BLUEBELL

 _A Novel_

 BY MRS. G. C. HUDDLESTON

 1875

[Transcriber's note: These images were taken from Early Canadian Onlineand there are several pages where the text is missing on the images. These have been marked "unreadable. "]

 Yet we shall one day gain, life part, Clear prospect o'er our being's whole, Shall see ourselves, and learn at last Our true affinities of soul. 

_Acknowledgment_

The Publishers have to acknowledge their great indebtedness to MR. DAVISON, President, and MR. DAVY, Secretary, of the Toronto Mechanics'Institute, who, on being applied to, kindly gave to them for publicationthe only copy of this Work, which, so far as they knew, was in Canada atthe time, and which the Directors of the Institute, with a commendablespirit of enterprise, had secured for their Library. 

CONTENTS. 

CHAP. 

 I. SWEET SEVENTEEN

 II. BERTIE

 III. GENTLE ANNIE

 IV. SATURDAY AT HOME

 V. A WOODLAND WALK

 VI. VISITORS

 VII. THE GARRISON SLEIGH CLUB

 VIII. FIXING UP A PRANCE

 IX. CROSS PURPOSES

 X. TOBOGGINING

 XI. EFFECTS OF TOBOGGINING

 XII. THE LAKE SHORE ROAD

 XIII. NORTHERN LIGHTS

 XIV. THE TRYST

 XV. AN ENIGMATICAL LETTER

 XVI. DETECTED

 XVII. DID YOU PROPOSE THEN?

 XVIII. LYNDON'S LANDING

 XIX. CALF LOVE

 XX. THE PRINCE PHILANDER

 XXI. A PERILOUS SAIL

 XXII. AT LAST

 XXIII. LOLA'S BIRTHDAY

 XXIV. LITTLE PITCHERS

 XXV. CHANGES

 XXVI. CROSSING THE HERRING POND

 XXVII. HARRY DUTTON

 XXVIII. ROUGH WEATHER

 XXIX. BLUEBELL'S DEBUT IN THE OLD COUNTRY

 XXX. NO CARDS

 XXXI. BROMLEY TOWERS

 XXXII. THE SPRING WOODS

 XXXIII. LORD BROMLEY INTERVIEWS DUTTON

 XXXIV. HARRY GOES TO THE BALTIC

 XXXV. A DISCOVERY

 XXXVI. IN DEATH THEY WERE NOT DIVIDED

 XXXVII. AN UNEXPECTED RENCONTRE

XXXVIII. OLD HEAD ON YOUNG SHOULDERS

 XXXIX. THE LOAN OF A LOVER

 XL. THE MINIATURE

 XLI. A LOCK OF HAIR

BLUEBELL

CHAPTER I. 

SWEET SEVENTEEN. 

 I see her now--the vision fair, Of candour, innocence, and truth, Stand tiptoe on the verge of air, 'Twixt childhood and unstable youth. 

It was the "fall" in Canada, and the leaves were dying royally in purple, crimson and gold. On the edge of a common, skirting a well-known city ofOntario, stood a small, rough-cast cottage, behind which the sun wassetting with a red promise of frost, his flaming tints repeated in thefervid hue of the Virginian creeper that clothed it. 

This modest tenement was the retreat of three unprotected females, two ofwhom were seated in silent occupation close to a black stove, whichimparted heat, but denied cheerfulness. The elder was grey and tintlessas her life, --harsh wisdom wrung from sad experience ever on lips thinand tight, as though from habitually repressing every desire. Theyounger, a widow, was scarcely passed middle age, small of stature, butwizened beyond her years by privation and sorrow. 

A smell of coal-oil, that most unbearable of odours, pervaded theinterior of the cottage, revealing that the general servant below inlighting the lamp had, as usual, upset some, and was retaining the aromaby smearing it off with her apron. 

Presently a quick, light step tripped over the wooden side-walk, a shadowdarkened the window, and a vision of youth and freshness burst into thedingy little parlour. 

A rather tall, full-formed young Hebe was Theodora Leigh, of that purepink and white complexion that goes farther to make a beauty than evenregularity of feature; her long, sleepy eyes were just the shade of thewild hyacinth; indeed, her English father always called her "Bluebell, "after a flower that does not grow on Transatlantic soil. 

But they were Irish-eyes, "put in with a dirty finger, " and varying withevery mood. Gooseberry eyes may disguise more soul, but they get nocredit for it. Humour seemed to dance in that soft, blue fire; poetrydreamed in their clear depths; love--but that we have not come to yet;they were more eloquent than her tongue, for she was neither witty norwise, only rich in the exuberant life of seventeen, and as expectant ofgood will and innocent of knowledge of the world as a retriever puppy. 

Apparently, Miss Bluebell was not in the suavest of humours, for sheflung her hat on to one crazy chair, and herself on another, with avehemence that caused a sensible concussion. 

"My dear, how brusque you are, " said Mrs. Leigh, plaintively. 

"So provoking, " muttered Bluebell. 

"What's gone wrong with the child now?" said Miss Opie, the elderproprietress of the domicile. 

"Why, " said Bluebell, "I met the Rollestons, and they asked: me to theirpicnic at the Humber on Friday; but how _can_ I go? Look here!" and shepointed to a pair of boots evidently requiring patching. "Oh, mother!could you manage another pair now? Miss Scrag has sent home my new'waist, ' and I can do up my hat, but these buckets are only fit for thedusthole. "

Mrs. Leigh sighed, --"A new pair, with side-springs, would cost threedollars. No, Bluebell, I can't indeed. "

"I might as well be a nun, then, at once, " said the girl, with tears inher voice; and a sympathetic dew rose in Mrs. Leigh's weary eyes at thedisappointment she could not avert from her spoiled darling. 

"Bluebell, " said Miss Opie, "if you read more and scampered about less, your mind would be better fortified to bear these little reverses. "

"Shut up!" muttered Bluebell, in the artless vernacular of a school-girl, half turning her shoulder with an impatient gesture. 

The entrance of the tea-things created a diversion, but the discontentedgirl sat apart, while the hideousness of her surroundings came upon heras a new revelation. Certainly, in Canada, in a poverty-stricken abode, taste seems more completely starved than in any other country. 

Bluebell, in her critical mood, noted the ugly delf tea-things, so badlyarranged; the black stove, four feet into the room, with its pipe runningthrough a hole in the wall; the ricketty horsehair chairs and wire blindfor the window, "gave" on the street, where gasping geese were diving inthe gutters for the nearest approach to water they could find. 

Scarcely less repugnant were the many-coloured crotchet-mats andanti-macassars with which Miss Opie loved to decorate the apartment; norwas a paper frill adorning a paltry green flower-vase wanting to completethe tasteless _tout ensemble_. 

The evening wore on; Mrs. Leigh proceeded with the turning of an oldmerino dress; Miss Opie adjusted her spectacles, and read _Good Words_. Bluebell sat down to the piano and executed a selection from Rossini's'Messe Solennelle' with force and fervour. 

"You play very well, child, " said Miss Opie. 

"That is fortunate, " said Bluebell, "for I mean to be a governess. "

"You mean you want a governess, " retorted the other. "Why, what in theworld do you know?"

"More than most children of ten years old. I might get a hundred dollarsa year. Mamma, I could buy myself new boots then. "

"You are nothing but a self-willed child yourself, unable to bear theslightest disappointment, " said Miss Opie. 

"Never mind, " said Mrs. Leigh, coaxingly; "I'll see if I cannot get youthe boots. They will give me credit at the store. "

"No, no; I know you can't afford it; they were new last April. Mamma isoil to your vinegar, Aunt Jane. "

"And you the green young mustard in the domestic salad--hot enough, and, like all ill weeds, growing apace. "

"Then it is field mustard, and not used for salad, " said Bluebell, anxious for the last word. And, escaping from the room, went to placesome bones in the shed, for a casual in the shape of a starving cur, whocalled occasionally for food and a night's lodging. 

About twenty years ago, when this melancholy Mrs. Leigh was a lovelyyoung Canadian of rather humble origin, Theodore Leigh, a gracelesssubaltern in the Artillery, had just returned from leave, and, going oneday to the Rink, was "regularly flumocksed, " as he expressed it, by thevision of Miss Lesbia Jones skimming over the ice like a swallow on thewing. And when she proceeded to cut a figure of 8 backwards, and executeanother intricate movement called "the rose, " his admiration becamevehement, and, seizing on a brother-officer he had observed speaking toher, demanded an introduction. 

"To the 'Tee-to-tum'? Oh, certainly. "

Miss Lesbia was very small, and wore the shortest of petticoats, whichprobably suggested the appellation. 

Fatigued with her evolutions, she had sunk with a pretty little air of_abandon_ on the platform, and her destiny, in a beaver coat and cap, waspresented by Mr. Wingfield. 

After this, a common object at the Rink was a tall young man, in all theagonies of a _début_ on skates, and a bewitching little attendant spriteshooting before and around him, occasionally righting him with a fairytouch when he evinced too wild a desire to dash his brains against thewall. 

At all the sleighing parties, also, Miss Lesbia's form was invariablyobserved in Mr. Leigh's cutter, with a violet and white "cloud" matchingthe robe borders and ribbons on the bells; and he and the "Tee-to-tum"spun round together in half the valses of every ball during the winter. 

Perhaps, after all, the attachment might have lived and died withoutexceeding the "muffin" phase, had not the "beauty, " Captain of thebattery cut in, and made rather strong running, too, partly because heconsidered her "fetching, " and partly, he said, "from regard to Leigh, who was making an ass of himself. "

Jealousy turned philandering into earnest. Theodore went straight to themaiden aunt, with whom Miss Jones resided, and, after most vehementbadgering, got her consent to a private marriage within three days. Thepoor spinster, though much flustered, knowing his attentions to Lesbiahad been a good deal talked about, felt almost relieved to have itsettled respectably, though so abruptly. 

On the appointed day, having obtained a week's leave, Theodore, with hisbest man, the last joined subaltern, dashed up to the church-door in acutter, just in time to receive Lesbia and her bewildered chaperone. 

After the ceremony, they started off for their week's honeymoon to theFalls; and the best man, absolved from secrecy, spread the news throughthe regiment. 

Theodore had scribbled off the intelligence in reckless desperation tohis father, of whom he was the only child, and Sir Timothy Leigh, a proudand ambitious man, never forgave the irrevocable piece of folly socavalierly announced to him. 

Theodore received a letter from the family lawyer, couched in the termsof sorrowful reprehension such functionaries usually assume on similaroccasions. 

"It was Mr. Vellum's painful duty to inform him that Sir Timothy woulddecline to receive him on his return to England; that two hundred a yearwould be placed annually to his credit at Cox's; but the estates notbeing entailed, that was the utmost farthing he need ever expect fromhim. "

Such was the gist of the communication, and Theodore, hardened by hisfather's severity, and unable to bear the privations of a narrow income, absented himself more and more from their wretched lodgings, and tried todrown his cares by drinking himself into a state of semi-idiocy. 

There is little more to relate of this ill-starred marriage, of whichBluebell was the fruit; for soon after her birth young Leigh was killedby being upset out of a dog-cart. 

Driving home with unsteady hands from mess one night, he collided witha street car, which inevitably turned over the two-wheeled vehicle. Theodore was pitched out, his head striking on the iron rails, and neverbreathed again. 

Whatever grief Sir Timothy may have felt at his son being snatched fromhim, unreconciled and unforgiven, did not show itself in mercy to thewidow. 

Mr. Vellum was again in requisition, and proposed, on behalf of SirTimothy, to make Mrs. Leigh a suitable allowance on condition that sheremained in Canada, and delivered over the child to her grandfather, tobe brought up and educated as his heiress. In case these terms wererefused, she would continue to receive annually two hundred a-year; butno farther assistance would be granted. 

Lesbia, in her loneliness and bereavement, was heart-broken at thisunfeeling proposition, and Bluebell being too young for a choice, sheconsulted the voice of Nature alone, and refused to part with her child. 

The maiden aunt, Miss Opie, willingly received them. She had a merepittance, and lived in a boarding house; but, by joining their slenderpurses, they took the cottage in which we find them. 

Thus in extreme poverty was Bluebell reared until her seventeenth year, though by personal privation Mrs. Leigh sent her to _the_ school _parexcellence_; attended by most of the girls in the city, whether theirparents were "in" or "out" of society. Bluebell having the _prestige_ ofan English father, own son of a baronet, and military into the bargain, was considered in the former class, and included at an early age in thegaieties of the winter. 

A new friend, who had been particularly kind to her, was Mrs. Rolleston, wife of the Colonel of a regiment quartered there, and to her Bluebellrepaired to make sorrowful excuses for the projected picnic, and also toconfide the scheme that possessed her mind of earning money as a musicalteacher or nursery governess. 

Mrs. Rolleston felt half inclined to laugh at the unformed impulsivechild, who was such a pet in their household, but seemed far too babyishand unmethodical to be recommended for any situation; yet remembering hermother's straitened circumstances, and that the girl probably wanted somepocket-money, she listened sympathetically, and promised to turn it overin her mind. 

Music she knew Bluebell thoroughly understood and excelled in. She hadfor years received instruction gratis from the organist at the Cathedral, who, originally attracted by her lovely voice singing in the choir, tookher up with enthusiasm, and taught her harmony and thorough bass. Thus, instead of only practising a desultory accomplishment, she was able tocompose and arrange her tuneful ideas correctly. 

A dark striking-looking girl interrupted them. This was Cecil Rolleston, the eldest daughter of the house, or rather she stood in that relation tothe Colonel, being the offspring of his first wife. 

"Come out and play croquet, Bluebell, " said she; "the children are havinga game; they only let me go on condition of bringing you, "--and she ledthe way through the window into a charming garden, with large shadymaple-trees just beginning to drop their deep-dyed, variegated leaves onthe turf; the bluebirds were already gone, but the red and ashen-huedrobin, nearly the size of a jay, still rustled through the boughs. 

A little white dog, with a ribbon on, was holding a ball within itsfeathery toes, and playing with it as a cat does a mouse; a gardener wasrefreshing the thirsty flowers, which had outgrown their strength; andFleda, Estelle, and Lola, twelve, eleven, and nine, were playing croquetwith the zest of recent emancipation from lessons. 

The governess, a dark, sallow expositor of the arts and sciences, alsowielded a mallet, and Cecil and Bluebell completed the six. 

The sides were pretty equally cast, and the combatants were in a mostinteresting crisis of the game, when Colonel Rolleston entered thegarden. 

He was a very handsome man, and as is often the case with the only malein a family of women, so studied and given in to by all his female_entourage_, that he would not have been pleased, whatever theiroccupations, if he were not immediately rallied round by a little courtof flatterers. 

"Estelle, " said the governess, "offer your papa your mallet, and ask himto be so kind as to play with us. " The child's face lengthened; she hadnot much hope of his refusing it, but advanced with her request. 

"Must I?" said the Colonel. 

"Oh, yes!" said the chorus of voices; "be my partner--be mine. "

"Don't tear me to pieces among you, " said he, with a deprecating gesture. 

"Take Bluebell on your side, papa, " cried Cecil; "she is very good, andwe'll keep Miss Prosody, who is equally so. "

And thus they proceeded, the Colonel radiant with every successfulstroke, and blaming mallet, ball, and ground when otherwise, reiterating, "I can't make a stroke to-day. "

Bluebell was very fond of the Colonel, who liked pretty faces about him, and had been kind to her; but she could not resist a slight feeling ofrepulsion at what she considered an abject maneuver of Miss Prosody's. His ball, by an unskilful miss, was left in her power; her duty to herside required her to crack it to the other end of the ground, but aglance at the irritable gloom of his countenance induced her to discoverit to be more to her advantage to attack one rather beyond, and, judiciously missing it left her own blue one an easy stroke for him. 

The shadows dispersed, and, all playfulness, the Colonel apostrophizedhis prize, which he succeeded in hitting. "Here is my little friend inblue; shall I hurt it? no, I will not harm it. " By-play of relief andgratitude on the governess's part, as he requited her amiability bymerely taking two off, leaving his interesting friend in blue unmoved. 

This naturally did not enhance the interest of the children who felt itwas not the game of croquet that was being played. Cecil, replying with alaughing glance to the indignant eye-telegraphy of Fleda, began to playat random; and Bluebell and Lola, not finding much antagonism from theother side, soon pulled the Colonel through his hoops and won the game. After which, Bluebell retraced her steps across the common, accompaniedpart of the way by Miss Rolleston, to whom she also confided hergoverness's projects. 

Cecil was very fond of her; she had few companions, and her sisters weremere children. All the time the younger girl was talking, she wassilently revolving a plan. It so happened this Cecil was in ratherindependent circumstances for a young lady, maternal relative having lefther a legacy at twelve years old which, by the time she was twenty-one, would bring in a thousand a year. 

In the mean time, she drew half that sum annually, and, of course, contributed to the domestic expenses. How much pleasanter it would be forBluebell to live with them than with strangers. She might be _her_musical teacher; singing duets even brought out her own voicesurprisingly; it would be delightful to practise together; the childrenhad no taste for music, neither did Mrs. Rolleston care for it. Besides, she felt a generous pleasure in the prospect of assisting her friend, poor Bluebell, who often had to deny herself a mere bit of ribbon fromwant of a shilling to pay for it. It might require a little management athome, so she would not hint at it yet, and, with a warm caress and a gayfarewell nod, they separated. 

Next morning, Mrs. Leigh, still engaged in the resuscitation of themerino dress, was surprised by a visit from Mrs. Rolleston. That lady, for a wonder, considering her errand, had come alone, for it was seldomthat any little domestic arrangement was entered on without the personalsupervision of the Colonel. 

However, there was a counter-attraction at barracks this morning, andhaving, so to speak, held a board on Cecil's proposition, and opposed, argued, and thoroughly talked it over, Mrs. Rolleston was empowered tosuggest to Mrs. Leigh a plan for taking Bluebell into their family asmusical companion to Cecil and nursery governess to Freddy, the heirapparent, aetat. Four. The poor little lady did not seem much elated atthe proposal. "I know my child will wish it, " she said. "I can give herno variety, no indulgences, and she is of an age when occupation andsociety are a necessity to her. I sometimes feel, " she murmured, witha sigh, "that I have stood in her light by not agreeing to hergrandfather's conditions. "

A look of curiosity from Mrs. Rolleston elicited an explanation, and sheheard for the first time the whole history of Bluebell's antecedents. 

"Why, " cried she, much excited, "I remember that Sir Timothy before Imarried; there are so many Leighs, it never struck me he might be yourfather-in-law. I recollect hearing he had disinherited his son, but hehas adopted a grandnephew, which, I am afraid, looks bad for Bluebell. "And she listened with renewed interest to Mrs. Leigh's diffusereminiscences, while her _protégé_ appeared to her in a new and romanticlight, and she pictured half-a-dozen possibilities for her future. 

From a miniature of the graceless Theodore which Mrs. Leigh produced, there could be no doubt of the resemblance to his daughter in air andfeature; the long sleepy eyes were identical, though the slightlyinsolent expression of Theodore's was, happily, wanting. 

"He was the best of husbands, " whimpered the widow, on whose placidmind the shortcomings of the dissipated youth seemed to have left noimpression; "but he was hardly treated in this world, and so he was takento a better. "

Before Mrs. Rolleston left, it was arranged that Bluebell was to make herfirst essay in governessing on Freddy Rolleston, her Sundays to be spentas often as possible with her mother; and ere another week had passed, she and her effects were transferred to the Maples. 

A bed was made up for her in a little room of Cecil's and the tuition ofFreddy carried on in the nursery; for Mrs. Rolleston having some doubtsas how the amateur and professional governess might amalgamate, avoidedletting her entrench on Miss Prosody's premises. 

That lady, indeed, was disposed to look upon her with suspicionand incipient dislike. She had always been treated with greatconsideration--quite one of the family, and cared not for "a rival nearher throne. " Who was Bluebell that she should be made so much of?--alittle nursery governess with no attainments, and yet Cecil's inseparablecompanion! She was a prime favourite with the Colonel, whose "ways" shehad made a judicious study of, and treated with considerable tact. Healways mentioned her as "that dear invaluable creature, Miss Prosody. "She could occasionally put an idea into his mind which he mistook for hisown, as, for instance, when he observed to his wife, --"What a pity thatgirl has such a preposterous name, and that you all have the habit ofcalling her by it. The other evening that idiot, young Halkett must needssay, 'What a lovely pet name!' I can tell you I took him up pretty short. You really must not have her down so much, if these boys think they maytalk nonsense to her. "

Mrs. Rolleston was rather surprised at the irritation with which this wassaid; to be sure she had heard Miss Prosody, previous to young Halkett'sfoolish remark, lamenting that Bluebell "did not show more reserve withgentlemen guests, and that she put herself so much on an equality withCecil. " The Colonel was a domestic man, and liked cheerfulness at hisfireside, of which he himself was to be the centre and inspiration;anything approaching bad spirits, silence, or headaches he alwaysresented. 

Bluebell was well enough as contributing to the liveliness of the littlesociety--a pretty smiling young girl is seldom _de trop_; but then shemust be satisfied without lovers, whose presence the Colonel consideredsubversive of all rational comfort. 

Good-natured Mrs. Rolleston pursued the even tenor of her way, theColonel's fidgets had a soporific effect on her nerves and createdno corresponding alarms; her idol, Freddy, was satisfied with the newadministration, and ceased to wage internecine warfare with his nurse;and certainly the unwonted tranquillity consequent was a decided boon tothe rest of the household. 

CHAPTER II. 

BERTIE. 

 In the greenest growth of the Maytime We rode where the roads were wet; Between the dawn and the daytime The spring was glad that we met. --Swinburne. 

Two or three months passed, the bluebirds and robins had alldisappeared, and the snow-birds, hardy scions of the feathered tribecapable of withstanding the rigours of a Canadian winter, were alone tobe seen. The Rinks had been flooded, and skating was going on withvigour; the snow was not quite in a satisfactory state as yet; but a fewsleighs jingled merrily about with their bright bits of colour, theedging of fur robes and ribbon on the sleigh bells. A general impulse ofjoyful anticipation ran through all the young people as winter unlockedher stores of amusement, and the keen sabre-like air, so bracing andexhilarating, stirred the life in young veins, and set their spiritsdancing with exuberant vitality. 

The Rollestons, who had only come out in the spring, were attracted witheverything. Not a sleigh passed but there was a rush from the children tothe window, and Colonel Rolleston, who was building one, received freshsuggestions about it most days from his excited family. 

Every morning Cecil, under Bluebell's tuition, practised skating at theRink, and had devised an original and becoming costume to be assumed assoon as she had attained sufficient command of her limbs not to object toa share of public attention. In the afternoon the Rink was generallycrowded, and many of the Colonel's regiment evinced an eagerness to helpCecil along, and pretend to receive instruction from the skilful andblooming Bluebell; so poor Mrs. Rolleston was then invariably detailed bythe Colonel for chaperone duty, and sat shivering on the platform whileCecil was being initiated in the mysteries of "Dutch rolls" and "outsideedge. " On one of these occasions she was roused by a well-known voicecalling her by name, and turned round in joyful surprise to greet a youngman just come in. 

"My dear Bertie, were have you sprung from? Have you been to our house?"

"Just left it and my traps. Lascelles suddenly gave up his leave, whichI applied for, and have got a week certain, and most likely all of it, for there are plenty of Captains down there; so I thought I would lookyou up to begin with. "

"To begin with! You must stay here all the time--make it head quarters, at any rate. You have been travelling all the summer, and there's nothingto do now. "

"Moose, " murmured Bertie. "Ah! there's Cecil. "

Cecil, skating hand-in-hand to the tune of "Paddle your own canoe, "was not sufficiently disengaged to remark her mother's companion. Hiseyes followed her with a keen, comprehensive glance, which Mrs. Rollestonobserved complacently. 

"Don't you think her much improved?--much prettier?" asked she. 

"Skating always suits a well-made girl. That black and scarlet get-up, too, is very becoming, but pretty--hardly. "

"She is, however, very much admired, " said Mrs. Rolleston, warmly, for astep-mother. 

"Ah!" cried Bertie, with a slight accent of bitterness, "reasons enoughfor that. How well some of these girls skate! Who is that shooting-star?"

The planet in question gyrated towards them, dropped on one knee on theplatform for the relief of strained ankles, and, as she addressed Mrs. Rolleston, caught a look of decided admiration on Bertie's face. 

A Canadian girl is nothing if not self-possessed; she sustained the gazewith the most perfect calmness. 

"Bluebell, this is my brother, Captain Du Meresq. Cecil ought to rest;will you go and tell her to come here?"

"Who is that young beauty whom you addressed in the language of flowers?"asked he. 

"Nonsense, Bertie! she is Freddy's governess. You must not begin to talkabsurdity to her; you will annoy Edward. "

"He don't object to fair faces on his own account. "

"Well, this particular one is more bother than pleasure to him. Youknow his horror of 'danglers'; he is afraid of aimless flirtationswith Bluebell, who, being also Cecil's companion, is constantly in thedrawing-room. "

"Ah, my beloved niece, " said Captain Du Meresq, as he gave Cecilconsiderable support from the ice to the platform. 

"What has given us this unexpected treat?" said she, with a warmer huethan usual in her clear, pale cheek. 

"My anxiety to see your new companion. "

"Whose existence, I suppose, you have just heard of. "

"It has been my loss, " retorted he. "Fascinating young creature! The nameBluebell just describes those wild hyacinth eyes. "

"Oh! Bertie, " said his sister and Cecil together, "how absurd you areabout girls. "

"And then, " persisted he, "that charming tawny hair and milk white skin. "

"One might think you were describing an Alderney cow. It's a pity she isnot called 'Daisy' or 'Cowslip. '"

"Girls are all alike, " said Captain Du Meresq, sententiously. "Even you, my beloved Cecil, who are a woman of mind, can't stand my wild admirationof--Cowslip. "

Cecil raised her eyebrows, and a scornful beam shot from the dark eyesthat were her chief attraction. 

"Nor could the 'dairy flower' herself, I should think. It's no userhapsodizing before me, Bertie; _I_ shall not tell her in anyconfidential communication, whatever you may think. "

"Ah, well, " said Captain Du Meresq, with a sigh, "let us hope theingenious child may understand the universal language of the eyes, forI hear papa would not approve of my speaking to her. "

Mrs. Rolleston was becoming fidgetty. To some women, as they advancein years, an inability of separating chaff from earnest becomes morepronounced, and the uppermost wish of her mind at present was to see areal attachment between Bertie and Cecil. Albert Du Meresq was only herhalf-brother; but he had become her charge in infancy under terriblecircumstances, which we will briefly relate. 

When Mr. Du Meresq married his mother, a wilful Irish beauty, Mrs. Rolleston was a shy, reserved girl of thirteen, and became very jealousof her father's exclusive devotion to his bride and neglect of herself. 

Lady Inez looked upon her as rather a nuisance, and was coldly criticalupon her appearance and manner. She was an unsparing mimic, andfrequently exercised the faculty on her step-daughter, whose nervousnessbecame awkwardness in the constant expectation of being turned intoridicule. Consequently, she cordially disliked not only Lady Inez, butthe little step-brother, who was made of so much importance, till oneghastly day changed the aspect of events. 

Like a fearful dream it had seemed--a strange carriage rolling to thedoor, from which emerged her father and another gentleman carrying aterrible burden, looking supernaturally long in a riding-habit. Whitescared faces flitted about; but life was extinct, and there was nofrantic riding for doctors. 

There had been a hunt-breakfast that morning, and she well remembered theenvy she had felt at seeing Lady Inez ride gaily forth with the rest on afavourite horse. 

"She has everything, " thought Bella, "'Reindeer' was promised to me whenhe was a foal, and I have never been on his back. "

But Lady Inez was lying there, with the mark of "Reindeer's" iron hoof onher temple. They had come down together at a blind fence; the horse, entangled in her habit, struck out _once_, as thorough-breds will, but itwas a death-blow. 

The voice of the child, crying alone and neglected in the nursery, aroused Bella from a horror stricken stupor. Her father's despair madehim unapproachable, but she might comfort Bertie, forgotten by hisattendants. 

From this time she became almost a mother to him, for Mr. Du Meresq wentabroad, and they were left alone in the deserted house for some years. 

Bertie had left Eton, and just obtained a commission in the ---- Hussars, when his father died, leaving him a moderate fortune, which steadilydecreased as years went by. It had approached attenuation by this time, and Mrs. Rolleston felt as distracted and perplexed as a duckling's henfoster-mother, at the vagaries of the happy-go-lucky, reckless Irishblood in Bertie, which did not flow in her own veins. 

She looked forward to marrying him to Cecil, as the best chance ofrelieving his pecuniary difficulties and reforming his unsteadiness. 

Captain Du Meresq had stayed with them for six weeks some time ago, when he and Cecil became inseparable companions, and it was then thatthe idea had dawned upon her. She would not openly discuss it with herbrother--that would have too much the appearance of a plot: but herlively satisfaction at the prospect was apparent enough, and Bertie knewher co-operation would not be wanting. 

He had thought of it more than once. What chance had he not calculatedto get him through his sea of difficulties; but a thousand a year aloneseemed scarcely sufficient temptation to matrimony, to which he did notseriously incline. Indeed, his warm impressionable nature was not thetemperament of a fortune-hunter. 

He was attracted with Cecil, and got rather fond of her in the six weekshe had been trying to make her in love with him, not with any mercenaryview, but because such was his usual custom with girls. 

But he was afflicted with a keen eye for beauty, and Cecil was plain tomost eyes, and too colourless for his taste, though she possessed alovely figure, thorough-bred little head, and a pale, intelligent, expressive face. 

Bluebell's lilies and roses and Hebe-like contour caught his eye in amoment, of which Cecil felt an instinctive conviction; but though, with awoman's keenness, underrating no point of attraction in her friend, sheconsidered her wanting in style, which deficiency she dwelt on now withsecret satisfaction. For though not in the least anxious to monopolizegeneral admiration, that of Bertie Du Meresq was unfortunately asensitive point with Cecil, for that six weeks had been the intensestperiod of her life--the dawning of "love's young dream. "

She had never met him since childhood till then, when they were throwntogether with the intimacy of near connexions. There was not, of course, the slightest real relationship, but Bertie jestingly called her hisniece, perhaps, to establish a right of chaperonage. 

He used to make her come down to breakfast _en Amazone_, and took her themost enchanting rides in that Seductive April weather. Her equestrianexperience previously had been limited to steady macadamizing on theroads. Bertie took her as the crow flies, never pulled a fence, butmerely gave her a lead, and Cecil, who had plenty of nerve, exulted inthe new excitement. The farmers might not have thought it a very orthodoxmonth for this amusement; but hunting was scarcely over, though thecopses were filled with primroses, and violets scented the hedgerows; thebirds sang as they only do when the great business of their year iscommencing. And then she had such a mount, a perfect hunter of her_quasi_-uncle's. It never refused, and took its fences with such ease achild might have sat it. 

Or they would ride dreamily on in woody glades, both alike susceptibleto the shafts of sunlight, quivering on the leaves, the sudden gushof fragrance after a shower, and all the myriad appeals of spring tothose who have that touch of poetry in their clay which is the key offairy-land, their horses meantime snatching at the young green boughs asthey sauntered lazily on; and Du Meresq, who had travelled in all sortsof strange out-of-the way places, described weirder scenes in otherlands, and pictured a fuller, more vivid life than she in her routineexistence had dreamed of. 

Bertie was always all in all to the woman he was with, provided no otherwas present; and Cecil, young, and full of sympathy and intelligence, wasa delightful companion. His appreciation, felt and expressed, of herquickness of comprehension was most agreeable flattery; the more so as heconfided in her so fully, even consulting her about his own privateaffairs, for he was very hard pressed at this time, and she, who hadnever known the want of money, took the deepest interest in it all. 

He seemed never able to bear her out of his sight. If she played, hewas hanging over the piano; if he had letters to write, Cecil must doit from his dictation; and yet he would avow sometimes before her suchextravagant adoration for some pretty girl, that Cecil, chilled andsurprised, would feel more than ever doubtful of her own influence;and the honeyed words she had treasured up, faded away as void ofsignificance. And then one day, --suddenly, --on her return from acroquet-party, she heard he had received a telegram, and gone, leavinga careless message of adieu. 

Poor Cecil! with the instinct of the wounded animal to its lair, sherushed to her own room, locked the door, and walked about in a tearlessabandonment of grief, disappointment, and surprise. How could he leaveher without one word? She felt half stunned, and her brain seemed capableof only the dull reiteration that "Bertie was gone. " Tears welled up toher eyes then, when the sound of the first dinner-bell drove them back. She felt she must battle alone with this strange affliction; and tryingto efface from her features all evidence of the shock she had sustained, descended to dinner, looking rather more stately than usual. 

It annoyed her to observe that her step-mother glanced deprecatingly ather, and was inclined to be extra affectionate. This would never do. Likemost young girls, she was generally rather silent when not interested inthe discussions of her elders. But now she never let conversation drop. The incidents of the croquet-party furnished a safe topic. ColonelRolleston thought the gentle dissipation had made his daughter quitelively. Afterwards she took refuge at the piano, which was imprudent, formusic only too surely touches the chord of feeling, and every piece wasassociated with Bertie. Cecil shut the instrument, and effected astrategical retreat to her bed-room, where, in the luxury of solitude, she might worry and torment herself to her heart's content. His absencewas trial enough, but the sting lay in the way it was done, which wassuch a proof of indifference, that shame urged her to crush out allthoughts of him, and suffer anything rather than let him see theimpression his careless affection had made on her. 

And so Cecil passed through her first "baptism of fire" alone andunsuspected; but time had softened much of her resentment ere they metagain. 

CHAPTER III. 

GENTLE ANNIE. 

 The time I've lost in wooing, In watching and pursuing The light that lies In woman's eyes, Has been my heart's undoing. --Moore. 

"Bluebell, " said little Lola, bursting into the nursery, where Freddy, rather a tyrant in his affections, had insisted on her singing him tosleep, "Ma says you have got to dine down to-night, and Miss Prosody, too. Won't she be in a way, for her white muslin never came home from thewash, and she had begun altering the _barège_; so I asked Felda to tellher, " said Lola, diplomatically. "Do you know Bertie has come?" (Hisnieces never prefaced his name with the formality of uncle. ) "Oh ofcourse, you must have seen him at the Rink. Do you like him? He is sureto like you, at first, at any rate, " said Lola, who apparently, likeother lookers-on saw most of the game. "And don't tell, but I believe hehates Miss Prosody. "

"Why?" asked Bluebell, absently. 

"Well, one day he was whispering to Cecil, with their heads very neartogether. Miss Prosody was looking for a book in a recess behind thedoor, close to them; but they never saw her till she moved away, and Iheard Bertie mutter something about an 'inquisitive old devil. ' But don'ttell, mind. There's the bell; I must go to tea, " _Exit_ Lola, andBluebell flew off with some alacrity to her bed-room to prepare. 

"Bluebell, " cried Cecil, opening the intervening door, "can I lend youanything?" It pleased her to supply her friend's deficiencies of toiletwhen a sudden summons to a domestic field-day had been issued. 

"Is it a party?" said the other. "I have only my eternal black-netdress. "

"Just Mr. Vavasour and Captain Deveril, " both in her father's regiment;they never either of them alluded to Bertie. "Here are some fixings forit, " returning with a lapful of silver acorns and oak leaves, "unless youwould prefer butter-cups. What a thing it is to have a complexion likeyours, that everything goes with, "--and Cecil looked with half envy atthe girl, whose blue eyes were bluer, and hair and cheeks brighter, thanusual, as she chattered away with a vivacity, of which, perhaps, thenattering glances of Captain Du Meresq may have been the secret spring. 

Bluebell hadn't the slightest idea of assuming the demure demeanour ofa governess in society; the Rollestons had been her great friends before, and did not treat her as if she was in any altered position; not so, however, Miss Prosody, who would have reduced her to the _status_ of anursery-maid had it been in her power. 

That austere virgin was talking, or rather listening, in a sympatheticmanner to Colonel Rolleston as the girls entered the room; but her eyehad taken in every detail of Miss Leigh's costume, and disapprovinglyremarked the silver oak leaves that festooned the black-net dress, andMaltese cross and bracelets that accompanied it, all of which she wellknew belonged to Cecil. 

The three young men were talking together. 

"Du Meresq, " said Captain Deveril, "you get more leave than any otherfellow. You were in the Prairies in July, England in the spring, and nowhere you are at large again in January. "

"You must have a rattling good chief, " said Mr. Vavasour, "I don't think, Mrs. Rolleston, the Colonel is ever able to spare us quite so often. "

"You see, " said Bertie, "there's no demand for leave among our fellowsjust now; they are all in love at Montreal, and there's so much going onthere. Lascelles most imprudently gave up his to drive Miss Ellery abouta little longer. "

"Oh, ah, I know her, " said young Vavasour; "girl with grey eyes, and headalways on one side when she's valsing; looks as if she was kissing herown shoulder. "

"Will she land him, do you think?" said Deveril. 

"Not she, " said Bertie. "I have known him in as bad a scrape before;he'll get away to England soon; he always bolts when the family becomesaffectionate. "

A discordant gong resounding through the house was followed by theannouncement of dinner. 

"Come, my dear Miss Prosody, " said the Colonel, complacently, leading herforth; he hadn't near done his recital of the morning's field-day, whichrequired that delicate tact and judicious prompting to extort from himthat, though not really Brigadier on the occasion, his opinion andauthority had actually directed the proceedings. 

Generally any amount of this affectionate incense was forthcoming fromhis wife and daughter; but to-night they both seemed a little _distrait_and occupied with Bertie, which, however, was a loss little felt withMiss Prosody present, whose motto seemed that of the volunteers, "Alwaysready, " and her "soothing treatment" was certainly equal to that ofeither of the others. 

"It's you and I, Miss Bluebell, " said young Vavasour, hastily offeringhis arm, while Bertie who had hesitated an instant, gave his to Cecil. The momentary reluctance was not lost upon her, she become rather silent, ditto Captain Du Meresq; but their opposite neighbours were in a fullflow of chatter. 

"I saw you on the Rink, Miss Leigh, I wish I could skate like you. Whatis that thing you do with a broom??"

"The rose. "

"Take a good deal of cultivating to produce. I should think? Are yougoing to the M'Nab's ball?"

"No; I am not asked. The others are. "

"But you do go to balls sometimes?"

"Oh, yes; Mrs. Rolleston promised I should; but I can't go without aninvitation, and I very seldom get one. "

"I daresay not, " said Jack hotly; "they don't want their daughters cutout. "

"Stuff, " cried Bluebell, with a sudden blush, which was not occasioned bythe remark, but by the expression of Bertie Du Meresq's eyes that she hadcaught for about the third time since dinner began. It was veryprovoking; they had a sort of magnetic power, that forced her to lookthat way, and she fancied she detected a half-pleased smile inrecognition of the involuntary suffusion. 

"We are going; to 'fix up a prance' after the garrison sleigh drive onthe 10th, " continued young Vavasour; "will you come my sleigh, MissLeigh?"

Bluebell's face brightened with anticipation; then she looked down, anddemurred, --"I don't know that I shall be able to go. "

"That's only a put off, I am sure; you came out last garrisonsleigh-drive. "

"Yes, because Colonel Rolleston took me in his, but I mustn't expectto go every time; and you see there's Freddy; but I _should_ like itawfully, Mr. Vavasour. "

"Well, I know they will make you come, " said he confidently. "Promise meyou won't drive with any other fellow. "

"No fear of that; I don't suppose any one else will ask me. "

"Wouldn't they, " thought Vavasour. "I know two or three of our fellowsare death on driving her. "

"Cecil, " said Bertie, suddenly, "I think you have grown much quieter. "

"I am sure I might make the same remark, and for the purposes ofconversation it requires two to talk. "

"You are so stiff, or something, " murmured he; "not like the jolly littlegirl who used to ride with me in the Farwoods. Those were pleasant days, Cecil--at least, I thought so. "

"You got very suddenly tired of them, however. "

"That I didn't, " exclaimed he. "I was obliged to go. "

"It was a yachting excursion, wasn't it?" carelessly. 

"Yes, ostensibly; I had business too. Do you know Cecil very nearly wroteto you. But then, I thought you wouldn't care to hear from me, and mightthink it a bore answering. "

Cecil was silent. "Did you miss me, my child?"

She forgot her resolves, and met his eyes with a dark, soft look. 

Bertie pressed her hand under the table, and for a moment they wereoblivious of anything passing around. 

"Sweet or dry, sir?" said the deep voice of the liveried [unreadable], for the second time of asking. 

Du Meresq darted a searching glance at the man, who looked as stolid asthe Serjeant in 'Our's. ' No one could have guessed he was thinking whata _piquante_ anecdote it would be to relate to his inamorata, the cook, over their supper-beer. Bertie gave a laughing but relieved glance athis neighbour, whose eyes were fixed on her plate. They both begansimultaneously talking louder, with an exaggerated openness, on generaltopics. Mrs. Rolleston joined in. 

"You must stay over the sleighing-party, Bertie. "

"I hate driving a hired sleigh, " said he. "I wish I could get mine up;but the Grand Trunk would be sure to deliver it the day after the fair. "

"But you have your musk-ox robes here; they would dress up the shabbiestsleigh. I only saw one set like them on New Year's Day, when we had atleast sixty sleighs up here. "

"How did you enjoy that celebration?"

"I think, " said Cecil, "it is rather tiresome for ladies to have to stayin all day and receive, while the gentlemen go out calling. We had aspread, of course--luncheon, tea, coffee, everything. One man, who had alarge acquaintance, came before breakfast, and they were rushing in allday. It would have been well enough if they were not in such a hurry; butthey just swallowed a glass of wine, and the burden of all their remarkswas, 'I have been to a dozen places already, and have about thirty orforty more to do. '"

"Could not you two young ladies make them linger over smiles and wine?"laughed Bertie. "We are not such duffers at Montreal. "

"No, indeed. I saw Bluebell give a man a scalding cup of coffee, with themost engaging smile. There was a nervous glance at the clock. 'Oh, thankyou, Miss Leigh, how hot it is! I shall never have time to drink it, 'just as if he had a train to catch. "

"They have an arrear of balls and dinners to call for; that is the onlyday in the year a good many ever can pay visits--the civilians, I mean. "

The Colonel, who had now exhausted conversation with Miss Prosody, hadleisure to observe the determined flirtation of young Vavasour withBluebell. That unformidable young person being only seventeen, of courselooked upon him as a mere boy, and her chaffing manner was not at all tothe Colonel's taste, whose attention was drawn to it by an expressiveglance from Miss Prosody; so he telegraphed to his wife, who soonsignalled her female following from the room. 

Bertie got to the door, and as Bluebell passed through last of theladies, she again met that look of interest and admiration Du Meresq hadpractised so often. 

Shyness hitherto had been no infirmity of this young Canadian; but Bertiesomehow had mesmerized her into a state of consciousness--it was acobwebby kind of fetter, but the first she had worn. 

"Come and talk to me Bluebell, " said Mrs. Rolleston, "as Cecil is sostudious. "

The former glanced at her friend, and involuntarily whispered--"_How_well she looks to-night!"

Cecil was sitting apart, utterly absent as it seemed, but her eyes wereshining, and there was a soft brightness about her as she turned over thepages of a book. It was "The Wanderer, "--one that Bertie had brought withhim. 

Mrs. Rolleston agreed and interpreted it her own way. Bluebell drew along rocking-chair by her side, and they fell into a pleasant littletalk. Mrs. Rolleston always made a pet of this child; she was the best ofstep-mothers, but stood a little in awe of Cecil. 

Du Meresq came in shortly before the rest; the elder girl did not evenlook up, but her face again lit. He stood _à l'Anglais_, with his back tothe fire, talking to his sister, and occasionally, though without anyparticular _empressement_, addressing Bluebell, who thought his voicesweeter than any man's she had ever heard. It made her unconsciouslymodulate her own, which as yet had the untuned accents of early girlhood;but the spell was on her, and she felt, for the first time, at a loss forwords. Yet when Mrs. Rolleston shortly after sent her to the piano, itwas more of disappointment than a relief. Some one was following to turnthe leaves--only Mr. Vavasour--odious, officious boy! Who wanted him?

"Pray, don't, " cried she, pettishly. "You are sure to do it all wrong. "

"Let me try, " pleaded Jack. "If you just look at me I shall know when toturn. "

"Well, see if you can bring that book" (indicating a very heavy one atthe bottom of a pile) "without spilling the rest, or dropping it on yourtoes. Thank you. Now you had better go away; this is not at all the sortof music you would understand. "

"Classical, I suppose. I am afraid my taste is too uncultivated. "

"Come, Miss Leigh, " said the Colonel, half-impatiently, "we are allexpectation. "

Bertie had approached Cecil, and taken up the book she was reading. Itwas open at "Aux Italiens, " and he murmured low some of the verses:--

 "I thought of the dress she wore last time, When we stood 'neath the cypress trees together, In that lost land, in that soft clime, In the crimson evening weather. Of her muslin dress, for the eve was hot, And her warm white neck in its golden chain. And her full soft hair, just tied in a knot, And falling loose again. "

Mrs. Rolleston thought they looked very like lovers bending over the samebook, and their eyes speaking to each other, and in harmony with it wentrippling on one of the wildest and most plaintive of the Lieders underBluebell's sympathetic and brilliant fingers. 

"What a magnificent touch that child has!" said Du Meresq, pausing tolisten. 

"She has quite a genius for music;" and, mentally, she commented, "Inever heard her play better. "

"She plays, " said Bertie, "as if she were desperately in love. "

"With Mr. Vavasour?" laughed Cecil. 

"With no one, I dare say. It indicates, however, a _besoin d'aimer_. "

Cecil took up "The Wanderer" again, but she soon found they were not _enrapport_. The captain's temperament was now, ear and fancy, under thespell of the fair musician. 

Bertie was soon by the piano, but Bluebell ceased almost directly after. He had brought from Montreal [unreadable] Minstrel Melodies, then justout, and asked her to try one. She excused herself on the plea that itwas a man's song, so he began it himself. Who has not suffered from themale amateur, who comes forward with bashful fatuity to favour thecompany with a strain tame and inaudible as a nervous school girl's?Bertie was no musician, and his songs were all picked up by ear, butthere was a passion and _timbre_ in the tenor voice, fascinating ifunskilful, and the refrain of "Gentle Annie, "

 "Shall we never more behold her, Never hear that winning voice again, Till the spring time comes, gentle Annie, Till the wild flowers are scattered o'er the plain?"

lingered with its mournful, tender inflection in more than one earthat night. 

Afterwards the two young men from the barracks, muffled to the chin inbuffalo robes, lit the inevitable cigar, and jingled merrily off to themusic of the bells. 

CHAPTER IV. 

SATURDAY AT HOME. 

 Unhasp the lock--like elves set free, Flit out old memories; A strange glow gathers round my heart. Strange moisture dims mine eyes. --Lawrance. 

Cecil woke the next morning with the feeling that something pleasant hadhappened; and then she remembered that Bertie Du Meresq was actually inthe house, and the old folly as likely as ever to begin again; but, notpossessing the self-examining powers of Anthony Trolloppe's heroines, shemade no attempt to argue herself out of her unreasonable happiness, and, indeed, dwelt far more than necessary on the warm, sudden hand-clasp soinopportunely witnessed by full private Bowers. She came down radiant, and looking positively handsome; but when did a too sunny dawn escape acloud ere noon? Bertie seemed different somehow, --was not certain hecould get more leave, --was even doubtful about asking for it; and Cecil'smental Mercury, which had been "set fair, " went down to "change. " Inreality, Du Meresq not being so etherealized by love, felt out of sorts, and not up to the mark that morning, and, therefore, probably opined withMoore--

 "Thus should woman's heart and looks, At noon be cold as winter brooks, Nor kindle till the night returning Brings their genial hour for burning. "

At any rate, he actually went to the barracks with the Colonel, "as if hecouldn't get enough of that, " thought Cecil, "when he is not on leave. "

But after severe reflections on herself for caring a straw about it, Cecil had forgiven him, and a deceitful sunbeam peeped through in theprospect of meeting at luncheon, only to be again overcast, as theColonel returned without the recreant Bertie. 

This second reverse overthrew her afternoon arrangements, for she hadreckoned on Du Meresq's escort to the Rink. This being Saturday, Bluebellalways went home till the following day, and Mrs. Rolleston would not beavailable even for a drive, for she hated sleighing, and was lookingforward to writing her English letters in the cozy drawing-room, andsociably imbibing afternoon tea with any visitors hardy enough to facethe bitter northwester, happily so rare a visitant in that sufficientlyinclement climate. 

But Cecil preferred facing any weather to her own thoughts, and, encountering three Astrakhan-jacketed and fur-capped sisters under convoyof Miss Prosody, was carried off by them to enliven their dismalconstitutional. 

In the meantime, Captain Du Meresq, having lunched at the barracks, drovewith Mr. Vavasour to the Rink, expecting to find both girls there: butspeculating rather the most on the chance of having a more unrestrainedconversation with Bluebell than he cared for under the eyes of herresponsible guardians. His projects also were to prove futile, for thatyoung person was speeding over the frozen tract on the common at thetime. The snow was as dry and hard as powdered sugar, and her cloud wasstiff with her frozen breath; her ears felt as though she had thrust theminto a holly-bush, and the razor-like wind in that unsheltered spot musthave arrested the circulation of any less healthy and youthfulpedestrian. The morning had dawned prosperously for her, as Mrs. Rolleston had accorded permission to join the sleigh-party, the _summumbonum_ of her hopes; and the gratification was rendered more complete bya charming present from Cecil of an ermine cap, muff lined with scarlet, and ermine neck-tie, fastened by its cunning little head and tail. 

Bluebell was picturing their effect on the velveteen jacket hithertoso coldly furnished forth, and thinking that Cecil must have orderedthem from Montreal with a view to this party, as they had arrived soopportunely. She remembered now that Lola had, apparently, beenstruggling with a secret for some days; and yet, when she, Bluebell, hadbeen so ecstatic, Cecil had seemed more thoughtful than sympathetic andmerely acknowledging her thanks by a quiet kiss, had escaped from theroom. 

Two expectant faces were peering over the blind at the cottage, watchingthe gay footsteps battling across the common. Even Aunt Jane lookedforward to seeing this weekly messenger from the outer world, which, needless to say, kept well aloof from these poor and insignificantladies. 

Bluebell always brought every piece of gossip she could collect to feedMiss Opie's inquisitive mind who was in no way exempt from the sinsupposed to most easily beset spinsterhood and her girlish spiritsbrightened the quiet cottage and left their echo behind through the dullweek. She was by no means an unmixed good when she lived there. Hervivacity, having nothing to expend itself on, often turned to desperatefits of discontent and _ennui_, but now, coming home was a holiday andchange. 

All the inhabitants, old ladies, and new girl (for each successive onewent away to better herself after a few weeks residence), assembledsimultaneously at the hall door, and drew their visitor from the bitterblast into the stove lit parlour. One yet more humble welcomer was thereof the vagabond tribe--petty larceny in every curve of his ungainly form, and his spirit so broken by adversity that he only ventured to wag hisshabby tail in recognition of his benefactress. 

This was Bluebell's casual--one of a too common race in Canada ofhomeless, starved animals there being no Refuge or dog tax to compel themto live under protection or not at all. 

This reclaimed cur after overcoming his strong suspicion of poison, hadsupported himself for sometime on the food Bluebell placed for him in theshed and when emboldened by hunger and the handsome treatment he hadreceived he ventured into the house, he was authorized to remain as watchdog and protector. 

In the summer, too, horses were added to her pensioners and invited in tograze on the patch of enclosed grass at the back of the cottage, till itfell short from being burned up or eaten, for the common was haunted withgaunt, famished quadrupeds, who, in the drought of summer, were stillleft to look for the mockery of subsistence on the bare, parched ground. 

It was a cheerful party gathered round the tea-table, quite lavishly setforth in honour of the guest. Scones and tea cakes were plenteouslysaturated with butter, regardless of its winter price (the old ladieswould breakfast on bread and scrape the rest of the week withuncomplaining self-denial), and a heavy plum cake formed the _piêce deresistance_. 

Trove, for olfactory reasons, was accommodated with his share on a rugin the passage. Bluebell was the chief talker, with her week's arrearsof news. Captain du Meresq's arrival created a little buzz of interest. 

"Is he handsome?" asked Mrs. Leigh, sentimentally, whose thoughts hadflown back to earlier days. 

Bluebell looked up with an odd, perplexed glance. "Upon my word, I don'tknow. "

"Ah! there were more good-looking people in my day, " said her mother. "There was Captain Fletcher, in your poor father's regiment, thehandsomest man that was ever seen, --fresh-coloured, with golden whiskers, and long, drooping moustache. All we girls were wild about him. IsCaptain Du Meresq at all like that?"

"Not in the least. I can't describe him--fine-shaped head, such strangeeyes. Oh! I dare say you would think him hideous, " with a consciouslaugh. 

Miss Opie coughed suspiciously. "It is unfortunate, " said she, "when youare in such a pleasant situation, that any disturbing element shouldenter. I hope, Bluebell, you will be very circumspect in your demeanourtowards this gentleman. "

"What, " said Bluebell, in demure imitation of her manner, "would youconsider an appropriate attitude for me to assume towards him?"

"These fine Captains are too fond of turning young girls' heads, " saidMiss Opie, shaking her own; "'leading captive silly women, ' as we read. If he attempt any foolish, trifling conversation, you should check itwith cold civility. "

Bluebell burst into an irreverent fit of laughter, and even Mrs. Leighsaid, --"Oh, those are your English ideas, Aunt Jane; we are not so stiffin Canada. "

Mrs. Opie having been a governess for ten years in the mother country, was looked upon as a naturalized Briton. 

"I think the old country must be very dull, " said Bluebell. "Miss Prosodyis always pursing up her mouth and bridling if I laugh and talk with anyof the officers; and one day I distinctly overheard her whisper to theColonel, --'very forward, ' and nod towards me. "

"It is, however, well to profit by such remarks, " returned Miss Opie;"there is doubtless some truth in them, however unpalatable. "

"But, " urged the girl, "Colonel Rolleston can't _bear_ one to be silentor dull; he always asks if one isn't well; and I shouldn't think youcould call Captain Du Meresq a flirt. Why, he has hardly spoken ten wordsto me yet, "--but a sudden glow came to her cheeks as she remembered howmany he had looked. 

"Well, well, I was only warning you. Fetch the backgammon board; yourmother has won seven games and I nine since you went. "

Bluebell complied, and, settling the ladies on either side of apapier-maché table, opened the piano, and began dreamily playing throughthe music of the night before. Trove, finding the door ajar, had pushedin, and lay near the instrument, listening in that strange way some dogsdo if the tones come from the heart, and not merely the fingers. 

Having got through the last evening's _répertoire, _ she sat musing on themusic-stool, and then crooned rather low an old song of her mother's, beginning, --

 "They tell me thou art the favoured guest In many a gay and brilliant throng; No wit like thine to wake the jest, No voice like thine to raise the song. "

"Oh! that is too old-fashioned, " said Mrs. Leigh, and Miss Opie cougheddryly. But why need Bluebell have blushed so consciously, as she dashedinto Lightning galops and Tom Tiddler quadrilles, till Trove, like a dogof taste, took his offended ears and outraged nerves off to his lair inthe lobby?

His fair mistress soon after sought her bower, a scantily furnishedretreat, but, like most girls' rooms, taking a certain amount ofindividuality from its occupier. Everything in the little room was blue, and each article a present. Photographs of school friends were suspendedfrom the wall with ribbons of her name-sake colour. It was in the earlierdays of the art, when a stony stare, pursed lips, and general rigiditywere considered essential to the production of the portrait. 

Blue, also, were the pincushion and glass toilet implements on thedressing-table, and a rocking-chair had its cushion embroidered inbluebells--a tribute of affection from a late schoolfellow. 

The bed was curtainless, and neutral except as to its blue valance, andthe carpet only cocoa-nut matting, which, however, harmonized fairly withthe prevailing cerulean effect. 

Bluebell was writing in a book, guarded by a Bramah, some profoundreflections on "First Impressions. " She never lost the key nor forgot tolock this volume--a saving clause of common-sense protecting a farrago ofnonsence. 

"Ces beaux jours, quand j'étais si malheureux. " Have you ever, reader, taken up an old journal written in early youth, and thought how thoseintensely black and white days have now mingled into unnoticeable grey, half-thankful that the old ghosts are laid, half-regretful for thatkeener susceptibility to joy and sorrow gone by? Then, as "the handthat has written it lays it aside, " there is, perhaps, a pang at thereflection of how the paths now diverge of those who once walked togetheras--

 "Time turns the old days to derision, Our loves into corpses--or wives; And marriage, and death, and division, Make barren our lives. "

But Bluebell knows nothing of that. She is at the scribbling age, and canactually endure to describe, as if they were new and entirely original, the dawning follies of seventeen. 

In England a heroine might have wound up such sentimental exercises withgazing out on the moonlit scene; but nine degrees below zero wasunfavourable for the wooing of Diana. The "cold light of stars" was nopoetical figure, and Bluebell, frozen back to the prosaic, piled up thestove, and crept into bed, where her waking dreams soon merged intosleeping ones. 

CHAPTER V. 

A WOODLAND WALK. 

 I hope, pretty maid, you won't take it amiss, If I tell you my reason for asking you this, I would see you safe home (now the swain was in love), Of such a companion if you would approve. Your offer, kind shepherd, is civil, I own, But I see no great danger in going alone; Nor yet can I hinder, the road being free For one as another, for you as for me. 

It was Sunday afternoon. Bluebell was on her way to the Maples, and hadnot proceeded far when she observed a Robinson Crusoe-looking figure inone of those grotesque fur caps and impossible hooded blankets that thefashionable Briton in Canada so fondly affects. She was speculating idlyupon whom it could be. 

"Not Mr. Gordon, though the 'Fool's-cap' is like his; and Major Simeonhas one of those. Oh, Captain Du Meresq!"

She bowed rather undecidedly, and then moved on abruptly. 

But Bertie did not pass by. 

"Are you returning?" asked he. "They can't get on without you. Freddy hasdropped a cinder into his nurse's tea, and set fire to the straw in thecat's basket. "

Bluebell laughed shyly. 

"I have been to see mamma. Do not let me bring you out of your way, Captain Du Meresq, "--for he had turned back with her. 

"Oh, I was only going for a walk, " said Bertie, innocently, --a harmlessamusement that, without any other object, he was simply incapable ofundertaking. "Hadn't I better see you home; there's a brute of a dog downthere who sprang out at me! I broke my stick across his head, and then, of course, I had to apologize, being disarmed. "

"I know that fierce dog. He belongs to a cabman; but I always speak tohim, and he never attacks me. "

"Even a lion itself would flee from a maid in the pride of her purity, "laughed Bertie. "But, Miss Leigh, must we positively go shivering acrossthis bleak desert again?--isn't there some sheltered way through thewood?"

"There certainly is; but it is three miles round, and, I dare say, fullof drifts. "

"Never mind, all the better fun. Up this way?"

"Oh, but isn't it late? I think they will be expecting me before. "

"There's nobody at home, if that's all, " said Bertie. "They have gone tothe Cathedral, and most likely will turn into tea at the Van Calmonts. "

The scrambling walk was a temptation, the common hideous and cold. 

"We must walk very quick, then. "

"Run, if you like. Come along, there's a dear child. "

Bluebell coloured furiously. 

"Maybe I won't go at all now!"

"That is so like a girl, " said Bertie impatiently; "standing coquettingin the cold. Now, you are offended. What did I say? Only called you achild. "

"You had no business to speak so, " said Bluebell, angry at his familiarmanner, but rather at a loss for words. "Why can't you call me MissLeigh, like everybody else?" and the indignant little beauty paused, with hot cheeks, and feeling desperately awkward. 

Du Meresq bit his lip to hide a smile. He was half afraid she would dashoff and terminate the interview. 

"Dear me!" said he. "When you are a little older you will think youth avery good fault. Will you forgive me this once, Miss Leigh, and I willnot call you anything else?--for the present" (_sotto voce_). 

Bluebell was mollified, and rather proud of the good effects of herreproof, notwithstanding the half-inaudible rider. Du Meresq, also, was satisfied, for, without further opposition, they had struck intothe wood. Unused to the Britannic hamper of a chaperone, Bluebell sawnothing singular in the proceeding. So they crunched over the snow, keeping, as far as possible, the dazzling track marked by the wheelsof the sleigh-waggons, and plentifully powdered by the snow-laden trees;now up to their knees in a drift, from which Bertie had the pleasure ofextricating his companion, who forgot her shyness in the difficulties ofthe path, and, not being given to silence, was laughing and talking awayunreservedly. 

"What a strange girl she is!" thought Bertie. "Who would think, to hearher chattering now, she _could_ have made that prim little speech? I mustnot go on too fast; it reminds me of that Irish girl who said, the firsttime I squeezed her hand, 'Ah, Captain Du Meresq, but you are such abould flirt!'"

Sheltered from the bleak wind the walk on the crisp track was enjoyableenough; the "strange eyes, " being now on a line with and not confrontingher, were less embarrassing, and the slight awe she still felt of himonly gave a piquancy to the companionship. 

"Are you not very glad we came this way?" Bertie was saying. 

"If we had only snow-shoes, " cried the breathless Bluebell, for the thirdtime slipping into a drift, but struggling out before Du Meresq could domore than catch her hand. 

"Poor little fingers! how cold they are, " trying to put them in with hisown into his large beaver gloves. 

"Oh, I wish you would be sensible, " stammered Bluebell, much confused. 

"What's the use of being sensible, " retorted he, "when it is so muchpleasanter being otherwise? Time enough for that when anybody's by. "

But Bluebell wrenched her hand away, bringing off the glove, which shethrew on the snow. 

"Is that a challenge, Miss Bluebell? Must take up the gauntlet? Goodgracious, my dear child, you are not really annoyed? Well, we will besensible, as you call it. Only you must begin; I don't know how. "

"Evidently, " said Bluebell, very tartly, drawing as far away as theexigencies of the track would admit. She could hold her own well enoughwith the young subalterns she had hitherto flirted with, but this man wasolder, and had a bewildering effect on her. 

"Are you and Cecil great friends?" asked Bertie, presently, with the airof having forgotten the fracas. 

"I hope so, " coming out of her offended silence at this neutral topic. "Iknow I like her well enough. "

"And do you tell each other everything, after the manner of youngladies?"

"No-o, " said Bluebell, reflectively; "not like the girls at school. Yousee Cecil is older than I, and cleverer, I suppose, and doesn't talk muchnonsense. "

"Did she ever speak of me?" asked Bertie. 

"Hardly ever; the others have mentioned you often. "

"Cecil is a very sensible girl, " with a re-assured countenance; "and asyou never talk nonsense, I suppose you won't mention the trivial fact ofour having taken this walk?"

"Why in the world not?" opening her large violet eyes full upon him. 

"'Speech is silver, but silence is golden, ' you unsophisticated child, "returned he, enigmatically. 

Bluebell considered. "Why, of course, I shall tell Mrs. Rolleston whatmade me so late. "

"But not if she doesn't ask you?"

"But why not? There is _no harm_ in it, " said the girl, persistently. 

"No, no; but if you had lived as long as I, you would know that people_always_ try and interfere with anything pleasant. I should so like totake this walk with you every week, Bluebell. "

Bluebell looked down; she was vaguely flattered by his caring to repeatthe walk which she thought must be so unimportant to him, --it would besomething to look forward to, for she _had_ enjoyed it, though she couldnot tell why. 

"But, Captain Du Meresq--" she began. 

"Call me Bertie, when we are alone, " said he. 

They had entered on the street, Bluebell was wavering, but the lastsentence, "when we are alone, " struck her ear unpleasantly. 

"How can I?" said she; "I do not know you well enough. "

"Walk with me sometimes, " whispered Bertie, "and that reason willdisappear, but don't say a word about it to-day, there's a dear girl. I had better make tracks for the club; you will be at home in fiveminutes, "--and Du Meresq ceremoniously lifted his cap, for many eyes wereabout, and disappeared down another block. 

Bluebell on finding herself alone, went through a disagreeable reaction. It was certainly only a few yards to her destination; but it was annoyingto be left so abruptly, and an air of secrecy thrown over her actionstoo. Did she like him, or hate him? She could not determine; her fancyand her vanity were both touched, doubtless; then, remembering MissOpie's exhortations, a gleam of fun twinkled in her eyes as she thoughtof what her horror would have been at Bertie's affectionate ease ofmanner. 

All the same she crept into the house, feeling very underhand anduncomfortable. None of the party had returned, so reprieved for thepresent she went up to the nursery. 

Freddy was roaring on his back, he had just thrown "Peep-of-Day" at thenurse's head, which had been unwisely offered to him as a substitute forhis favourite trumpet, when its excruciating blasts become toounbearable. 

"Oh, I'm sure I'm glad you have come back, miss, for I don't know how toabide that wearyin' child, as don't know what a whipping is. Here's yourgoverness, sir, as will put you in the corner. "

"Hold your tongue, you fool!" cried Freddy with supreme contempt. 

The _suaviter in modo_ was, indeed, the only treatment allowed in thatnursery. Bluebell retreated with a highly-coloured scrap-book to thewindow, which she feigned complete absorption in. Freddy glanced at itout of the tail of his eye. 

"Show me that, Boobell. "

"I don't know, Freddy, " said the girl, feeling some slight moral coercionincumbent on her. "Do you _think_ you will call nurse a fool again?"

"She shouldn't bother, " said the infant, confidentially, climbing intoher lap, but declining to commit himself to any pledges of goodbehaviour. "Show me the book. "

Half-an-hour after, Mrs. Rolleston looking in, saw a pretty littlepicture--the old nurse was nodding in a rocking-chair. Bluebell's fairyoung face was bending over Freddy, seated on her lap, with as arm roundher neck, his cherubic visage beaming with interest as he listened to theclassic tale of "Three Wishes. " It was easier to her to continue therecital, while a dread of being questioned prevented her looking up. 

"Bluebell is telling Freddy such a beautiful fairy story, " said Mrs. Rolleston, to some one who had followed her to the nursery. 

"I wish she would tell fairy stories to me, " said Bertie. 

CHAPTER VI. 

VISITORS. 

 In aught that from me lures thine eyes My jealousy has trial; The lightest cloud across the skies Has darkness for the dial. --Lord Lytton. 

Bluebell had no difficulty in preserving silence about the Sunday'sescapade. It never occurred to Mrs. Rolleston to enquire what time shehad returned, and an evasive answer to Cecil was all that it entailed. But she was very much perplexed by the change in Captain Du Meresq'smanner. The cold civility recommended by Miss Opie seemed all on hisside. Nothing but good-humoured indifference was apparent in his manner. Their acquaintance did not seem to have progressed further than the firstevening; indeed, it had rather retrograded; and she could almost imagineshe had _dreamt_ the tender speeches he had lavished on her in the Humberwoods. 

Cecil and he were out sleighing most afternoons, and Bluebell was thrownon nursery and school-room for companionship--insipid pabulum to thevanity of a young lady in her first glimpse of conquest, and who believedshe had stricken down a quarry worthy of her bow. Having nothing todistract her, she considered the problem exhaustively from morning tillnight, and, if she were not in love with him before, she had got him intoher head now, if not into her heart. His being so much with Cecil did notstrike her as any clue to the mystery. They were relations, of course, ornearly the same thing; there was no flirting in their matter-of-factintercourse. 

Cecil found her one afternoon reading over the bed-room fire, in asomewhat desponding attitude. Miss Rolleston had just come in from adrive, her slight form shrouded in sealskins, an air of brightness andvivacity replacing her usual rather languid manner. 

"You wouldn't think it was snowing from my cloak, " cried she. "It isthough--quite a heavy fall, if you can call anything so light heavy. Wewere quite white when we came in, but it shakes off without wetting. "

"It won't be very good sleighing, then, to-morrow, and the wind isgetting up, too. "

"And what have you been doing, Bluebell?"

"I walked with the children and Miss Prosody in the Queen's Park, " saidthe latter, rather dolefully. 

"And it was very cold and stupid, I suppose?" said Cecil, kindly. "Comedown to the drawing-room and try some duets. "

There were two or three visitors below and Bertie, and some tea wascoming in. They were looking at a picture of Cecil's just returned frombeing mounted as a screen. It was a group of brilliant autumn leaves--thegorgeous maple, with its capricious hues, an arrow-shaped leaf, half red, half green, like a parrot's feather, contrasting with another "spottedlike the pard, " and then one blood-red. The collecting of them had beenan interest to the children in their daily walks, and Cecil had arrangedthem with artistic effect. 

One of the visitors was a rather pretty girl, whom Bluebell had knownformerly. She gave her, however, only a distant bow, while she answeredwith the greatest animation any observation of Captain Du Meresq's. Thisyoung lady was to be one of the sleighing party next day, and, as far asshe could admit such a humiliating fact, was trying to convey to him, that she was as yet unappropriated for any particular sleigh. 

"Who is to drive you, Miss Rolleston?" asked she, suspecting, from hisbackwardness in coming forward, that the object of her intentions mightbe engaged there. 

"I am going in the last sleigh, with Major Fane. We take the luncheon andpay the turnpikes. He is Vice-President this time. "

"By-the-bye, Du Meresq, " said the Colonel, rather exercised to find alady of the party without a swain, "whom have you asked?"

"Oh, everybody is engaged, " said Bertie, mendaciously ignoring MissKendal's half-admission of being open to an offer. "I shall not join thedrive at all, unless, " he added, in a hesitating manner, as if it was asudden thought, "Miss Leigh will compassionate me, and allow me to takecharge of her. "

Bluebell, confused by this unexpected proposition, and by feeling somany eyes turned upon her, did not immediately make any answer; then avexatious remembrance intruded itself, and she replied, with what thatindividual would have thought most unnecessary concern, --

"I am very sorry--I mean--I believe I am half-engaged to Mr. Vavasour. "

"I should think you were, " said Mrs. Rolleston. "I don't know what hewould say if you threw him over. "

"Oh!" said Bertie, plaintively, "if that insinuating youth has beenbeforehand, of course there's no chance for me. Well, I am out of thehunt, "--and he carelessly whistled a bar of "Not for Joseph" in reply toa suggestive motion of his sister's towards Miss Kendal. 

"I should think it so dull, " said that young lady, tossing her head, "tobe engaged so long before. _I_ do not intend to decide till the day. "

"What shall you keep all your admirers in suspense till the last moment?"said Bertie, with a covert sneer, for he was angry at her slightingbehaviour to Bluebell. "What a scramble there will be!"

Miss Kendal was not altogether satisfied with the tone of the remark, soshe commenced tying on her cloud, observing sharply, "Well, mamma, weshall be benighted if we stay any longer. "

Bertie dutifully attended them to the sleigh, and won the elder lady'sheart by the skill with which he tucked round her the fur robes and theparting grace of his bow. 

She was about to purr out some commendation, when--"What a bear that manis!" burst with startling vehemence from Miss Kendal's coral lips. 

"Oh! my dear, what can you mean? I thought he seemed so agreeable. "

"I as good as told him, " muttered the ruffled fair, too angry to bereticent, "that I had no one to drive me to-morrow; and I think it wasreal rude asking that Bluebell Leigh before my face, --a mere nurserygoverness--and not giving me so much as the chance of refusing him. "

"But you said, " urged Mrs. Kendal, who did not see beyond the proverbialnasal tip, "that you would not decide on your sleigh till the day. "

"I only know, " said the daughter, with dark emphasis, "I wouldn't drivewith him now, if he went on his bended knees to ask me. "

"Thank you, Bella, " said Bertie, returning. "Nice little game you had cutout for me! What an odious girl!"

Cecil's jealous instinct detected the root of this animosity, moreespecially guided thereto by his attempt to secure Bluebell as acompanion, which had surprised her not too agreeably. 

"What is her crime, " said she, sarcastically, "beyond a rathertransparent design of driving with you Bertie?"

"She is hung with bangles like an Indian squaw, and has a Yankee twang inher voice. "

"She pretended to scarcely remember me, " said Bluebell, "though we wereat school together. "

"Jealous, I dare say, " laughed Bertie. "Is she an admirer of JackVavasour's?"

"Fancy any one admiring a boy like that!" said Bluebell, who did not feelin charity with her allotted charioteer. 

Bertie had advanced to take her cup, and as she said this, it seemed toCecil he touched her hand caressingly under cover of it. 

"I dare say, " said she sharply, "Alice Kendal has as many admirers asother people, and, perhaps, can dispense with counting Captain Du Meresqamong them. "

Bluebell looked up, astonished at her manner; but Bertie perceived itwith more intelligence, and the thought, "What a bore it will be ifshe is jealous, " afterwards passed through his mind, --by which may beinferred he had had in contemplation the acquisition of "Heaven's lastbest gift. "

CHAPTER VII. 

THE GARRISON SLEIGH CLUB. 

 'T were a pity when flowers around us rise, To make light of the rest, if the rose be not there; And the world is so rich in resplendent eyes, 'T were a pity to limit one's love to a pair. --Moore. 

"I never saw a prettier sight in my life, " cried Cecil, as she stood witha motley group in the verandah of "The Maples, " the rendezvous of thesleighing party. As each sleigh turned in at the gate and deposited itsfreight, it fell into rank which extended all round the lawn, tillscarcely a space was left on the drive that encircled it, and the airrang with the bells on the nodding horses' heads. 

"What the--blazes!" ejaculated Bertie, as Mr. Vavasour rounded thecorner at a trot in a red-wheeled tandem, scarlet plumes on the horses, and the robes a combination of black bear-skins and scarlet trimming. Theleader, a recent importation from England, better acquainted with thehunting-field than the traces, reared straight on end; but a judiciousflick on her ear sent her with a bound almost into the next sleigh, andthe tandem drew up at the hall door to an inch. 

"Post? mail-cart? nonsense!" said Jack, shaking hands all round 'mid anavalanche of chaff. "Nice cheerful colour for a cold day; that's all. "

"Quite scorching, " said Major Fane. "Well, Miss Rolleston, if they leaveus behind at the turnpikes, we shall never lose sight of them with Jack'sflames for a beacon. "

"How do you like your tandem, Bluebell?" asked Cecil, "and how far do youexpect to get before Mr. Vavasour upsets you?" added she, _sotto voce_. 

"I don't care if he chooses a good place, " laughed Bluebell. 

"Why, I thought Bertie wasn't going, " said, Mrs. Rolleston, as thatindividual drove up in a modest cutter with a gentleman companion. 

"I think he changed his mind when he heard Miss Kendal was going withpapa, " said Cecil. 

"I believe we are all here, " said Colonel Rolleston, who was to lead theprocession, coming out with the great lady of the party, an eccentricdowager peeress, who having "tired her wing" with flying through theStates, was now perching awhile before re-crossing the Herring-pond. MissKendal and a subaltern, pressed into the service, placed themselves inthe back seat, well smothered in wolf-skins, and the first sleigh movedoff to the admiration of the school-room party at the window, who, withthe partiality of childhood, thought their papa's the most beautifulturn-out in the city. 

"Mr. Vavasour's horse is up the bank, " screamed Fleda. "How much betterpapa drives; he went off so quickly and quietly. I wouldn't be Bluebell!Mr. Vavasour can hardly get out at the gate. "

"If papa had to drive one horse before another, perhaps he couldn'teither, " said Lola, who had been watching with great interest the erraticcourse of Jack's leader. 

Twenty sleighs were off in a string, the crowd cheering them to the echoas they dashed through Queen's Park; but on gaining Carleton Street theywere obliged carefully to keep the track, as the sides of the road weredeep and treacherous. 

"The Colonel is making the pace very slow, " remarked Mr. Vavasour; "liketo drive, Miss Leigh? they are going very smoothly. "

Bluebell, whose knowledge of horses was about equal to her opportunitiesof instruction, unhesitatingly assented. Jack's gratification thereat wassomewhat tempered, when he saw the bewilderment apparent in his flightypair at the very original manner in which she handled her "lines. "

"I suppose, " said that young lady, with the composure of ignorance, "weare all right as long as this bald-face horse keeps its nose pointing atCaptain Delamere's back. "

"Quite so, " said Jack, cheerily; "don't take the whip, you are onlywinding it round your own neck. I'll give Dahlia a lick in the face ifshe turns out of the rank. "

They were winding down a hill, and took a road at the bottom at rightangles to it. Colonel Rolleston, in the first sleigh, was blandlypointing out to Lady Hampshire the _coup d'oeil_ of the whole processionas they described two sides of a triangle. 

"Do you like my plumes?" asked Jack, relaxing his surveillance on Dahlia, as her left ear, which had been laid back in a suggestive manner, resumedits accustomed position. 

"Like them, " echoed Bluebell; "it's just like a hearse, bar the colour, which is frightful. I wouldn't have come if I had known I was to bedriven in such a fire-engine. "

"There now, " rather crest-fallen. "I chose them because you said you were_fond_ of scarlet, otherwise I should have preferred blue, except that Imight have been taken for one of the 10th, who mount their regimentalcolours on everything. "

"I like the 10th, " said Bluebell, perversely; "they are all good-lookingexcept the Adjutant, who got his nose sliced off by a Sikh, andthe. .. . Goodness what's that?" as a fearful shout, followed by asudden checking of horses, brought the whole line to a stand-still. 

"What's the matter?" was passed from one sleigh to another up to thefront: the return message, shouted and taken up as each one interpretedit, became soon about as intelligible as it does in the game of Russianscandal, and for the next few minutes everybody was conjecturing at once. 

"Here's Du Meresq, " cried Jack, as Bertie came ploughing through thesnow. 

"Halloa, guard! what's wrong on the line?"

"Run into a goods' train, " said he, keeping on his course to theVice-President's sleigh. 

"Du Meresq never tells one anything, " said Jack; "I hate a mysteriousfellow; somebody's capsized, I suppose, and he's gone for some brandy. "

"Perhaps for a shovel, " suggested Bluebell. "Colonel Rolleston may havecome to a drift. "

"Don't see how we are to reverse our engine, " replied Jack, looking eachside of the road, where the snow was piled four or five feet. 

Bertie, however, had not gone for a shovel, which would have beenperfectly useless, but to explain the situation and assist in turninground the sleighs. In front of Colonel Rolleston was a huge rampart ofsnow, extending for some distance. The wind setting dead in thatdirection, had drifted it across, and buried the track several feet. Thisroad had been clear the day before, for Bertie and Cecil had driven it toascertain, but the wind had changed and snow fallen during the night. 

Major Fane's sleigh was successfully turned, after a great deal ofassistance to the horses, who floundered up to their shoulders; and tothis haven of refuge Du Meresq was conducting several young ladies, foreach sleigh having to turn on the spot where their progress was arrested, a certain number of upsets was inevitable. 

"Come, Miss Leigh, " said a voice beneath her, "you mustn't stick to theship any longer. Why, this is the worst bit of all. You can't jump; trustto me. " And to Jack's indignation, Bertie lifted her from the wheel andcarried her through some deep snow to a dry place. There was a certainamount of excuse for it, as he couldn't have deposited her in the drift, and turning the tandem took up its owner's whole attention, and theservices of three or four volunteers; but he fancied Du Meresq hadsqueezed the little hand before he relinquished it, and ere the tell-taleblush had passed from Bluebell's face, Jack had turned, jumped out andreplaced her in the tandem with quiet decision. 

Bluebell, confused by the powerless way she had been handed about betweenher two admirers, could not rally directly, and sat meditating an earlysnubbing for Jack, but a ridiculous incident soon distracted herattention. 

"Get out? No, thank you, Captain Du Meresq, " cried Lilla Tremaine, atall, handsome girl in the sleigh behind; "you'd find me a preciousweight to carry, and I am very comfortable where I am. Turn away, CaptainDelamere, we'll sink or swim together. "

Thus urged, the individual called on made his effort; the sleigh turned, indeed, but on its side, and the adventurous Miss Tremaine, summarilyejected, sank to her waist in the deep snow, her crinoline rising as shedescended, spread out under her arms, looking like an inverted umbrella. Jack and Bluebell were suffocating with the laughter they vainly tried tohide, and Bertie, who was on foot, took in the situation at once, andrushed to the rescue. 

"Put your arms round my neck, Miss Tremaine, " cried he, peremptorily. 

The poor girl, half crying with shame and cold, did so, and Du Meresq, grasping her firmly round the waist, endeavoured to drag her forth. 

"It's even betting she pulls him in, " cried Jack, in a most unfeelingecstasy, for Miss Tremaine was no pocket Venus--rather answered theIrishman's description of "an armful of joy. "

"Oh, dear!" said poor Lilla, trembling with cold, as she found herself on_terra firma_, "I never can go on; the snow has made me quite wetthrough. "

"Of course you can't, " said Bertie, decidedly; "you'd catch your death ofcold. Delamere, you drive on with the other Miss Tremaine, " for they hadboth been in his sleigh, "and I'll take Miss Lilla home in my cutter, where she can get dry clothes. You must all pass their house on your wayback, when we can fall in again; so that's all settled. Oh, Meredith, Iforgot you. Hitch on to some other sleigh, there's a good fellow. I am onambulance duty; somebody tell Colonel Rolleston--presently. "

Then Bertie, who had his own reasons for hurrying, placed Miss Tremaine, still shivering from her snow bath, in the cutter, and drove rapidly off. 

"Well, I am d----d, " muttered Captain Delamere to Vavasour; "she hasnever seen the fellow before!"

"Hush, pray, " said Jack, affectedly; "he _is_ an officious young man. Butbe thankful for small mercies, old boy; you have got one left. "

"That's the wrong one, " growled Delamere. 

After a brief consultation about the route, a unanimous vote for luncheonwas passed, so they drove on till they came to an open space, thecontrary side of the wood in which Du Meresq and Bluebell had walked onSunday. Here all the sleighs formed up together, and Major Fane's larderwas ransacked. 

Curaçoa, mulled claret, hot coffee, etc. , kept warm in a blanket, werepassed round, with mutton pies, croquettes, cakes and other edibles; andcirculation being restored, all was mirth and hilarity. 

Colonel Rolleston alone remained dark and moody. He had just discoveredthe defection of Du Meresq and Lilla, and, having his own opinion of hisbrother-in-law, disapproved of it entirely. Miss Tremaine also was muchtoo flighty for his taste, and he was very hard on Captain Delamere fornot applying to him to get her decorously out of her delicate dilemma. 

He made up his mind to curtail the drive, and call at Mr. Tremaine's athis earliest convenience. 

Bertie, in the meantime, delighted at getting a _tête-à-tête_ witha handsome girl, instead of driving in a monotonous string with Mr. Meredith, proceeded to improve the occasion with such success that hisfair companion forgot her wet stockings, and even omitted to observe thatthey had passed the turn leading to the paternal abode. 

When she did remark it, Bertie easily persuaded her that she must bequite dry now, and that, as they had missed the garrison drive, they hadbetter take one on their own account. Miss Lilla, unrestrained by thedetective eyes of her elder sister, was ripe for any frolic, and Bertiecertainly did not find so many obstacles in the way of an affectionateflirtation as he had with Bluebell. 

But our business is with the trans-Atlantic picnic in the snow, not withthe "cutting out" expedition of this reprobate pair. Having distributedthe remainder of the luncheon to the servants, a start was againeffected. Lilla's adventure had left its impression one way or another ontwo or three of the party. Jack was delighted that Du Meresq was off on afresh pursuit, and so not likely to be hanging about Bluebell; and thatdamsel was trying, by a reckless flirtation with Vavasour, to stifle thevexatious conviction that Bertie had only been making a fool of her onSunday, and was now probably repeating the same game with Miss Tremaine. Yet at this period her vanity was more wounded than her heart; verydifferent from poor Cecil, whose infatuation was of older date, and notthe mere result of a few flattering speeches. 

For a girl of her disposition to set her affections on a man like Bertiewas certain misery. She had no rivals in those days when she learnt tocare so intensely for the sympathetic companion who understood her somuch better than any one else. He understood her; therein was the potentcharm; her mind awoke and her ideas vivified from contact with his, astwo happily-contrasted colours become brighter in hue in juxtaposition. No companion had ever suited her so perfectly, and yet Bertie hadscarcely made direct love to her. It seemed a matter of course that theyshould care most for each other, and Cecil's young and ardent heart haddrifted beyond recall ere she had done more than suspect another side tohis character. 

Now she perceived that Bertie's affection for her by no means made himinsensible to the bright eyes of the fair Canadians; yet the more shecared for his philandering interludes with other girls the less sheshowed it, except that her manner grew colder, though, unfortunately, herheart did not. 

Major Fane was disappointed with Cecil's preoccupied mood. He had takensome pains to secure her for this drive, and she hadn't a word to say tohim. He certainly admired her, but, perhaps, it was more his horror ofCanadian girls that had made her his choice for the day. He always saidtheir only idea of conversation was chaff, and rudeness under cover ofit; and as he had been the victim of many such "smart" speeches, helooked upon them with nervous aversion. 

The quiet repose of a lady-like English girl gained by the contrast. There was rather too much tranquillity to-day, perhaps; so he exertedsome tact to draw Cecil from her reserve, the cause of which he wasunable to guess. He agreed with her in reviling the monotony andstupidity of sleighing picnics, having to follow one by one like a stringof geese, long after one was perished with cold, though he failed todetect in her weariness that she was wishing for her father to stop atthe Tremaines', and annex the truant sleigh to the rest. 

Her discontent somewhat relieved by expression, she became ashamed of herunsociability, and Major Fane's next topic was not uncongenial. He wasairing his cherished grudge, and pronouncing a severe philippic on thebelles of the Dominion. Cecil was incapable of detraction, or envy atanother's greater success; but in the face of Bertie's abduction of Lillabefore her eyes, she did not feel particularly in charity with anydaughter of Canada. 

In the meantime Bluebell, in the strangest of spirits, refused torelinquish the reins, even in difficult places, and conducted herselfgenerally with a mixture of recklessness and ignorance that gave Jackenough to do to look out. 

He rather took advantage of this mood to make more decided love than hehad hitherto done; but while he thought her wild with fun and spirits, she was really goaded on by vexation and bitterness of heart; and perhapsher most immediate wish was for solitude to drop the mask and bemiserable in peace. 

That was impossible, at present. Jack was tiresome. He was givingher directions how to steer up a hill, formidable from its narrowtrack and deep drop on either side. Dahlia, it seemed, jibbed sometimes, she must--Bluebell was paying no attention. Good Heavens! what washappening?--the leader backing and sliding! Jack's stinging whip andclutch at the reins could not arrest the catastrophe. Dahlia rears andfalls over the edge, pulling sleigh and wheeler after her into a troughof snow. 

Bluebell blinded and half suffocated--no wonder, for three bear-skins andtwo cushions were a-top of her (not to mention Jack, who had caught hisleg in the reins, and was unable immediately to rise), --made vain effortsto extricate himself; the horses were struggling on their sides; andaltogether, as the Americans say, it was rather "mixed. "

Somehow or another, no one ever does get hurt out of a sleigh, even afteran _impromptu_ header of a dozen feet. Ten minutes later the party were_en route_ again, Bluebell transferred, _en pénitence_, to ColonelRolleston's sleigh, _vice_ the subaltern; and by this time nearly everyone was discontented and anxious to return. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

FIXING UP A PRANCE. 

 "'Tis over, The valse, the quadrille, and the song, The whispered farewell of the lover; The heartless adieu of the throng, The heart that was throbbing with pleasure; The eyelid that longed for repose, The beaux that were dreaming of treasure. The girls that were dreaming of beaux. " --Edward Firzgerald. 

Before they got to the Tremaines' house, Bertie drove up with Miss Lilla, who was "quite dry now, thank you; not worth while bringing all thesleighs up to the door. " More than one curious observer noticed thepanting flanks of the horse, who scarcely looked as if he had beenresting in a stable. To be sure, the delinquents _had_ done that lastmile rather fast, to nick in and meet the party before they should makeinconvenient inquiries at Mr. Tremaine's, --Bertie, who was as good amimic as his mother, enhancing the fright of his fair companion by animprovisation of the scene that would probably take place supposingthey were too late to prevent it, and further convulsing her with atravesty of his brother-in-law in his most imposing attitude of statelydispleasure. 

Lilla nearly had a relapse when they met the rest, as Colonel Rolleston'sface was the faithful reproduction of Bertie's five minutes before; butthe ironical silence with which he received her speech, rather diminishedtheir triumph at having escaped detection. The girls were all to returnto "The Maples, " dress there, and go to the dinner and dance at thebarracks, under Mrs. Rolleston's sole chaperonage. 

The scrambling toilette was got through with much noise and merriment. 

"Oh, has any one seen my 'waist'?" and "Do smooth my waterfall, " wereenigmatical exclamations of frequent occurrence. Cecil's dormitoryresembled a milliner's show-room from the variety of dresses spread onthe bed. 

These were not of a very extravagant description; papery pink or greensilk seemed most in vogue, completed with rows of beads round the throat;but when viewed in connexion with the apple-blossom complexions, abundanthair and dancing eyes of the Canadian belles, the adventitious aids ofdress might well be deemed as superfluous as painting the lily. 

Half-a dozen covered sleighs, going and returning, transported the partyto the barracks, where, escorted by their military hosts, they ascendedthe staircase, banked with evergreens, and lined by motionless soldiersto the ante-room, which, of course, looked as unattractive as the cordialbut mistaken exertions of its proprietors could make it--all the_laissez-aller_ comfort primly tidied away, and such a roasting fire asspeedily drove every one to remote corners of the room. 

The _mauvais quart d'heure_ before dinner had the usual sobering effect, and young people, who later on would be valsing together on the easiestof terms, now shyly looked over photograph books, and discoursed with anedifying amount of diffidence and respect. Each one was to go in todinner with his companion of the sleigh--an arrangement of questionablewisdom, and, as Bertie said, "It behoved one to be doubly careful whomone drove. " Captain Delamere was furious, for, when he claimed Lilla, shecalmly replied, "That having taken them both, she of course supposed hewould ask her elder sister, and, therefore, had promised Captain DuMeresq. "

Before Delamere had done anathematizing his folly in giving the saucyLilla such a loop-hole to throw him over, the trumpet sounded, foldingdoors opened, and fifty people sat down to the cheery repast. 

The table was bright with regimental plate, racing cups, and hot-houseflowers. The band commenced playing "Selections, " somewhat deafening, perhaps, but then it was too cold to put them out of doors. 

Cecil and Bluebell were neither of them too much gratified at witnessingthe furious flirtation going on at dinner between Captain Du Meresq andMiss Tremaine; but Cecil, who never looked at them, and therefore, ofcourse, saw everything, fancied the admiration most on the lady's side, and even some of her _oeillades_, bravado. To be sure Bertie never didflirt seriously _en évidence_, if he could help it. 

Bluebell, completely out of sorts, was acquiring a painful experience. Du Meresq's conduct seemed inexplicable and provoking as she ponderedindignantly on her walk at the Humber, and mentally ejaculated with MissSqueers, "Is this the hend?"

Jack, temporarily discouraged by her indifference to himself, which cameon rather rapidly at dinner, gave his next neighbour the benefit of hisconversation. 

But this unsatisfactory repast to our heroines was not unnecessarilyprolonged, the mess-room having to be cleared for the great business ofthe evening, which, let us hope will prove what it is sure to be calledin next day's discussion "a very good ball. "

Why this undescriptive phrase should be applied to every well-attendeddance, with a supper, has always perplexed us; for, of course, every onereally judges it by his or her own personal success and enjoyment, notunfrequently incompatible with that of some one else. Yet it is allsummed up next morning in the summary verdict "good, " or "bad. " If thereis a deficiency of gentlemen, space, supper, or _ton_, the latter; butgiven these indispensables, you may have been jilted for your bosomfriend by your latest conquest, yet you must come up smiling, and endorsethe public panegyric on the hated evening till the subject be superseded. 

Bluebell, a few weeks ago, would have looked upon this ball as the acmeof delight. She was in great request, and, indeed, attained that highestobject of young lady ambition, being belle of the evening; but now herhappiness did not depend on the many--dance after dance passed, and theonly partner she cared for had not once engaged her. 

Bertie had been sitting out half the evening with Lilla in aconservatory, and when they did emerge, was seized on by hisbrother-in-law with very black looks, and introduced to a somewhatunappreciated young lady. 

Bertie had the happy knack of appearing equally charmed, whetherpresented to a beauty or the reverse; but he inscribed himself very lowdown on her card, remorselessly ignoring the intervening blanks, and thenapproached Cecil, who, in black and amber, was the most striking-lookinggirl in the room. Though inferior in beauty to many, her fine figure andexpressive eyes could never pass unnoticed. 

"Dear little Cecil, how well she is looking!" thought he, facilelyforgetting his latest flame, and just becoming sensible of her "alteredeye. "

"My niece, " said Bertie, in a theatrical tone, intended to disguise hisperception of it, "shall we tread a measure? Let me lead you forth intothe mazy dance. "

"Excuse me, Bertie, " said Cecil, languidly; "I am only going to dance thetwo or three round ones I am engaged for, and I know you do not care forsquare. "

"I should think not, " said he angrily, "when you are going to dance roundones with other fellows. "

"You see you asked too late, " said she, indifferently. 

"Will you go in to supper with me then?"

"That was all arranged and written down ages ago. Let me see, I amticketed for the Major again. "

"As you have been all day. I never saw such a cut and-dried, monotonousprogramme for a party: all done by rule--no freedom of action. "

"Really, Bertie, you and Miss Tremaine can't complain. "

"That's why you are so cold to me to-night, Cecil, " said Du Meresq, quietly. 

"What can it signify to me?" retorted she, freezingly, vexed at havingpermitted the adversary, so to speak, to discover the joint in herharness. Her partner, who had been hovering near, now claimed and boreher unwillingly away, for next to being friends with Bertie was thepleasure of "riling" him by smiling icyness. It was the only weapon shepermitted herself, as she would not condescend to any visible sign ofjealousy or pique. 

Bertie was simply _gêné_ by her determination to be all or nothing; therewas no satisfying such an unreasonable girl. Like the immortal Lilyvick, "he loved them all, " yet her thoughtful mind and gentle companionshipwere becoming more to him than he was himself aware of. 

Cecil, valsing round, looked at each turn for his tall figure leaningagainst the wall. It was an abstracted attitude, and he seemed graverthan usual. 

"Had she made him unhappy?"--she trusted so--would give the world to readhis thoughts. 

Some one said, "There is no punishment equal to a granted prayer. " DuMeresq was wrapt in speculation as to whether they had really succeededin getting a wild turkey for supper, which the Mess President was inmaddening doubt about the day before. 

That blissful moment was at hand, and the room thinned with a celerityborn of _ennui_, I suppose, for very few people are really hungry, yet itis the invariable signal for as simultaneous a rush as of starvingpaupers when the door of a soup kitchen is opened. To be sure, there arethe chaperones, poor things, round whom no "lovers are sighing, " and, perhaps, supper _is_ the liveliest time to them--old gentlemen, too, might be allowed some indulgence; but what can be said for dancing men, wasting the precious moments of their partners, while they lingercongregated together among the _débris_ and champagne-corks?

"What a clearance, " said Bluebell, subsiding, with a fagged air, on to asofa, as her partner bowed himself off with an eye to business. 

"Forward the heavy brigade, " said Bertie, motioning to his brother-in-lawbearing off Lady Hampshire; "only room for thirty at a time. _We_ mustwait, Miss Leigh. "

"I am ready to wait. But what have 'we' got to say to it?" said Bluebell, with her Canadian directness. 

"Don't speak so unkindly, " said Bertie, sentimentally, flinging himselfon the sofa by her side. "You don't know all I have suffered this week. "

"You certainly disguised it very well, " said the girl, with totaldisbelief in her eyes. 

"Do you think I felt nothing when I saw you all day with Vavasour, who every one knows is madly in love with you; and then dancing everydance--not leaving a corner in your programme for me?"

"You didn't ask me, " said Bluebell, less austerely. 

"No, for you never so much as looked my way. Besides, Bluebell, I toldyou we must be careful. If Colonel Rolleston guessed my feelings foryou--he is so selfish, he forgets he has been young himself--I should beno longer welcome here. "

"Then, I am sure, " said Bluebell, the tears rushing to her eyes, "I wishyou had never come. I have been _miserable_ ever since I took that stupidwalk, which you prevented my mentioning; and--and--"

"Let's be miserable again next Sunday, Bluebell, " whispered Bertie. 

"I shall not go home; or, if I do, I'll stop there. I'll _never_ walkwith you again, Captain Du Meresq. "

"'Quoth the raven, "never more!"' I know what it is, you are tired todeath. Sit still on the sofa and I will bring you some supper; sleighingall day and dancing all night have distorted your mental vision, "--andBertie dashed off, passing the young lady he was engaged to on his way tothe supper room, with an inward conviction that their dance must be aboutdue. Having possessed himself of a modicum of prairie hen, he intercepteda tumbler of champagne cup just being handed across the table to CaptainDelamere. 

"Confound it, that's mine!" said the aggrieved individual. 

"I want it for a lady, " urged Bertie. 

"So do I, " said Delamere. 

"My dear fellow, " said Bertie, chaffingly, nodding towards a gorgeousAmerican, "it is for Mrs. Commissioner Duloe. She must not be keptwaiting. "

"I won't allow my lady to be second to any lady in the room, " criedDelamere who was elevated. 

Bertie was in too great a hurry to chaff Delamere any longer, for, perceiving that his relatives were safely at supper, he resolved tomake the most of the few minutes at his disposal, and, as he wouldhave expressed it, "lay it on thick. "

Bluebell was leaning languidly back on the sofa, watching the formsof the dancers, ever revolving past the open door to the strains ofa heart-broken valse. (_En passant_, why are the prettiest valses allplaintive and despairing, quadrilles and lancers cheerful and jiggy, and galops reckless, not to say tipsy?)

Bertie, with his spoils, was by her side, and, having restored her nerveswith champagne, proceeded to agitate them again with the warmestprotestations of affection. The child with the day's experience beforeher, only half-believed him, but the spirit of coquetry woke up, and sheresolved to try and make him care for her as much as he pretended to do. 

But Bluebell was trying her 'prentice hand with a veteran in suchwarfare. 

They were alone in the little room, in one adjoining a few people weresitting. 

"I wish that girl would not watch us so, " said Bluebell, indicating oneapparently deep in a photograph book, under cover of which she wasfurtively observing them. 

"Oh, " said Bertie, with a groan, "she's been following me about eversince I asked her for a dance six off. I hope it is over. "

"I dare say she's very angry at being left sitting out, " said Bluebell. "I am sure I should be. "

"Ah, " said Bertie, "your experience will be all the other way--it's uspoor fellows who will be thrown over, besides, she shouldn't have gotintroduced to me. I saw her going on the wrong leg and all out of step, and Jack Vavasour says she's a regular stick-in-the-mud to talk to. "

A stream now issued from the supper room, and Mr. Vavasour, bowinghimself free from a "comfortable" looking matron, hurried up. 

"Our dance, Miss Leigh. I thought I should never be in time. She wastwenty minutes at the chicken and lobster-salad, and then went in forsweets. "

"I must go and give my girl a turn, I suppose, " whispered Bertie. "She'sguarding the outposts so no chance of giving her the slip. She'd goraging off to the Colonel. Just like him, letting one in for such a realbad thing. "

A few sleighs were beginning to jingle up, but most of the girls assumedmoccasins, clouds, and furs, and kilting their petticoats as deftly andmysteriously as only Canadians can, set out in parties, escorted by theirpartners, and stepped briskly over the moon lit snow to their respectivedwellings. 

Bertie saw his party off in their sleigh, tenderly squeezing Bluebell'shand, who fell to his share, but did not return with them. Indeed, he waswalking soon in quite an opposite direction, by the side of a shroudedfigure in a rose-coloured cloud, out of which laughed the mischievouseyes of the second Miss Tremaine. 

CHAPTER IX. 

CROSS PURPOSES. 

 Trifles, light as air, Are to the jealous confirmation strongAs proofs of holy writ. --Shakespeare. 

Bluebell had not visited her mother for three weeks. One Saturday Freddyhad a sore throat and would not let her out of his sight, keeping up anincessant demand for black-currant jelly and fairy tales, and the nextweek a heavy fall of snow made walking impossible. She now very oftenshared the gaieties of the others. Mrs. Rolleston took great interest inBluebell's career. She thought it by no means improbable that Sir Timothyshould have provided for her in his will, or, indeed, that he might anyday acknowledge her; and though she took her out, and let her dance toher heart's content, kept faithful watch to prevent any undesirableflirtation. 

So the kind-hearted lady was a good deal disturbed at seeing JackVavasour, who came of an extravagant and far from wealthy family, firstin the field. After the manner of love-lorn subalterns, he haunted andpersecuted the fair object of his affections, who cared nothing abouthim, and treated him as a child does its toys, sometimes pleased withthem, and at others casting them indifferently aside. 

And all the time Bertie was gaining greater influence over her. But evenCecil, whose eyes were keen, was never able to detect any evidence of asecret understanding between them. 

He regularly asked her for one valse only when they went to balls;indeed, he could not do less. Cecil, of course, could not hear what theytalked about _then_. 

There is a dreamy, intoxicating valse of Gung'l's, which he always madeher keep for him when it was played. It was a small piece of selfishromance, for well he knew that charmed air would ever hereafter behaunted with associations of him. How many more "stolen sweet moments" hefound in the day must be left to the reader's imagination. But stolenthey were; for Du Meresq knew Cecil's disposition, and was far fromwishing to break with her, though "why should he spare this little girlwith the chestnut hair, and the love in her deep-blue eyes?" And Bluebellno longer shrank from being underhand. It did not strike her in thatlight now. She thought of nothing but Bertie, who was so different beforethe others, that she learnt to look forward to their brief chances ofbeing alone as much as he did. And Du Meresq, with ingenious sophistry, expatiated on the charm of keeping their delicious secret to themselves, uncommented on by the cold and unsympathetic. 

Thus Bluebell, from being a lively, ingenuous, outspoken child, alteredinto a dreamy maiden, living a hidden life of repressed excitement, whosewhole interest was the fugitive, uncertain interviews with Bertie, and aninterchanged glance, touch of the hand, or few fond words, ventured onwhen the others were not attending. 

"Bluebell, " laughed Cecil, as a cutter drove to the door, "here is yourLubin again. " The girls had just returned from the Rink, and weredisrobing upstairs. 

"Oh, he is so tiresome, " said the other. "I declare I won't come down. "

"That you must; we should never get rid of him; he would sit on waitingfor you. You have made such a goose of him, Bluebell, and he used to besuch fun. "

"I shouldn't mind him if he was fun now; but he just sits glowering atone, and stays so long. Why can't a person see when he is not wanted?"

"But you do want him sometimes, " said Cecil. "You are always 'off' and'on' with poor Jack. I believe, if he proposed, you would say 'No' oneday and retract the next. "

They entered the drawing-room, where was young Vavasour, as usual, makingconversation to Mrs. Rolleston, who was at once bored and disproving. Cecil shook hands pleasantly enough, but Bluebell, not even looking athim, extended a lifeless hand in passing, and, picking up some work, appeared absorbed in counting stitches. 

Jack turned over in his own mind every possible cause of offence. Hecouldn't perceive that it was he himself that was not wanted, and thatshe cared not a button for anything he had done or left undone. 

He talked on perseveringly with the others, glancing stealthily atBluebell tatting, till Cecil got up to make tea, when he moved to a seatnearer. 

"I wasn't out of uniform till four o'clock, Miss Leigh, or I should havebeen at the Rink. "

"So I suppose. You always go there, don't you?"

"When I expect to meet any one, " trying to throw a sentimental look inhis generally laughing brown eyes. 

"It isn't usually empty: but, of course, you don't go for the skating. You'll never make anything of that. "

"Any more than you will be of driving, " retorted Jack. "Shall you everforget that crumpler down the bank? Dahlia hasn't recovered the frightyet. "

"Stupid thing; what did she jump over for? I was nearly suffocated. I amsure there must have been a cast of me on the snow. "

"It wasn't altogether unpleasant, " said Jack. "We were covered up verysnug and warm, like babes in the wood. I shouldn't mind doing it again inthe same company. "

"Shouldn't you?" said Bluebell, indignantly. "Then you may omit thecompany. " And so they went on whispering, to Mrs. Rolleston's annoyance, till the Colonel's voice was heard bringing in a visitor--a lady ofunfashionable appearance, chiefly remarkable for the variety of knittedarticles, described in work-books as "winter comforts, " displayed on herperson. 

"_Ma tante_!" ejaculated Jack, incautiously; "who is this old Quiz?"

"Here is Mrs. Leigh, " said Colonel Rolleston, "who says she has not seenher daughter for three weeks. Where are you Bluebell?"

Jack felt ready to sink into the earth, while his boyish face became thecolour of a peony; and Bluebell, vexed and hurt, advanced to the maternalembrace. 

Their mutual confusion was so evident, that the Colonel put anotherinterpretation on it, and remarked, in a tone the reverse ofcongratulatory, --"You have not been long getting out of harness, Vavasour. "

Jack muttered something, and tried to catch Bluebell's eye, agonies ofcontrition in his own. 

"Well, my dear, and how well you are looking, " said Mrs. Leigh. "But wehave missed you at home, Aunt Jane and I. No, thank you, Mrs. Rolleston;not at all tired. I caught the street-car at the corner, which broughtme all the way for five cents. Very respectable people in it; only onesoldier; he was not at all tipsy. I don't think your men ever are, Colonel. Thank you, Miss Rolleston, " as Cecil brought her some tea. "I'lljust unbutton my Sontag, or I shan't feel the good of it when I go outagain, shall I?"

"I have been thinking, " said Mrs. Rolleston, to whom it had just occurredthat this would be a good break in Jack's attentions, "that it would bevery nice if Bluebell went home for a few days, as you have seen solittle of her. "

"I'm sure I'm most grateful, " said the little lady. "There, my dear, AuntJane was saying only yesterday how dull it was without the child. But areyou sure she can be spared, Mrs. Rolleston?"

"Only to you, " said the lady, kindly, but smiling a little, for certainlyher _duties_ were not very onerous. 

Bluebell, an anxious listener, felt her heart sink at this proposal. What, go away and leave Bertie, whose daily presence had become anecessity to her! Besides, dreadful thought! his leave might be over ereshe returned. In desperation she said, imploringly, "Mamma will not wantme for more than a day or two, " and gazed anxiously at Mrs. Rolleston, with a world of unspoken entreaty in her eyes. 

The appeal was injudicious, only confirming her impression that it wasa separation from Jack Bluebell dreaded, and she mentally put on anotherweek to her banishment. 

"There's no hurry, " said the lady, decidedly; "a change will do you good. She shall walk over to-morrow, Mrs. Leigh; and I am very glad I thoughtof it. "

Bluebell, thinking all was lost, tried not to show her dismay, whichwould have grieved her mother and done no good; but she remembered, witha sinking heart, that Du Meresq was to dine out that night, and she mightget no opportunity of speaking to him alone before changing her quarters. 

"I must be off home, " said Mrs. Leigh. "Several little things to be donein your room, Bluebell. The stove-pipe has got choked at the elbow, and Imust have the sweep in. "

Her daughter longed to suggest that it might be more convenient topostpone her appearance for a day; but as Mrs. Rolleston said nothing, she could not either. 

Jack, who had been all this time writhing with vexation at his_mal-à-propos_ remark, here saw a chance of propitiating Bluebell andputting himself on visiting terms at her home. 

"My cutter is at the door, " said he, addressing Mrs. Rolleston. "If Mrs. Leigh will allow me, I shall be too happy to drive her home. "

"Oh, he must be going to propose, " thought the former lady, "and theywon't have twopence between them;" but she could only reply, --

"Well, Mrs. Leigh, what do you say? Will you trust yourself to Mr. Vavasour?"

"I'm sure, " said the little lady, flutteringly, "the gentleman is mostkind; but I am so timid with horses unless they are quite old. Does yourhorse kick, sir?"

"Only if the rein gets under her tail. "

"Ah, I should be sure to scream and snatch it--the reins, I mean, andthey say that isn't safe driving. I had better walk; and yet it isgetting dark, and I shall miss the car. What _shall_ I do, ColonelRolleston?"

"Drive, to be sure, " said he, who wanted to get rid of them both. "Vavasour only upsets when he gives the reins to young ladies, " witha glance at Bluebell. 

"Well, I _should_ like a ride in a sleigh, if my poor nerves will let meenjoy it, " toddling to the door with Colonel Rolleston. 

"I'll take the greatest care of you, Mrs. Leigh, " said Jack, heartily, grateful for a re-assuring nod from Bluebell in recognition of hiscontrite gallantry. The mare, tired of waiting, became fidgety to be off. 

"Oh, he is going to prance. Have you got good hold of his head, sir?" tothe groom. 

"Quite correct, 'm, " grinned that official. "Quiet, 'Nancy, '" that beingthe stable version of "Banshee. "

"Let her go, " said Jack, who had just tucked Mrs. Leigh in. A couple ofbounds, a smothering scream, and they disappeared in the evening gloom. 

"That there old party ain't the guvener's usual form, " meditated thatbât-man, as he walked back, for the cutter only carried two. "He seems toset a deal of store by her, though. There's some young 'ooman at home, where she lives, I'd take my dying dick. "

Cecil and her father, who had seen them off, stopped laughing togetherat Mrs. Leigh's peculiarities; and Bluebell, finding herself alone withMrs. Rolleston, felt impelled to try if she could not curtail hersentence of banishment. Of course, her words were intended to concealher thoughts--love's first lesson is always hypocrisy. 

"I know I am not very much use here, " she began, "but still I shouldn'tlike to think I was of none, and, therefore, I really don't want to stayaway more than a day or two. "

A sudden look of penetration came into Mrs. Rolleston's face, and, withmore sarcasm in her voice than Bluebell's little speech appeared tojustify, she said, --

"My dear, scrupulous child, we _can_ get on without you longer than that, so you may, with a clear conscience, think of your mother, who is dullthis dreadful weather. "

Bluebell felt caught in a mesh and incapable of extricating herself, butshe made no attempt to conceal her reluctance to going. 

"How long must I stay away?" said she, dolefully. 

"Just till the days get a little longer--a fortnight or three weeks, perhaps. "

Bluebell made a gesture of despair (Bertie would be gone to a certaintyby then), and looked the picture of misery. Mrs. Rolleston's suspicionswere now convictions. 

"My dear Bluebell, " she began, impulsively, "I know there's some reasonfor your dislike to going, " and she gazed fixedly at her. No denial. Bluebell hoped Mrs. Rolleston _had_ some inkling of how things were withher and Bertie, and had she then persisted might easily have forced herconfidence; which would have considerably enlightened and dismayed theelder lady, whose mind, being full of Jack, had never dreamed of Bertie. 

Mrs. Rolleston, however, rapidly decided it would never do to encourageher to talk of the matter, and that she had better put her foot on it atonce. 

"I have guessed your little _penchant_, dear, for some one we won't talkabout, for indeed, Bluebell, it never can come to any thing; you are bothtoo young and too poor. It would be a most undesirable connexion. "

"She doesn't think me grand enough for her brother, " suggested Bluebell'swounded pride. 

"And, therefore, " pursued her Mentor, "absence is the best thing in thesecases; and when you come back I trust you will have got rid of suchhopeless fancies. "

Bluebell was deeply mortified, --she lost all expectation of sympathy, andwith a touch of pride, said, --"You must know best, Mrs. Rolleston, but Ishall never care for any one else; and I must tell you honestly, _I_can't give it up if he doesn't. "

"You will not see him at home?" said the elder lady, hastily. Such agleam of hope irradiated Bluebell's face; she had never thought of that. 

"Dear me, this is too bad!" continued the other, quite disheartened. "Ishall take care you have no more opportunities of meeting here. Bluebell, do be warned. I only speak for your good. "

"How self-interest deceives one, " moralized the girl; "it is only becauseI am, as she says, 'a most undesirable connexion for her brother!'"

Cecil entered at this juncture, and Bluebell, hearing the Colonel's stepalso approaching, made a hasty escape from the room. 

"What is the matter with her?" asked Cecil. "She brushed by me sosuddenly, and looked so strange. "

"Nearly knocked me over, " said the Colonel, who had caught the lastwords. 

"Don't notice it; I am afraid Bluebell has lost her heart to youngVavasour; and she is miserable at going home, because she thinks she willnot see him. "

"I am delighted you have put a stop to that folly, " said the Colonel;"that boy dawdles over here every afternoon. I can't have Miss Bluebell's'followers' everlastingly caterwauling in my house. "

An expression of extreme astonishment came over Cecil's face. 

"Bluebell doesn't care _in the least_ for Jack Vavasour, " said she. 

"You are evidently not in her confidence. She told me 'she should nevercare for any one else'--her very words, the little goose. "

Cecil seemed lost in perplexity. "And she doesn't want to go home?" askedshe in a bewildered manner. 

"Crying her eyes out at this moment I dare say. "

"Then for goodness sake let her go home, and stay there till sheis better, " said the Colonel, irritably. "A love lorn young ladyperpetually before me I cannot and will not endure. "

His daughter's brow was knitted with thought. Bluebell was evidently indistress at going, but that it had any reference to Jack she totallydisbelieved. A latent suspicion revived, and her face grew pained andhard. It was near dinner time, but, instead of going up to dress, sheturned into a little smoking room to ponder it out. What motive couldBluebell have had to avow a perfectly fictitious love affair withVavasour, unless it was to throw dust in Mrs. Rolleston's eyes and blindher to, perhaps, some underhand flirtation with Bertie? Cecil'saffection for her friend received a severe wrench directly she admittedsuch a possibility, and then, as she meditated, two or three incidents, too slight to be noticed at the time, rose up to confirm it. 

"Forewarned, forearmed, if that is your game, Miss Bluebell, " thoughtshe, resolving for the future to watch narrowly. At this moment DuMeresq, whistling 'Ah, che la morte, ' burst into the room. 

"Cecil here, all in the dark? Light a candle, there's a good girl, I wantmy cigar case. I'm awfully late". 

"Who is the Leonore you are whistling _addio_ to?" said she complying. 

"I don't know, the air is running in my head. "

"I thought it might be Bluebell, she is going to-morrow. "

The match went out, so she could not see the expression of Bertie's face. 

"How do you mean?" said he quietly. 

"They think Lubin destructive to her peace of mind, so she is to go homefor a fortnight. Singular idea, isn't it. "

"Bosh!" said Du Meresq, emphatically. "Well, I'm off. Good-night, Cecil. "

CHAPTER X. 

TOBOGGINING. 

 We are in love's land to-day. Where shall we go? Love, shall we start or stay? Or sail--or row? --Swinburne. 

Bluebell thought that now Mrs. Rolleston had detected her secret, therewas no necessity to keep it from Cecil. They were in the habit of sittingawhile, talking over their bed-room fire at night; and, though, of late, they had scarcely been so intimate, the practice had not beendiscontinued. So that evening she resolved to approach the subject withCecil. No doubt she would stand her friend, and be, as ever, generous andsympathetic. 

But, at the first outset, no icicle could be brighter and colder thanMiss Rolleston's manner, who kept her communication at arm's-length, asit were, and refused to see any hardship in paying a filial visit for aweek or two. 

"My dear Bluebell, you are really too childish. One would think it was tobe an eternal separation. "

"It is evident you will not miss me much, " said poor Bluebell, wounded, and thankful she had not committed herself further. 

"I should if Bertie were not here, " answered Cecil, with heartlessintention. "But I really think this is the best time for you to be away, for I am out so much with him, I see nothing of you. When he is gone, Bluebell, and you have returned, we must begin to sing and read together, as we used to do. " This agreeable speech effectually quenched allrevelations on Bluebell's side, who, hurt and offended, took up a candleand retired to her inner apartment. 

"They are all alike, " she thought; "and Bertie understood the matterbetter than I did. Now, I suppose, they will try and prevent me everseeing him again. Girls in novels think it necessary to give up theirlovers if the family disapprove; the book always gets very dull then; butBertie has never yet given me the chance to act the high-minded heroine. "And then she fell to wondering why he had not said something reallydefinite, he seemed near it so often. And yet he was his own master; nostern father loomed in the background--_that_ Bluebell would haveconsidered a possible obstacle, --for had she not seen such maligninfluence destroy more than one promising love affair among hercompanions. Of course there was no solution to such an inscrutablemystery, though Bluebell tossed awake half the night in the effort tofind one. 

Next morning they all met at breakfast as usual. No allusion was made toher approaching departure. Afterwards, she attended to Freddy's nominallessons, packed her slender wardrobe, and then remained in her own room, for the first time unwilling to go downstairs without an invitation. Andyet she grudged every hour that passed and brought the separation nearer. She heard Bertie whistling about the house, so she would most likely seehim before starting--probably only at luncheon, though, which was thechildren's dinner. A minute before the bell rang Bluebell descended, andcame full on Du Meresq in an angle of the staircase. She stoppedinvoluntarily. He was beside her with a smothered exclamation ofendearment, and an eager hand seeking hers. Had she dreamt it? The facewas impassive, the hand dropped, and a careless voice was saying, --

"Are you really going home this afternoon, Miss Leigh?"

At the same instant she observed Cecil's upturned eyes in the hall belowthem. So she had the felicity of eating a cutlet in the presence of herlove, but received no aliment for her heart-hunger. Du Meresq was teazinghis nieces, and did not add much to the general conversation, but theothers made up for it, and, when they addressed Bluebell, did so in aparticularly cheery tone, as to a nervous, fanciful girl, not to beencouraged or noticed in her blue fits. She had thought of walking homelate in the afternoon, still hoping that something might bring about somelast words with Du Meresq, or that he might even contrive to join her onthe road; but Mrs. Rolleston, in the tone of one proposing a pleasure, said she would drive her back herself, and that the sleigh was ordered inhalf-an-hour. 

Bluebell, goaded to mild exasperation, glanced hastily to where Bertiehad been sitting, but he had left the room unperceived. 

The sleigh was at the door, so also was Captain Du Meresq, smoking anafter-luncheon cigar. I grieve to say my heroine displayed not a particleof self-respect as, pale and dejected, she seated herself by Mrs. Rolleston. Indeed, the blue eyes were beginning to swim, when they weredried by a flash of indignation at the parting words of Du Meresq. Hemerely raised his hat, without attempting to shake hands, and said, in ajesting tone, --"_Au revoir_, Miss Bluebell. I hope you will be a comfortto your mamma. "

As the jingle of the bells died away in the distance, Cecil felt a loadremoved from her heart. Bluebell had become an object of uncomfortablesurmises, and her absence was an inexpressible relief. 

She had a fair field now, and Bertie all to herself, and did not intendto spoil the present with tormenting suspicions of the past. 

"Probably he _may_ have flattered Bluebell at odd times, and turned herhead; but Bertie, though he will talk nonsense to anybody who will listento him, cares for something more than a pretty face. He will forget herdirectly she is out of sight, for there really is nothing in her. "

Thus severely did Cecil reflect on the friend she had been the means ofbringing into the house, and had loved all the more for the kindnessesshe had been able to show her. But, then, who could have foreseen thatthe _protégéé_ would turn into a rival?

Her meditations were interrupted by the chief subject of them. 

"What do you intend doing, Cecil, this afternoon?"

"It is very unsettling, people going away, " said she, serenely. Nooccasion to let him see the satisfaction it gave her. "Shall we go andskate at the Rink, presently?"

"Oh, ain't you sick of that place? Let us order your cutter, and look inon the Armstrongs' toboggining party?"

"Enchanting!" said Cecil, brightening. "But, dear me! it will be nearlyover. "

"Not if you look sharp. 'Wings' will take us there in half-an-hour; itisn't five miles to the hill. Don't forget to leave your crinolinebehind. "

Du Meresq rang the bell, and Cecil re-appeared in a few minutes, innocentof her "_sans reflectum_, " and in a clinging black velveteen suit, with agolden oriole in her cap, and a scarf of the same hue knotted about herwaist. 

"None so dusty, " said Bertie, approvingly. "You look best in daringcolours, Cecil. "

Personal praise from Du Meresq, however expressed, was not unwelcome toCecil, who was sensitively alive to her want of beauty. But she answered, carelessly, --"Just a refuge for the destitute. I can't wear pale shades, or blue or green. "

"No, my bright brunette; but that Satanic mixture does not misbecomeyou, "--and he murmured the words in "May Janet, "--

 "The first town they came to there was a blue bride chamber, He clothed her on with silk, and belted her with amber. "

"Come and help me down with the toboggin, Bertie. It is a-top of thebook-shelf, "--and they dragged down a mysterious structure of maple wood, having the appearance of a plank six feet long by two wide, and turned upat one end. It had red cord reins, and Cecil's monogram, neatly painted, on the outside. 

"We must show off our smart toboggin, I suppose; though where on earth wecan put it in the cutter I can't think, " said Du Meresq. 

"I had rather hold it on my lap than not take it. Here comes'Wings, '"--and a high-stepping American horse, bought out of a sulky, as not sufficiently justifying his name for racing purposes, dashed upto the door with the smallest and prettiest cutter in the city. The robeswere white wolf-skins, bordered with black bear. The one hanging from theback exhibited a bear's head and claws on the white ground. Both robesand bells were mounted in scarlet and white; and the masks of two owlsoccupied the place of rosettes on "Wings'" head-stall. 

"Well, " said Bertie, "we are, luckily, not in Hyde Park; and I suppose asleigh can't be too bizarre. Is this the creation of your festive fancy, Cecil?"

"Yes; I don't disown it. I sent a coloured sketch of what I wanted toGaines, and he found fur and everything. 'Wings' was bought in an auctionlast month. He went cheap, because they never could teach him the correct'racking' action. Papa advised me to have him, as he thought he wouldcarry me in the summer, and I have no other horse. "

"I'll tell you what, Cecil; we must extend our wings if we are to be intime. Canter him across the common, there's a capital track. "

"Can't he go!" said she, exultingly, as on a hard, frozen surface theysped along. "We rush through the air so silently that if it were not forthe bells one might fancy oneself flying. "

"Yes, " said Bertie; "I have known more unpleasant sensations than beingdriven ten miles an hour by a fair lady--a dark one, I should say. "

"Given the lady. I don't think you much care whom it may chance to be, Bertie. "

 "If a woman is pretty, to me it's no matter Be she blonde or brunette, so she let me look at her. "

"Were you thinking of those lines in 'Lucille'?"

"Them's your sentiments to a T, I should say. "

"And you ought to have lived in the days when the knight had 'Une seule'embroidered on his banner. I'll never believe that his loves were solimited; doubtless each appropriated the invidious distinction toherself. "

"I know one knight, " said Cecil, "who would give them plenty of reason todo so. "

"Fancy, " continued Bertie "riding in full armour to a crossroad, andchallenging every one to single combat who declined to acknowledge hisparticular fair to be queen of love and beauty, and that no one elseshould hold a candle to her! Now we should think it great impertinence ina fellow to offer his opinion about her at all. "

"No, " laughed Cecil, "such public proclamation would never suit theseinconsistent days. "

"Can you not believe yourself 'Une seule, ' Cecil, even in these days?"returned he, meaningly and tenderly. 

"That would depend on my knight, " said she, blushing, and uncertain howto take it. "I should not care to live in a Fool's Paradise. "

"If it were Paradise, why analyze the wisdom of it?" said Bertie, gazingwith surprised admiration at her radiant face, that kindled as with somehidden fire. 

"I could do without him, " answered she, "but if he were worth caring forI wouldn't share him with any one. "

"I hope Fane isn't 'Un seul, ' Cecil. For a young lady with such severeideas of constancy, you were pretty thick at the sleighing-party. "

There was something in this speech that annoyed Cecil, who turned it offwith a short answer. It might have been that she did not like him socomposedly contemplating such a possibility. 

Du Meresq said no more, perhaps because they were approaching thetoboggin hill, or perhaps, like Dr. Johnson, he had nothing ready. 

Cecil was sorry they were so near. She felt more interested in theconversation than in the party, and gazed wistfully down a by road thatwould have led them in an opposite direction. 

"I wish I dare turn sharp off, " thought she. "But, no! we areconventional beings. This idiotic performance is the goal and objectof our expedition. I am driving, and must do nothing so indecentlyeccentric. "

So she gave "Wings" a flick with her whip, that sent him up to his bitwith his knees in his mouth, and they drew rein on the edge of the snowmountain. 

Miss Tremaine's bright face was just on a level with the top, drawing upher own toboggin. 

"Here's this dear little Lily, " said Bertie. 

"Your diminutives are curiously applied, " said Cecil. "That is a verysubstantial _petite_. "

"How late you are, " cried Miss Tremaine, rushing up to them. 'Wings, ' whocouldn't bear waiting, began to rear. "Gracious, Cecil, does he feed onyeast-powder to make him 'rise' so? How do you do, Captain Du Meresq?Come along; there's some capital jumps. Here's my little brother willhang on to the horse's head till we find some one else, if you are sure'Wings' will not soar away with him, like an eagle with a lamb. "

"I'd better billet him on that farm, " said Du Meresq, driving off. 

"And I must go and speak to Mrs. Armstrong, " said Cecil. 

CHAPTER XI. 

EFFECTS OF TOBOGGINING. 

 With a slow and noiseless footstep

 Takes the vacant chair beside me, Lays her gentle hand in mine. --Longfellow. 

A little further on, by a blazing fire, was seated the hostess and abouta dozen other people on benches and rugs; a table spread withrefreshments and hot liquids attracted as many more. The grey sky andwhite ground threw out the figures solidly, the only patches of colourbeing the bright petticoats of the ladies as they flashed down or toiledup the snow mountain. 

"Have a 'cock-tail, ' Miss Rolleston?" said Captain Wilmot, of theFusiliers. "I have just made a capital one; and then may I steer you downon my toboggin?"

Cecil accepted both propositions. "But do take mine, for I have nevertried it yet. "

"What a beauty, " said Lilla, enviously. "It doesn't look over strong, though; I shouldn't wonder if it broke in two. You'll have to mind thehole at the bottom; there have been a lot in already. "

For the information of the uninitiated, I may as well describe how thishilarious amusement is conducted. Having first selected the highest hillthe neighbourhood affords, well covered with slippery frozen snow, twoindividuals who purpose forming the freight of the toboggin posethemselves, the foremost holding the reins, which, however, are more foreffect than use, sitting between the feet of the hindmost traveller, whosteers with his hands. 

As a finger on the snow alters the course of the toboggin, and a nervouspush makes it slue round, scattering the inmates, it is needless to saythe tyro in front is admonished to preserve the most absolute immobility. Then the vehicle receives a shove off the top of the hill, and shootsdown the smooth precipice, and the novice, with shut eyes to escapethe blinding snow that flies like hailstones about him, listens to thewind whistling behind, and with bated breath--the first time at anyrate--wishes it were over. 

"Captain Du Meresq, " cried Lilla, "come along; I am going to take youdown the big jump. "

"Off Niagara, if you like. "

"It _is_ a tidy drop, the first shelf, so please I'd rather steer. I never trust my neck to any one but myself. "

Bertie craned over. "Let me go down first, and see what it is like; itwill give you an awful shake. "

"Bosh! I have been down before; sit tight, " said Lilla, adjustingherself. 

It was a series of snow terraces, half natural, half artificial. Theridge they started from was very steep, and jutting out a little waydown, yawned over a perpendicular drop to the next ledge, which slopedoff again to ever recurring but lesser falls. 

Receiving the necessary impetus from above, Bertie and Lilla slithereddown at a terrific pace, and shot over the jutting ridge--a good twentyfeet drop. As they touched the ground, the toboggin ploughed up the snow, recovered without upsetting, and tore on, jumping down the lesser fallsthe same way, and continuing a considerable distance along the level atthe bottom before its impetus was exhausted. 

Bertie, blind, breathless, and half-choked with snow, heard a voicebehind, jerking in quick grasps--

"Did you e-ver feel such a de-light-ful--sensation in your life before?"

"Never, " said he with a profound air of conviction, shaking off the snowlike a Newfoundland dog. "I wonder if I could have steered as well!"

"If you are going to try, you may take some young woman who is tired ofher life, " said Lilla. 

"I'll take myself down, anyhow, " said Du Meresq, rather nettled; and, having dragged her toboggin up the hill, ran off to get another; but, inpassing Cecil, found a moment to say--

"Don't let that young lunatic delude you down the jump. It is unfit forany girl but such a glutton as Lilla. "

"I haven't the slightest wish to try, " said she, laughing. "Lilla's awitch. Just look at her now. "

Miss Tremaine, standing poised on her toboggin, was in the act of glidingdown the hill. A light pole held in one hand served as a rudder, theother retained the cord reins. 

"It is like a fairy in a pantomime let down from above, " ejaculated DuMeresq. "That is uncommonly tall toboggining!"

A slight commotion was now apparent in the valley below. A brook ranthrough it, frozen except is one place, where was a large hole. Mr. Tremaine and Captain Delamere, slithering down together, ran into arunaway toboggin that had upset its occupant. This knocked them out oftheir course, and upset them into the rotten ice of the brook. 

Mr. Tremaine was precipitated head foremost into the hole, with his heelsin the air, and Lilla at the same moment coming to a halt in heracrobatic descent, beheld the apparition of a pair of legs, feet upwards, and a coarse pair of knickerbocker stockings dragged over the boots. 

"Who has muffed in now? Gracious goodness, _I_ knit those stockings; itis the Governor! Pull him out--quick, quick, Captain Delamere; he'll havea fit!"

That individual, who had just scrambled out, was standing rather dazed, ruefully stanching the cuts on his face. Between them they soon draggedout Mr. Tremaine, half suffocated, and puffing and panting like ademented steam-engine, but by the time he had recovered his breath notmuch the worse. 

The toboggining was getting fast and furious, and several casualtiesoccurred. The toiler up the hill, too, had need of all his alertness tododge the numerous erratic cars tearing down in every direction. 

An adventurous group were tying a dozen or more toboggins together, whichthey called an omnibus; and Jack Vavasour, in the character of conductor, was holding up his hand, and cadging for passengers. 

"Any more for the Brook or Gore Vale? Room for two still in the'Lightning' 'bus! No more?--then we are off. Link arms, ladies andgentlemen;" and the unwieldy apparatus was started. The couplings dividedhalf-way down. About seven reached the bottom, the remaining five wereupset, and were left there. Cecil was in the latter division, and havingextricated herself from the _débris_, slowly ascended the hill. 

She was rather tired now, and slightly bored; and began wondering whathad become of her escort. He had not been in the coach, nor was he amongthe noisy, chattering party approaching her. 

"Has anyone seen Captain Du Meresq?" asked she. 

"Ten minutes ago he was death on the big jump, " said Jack. "He tookDelamere to start him; and I think Miss Tremaine went too. "

A shade passed over Cecil's face. "Would you ask him, Mr. Vavasour, toget the sleigh? It is quite time we were going. "

Another quarter of an hour passed, but no signs of Jack or Bertie. Cecil kept up a desultory conversation with Mrs. Anderson; but a vagueimpatience and restlessness came over her. She looked in the direction ofthe big jump, and it seemed to her a point of attraction that gathered upthe stragglers, who all converged towards it. There was quite a crowdthere now. Mrs. Anderson's platitudes became maddening. Then she observedLilla coming from the same direction, and beckoning. She sprang to meether. 

"Cecil, " cried Lilla, "don't be frightened. " Why do people always usethis agitating formula? "But the fact is poor Bertie has had an awfulcropper. Good gracious, Cecil! don't look like that! Are you going tofaint! He is not so very much hurt, --stunned a bit at first. "

"How was it?" said the other, breathing again, and pressing forward. 

"He was going down the drop. Captain Delamere was to push him off, which he did with a vengeance. He didn't mean any harm, though he don'tlike a bone in poor Bertie's body. However, the toboggin snapped in twofrom the concussion in landing. Bertie was shot out and rolled to thebottom, which would not have mattered, only he struck his head againstsome snag or stone hidden by the snow. We looked down, but he didn't seemto move, and we got frightened. I had had nearly enough jumping, but Itook Captain Delamere on my toboggin--didn't trust him to steer, I cantell you, my dear--and bumped down quite safe. Bertie was insensible, with a queer cut on his forehead; so I extracted the solitaire out ofhis shirt-collar, and Captain Delamere gave him a nip out of hispocket-pistol, and then he seemed to pull himself together and sat up. Alot of people had collected round, and Mr. Vavasour asked me to come andtell you. Oh, here he is. "

"Miss Rolleston, " said Jack, "Du Meresq is nearly all right again. But hehas twisted his ankle, and can't walk up the hill; so they are going topull him up on a toboggin. I'll go and get your sleigh. "

"Are you _sure_ it is nothing worse?" said Cecil, who could scarcelyabandon her first impression that his neck was broken. 

"Quite. There he is, to answer for himself, " as Bertie and his bearerscrested the hill. 

She walked to meet them. Du Meresq looked in pain, but cut short allenquiries. "Wrenched my foot that's all. You want to go, don't you, Cecil?"

"Oh, yes; as soon as possible. Lilla, Mrs. Armstrong is so far off, willyou make our adieux?" _Sotto voce. _ "She is a tiresome old goose; but Ileft her so abruptly just now. "

"Miss Rolleston, " whispered Jack, who had just brought up the cutter, "Ithink I'll send up the doctor from the barracks. Du Meresq did get abaddish cut on the head, and, if he doesn't stay in a day or two, itmight turn to erysipelas in this climate. "

"Pray do. Oh, Mr. Vavasour! just tell me honestly, is not thatsometimes--fatal when it gets to the head?"

Cecil's eyes, dilated with terror, betrayed her to Jack, over whosehonest face came an expression of sympathy and intelligence. 

"Of course; but we will take care of that. That's why I am sending up thedoctor, to prevent him exposing himself out of doors just yet. "

Cecil did not find the drive back so agreeable as the previous one. DuMeresq, chafing at the confinement his fast swelling foot would probablyentail, and provoked at coming to grief after Lilla's taunt was inremarkably bad humour. 

Cecil saw the state of the case, and drove on fast, philosophicallyallowing him to grumble and growl without much concerning herself; butit was almost dark before they drew up at "The Maples. "

In the meantime, Colonel Rolleston, having heard from Miss Prosody thathis daughter and Du Meresq had gone off to a toboggining party, chose tobe highly scandalized, and poured into the placid ear of his wife atorrent of disapprobation. 

In vain did Mrs. Rolleston represent that they were out sleighing andskating together most days without his objecting. 

"This was quite different--this was a public party--people would say theywere engaged. He never had seen the good of their being so inseparable, but of course, his opinion on the subject had never been considered, "etc. , --which last remark was rather uncalled for, as few heads offamilies have their womankind in better order than Colonel Rolleston. 

A straw will show which way the wind blows. His wife listened with someuneasiness, for she had always hoped the Colonel tacitly approved theattachment between their respective relatives, which to her appeared soevident. She could only trust this was but a pettish effusion from theirprolonged absence, and determined to guard against such causes of offencefor the future. 

But still they did not come. It was dark--it was dinner-time--it reallywas too bad. At last a faint tinkle of sleigh-bells was followed by aslight commotion in the hall. The servant was assisting Bertie into thesmoking-room, for he elected to lie on the sofa there, and thus avoid theworry of questions and alarms. 

Colonel Rolleston was too grand and angry to evince any curiosity bycoming out, and Mrs. Rolleston, after receiving a hasty explanation fromCecil, sent her back to the drawing-room, and took charge of her brother, who was having his boot cut off, and in considerable pain. 

There was not much resemblance in character or sympathy between thebrothers-in-law; but they had hitherto avoided clashing. Now, however, the Colonel's outraged feelings of propriety wound him up to thedetermination of administering a solemn rebuke to Du Meresq, and he stoodon that coign of advantage, the hearthrug, waiting to deliver it. 

Cecil came in for the first tide of wrath, somewhat to her surprise; but, dreading her companionship with Bertie being prohibited, exertedconsiderable tact to smooth her father down, and especially made light ofthe accident, which she perceived was an aggravation of the offence. 

"Not content with making my daughter conspicuous, he hadn't even thesense to keep out of scrapes himself, " etc. 

Mrs. Rolleston glanced interrogatively at Cecil as they met on thestairs. I don't know what answer her countenance conveyed, but they madesimultaneously the same suggestion, --"Let us get Miss Prosody to dinedown. " They both knew that without the addition of an unoffending thirdthe subject would be harped on all the evening. 

Mrs. Rolleston was an excellent housekeeper; and the well-served repast, aided by the judicious conversation of the ladies, exercised a mostsoothing influence on the Colonel, who was rapidly attaining thatharmless frame of mind in which, as the saying goes, "a child might playwith him. "

But a sudden ring at the door-bell, followed by the announcement of thesurgeon of the regiment, brought on a relapse. What man does not hatebeing interrupted at dinner? And the doctor's report was sufficientlyvague to re-kindle Cecil's fears, and create uncomfortable misgivings inthe mind of her step-mother. 

Du Meresq, he said, was suffering intense pain in the head, and a smallbone in the ankle was broken, which he had set; but he could not becertain there was no internal injury, etc. 

Mrs. Rolleston hastened away to Bertie, and did not return; and poorCecil, not daring to show her anxiety, remained to entertain her father, or rather to listen to his irritable remarks on this unlucky expeditionfor the rest of the evening. 

Never was there a more fractious patient than Du Meresq as he laylistlessly on the sofa, while the bone reunited. He had speculated onmany a stolen walk with Bluebell in that unfrequented wood, where theywould be far less liable to interruption than at "The Maples. " He thoughtof his cavalier parting with her, --a bracing tonic, --necessitated by theself-betrayal of her dejected air, but which he expected to haveexplained away in a most agreeable manner before now. It would never doto write from this house. What a shame it was sending her away--for amistake, too, for they had got the saddle on the wrong horse. "Still, " hethought, "it is a bore when girls take things _au grand serieux_. LillaTremaine is quite different, as jolly as possible, but never expectsimpossibilities. Now Cecil and Bluebell are never satisfied without one'sswearing one cares for nobody else. At least, Cecil isn't, though I don'tthink I ever quite said that to her yet. It doesn't matter tellingBluebell so, and she looks so pleased, and believes every word of it. Iwould marry that child if I could afford it. " And then visions of debt, ever pressing, harassed his mind. "Well, it could not last much longer;there would be something left out of the fire when he sold out, and hecould try Australia, or the Gold Coast, or--he didn't care what. "

But such subjects were not exhilarating, lying alone in the smoking-room, and at last he rang a hand-bell, and told the servant to ask MissRolleston to come and sit with him. 

Cecil complied at once, but brought with her a colour-box andsketch-book. Drawing was her great occupation, and she was now fillingin from memory a sketch of the toboggining party. 

"You never come near me, Cecil, unless I send for you!" said Du Meresq, complainingly. 

"Poor Bertie! are you very much bored?" said she, without looking up fromher painting. 

"Horribly; and my thoughts and occupations are none of the pleasantest. "

"Those horrid duns again, " glancing at some blue looking envelopes lyingnear. "But you haven't opened one of them. "

"Never do, nor answer them either. They keep up a pretty closecorrespondence considering it is one-sided. "

"Bertie, " said Cecil, drawing on diligently, "Can't something be done?You never seem to look into your affairs. Perhaps they wouldn't be so badif you did. I shall be of age in August, and, " colouring slightly, "Iwill lend you as much as you want. You can give me an I. O. U. For theamount, " continued she, rather proud of her knowledge of business. 

"You dear, romantic girl" (Cecil was chilled in a moment), "how could Itake your money? I shouldn't have a chance of repaying it. No, I shalllast as long as I can, and then try the Colonies. It is only my rascallyself, after all, to think of. Thank goodness, I don't draw any delicate, fragile life after me into privation and discomfort. "

Cecil bent more closely over her drawing. 

"What are you doing?" said Bertie, impatiently. "I can't see your face. Come and sit by me, Cecil. I like a 'gentle hand in mine. '"

Cecil moved as if in a dream, and sat in a low chair near his couch. 

"You have always been so kind and true to me, " stroking her haircaressingly. 

A slight movement of the handle of the door made them involuntarilyseparate, and Mrs. Rolleston entered. 

"Cecil, your father is looking for you. He wants you to drive with him, and call on the Learmonths. "

"What an infernal bore!" said Du Meresq, energetically; "and I must liein this confounded room, with nothing to do the whole afternoon. Can'tyou get out of it, Cecil?"

"No, no!" said Mrs. Rolleston, hastily meeting her daughter's eye. Therewas unspoken sympathy between them. Her half eager look of inquiry passedinto intelligent acquiescence, and, with a regretful glance at Bertie, she left the room. 

The next day and the one after the Colonel required his daughter'scompanionship; the third day, they all went out in the afternoon, as DuMeresq seemed better, and said he had letters to write. No sooner, however, was the house quiet and deserted, than he rang the bell, andsent for a sleigh, hobbling out with the assistance of a stick and theservant's arm. For the information of that lingering and curiousfunctionary, he ordered the driver to go to the Club, which address, however, was altered after proceeding a short distance. 

CHAPTER XII. 

THE LAKE SHORE ROAD. 

 But all that I care for, And all that I know, Is that, without wherefore, I worship thee so. --Lord Lytton. 

"I suppose, Bluebell, you keep all your fine spirits for company?" saidMiss Opie, tauntingly; and, indeed, she had some reason to be aggrieved. Few things are more trying than living with a person in the persistentenjoyment of the blues; and the old, saddened by failing health and thememory of heavy sorrows, are apt to look upon gloom in youth asentrenching on their own prescriptive rights. 

Bluebell was always now taking long, aimless walks, bringing home neithernews nor gossip, and then sitting silent, absorbed in her own thoughts, or else feverishly expectant; while each evening she sank into deeperdespondency after the day's disappointment. 

"Spirits can't be made to order, " answered she, shortly. "I have gotnothing to talk about. "

"I am afraid you are ill, my dear, " said Mrs. Leigh; "outgrowing yourstrength, perhaps. You are such a great girl, Bluebell--so different tome; and you scarcely touched the baked mutton at dinner, which was alittle frozen and red yesterday, but so nice to-day. "

Bluebell shivered. She was not at a very critical age, but the culinarytriumphs of the "general servant" made her practice a good deal ofenforced abstinence since she had been accustomed to properly preparedcookery at "The Maples. "

"People who do nothing all day can't expect to be hungry, " said MissOpie, sententiously. "If a man will not work neither may he eat. "

"Then it is all right, " retorted Bluebell, "as it seems I do neither. "

"Not work!" cried Mrs. Leigh. "Why she has earned already more than Iever did in my life, and brought me ten dollars to get a dress with, onlyI shan't, for I shall keep it for her. I must say, Aunt Jane, you arealways blaming the child; and, if her mother is satisfied, I think youmay be. "

Aunt Jane was silenced, but she wondered what Bluebell could do that hershortsighted mother would not be satisfied with. Meantime the object ofthe discussion had escaped from the room. She had no wish to spend theafternoon in the dim parlour, stuffy with stove heat and the lingeringaroma of baked mutton; and a fancy had occurred to her to wander throughthe wood she had last traversed with the sole occupant of herill-regulated mind. 

Trove, now a well-to-do and unabashed dog, rolled and kicked on his backin puppy-like ecstacy as he watched her dress, and officiously broughther her muff, which, however, he objected to resigning. Trove wasBluebell's confidant and the repository of her woes, and perhaps as safea one as young ladies generally choose. 

Not a sign of the Rollestons had she seen since her arrival at thecottage ten days ago. Bluebell thought she could not have been more cutoff from them if she had crossed the Atlantic instead of the Common. Going to the Rink would have too much the appearance of seeking DuMeresq, so she rigorously avoided that; but even in King Street, whereCecil's cutter flashed most days, she never caught sight of "Wings'"owl-decorated head. 

There was a great deal of her father's disposition in Bluebell, and shechafed at the monotony of days so grey and eventless, and longed for sheknew not what; so that it was life, movement, _pain_ even, to exhaustthose new springs of thought and feeling that the awakening touch of afirst love had called forth, and would not now be laid. 

Bluebell, like most Canadians, had had plenty of early admiration fromhobbledehoys, who made honest, though ungainly, love to her; but herheart would as soon have been touched by an amorous Orson as by theseyouthful tyros in the art. Du Meresq had that deceptive countenanceapparently created for the shipwreck of female hearts. Sometimes mencalled him an ugly fellow, but no woman ever thought so. There wasexpression enough in those luminous eyes to have set up three beauty men. They could look both demoniacal and seraphic, --tender often, but scarcelyever true; add to this a magnificent _physique_, a soft manner, a winningvoice, and, what gave him an almost superstitious interest to women, that_fey_ look attributed to the Stewarts. He had read and studied hard byfits and starts, for whatever possessed his mind he always pursued withardour, and to Cecil was fond of inveighing against his useless, unsatisfying life. In spite of her infatuation, though, she judged himmore truly than most people, and perceived that his fitful remorse waschiefly occasioned by pressure of money matters, and seldom lasted overpecuniary relief. 

In the most secret flights of her imagination, she pictured herself insome new country with Bertie. An adventurous, reckless nature such ashis, she thought, turned every gift to evil in the commonplace lifewhere his idiosyncrasy had no play; but detached from his idle mess-roomhabits, and launched into a new career, when to live at all involvedexertion of mind and body, would metamorphosize her hero into all shecould wish. 

Such was the ideal, in her conventual bringing up, of the rich and wellplaced Cecil; while Bluebell, to whom luxury was unknown, longed forwealth to take her into a sphere where taste was not starved by economy, nor all her horizon bounded by weekly bills. But in both cases their aircastles were to be occupied with Du Meresq. 

The girl and the dog sped along on their desolate walk--it was too coldto linger. Bluebell carefully followed the route she had taken withBertie, that memory might be added by association. 

"Ah, Trove, " said she to the dog, who bounced up against her, "I am asmuch a waif and stray as you are--disowned by my grandfather, who mighthave made us rich, and taken up by people one day and forgotten the next;but you have drifted into harbour now, my dog, and who knows--"

A smothered growl interrupted this monologue, and then a sharp bark. Bluebell looked round to see what was exciting him; she heard a distanttinkle of bells, and listened keenly; laughing voices were apparentlyapproaching. From an impulse that she could not have explained, Bluebelldarted into an empty woodshed, dragging Trove in after her, and holdinghim firmly by the muzzle to stifle his growling. Through an aperture inthe boards she could observe, unseen herself. 

The sounds grew louder, and a score of sleighs defiled past herhiding-place. Bluebell scanned each carefully. There were the usualmembers of the Sleigh Club. She recognized the Tremaines, and severalothers of her little world. Jack in his tandem; but, faithful Lubin! no"cloud-capped" Muffin sat by his side; his companion was of the sternersex, or, as he would have described him, "a dog. " But where were theRollestons? No representative of "The Maples" was present, not even DuMeresq. They had flashed past within a minute; but, like a fresh breezeover still water, the little incident had awakened and roused up Bluebellfrom her lethargy. 

Her thoughts became more lively as she speculated why Bertie and Cecilwere absent from the sleighing party. It was some consolation, at anyrate, not to see him enjoying himself quite as much without her. The sunwas setting redly as she neared the cottage, and a young moon gainingbrightness. Bluebell, remembering a childish superstition, paused towish. The passage was dark as she entered, and her mother's tones, talking with great volubility, struck her ear. "Mamma has her companyvoice on, " thought she, which, being interpreted, meant an increase ofnervousness and consequent garrulity. 

She opened the door, and her heart gave a sudden leap as she became awareof, rather than saw in the dusk, the tall, broad-shouldered form of DuMeresq. Bluebell came stiffly forward, and offered a cold hand, utterlybelying her heart, to Bertie, who bent over it as if sorely tempted, inspite of Mrs. Leigh's presence, to carry it to his lips. But she withdrewit abruptly, and sat down, seized with more overpowering shyness than shehad ever experienced. 

Miss Opie's keen, attentive eyes were taking in the situation. 

"Captain Du Meresq has been kind enough to call, " said Mrs. Leigh, "tosay there is no immediate hurry for your return, my dear. "

Bluebell raised disappointed, questioning eyes; but something in his faceconveyed to her that the message was coined as an excuse for hisappearance. 

"I hope Cecil is well?" said she, trying to speak unconcernedly; "but Isaw she was not out with the Club to-day. "

"I think she is tired of it. Where did you fall in with them?" asked he. 

"In the Humber, " very consciously. 

"Were you there?" asked Bertie, with a tender inflection in his voice, that Bluebell knew well. But she would not look up, and Miss Opie did, sohe proceeded carelessly, --"I suppose they were coming from the Lake ShoreRoad, up the serpentine drive in the wood?"

"Oh! that is such a pretty walk in summer!" said Mrs. Leigh. 

"I dare say, " said Bertie, looking straight down his nose. "I went roundthat way once, and even in winter found it the pleasantest walk I evertook in my life. "

"Ah, then, " said Mrs. Leigh, knowingly, "I dare say some pretty younglady was with you. "

"No such happiness, " said Bertie, with an imperceptible glance atBluebell. "The fact is, Mrs. Leigh, women detest me! I suppose it is mydeep respect, making me so fearful of offending, that bores them; but Ifear I am a social failure. "

"In my day, " said Miss Opie, ironically, "young ladies _expected_ to betreated with respect. "

"And that could not have been so long ago; yet now they are beyond abashful man's comprehension, " said Bertie, with an air of simplicity, slightly scanning Miss Opie's wakeful face. He had got on so well withthe mamma, who was this old maid, who appeared so objectionably on thealert?

"Well, I am sure, " said Mrs. Leigh, "some girls here _are_ that pert andforward, I can't bear it myself; and yet the gentlemen all encourage it, and think it real smart. Lilla Tremaine, you know, Aunt Jane. "

"Ah!" said Bertie, shaking his head, "a very unsteady young person. "

While Du Meresq was making conversation, Bluebell sat incapable ofcontributing to it. She would not have believed that his presence shouldafford her so little pleasure; but he seemed incongruous here, and wasapparently amusing himself with the simplicity of her relatives. Aclatter of tea-things filled her mind with dismay. The ideas of the"help" on the subject of cleanliness were in a very rudimentary stage, and that the cloth would be in anything but its first freshness, was amoral certainty. Impossible, however, to avert the catastrophe, and thegeneral servant, actuated by a determination to get another look at MissBluebell's "young man, " undauntedly bore in the tray. 

"Dear me, is it not rather early?" said Mrs. Leigh. "Oh, Captain DuMeresq, "--seeing him rise, --"you must stay and have a cup with us. "

"Another day, if you will allow me, " said Bertie, trying to disguisehis extreme lameness. "I hope, having found my way here, I may bepermitted to call again in this sociable manner, and have a littleagreeable conversation, so preferable to gaiety, which I abhor. "

"If you will take us as you find us, " said the little lady, graciously, "we shall look upon it as a great favour, I am sure. Dear me, Captain DuMeresq, have you hit your foot? You seem quite lame. "

"I am, rather. I had an accident. Is there not some shorter way back thanthe road I came?"

"Oh, yes, by Barker's Row. You know the Link House?"

"No--a, " said Bertie, looking expressively at Bluebell, as a hint thatshe might offer to point out the road. 

"Oh, surely you _must_; keep straight on King Street, and then you cometo--"

"Wolfe Street?" suggested Du Meresq. 

"Gracious, no! that would be quite out of your way! Go to--I'll tell youwhat, Bluebell shall show you where you turn off--it isn't ten minutesfrom here. "

Bertie murmured a profusion of thanks, and, distrustful of Miss Opie, protested against being so troublesome. But Bluebell, scarce able tobelieve in such luck, sprang up with a sudden illumination ofcountenance, and the next minute the lovers were alone under the lightof the moon. 

"Bluebell, " said Du Meresq, "I have got a sleigh here. I thought I_might_ get you out of it if I pretended I was walking, and didn't knowthe way; but the fact is, my child, I can hardly limp a hundred yards. Come a little drive with me. "

"Oh! I dare not. It is so late, and they expect me back again directly. "

"Then you are going to run away the first moment we have been alone forso long!"

"Whose fault is that, " said she, reproachfully. 

"Not mine. I have been laid up ten days with a broken ankle. But Isuppose you have been seeing Jack Vavasour every day, and forgotten allabout me?"

"Bertie, " said Bluebell, hesitatingly, "did they say anything to youabout--"

"About Jack? Yes, they said he was spoons on you. And also, MissBluebell, that you were awfully in love with him. "

"No, no, nonsense, " said she, blushing. "I meant about yourself. "

"They know nothing of that?" said he, inquiringly. 

"They do, though. I don't know what you will say, Bertie, but I told Mrs. Rolleston. "

"What can you mean, Bluebell? Bella told me that you cared for nobody butJack Vavasour; and I was deuced angry, I can tell you; at first, though Ithought it uncommon 'cute of you saying so. "

Bluebell, utterly confounded by this extraordinary assertion, had no timeto reply, for she found herself close to a covered sleigh, and the manhad got down and opened the door. She drew back. 

"Jump in, " said Bertie, impatiently. 

Bluebell shook her head. 

"What do you propose?" said he, in an angry whisper. "We can't sit out inthe snow, and I can't walk another yard. "

She hesitated, and he gently impelled her into the vehicle, followinghimself, to the anguish of his injured foot, that he had struck in hishaste. 

"Where to, sir?" said the man, whom Bertie, in his momentary pain, hadforgotten. 

"Go to the Don Bridge. "

"Can't, sir. I am ordered at the College by six o'clock. "

"Drive to the devil, then. I mean, drive about as long as you can. I likedriving. "

"Hush, Bertie! how can you? What will he think?"

"How much 'old rye' he will get out of the job. Come, Bluebell; the houris ours, don't spoil it fidgetting about trivialities. I have scarcelydared to look at you yet, my beautiful pet, " trying to steal an arm roundher waist. But she drew herself away, irresponsive and rigid, beinguneasy and frightened at the escapade she had been led into. 

"You haven't a spark of moral courage, Bluebell, " said Bertie, impatiently. "You are as prim and unlike yourself as possible, justbecause you are wondering what that man on the box will think. Or, perhaps, you are afraid of that thin, sour old duenna at home. "

"She will be inquisitive enough, " said Bluebell, resignedly. "And, Bertie, I wanted to tell you, but, perhaps, you know, that they willnever have me again at the 'Maples' while you are there, --Mrs. Rollestonso utterly disapproves of it. "

"What _is_ this hallucination that you have got hold of?" said Du Meresq. "What did you tell, or fancy you told, Bella?"

"We got on the subject. Your name wasn't actually mentioned; but shequite understood, and said something, " said Bluebell, reddening as shefelt the awkwardness of her words, "very strong against it. "

Bertie looked relieved. He began to understand the mistake, which heconsidered a fortunate one. 

"And did you promise to give me up?"

She turned her large, innocent eyes upon him. "How could I, when I caremore for you than anything in the world?"

"My poor little Bluebell!" said Du Meresq, crushing her in his arms. Butthe sleigh stopped; the man was getting down. 

"My time is up, sir. "

"Well, drive to where you took us up, " said Bertie. "Bluebell, tell mequick, where shall I see you again?"

"I can't risk driving, " said she, hurriedly. "When will you be able towalk?"

"Can't I see you alone at home sometimes? When are your people likely tobe out?"

"They don't go out for days together, except on Sunday, to church; andAunt Jane would suspect something directly if I didn't go with them. "

"Let her, meddling old idiot! I shall come then, Bluebell. "

"No, no, Bertie; pray don't! Could you walk in a week?"

"What an eternity! Well, meet me in the Avenue in the Queen's Park, atthree o'clock on Wednesday. Here's this brute getting down again. Onlyjust time to kiss those dear blue eyes. _Addio_ Leonore. How the deuceam I to get home, I wonder?"

"Bertie, you'll never be able to walk. "

"Never mind me. Run back, my dearest, and throw dust in the eyes of thatmisguided old female, who presumes to open them on what doesn't concernher. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

NORTHERN LIGHTS. 

 Do you remember Those evenings in the bleak December, Curtained warm from the snowy weather, When you and I played chess together, Checkmated by each other's eyes? --The Wanderer. 

Bluebell sped home, and, to evade remarks, hung up her hat in thepassage, as the least embarrassing way of reporting herself, thenremained, perdu, in her own room, transfigured into fairy-land by herhappy thoughts. Bertie was acquitted of intentional neglect. It was onlythe malignity of Fate that had divided them; and there was the positiveanticipation of meeting again in six days. To be sure, it involvedentering on a course of deceit. Aunt Jane would, probably, be shocked, asshe was at everything; mamma would not think much of it; and as for Mrs. Rolleston, she need not consider her wishes, after telling Bertie such abare-faced fib about Jack Vavasour, evidently in the hope of makingmischief between them. She was very much astonished at such unscrupulousconduct in her friend, but what other conclusion could she come to?

To be sure, common-sense whispered that looks and language such as DuMeresq had permitted himself, ought to be followed by an offer ofmarriage; but with common-sense Bluebell had little to do at this period, and first love cares not to concern itself with the prosaic. The mysteryand romance of interviews with her love, "undreamt-of by the world in itsprimness, " appeared far more enchanting than any authorized attachmentprovided with a regulation gooseberry picker. 

So she came down with a slightly defiant air; but meeting with nothingworse than a gravely knowing glance from Miss Opie, sat down to the pianoto escape questioning. 

Mrs. Leigh's thoughts were complacently occupied with the visitor. Sheonly wanted further confirmation to place him in the light of a futureson-in-law. Adversity had not given her the wisdom of the serpent, andshe never dreamed of possible danger in the attentions of this unknownyoung man to her beautiful, but portionless, child. 

However, her mind became unsettled again by the appearance of anothersuitor, in dog-skin gloves of a brilliant tan, and his usual air ofcheerful confidence. No guile was there in Jack Vavasour, whose prostrateadoration of her daughter was so undisguised, that she mentally deposedBertie (whose devotion was more problematical) in his favour. Still shethought, "I should never think of influencing dear Bluebell one way orthe other, and we shall see which proposes first. "

Jack's visit, as usual, was a lengthy one. His fair enslaver hadrecovered her spirits, and no longer metaphorically turned her face tothe wall. She was glad of distraction, and not ungratified by hisallegiance, though without the slightest idea of returning it. 

Like the boys and the frogs, she did not consider that what was sport tothe one was hard on the other, and probably would not have cared if ithad struck her; for, whatever poets may say, there is no more thoroughlyheartless age than sweet seventeen. When he sat on till the arrival ofthe unappetizing meal they called a meat-tea, Bluebell did not wince ather mother inviting him to join it, simply because his opinion was amatter of indifference to her, though she carelessly recommended him notto be late for mess. 

Jack, however, with magnanimous disregard of that usually importantperiod of his day, stayed his healthy young appetite with the cold jointfrom dinner; and he and Bluebell amused themselves frying eggs androasting chestnuts, which further assuaged its keen demands. 

Many times during the evening did Mrs. Leigh leave the room, on theprinciple that young people like to be alone together. But all hertactics failed to uproot Miss Opie, who clung to her book and her seatby the fire, partly from the contrary conviction that young personsshould _never_ be alone together, and partly because, save in thekitchen, there was no other fire in the house. 

"What shall we do?" cried Bluebell, with the faintest of yawns, tiredof consuming their culinary labours. "You don't care for music, I know. There's an old chess-board somewhere; and I can't think of anything butcat's-cradle, if you don't like that. "

"I can play, " said Jack, stoutly, who had not attempted it since hischildhood, but only wanted an excuse to remain on. So they sat down atthe spidery table, saying little; Jack quite well entertained with hishand frequently coming in contact with Bluebell's on the board. He wouldhave liked to crush up that little member in his own, and meditated thebold _coup_ more than once, but was always discouraged by that far away, unconscious look in her eyes. 

In this squalid parlour, where she was the only soft-hued thing in theroom, he thought her more beautiful than ever. Perhaps she was, for thelove-light burned steadily in her Irish eyes, and he could not tell itwas not for him. 

Never were more lenient or careless adversaries. Twice Jack's queen wasin Bluebell's grasp uncaptured, and he could at any time have checkmatedher, had he been as attentive to the variations of the game as to thoseof her countenance. Suddenly Bluebell swept her hand over the board, crying, --"I never saw such men, they don't fight. We have been playinghalf-an-hour, and have hardly taken any prisoners. "

"It is a slow game, " said Jack, equably; "let us try cat's-cradle. Or, perhaps, " he continued, meeting with no response, "I ought to be sayinggood-night. "

Bluebell was secretly tired of him, and could not conceive on whatprinciple her mother began pressing him to stay. 

"There's the nicest bit of toasted cheese coming up for supper, " saidshe. "I know all officers like a Welsh rabbit. My poor late husband did, though he used to say, in his funny way, he only ate it because there wasnothing else fit to touch. "

"I fear I must go; but I hope you'll ask me to tea again, Mrs. Leigh, it is so jolly getting away from mess sometimes, " said the youngdiplomatist. 

"That I will, " said she, highly flattered, "and I shall be very muchoffended if you don't come. I am only sorry you can't sit a little longernow. "

Jack was not quite sure he couldn't, but Bluebell, pretending not to seehis hesitation, held out her hand and said "good-night, " so he hadnothing for it but to go. In two minutes, though, his head re-appeared. "Come and look at the Northern Lights, Miss Leigh; regular tip-topfireworks. Here's a shawl; make haste. " But when she come out, only a fewweak-coloured pink clouds were floating about. 

"Is that all?" ejaculated Bluebell. 

"Not quite, " said Jack; "it was a western light I was trying to invoke, or, rather, the light of my eyes. When may I come and see you, Bluebell?"

"I came out to look at meteors, " said she, laughing at his unwontedflowers of speech; "and I don't know who gave you leave to call me bymy Christian name. "

"It isn't your Christian, " urged Jack. 

"It will be my _nom de guerre_, then, if you say it again. "

"Change it if you like, " quoth he, "if you will let me change yoursurname too. "

A startled stare of blue eyes, a smothered laugh, and Bluebell had dartedinto the house, clapping the door after her. 

"Confound it, " thought Jack, "just my luck. In another moment I shouldhave kissed her--I _think_ I should; but, hang it, when a girl looks youstraight in the face and talks to you as if you were her grandmother, itputs one off. Well, I have kissed lots of girls without proposing and nowit's _vice versa_, for it was as good as an offer, and all I got by itwas her nipping in just when I thought I had her to myself. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE TRYST. 

 Twas full of love--to rhyme with dove, And all that tender sort of thing, Of sweet and meet--and heart and dart, But not a word about a ring! --Hood. 

Time flew much lighter with our heroine as she counted the days tothe next rendezvous with Du Meresq; anticipation is ever sweeter thanreality. The cottage was no longer dull, nor existence empty, even theunrenewed and diminishing snow, dusky as a goose in a manufacturing town, was the symptoms of approaching spring and verdure. Who need think of thetorrents of rain which must precede it? The little episode with Jackoutside the door afforded her secret entertainment, and although shedid not look upon it as a _bona-fide_ proposal, that did not bias herintention of relating the anecdote for Bertie's delectation. It might bejust as well to let him see if he couldn't speak out, others could, andif he were jealous, why so much the better. 

Clouds were chasing each other in the sky, and the increased mildnessof the atmosphere inspired Bluebell with the dread that rain wasapproaching, for a rendezvous under dripping umbrellas, if feasible, was not the most desirable _pose_ for a romantic interview. 

However, the morning rose clear and sunny, the snow was thawing, and inmany places the runners of the sleighs grated on bare ground. 

Bluebell was exultant. The elements evidently didn't mean to oppose her, but she was somewhat disconcerted at dinner by Miss Opie's remarks on herSunday dress, which, being of a becoming hue, she had rashly donned. 

"Are you going visiting, Bluebell, that you are so smart?"

"Oh, dear no; only for a walk. "

"How foolish to draggle that mazarin blue poplinette in sloppy snow! Oncelet it get any snow stains on, and it will look quite shabby on brightspring days. "

"It's no use having things, if one doesn't wear them, " returned the girl, evasively. But when she came down ten minutes later equipped for herwalk, she encountered Miss Opie again in full marching order. 

"My, dear, as you are dressed so nicely, I dare say you are going 'onKing, ' and so am I; so we can walk together. "

Consternation in Bluebell's face--it was only a quarter to three. 

"I am going quite in the opposite direction, " cried she, hurriedly, and, without waiting to see the effect of her words, abruptly fled. 

"Just Canadian independence, " muttered Miss Opie; "It makes all the girlssuch thoroughly bad style. "

Bluebell began to feel very nervous; two or three young friends that shemet on the way, she passed with a quick nod and averted face, dreadingtheir joining her. Her eye swept the broad walk of the Avenue in aninstant; no familiar figure arrested her vision, and the seats placed atregular intervals on each side were also vacant of interest. 

So she was first--the Cathedral clock had struck three some minutesbefore, she was perplexed to know what to do with herself, and beganwalking slowly to the other end. Of all possible _contretemps_, thenon-appearance of Du Meresq had never suggested itself; but after acouple of turns the unwelcome misgiving strengthened, and there wouldbe only one at the tryst that day. 

In a tumult of disappointment and indignation, conjecture afterconjecture chased each other; while ever and anon her fancy was mockedby some one turning in at the gates bearing a general resemblance to DuMeresq, only to be dispelled by a nearer and more accurate view. 

A simple explanation suddenly dawned; Bertie might have written to warnher of an unavoidable absence. The possibility of such a letter, which, had she had received it in the morning, would have been the bitterestdisappointment, now seemed a resurrection from despair to hope, and withrelaxed features and brightening eyes, Bluebell walked rapidly throughthe gates to the Post-office. 

Letters were so rare and unlooked for at the cottage, that the postmannever included it in his rounds; and the contents of the pigeon-holeappropriated to them at the office was seldom inquired for, except onmail-days, when there might be an off-chance of an English letter forMiss Opie. Even Bluebell, who for the first fortnight after herbanishment from "The Maples" had been a regular applicant, had not beennear it since Bertie's visit to the cottage. 

"Two letters for Miss Theodora Leigh. " One she scarcely looked at; theother instinct told her must be Bertie's handwriting; it had been lyingtwo days at the Post-office. 

 "My dearest Bluebell, " ran this note, "I can't come to the Avenue on Wednesday, being now entirely confined to the sofa with my ankle, which has gone to the bad. I am only staying on now with sick leave, and the Chief very sulky at that. When shall I again see those beloved, angel-like, soft blue eyes? Don't write to me here, for, as you may remember, the orderly fetches the letters, and my august brother-in-law sometimes deals them round. 

 "Your ever devotedly attached, "A. Du M. "

Poor Bluebell, as she read these few and rather cavalier lines, felt forthe moment as if she had never suffered till now; his hinted atdeparture, and apparent resignation to absence from her, was a severeshock, and, in the first hot feeling of grief, the scales fell from hereyes, and she began to see Bertie as he was, but she could not yet endurethe light of reason, so resumed her voluntary blindness, and re-read theletter, and though very little of it could satisfy her expectations, shedwelt more on the few words that did. After a while, she remembered theother letter, and found, with awakening interest, it was from Mrs. Rolleston. This was written in a pleasant chit-chat style, giving anaccount of their every-day life since she left, and not at all avoidingBertie's name, the tedious effect of his toboggining accident beingone of the chief incidents mentioned. It wound up with saying that theyexpected her back as soon as she liked. 

Bluebell felt rather mystified at the tone of this epistle; but was muchcomforted by the thought that the ban was removed, and she might go to"The Maples" and judge for herself. This was dated prior to the otherletter, but Bertie appeared to have been ignorant of it. 

The following day, our heroine, in a hired sleigh, was jingling back to"The Maples, " and curiosity and interest all centred on one question--"Ishe there still?"

As she passed through the hall, her eye glanced searchingly round on thechance of seeing some familiar property of Bertie's. There was only apair of his moccasins; but they might so easily have been left behind asuseless, now the snow was evaporating. 

Mrs. Rolleston and Cecil received her very cordially, but, knowing theirsentiments, that was rather an unfavourable omen, and Freddy and Lola, who had come down to see her, kept up such an incessant chatter, thatthere seemed no chance of obtaining the information she dreaded. 

At last, in a momentary pause, she faltered out a leading remark insuch a low voice that no one attended to it. A minute later, she triedagain, --"I hope Captain Du Meresq is better. "

"How red you have got, 'Boobell!'" said Freddy. "Look, mamma!"

"What did you say, my dear--Bertie? Oh, yes, he is very lame still; buthe was obliged to go yesterday. "

The sudden colour left Bluebell's cheek, and she sat for some minutes ina relaxed, drooping attitude, oblivious of all around, till becomingsensible of Cecil's gaze rivetted on her. It was a cold satiricalexpression, at the same time inquiring. Bluebell was very unhappy; butthis roused her, and, raising her head, she looked her enemy steadily inthe eyes, with a bitter smile. 

She never, strange to say, suspected Cecil of being a rival, merelysupposing she was carrying on the family politics; and wounded by herofficiously hostile demeanour, as she considered it, resolved no trace ofher sufferings should ever be witnessed by this cold friend. 

And thus it happened that the topic was jealously avoided by each;though, with mutual occupation and amusements, they became friendlyagain, now the disturber of their amicability was removed. 

Bertie and Cecil had been inseparable the last week. His prematureexertion in calling at the cottage had thrown him back; and really ill, and, in enforced inaction, he could not bear her out of his sight. 

So day after day Cecil passed in the smoking-room, only hurrying out fora short drive or constitutional; and half-repaid by the gloomy complaint, "How long yon have been!" when she re-entered. 

Du Meresq's correspondence, too, as we have before hinted, was notcalming. A half-indignant letter from a friend whose temporaryaccommodation had not been repaid, a bill at three months wantingrenewing, a tailor threatening the extremest rigours of the law, andsimilar literature, familiar to a distressed man, was punctually broughtby the Post-office orderly for his delectation. 

"You seem interested, Cecil, " said he, as, with the uncerimoniousness ofa trusted _confidante_, she glanced through the variations of the sametext. "Do you young ladies ever get up behind each other, and back eachother's bills?"

"You haven't opened some, Bertie; and they are not all bills. "

"You can, if it amuses you, " hobbling across the room. "Why, Cecil, myfoot is almost sound again. We'll drive somewhere this afternoon, anyhow. "

"See what the doctor says. Look here, Bertie, here's a letter markedprivate, so I didn't go on. "

"Where did you find that? I never saw it. " As he read, his brow grewdark, and he pondered several minutes; while Cecil, devoured withcuriosity, and half-apprehensive of evil, remained silent. 

"Will you get me a railway-guide, Cecil? There's one in the dining-room. "

She complied, most unwillingly. 

"Are you really going, Bertie?"

"I must, to-night. "

"Why?" she more looked than asked. 

He glanced through the letter again, and tossed it to her. "You see Ihave no secrets from you, Cecil, though I should not care for any oneelse in the house to be acquainted with its contents. "

It was a confidential letter from his Colonel, saying, if absolutelynecessary, he would give him more sick leave; but advising him, ifpossible, to return at once and settle some of his most urgentliabilities, which, having repeatedly come to his ears, he could nolonger avoid taking notice of, unless he took steps to get the moreserious ones shortly arranged. 

"What _will_ you do, Bertie?"

"I don't know that anything but jumping into the Lachine Rapids wouldsolve the difficulty, " returned he, lightly; "and even that must bedeferred till the river is open. "

"How much is it?" impatiently. 

"I dare say six hundred might soothe the chief's sense of propriety, andgive one a little breathing-time. But I can't get that, so the smash mustcome a little sooner than it otherwise would. "

"You tell me that, and tie my hands by refusing to let me help you. Bertie, if you could just hold on till August, when I might draw anycheques I pleased--"

"You dearest little angel!" interrupted Du Meresq, warmly; "what have Idone that you should be so kind to me? But all women are alike--generousand true-hearted when a fellow is down in the world; and--"

"Then you promise? You will count on the money?" said Cecil, not muchflattered at being supposed only to act up to the inevitable instinctsof her sex. 

"Good heavens, Cecil! no; I am not such an unprincipled brute as to robyou of a penny. Under no possible circumstances could I touch--"

"Under _no possible_ circumstances?" leapt out before she could restrainher speech. Had the meaning escaped him, the eloquent blood which rushedover neck and brow must have betrayed it completely. 

Bertie, who had been speaking without motive, was taken by surprise asthe sense of her impulsive words flashed on his brain. 

"My darling Cecil!"

Cecil, the colour of a carnation, and expiring with embarrassment, raisedher eyes, and encountered his fixed on her with a fond, sad, but _not_responsive expression. If shame could kill, she had received her _coup degrâce_ that moment. He had understood, and yet said nothing. 

The most rapturous gratitude on his part would hardly have reconciledher to herself; not to be met half-way was ignominious rejection. 

It had all been the work of one moment, and relief came in the next withthe entrance of Colonel Rolleston. Cecil, feeling as if delivered from aspell, got out of the room, and entrenched herself in her own, where herthoughts became almost unendurable. 

In horror at what she had done, her first wish was never to see Bertieagain. Every particle of pleasure in his society must now be over sincethat one mad, unguarded sentence. 

"I might have known, " thought she, bitterly, "that that false, caressing manner of his never meant anything. I have seen it with a dozengirls--even Bluebell, "--here she winced; "and yet in the face of allprobability I must needs believe myself more to him than any one, becauseit suits him to make me the receptacle of his worries. Well, he isdisinterested, at any rate, since all my money has no more attractionsfor him than myself. "

A stormy hour did poor Cecil pass with her wounded pride, when she wasinterrupted by Lola, the Mercury of the establishment, who came to tellher that "dinner would be an hour earlier, because Bertie was goingaway. "

Cecil received the intelligence very shortly, and nipped in the bud herevident intention of lingering by declaring herself "busy, " which thatastute young person, seeing no signs of employment, interpreted as"cross. "

"I must face it, " thought she, as the last peal of the gong jarred on hernerves. She descended just in time to see Colonel and Mrs. Rollestondisappear into the dining-room. Du Meresq, who had waited, eagerly placedher hand under his arm, and drew her back a moment. 

"Cecil, where have you been hiding all this afternoon?"

I suppose he had the key to the answer, for the changing hues of hercomplexion, in which pride struggled with confusion, was the only one hegot. 

"You utter little goose!" said Bertie, emphatically, crushing the handunder his arm as they entered the dining-room. Curious to relate, Cecilscarcely felt so ashamed as she had an hour ago. Not a chance would shegive him, though, of speaking a syllable in private; and very soon afterdinner he departed, taking leave of Cecil before all the rest, with nomore distinguishing mark of affection than a long hand-clasp, whichseemed as if it would never unlock. 

"Only his odious flirting manner!" said Cecil to herself; but she did notthink so, and felt a good deal less self-contempt than she had before. 

Next day, when Mrs. Rolleston announced Bluebell's expected return, Cecilfelt quite in charity with her, and resolved to make things pleasanterthan they had been, though this relenting mood was nearly dissipated byher unconscious rival presuming to look miserable at the tidings of DuMeresq's departure. 

CHAPTER XV. 

AN ENIGMATICAL LETTER. 

 'Tis Spring, bright Spring, and bluebirds sing. 

 I was monarch supreme in my cloudland. I was master of fate in that proud land; I would not endure That a grief without cure, A love that could end, Or a false hearted friend, Should dwell for an instant in cloudland. --Mackay. 

Nothing but rain, pouring rain, for the next few days, washing the wallsof snow down the unmetaled streets, a very slough of despond to allbeasts of burden. Once more the sight of green grass relieved the eye, weary of the one monotonous hue it had rested on for weeks, and still itrained as if determined not to stop till it had fulfilled its mission, and dissolved every sooty patch that in chilly spots still obstinatelylingered. 

At last the clouds parted, the sun came out, and Cecil, regardless ofmud, and impatient of long confinement, started off for a gallop on"Wings. "

On her way she met the Post-office orderly with letters, who stopped andgave her one. It isn't such a very easy thing to read your correspondenceon horseback, with the wind catching the sheets, and the sun shiningthrough the paper, mixing the writing on the other side with the one youare reading. Still less feasible is it in a crowded street; so, thoughCecil at once recognised the handwriting of Du Meresq, it had to beconsigned to the saddle-pocket till the traffic was threaded, and she hadentered on a quiet corduroy road by the lake. Then she opened it with aflattering feeling of expectation, and was half-disappointed at its calmcommencement. 

Bertie, with his usual dependence on her sympathy, began by telling herthat he had been able to make a temporary arrangement, which had squaredthings for the present. "But, " he continued, "the evil day must be nolonger deferred. I will try and find out every shilling I owe. It will bemore than I expect, I dare say, yet my commission ought to cover it, and, altogether, I shall probably save enough out of the fire to be a smallcapitalist in Australia. Much as I hate it, I must cut the service, forif my debts were paid to-morrow I should have just as many in two years. Dearest Cecil, I know you do not exactly hate me; I wish I were moreworthy of the affection of such a dear, true-hearted girl. Will you trustme, Cecil, and believe in me a little longer, even if I say no more atpresent? I don't think your father likes me; I wish now he did. Let mesee your dear handwriting soon. I believe you have more head than anygirl I know, and more heart, too; and no one can appreciate your senseand affection more than yours, ever devotedly, "A. Du MERESQ. "

Cecil rode thoughtfully on, as she turned the letter over in her mind, trying to penetrate Bertie's meaning. 

"Why does he not speak out more plainly?" thought she. "He will never beany richer unless he marries me, so it is useless waiting for that. Iwill not, any how, be in too great a hurry to understand him this time. If his debts are paid, and he leaves the army soon, he must say more--ornothing. " And at that chance Cecil turned rather pale, and giving Wingshis head, who had been fretting some time, started off at a goodrefreshing galop. They were on the race course now, and, excited by theturf, he gave her quite enough to do to hold him. 

"What fun station-life must be, " thought she. "Always riding in a wild, strange country, --birds, animals, plants, scenery, and ideas, alldifferent and unhackneyed. Canada is well enough, but it mimics Englandtoo much, and is fifty years behind it. " Before she got home, she hadcomposed a clear-headed and sympathetic, but not at all lover-like, letter to Bertie, who was disappointed at the tone of it; and--"as thenymph flies, the swain pursues"--he wrote a much more affectionate oneback, and then Cecil suffered her thoughts to take a more decided shape, and they dwelt especially on a "lodge in some vast wilderness" of hercolonial paradise, --picturesque, but not luxurious--an exquisite climate, and Bertie combining the life of a happy hunter and enterprisingcolonist, returning to sup on a kangaroo steak, and to wake up to anotherday of movement and adventure. 

Cecil passed a great deal of her time in this ideal log-house, sometimesgarrisoning and defending it, during Bertie's absence, against a warparty of savages, for danger was by no means excluded from her scheme offelicity, except perhaps one, like St. Senaun's isle, her--

 "Sacred sod, Should ne'er by Woman's feet be trod. "

In such dreams and the companionship of Bluebell, who gave no furtheroffence, now that she had learnt self-command and the necessity ofkeeping her feelings to herself, the spring advanced apace, and the firstbluebird, alighting on the garden rails, was descried with a shriek ofecstacy by Lola. 

The children, who unlike their elders, had had no gaieties, or sleighingand skating parties, to wile away the rigours of the snow king's reign, were emancipated from dulness by the approach of summer. Their lessonscould be carried on in the garden; and, one day, Lola, who had shut hereyes while repeating to herself an irregular verb, saw, on opening them, a jewelled humming-bird balancing itself in the air on a level with herhat, and apparently inspecting that head-dress with wonder and curiosity, after which it flashed off and dived into a flower. 

The garden was alive with fairy wonders; wild canaries came to it--puresaffron, except their black-flecked wings, --the soldier-bird, so bold andscarlet, --robins were a drug in the market, and only tolerated for theirtameness and vocal powers. But none could weary of the bluebirds, whoseazure took so vivid a hue in flight, from the sun shining through theirwings. 

Then there were excursions to the Humber woods in search of wild flowers, all new, rare, and delicate, --too much so to bear the pressure of eagerhands, for they seldom survived the transit home. Often Cecil, Bluebell, Miss Prosody, and the children drove there in a waggonette, with aluncheon-basket, and spent the whole day in the golden woods, or rowingon the Humber river. Cecil's craze at this time was to paddle her owncanoe; and occasionally Lilla Tremaine, who had become pretty intimatewith her, joined the aquatic party. 

The Colonel had rather demurred at first, thinking there was a _soupçon_of fastness and independence in it. Visions of possible anglers andunchaperoned river flirtations disturbed his mind; but eventually hesatisfied himself, by requiring Miss Prosody to be always of the party, who followed with the children and a boatman in a flat-bottomed tub. 

On one of these occasions they had been pulling about the beautiful bendsof the river. Cecil, paddling her canoe, with a trolling-line out at theend of it, and Bluebell rowing a boat, while Lilla fished with a veryespecial spoon-bait of her own devising. Despite, however, the seductionsof the gaudy red cloth and tassel of long hair from a deer's tail, not afish impaled itself on the circle of formidable hooks prepared for itsreception, and the mid-day sun began to dart fiercely on them. 

"All nature speaks of luncheon and repose, " cried Lilla, beginning towind up her line, after the frequent weed had repeatedly mocked her hopeswith its dull, dead pull. "Let us moor the fleet under this overhangingfir-tree, Cecil; it makes quite a bower. "

"It feels like thunder, the fish don't bite, and the mosquitoes do, "assented Cecil. "We must signal for the Infantry, though, who are alsothe Commissariat. "

Bluebell tied a silk handkerchief to her oar, and waved it wildly. 

"I wonder if that old nuisance enjoys herself, " speculated Miss Tremaine, as Miss Prosody's prim visage appeared in the stern of the other boat. "So like you English, always carrying your propriety about in the shapeof a foil. "

"Don't abuse our treasure, " said Cecil, demurely. "Ask papa what hethinks of Miss Prosody. "

"I should get a more impartial opinion from Estelle and Fleda, who arealways being kept in and bullied. "

"Well, I really think the other children are enough for to-day, " saidCecil. "What a fuss Freddy made to get after Bluebell into that tituppylittle boat of yours. "

"Yes, and you would all have been beseeching him not to till now, if Ihad not taken him by the scruff of the neck and dropped him into theother!"

"Well, dear, " said Cecil, languidly; "we don't all possess your strengthof mind and biceps. What have you got there, Lola?" as the boatman deftlyshot the other boat under the overhanging branches. 

"Water-lily leaves for plates! See now stiff and shining they are, andwashed up so clean. "

"Then, I suppose we must not use these wooden ones, my fanciful fairy?"

"Don't be so foolish, Lola!" snapped in Miss Prosody. "You'll spoil yourfrock; throw them away!"

"We can put them over the platters, " said Cecil. "Hand out the edibles, Bluebell. What have you got?"

"Here's a pie, a cake, a tart, croquettes; no knives, about a pound ofsalt, and some butter in the last stage of dissolution. "

"No knives!" cried Miss Prosody. "There must be!" plunging desperatelyinto the basket. 

"That is more untidy than a lily-leaf plate, " remarked Lilla. 

"No, positively not, " said the governess. "How very remiss of Bowers, particularly as I observe he has provided forks!"

The children looked disappointed. They had been reckoning on thephenomenon of Miss Prosody, subjugated by hunger, eating pie with herfingers. 

"Here be a knife!" said the boatman, wiping on his trousers the blade ofhis clasp-knife. 

"Let as put a polish on, " said Lilla, laughing at Cecil's face; and, jumping on to the bank, thrust it several times into the earth. Thechildren, tired of their cramped position in the boat, wished to dine onshore; but it was thickly wooded, and there was no clear space; so Freddywas wedged into a fork of the tree, and Lola swung on another bough, where they chattered like two pies, handing down a basket on a stringwhen they required fresh supplies. 

Cecil lay on the bear-skin in her canoe, with her hat over her face, declaring it too hot to eat, but consuming, under protest, a croquetteoccasionally tossed in for her sustenance. Miss Prosody, quite genial andurbane after luncheon, was deep in consultation with the boatman as tothe locality of certain ferns she proposed spudding up for her petrockery at "The Maples, " where her lighter hours were diurnally spent inwashing and tending her spoils. 

"I suppose this is all very sylvan and jolly, " said Lilla, handing theremnants of the refection to the boatman; "yet somehow, candidly, it'sslow. "

"Possibly, " said Cecil, "it is the absence of the other sex that makesyou find it so?"

"Perhaps, " said Lilla, frankly, with furtive enjoyment of Miss Prosody'sstiffening face. "Well, ladies, I should like my little smoke; can Ioffer anybody one? You will find them very mild, "--and she drew forth aneat case of Latakia cigarettes, selected one, and, striking a match onthe heel of her boot, lit it. 

"Of course, if you choose to be so unlady-like, we cannot prevent you, "said the governess, icily. 

"Dear me!" said Lilla, innocently, "I never dreamt of your objecting; forI have heard you tell Colonel Rolleston, when he has been smoking, howfond you were of it in the open air. "

"Colonel Rolleston would most decidedly disapprove of _your_ doing it. "

"He does, I believe, of most of my actions; but he is very kind to me allthe same. Look at this wretch of a mosquito actually stinging through myglove. I'll just touch him up with the red ash of my cigar. "

Miss Prosody knew of old that Lilla was incorrigible, and, having nohope of support from Cecil in any attempt to snub her, resolved todiscountenance the proceeding by going away, and summoned the childrenfrom their tree, who were quite ready for a fresh start. The girlsdeclared it was too hot to move. Lilla continued to puff away lazily, thezest rather gone now there was nobody to be shocked at it. Bluebell, mingling her voice with the birds, was singing the "Danube River, "while Cecil, with shut eyes, lay in her canoe, and gave herself up to thedreamy music, till, aroused by its sudden cessation, she looked up, andsaw a boat half checked in its speed, and Major Fane and Jack Vavasourdoffing their billy-cock hats. 

Cecil's return bow was freezing, and Major Fane, who had restedirresolutely a moment on his oars, shot the boat on with vigorous pulls. She felt half penitent as she saw his discomfited face, but her coldnessarose from having become alive to a possible danger. 

Colonel Rolleston had lately very frequently asked him to dinner, evenwhen there was no one else, and he always fell to her share to entertain. Now Major Fane was a very good match in every way, --quite what parentsand guardians would approve; so, thought Cecil, --"I can't have anymistakes about that, or it will only settle papa against Bertie. "

"Did you summon those two from this vasty deep, Lilla?" cried she. "But, I forgot; I don't think either of them sail under your flag. "

"My colours are too rakish and privateerish for Major Fane; and as forJack, I am afraid he has the bad taste to prefer Bluebells to Lilies. "

"If you think him worth your acceptance, " said Bluebell "I will make youa present of him. "

"He may be yours to keep, my dear, but not to give away. At present I amnot 'on for matrimony, ' and, to flirt with, I don't know any one betterfun than Bertie Du Meresq. "

The other girls were both too conscious to reply to this audaciousremark, and after awhile they resumed fishing, Lilla's gaudy bait stillunsuccessful, though Cecil had landed one or two pike. Bluebell grewtired of rowing steadily to keep her companion's line extended, andpersuaded her to wind it up; then Lilla took the sculls, and they fellinto conversation. 

"Were you at that tobogganing party where Captain Du Meresq hurt hisankle?" asked Bluebell, diligently examining the corolla of a water-lily. 

"Why?" was the counter inquiry. 

"Because I never heard how it happened. "

"How was that?" said Lilla, launching into narrative. At the close of itshe said, --"Cecil pulled him through that time. I shouldn't have thoughtnursing much in her line; but she was very hard hit, you know, and Irather wondered Bertie didn't propose before he left so suddenly. Verylikely he did though. "

Bluebell's eyes opened in horror at this unpalatable suggestion. "What_are_ you dreaming of, Lilla?" gasped she. "Cecil! why she looks upon himas an uncle or something. "

"Oh, Bluebell, you blind little bat, it would be as well if you lookedupon him 'as an uncle or something. '"

But the other sat aghast and speechless. Lily glanced at hersympathetically. 

"Well, perhaps he mayn't care for Cecil. He has been talking nonsense toyou, too, I see, as he has to us all three, for that matter. I feel soangry about it, I have a great mind to tell you all he said to _me_. "

"I don't want to hear, " said her companion, coldly; "nor do I at allagree with you about Cecil"

"All right, " returned the other. "Only remember he can't afford to marry, whatever he may have pretended to you--not but what that subject is aboutthe last it ever occurs to him to enter upon. "

Bluebell at first utterly refused to receive this intolerable suggestioninto her mind. Lilla must be inventing--in love with him herself, andtrying to make mischief. Nothing should induce her to believe it. Howirritating she was, too, with that knowing, quizzing expression in herface!

So when Cecil, tired of solitude, proposed coming into their boat, Bluebell eagerly took possession of the canoe, and went off on anindependent paddle, ostensibly to look for Miss Prosody. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

DETECTED. 

 His passion is not, he declares, the mere fever Of a rapturous moment. It knows no control; It will burn in his breast thro' existence for ever, Immutably fixed in the deeps of the soul. --The Wanderer. 

"Why did you shoot on so quick, Major?" said Vavasour, in an injuredtone, after the dumb scene before referred to. "We might as well havestayed and discoursed those young women. "

Fane growled something about not choosing to intrude. 

"I don't suppose they would have minded. That spicy little party, LilyTremaine, was smoking. I wonder who finds her in cigars?"

"I hate Canadian girls!" said Fane. "And when they pretend to be fastthey are more unbearable still. "

"Oh, come, " said Jack, warmly, for was not Bluebell of that malignednationality? "they must have used you badly, Major. They are far moreunaffected and natural than English girls, who always ride to orders; andas for beauty--"

"You have only got to look at Bluebell Leigh. Well, slope back to them, Jack. You shan't have the boat, because I should never get it again. Butif you like to plough through that long grass to their bivouac, I daresaythe mosquitoes will receive you warmly if the young ladies don't. "

In the meantime, Bluebell, tempted by a shady creek, abandoned her canoe, and, flinging herself down on a bed of wild flowers, remained a prey tothe consideration of this new view of Lilla's, which would account, inthe most unwelcome manner, for the inconsistency of Du Meresq's conductwith his professions. 

Cecil a rival! Much as she wished to disbelieve it, corroborativeevidence, unheeded at the time, now recurred with such startlingdistinctness that she marvelled at her own previous blindness. Still, Bluebell was not cured. That he cared most for herself she continued tobelieve, though Cecil's fortune might have tempted him away. Plan afterplan for obtaining an explanation was discarded as unfeasible; and, atlast, Bluebell, in despair, hid her face in her hands, and burst into theunrestrained grief of the young. 

She was disturbed by a slight rustling in the bushes, and, looking up, beheld Jack Vavasour in an attitude of confusion and consternation, apparently meditating flight. 

"I beg your pardon, Miss Leigh; I was going away before you saw me. I'llgo at once. My darling Bluebell, what _is_ the matter?"

"I don't know, " said she, relieved to see it was "only Jack. " "I am veryhot and--miserable. "

Vavasour sat down, and tried in his honest and unsophisticated way toconsole her. "Was there any one he could pitch into for her? He would doanything she wished, etc. , if she would only say what was vexing her. "

Bluebell could hardly help laughing, but was so unaccustomed of late tosympathy, that she felt half tempted to take him into council, andconfide her misplaced attachment and perplexities. 

It was rather heartless, knowing his sentiments; but callousness to thepangs of a lightly won and unvalued heart is not uncommon in Love'sannals. 

However, he was too precipitate for her. 

"Bluebell, " he began, blushing rather, and looking, as she thought, almost handsome in his eagerness, "do you remember what I said to you theother night when we were looking at the Northern Lights?"

"I remember some absurd chaff. "

"It wasn't, " said Jack, with emphasis suited to the solemnity of thedeclaration. "I meant every word of it; and now I say, like the Beast inthe fairy tale--'Beauty, will you marry me?'"

"And she always said, --'No, Beast, '" said Bluebell, laughing; "and thenhe went away, 'very sorrowful. '"

"Yes, but that's the difference. I shan't go away, or let you, till yousay 'Yes. '"

"I couldn't, really, " said she, treating it as a joke. "So we shall bestarved to death, and covered up by birds, like the babes in the wood. "

"No; we will live happy ever afterwards, " passing an arm round her waistwith an air of proprietorship. "Shall I tell Colonel Rolleston to-night?"

"Oh, this is too serious, " cried Bluebell, energetically freeing herself. "If you really want an answer to such stuff, most decidedly 'No. '"

Jack, in furious mortification, for he saw she was now thoroughly inearnest, poured forth reproaches, accusing her of coquetry and purposelydeceiving him, caring not if his words were just or unjust; andBluebell's conscience was not altogether guiltless. Perhaps her owndisappointment made her better understand his; for she waited patientlytill the torrent of words had a little subsided, and then, laying herhand persuasively on his arm, said with gentle archness, --

"Don't be angry, Jack. What should we live on? _I_ haven't a penny, _you_can't always pay your mess bill, and I am afraid an officer's wifecouldn't go on the strength of the regiment, and take in washing. "

"I didn't think you were so mercenary, " said he, looking into her liquideyes, that were fast quenching the angry light in his. 

"I suppose I must be, " said Bluebell, _naively_; "for I hate poverty so. You know my father married--just as you want to do--a pretty girl withouta dollar to her name. "

"You are pretty, my darling, and you know it, " said Jack, bitterly. 

"I don't know why people care for me if I am not, for I'm afraid thereisn't much in me; and at the age of seventeen one may at least lay claimto _la beauté du diable_. Well, as I was going to say, my father marriedjust as imprudently, and got disinherited for his pains. "

"No fear of that with me, " said Jack. "I am number seven, and they haveall good constitutions. Destiny has decreed that I must live by my wits, without even providing me with any. "

"So you see, " continued she, "as we have neither money nor brains, it isno use thinking of it!"

"You are wise in your generation, " said Jack, darkly. "You are prettyenough to get a rich husband any day; but whoever it is, for Heaven'ssake, don't let it be Du Meresq!"

Bluebell's fair brow contracted, and her dark lashes swept her cheek, asshe said, in a low, pained voice, --"No fear of that. "

"I trust not, " said Jack, severely, and quite unconvinced. "You are but achild, Bluebell; and, though you won't take me, I shall watch over you, and see that you do not throw yourself away; though if any good fellowwants you, I suppose I must grin and bear it. "

"Thanks, my stern guardian. I hope you won't die of old age in the meantime. And now, do go, dear Jack. I must paddle after the others. "

"Say good-bye first. May I, Bluebell? Only this once, "--and, withoutwaiting for consent, he imprinted a kiss, grave as an officiatingpriest's to a new made bride. Touched by his love and resignation shevoluntarily returned it, and, turning away, encountered the twomischievous eyes of Miss Tremaine in the stern of her boat, which hadglided up unobserved. 

I suppose there is no dereliction from the Eleventh Commandment, in whichpeople would more joyfully welcome an earthquake than being taken at asimilar disadvantage. No explanation or extenuating circumstances can beattempted in that deep confusion. 

Lilla raised her eyes to heaven with a most edifying expression of pioushorror, and shook her head disapprovingly. 

"Jack, " muttered Bluebell, in a tone of concentrated anguish, "I shalldie of it!"

Vavasour suppressed an expletive more forcible than parliamentary, andstrode down to pull the boat in. 

"Oh, here you are, " cried Cecil, innocent of the foregoing pantomime, forshe was rowing, and had her back to them. "Mr. Vavasour, where do youspring from?" She noted, as she spoke, his strange expression andBluebell's heightened colour with quickening curiosity and pleasure. 

"I left Fane further down the river, " said he; "and Miss Leigh and I satlistening to the--bull-frogs. " Here Jack cast a look half-imploring, half-furious, at Lilla, who had assumed a most Quakerish expression, andhummed the air, "A frog he would a wooing go. "

"Well, get in Bluebell, " said Cecil, smiling; "we are going home now. Come and see us soon, Mr. Vavasour. "

Jack liked Cecil very much; but he only bowed gloomily, and placingBluebell in her canoe, disappeared, as might be inferred, to Fane; thoughafterwards that gentleman bitterly complained that he had, on returninghome, --after waiting, to his great inconvenience, an hour or more, anathematizing Jack, --found that he had walked back to barracks totallyoblivious of his companion. 

Bluebell's return drive was far from a peaceful one. Lilla, it is true, abstained from remarks before the children; but there was no escaping herprovokingly wicked glances, which argued ill for her future discretion. 

Cecil, on the contrary, was unusually suave and considerate to Bluebell, and had rather the air of shielding her from Lilla; which would have beenless incomprehensible had she known that in the interval of disembarkingand entering the waggonette, Cecil had been made a participator in thatmalicious damsel's discovery. 

At bed-time, Miss Rolleston, contrary to her wont, entered Bluebell'sroom, hair-brush in hand, as if disposed for a cozy confab. But thatemployment, so provocative of feminine disclosures, appeared futile thisnight, and the raven and chestnut coils were brushed to the sheen of abird's wing ere Cecil had discovered what she had come for. 

At last, under cover of lighting her candle, she said, with a disarmingsmile, --"You are very reserved, Bluebell. May I guess what Lubin said toyou in the Humber, to-day?"

"I dare say you can, " said the other, simply. "He will forget all aboutit soon, I trust. "

"Do you mean you gave him no hope?" a suspicion of Lilla's veracitymingling with her disappointment. 

"Certainly not, " with great energy. 

"But why?" asked Cecil, with asperity. 

Bluebell turned her melancholy eyes full upon her, and the two rivalsgazed steadily at each other. Then Cecil's head was impatiently flungback, her level eyebrows went down, and, without further remark, sherose and left the room. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

DID YOU PROPOSE THEN?

 A lover came riding by a while; A wealthy lover was he, whose smile Some maids would value greatly. --More Bad Ballads. 

The summer had not been a very gay one. The heat was so intense as tothrow languour on the garden and croquet-parties, which replaced thewinter balls and sleigh drives. Thunder was in the air, and growled andmuttered around; but the joyfully-hailed clouds floated away withoutaffording a drop of rain; or if one black flying monster poured itselflike a water-spout on the parched city, laying the flowers with itsviolence, the thirsty earth licked it up, scarce leaving a trace. Summerlightning quaked in long sheets over the horizon; the geese were lyingdead on the common from drought; and the restless night was haunted bythe tramp of straying horses on the wooden side-walks. 

"Round trips" were advertised in all the papers, and brackishbathing-places on the St. Lawrence were already crowded. The Saguenay andMarguerite rivers had carried off their fishing votaries, the black flyworked its wicked will at Tadousac, where the "property" whale ofthe ---- hotel had already been seen spouting, according to the waiter, as he attended at the matitudinal _table-d'hôte_. At any rate, sealsmight be seen with the naked eye, and shot, too, by a wary seal-slayer ina boat. Two such trophies were already in the hotel, affording unlimitedexcitement to the visitors, who, indeed, were somewhat in need ofextraneous amusement, for the only resource the place could boast waspulling a boat against the strong tide of the two rivers meeting, withthe alternative of a garment-rending scramble in the woods, a prey to thenipping fly, and coming sometimes in undesired proximity to a wild cat. 

Twice a week the Quebec boats, with Saguenay trippers, chiefly Americans, halted at the hotel for an hour or two, and turned in their freight, whoinvariably commenced dancing to the more amiable than tuneful strains ofan amateur performer in the public drawing-room. 

This pleasure was partaken of quite as "sadly" as if they were our ownunfrisky compatriots; but it passed the time, and the males still furtherdiversified it by "smiling" at the bar. 

The Rollestons, vacillating between Tadousac, the Falls, a trip in the"Algoma, " and a journey to Boston, their large party being an objectionto each and all, were finally attracted by an advertisement of afishing-lodge to be let or sold on Rice Lake. 

This would be a _pied à terre_ for disposing of the impedimenta of thefamily--governess and children--during the hot months, leaving the othersat liberty for flying excursions. The price was so ridiculous thatColonel Rolleston bought it outright, jestingly saying to Lola that itshould be her marriage portion. 

There had been a croquet party at "The Maples, " but nearly every one wasgone except two or three who were remaining for dinner. Among these, witha movement of vexation, Cecil observed Major Fane, her father'spersistent encouragement of whom began to cause her serious uneasiness. Why, this was the second time within four days he had been asked to dine!"Can he possibly have spoken to papa first?" thought she. "It is just thesort of matter-of-fact thing he would do. " Revolving it over, she walkedslowly towards her step-mother, who was revelling in a packet of Englishletters just received, and began reading out portions to Cecil, wholistened absently at first, till a passage in one of them, fromcircumstances, arrested her attention. 

It was from a cousin of Mrs. Rolleston's, and chiefly related to heronly daughter, who was heiress to a considerable property. This childhad always been backward and excitable, and apparently incapable of thefatigue of study. The letter went on to say that Evelyn was developinga passion for music, even attempting to compose, and that the writerdesired to find a good musician to reside with them, who should be alsoyoung and cheerful, and likely to tempt her on in other branches ofeducation as well. 

"Mrs. Leighton is exactly describing Bluebell, " said Cecil, quietly. 

"Oh! and she would suit them so perfectly. I _wonder_ if it would do!Bluebell will be crazy with delight, she has such a wish to see England;but I doubt if her mother would part with her to such a distance. "

Cecil despised herself for saying, --"If you were to put it very stronglyto Mrs. Leigh, and show her the advantages to her daughter, --for they arerich as Croesus, and would pay anything for a fancy, --surely she wouldnot stand in her way. "

Mrs. Rolleston was meditating, and answered, rather inconsequently, --"Ifeel greatly interested in Bluebell. I think she is very conscientiousand right-minded. Mr. Vavasour never comes here now; and I am sure shehas never encouraged him since I gave her a hint on the subject. "

Cecil remembered the scene in the Humber, and Bluebell'ssuggestively-conscious face that evening, so did not rate so highly theheroism of her friend. But the stragglers now drew round them, and theywent in to prepare for dinner. 

Cecil had also kept Lilla Tremaine, for latterly she had shrunk from a_têtê-à-têtê_ with Bluebell, who, sensible of their estrangement, yetsadly acquiesced in it, as her new-born suspicions had been strengthenedby seeing Cecil receive a letter in Bertie's handwriting. 

Lilla, who could not forget the _tableau vivant_ she had witnessed, wascontinually persecuting her hapless victim with inuendoes and allusions, whose anger and powerlessness to exculpate herself gave an additionalzest to the amusement. Therefore, finding this young lady was to remainthe evening, Bluebell took refuge in the school-room tea, and did notappear at dinner. 

Conversation fell on the new purchase, and their approaching departurefor Rice Lake; and, observing this did not appear to have a veryexhilarating effect on the Major, Colonel Rolleston continued, --"Whenwill you come down and see us, Fane? We shall get very tired of ourrecluse life, and want some one to bring us the news. "

The Major's face brightened, but, stealing a glance at Cecil's, whichonly expressed consternation, it was speedily overcast, and he returnedan evasive answer. Looking gloomily for the relief he expected to discernin her countenance, he received a swift glance of gratitude, whichuncomplimentary graciousness completed his discomfiture. 

Soon after dinner some garrison duty summoned away Colonel Rolleston, and the others returned to the garden, where daylight struggled with thenewly-risen moon. A soft breeze came up from the lake, reviving afterthe glaring day. Cecil was _distraite_ and silent, so Lilla's vivacioustongue attracted around her the gentlemen of the group, and, withoutany effort of his, Major Fane found himself somewhat apart with MissRolleston. 

Though heart-whole when we first introduced him, he was now really inlove with Cecil, --that is to say, he approved of and wished to marry her. 

As an eligible, many determined efforts had been made for his capture, and the absence of any desire on her part to attract him gave first thefeeling of security which soon led to a stronger one. If not pretty, shewas graceful, especially so just now, he thought, in that unconscious, reflective attitude. 

Fane became nervous: it wasn't often he got the chance of being alonewith her, and she might immediately rejoin the others; but just thenCecil, coming out of her reverie, looked up, and said, --"Don't you wantto smoke? Not here, but come over to the summer-house where the childrendo their lessons. "

This proposal from the reserved Cecil, who had lately been soconspicuously repellent? He thought the change too good so be believed, and, without another asking, accompanied her to the arbour; but sheinsisted on the ostensible motive of their going there being carried out. 

"Do you think, Cecil, " said he, darting on his opportunity, "I wantanything else when I am alone with you?"

Fane had, as he thought, broken the ice; but the next instant he wasuncertain if she had heard or understood. A moonbeam showed him herface, --it was very pale with a look of determination on it, and her eyeswere bright and steady. 

"Yes, " said she, after a pause, "I am glad we are alone. Major Fane, Ihave known you such a long time, I want to ask a favour of you, and tellyou a secret. "

The most confident lover might have found something ominous in thesewords. Fane felt as if he had made a false step; but he answered, stiffly, perhaps, --"You must have known me to very little purpose, MissRolleston, if you are not assured how gladly I would help or be of use toyou in any way. "

"Don't think me mad, " cried the girl, impulsively; "but could you stayaway--I mean, not come here quite so often. "

Fane was too much astonished to speak, and Cecil plunged desperatelyon. "You have been so kind to me, " she faltered, "I am afraid of itsmisleading papa, and his thinking that you have wishes and intentions--"

"That I might wish to marry you, Cecil? Is that the misconception you areafraid of?"

"Pray don't imagine _I_ think so, but _he_, might; and, oh! Major Fane, I care most deeply for some one whom I know would not be acceptable topapa. You, on the contrary, would be everything he could wish--don't yousee? the disappointment would make the other all the more objectionableto him. "

"I do see my unenviable position, " said Fane, shortly, for it was badenough to be thrown over himself without being expected to be interestedin a rival. "What do you wish me to do, Miss Rolleston?"

"To forget, if you can, every word I have said, " cried Cecil, in an_accès_ of embarrassment now that she had done it, and the excitement wasover. "What _must_ you think of me!"

Fane was silent for some time, for he was struggling with mortification. Fortunately for Cecil, he was a gentleman, or he might have revengedhimself by assuring her she had totally mistaken his intentions. 

"I can't under-value the sacrifice you ask of me, " said he, presently. "Ido not blame you, for you have never pretended to spare me any affectionfrom the lover you are so true to. I hope he is worthy of it. "

A pang seized her, as the doubt whether she was not throwing away truegold for counterfeit obtruded itself. "We are good enough for eachother, " said she, simply, "but, at present, his prospects are sodiscouraging, that we are not even engaged. " A curious expression passedover Fane's face. "But I have money enough for both, " pursued Cecil, "andif papa is not dazzled and attracted by more brilliant--by you, in short, he must see there is sufficient, and, if I remain firm, eventuallyconsent. "

Her extreme eagerness infected Fane too, and relieved the awkwardness ofher strange appeal. 

"Still afraid of me!" said he, sadly. "My poor child! I fear there istrouble before you. Will it satisfy you if I get six months' leave, andgo to England? By that time, perhaps, your complications may havearranged themselves. "

Cecil's dark eyes beamed on him with the most speaking gratitude. "You_are_ a true friend, " cried she, warmly, "but how selfish and exacting ofme to banish you!"

"Oh, as to that, " said he, with a short laugh, "I shall not dislike it. I should have got away long ago if I had known what I do now. "

Nothing a woman detests so much as friendship from the man she cares for, and yet she always offers it to the suitor she rejects. 

"I never thought you would care really, " said she softly "I hope I havenot lost my friend by putting too much confidence in him. "

"I ought to thank you for your honesty, " said he, with a reaction tobitterness, and they rose and returned to the others, met by many asignificant look and shrug. Fane observed it, and determined to go. Hewas in no humour to be watched and commented on as a suitor of Cecil's. His dog-cart hadn't come, but he lit a cigar, and walked to meet it. "Sothat's settled, " thought he. "And now the sooner I get out of this horridcountry the better. I wish I hadn't refused a share of that moor; Ishould have been just in time for it. Well, she is a nice girl--far toogood for that scamp, Du Meresq. I might have suspected what was going onthere. Poor child! what a life he will lead her if it comes off, but mostlikely it won't. It _must_ be Du Meresq; for, though I was evidentlymeant by the Colonel, I remember that Madame never seemed especiallypleased to see me. "

How unfeeling women are! Cecil forgot her remorse at Fane'sdisappointment in exultation at having so successfully removed a seriousobstacle from her path, and her eye sparkled with wicked amusement as shenoticed the marked coldness of Mrs. Rolleston's manner, due to hersupposed flirtation with the Major. 

The Colonel, too, who returned shortly afterwards, glanced round andinquired for Fane. 

"Gone, I think, " said Cecil, innocently; and he also threw upon her alook of gloom and reproach. No engaged young lady could be gayer thanCecil the rest of the evening. She became the life of the party, wouldkeep everybody as late as possible: and certainly more than one sharedthe opinion of Mrs. Rolleston, whom her daughter mischievously tried toconfirm in it, that the arbour had been the scene of a proposal andacceptance. 

As the elder lady was slowly undressing that night, Cecil, still with thesame provoking brightness on her face, peeped in. 

"Are you sleepy, mamma?"

There was something in her manner that brought Mrs. Rolleston'sannoyance to the culminating point. She thought the faithless damsel hadcome to announce her engagement, and demand sympathy and congratulations. So, with a view to arrest any aggressive gush, she said, with someasperity, --"I am glad you have come, for I wanted to tell you, Cecil, how bad it looked your walking off in that way with Major Fane. "

"I suppose it was rather strong, " said the girl coolly; "but I like himso much. I had no idea he was so nice. "

Mrs. Rolleston took refuge in the ill-assumed dignity of rising anger. 

"I suppose, mamma, he is very well off? Papa often wonders that he goessoldiering on. "

"Really, Cecil, whatever your speculations may be, it was not a delicateact, sitting apart with him for half-an-hour in a dark arbour. "

"I thought he might propose, "--Mrs. Rolleston's face expressed, "Are youmad?"--"or give me a chance somehow of saying what I wanted to. Andwhat's more, " she continued, "I am not certain whether he meant to, ornot. To be sure, I didn't give him much time. "

"Did _you_, propose, then? Cecil, if you don't wish me to disbelieve myown senses, tell me at once what you were about in the summer-house. "

"Refusing eight thousand a year, " was the short reply. 

A puzzled, not unpleased expression, was dawning. "I thought you said hedid not propose?"

"Well, no; honestly, he didn't. We had a little conversation, and theupshot was, he has promised to go to England for six months. "

Mrs. Rolleston was not a proud woman, and the relief was so great, thatshe folded Cecil in a silent embrace. 

"Perhaps, mamma, " continued the girl, demurely, "you won't think itnecessary to mention this to papa. It wouldn't be fair to betray MajorFane!"

Mrs. Rolleston was only too convinced, and replied, "that she shouldconsider it Cecil's secret, and say nothing about it. " Whereupon thedamsel ran merrily off, humming the air, "I told them they needn't comewooing to me. " But, arrived in her own room, her evanescent high spiritsvanished, and a bitter and clear-sighted mood succeeded. "Bertie, " shethought, "your evil influence is over us all. Mamma, till now the truestof step-mothers, is only thinking of ensuring you my fortune. I disobligepapa, send away a true love, hate Bluebell for her too attractive softeyes, am harassed by doubts even of you--is it worth it? I might yetrecall Lucian Fane; he is very calm, and would not expect too much. Whatfolly! No, if I am to be miserable, it must be my own way, with the onlyman who interests me heart and soul. I suppose, if we marry, I may reckonon one year of happiness, though hardly any one who knew Bertie wouldexpect him to be constant even for that time. But by then I should havegot immense influence, for, though I am not clever and attractive likehim, I have far more will, and, in the long run, it is character morethan talent that shapes our life. If Bluebell would only go to England!"

Then she detached from the wall and began to pack up a little possessionthat always travelled with her. It was only an old print of a cavalier, and no one but Cecil had observed that a twin soul to Bertie's looked outof its dreaming eyes. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

LYNDON'S LANDING. 

 All the fairy crowds Of islands that together lie As quietly as spots of sky Among the evening clouds. --Unknown. 

Bluebell had begun to feel herself in a false position. Freddy's lessonswere, of course, a farce; and Cecil now seemed never to care to practisewith her. Miss Prosody, with every hour of the day marked out for herselfand pupils, made sarcastic reflections on her want of occupation; but, unhappy though she was, she could not make up her mind to leave theRollestons, and thus dissever the chief link with Bertie. Besides, shehad heard (a piece of information derived from Fleda) that he was shortlyexpected to join them at Rice Lake. Therefore, when Mrs. Rollestonunfolded the project of sending her to England to cultivate the musicalpredilections of Evelyn Leighton, Bluebell showed such repugnance to thescheme, that Mrs. Rolleston did not press it further; and, thoughsurprised, being personally indifferent, soon dismissed it from herthoughts, with an inward comment that girls never knew their own mindsa month together. 

Cecil, however, marvelled at her mother's want of penetration and couldnot refrain from increased coolness to Bluebell. 

White horses were curling the broad waters of Ontario, as the hugeriver-steamer "St. Michael" was getting up the steam for its run toQuebec; and, from the crowd on the wharf waiting to embark, it might besurmised that even the sofas in the saloon would be at a premium forsleeping berths. The Rollestons were surrounded with acquaintances, either going themselves or seeing others off, till the bell rang, whenthere was a rush to the tug, and the big paddle-wheels got in motion. The children ran up and down the long, narrow saloon on to the decks ateach end, while Miss Prosody was vainly trying to wrest the key of asleeping-berth from the purser, who, the supply not being equal to thedemand, was having rather a hot time of it. 

"Two double cabins, " cried Colonel Rolleston, presently; "the rest musthave berths in the ladies' cabin, and trouble enough to secure that. However, here are the keys. How shall we divide?"

"Shall Estelle and Lola sleep in the wide lower berth of one cabin, and Iin the upper?" said Cecil. 

"And we must take Freddy, I suppose?" said Mrs. Rolleston; "and MissProsody, Bluebell, and Fleda, go to the ladies' cabin. "

"Oh, Cecil!" cried Lola, as they unlocked their domicile off the saloon, "what a little--little bed! If you turn, you'll tumble into ours; and howwill you get up? Won't I catch your foot!"

"No bath!" exclaimed Estelle; "only two small basins! And what alooking-glass! it makes one squint!"

"It is better than the ladies' cabin, " said Fleda, dolefully, "with thestewardess sitting there, and two or three sick-looking people, and theberths all open like the shelves of a bookcase. "

"It is only for one night, " said Cecil. "We land at Cobourg to-morrowafternoon. Look! the waiters are laying the long tables for luncheon, ordinner I suppose it is. Come out on the deck till it is ready. Oh, dear!there is not a patch of shade left for us. How they over-crowd theseboats!"

"There's a gentleman holding his umbrella over Bluebell, " said Lola. 

Cecil's eyes opened in some amazement. She would have thought it ratherimpertinent in a stranger offering such familiar accommodation, butBluebell availed herself of it with the frankest _nonchalance_, and, inthe conversation that ensued, lost her place in the first rush of diners, who, at the ringing of the bell, instantly occupied every vacant chair. 

"They seem to be having a very good time, " observed Fleda, who had pickedup some Americanisms. 

Somewhat aghast at his daughter's precocity, the Colonel stepped out onthe deck, and, with grave dignity, offered Bluebell his arm to conducther to his seat, which, quite unconscious of his disapprobation, sheaccepted with civil indifference. 

And the young subaltern lit a cigar to console himself for the withdrawalof the clear blue eyes that looked so deep under the shadow of theumbrella, and tried to find as much piquancy in the "funny book" he hadrecently purchased at the St. Michael's book-stall, while the good shipwent ploughing on, past wooden villages, brown houses picked out withwhite, and perhaps here and there a little orange-frocked child giving acharacteristic dash of colour. 

Then, as the sun sank lower, the most gorgeous hues came into the sky. But, while every one was on deck gazing on its almost tropical vividness, a film stole between, a shivering dampness pervaded the air, and soon adense fog drove the chagrined passengers back into the saloon. 

The captain went to his bridge, and the tea-bell rang soon after. Peoplewere beginning to talk sociably to their neighbours, and a mild hilarityreigned, when a violent concussion, followed by a sudden cessation of thepaddles, caused a general rush from the table. 

Bluebell, in the act of receiving the second supply of coffee, wasaroused from her immediate bewilderment by a scalding _douche_ down herneck--the waiter, a young German with heart disease painted on his lividlips and pasty complexion, having held the coffee-pot suspendedtopsy-turvy for an instant, and then fallen in a fit on the floor. 

All the men had crowded on deck, and it soon became known that they hadrun into a log raft, which, though no lives were lost had been nearlyswamped, and much injured by the collision. The "St. Michael, " too, hadreceived a bulge, which rendered a little tinkering at the first portdesirable. 

The first alarm of the passengers being lulled, and the panic havingsubsided into the excitement of a danger passed, public interest becameconcentrated on the young waiter, who still lay in a death like swoon, till, eventually resuscitated by means of one of the numerous littlebrandy-flasks that popped out from sympathetic female bags, he was borneoff by his napkin flapping fraternity to their crystal cave of tumblers. 

Little sleep did Cecil get on her narrow perch that night, for hersisters, in their dreams, were ever in a sinking ship, or strugglingin the foam-driven rapids. Even her heart beat quicker when thepaddle-wheels suddenly ceased, and ominous voices, indistinctly heard, appeared in agonized consultation. A familiar sound of knocking andhammering, however, suggested that they must have put into port for therepairs determined on; and, grasping her scanty complement of bed-clothesthat were slipping to the floor, Cecil conveyed the re-assuringintelligence to her sisters, and they composed themselves to sleep atlast. 

Another day's progress down the beautiful river, --narrow enough atintervals to see both shores, the Stars and Stripes in American villages, as well as the Union Jack in those of the "Dominion, " as it is nowcalled, --and then they entered among the thousand islands of the greatSt. Lawrence. 

Everybody was on deck watching their changing shapes, some apparently allrock, and others a bower of greenery, and admiring the skilful steeringof the large vessel among them. Soon after noon the first rapid was shot, a bubbling, seething whirlpool, with clouds of white foam beaten up bythe jagged teeth of the sunken rocks. 

Winding in and out among the islands till late in the afternoon, theyreached their port, and repaired to the hotel, to pursue the rest oftheir journey by land. 

A ricketty waggon--not an English hay-cart, but a spidery trap, with highwheels, so called--and a dilapidated buggy were placed at their disposal. Two children and the old nurse remained to follow in the coach, and theadvance guard started, after an anxious consultation as to whether thewheel of the buggy could be trusted to revolve the twelve miles withoutdislocation. 

The corduroy roads were in their usual inefficient state, --whole plankshad disappeared in places, and were loose in others, --so locomotionbecame a series of jolts and bumps. The drivers wished to save two milesby crossing a river, and spoke confidently of a bridge, which, onarriving at, proved to be only some pieces of timber cast wholesale intoit, some of them negligently nailed together. 

Mrs. Rolleston, who was not of an adventurous nature, though muchadvanced in that direction since her residence in Canada, wished toreturn, and go round; but four miles lost was too serious aconsideration; so she shut her eyes, clutched her husband, and prayedaudibly, as the driver, with a screech of encouragement to his cattle, after a few struggles and flounders, landed the waggon on the oppositeside. 

But Miss Prosody declared that the wheel of the buggy would certainly betorn off in the attempt, and, losing her usual prudery in terror, whippedoff her stockings, and proceeded to wade, to the exposure of a veryattenuated pair of calves. 

Freddy and Lola hung upon Cecil, powerless with laughter, comparing herto the thin-legged aquatic birds in the Zoo; but the Colonel, with rathera suspicious guffaw, rushed to her aid, relieving her from her hose, and, as she afterwards recollected in deep confusion, a pair of knittedgarters. 

The buggy bumped over somehow, and they got _en route_ again, the roadwinding through woods golden in the setting sun. Occasionally a raccoon, playing about the trunks of trees, beguiled the loneliness of the way; ora strange bird, with harsh note, but gay plumage, flashed across theirtrack. Colonel Rolleston, however, was not so much entranced as hischildren at discovering that the road stopped at the hotel on the lake, not coming within half-a-mile of his new property, and that they mustembark and cross over in boats to Lyndon's Landing, as it was called, after the former occupants. 

The evening was calm, and the sunset dyed their sail redly as itfloated the barque lazily across the slumbering lake to their port atthe bottom of a sloping lawn. The path, winding up hill, led them to asylvan-looking lodge, where, instead of a bell, hung a hunting-horn. 

Cecil executed a sonorous blast, but dropped it hastily, it beinganswered almost simultaneously by an ancient menial left in charge. Theirown servants were coming on by coach, and they were much comforted byperceiving that this provident person had prepared a substantial repast, combining supper and tea, in a small, snug room. 

The young people rushed about on a tour of inspection, and found plentyto satisfy their curiosity. The hall, to begin with was filled withtrophies of the chase--antlers of moose, stuffed aquatic birds, Indianspears, and strange carving. A long, low, narrow room opened on it, inwhich were chairs of the weirdest description, fashioned out of boughs ofthe forest nailed together almost in their natural shapes. The late ownerwas a man of eccentric and various accomplishments, and his handiworkappeared in every detail of the house. 

Pictures from his brush were on the walls; of the lake in everymood--stormy and slumbering, golden sunsets, and tempest-torn clouds, acanoe stealing through the rice, a flight of wild ducks overhead, and oneswirling down to the gun of its occupant; again, the lake frozen over, and a sleighing party careering upon it. 

There was a screen of his carving, and two or three couches, the lattermore comfortable than the rest of the furniture, being covered with mooseand seal skins. Other skins were stretched on the floor. The table-legs, like the chairs, were made of fantastic branches of wood, having ratherthe effect of antlers when visible under the embroidered cloths, probablythe production of the squaws in the Indian village. Mr. Lyndon was thearchitect of the villa itself, and his whimsical fancy came out in everydetail. Long, rambling passages squandered space, while queer-shapedrooms appeared up and down steps, and in unexpected places and corners, as if squeezed in by an afterthought, yet the humblest commanded a prettyview. Many of the ceilings were decorated with Cupids, Mermaids, andDryads carelessly painted in, apparently the resource of wet afternoons. 

Colonel Rolleston's voice summoned them from these attractive rooms tosupper, and certainly the _menu_ was varied enough to suit all tastes. 

Prairie-hens and snipe were flanked with Indian corn, salsify, maplesugar, and cocoa-nut cakes; tea at one end, and a disipated-lookingbottle of "old rye" at the other. But hasty justice was done to thisrepast by Lola and Freddy, who were dying to go down to the landing, andwitness the disembarkation of their sisters, and introduce them to theirdiscoveries; so soon as the boat was descried, they flew down withColonel Rolleston, waving a flag hastily caught up in the hall. 

Mrs. Rolleston and Cecil went to arrange the distribution of bed-rooms, the latter choosing for herself a queer little triangular nook in agable. Perhaps she perceived that a room of less modest proportions wouldinevitably have to be shared with Bluebell. It might have been awatchtower from the extent of its view, which swept the lake up to theIndian village. 

The children below were full of the stories the boatman had told them. That black island there was called "Long Island, " and the other, withscarcely any trees, "Spate" or "Spirit Island, " because it was theburying-ground of the Indians. Another was "Sheepback, " from its shape, and full of poisoned ivy, which, if accidentally touched, infected theblood, and caused swelling like erysipelas. 

The younger ones, with Cecil and Bluebell, were too restless to stayin the lamp-lit room they had supped in, but wandered about, finallysettling in the long drawing-room, where they could watch from thewindows the moon silvering the lake, and the antlered furniture throwingstrange shadows on the floor. 

Then Bluebell sang the "Lorelei, " and Cecil invented legends for thelake, till, their rooms being at last prepared, the old nurse swoopeddown on her charges, and bore them away from the domain of Undines tothat of Nod. 

Colonel Rolleston had soon exhausted the resources of his new purchase, and duck-shooting having not yet begun, he went down to Quebec, takingCecil with him, for an excursion up the Saguenay. She was ratherunwilling to go, for, though the elders got tired of a place withoutroads, she was perfectly content to be all day long in her canoe, fishing, sketching, reading, or picnicing with the children on theisland. But perhaps her strongest reason for not wishing to absentherself was the continual expectation of Du Meresq's appearance. 

They had had no tidings of him since they had settled at the lake; butnearly all Bertie's advents were sudden and without warning. From hernook in the gable she commanded the hotel landing, and few boats left itwithout being reconnoitred through Cecil's binocular. 

But then the Colonel wanted a companion, and was convinced it would bedelightful for Cecil; so she prepared to go with well-assumed expressionsof pleasure, devoutly hoping that no such _contretemps_ as Bertie wastingany days of his leave by coming in her absence might befall. 

To be sure, as she was in correspondence with him, nothing, apparently, was easier than to mention her intended trip, which, of course, wouldprevent his choosing that time to come to the lake; but it happened thatCecil had written last, and since a certain fatal speech, which even nowmaddened her to remember, she had been very particularly careful to lethim make all the running. Still, not wishing to be left in the darkshould he arrive during her absence, she said, carelessly, --"I hope, mamma, you will write now and then, and let us know how you are gettingon in this dear little place. "

"Really, " returned Mrs. Rolleston, smiling, no _arrière pensée_ havingstruck her, --"I more depend on hearing from you. Bluebell can write herfishing experiences, and how often they have tea on the islands; but allI expect to do is to travel over a good deal of my point-lace flouncebefore you return. "

While Cecil went away to put on her travelling dress, as sometimeshappens, the true bearing of the speech flashed on her; and when herstep-daughter returned, arrayed _en voyageuse_, Mrs. Rollestonconsiderately remarked, --"How dull I shall be without you! I think I'llwrite to Bertie;" and the quick, grateful glance of intelligence inCecil's eyes encouraged her to say much more in that letter than shewould otherwise have done. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

CALF LOVE. 

 I gat my death frae twa sweet een, Twa lovely een o' bonnie blue; 'Twas not her golden ringlets bright, Her lips like roses wet wi' dew-- Her graceful bosom lily white-- It was her een sae bonnie blue. --Scotch Song. 

The arrival of the Rolleston family created a good deal of interest inthe limited society of the lake, and not entirely of a friendly nature. Needless to say, the adolescent members of it were all more or lessengaged to each other, which, being rather the result of propinquity thanuncontrollable preference, the maidens noticed with angry surprise theadmiration excited in the bosoms of their swains by the apparition ofBluebell on their hitherto uninvaded waters. Alec Gough and BernardLumley, both morally placarded "engaged, " having, as a matter of course, plighted their troth to two neighbouring fledglings, were wild for anintroduction; and no sooner did Bluebell's canoe leave Lyndon's Landing, than two corresponding ones were sure to shoot out, apparently actuatedby the same persuasion that there was no more likely place for a fishthan the snag round which she was trolling, and ready to gaff amaskinonge, or help to land an obdurate bass, if occasion offered. 

Any such incident might have commenced an acquaintance, were it not thatMiss Prosody, with a boatful of children, was never far off, and had ascaring and terrifying effect. 

Bluebell rather despised very young men. Still, she was not insensible toadmiration, and was quite aware of these two young aborigines followingin her wake as surely as a gull in that of a vessel. 

One day Alec Gough was able to render her some slight assistance, herline being obstinately entangled in the snag; but Miss Prosody sternlybrought up the boatman to complete the service, and bowed off theinterloper with such extreme severity, that Bluebell could not resistbestowing a coquettish and dangerously grateful glance, which set hisheart bumping, and instantaneously obliterated the image of hissandy-haired little love. 

It was too bad of Alec, for he had been engaged a year, and had alreadycleared (he was a lumberer) space enough in the backwoods to start afarm, and he was now on a short visit to his betrothed to report progressand pursue his suit. So he had no business to get his heart entangledwith the line, and his legitimate affections disengaged with the stringhe was clearing, under Circe's azure eyes; and why need he, in thattactless manner, talk of her at tea as "The Lady of the Lake"? which, ifsuch a senseless _sobriquet_ was worth having at all, Miss Janet Cameronconsidered she had an indisputable right to, for could she not row, swim, dive, and paddle with the best?

Then again, after tea, he actually stole out in his canoe, mutteringsomething about "looking for ducks, " to which Bernard Lumley gallantlyremarked that he "needn't leave home to find them. " He certainly _did_take a gun, but was also provided with a little flageolet, the companionof his lonely life in the woods; and waiting till nightfall, by the lightof a waning moon, this absurd and reprehensible young lumberer paddledhimself off to Lyndon's Landing. 

There he carefully reconnoitred the house, wondering which could beBluebell's casement. The insensible building afforded no hint, so hepulled out his "howling stick, " as Bernard called it, and timorouslybreathed forth a lay of love, which certainly must have been first cousinto the one that encompassed the extinction of the cow. 

The inmates were apparently asleep, and Alec, getting bolder, playedevery suggestive air he could think of. I don't know whether he expectedBluebell would open the window and enter into conversation; but, in pointof fact, the lattice under which he was serenading was Mrs. Rolleston's, who not particularly expecting any lovers, was sleeping the sleep of thejust far too soundly to be disturbed by it. 

There being no policeman to direct him to "move on, " Alec continued hisdismal repertory till he was tired, and then paddled off, not whollydiscouraged, as he hoped that Bluebell, though she would make no sign, might have been secretly listening to, even watching him, and consciousof the admiration he sought to convey. 

The Lake families called within the next few days. Bluebell did notappear when the Camerons, mother and daughter, came; and, as Mrs. Rolleston happened to say _her_ daughter was away, they were quitemystified as to whom the dangerous stranger could be. Then Coey andCrickey Palmer came with their mother's cards; and as at that timeBluebell was present, reading to Mrs. Rolleston, they naturally took herfor one of the daughters, and made acquaintance after the manner ofgirls; and, I have no doubt, had Bluebell committed a murder andabsconded next day, either of these young ladies could have given a morecomplete and accurate description of her person than detectives aregenerally furnished with. Notwithstanding the reluctant admiration thatthe inspection resulted in, Coey (Bernard's affianced) heroically hoped, as she rose to take leave, that Miss Rolleston would spend the afternoonand stay to tea the following day. 

Mrs. Rolleston glanced at Bluebell, who was rather dimpling at theprospect of a change, and carelessly replied that "her daughter was atTadousac, but that her young friend Miss Leigh would be very happy. "

I suppose she was, for she certainly was rather solicitous about hertoilette for the occasion--only an innocent brown-holland dress; but twohours were spent in knotting up some wicked blue bows for throat andhair, and re-trimming her gipsy hat with the same shade. It is, ofcourse, an undoubted fact that women dress for their own satisfactiononly, and in accordance with their instincts of "the true and thebeautiful;" so it would be mere hypercritical carping to suspect coquetryof lurking in the deft folds of that unpretending blue ribbon, or that, in the face of her _grande passion_ for Du Meresq, she could for a momentoccupy herself with the foolish admiration of Alec and Bernard. 

Well, Bluebell is our heroine, and we must make the best of her, --to somepeople admiration never does come amiss; and if a demure _oeillade_ canplay the mischief with the too inflammable of the rougher sex, I don'tknow who is to be held accountable except the father of lies. 

"Palmer's Landing" was a less original building than Lyndon's but on amore accessible side of the lake. The establishment and furniture were ofthe rough-and-ready order. When a too independent help, finding hermistress didn't suit, gave herself an hour's warning, and went up North, Coey or Crickey would resignedly cook the family meals till anopportunity arrived to get another, and as, in addition to thoseoccasional calls upon them, they were their own dressmakers, they hadless time to get discontented with the monotony of the lake than mightotherwise have been the case. 

Bluebell was taken round by the two girls to visit their garden andpoultry-yard. The latter was a source of profit, as they supplied thehouse, and drove hard bargains with their mother for the chickens andeggs. She also was shown their own room, and the rose-wreathed, greentarlatane, which Miss Crickey explained with conscious pride she was towear at a city assembly next week. "I am to stay with my uncle--he has alarge dry-good-store at ----, but he lives on Brock. " She was also warnedoff trespassing by the full account of Coey's engagement, and by thattime Bernard had arrived to escort the girls for a ramble in the woods. 

Crickey, on the principle of doing as she would be done by, marchedBluebell on in front, so that the others might linger behind, and makelove upon the usual pattern. It was customary at the lake for to tucktheir _fiancées_ under their arm, and cast incessant sheep's eyes atthem, much conversation was not _de rigueur_. 

Bernard, however, was somewhat discontented: he thought there wereinnumerable opportunities for that kind of thing; so his eyes wanderedfrom the face of his love to Bluebell's round waist and waving hair. Instead of incessantly squeezing her arm, he barely held it, and finallydropped it to remove a briar from the skirt of his distractor. 

Bluebell smiled with her big blue eyes, perhaps more gratefully than theservice demanded, which encouraged the youth to commence conversation. The few platitudes he attempted might have been the most sparkling witfrom the animation with which they were received. Surprised to findhimself so agreeable, he lingered by her side. Crickey, expecting himevery minute to fall back, remained by Bluebell, so poor Coey trudgedbehind, and began to experience what jealousy was. 

After a while, the others tried to bring her into the conversation byappeals to her opinion, but Coey was not to be so easily propitiated, andreturned austere answers. 

Then Bernard, thinking he might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, became all the more engrossed with his captivator, and it was in at oneof strong discontent that he exclaimed, as they were returning, --"Why, there's Alec and Janet Cameron coming down to the house!"

Their unexpected arrival was rather a relief to the Palmer girls, Bluebell only saw more mischief before her, but Bernard's impatience atthe sight of Alec whose motive for coming he easily guessed, was quiteundisguised. 

The latter accounted for himself by saying "that Janet wished to makeMiss Rolleston's acquaintance, and, therefore, he had accompanied her. "

"Oh, I am not Miss Rolleston, " said Bluebell, "I am the governess. "

"I have had the advantage of seeing the governess, " said Alec, demurely, "and she is old enough to be your mother. "

"But I am the musical one and Freddy is my pupil entirely. "

"Are you really?" said he, brightening "Then you _like_ music?"

"I am sure that is not a necessary consequence, " said Bluebell, rathermystified by the meaning tone of his voice, but Alec, believing she hadheard his nocturnal serenade and assuming a secret understanding on thestrength of it, lingered by her side talking in an undertone--reallyabout nothing in particular, for, like most spoony boys, he trusted moreto his eyes than his tongue. Still it had all the effect of a flirtation, and when the girls went upstairs to prepare for tea, Bluebell foundherself quite out of court without the support of the other sex. Coey wasalready turned into a very belligerent little ring-dove, and Janetwatched her askance, for she had never before known Alec so keen aboutpartaking of tea at Palmer's Landing. Crickey, whose feelings were notso powerfully engaged, supplied her with toilette requisites, and suchconversation as hospitality demanded. 

Bluebell was rather flattered by the apprehension she excited, and, withmischievous ostentation, produced from her pocket a weapon of war in theshape of a blue ribbon, and began weaving it into her chestnut fuzz, toonaturally wavy and long to require frizettes. Coey, who was rather prettyin the white kitten style, had sparse pale hair, never properly combedover her "water fall, " as she called it, which obtruded itself like acrow's nest. This attractive peculiarity was more apparent than everto-day, the frizette having been caught by a bough in the woods. 

Bluebell observed that her decorative preparations were restricted to adab of violet-powder on her nose, and a slight application of lip-salve. "I can't let her go down such a figure, " thought she, "though she isdreadfully angry with me, " and, seizing a comb, began silently to effecta reformation in Coey's _chevelure_. 

"Oh, thank you, " said the other distantly. "Isn't it right? Never mind. Dressing is such a waste of time. "

"Hugger-muggering with Bernard is not, I suppose?" thought Bluebell, resolutely continuing her task. 

But it was Janet's turn to be angry, when, at tea that evening, utterlyoblivious of the vacant chair next herself, her faithless swainmanoeuvred into one next Bluebell. 

"Are you fond of music by moonlight?" he took the first opportunity ofwhispering. 

"I like it anywhere, " replied she, innocently. "I can't say I ever heardit by moonlight. "

Much discomfited, Alec gazed incredulously, and then burst out laughing. 

Bluebell naturally inquired what she had said to amuse him; but he evadedthe question, as Janet was evidently listening. Later on, when the formerwas at the piano, and he pretending to turn over, he whispered, --"Iwonder under whose window I was making such a lovely noise the othernight?"

"How should I know? And why did you do it?"

"I wanted to give you a welcome to the Lake; but perhaps I serenaded thatvinegar-faced governess instead. "

Bluebell was playing rather a pathetic sonata; but the time got decidedlyerratic, as she stared bewildered at Alec, and then went off into a fitof laughing. "How could you be such a goose? If Colonel Rolleston hadbeen at home, he would have fired his ten-shooter at you. "

"Tell me which is your window, " he whispered, "and I'll give you plentyof music by moonlight. I hope it is the one with the balcony. "

"Why?"

"Because, " said Alec, audaciously, "you would look so beautiful steppingout on it, like Julia in 'Guy Mannering. ' And we could talk, you know. "

"Very well, " said Bluebell, who opined it was about time to shut him up. "Suppose we refer it to Miss Cameron. I understand your heart andaccomplishments are all made over to her. Perhaps she would assist atthe balcony scene!"

Alec bit his lip, and looked rather ashamed. Such a rebuff would not haveembarrassed Bertie, nor awakened in him a slumbering conscience, as itdid in this young lumberer, who was ridiculous enough to be in earnest inhis infidelity. 

But Bluebell, knowing she had no quarter to expect from the girls if shereturned to them now, was far from wishing to bring him to a sense of hisduty before the evening was over, so smiled as engagingly as ever, andcontinued to accept his attentions, till Janet, fizzing in high dudgeon, announced her intention of going home, which, of course, involved theescort of her recreant young man. 

"Wait here a quarter of an hour, " whispered Alec to Bluebell, "and I willrun back and row you home. "

"Gracious, no!" said she, with rather the sensation of a child who hasbeen sent out to spend the afternoon and has misbehaved. "Here is Mrs. Rolleston's servant come for me. Go back with Miss Janet and make it up, for I am never going to speak to you again, "--and she turned away to makeher adieux to Mrs. Palmer, a motherly-looking old lady, who had beennodding half asleep on the sofa all the time. 

"Such a charming musical evening--such a treat!" said she, brisking up, and quite unaware of what had been passing round her the last two hours. 

"Miss Leigh was quite untireable, " sneered Janet. "One could not have_asked_ her to exert herself so much. "

"Must you really go?" interposed Crickey, fearing now the music was overthe harmony might cease also. 

Bluebell pleaded a promise to return early. 

"I am sorry to be the means of taking away any attraction that might haveinduced you to stay, " put in Janet, determined to give her "one" beforeshe went. 

"Thank you, " said Bluebell, sweetly, declining to understand; "but Icould scarcely expect you to stay to amuse me. "

"That, I feel sure, would be quite out of my power!" said the other, benton provocation; and Crickey nervously dragged Bluebell away to get herhat. 

Alec lingered till she was fairly off, fearing that Bernard would try andescort her home. He, however, was thoroughly sulky at the way Gough hadmonopolized her the whole evening, and was quite as ready as Coey topronounce her an arrant flirt; which so mollified the latter, that when, a few days later, she and her sister were asked to return Bluebell'svisit at Lyndon's Landing, she accepted without the slightest hesitation, in a perfectly charitable frame of mind. 

Alec and Janet, of course, quarrelled going home; but it being not thefirst time by a good many, it blew over without a rupture, the gentleman, for the future, cautiously avoiding Bluebell's name, though he tried allhe knew to meet her alone, in which respect Fortune did not favour him;and there being no more efficient chaperons than children, with theirsharp observation and fatal habit of repetition, they might meet everyday on the blue water without his obtaining more than a saucy glance or afew commonplace words, which he would try and put as much meaning into ashe could. 

CHAPTER XX. 

THE PRINCE PHILANDER. 

 A division of souls may take place without a word being exchanged. One reminded of those mists that rise into a cool stratum of air soon to redescend in flakes of snow. .. . --Human Sadness. 

The day that the Misses Palmer were to spend at Lyndon's Landing turnedto rain in the afternoon. The children had a half-holiday, and so theweather was a double misfortune; and after "What shall we do?" had beenasked in every minor key of querulous despondency, they eventuallygrouped themselves, some sitting, some lying on buffalo robes scatteredon the floor, and demanded stories from the elder girls. From thedarkness of the sky, twilight had come earlier, and Freddy had closed thecurtains, to give greater mystery to the fairy lore they were invoking. 

Previous to this they had had a grand dressing up and a fancy ball. Crickey retained the turban and Indian table-cloth which had been her"make-up" as an "Eastern Princess. " Freddy was a wild beast; and Lola, bydint of a long pair of military boots, seal-skin gloves, and "pretendingvery much, " was "Puss in Boots. " The old nurse's cap and spectacles were, with a peaked hat, the salient points of a "Mother Hubbard. " But theywere tired of it now, and no sound was heard except the sullen moan ofthe storm on the lake, and the voice of Bluebell, half-inventing andhalf-relating from memory. 

"And so the Princess remained in the strong tower of the Giant Jealousy;for though the doors were all open, and you would suppose she had nothingto do but walk out and be free, yet if she did get a little way someinvisible power always drew her back again, after which the Giant seemedmore tormenting than ever. For no one could really release her but thePrince Philander, whom she loved, and he only by remaining true to heralone (which, perhaps, was not always the case, and that was how she hadstrayed into Castle Jealousy), and coming himself and overthrowing theGiant, who would then be instantly dissolved into smoke, and--"

But the ultimate fate of the bewitched Princess was never known, thestory being arrested by a shout from the children as they caught sightof a tall, dark figure, half-concealed by a carved screen, and even inthe dusk Bluebell discerned the expression of amused attention andhalf-satirical smile on his lips. 

"I saw him first!" cried Lola, jumping up exultingly. "He has beenstanding there ever so long, but he made me a sign not to tell. "

"I wanted to hear Miss Leigh's story, " interposed Bertie; "but it isonly the plain Princesses _that_ Giant gets hold of, and then the fairyPrinces are too busy with the beauties ever to come and rescue them!"

Bluebell was almost unnerved by the surprise of his unlooked-forappearance. A real Prince Philander had come at her invocation; whetherhe was to overthrow the Giant, or strengthen his hands, remained to beproved. 

She had a dim impression of presenting him to the Misses Palmer with amortified recollection of her own absurd "make-up, " and then sat down, quite faint from the uncontrollable beating of her heart. 

Perhaps it was to relieve her he was so amiably making conversation withCoey and Crickey; and exceedingly well they were getting on, she began tothink, recovering rather rapidly when not the object of any particularattention. 

"And you have been shut up here all day without any exercise?" she heardhim say. "That's very bad. Suppose we play hide-and-seek and run aboutall over the house;" and, clamorously supported by the children, themotion was carried, and the game commenced. 

Bluebell, who was under the influence of strong feeling, thought it mostsickening folly, and wished that Mrs. Rolleston would come in and stopit; but she was charitably reading to a sick fisherman close by, and, perhaps, weather bound. Miss Prosody was taking a peaceful afternoonsnooze; and if she did hear the scampering about the house, they were notunaccustomed sounds on a wet day. 

It had struck Bluebell that the game might have been a _ruse_ of DuMeresq's to get a word with her in private; but Estelle came up in fitsof laughing, to tell her that Bertie and Crickey were hid together in thecupboard. This was too much, and she walked coldly downstairs and out ofthe game. 

Coey went in search of her sister, who bounded down directly after with avery red face; and soon Mrs. Rolleston came in, full of exclamations andinquiries. 

Du Meresq said, --"He and Lascelles had got a week's leave, and had cometo the hotel for some duck-shooting. "

"And Cecil won't be back till Thursday, " said Mrs. Rolleston, regretfully. 

The significance of this remark was not lost upon Bluebell, who stole afurtive glance at Bertie's face. 

"I thought I had got to an enchanted hall, " said he. "I daren't wind thehorn lest I should fall under the spell. The portal yielded to my touch, and I entered the first room, where conceive my surprise to see, fantastically dressed, and reclining in Eastern fashion on skins andcushions, a galaxy of beauty. They were silent, too, except one, who, ina hushed, mysterious, voice, was improvising an allegory. "

"In short, " said Mrs. Rolleston, in a matter-of-fact tone, "the childrenwere dressed up and telling stories. " She began to wonder where MissProsody could be. It was no use Bertie prejudicing his chance with Cecilby getting up an idle flirtation with these Lake young ladies, who werealready blushing so ridiculously at him; and would have been furtherconfirmed in this conviction had she guessed that ten minutes ago he hadtried to kiss one of them in a cupboard. 

She offered him a bed, but willingly accepted his excuse that Lascelleswas all alone, and he had promised to go back, but would bring him todinner next night. And then he went away through the rain, and Bluebellwas left with her thoughts. 

Well she had never pictured such a meeting as that! And how disagreeableit had all been. Of course she did not mind his not having paid her muchattention before the children, who repeated everything, but to go on inthat silly romping away with Crickey was ineffably disgusting. She didnot at all recognise it as a poetical justice on her for tampering withother people's lovers a few days before, but mentally denounced thatyoung person as bold and unlady like to the last degree. 

The evening continued so stormy, that Mrs. Rolleston kept the girls allnight, and Bluebell, much against her will, had to entertain them, whichwas the more irksome as they were both expiring with curiosity aboutBertie, and could talk of nothing but his extraordinary behaviour. Crickey hadn't even the sense to keep his impertinence in the cupboard toherself, and Bluebell, who had only suspected before, was provoked intothe most trenchant expressions of condemnation. 

"How could I help it?" asked Crickey, indignantly. "How should I know hewould be so impudent?"

"Why need you have got into the cupboard with him?" said Bluebell. "It isjust what you might have expected, in fact, it was inviting it. "

"It wasn't, " said Crickey, almost crying, for she had previously beeninclined to take it as a tribute to her charms. "Freddy and Estelle hadhid there before, and Captain Du Meresq said it was the best place in thehouse. "

"For that, no doubt, " began the other. But Coey came to her sister'sassistance with a Biblical allusion to the mote and the beam, andBluebell saw that if personalities were to be avoided, they had bettergo downstairs at once. So the party of ladies passed a quiet sleepyevening, --Mrs. Rolleston mentally resolving not to encourage those girlsabout the house while Du Meresq was at the lake, and wishing she couldexpedite Cecil's return. How much more danger there was from Bluebell shenever suspected, Bertie had been so very cautious. 

As they went up to bed, Crickey, who had become rather sobered by thedull evening, entreated Bluebell not to mention the cupboard scene inhide-and-seek, which was impatiently promised. To think that she shouldbe asked to keep any girl's secret about Bertie! "And now, " thought thepoor bewildered child, "it will be almost more difficult than ever to seehim alone, and I must ask him if there _is_ anything between him andCecil. " For that seed of bitterness sown by Lilla had borne "Dead Seafruit"; and, much as she struggled against the hateful idea, it reallyseemed the only clue to Bertie's inconsistencies. 

The next day Mrs. Rolleston had some letters, and reading oneattentively, she threw it over to Bluebell. "You didn't seem to care forthis some weeks ago, but you see you can think twice of it. I _did_ writerather enthusiastically about your music, which, really, is too good tobe wasted on my children, and the result is Mrs. Leighton is quite wildto have you. "

A singular expression flitted over the girl's face as she mechanicallytook the letter--it was only to gain time, she wasn't reading it; and thelarge salary and kind promises of a happy home took no effect on hermind. 

She was thinking of Du Meresq. Suppose he was only trifling with her, andall those warm protestations of affection were really to end in nothing!She might even have to see him married to Cecil! The thought wasunendurable, yet it was possible; and, if so, how could she remain withthe Rollestons? And it would be almost as bad as returning to thecottage, once "so rich with thoughts of him. " Chance had thrown Du Meresqagain in her path, and she was determined to find out the truth. Chancealso offered her this retreat, which would put the ocean between them ifhe failed her, and then no distance could be too great for her wishes. 

"Can you give me till the mail after next to decide?" said she, as shearrived at this point of decision. 

"Oh, of course, " said Mrs. Rolleston, smiling at the almost tragic toneof resolution in which it was uttered. "You will have to consult yourmother, and she might not wish you to go to England. Why child, how paleyou are!"

Bluebell forced a wintry smile and escaped, for a lump was rising in herthroat, and she could not but remember that she must expect no sympathyor support from Mrs. Rolleston, who had once said, "It would be a mostunsuitable connection. " She passed the day in reviewing the situation. This was the first time she had ever been called on to think seriouslyand painfully, and act for herself without a friendly word to supporther. Perhaps Du Meresq's behaviour the day before had not a little bracedher to the energetic course she had determined on. It was, indeed, noeasy task to extort from a man who professed so much the simple questionin black and white which could alone give value to his addresses. With nowitnesses present, she had little doubt that he would be as ardent alover as ever; but that would no longer satisfy her. She had arranged herplan, and relied on two feelers to settle the matter one way or theother. 

The first was to repeat to Bertie what Lilla had said about himself andCecil, and then judge of the effect of her words. If unsatisfactory, shemight tell him she was going to take a situation in England, "and if hemakes no effort to stop _that_, it will, indeed, be over, and I will go, "was the necessary conclusion. 

Du Meresq and his friend, Captain Lascelles, came to dinner. Wereeither to die, exchange, or marry, the other would doubtless feel muchinconvenienced, not to say injured. In England, their hunters, rooms atNewmarket, stall at the Opera, or whatever would bear division, were alljoint-stock affairs; and either would, with perfect cordiality, have lentthe other money, which a long unpaid tradesman would have foundexceedingly hard to extract from him. 

Both were unquiet spirits in the regiment, abhorring the monotony ofdrill and stables, and insatiable for leave. Yet on field-days, eventheir most pipe clay of colonels admitted that there was no smarterturned out troop than Lascelles', and no better squadron leader than DuMeresq. 

The party was so small at dinner that conversation became pretty general. Captain Lascelles at first tried to be _au mieux_ with the only younglady present; but he didn't make much way, and began to think her ratherstupid, and to wish that those lively girls his friend Bertie had toldhim of would swim or paddle themselves across. To Bluebell the eveningwas little short of purgatory. Never had she known Du Meresq so altered. Scarcely a sentence had passed between them, and his manner wasconventional and guarded. Formerly he had been equally cautious inpublic, yet they were always _en rapport_, and some slight glance wascertain to be exchanged in assurance of it. 

This night she knew from internal consciousness that they were not, and that a palpable change had taken place. Her heroic resolutions ofthe morning passed away in inconsistent and impotent longing for oneword or gesture to break down this impenetrable wall that seemed to havearisen between them, and to recall the old happy love-making days. Mrs. Rolleston asked her to sing. A bird robbed of its nest could not havefelt more disinclined, yet she would try, though her voice soundedstrange to herself, and was harsh and wiry. 

Du Meresq wondered what had jarred those silvery tones, and stolen themelody from the voice he had once thought almost seraphic. Music, andespecially Bluebell's, had ever a potent charm for him. She had abandonedthe song at the end of the verse, and glided without stopping, into aninstrumental piece. There was a subdued hum of voices, but Bertie's wasnot among them, and Bluebell knew he was listening as of old. She hadarranged some variations to their favourite valse, and some impulse madeher select that. Keeping the subject cautiously back, and only allowingsuggestions of it to steal into the modulations, it seemed like fugitivesnatches of an air borne on a gust of wind, and overcome by nearersounds, --the breeze in the trees, the tinkle of sheep-bells, the brawlingof a brook. 

Bertie listened curiously, thought he had caught the air, lost it, anddoubted, till he recognised, in the mocking melody that continuallyeluded him, the valse he had so often danced with Bluebell. He shot oneglance of intelligence at her as she finished, but Lascelles, who couldnot bear the piece, was so loud in admiration, and found so much to sayabout it, that Du Meresq could not have got in a word had he wished it. 

Bluebell turned impatiently away, and snatching up some work, went to asecluded part of the room, under cover of requiring a shaded lamp there. "If there is any truth in magnetic attraction, " thought she, "CaptainLascelles shall not come near me, and Bertie shall. " She excluded everyother thought from her mind, and _willed_ steadily. Du Meresq becamerestless, rose from his chair, and stood aimlessly looking at somethingon a table. Bluebell continued her mesmeric efforts, every fibrequivering. He was coasting in her direction; in another instant he wouldbe close, and have sat down on the sofa by her. Then she looked up, andtheir eyes met and mingled. It might have been for half-an-hour to heroverwrought sensations; the past was forgotten, --she was gazing in atrance. What impelled Mrs. Rolleston at that moment to say, --"I heardfrom Cecil this afternoon, Bertie, and if they catch the boat at ----, they will be here to-morrow evening?"

The passionate eyes drowning themselves in the love light of Bluebell'sbecame thoughtful and colder. The spell was broken. Du Meresq turnedaway, and began talking to his sister about the expected travellers. 

The reaction was painful as the killing of a nerve, and the cause of itso cruel, that she made no attempt to endure it. A swift glance roundshowed her she was unobserved, and springing to the door, she fled fromthe room, to weep out her blue eyes in senseless, hopeless repining. 

No one noticed her exit but Lascelles, who, going through his social_devoirs_ with mechanical propriety, had his powers of observation quitedisengaged. 

"I can't make the girl out, " he soliloquized. "She is aggravatinglypretty, plays very uncanny, unpleasant music, and looks at me with aboutas much interest as if I had called to tune the piano or regulate theclocks. I wonder if she is expected to go to bed at ten! I fancy there isa very stringent code of rules for a companion. She was sitting in such anice inviting corner, to. Du Meresq seemed sloping off for a spoon; butwhen he doubled back, and I was just ready to bear down, she shot out ofthe room, like Cinderella when she had 'exceeded her pass. '"

The two friends looked in next morning. They were going in a yacht as faras the Indian village, and Bertie said if the Colonel and Cecil would belikely to have arrived, he would come in on his way back. There was somediscussion about trains and connecting boats, and a guide-book wasfruitlessly hunted for. 

"Oh, I recollect, " said Mrs. Rolleston, suddenly; "I put it in thetable-drawer in the next room, --right-hand drawer, Bertie, " as he went tofetch it. He found a little more than he sought, for there, alone, withevery appearance of being caught, was Bluebell. Du Meresq would, perhaps, have avoided the _contretemps_, had he been prepared for it. As it washe advanced towards her, and, clasping her in his arms, kissed the cheekfrom which every ray of colour had vanished, and said, tenderly, --"Whathas turned my Bluebell into a Lily?"

"I have heard something. I want to ask you a question, " came out almostmechanically. 

Du Meresq had not expected so serious an answer to a _banalite_, and hiscountenance altered. 

"Why are you so grave, Bluebell? You take life too seriously, my child. A young beauty like you need never be unhappy--only make other peopleso. "

But his theories were no longer taken as gospel. 

"Oh, I am quite happy, " said she, with an involuntary ironical infusionin her voice, "but I don't often see you alone, Bertie, and there are oneor two things I want to ask you. "

"We'll soon square that", said Du Meresq carelessly, "What do you thinkof Lascelles?"

"Think of him?" repeated Bluebell, with passion "What should I think ofhim? I don't care if he dies to morrow!"

"What, a good looking fellow like that?" said Du Meresq, jestingly, "andhe admires you awfully. " What a flash of those violet eyes--regular bluelightning! But a sudden gush of tears extinguished it, and, breaking fromhim, Bluebell rushed out of the room. 

A look of extreme annoyance came over his face and he whistledthoughtfully. Lascelles shouting his name, burst into the room. 

"Where is that book? 'His only books were women's looks, and folly allthey taught him. ' Oh Bertie I fear me you are a sly dog. "

"What the devil do you mean?" said Du Meresq with much irritation. 

"What do you? Keeping me here all day, while you are spooning the prettycompanion. She bolted out of this so quick, --nearly ran into my arms, andseemed taking on shocking. Oh, you strangely ammoral young man!"

"By Jove!" said Du Meresq, "it is lucky it was only you. Well, let us beoff now, and shut up, there's a good fellow. "

CHAPTER XXI. 

A PERILOUS SAIL. 

 Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting, The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar. --Wordsworth. 

 By this the storm grew loud apace, The water wraith was shrieking, And in the scowl of heaven each face Grew dark as they were speaking. --Campbell. 

There was a bright moon that evening, and Colonel Rolleston and hisdaughter were crossing the lake. A yacht passed them, sailing rapidlybefore the wind. Some one on board took his hat off. 

"Who was that?" asked Cecil. 

"It was very like Lascelles, " said the Colonel. "I wonder what he isdoing up here. "

Cecil's colour rose. The name of Lascelles suggested Bertie. She knewthey usually hunted in couples, and her busy mind was alive withconjecture. She wondered if the same idea had occurred to her father. Shethought he looked a shade grimmer; but he smoked his cigar in silence, and a few more pulls from the sinewy arm of the boatman shot them intoLyndon's Landing. And then it all seemed to Cecil as if the same scenehad been enacted in a previous state of existence. Where before had sheseen his dark figure thrown out just so by the moonlight? Certainly notin a dream. Could one's life be repeated? She almost felt, by an exertionof _memory_, she might tell what was coining next. 

A deep, calm satisfaction stole over her as Bertie helped her from theboat, and his eyes sought hers under the stars. She heeded not thatColonel Rolleston's greeting was apparently cool and formal, nothingsignified--life had suddenly become intense again. What could ruffle thegolden content of the present? Happiness is a great beautifier, and asshe sprang to shore, her graceful figure so undulating and spirited, andher soul beaming warm in her radiant eyes, he wondered that he could everhave thought Bluebell more beautiful. She often recurred to him hereafterjust as she stood that night, shrouded in a crimson Colleen Bawn, undercover of which her hand remained so long in his. 

Du Meresq did not stay very late. Both he and Cecil were quiet anddreamy. To be in the same room again was quite happiness enough for thepresent. Mrs. Rolleston also was entirely satisfied, diverted herhusband's attention with creature comforts, and made no effort to detainBertie. Given a love affair, and a certain interest in it, the mostunscheming nature becomes Macchiavellian in tact and policy. 

And Du Meresq unmoored a canoe and paddled himself off, unwitting of ayoung, desolate face pressed against an upper casement. From thence shehad watched him waiting for Cecil at the landing, and, with eyessharpened by anxiety, had detected their happiness in meeting. She couldnot go down to receive confirmation of what required none. Better receivethe _coup de grâce_ from his own lips than to undergo gradual vivisectionwhile looking helplessly on. 

Bluebell was young and credulous, her heart had been flattered away bythis man, who had had so many before and did not want it now, and yet, poor child, could she have looked beyond, she might have seen cause forthankfulness that the thing most hotly desired was withheld for thisearly love had not root enough for the wear and tear of life. It was ahob day romance, born of the senses, the bewildering fascination of agraceful presence and winning voice, and well for her if her guardianangel stood with even a flaming sword in the way. 

The two girls did not meet till the morning, when Cecil, preoccupied asshe was, could not but notice the blanched weariness of Bluebell's facewhich, owing a great deal of its beauty to colouring, appeared bycontrast almost plain. 

"You should have come up the Saguenay with us. I am sure Rice Lakecannot agree with you, " said she, launching into a glowing and graphicdescription of their adventures. In reality, Cecil had detested the wholeexpedition, having been in a continual fever to return; but, now that hermind was at ease, memory brought out the notable points in a surprisingway, and she quite talked herself into believing that she had enjoyed itimmensely, and had witnessed everything with the utmost relish andcuriosity. 

They were sitting in the garden over-looking the lake, and a tinysail shot out from the hotel landing and stood towards them. A lightstole over the face of the brunette, but the features of the blondebecame rigid as they marked its progress. Neither alluded to thecircumstance--Cecil continued her narrative, and Bluebell made therequisite replies; but when the boat had made Lyndon's Landing, and DuMeresq and Lascelles jumped out, Cecil found she was receiving themalone. 

The latter was come on a farewell call. The two friends meant to sail toa railway station five miles up the lake, where Lascelles would take thecar, and Du Meresq bring the canoe back. After a short visit, Mrs. Rolleston and Cecil strolled down to see them off. 

"I have never tried the canoe with a sail up, " remarked the latter. "Withthis wind it must be absolutely flying. "

"Not quite so dry, " said Lascelles, laughing. "Du Meresq is such aduffer; he ships a lot of water. "

"Cecil, " said Bertie, giving a pre-conceived idea the air of an_impromptu_, "come up to Coonwood with us; it's lovely scenery all theway, and I should have a companion back. "

"What do you say, mamma; may I go?" dropping her eyes and speaking in anindifferent voice, to disguise her delight in the anticipation. 

"May I go?" mimicked Lascelles to himself. "Bertie is always sacrificingme to some girl or other. She will swamp the boat, --it's within an inchof the water already with my portmanteau, --and very likely make me missmy train, or get wet through pulling her out. " This in soliloquy, but helooked courteous and smiling. 

Mrs. Rolleston hesitated; in her heart she acquiesced; but what would theColonel say? The younger ones took silence for consent, and Cecil wasreclining on a bear-skin at the bottom of the canoe, Lascelles kneelingin a cramped attitude, with the steering paddle, in the bow, and Bertiein charge of the sail, before words of prohibition could come from her. 

"Dear me! I don't half like it, " said she, nervously. "How stormy itlooks in the west. How long will it take you?"

"We shall have the wind back, " said Bertie. "About two hours and ahalf--three at the outside. I'll bring her home in good time fordinner, "--and Cecil kissed her hand in laughing defiance while he spreadthe sail to the wind, and, catching the light breeze after a flap or two, they glided gaily on their course. 

"Don't move about, Cecil, " said Du Meresq; "we are rather low down in thewater. "

No one knew better than Cecil, who had quite appreciated the small spiceof risk in weighting the frail bark with an additional person; but thenit was worth it to sail back alone with Bertie. 

"You are getting dreadfully wet, I am afraid, Miss Rolleston, " saidLascelles. "Ease the sail a bit, Bertie. "

"You shouldn't keep her head to the waves, " argued the other, "as if itwere a boat. Keep her broadside to them, and we shan't ship half somany. "

There was a fresh breeze when they left the landing, but, after gettingthree miles or so on their way, the wind rose almost into a squall; whitehorses raced on the lake, and, in spite of every effort of the two youngmen, about one wave in ten flung a curl of spray over Cecil. Bertie threwoff his coat, and made her thrust her arms into it as well as she could, and Lascelles followed suit by spreading his over her knees. The skybecame stormier, and the wind howled ominously. They had started full ofspirits, and gay talk and chaff had been bandied among them. No one couldquite tell when it dropped, for it had been kept up with an effort afterthe threatening appearance of things had sobered them. 

Cecil was drenched to the skin, but they ceased to express solicitude onthat account, for a more pressing apprehension filled each mind, that thecanoe so weighted could not live through it much longer. 

The girl was stiffening in the rigidity of her reclining attitude. Theleast movement would have capsized them, and each wave larger than therest she expected to swamp the canoe. Suddenly she remembered Du Meresqhaving once said he could not swim, and then, for the first time, herheart sunk, and a sickening horror came over her. 

Lascelles, she supposed, in the event of their being upset, wouldendeavour to save her. But Bertie! He would drown before her eyes, forthe water was deep, and the shore for some time had been only a nearlyperpendicular rock. Probably Lascelles so laden might be unable to landeven her. Looking upon Du Meresq as doomed, that contingency did notdisturb her. Drowning, she had heard, was a pleasant death. It didn'tlook so though, with that cruel steel water lapping thirstily for itsprey. After the one supreme moment when she sunk with her love, wouldthey rise again in the land where there is neither marrying nor giving inmarriage, with the Platonic serenity of spirits, all earthly passionetherealized away?

She looked up; Lascelles was baling out the water with his hat. "DuMeresq, you had better haul down the sail and take the paddle, " said hesignificantly. 

"Our only chance is to make Coonwood, " returned the other; "there's nolanding nearer. We should never get there paddling. I must keep up thesail and run for it. "

He glanced at Cecil as he spoke, who met his eyes with a calm, strangesmile. 

A muttered consultation between Du Meresq and Lascelles alone broke thesilence for some time. The latter continued to bale, rejecting Cecil'soffer of assistance, only entreating her to continue perfectly still. Thecanoe was almost level with the water. "It must come very soon now, " shethought, and, shutting her eyes, tried to realize the great changeapproaching. 

Her favourite day-dream of sailing away to a new strange country withBertie recurred to her. What if this was to be the fulfilment of it, andthey were to explore for ever an unknown land beyond the skies! But wouldit be so? No sooner should the frail bark sink from under them than shewould feel Lascelles clutch her in a desperate grip, and be draggedthrough the water, and placed alive, though half-suffocated, on theshore. But Du Meresq would be sucked down in the blue lake, and travel tothat bourn alone. 

Cecil shuddered, and formed a rapid resolve. "Who was Lascelles that heshould separate them? Let him save himself if he thought it worth while. Whatever was Bertie's fate should be hers also. "

Thus determined, Cecil waited for the end. She had only to eludeLascelle's grasp at the critical moment, and her fate was as certain asDu Meresq's. She gave a regretful thought to her father; but he had otherchildren, and Cecil had no strong family ties. 

As she waited in a state of half exaltation, a quiet little thought creptin, --how was it, after all this time, the boat still lived? Why theycould not be far from Coonwood! Lascelles was still baling, but Bertie, from improved dexterity in the management of the sail, evaded the wavesmore successfully. 

Cecil continued to watch, and the tension of her mind yielded to aflutter of hope as she saw the water no longer gained on them. 

"We should be pretty near now, " observed Lascelles. 

"Yes, here we are!" rose in almost a shout of triumph from both, as, onrounding the point, the wished-for harbour appeared in view. With onelast effort the envious waves dashed over, drenching them through andthrough as they landed. 

"A drop more or less doesn't much matter now, " cried Cecil, gaily, wringing her dripping garments. And they all shook hands in their elationof spirits, with short expressions of relief, and congratulations attheir escape, which all confessed to have been in doubt of at one time. 

"You are a regular heroine, Miss Rolleston, " said Lascelles, heartily. "If you had jumped up, or gone into hysterics, as some girls would, weshould have gone under pretty soon. As it was, I thought I had my workcut out, for do you know that Du Meresq can't swim?"

"Yes, I know, " grudgingly, for she could not bear Bertie to be at adisadvantage. "But I am sure it is quite miraculous how he managed thesail through that squall. "

"Only if we had swamped, Lascelles must have saved you, " whispered he, regretfully; "and I would never have forgiven him!"

Cecil did not make any verbal answer, but, as usual, her face wasnot so reticent. Lascelles felt himself rather _de trop_ as heconcluded, --"Well, if they are on for a spoon already, I may as wellbe looking after my car. "

"There's your Bullgine, " cried Du Meresq, with some alacrity. "I daresayit has been there an hour: no fear of losing a train in this leisurelycountry!"

"Well, adieu, Miss Rolleston; I trust you will not suffer from yoursoaking. You will have an hour or two to wait, I am afraid, before thegale goes down, and Du Meresq will hardly fulfil his promise of gettingyou home in good time for dinner. "

"We are only too lucky to require another dinner; but I suppose we shallbe in an awful scrape, " answered Cecil, speaking quickly and nervously, for somehow she began to half dread being alone with Bertie. "Good-bye, Captain Lascelles. Here's your coat, which you were so good as to spareme; I am afraid it is not a valuable acquisition in its present spongystate;" and "Good-bye, old man, " from the two friends as Lascelles ranoff; shooting a momentary humorous glance of intelligence at Du Meresq. 

The former, as he settled himself in the locomotive, thought ratherseriously of the "situation" he had left his friend in. He ratherwondered at Bertie, who appeared dangerously in earnest this time. To besure, she was a nice enough girl, and very "coiny, " he believed; butthough convinced that such a marriage would be a piece of good fortunefor his friend, remembering the convenience of their mutual partnership, he sincerely hoped he would "behave badly, " and get out of the scrapesomehow. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

AT LAST. 

 The breeze was dead, The leaf lay without whispering in the tree; We were together. How, where, what matter? Somewhere in a dream, Drifting, slow drifting down a wizard stream. --The Wanderer. 

"It is just as well, " said Du Meresq, laughing, "we have not got to takehim back again. The experiment of three in that birchen bark is tooexpensive to repeat; and we could not throw him over as a Jonah, since heis the only one of us who can swim. "

"I ought never to have come! And, now we can think of wordly thingsagain, only fancy what a rage papa will be in about it all. It is acurious fact, Bertie, the very last time we were out together, anaccident made us late--at the tobogganing party, you know. "

They had entered the station, which appeared perfectly deserted. The lastofficial had gone up with Lascelles' train. A fire, however, was stillburning, and the coal-box only half empty. 

Du Meresq threw the coals on the waning embers, which responded with acheerful fizz to the needed aliment, and then began unlacing Cecil's wetboots as she sat before the fire. 

These two had often been alone together without the slightestembarrassment, but now, perhaps from the reaction, and being a littleunstrung, she felt a most distressing sensation of it, besides which theanti-climax of his occupation after her overwrought anticipations oftheir mutual fate, gave her an hysterical inclination to a peal oflaughter. 

He did not speak, and silence was too oppressive to be endured, so shecast about desperately for a topic of conversation. The _entourage_ wasnot particularly suggestive, --four white-washed walls and the chair shewas sitting on comprised the furniture. Clearly she could not take inideas with her eyes, which, indeed, were fixed with a magneticpersistence on the mathematically straight parting of Bertie's back hair, which would scarcely furnish subject for remark. 

"There go a ruined pair of Balmorals, " said he, placing them in thefender. "Your stockings are wet through, too; why don't you take themoff?"

"I prefer them wet, " said Cecil, rather scandalized. 

"Shall I go and walk about outside while you dry them?" asked he, with asmile. 

"Yes, do. Walk away altogether if you like. "

"But you might drown yourself going home alone, and haunt my remainingdays. 

 'They made her a grave too cold and damp For a soul so warm and true, And all night long, by a fire-fly lamp, She paddles her white canoe, '"--

quoted Bertie, jestingly. 

Cecil disliked his manner, and felt irritated; but there she was, imprisoned, bootless, in her chair, while those appendages smoked damplyin the fender. 

"Dear me, " she said, impatiently, "will that wind never drop! When shallwe be able to start, I wonder?"

"Don't you think we are more comfortable here?" said he, lazily. "Remember what a row there'll be when we get home. "

"Yes, you always get me into scrapes. Why did you bother me into thisidiotic expedition?"

"Didn't you ask me to take you?" provokingly. "I am sure I understood youwished to come. "

Cecil coloured angrily, and then burst out laughing. 

"I can't afford to quarrel with you in this disgusting desolation, itwould be like the two men in the lighthouse; but remember, sir, it goesdown to your account when I am restored to my friends. "

"The captive should not use threats. I am not intimidated. What shouldnow forbid that I whirl you away on the next car to _Ne Yock_, and marryyou right off? and then you would have to obey me ever afterwards. "

"Bertie, you forget yourself, " with great dignity and rising colour. 

"I can't help my unselfish nature. I never do think of myself. Seriously, Cecil, would it not be a good plan?"

"I hardly understand how you would effect it in broad daylight against mywill. "

"Nothing more easy. I shouldn't put you into the train till it was justgoing, and I am sure you would have too much self-respect to make adisturbance. If you did, I would point to my forehead, and shake my headexpressively. Then, probably, the guard would assist me. After we weremarried, I should shut you up for a time to reconcile you to thesituation, and by degrees, if you pleased me, I would allow you moreliberty. "

"Suppose I ran away and never returned. "

"Oh, you would always be watched, I should, perhaps, let you get a littledistance to encourage you, and then bring you back again. "

Cecil would not vouchsafe a retort. She thought Bertie's behaviour in thevery worst taste, and had never known him so little agreeable. But therethey were incarcerated, and the wind still howled. "How was it they wereso little in tune, " she wondered, "wasting time with this tactlessbadinage?" Bertie, too, whose greatest charm was his lightning perceptionof all her thoughts and feelings, could he possibly think--and here a hotglow mounted to her cheeks, which were not cooled by feeling her handsuddenly captured by Du Meresq, as he whispered in her ear, --

"As we always get into scrapes together, don't you think, Cecil, for thefuture we had better only be responsible to each other?"

"I think, " said she, flaming up at last, and her bright eyes flashingindignantly upon him, "that your conduct is idiotic and ungentlemanly:What right have you to make me the subject of your silly jokes?"

"I have made you look at me at last, " cried he, "though I am almost'blasted with excess of light. ' Dearest Cecil, you must know what I havecome to Rice Lake for, and that you can make me the happiest or mostmiserable fellow breathing. "

Bertie's eyes were glowing with earnestness, and his whole manner wasas eager as it had before been inert. Cecil was dumb from contendingemotions, love, pride, and doubt, all at war; yet a small voice in herheart kept repeating "At last!"

"You must have known my wishes ever since we parted at Montreal, " pleadedBertie. ("I was by no means so certain, " thought Cecil. ) "I could notspeak then; your father will, perhaps, think I oughtn't to now. Yet, atleast I can say honestly, will you marry me, my dearest little Cecil?"

At the asseveration, "I can say honestly, " a sudden illumination cameover her face, as if every cloud had been instantaneously swept away. 

Persons conversant with such subjects maintain that the plain words, "Iwill, " are generally first used by the bride in church, when she promisesto worship M. Or N. With her body. No doubt, Bertie was answered somehow;but as there are no reporters in Paradise, so happiness requires nochronicler, and we drop the curtain while Cecil becomes engaged to herideal and only love--a fate sufficiently uncommon in this world ofcontradictions. 

The wind was lulled to a whisper, and a golden sunset was reddening thelake, ere our lovers remembered, with a start, that they had to get home. 

"Now comes the rude awakening, " cried Du Meresq. "Dinner spoiled, and avery stern expression of paternal opinion to you, my poor Cecil. Verygrumpy to me. By Jove, I won't tell him to-night! Here's your half-bakedboots. We shall never get them on. Shall I carry you to the boat, androll your feet in the bear-skin?"

"I feel as if a hundred years had passed since we were last in thecanoe, " said Cecil, evading this obliging proposal. "But how the lake hascalmed itself down; it seems sleeping, and the shore and the islands castlong shadows on it. "

 "'Tis one of those ambrosial eves A day of storm so often leaves, "

began Bertie, with his incurable propensity for quoting. "What made youso shy at the station, Cecil? I was obliged to put you in a rage to getyou natural again. "

"After the pleasing picture you draw of our domestic felicity, I can'tthink how I ever accepted you. "

"I was just going to begin when I was unlacing your boots, but the ideastruck me that to propose holding a lady's foot instead of her hand, would be too ludicrous a variation from all precedent. What a sensitivegirl you are, Cecil! I am sure you knew what was coming, for I felt youdrawing into a shell of consciousness, that would have made me nervoustoo, if I had not been impertinent instead"

Cecil was not far from a relapse, for dreamily happy as she was, shehad already begun to torment herself. She had accepted Du Meresq soreadily, --good Heavens! she might almost say thankfully, --and, disguiseit as he might, he must know it. Could a thing be really valued that wasso easy of attainment? When Cecil was shy she was usually dumb, it neverrevealed itself by hasty, foolish speech, or an artificial laugh. Hercountenance, however, was not so silent; and Bertie, as he watched herchanging hues and varying expression, thought how much more he admiredthat mobile, sensitive face, than the pink and white of a soul-lessbeauty. 

"Where is your hand, Cecil?" stretching out a long arm to feel for it. "Iam sure a dragon of propriety might trust a loving pair in this wabblylittle craft, which an attempt at osculation would upset. "

There was just breeze enough to fill the little sail, which bore themswiftly and gently along. A pale star came out in the sky. Though dusk, it was far from dark, night in a Canadian summer being of veryabbreviated duration. The lovers had relapsed into dreamy reverie, but, as they began to approach more familiar objects, stern reality resumedits sway. Cecil was the first to give evidence of it, by saying, inrather a subdued voice, --

"Don't you think, Bertie, as you must go away to-morrow, you had betterget _it_ over to night?"

"Heaven forbid!" cried he, rousing up, "let us have this evening inpeace. You see, my dearest little Cecil, _he_ will hate it anyhow, andto-night will be awfully put out at my bringing you home so late; so thiswould be the very worst opportunity to choose. To-morrow, after dinner, I'll try what I can do with him. I am a shocking bad match for you, Cecil, and that's the fact. But when I went back to Montreal, thinkingof nothing but you, I considered and pondered over every possibilityof putting my prospects in a fair light to your father. To the amazementof my creditors, I _asked_ for their accounts. Then I made a littlearrangement with Green, the senior lieutenant. He is the son of amoney-lender, and very sick of being a subaltern; so he paid theover-regulation down on account for my troop, and will shell outthe rest, with an extra thousand, directly my papers are in. Theover-regulation money, with a little stretching, covered my debts. To besure, Green had to part pretty freely, but his pater will get it out ofsome one else. Now, my idea is to realize what remains of my slenderfortune, and try my luck in Australia. You see, my darling, you are allright, for all your money will be settled on yourself; so that if I smashup there, the worst that can happen will be your having to maintain metill I can 'strike ile, ' or bring out a patent horse-medicine, or becomeriding-master to young ladies. "

"I put my veto on the last, " laughed Cecil. "But really, Bertie, I canhardly believe such good news as your being actually cleared up at last;indeed, I almost feel a sentimental attachment to your debts, for it wasabout them you first got confidential that Spring you stayed with us inEngland. "

"That visit did my business for life, " said Bertie, with a wooer's usualdisregard of veracity. "But you are far more beautiful now, Cecil, thanyou were then. "

Not even Du Meresq could persuade Cecil that she had any claims to boastof on that score; indeed, she had once overheard him say that he hardlyever admired dark women, so she passed it by with a half smile ofincredulity, as she observed, --

"I really begin to have some faint hope of papa consenting. Your beingout of debt will weigh tremendously with him. "

"And I am sure you will like Australia, " cried he, enthusiastically. "Itis the most charming climate, and the life delightful. I will send you upa lot of books on the subject. "

Cecil was ashamed to confess how many she had read already. "You _must_go by that boat to-morrow night, I suppose?" said she, meditatively. 

"Yes; no help for it. But as I shall send my papers in at once, mostprobably I can get leave till I am gazetted out. "

"Oh! I wish that _mauvais quart-d'heure_ with papa were over, " sighedCecil. "All to-morrow in suspense!"

"Cecil, " said Du Meresq, in his most persuasive tones, "it is better tobe prepared for the worst. I know you are true as steel, and far firmerthan most girls. Promise that you _will_ marry me, --with his consent, ifpossible; if not, without. "

They had landed just before, and were walking up to the house. Whatpresentiment checked the unqualified pledge he would have imposed on her?

"I promise, " she cried, "to marry no one else while you are alive. "

CHAPTER XXIII. 

LOLA'S BIRTHDAY. 

 She is not fair to outward view, As many maidens be; Her loveliness I never knew Until she smiled on me. Oh! then I saw her eye was bright, A well of love--a spring of light --Hartley Coleridge. 

Mrs. Rolleston had passed a terrible day of anxiety. The sudden rising ofthe wind so soon after their departure first aroused her alarm, which, asthe utmost limit of the time they were to be away passed, becameaugmented tenfold. The absence of the Colonel, who had gone inland, atfirst a relief, now increased her desperation, for there was no one tomake an effort for their preservation or to ascertain their fate. She andBluebell, who suffered scarcely less, could only rush to the boatmen foreither consolation or assistance. They got little of the former, for withthe usual propensity of the lower classes to make the worst ofeverything, they expressed a decided opinion that the canoe so overladencould not have weathered the squall. 

"But they might have put in somewhere, " cried Bluebell, seeing Mrs. Rolleston speechless with consternation. 

"How far would they be got, ma'am?"

"They must have been gone nearly an hour before the wind began to howl. "

"Then they'd be nigh the black rocks, and no place to land closer thanCoonwood, unless they turned back and got on to Sheep Island. "

"Oh! go and see!" cried Mrs. Rolleston, beside herself with terror, palling out her purse in answer to the mute unwillingness on the man'sface. 

"It won't be no manner of use; but if it will be a satisfaction to you, ma'am, " looking expressively at the purse, "and my mate will come withme, I'll go out for them. They ought to come down 'ansome, " he muttered, "if I finds the bodies. "

The two ladies waited to see him off, fretting inwardly at the delay ofrepairing a plank in the boat and fetching his mate. It was a goodsubstantial old tub, very different from the fairy canoe freighted withthose precious human lives. Then they returned to their weary watch inCecil's bird's-nest of a room, which commanded the most extensive view ofthe lake. Bluebell's young eyes were the first to discern the tiny whitebunting, and hope battled with suspense till they could be sure it wasthe sail they sought. With the field glass they made out two forms. 

"Cecil is safe!" cried Mrs. Rolleston, recognising her large, shady hat. "But still, " she thought, "Bertie might be drowned, and Captain Lascellesbringing her home. Oh, Bluebell! can you recognise him?" for the girl hadthe glasses. They were very strong ones, and her vision keen. A spasmpassed over her face. 

"Captain Du Meresq is quite safe, " said she, bitterly. She had looked atthe moment when Bertie stretched out his arm for Cecil's hand, and wascarrying it to his lips. 

Mrs. Rolleston's raptures were too oppressive just then. Bluebell feltthankful to hear a slight disturbance, which betokened that the Colonelhad returned. His wife, quite unnerved by the transition from despair tojoy, could conceal nothing, and, rushing down, poured into his ear allthe dread and relief of the past hours. The Colonel hearing it thusabruptly, and unsoftened by previous anxiety, only felt intense anger atCecil's having gone alone with these two men; and the danger and exposureto the storm that she had undergone aggravated the offence considerably. He felt too strongly to say much to his wife, who, indeed, had sufferedquite enough already; and the sting of it all--his growing fear of DuMeresq's influence over Cecil--he was not disposed to confide to her. 

"I have been too careless, " he reflected, "and I cannot trust Bella, who will never see a fault in her brother. However, he will be goneto-morrow, and I will take care they never meet again till Cecil ismarried. "

Mrs. Rolleston, in the restless activity of a lightened heart, hadhurried away to order large fires to be lit in their rooms, and hotcordials and everything imagination could suggest placed ready. Indeedshe racked her brains to remember what restoratives were usually appliedto drowned persons. Holding them up by the heels or _not_ doing so(whichever it was), and hot blankets, were the only prescriptions shecould recollect; and then the culprits themselves came in, lookingparticularly fresh and pleased with themselves. 

Cecil she proposed instantly to consign to a warm bed, but the girllaughed her to scorn, and would not hear of being shelved in that manner;and, finally, they all came down to dinner, talkative from a delightfulsense of reaction. This superfluous effervescence, however, was soonflattened by the unsympathetic gloom of the head of the family. It wasvery unlike his usual manner, and not a good augury, thought two of theparty, who ascribed it to the right cause. 

Cecil, however, was determined to resist the damping influence as longas she could. She rattled off lively French airs at the piano, andchallenged her father to chess; but he only drily remarked "that afterhaving passed the day in wet clothes, she had better take some ordinaryprecautions and go to bed. " Indeed, her slightly feverish manner perhapswarranted the advice. 

"Good night, then, Bertie, and mind you are here early to-morrow forLola's picnic. "

It was the child's birthday, and she had written roundhand invitations toall of them, to spend the day on Long Island and lunch there. 

"Tell Lola, " said Bertie, smiling, "I would not miss it for the world. She will think me very shabby, but I can't get her a present at RiceLake. "

He went away himself a few minutes after, half hoping to obtain fromCecil a second and more affectionate farewell, but could see nothing ofher. Just as he stepped out, though, a casement shot open, and her brightface appeared for an instant as she threw down a rose, round the stalk ofwhich was a slip of paper with the word "_Courage?_" scratched upon it. She put a finger on her lips warningly, then kissed her hand, andvanished. 

Bertie picked up the rose. It was one she had plucked as they entered thegarden, and worn in her dress that evening. 

As he got into one of the various canoes at the landing, another onepassed, paddled by a good-looking youth, who half stopped, and gazedintently at Du Meresq, then catching sight of the flower in hisbutton-hole, an expression of baffled rage came over his boyish face, and he shot away. 

It was Alec Gough prowling around with his flageolet, intent uponaddressing some minstrelsy to Bluebell, and much disconcerted by thesight of Du Meresq coming from that house with a trophy in the shape ofa faded rose. 

About two hours after, Cecil, too feverish from the exciting events ofthe day to sleep, became sensible of some strains of music, apparentlyfrom the lake. She sat up to listen. Could it possibly be Bertie? No; hewas too good a musician for that barrel-organ style; some wanderingperson from the hotel it must be. The air was familiar to her, though shecould not immediately recall the name. At last she recollected it wasone of Moore's melodies, and a verse of it, really intended by Alec foran indignant expostulation to Bluebell, came into her head. --

 "Fare thee well, thou lovely one, Lovely still, but dear no more; Once the soul of truth is gone, Love's sweet life is o'er. "

One is more prone to fancies and superstitions in the night-time, andsomething in the sentiment saddened her. The unknown musician did notweaken the effect by playing another air; and Cecil towards morning fellinto an unrefreshing slumber, in which her dreams seemed to parody theday's adventures. 

Sometimes she was struggling in the water; and then the scenechanged--she was being married in a small church, or rather it moreresembled the white-washed room at the station. Bertie was presenting herwith a rose instead of a ring, while she was trying to conceal 'neath thefolds of her bridal dress her feet encased in shapeless Balmorals. ThenColonel Rolleston suddenly appeared and forbade the ceremony to proceed, while the bridegroom seemed to have changed into Fane, and Bertie, asbest-man, slowly chanted--

 "Fare thee well, thou lovely one. Lovely still, but dear no more. "

"Cecil, " cried a gay voice, "are you singing in your sleep? Get up. It'smy birthday, " said Lola, energetically shaking her shoulder. 

"Oh, Lola, is it you? I am so glad you woke me! Many happy returns, mychild. Have you had any presents?"

"Oh, yes, pretty good ones. I put my stocking out last night, and it wasstuffed. A white mouse from Fred in it, too. It ran away and up thebell-rope, and we have been catching it ever since; but, " hanging herhead, "there was nothing from you, Cecil. "

"Well, Lola, " remorsefully, "it is never too late to mend. Would you likea locket? Fetch my dressing-case and you shall choose one. "

Cecil was too happy herself that morning not to be amiable to others, andLola was her favourite; so she would not hurry her, and waited patientlythe child's indecision and chatter as she turned over the trinkets. 

"Actually Miss Prosody gave me a dictionary; horrid of her, wasn't it?Perhaps she'll ask me to say a column a morning. I think I'll leave it byaccident on one of the islands. "

"I'll buy it of you, " said Cecil, smiling. "I don't think I learnedcolumns enough when I was a child. "

"Likely you'd do it now, though, as you are not obliged! Well, Cecil, Ithink I'll take this dear little blue one with a pearl cross on. It issuch a hot day! What dress are you going to wear? It must be a prettyone, because it is my birthday. "

Cecil smiled contentedly. It was the birthday of something besidesLola--the dawn of a new life to herself. "Here, miss will this do?" askedshe, holding up a fresh grey muslin for her sister's inspection. 

"Middling, " discontentedly, "Bluebell looks well in those cool, simpledresses; but you are never really pretty, Cecil, except in a grand velvetdress, and then you are splendid. "

"Fine feathers make fine birds, " replied the other, rather hurt. It wasnot a morning on which she could bear to be told that her attractionsmust depend on her toilette; but, half-an-hour afterwards, as she knottedsome carnation ribbon on the grey dress and in her dusky hair, a shysmile came over her face, for she saw she was beautiful with the light oflove. A warm tinge coloured the usually pale cheek, the lips had takena deeper red, and were parted with a rare _fin_ smile--the velveteyes were softer and of liquid brightness. 

So thought Bertie, as his expressive glance but too well revealed whenthey met at breakfast. He made no attempt to conceal his devotion; hiseyes scarcely left her face, and his voice took a different tone inaddressing her. Fortunately for Bluebell's peace of mind, she was notpresent. Mrs. Rolleston noticed it, and rejoiced; the Colonel was equallyperceptive, and made an inward resolve. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

LITTLE PITCHERS. 

 If aught in nature be unnatural, It is the slaying, by a spring-tide frost, Of Spring's own children; cheated blossoms all Betrayed i' the birth, and born for burial, Of budding promise; scarce beloved ere lost. --Fables In Song. 

The whole party were gathered on the lawn after breakfast, preparing forthe start, and continually running backwards and forwards for somethingforgotten. Du Meresq and Cecil were talking apart: the Colonel was to betold that evening after dinner; and Bertie had to get to Cobourg, andcatch the night steamer there. 

"If we are late back, there will be hardly any time, " said the girl. 

"Long enough to explain my magnificent prospects, or rather projects. Oh, Cecil, you will be firm, anyhow!"

Her answer was prevented by a clinging sister rushing up. She hummed thewords of a favourite air. "Loyal je serai durant ma vie. "

Bertie picked a rose and gave it to her. "It exactly matches yourribbons, " said he. 

It reminded Cecil of her dream, when he gave her a rose instead of aring, and turned into Fane, and a superstitious chill came over her. Atthis moment Colonel Rolleston stepped out. 

"It is time you people were off. I am only coming with you as far as thehotel to get a trap. I find I must go to Cobourg for letters. I wish, Cecil you would drive with me. "

What? give up all those hours with Bertie! His last day, too, and thefirst of their happiness!

In utter consternation, Cecil cast a most imploring glance at her father;but he, appearing not to see it, continued nonchalantly, --

"It is a long, dull drive, and I shall really be glad of your company. "

Du Meresq ground his heel into the gravel with vexation, and Mrs. Rolleston attempted a feeble remonstrance. "The children will bedisappointed if Cecil goes away, "--which sentiment they eagerlychorussed. 

"Well, you must spare her to-day, " said their father, "for I want hertoo. It will be much better for Cecil to take a quiet drive after herexposure yesterday, than to grill on those islands all day. "

It was quite evident opposition would be useless. In sullen resignationshe entered a boat with the Colonel, and, taking the rudder lines, steered a course away from Long Island, which the picnic party were nowmaking for. She had seen Bertie standing angry and irresolute, and, apparently, not going; and then he must have changed his mind, for asthey were just pulling off, he stepped into the vacant place of a boatcontaining Mrs. Rolleston, Freddy and Bluebell. Not for a moment wasshe deceived as to the Colonel's motive in causing her to forego herday's amusement. It was not her society that he wanted--it was toseparate her from Du Meresq; and who could tell that he might not intendto bring her back too late to see him before he went?

This she determined to resist to the utmost. She did not feel as ifshe could endure the suspense, if Du Meresq lost this opportunity ofspeaking, however doubtful might be the result. 

Revolving the difficulties in her path only made Cecil more resolute. Shewould never give Bertie up, neither would she wait to grow prematurelyold with the sickness of hope deferred. 

If her father refused consent, would a long secret engagement, promisingto remain faithful to each other, be their only resource? Cecil smiled atthe idea. She did not forget she was an heiress and of age. Love is forthe young, and she was far too proud to meditate bestowing herself uponBertie when years should have quenched hope and spirit, and stealthilyabstracted every charm of youth. And as to him? Well, his antecedents hadcertainly given no promise of the long suffering fidelity of a Jacob. 

Colonel Rolleston was pretty well aware of what was passing in hisdaughter's mind, for his eyes were now fully opened; but he did notchoose to show it. 

They arrived at Cobourg, where he found his letters; and then the horseswere put up to bait, and they went to the hotel for luncheon. 

Cecil expressed a hope that they would be able to return when the horseswere rested. 

"Certainly, " said her father; "we will drive back to dinner. "

And, much relieved, she brightened up considerably. 

Now the Colonel would rather have detained her long enough there toensure passing Du Meresq on the road; but the _ennui_ of spending somany hours in so uninteresting a place, and the absence of any excusefor waiting, favoured Cecil's wishes. 

Still the time seemed interminable to her in that dusty inn parlour, withits obsolete Annuals, cracked pianoforte, and ugly prints on the walls. Surely no horses ever required so long a rest, and when her fathersuggested ordering her some tea, it seemed almost like _malice prepense_to occasion a further delay. 

However, they were off at last, and as they rattled along in their shakyconveyance, she became painfully conscious of its discomfort. Every joltwas anguish, and her head and all her limbs were aching. Was it theducking yesterday, or only this dreadful springless buggy?

They reached the landing before any of the party had returned, and Cecilsought her gable and threw herself on the bed, trusting to rest to removesome of her unpleasant sensations. 

As she closed her eyes, she fell into a not unhappy reverie. True, therewere opposition and difficulties to contend with, but Bertie was her own, and she would never doubt him more. How disinterested and straightforwardhe had been in freeing himself from debt before he spoke at all? Even herfather must acknowledge that; also that he had sufficient money for thecareer he had chosen, and only valued her fortune as a security andcomfort to herself. 

The unutterable luxury of being able to think of him unrestrained onlydated from yesterday; for before there was always the humiliating dreadthat her idolatry was only returned in the same measure in which it wasdistributed among his somewhat numerous loves. But now distrust had allmelted away, and she cared not for the many who had hooked, and lost, since she had landed him. 

Aroused by the splash of oars on the lake, Cecil tried to spring fromthe bed, but her limbs were stiff and heavy, and she dragged herselflanguidly to the window. They were all on the landing but Du Meresq, andthe quick pulsation stilled again. 

"I suppose he went first to the hotel, " thought she, and began arrangingher hair, disordered by the pillow. She heard Lola running upstairs, andcalled her as she passed. 

"I am coming, Cecil. I have got a message for you from Bertie, which is, that he has only gone up to the hotel, and will be here in ten minutes. "

Cecil kissed the welcome Mercury, and drew her into the room shutting thedoor. 

"Well, dear, and did you have a pleasant day? What did you do?"

"Oh, yes, " said Lola, whose eyes were glittering with excitement, and whohad altogether rather a strange manner. "That is to say, pretty well. Wedidn't do much. "

"How was that?"

"Why, Bertie and Bluebell were so stupid. They went away by themselvesfor ever so long. "

Cecil felt as if a hand had suddenly clutched her heart and frozen theblood in her veins. Could that pale face, with wildly gleaming eyes, bethe same so sweet and tranquil, that was carelessly smiling at the childan instant before?

"And do you know, Cecil, " pursued Lola, warming with her subject, andspeaking with intense excitement, "Bertie kissed Bluebell. I saw him doit. "

A pause, and the child, apparently gratified by the interest she hadawakened, continued, --

"I think Bluebell was crying, and he trying to console her; at any rate, I heard him say he 'loved her very much. '"

One has noticed some years warm weather set in delusively early, andblossoms of fruit and flowers nursed in its smiles peep prematurelyforth; and then a biting frost and northeast wind will spring up, the sunall the while treacherously shining, and in one hour destroy the bud andpromise for ever. No less swift was the scathing power wielded by thatinnocent executioner. Every word, fraught with conviction and crushingevidence, sank deep down into her heart. She sat so still that Lola gotfrightened, and entreated her to say what was the matter; but Cecilappeared unconscious of her presence, and, scared and bewildered, thechild shrank away. 

Then the girl rose up, and with rapid, uneven steps paced the room. Aftera while, first bolting the door, she unlocked a sandal-wood box, where, tied with a ribbon and carefully dated, was a packet of Bertie's letters. One by one she patiently read them through, noting and comparingpassages, then tying them up, wrote the day of the month and the hour ona slip of paper, and finally enclosed all in an outer cover, which shesealed with her signet-ring, and directed to Du Meresq. This done, therestless walk was resumed. Her head was burning, and throbbed almost toowildly to think. One line seemed ceaselessly to ring in it, that hadmingled with her dreams last night, and recurred with hatefulappropriateness, --

 "Once the soul of truth is gone, love's sweet life is o'er. "

Contempt of herself for having been so duped added bitterness to thesethoughts. How long and easily had Bertie and Bluebell hoodwinked her tobe on the terms they were, and doubtless had often laughed over hersimplicity and short-sightedness! But Lola had described her in tears, not smiles; and then Bertie appeared baser than ever. He loved Bluebell, yet would sacrifice her for Cecil's fortune; for the unhappy girl nolonger believed in his disinterested professions of the day before. No!she was dark and unlovely, and her rival beautiful, in his favouritestyle! And Du Meresq was black and treacherous, as a smothered instincthad sometimes warned her. 

Mrs. Rolleston came to the door and begged her to come down. Lola'saccount had startled her. Cecil entreated to be left alone; "she had asplitting headache, and wished to be quiet;" and on her step-mothereffecting an entrance, the sight of her face left no doubt of thevalidity of the excuse. 

"Bertie will be so disappointed if he does not see you to-night, " criedshe regretfully. A bitter smile, and the reiteration, "I cannot comedown. "

"Your hand is burning, child. You are in a fever. What _is_ the matter?"

Cecil coldly withdrew it, in the same somnambulistic manner, and saidshe would lie down; and Mrs. Rolleston went out, hurt by her want ofconfidence, and much bewildered by many events of that day. 

Lola next invaded her, sent by Bertie to entreat for admission. "He onlyjust wants to come in for a minute, and see how you are. "

"I can't see _any one_, my head is too bad; tell Bertie so. I am going tolock the door, and go to bed. "

But she only threw herself on it. The light waned and darkened, and themoon arose. Then Cecil stole cautiously to the window and watched. Presently Du Meresq came out alone, and she knew he was on his way to theboat. He would look up, she was sure, and she entrenched herself behindthe curtain. By the light of the moon she saw his gaze rivet itself onher window, as though it would pierce the gloom. His face was strangelypale, and even sad, and her rebellious heart throbbed wildly as she felthow perilously dear he still was to her. He turned away. Whatever he woreor did, there was a picturesque grace about him, thought Cecil; and ashis boat became smaller and smaller in the distance, she wished, in thebitterness of her heart, they had both sunk in the squall of yesterday, e'er she had discovered how falsely he had lied to her. 

Lola again disturbed her. "Papa says he is coming up in ten minutes tosee you. Bertie told me to tell you he was very sorry you would not speakto him, or say good-bye. "

Lola had dined late, it being her birthday, and wore Cecil's locket on aribbon, but she looked scared and depressed. "It was so dull downstairs, "she said. "Mamma had gone away after dinner, and talked a long time toBluebell. Bertie had not come out of the dining room till it was time togo, and she had had no one to speak to but Miss Prosody--not a bit like abirthday. "

"Lola, " said Cecil, much too preoccupied to attend to her complaints, "has the letter bag gone down to the boat yet?"

"I saw it still open in the passage. "

"Then run down quick with this big letter--you understand? Don't stop tospeak to any one, but put it in the bag and come back and tell me when itis done. "

The child looked at the address "Why, Cecil, " said she, curiously, "thisis for Bertie! What a pity I couldn't have given it to him before hewent! What a lot of postage stamps it takes!"

"Never mind, dear, run away with it, " anxiously. 

Lola was but just in time before the Colonel came out, locked the bag, and went upstairs to his daughter. 

Pre-occupied as he was, he was startled at her changed appearance. Ashawl was thrown around her, and she appeared shivering, while a feverspot burned on either cheek. The Colonel was alarmed and irritated. "Itis all that folly yesterday. Have your fire lit, and go to bed, but Imust say a word or two first. "

No assistance from Cecil, he took a turn or two about the room, surprisedat her apathy. It was very difficult to begin, he wished to be kind, butwas determined to be firm. How indifferent she seemed. Perhaps she wouldnot care so very much. 

"Cecil, " he began, "you will guess what I wish to speak about. I don'tknow whether I was more surprised or annoyed at Du Meresq's preposterousproposal for you to-night. "

"What did he say, papa?"

"Why, " perplexed at her unusual manner, which exhibited no surprise andlittle curiosity, "all he had to say was, that he wished to abandon hisprofession, and take you on a wild goose chase to the Antipodes. That initself would have been quite sufficient, but there are other reasons, Ihave not a good opinion of Du Meresq, and I had almost rather see you inyour grave than married to him. " Cecil made no sign, and the Colonelcontinued, --"It may seem hard now, but you will live to thank me. I wishyou, Cecil, since he will not be satisfied with less, to write a fewlines and tell him all must be at an end between you. "

She rose mechanically, brought her writing-desk, and took out pen andpaper. 

"What shall I say?" she asked, tranquilly. 

The Colonel, who was prepared for determined opposition from his strongwilled daughter, knew not whether to be most relieved or confounded bythis apathetic submission. "I will leave the composition to you, " saidhe, gently. 

"Thank you, " said Cecil "I should prefer writing it from your dictation. "

"Say, then, " returned her father, not ill pleased to get it expressedstrongly "that you find I am so irrevocably opposed to your marriage withhim, that you have no alternative but to give up all thoughts of it forthe future, and that he must understand this decision to be final. "

Deliberately, and with the same stony indifference, she wrote it word forword, handed it to her father to read then sealed the letter with her ownsignet-ring, and returned it to him. 

"It will be Fane yet, " thought the bewildered Colonel, with a secret glowof hope. "I was mistaken, her heart is not in this business--if she hasone, " was the irrepressible doubt, for though Bertie's ardent suit hadleft him inflexible, his daughter's insensibility almost disgusted him. 

Muttering to himself, "That job's over, " with a lightened heart he soughthis wife, and directed her to go to Cecil, whom he thought far from well. But an interview with Bertie's sister just then was too distasteful tothe unhappy girl, and she only answered Mrs. Rolleston's request, thatshe would open the door, by entreaties to be left in peace and allowed tosleep. 

It would have been better had she admitted her not only into her room, but her confidence for the kind lady knew what even Cecil might haveacknowledged to be extenuating circumstances, but she now felt completelyalienated and distanced by the forbidding reserve of her step daughter, of whom she was not altogether devoid of awe. 

The next day an express was on its way to Peterboro' for a doctor. Cecilwas down with rheumatic fever, and delirious. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

CHANGES. 

 I remember the way we parted. The day and the way we met; You hoped we were both broken hearted; I knew we should both forget. 

 A hand like a white wood-blossom You lifted, and waved and passed With head hung down to the bosom, And pale, as it seemed at last. --Swinburne. 

Du Meresq in indignant dismay at the abduction of Cecil on the day of thepicnic stood awhile silent and bitter, deaf to the impatience of thechildren, who wanted to be off. While thus irresolute, he chanced toglance at Bluebell, whose countenance betrayed an agony of suspense. Theentreating look in her eyes she was probably unconscious of, for thechild had not yet learned to command her face. Bertie yielded to it by asort of magnetism, and flung himself into the boat where she and Mrs. Rolleston were already seated, but remained silent and thoughtful as theyfloated monotonously along. His sister was equally occupied with uneasyreflections, and Bluebell seemed as spell-bound as the rest. For one souldeeply moved and agitated often affects by electricity another in areceptive condition. Does not the atmosphere in a tempestuous mood thrilland disturb our nervous system?

She was next to Bertie, and noted that, though concealed by rugs andwaterproofs, his hand did not seek hers as of yore. 

They were joined on Long Island by the rest of the party, and all keptpretty much together at first. There was luncheon to be unpacked, thefire to be made and some fish to be grilled in a frying-pan. Du Meresqpartially shook off his gloom, and assisted the children in theirpreparations; and, from the noise that ensued, a stranger would not havesuspected the mental disquietude of three of the number. 

After luncheon, Bluebell wandered away in search of wild flowers, thechildren hunted for cray-fish, Miss Prosody spudded up ferns, and Mrs. Rolleston drew from her pocket her favourite point-lace. 

Du Meresq, hungering for that exclusively masculine solace, tenderlybrought forth the pipe of his affections, nestling next his heart. Therewas too much air on the beach, and he sauntered away in search of a moresheltered situation in which to woo his divinity. 

Some "spirit in his feet" must have led him "who knows how, " for ere longhe found himself seated on a log beside Bluebell. I cannot tell whatspell that syren had used to attract his footsteps so unerringly, for, little accustomed as he was to resist female influence, in thought atleast Du Meresq was loyal enough to Cecil. 

He made no attempt to kiss her, as he would have done before in a similarsituation, but talked a while in that half-fond, half-bantering mannerthat had misled the inexperienced child. The sun poured its level raysupon them, and a little brown snake, with a litter of young, crawled frombeneath the log. This occasioned a hasty change of quarters, and theyfound another seat o'ershadowed by a tangle of blackberries. It was verysecluded and still, and here, with her whole soul, in her eyes, Bluebellabruptly asked Bertie her dreaded question. 

Rather taken back, he answered evasively. But the ice once broken, shewas not to be turned from her purpose, and repeated, as if it were astereotyped form of words she had been practising, "I only wish to askone single thing, are you engaged to Cecil?"

Du Meresq was no coxcomb. He was distressed at the repressed agitation inBluebell's voice, her hueless face, and the hopeless look in eyes heremembered so beaming, and for the moment heartily wished he had neverseen her. 

"How young she looks, with her lap full of flowers. Like an unhappychild, " thought he remorsefully. "I must tell her the truth; she'll soonget over it. "

Very gently he took her hand, and said, gravely, --"I asked Cecilyesterday to marry me, and she said yes. "

Bluebell staggered to her feet, with perhaps a sudden impulse of flight, but so unsteadily that Du Meresq involuntarily threw a supporting armround her. At that moment Lola, in search of blackberries, and herselfconcealed by the bush she was rifling, peeped through the brambles, andremained a petrified and curious observer. 

Bluebell, struggling for composure, tried to speak, but the effort onlyprecipitated an irrepressible flood of tears, and Du Meresq, grieved andself-reproachful, in his attempts to console her, used the fatal wordsthat Lola afterwards repeated to Cecil. The child escaped without herpresence being detected. 

Bluebell's emotion had passed over like a storm that clears theatmosphere. It left her calm and cold, and only anxious to be awayfrom Du Meresq. 

There is a bracing power in knowing the worst. He had gained heraffections without the most distant intention of matrimony, andresentment and shame restored her to composure. 

She turned her large child-like eyes on him with mute reproach. 

"You should have told me before, " were her first articulate words. "Nowonder Cecil hated me when you were pretending to care for me behind herback. "

Bertie murmured, --"There was no pretence in the matter. "

"Then why do you marry Cecil?" asked Bluebell, with the mostuncompromising directness. "Is it because she is rich?"

"Confound it, " thought Du Meresq; "I trust she won't suggest that toCecil. "

"Can't I love you both?" cried he, somewhat irritated; and just then MissProsody and her brood appeared in sight. 

"I return you my share, " exclaimed Bluebell, breaking abruptly from him, and, running down the path, joined the governess and children. 

Du Meresq had rather a bad quarter of an hour over the pipe which thissentimental episode had extinguished; but he could not regret, in theface of his new engagement, the _finale_ of a past and now inopportunelove-affair. 

Bluebell did not come down to dinner that day nor see Du Meresq again;but afterwards, Mrs. Rolleston, who was in nobody's confidence, and hadthe uneasy conviction that something was going desperately wrong, cameinto her room. 

Bluebell's state of repression could endure no longer. She began byentreating Mrs. Rolleston to accept Mrs. Leighton's situation, and lether go to England at once; and after that it did not take much pressingto induce her to make full confession of all that had passed. 

It must be remembered that Bluebell was under the impression that herfriend had always known of the flirtation between herself and Bertie; butnow for the first time the horror-stricken Mrs. Rolleston had her eyesopened to what had been passing before them. 

Everything burst on her at once. Recollection and perception awoketogether. To keep it from Cecil seemed the most urgent necessity, and theremoval of Bluebell the thing most to be wished for. 

Bluebell was disposed to keep back nothing, and answered every questionwith frank recklessness. She told of their first walk in the wood, theirfrequent interviews at "The Maples, " and Bertie's visit to the cottage, laughing at the idea of having ever seriously cared for Jack Vavasour. 

Mrs. Rolleston remembered that Cecil had not shared her delusion on thatsubject, and anxiously inquired if she had ever acknowledged to her her_penchant_ for Bertie. 

Bluebell answered in the negative, giving as a reason that, though unableto guess the cause, her manner had always repelled any approach toconfidence on that subject. 

Mrs. Rolleston remembered Cecil's strange behaviour that afternoon, but she had not even seen Bluebell since the picnic. It remainedunaccountable. 

She reflected with vexation on the fatality that had made her refuse thechild's confidence so many months before; but yet she hoped no harm wasdone, since Bluebell averred that Bertie and Cecil were engaged. 

The letter to Mrs. Leighton was written that night ready for the morningmail; another was also despatched to Mrs. Leigh at Bluebell's request, who was anxious that Mrs. Rolleston should break the rather summarymeasures to her--not that the latter anticipated much difficulty there. All Canadians have a great idea of a visit to England, which theytenaciously speak of as "home, " and "the old country. " And she wouldprobably be glad that Bluebell should see her father's birthplace. 

At the child's express wish, it was also arranged for her to go home atonce, as companionship with Cecil could now be agreeable to neither ofthem. 

Mrs. Rolleston had only seen Du Meresq for a moment before he went away, yet his manner, no less than her step-daughter's, clearly indicated thatsomething was wrong. Even Colonel Rolleston had taken up an attitude ofimpenetrable reserve, and his wife was completely at fault. Next day, however, the shock and terror of Cecil's illness fell upon them, turningher mind to a more immediate subject of anxiety. 

Bluebell could not do less than offer to remain, and share the vigils inthe sick room; but even in delirium Cecil became palpably worse when herrival approached, so, in a few days, with much sadness, she bade farewellto those who had made the world of her "most memorial year. "

While Cecil was hovering on the borderland of mental darkness, a notecame for her from Bertie, written on receipt of the packet that Lola hadposted and was as follows:--

 "What can I imagine, Cecil, from this parcel of my letters returned without a word beyond the date and hour? You must have packed them up at the very time I, as we had agreed, was asking for you from your father. I shall not speak of the almost insulting way in which he received my proposals, for that we had anticipated; but you had promised in any event to be true to me. You could not have changed in a summer day, I know your nature, my dearest little Cecil, and you would not have deserted me in this crisis unless your vulnerable side, jealousy, had been awakened. Indeed you have no cause for it. I cannot come back to the Lake, for your father would not receive me, but shall make no plans till I hear from you. 

 "Yours, as ever, devotedly, "B. "

It was three weeks before Cecil could read this letter, and the followingday Du Meresq got hers, written at her father's dictation. 

It was not a soothing one for an ardent lover to receive, and Bertie wasat first furious, and considered himself very ill used. With it all, though, he never believed that Cecil had really changed. He thought veryprobably his unfortunate flirtation with Bluebell had come out; returninghis letters looked like an _accès_ of jealousy, and the one she hadwritten was probably prompted by the same cause. 

Any way, though, he was at a dead lock. Her father, of course, would notallow her to see him, and while she was in this mood writing was useless. His papers were in, and tired of inaction at Montreal, he obtained leaveto go to England. He lingered time enough to have received an answer tohis letter, and, none coming, he took the first steamer homeward-bound. 

Du Meresq had not acquainted his sister of his engagement to Cecil; forbeing aware of the Colonel's inimical disposition, he did not wish todraw her into any difficulty about it. She did not even know that he hadwritten to Cecil since he left, as the letter had fallen into herhusband's hands, who, though not intending to withhold it altogether, considered it a document that might very well wait her convalescence. 

Mrs. Rolleston wished to apprise Bertie of Cecil's dangerous illness, butshe had allowed one mail to pass, and they only recurred once a week, sothat Du Meresq was embarking at Quebec the day her letter arrived atMontreal. 

Cecil made a slow recovery. The rheumatic fever, caused by sitting somany hours in wet clothes, and aggravated by the shock she had sincereceived, hung about her many weeks, and as soon as she could be movedthey took her back to Toronto. Then her father most unwillingly gave herDu Meresq's letter. He was too honourable to destroy it; but, lookingupon him as the frustrator of his plans for Cecil, and the indirect causeof her illness, viewed with impatience any chance of a renewal ofintercourse. 

Cecil read it repeatedly; but though her heart longed to believe, hermind remained unconvinced. She shrank from all mention of the subjectwith her step-mother, knowing how one-sided a partisan she would be, butcould not deny herself the self-torture of questioning Lola again. Thechild relentlessly stuck to her text, painting the scene with a vividnessthat did credit to her descriptive powers; and being one of thosevivacious and ubiquitous children never to be sufficiently guardedagainst, was able to mention one or two other occasions on which she had"popped on them. "

And all that time Bertie had apparently been devoted to herself! This wasdecisive. Lola could have no interest in deceiving her. She must notanswer his letter or be his dupe again. 

Bluebell's approaching departure to England still further corroboratedLola's story. At that picnic on Long Island, Bertie had evidentlyacknowledged his engagement to herself, which she now fully believed tobe a mercenary one, as, doubtless, he had also assured her rival. Butperpetual lonely walks and rides were unfavourable to oblivion, and hadDu Meresq been but on the spot, I think even then the mists between thesetwo lovers would soon have been drawn aside. 

Mrs. Rolleston wondered that she had not heard from Bertie, but imaginedhe was somewhere on leave. Cecil would not speak on the subject, but shementioned it sometimes to Bluebell with surprise, who was much perplexedto guess what could have divided them. Her own conscience was easy; shehad told Cecil nothing--indeed, they had never met since the latter'sillness. Bluebell was now with her mother, preparing for her journey toEngland, and had persistently avoided going to "The Maples. "

A very cordial acceptance had come from Mrs. Leighton, who said Evelynwas all impatience for her musical friend. Mrs. Rolleston, who was now afrequent visitor at the cottage, laughed a little at the letter, whichwas very gushing, and told Bluebell they were an emotional pair. Evelynwas strangely brought up, --every fancy, however extravagant, gratified, partly on account of her delicate health, and partly from the sentimentalsympathy of her mother. One whim was, she would never learn from uglypeople, and the supply of beautiful governesses being limited, hereducation was proportionably so also. 

Mrs. Leighton sent minute directions. She would pay Miss Leigh'spassage-money, giving her rather less salary the first year. Of courseshe was to come under protection of the captain, to whom the _rôle_ ofheavy father to unchaperoned girls is usually relegated; and on arrivingat Liverpool the railway journey to Leighton Court would be only a fewhours. 

Mrs. Rolleston gave her a pretty travelling dress, and otherwisereplenished her slender wardrobe. She also contributed a little goodadvice as to abstention from flirting, explaining that in her unprotectedsituation she could not be too sceptical of the honest intentions ofwould-be wooers. 

Bluebell indignantly repudiated the possibility of thinking of such athing for the present, if, indeed, ever, and professed the most asceticsentiments. 

It was rather hard on Mrs. Leigh, this far-away separation from her onlychild--indeed, she could not understand why she was not engaged to one orother of the whilom visitors at the cottage, but comforted herself withthe reflection that there were doubtless many rich husbands in England. Bluebell, like her father, seemed of a roving disposition, and she mustlet her fledgling try her wings. 

Mrs. Leigh was romantically inclined, and thought a heroine setting outon her adventures should be provided with some talisman, and, in thiscase, proof of her origin. So she disinterred from the old hair-trunk, where it was usually entombed, the miniature of Theodore Leigh. How younghe looked! more like Bluebell's brother. "You must never lose it, " saidshe to her daughter; "for if your grandfather left his money to you afterall, I dare say the lawyers would try and prove you were some one else;so it is as well to have your father's portrait to show, and youreyebrows are brown and arched just like his. "

Though at a loss to comprehend why lawyers should display such unprovokedenmity, Bluebell gladly received the miniature. Her unknown fatherrepresented to her another and more brilliant life; and when mostdiscontented at the penury of the cottage, she was fond of picturing toherself her paternal relations, whom she imagined very grand people, andin a very different position to that in which she had been brought up. Inthese last days, Bluebell thought a good deal of Cecil with some returnof her old affection. She remembered how generous and dear a friend shehad been till Bertie came between, and thought how ungrateful she mustconsider her to have clandestinely stolen away the only treasure shewould have been unwilling to share with her. Still, even were they tomeet, nothing she could say would do any good, for Bluebell knew of oldhow difficult it was to speak to Cecil on any subject she was determinedto avoid, and it was not likely she would be particularly approachable onthis one. 

So, upon the whole, it would be a relief to get away, and break newground, leaving painful associations behind; and the bustle ofpreparation for the voyage was not without interest. 

Miss Opie presented her with a brown-holland bag, divided off forbrushes, slippers, etc. , which she enjoined her to hang up in thecabin. "Habits of neatness are always of great importance in a confinedspace; and I have put in a paper of peppermint lozenges in case ofsea-sickness, " she added. 

It was the last evening at home, and every bit of furniture in the oncedespised house seemed instinct with a meaning no other place could havefor her. 

There was the old piano, on which she used to dream away so many hours;and that arm-chair seemed still haunted by the vision of her handsome, faithless lover, as she had seen him in the gloaming. 

How long they had lived there! The little china dog on the shelf was thesame she used to play with on the floor before she could walk. Dull andtrite, and only too well known as these objects might be, a sentimentalinterest seemed now to hallow them. Youth is selfish, and takes allaffection as its due; but even the slight brush with the world Bluebellhad already sustained, gave her the consciousness that, tired as shemight be of her limited life at home, never need she expect to meetelsewhere such unselfish tenderness as a mother's. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

CROSSING THE HERRING POND. 

 A few short hours, the sun will rise To give the morrow birth; And I shall hail the main and skies, But not my mother earth. --Childe Harold. 

The morning rose clear and brilliant. The partings were over, andBluebell, on the deck of the river steamer, was gazing her last on thelong flat shore, with its high elevators, and waving adieu to thediminishing forms of Mrs. Leigh and Miss Opie, who had seen her onboard, --the latter with many injunctions to ascertain that twoold-fashioned hirsute trunks containing her wardrobe were really put intothe steamer at Quebec. Bluebell had treated herself to a smart littleportmanteau for the cabin, being rather ashamed of her antediluvianluggage. She had ten sovereigns in her purse, that had been scrapedtogether among them as a provision for any emergency. The Rollestonchildren had sent her a travelling-bag; but not even a message came fromCecil, which saddened Bluebell, but did not make her resentful, for shecould not but suspect that the former's engagement to Bertie had come toan end, and that, in some way or other, she herself had been the cause ofit. 

A touch of frost during the last fortnight had worked a transformationon the foliage. The thousand islands were changed from green bowers tothe semblance of shrubberies of rhododendron, so brilliant were thecrimson and red of their leaves. They were associated in her mind withCecil, whose artistic eye revelled in the autumn tints, and wasperpetually painting and grouping them during the last fall. 

It was rather lonely and monotonous in the river steamer. There was noone on board that she knew, and, as each hour increased the distance fromall familiar places, a feeling of friendlessness stole over her. 

Arrived at Quebec, every one seemed to push before and jostle her away;but patiently following in the stream, she found herself, with asensation of relief on board the huge Leviathan steamer that was to beher home across the broad Atlantic. 

Some misgivings respecting luggage obtruded themselves. A porter had puther portmanteau and bag on board, but the two trunks she had never seen. No one seemed to attend to her till one man gruffly replied, --"That ifthey were properly addressed, they would be put into the hold all right. "And Bluebell took comfort in the remembrance of the labels plentifullynailed on by Aunt Jane, that she had then thought looked so nervouslyridiculous. 

She sat for some time alone in the saloon, waiting till the rush forstate rooms should have a little subsided before making a timid requestfor her own. 

Several people were now returning, apparently with disburdened minds, foranxious wrinkles were smoothed out into complacent curiosity. Bluebellmade an incoherent attack on the stewardess, who swept by, withoutattending, and after being passed on from one official to the other, shefound herself half-proprietess of a dark confined den, with two berths, two wash-hand-stands, and a sofa. Her partner in these luxuries hadapparently taken possession and gone, for rather a queer shawl lay on oneberth, and a singularly tasteless hat hung on a peg. 

These significant articles deprived the little dungeon of all charms ofprivacy, and, feeling as if it belonged so much more to the other lodger, and she herself were somewhat of an intruder, Bluebell left her smalleffects in the portmanteau, which she stowed away in the mostunobstrusive manner, not even venturing to hang up the brown-hollandcontrivance of Aunt Jane. 

Then she found her way on deck, where most of the passengers werecongregated, and, sitting down on a centre bench, in rather inconvenientproximity to a skylight, was sufficiently amused in speculating on herfellow travellers. 

"My comrade can't be among them, " she thought, "for she has left her hatbelow. "

Most noticeable were a young officer and his bride, as Bluebellimmediately decided the latter to be, partly from her helpless_exigeante_ demeanour, and partly from the extreme newness of herfashionable get up. 

The minuteness and height of her heels were more conducive to the Grecianbend than preserving a balance on a sloping deck, and her fancifulaquatic costume of pale-blue serge more adapted to a nautical scene inprivate theatricals than for contact with the drenching spray of therough Atlantic. 

But ere the anchor weighed she shone pre-eminent, and had thegratification of making a dozen other women feel shabby and dissatisfied. 

In contrast to these was a sickly-looking, middle-class person, with twochildren tastefully arrayed in purple frocks, red stockings, and magentacomforters. They were clinging to a coarse-looking girl, also with apreference for cheerfulness of hue, who carried a felt donkey, and seemedto be the nursery-maid. 

The head of this household, apparently, was not going to accompany them, and, indeed, appeared in rather a more elevated condition than could bewished. He addressed Bluebell, and inquired if her cabin was near hiswife's, and, on professing ignorance, said he trusted it might prove so, as "he naturally felt great anxiety at her travelling so lone andunprotected like, "--a slight unsteadiness of gait showing how irreparablewas the loss of her legitimate defender. The people around stared andsmiled, but he continued to gaze, in a mournful and approving way, atBluebell, while his wife sat in a state of repressed endurance, calculating how many more minutes he would have for exposing himselfbefore the tug separated friends from passengers. 

After a playful feint to throw one of his children overboard, he becamecalmer, and relapsed into a maudlin monologue till the bell rang, when hewas hustled off, much to Bluebell's relief as well as his wife's, whoseset mouth relaxed as if a care had rolled away. 

Two or three officers on leave were pacing up and down, and with themanother young man, but, whether he were civil or military, Bluebellcould not decide. He was not exactly like either; there was a slightoddness about his dress, which, though well cut, was carelessly puton, and rather incongruous in different parts. The neck-tie was alittle awry, and not the right colour for the coat; still he seemedgentlemanly--rather distinguished-looking than not. 

These were all the portraits she took in till the bell rang for luncheon, and there was a general desertion of the deck. Being, by this time, veryhungry, Bluebell followed in the string, but felt dubious where to seatherself, as she found people had already appropriated their places bypinning their cards on the table-cloth. 

The captain, who had just come in, observing her, asked if she were MissLeigh, and then took her to a seat next but one to himself. 

"You must look upon me _in loco parentis_, " said he, good-naturedly, witha strong Scotch accent. 

Being the first friendly word she had heard, Bluebell thanked him with aheartiness of gratitude that caused her neighbour on the left to glanceat her with furtive interest. It was the young man with the derangedneck-tie. On her right was a haughty dame, who evidently consideredherself a person of position. Next the captain, on the opposite side, was an elderly widow lady, with weak eyes and rather methodisticalappearance; and on her left a fussy, brisk-looking little woman, of aboutthirty-five. Then came the bride and bridegroom, a doctor, an aunt andniece, and the rest were out of range of our heroine. 

Days at sea are very long, and this first one seemed nearly interminableto Bluebell. She walked on deck till she was tired, and read a book tillshe shivered, and then retreated to her cabin, to find the fussy littlelady of five-and-thirty extended on the sofa. "Ah!" cried she, "I havebeen wondering all day who my fellow-lodger was to be; let me introducemyself, as we are to have such close companionship. I am Mrs. Oliphant, of the 44th; you are Miss Leigh, I heard the captain say. I am lyingdown, you see, for I have such a dread of sea-sickness, and it is sucha good thing for it. "

They were not out of the river and it was like glass. Bluebell, feelingparticularly well, laughed inwardly, as she inquired if Mrs. Oliphant wasa bad sailor. 

"Middling; very much like the rest. You see I have been settlingeverything conveniently--while I can. "

She spoke as if she had just made her last will and testament, andcertainly everything was very commodiously arranged--for Mrs. Oliphant. Not a peg or a corner was left for any properties of Bluebell's, whoperceived she would have to keep all her effects in the portmanteau, anddrag it out for everything she wanted. 

"But I always try and cheer up other people, " said the little lady, complacently. "I have a bad bout, and then I go and visit others, andkeep up their spirits--going round the wards I call it. When I came out, Mrs. Kite, of our regiment, and Mrs. Dove, of the 100th 'Scatterers, 'would have laid themselves down and died if it hadn't been for me; but Iroused them--Mrs. Kite, at least--for poor Mrs. Dove gave way so, shewasn't out of her berth for a week, and could keep down nothing but apeppermint, and the stewardess never came near her. "

"But surely everybody won't be ill!" said Bluebell, somewhat appalled bythese statistics, and, with the close air of the cabin, feeling her headswim a little. "I believe it is better not to think about it. "

"Certainly; let us change the subject. Will you hand me myeau-de-Cologne? And so you have never been to England before. "

"Never, " responded Bluebell, not inveigled into giving any furtherinformation by Mrs. Oliphant's look of curiosity. 

"Perhaps you are going out now to be married?" (archly. )

"No, " said the girl, composedly; "if that were the case I should hope myintended husband would come and fetch me. "

"Well, " said the lady, finding she was to extract nothing, "I suppose wemust be getting ready for dinner. In the P. And O. It used to be fullevening costume, but one soon has to give that up on the Atlantic; so yousee I just change my body for a white Garibaldi, and put a coloured neton. I have four nets, mauve, magenta, green, and blue; these make a nicechange. "

But in spite of her extreme satisfaction in her own arrangements, shefelt secretly disgusted at the freshness of Bluebell's appearance in anuncrushable soft _barége_ trimmed with blue. It was also rather a blow toobserve those thick shining coils of chestnut hair were not supplementedfrom the stores of any Translantic _coiffeur_. 

When they came to dinner, a little more motion was perceivable as theywere entering the Gulf, and the table was mapped out with ominous-lookingframes of wood for the confinement of plates and glasses. The bride camedown gorgeously attired in a Parisian garb of mauve silk, cut square, butlooking slightly white and less secure of admiration than she had in themorning. 

"That is not a very serviceable dress for a sea voyage, " whisperedBluebell's neighbour, seriously. A few remarks had already passed betweenthem, and she had discovered him to have large, demure, brown eyes, thatnever appeared to notice anything except for the gleams of secretamusement that occasionally danced in them. "It quite sets my teeth onedge seeing those stewards tilting the soup close to and trampling onit. "

"She must be a bride, I suppose, " returned Bluebell, "and has so many newdresses, she doesn't care about spoiling one or two. "

"Heavens! what a view of matrimony! And these are the reckless opinionsof young ladies of the present day! Why, Miss Leigh, the greater part ofmy great-grandmother's _trousseau_ still exists in an old trunk; and mycousin Kate went to a fancy ball in her tabinet paduasoy, which was asgood as new. "

"How tired they must have got of their things! I should like to have anew dress every day of my life, and a maid to take away the old ones, "cried Bluebell recklessly. 

"How much does a dress cost--making, trimming, and all. "

"Oh, some would be simple and inexpensive, of course--say, on an average, £6 all round. "

"That would be more than £1, 800 a year, without counting Sundays. You'llhave to marry in the city, Miss Leigh. "

"I shall have to make £30 a year supply my wardrobe--and earn it, "returned she, lightly. 

This admission did not lower her in the estimation of the chivalrousyoung sailor, for such he was, though it cooled the already slightinterest taken in her by the portly lady on the other side. 

Mrs. Oliphant, who had made acquaintance with everybody, was gabblingaway with her accustomed volubility. 

"Oh, my dear Mrs. Rideout, have you tasted this _vol-au-vent_? You really_should_. I have got the bill of fare" (with girlish elation). "There'sfricandeau of veal, calf's-head collops, tripe _à_--" here she stoppedshort, confused at the shocking word. 

Bluebell and the young lieutenant had arrived at sufficient intimacy toexchange a merry glance. 

In the mean time, the bride was enacting the pretty spoiled child, andresisting the solicitations of her husband--a spoony-looking infantrycaptain--that she would endeavour to eat something. "Every one says itis so much better, " reiterated he. 

"But I am not hungry, " said the baby, with most interesting _naiveté_. 

"Try a _rawst_ potato, ma'am, " said the captain, in his broad accent. "There's many a one will eat a _rawst_ potato who can't care for anythingelse. "

The bride made a little _moue_, and shook her head, then admitted thatshe fancied a piece of raspberry tart, though the captain protested thatif she would eat anything so injudicious, a gentle nip of whisky would beadvisable to correct it. 

Captain Butler, the happy bridegroom, was evidently still in the adoringstage, so he listened complacently to his wife's silly badinage with theskipper, whom she informed, apparently for the information of thecompany, that she was just nineteen, but winced a little at her furtheradmission that they had only been married a week. 

A slight but monotonous roll and general chilliness, seemed to portendthey were getting into a more open sea, and, as the motion increased, thesaloon began to thin a little. The bride's prattle deepened into moaningsand complaints; she was laid on the sofa, covered with shawls, andsupplied with sal-volatile and smelling-bottles by her devoted spouse, who began to look deadly pale himself. 

Mr. Dutton, Bluebell's neighbour, had gone for a smoke with the skipper. Mrs. Oliphant was also an absentee; she had tottered from the saloon theinstant the wind freshened, with a contortion of countenance thatbetokened her dallyings with the _vol-au-vent_ would be severely visited. Mrs. Rideout, the lady of position, went off on the arm of her maid, whohad not yet succumbed. 

Bluebell, determined to resist the whirling in her head, took out somework on which she tried to fix her attention. The elderly widow waslooking over a missionary book with woodcuts, and they occasionallyexchanged sentences. 

The discomposing rocking of the vessel continued, and the moan of thewinds mingled with the incessant complaints of Mrs. Butler on a distantsofa, who was as communicative respecting her anguish as her age. 

Tea and the return of some of the gentlemen a little relieved themonotony. Bluebell was languidly experimenting on a piece of dry toast, when the loud crying of a child attracted her attention, and, the stewardleaving the door open, a little girl of four plunged in. She recognisedher as one of the children with the tipsy father. The mother had dined inthe ladies' cabin, and retired to her berth to lie down, and this lostlamb was searching for her. 

"Come here, my dear, " said Mrs. Jackson, the widow lady. "Don't cry, what's the matter?"

But "I want mamma, " was the only reply, without any cessation of shrieks. 

"Oh, hush! look at these pretty pictures; here's Moses in thebull-rushes. "

A momentary glance, and then the cries redoubled. 

"Phoebus, what lungs!" ejaculated Mr. Dutton. "Come here, child, "authoritatively, holding up a lump of sugar. 

A slight lull, and a hesitating zig-zag movement in his direction. Hemade a grab as she came within reach, placed her on his knee, and pusheda bit of sugar into the month opened for a roar. 

"I am quite ashamed of you, making such a noise. Don't choke, there'smore sugar in the basin. Wipe your eyes, and see if you can possibly lookpretty. "

Bewildered, but distracted by the sugar, the tears ceased. 

"What is your name? Mary, I suppose. "

"No, no, " indignantly, "H'Emma. "

"H'Emma! You little cad, what is the H for? Say Emma. You can't? Then nomore sugar. "

"Emma, " repeated the astonished child. 

"That's right; here is another lump. Miss Leigh, may I ask you to reachme a very pretty book of coloured animals I saw behind you? Now, Emma, there is a tabby cat, just like you have at home. "

"No, mamma drove it away;" and, the grief returning, "Oh! where's mamma?"

"She isn't coming while you make that noise, and I fear she must be awicked woman to drive a poor cat away, --she will never have any luck. Now, what's that?"

"A 'orse, " triumphantly. 

"Where _were_ you riz! Say horse. That's right; don't forget. A pig, asow, a goose, " and so on, half through the book. "Now I'll shut it, andyou can go to bed. "

"No, no; see the rest, " said the now excited child. 

"Which would you rather have, mamma or pictures?"

"Pictures. Show them quick. "

"Very well; then mamma may go to blazes. We don't want her bothering heretill we have done. What did you say was the name of that animal?"

"A 'orse. "

"What did I tell you? You will never be a lady if you leave out yourh's. "

At this moment the mamma appeared. "Oh, " said Mrs. Jackson, "your littlegirl was crying so for you, till that gentleman succeeded in amusingher. "

"I 'ope, sir, she 'asn't been very troublesome? The baby, 'e 'as been sofretful with 'is teeth, or I should 'ave come for H'Emma sooner. "

"The gentleman said H'Emma was vulgar. "

"Don't you tell stories, miss. The gentleman wouldn't 'ave you calledhout of your name. "

Bluebell laughed at Mr. Dutton's slightly confused appearance, and askedif he thought his corrections would survive the force of example. 

"I might have known whom she had learnt it from. "

Then, after a moment's hesitation, he asked Bluebell if she couldplay chess; and, on her replying in the affirmative, he produced apocket-board. 

"I always take it to sea with me, " said he, "and make out problems. "

Bluebell was beaten, and he tried to teach her a more scientific game. And the evening passed away pleasantly to those two at any rate. 

On retiring to her cabin, she perceived a strong smell of brandy, andfound Mrs. Oliphant ensconced in the lower berth. Evidently the time for"cheering other people" had not arrived, for her complaints wereincessant. The ship was rolling considerable, and Bluebell found somedifficulty in undressing, and more in clambering into her berth. She hadnot been there many minutes when she was startled by the apparition ofa man walking straight into the cabin, who explained his errand byunceremoniously putting out their lamp. 

Then she fell into a dreamless slumber, but was not long allowed arefreshment denied to her companion, who, in all her wakeful moments, insisted on keeping up a querulous conversation, till Bluebell, indespair, feigned sleep, and would no longer reply. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

HARRY DUTTON. 

 But hapless one! I cannot ride--there's something in a horse That I could always honour, but never could indorse. To speak still more commercially, in riding I am quite Averse to running long, and apt to be paid off at sight. In legal phrase, for every class to understand me still, I never was in stirrups yet a tenant but at will; Or, if you please, in artist's terms, I never went a-straddle On any horse without "a want of keeping" in the saddle. --Hood. 

The next morning was rougher than ever. The stewardess brought Mrs. Oliphant's breakfast; but Bluebell, eager for more congenialcompanionship, dressed, and went down to the saloon, where she receiveda cheery welcome from the captain, who said he had hardly hoped to havehis breakfast-table graced by the presence of any ladies on so wild amorning. 

The widow was also stout-hearted, and, evidently considering it rightto take the only young lady under her chaperonage, advised her afterbreakfast to remain below and work with her. Bluebell was of a gratefuldisposition, and acquiesced, but secretly thought it rather dismal, so, when Mr. Dutton came down and begged her to go on deck, as they werepassing through some magnificent icebergs, she willingly pocketed hertatting and went up. The young lieutenant got a couple of rugs andarranged her comfortably. Certainly the roll of the ship was much morebearable on deck. 

Mr. Dutton remained to amuse her, and, both being young, they speedilybecame confidentially communicative. She learnt from him that he had justbeen promoted out of his ship, and was going home till he got another. "At least, " he amended, "it is more my home than any other. I am going tostay with my uncle, who would like me to give up the service, and remainwith him altogether. "

"Is he so very fond of you?"

"Why, yes, in a sort of way. You see he has got no one else. He neverwished me to go to sea, but when I was at school a brother of one of thefellows came, who had just passed as naval cadet, and he had such a lotof tuck, and tin, and presents, that we were all wild to go too. Mygovernor had some interest, and I never ceased tormenting him, till atlast he got me appointed to the 'Sorceress. ' After I had been a monthat sea I had had quite enough of it; but we were on a five years' cruise, and by the end of that time I liked the life as well as any other. "

"Then why should your uncle want you to give up your profession?"

"Because, " blushing slightly, "he always says I shall be his heir, and hewishes me to take an interest in the estate, and learn to be a countrygentleman. But after I have been on shore a month or so the monotony ofit is awful, and I feel as if I must do something desperate if I stopquiet longer. "

"I thought English country gentlemen found plenty of excitement inhunting and shooting. "

"Not all the year round, " with a smile; "and, besides, I can't ride! Now, Miss Leigh, if you were an English girl, you would never speak to meagain! I don't fear the obstacle, and would ride anything anybody likesto trust me with; but I know, and the _horse_ knows, he could get rid ofme at any minute. I hunt sometimes, and go straight if the quad. I amon is fond of jumping; but I cut a voluntary as often as not, and thensome fool is sure to come up and say, --'You had no business to haveparted at that fence, Dutton; the horse took it well enough!' Then I haveno 'hands, ' I am told. Certainly, whenever I take up the rudder-lines toput his head for any particular course the brute takes it as a personalaffront, and begins to fret, go sideways, and bore and all but tell mewhat a duffer he thinks me. There's my cousin Kate, who will spoon withme by the hour in a greenhouse, and dance as often as I like to ask her, but at the cover-side she is so ashamed of me she shuns me like theplague; and then, of course, next ball it is, 'Dear Harry, _do_ introduceme to Major Rattletrap, ' or some such soldier officer, 'I like the lookof him _so_ much. '--'I just offered to, ' says I, 'but he didn't seem torise; said his card was full. Seems sweet on that girl in pink, withblack eyes. ' That's a school friend of Kate's, whom she is mortal jealousof. "

"As if she believed a word of it!"

"Oh, didn't she, though! She bit her lip, and looked shut up. I havegreat moral influence over Kate that way. "

"There's a grand iceberg!" cried Bluebell, after an amused pause, inwhich she had been trying to picture Cousin Kate: "What a strange shape;it must be hundreds of feet high. How cold it makes the air, though. "

"And you are shivering; I'll run and fetch another rug. It is warmer bythe funnel, only there are a lot of fellows smoking there. "

"But, Mr. Dutton, " said she, hesitatingly, "why don't you join them? Youhave given me all your warm things, and must be cold yourself. "

"I'll go if you tell me to, " said the lieutenant, looking full intoBluebell's eyes. She was silent, and the long eye-lashes came into playwhile she considered. She had promised Mrs. Rolleston not to flirt, butthere had been no question of that hitherto. Why should she throw away alittle pleasant companionship when she was so lonely? "I only spoke onyour account. " But she had flirting eyes, which said, only too plainly, "Go, if you can. "

"I don't think any one could feel cold near you, " he whispered, --andthen they both blushed. A minute after he ran off for the rug, andBluebell was left--to repent. "Oh, dear!" thought she, with very hotcheeks, "we must _not_ begin this sort of thing already, or there will bean end to all comfort--and as if I could ever forget!"

She received the rug with matter-of-course indifference, and looked upat him with the serenity of a nun; the young lieutenant was quick toperceive the change. He thought it wiser to follow suit, and they wereat ease again, though each remembered the other's blush. 

"I came upon a very touching tableau in the saloon, " said he; "the bridewas reluctantly pecking at some chicken, and that ass, Butler, feedingher with a fork. "

"Ah! those are your nationalities, " laughed Bluebell; "we don't do suchsilly things in Canada. "

"No, you are very stiff and stand-offish there, I know; that is why youdon't require chaperones. "

"What are the duties of a chaperone in England, beyond sitting up againsta wall all night, like an old barn-door hen?"

"But they mustn't roost, " said Mr. Dutton; "they have to guard theircharges from the insidious approaches of ineligible youths, and assistthem to entwine in their meshes the sons of Mammon. "

"But it must be rather difficult at a ball to distinguish who areeligible as you call them. "

"Oh, an astute and practised chaperone knows pretty well who everybodyis. They have books of reference, too, --the 'Peerage' and 'LandedGentry. ' I believe now, though, a good deal of matrimonial businessis done in the city. "

"And men have no objection to heiresses either, " said Bluebell, darkly, as a memory came over her. "There's the dinner bell. " He collected herrugs, and helped her down to the saloon, where they were betting how manyknots the steamer had made that day, and raffling for the successfulnumber. Mrs. Oliphant was present, almost as brisk as usual, for the windhad moderated, and the steamer laboured far less. After dinner some ofthe ladies joined in a game of shovel-board on deck. The bride, now quitebright again, insisted upon being instructed by Mr. Dutton, and became, with a view to his fascination, more helpless and infantine than ever, for she was one of those women who cannot bear any one to be an objectof attention but themselves. 

However, as she was not successful in detaching him entirely fromBluebell, she conceived a dislike to her, in which Mrs. Oliphantcordially participated, and they afterwards whiled away many an hour inthe dear delight of detraction. Bluebell was pronounced an unprincipledadventuress, determined to use every art to entrap this unsophisticatedyoung man, and each act and look on her part was treasured up by the twocensors for private analysis and discussion. 

Mrs. Butler, it is true, had less provocation to be spiteful than theelder lady; for being young and silly, she _was_ a certain object ofattraction to some of the officers; but the very indifference of Mr. Dutton gave a value to his admiration, and made her more eager to obtainit than that of the rest. Besides, the vacuity of mind and employmentat sea, a brisk flirtation is sure to attract lookers-on, and become afruitful incentive to malice and envy. Bluebell could not account for theunfriendly interest she excited, as her Canadian education had taught herto regard fraternizing _pro tem_. With any sympathetic masculinity a veryunimportant matter, and about as much a precursor to matrimony as if hercompanion were of the same sex; and she had been far too hard hit to bearany down-right love-making from another man so soon after. Mr. Duttonwas, perhaps, as inflammable as most sailors, but he could not makeBluebell out. She evidently liked his society, and became pleasant andanimated when they were together, which they were pretty constantly; yetif ever he ventured on anything tender she had a way of putting it by inthe most unembarrassed manner possible, which piqued while it perplexedhim. 

On one occasion, when she had let some warmer speech than usual glanceoff, he chose to take it as a snub, and, pretending to be offended, betook himself to masculine society and smoking. Bluebell was alone allday, a prey to the ill-natured watchfulness of her two enemies, whosequickened observation and exultant faces proved they had noticed thecessation of his attentions. Once or twice he passed her without a wordor look, regardless of the innocent surprise in her eyes. "Perhaps he istrying to gain 'moral influence over me, ' as well as his cousin Kate, "thought she, with a little laugh. At dinner he dropped into a seat nextMrs. Butler instead of his usual one by herself, and, from the bride'sincessant giggle, was apparently devoting himself to her entertainment. Bluebell had no one to speak to except the kind old captain, with whomshe was rather a favourite, and who chatted away willingly enough, tillshe ceased to hear that disagreeable and affected laughter. 

"Miss Leigh, " said a penitent voice in her ear, "will you come on deck?There's a little land bird in the rigging. "

"No, no, " said the captain. "I won't have this young lady disturbed; itis very cold on deck, and she is better here. "

"I thought you would like to see it, " said the lieutenant, gloomily. "Itis very tired--blown off shore, I should think. "

"Indeed, I'd like to give it some crumbs, " said she, hesitatingly. "Willyou take it some, Mr. Dutton?"

"Certainly not, " seeing his advantage, "unless you come too--in fact, I thought of shooting it. It would be pretty in your hat--or Mrs. Butler's. "

"That would be, indeed, a feather in your cap, " said Mrs. Oliphant withan unpleasant sneer. 

"Quite right, my dear, " said the captain, as Mr. Dutton walked away, "notto do everything a young man asks you;" and he assured Bluebell, who wasstill solicitous about the bird, that it would not venture down forcrumbs. 

Our heroine was vexed at Mr. Dutton's disagreeable manner, and beganmoralizing on the inevitable way in which she succeeded in estranging herfemale companions, and offending those of the other sex. 

The old captain was just going off to his bridge, when by someafterthought, he stepped back, and asked Miss Leigh if she would liketo sit awhile in his cabin. "You'll find no one there but the cat andthe parrot, " he said; and, on her gratefully assenting, led the way toa small oasis of comfort. 

The cat, a great brindled Tom, arched his back a yard high, and made asort of back jump up to his Master's hand, where he rubbed his head witha sociable miaw. Bluebell soon had him on her lap in a cozy arm-chair. 

"I think Master Dutton will be rather puzzled where to find you, "observed the old skipper, with a twinkle, as he was leaving the cabin. 

"Dear me, " said Bluebell, with a conscious blush, "I hope you don'tthink--that there's anything--of that sort--"

"I think you have been letting that young man keep you all to himself upin a corner quite long enough, " retorted he, "and you may as well showhim you can do without him;" with which he left her to her meditations. 

"How disagreeable good advice is!" thought the girl. "Dear old thing! Butit is so dull at sea--one must do something. I do wish though Mr. Duttonwouldn't try to spoon--he was awfully nice before he thought of it. "

Of course these two drew together again next day, and, though Bluebellstill evaded with Madonna eyes all approach to love-making, thelieutenant accepted the situation, and contented himself with flirting_sous le nom d'amitié_. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

ROUGH WEATHER. 

 I would be a mermaid fair, I would sing to myself the whole of the day; With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair, And still as I comb'd, I would sing and say, "Who is it loves me? who loves not me?" --Tennyson. 

One day there was a gale. It came up suddenly, and some ladies sitting ona bench were swept off by a roll and sudden lurch. The deck was sooncleared of the feminine element, with the exception of Bluebell, whoenjoyed an immunity from _malheur de mer_, and knew she would not be muchbetter off in her cabin, where Mrs. Oliphant had gradually ousted herfrom everything but sleeping accommodation. 

A huge roller had hurled itself over the steerage, and broken a man'sarm; but the part of the vessel she was on kept pretty dry. Stormypetrels were hovering in flocks; the ship, plunging head foremost intodeep troughs, seemed as if it must break its back or be swallowed up, butalways borne on the crest of a wave only to repeat the header nextminute. 

Bluebell was lying (for no other position could be preserved) on somerigs by the wheel, and holding on by a rope to prevent sliding about. Shefelt excited by the grandeur of the situation, and, in the pauses of thewind, sang low some wild German Volkslied. 

"Are you a Lorelei?" asked Mr. Dutton, who was never far off. "What doyou intend to do with the steamer?"

"I don't mean any harm to the ship, but I shan't lull the winds yet. Howdelightful and magnificent it is!"

"If you really don't mean to engulf us, and won't comb your golden hair, pray go on singing. I'll risk it. "

Bluebell nodded, and gave full play to her magnificent voice in thewildest Lieder she could remember. The man at the wheel, if he had everheard of a Lorelei, might have been excused for mistaking her for one. Alady to sit and sing in such a gale was not an every-day experience. Herbright hair was only covered by the hood of a deep-blue cloak, from whichher large eyes seemed to have caught a reflection, so dark were thepupils dilated with enthusiasm. 

"You might be a corsair's bride, " said Mr. Dutton, admiringly, "you areso indifferent to discomfort and danger. I can't fancy you shut up in apoky school-room, taking regular walks, and teaching Dr. Watts totiresome children. "

"I have only one pupil of a musical and romantic turn. You are altogetherwrong in thinking me indifferent to luxury; I am quite longing to be in acomfortable house again. "

"Your penance will be over in a day or two. Why do you stay out to bedrenched with spray and perished with cold?" very discontentedly. 

"How can I be either with all these wraps? and, when you are not sulky, your society _is_ preferable to Mrs. Oliphant's!"

"Yes; that is about my place in your--what shall I call it? Regard is anice, proper word, --just more acceptable than the plainest and mostspiteful woman on board. "

"Rather more than that, " said Bluebell, gently. "It would have been farworse without you; but after this voyage we are not likely to meet again, though I shall never think of it without remembering my friend. "

"What a nice word!" savagely. "Why don't you add, --

 'Others may woo me--thou art my friend?'

Do you know that song, Miss Leigh?"

"Yes, " laughing. 

 "'Lonely and sadly his young life did end; Pause by my tombstone, and pity thy friend. '

It's enough to draw tears from one's eyes. "

"Well!" said the lieutenant, "I never met a Canadian girl before, but Isee now they are the coldest, most insensible--oh! of course, you onlylaugh. How do you know we shall never meet again? Suppose I call on youin your new--situation. "

"Governesses are not allowed 'followers. ' I mean, male visitors would beconsidered as such. "

"Couldn't I get a tutorship in the same family?"

"There are no boys. Gracious! what a wave. Surely it is getting rougher, Mr. Dutton?"

"Well, yes. I think I must take you down. The next roller may wash overyou. Lean all your weight on me, or you'll be blown off your feet. "

In a most incoherent manner she reached the gangway, and, clinging to thebanisters, reeled into her cabin, where was Mrs. Oliphant in hysterics. The stewardess was in attendance, and she was insisting on herimmediately fetching the captain, as, without his assurance that therewas no danger, she declined to be calm. 

"As if the captain could leave his bridge!" said Bluebell, laughing. "AndI am sure the ship would go down if he did. "

Another shriek from Mrs. Oliphant, who, with a desperate effort, seizedon a life-belt, and called to the stewardess to assist in its adjustment. 

"Oh, dear!" cried Bluebell. "And what is to become of me? However, youare quite welcome to it. I had sooner be drowned at once than bob abouton a wave, with sharks nibbling at my toes for an hour or twopreviously. "

"Perhaps, ma'am, now this young lady be come, who seems to have a goodheart, " said the stewardess, "you will let me go to Mrs. Preston and Mrs. Butler, who have been wanting me ever so long. "

"No; I will not be deserted. Mrs. Butler has her husband and Mrs. Prestonhas her maid. "

"Oh, she is worse than all! She sent down for Mrs. Preston to come up andspeak to her, as she was dying as fast as she could, and the poor ladycouldn't as much as lift her own 'ead. "

"And you are not so very bad, " said Bluebell, encouragingly. "Think ofMrs. Dove, of the 100th 'Scatterers, ' and don't give way. "

So, partly by laughing and partly by gentle determination, she broughther round, and favoured the escape of the stewardess. 

It was not a very agreeable task soothing this selfish and cowardlywoman; and she was by no means assured that there was no cause foranxiety. Her thoughts reverted to Bertie. Suppose they were all drowned. In theory she hoped Cecil would be happy with him. Still there was a_soupçon_ of gratification in imagining him mourning in secret anguishand remorse over her untimely end. She remembered his favourite poem inthe "Wanderer" that Cecil used to read, and the lines, --

 "I thought were she only living still, How I could forgive her and love her. "

Only in this instance forgiveness was more due from her. 

Mr. Dutton here knocked at the door, to offer to help them up stairs todinner; but Mrs. Oliphant had dropped asleep, exhausted by her emotions, so they went up alone. Only a few gentlemen were in the saloon, and thewidow lady, whom everybody had begun to like, she was so unselfish andcontented. 

Dinner was consumed in a picnic fashion. Bluebell's modicum of sherry hadto be tossed off at once in a tumbler, for the glasses were dancing ahornpipe on the table, plates required a restraining hand, and theircontents to be conveyed to the mouth with as much accuracy of aim as wasattainable. 

She thought compassionately of the careworn mother of H'Emma, whoprobably would have been quite neglected during the gale, and determinedto take her something, and get Mr. Dutton to carry it and steady her ownfootsteps. Nothing could exceed the discomfort in which they found them. The nursery-maid was imbecile from terror and prostrate with sickness, and the harassed mother doing the best she could. 

To begin with, H'Emma had received a whipping, which, however undeserved, was probably the most judicious course, by inspiring fortitude, andcutting off all hopes of undue indulgence. 

The poor woman was very grateful for the visit. "No one had been nearthem, " she said; "and the girl was so frightened, and H'Emma had screamedso, she was at her wits' end. "

"I am surprised at you, Emma!" said Mr. Dutton. "When, you are grownup you may be as frightened as you please; but if you don't practiseself-command as a child, you'll be very properly whipped. "

At this allusion to her misfortunes another howl seemed impending, onlythat her attention was arrested by an orange tossed carelessly in theair. 

"Whoever catches it may have it. Don't look at mamma; she has abdicatedfor the present, and we are here to put the kingdom to rights. Don't youthink, Emma, " in a whisper, "it would be a very good thing if thatsqualling, bald-headed young fraternity of yours were slapped?"

"Mammy says it is his teeth. "

"No reason he should set ours on edge. I'd compose him if I had thechance! Well, Miss Leigh, if I can't fetch anything else for this lady, I'll go on deck, and return presently to report progress and help youback again. "

The storm raged for many hours more, and struck terror into the hearts ofthe women and children. Mr. Dutton and some of the other gentlemen wereup all night, as well as the captain and officers; but the morning rosecalm and delicious over a sleeping sea, and cheerfulness and high spiritsreigned in the ship. They were within a day of land, too--a more welcomeprospect than ever, after the perils and dangers of the night. Thedinner-table had scarcely an absentee, and was far more lively than ithad ever been yet. 

"One can sleep comfortably to-night, being so near land, " cried thethoughtless Mrs. Butler. 

"There have been more shipwrecks off the coast of Ireland than anyother, " said Mr. Dutton, sardonically. He was the only one who did notdisplay unmixed delight at reaching England; and, when other people areexuberantly rejoicing at the very thing that is annoying ourselves, tomoderate their transports a little is a satisfaction. 

"Oh, how can you be so shocking! But I don't believe you. Once we are insight of land, if there were any danger, what would prevent us gettinginto boats and rowing to it?"

And then Mr. Dutton plunged into a ghastly tale of a steamer that hadstruck on the Irish coast at night, and the passengers had to take to theboats in their bed-clothes. One poor mother, with a baby tied on her backwith a shawl, and another child in her arms, found the shawl empty, theinfant having slipped out into the sea; and how they remained beatingabout for hours before they could land, nearly perished with cold frominsufficient clothing. 

Everybody seemed provided with similar anecdotes, and yarn succeeded yarntill late in the evening, when a message from the captain that Irelandwas in sight brought them all on deck. The moon was shining softly overthe beautiful mountains and valleys of ----. A more exquisite littlepicture could hardly have been presented to the eye wearied of perpetualgazing on the pathless ocean. Exclamations of delight were heard on allsides, while some prosaically remarked it was almost as fine as scenes in"Peep o' Day" or "The Colleen Bawn. " To Bluebell it was fairy-land. Tobegin with, she had never seen a mountain, and the picturesque in Canadais on too large a scale for the little details that give beauty toscenery. Her conception of the Emerald Isle, founded on Lover's balladsand Lever's romances, was completely realized. 

"How haunting!" said she, in a hushed whisper. "What a pity to go anyfurther, and be disenchanted, perhaps!"

"I wish, " said Mr. Dutton, "you would think you might go further and fareworse in another case, "--which ambiguous speech, it must be supposed, wasnot intended to be taken literally; for, though youthful susceptibilityand propinquity had given birth to a hasty passion, and he was savageenough at the prospect of parting, to a young man dependent on an uncleand residing chiefly at sea a penniless wife might have itsembarrassments. 

Bluebell had glided down the companion again. The mails were landed, thepilot came on board, and next morning they were steaming into the Mersey. Many of the passengers had got letters, and were talking of their plansand fussing about luggage. 

"How refreshing it is to see some one without that business look!" criedMr. Dutton to Bluebell, who was leisurely reading in the saloon. "Buthave you no goods or chattels, Miss Leigh? And ought not you to have aletter with sailing orders?"

"I have two boxes somewhere in the hold. No, I didn't expect a letter, Iwas to telegraph at Liverpool, and come right off. This is the address:--

 "Mrs. Leighton, "Leighton Court "Calmshire. "

"Why, that is my line!" said the sailor, mendaciously. "I can travel withyou as far as Calmshire. "

"Can you really? How very strange! But I suppose England _is_ a smallplace, " said Bluebell, _naively_. 

"Oh, extremely insignificant! I shall be able to see you safely to yourjourney's end. So that's all settled. Now I will go and look if yourluggage is coming up, for I suppose we shall land in an hour or two. "

Bluebell's curiosity was excited by the _Times_ newspaper, which agentleman had just laid down. It was only the advertisement sheet, forsome one else had immediately snapped up the rest, and she glancedvaguely down the first columns, puzzling over such enigmatical insertionsas "Our tree, our bridge, our walk, " "What shall we do with the Tusk?"and that "John is entreated to write and send remittances to hisafflicted Teapot, "--when her eye lit upon the following name among thedeaths:--

 "On the 22nd inst. , at Leighton Court, of scarlet fever, Evelyn Cora, only child of Mrs. And the late Henry Leighton, Esq. , aged eleven years. "

Bluebell sat petrified, --the ground cut beneath her feet, --she could onlybe shocked for the poor child whom she had never known. But what was tobecome of herself in a strange land, with no place to go to? BesidesLeighton Court there was not a place in all England, except an inn, thatshe would have a right to enter; and in a few minutes more the shelterof the ship would be withdrawn, --even now she could see the smoke of thetug coming to disembark them. Perfectly appalled and unnerved, she pushedthe paragraph towards Mr. Dutton, who had just entered, and gazedhelplessly at him with large frightened eyes. 

He took in the situation at a glance, and the thought that had struck himbefore of the strangeness of sending this beautiful girl, like a bale ofgoods, to an unknown country, where she had no connections, returned withconfirmed force. How friendless she was! But slenderly supplied withmoney, of course. A daring possibility had darted into his mind. It wasan irresistible temptation, --and sailors are proverbially reckless. Matrimony hitherto had never entered into his views. It would entailleaving the navy and living with his uncle, who, though kind, wasarbitrary enough, and would have very decided opinions upon whom hischoice should fall. Connection, money, he knew would be a _sine qua non_. More than one well-born and tochered _débutante_ had successively beenindicated to him as a bride that would in all respects suit LordBromley's views; and Bluebell, as far as he knew, fulfilled none of theseconditions. All the same the struggle in his mind was in combatting thedifficulties that opposed his resolution to marry her. 

Bluebell, of course, could not guess his thoughts, and she only felt verydesponding that he seemed unable to suggest anything. 

"Oh, Mr. Dutton, " she cried, "do go and tell the captain, and ask himwhat I had better do! He is sure to think of something, --for a day ortwo, at any rate. "

The young man looked up with a strange smile, but there were otherpersons present. "Certainly, " he said, with rather a constrained manner. "I will go and tell him, "--and Bluebell, mistaking his reserve forcoolness, felt disappointed. 

The captain was very busy, and not too well pleased at being interrupted, but when he had mastered the intelligence he gave it his whole attentiondirectly. 

"Eh, the puir lassie!" he ejaculated, "wha's to become of her!"

"There's only one thing that I can do, " said the lieutenant, briefly. 

"You!" said the skipper, whose remark had been an exclamation, not aninterrogation. "What the mischief could you do? I am doubting what theguidwife will say, but I am thinking I must _jeest_ take her home. "

"Oh, how good of you, sir!" said the young man, seizing his hand, unobservant of the dry cynical look in his eyes. "But I trust it will notbe for long, as I must tell you, in confidence, if she will only consent, I intend--I hope to marry Miss Leigh immediately. "

"You be d--d! I will have no such goings on. If the lassie comes to me, she will act conformable; and, if you think you are in a position tomaintain a wife, you may consult your _feymily_; I'll have no suchresponsibility. "

"You are, of course omnipotent in your own ship, " said the young sailor, angrily, "but you need not forget you are speaking to a gentleman. "

"As far as I can see they are no honester than other people. I onlybelong to the respectable class myself, and I'll no have it. "

"What a fool I was to tell you! But surely, " half laughing, "matrimony isan honourable institution. "

"I kenna--I kenna. I'll give the bairn shelter till she hears from herkin, but I'll have no marrying or such like, to be called to account formayhap afterwards. "

But Mr. Dutton, only made more eager by opposition, sprang away to thesaloon, where Bluebell was sitting. 

"Yes, I have a message for you, " said he, in answer to her inquiringlook. "Will you come on deck? Here are your cloak and hood. "

He led her away, with rather a pale face, to the most secluded part ofit. 

"What did the captain say?" she asked. 

"The captain is a canny, suspicious, pigheaded old Scottish-man!"

"Of course, of course, " very despondingly, "no one can do anything forme. I must go to a lodging, and advertise for another situation. "

"They will want a recommendation from your last place. "

"Well, I can get it from Canada. "

"And that will take a month. Bluebell, listen to me; for there's no timeto beat about the bush. I love you, my sweet child; but that you knowalready. Will you marry me? Don't start. I know it is sudden, but itwill be all easy. Directly we land we can drive to a register office;they will ask no questions, but marry us right off, and we can have itdone over again in a church, if you like. "

Bluebell began to wonder how many more sensational minutes this hour wasto contain. 

"Mr. Dutton, " she gasped, in a horrified tone, "what _are_ you saying?You must know it is impossible. "

"Summon all your moral courage, Bluebell. You were not afraid in thestorm. Why do you shrink from acting a little out of the common?"

This speech was so like what Bertie would have said, that it nearlybrought the tears to her eyes. 

"Pray say no more, " said she, shrinking away from him. "How could I ever_dream_ of such a thing!"

"_Can't_ you care for me, Bluebell--ever so little?" pleaded HarryDutton. 

"But that would be so _very_ much!"

Her strange wooer grew more eager, for the moments were passing, andBluebell was at her wit's end, when the skipper came rolling up to them. The delight and relief with which his proposal of taking her home wasreceived was far from pleasing to Mr. Dutton, and Bluebell, in herlightened heart, felt some self-reproach at the sight of his gloomycountenance. 

The captain was hurrying her away, but she lingered a moment, and, withone of those speaking glances he had learnt to look for and love, put outher hand to the young sailor. 

"Stay with me, " he whispered; "it is not yet too late. " She shook herhead, "I believe you hate me!" he muttered, savagely. 

"No, " said Bluebell, impulsively saying more than she felt. "I like youonly too well--but not enough for that. "

"Any more last words?" said the skipper, who had stood asidegood-humouredly, master of the situation. 

"I have nothing further to say, " said the young man, stiffly, making wayfor her to pass. 

A minute more, and she was rowing to shore in the captain's boat, whothen put her into a cab to drive to his home. 

Now, the good skipper, such an autocrat on board his vessel, was by nomeans so under his own roof-tree, and sundry misgivings obtrudedthemselves as to the welcome he might receive from the wife of his bosomwhen a comely young lady was to be included in it. 

"She'll no jeest like it at first, " he muttered, half aloud; and as themoment approached and apprehension intensified, he repeated the remarkstill louder. 

This moderate expectation was amply justified by the event. The good ladyreceived the explanatory introduction with a snort, and a countenanceexpressive of contempt and disbelief, while she ironically "feared therewould be nothing in the house good enough for her. "

Bluebell endeavoured to excuse her unlucky presence, the best argumentshe could think of being that she would advertise for another situationimmediately. Only for the fear of offending the captain, she would haveadded that she was prepared to pay for her board, which, by putting it ona business footing, would doubtless have commended itself to the dominantpassion of her hostess's mind, and dispersed the misgivings she atpresent entertained of this "fine madam. "

The general stiffness was relieved by the boisterous greetings of thecaptain's boys, who had just rushed in from school; but it was a terribleevening to Bluebell, feeling _de trop_, and unable to calculate how soonshe should be released. 

"Ye'll jeest put her in Phemie's room, " the skipper had said. (Phemie wasa daughter lately married. ) "How will I do that, " was the respondingretort, "when the carpet is up, and the iron bedstead was broke by Rab aweek syne?"

"Well, then, Rab will jeest let her have his bed, " said the captain, equably brewing himself some whiskey-and-water, --and so on through theevening, during which Mrs. Davidson by no means softened the trouble andinconvenience Bluebell's presence occasioned, whose spirits fell to theirlowest depth. 

Was it to be wondered at that Harry Dutton recurred pretty constantly toher mind? She could think calmly now of the proposal that had so startledher before. It was, at any rate, a sincere, straightforward offer ofmarriage, and so far he contrasted favourably with Bertie, whom she haddetermined to forget. But, then, she had dismissed him--he had gone awayto his uncle's, and they would probably never meet again; and as when athing is out of reach it becomes immediately enhanced in value, she beganto regret her lost lover, and to think that there, perhaps, might havebeen a short cut out of her difficulties. We are aware that this unluckyadmission must depose her at once from the rank of a heroine, as it iswell known a heroine never for an instant suffers interest to enter intothe sacred claims of love. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

BLUEBELL'S DEBUT IN THE OLD COUNTRY. 

 Says "Be content my lovely May, For thou shalt be my bride. " With her yellow hair, that glittered fair, She dried the trickling tear, And sighed the name of Branxholm's heir, The youth that she loved dear. --Scott. 

Next morning Bluebell rose early, and wrote out an advertisement, inwhich she described herself, more truthfully, than diplomatically, as ayoung person of eighteen, proficient in music, but not skilled enough inother branches of education for advanced pupils. 

The captain promised to write to Mrs. Leighton, reporting her arrival, and explaining that "Miss Leigh would not think of intruding on her inher bereavement, but only requested permission to be allowed to apply toher as a reference when she heard of another situation. " He added, "Thatin the meantime Miss Leigh was remaining in his family. "

Armed with the advertisement, Bluebell pensively walked off to get itinserted in the _Liverpool Mercury_. The captain lived in a suburb of thetown, and had given her clear directions how to find the office. It was adisagreeable walk, and she was obliged to concentrate all her attentionon not losing the way, so her thoughts could not well stray to HarryDutton; but ere she had proceeded many streets--she met him! He waslooking very haggard, but eagerness and triumph lighted up his largebrown eyes as he perceived her. Bluebell was in a state of half terror, half delight, and whole bewilderment. 

"How is it you are still in Liverpool?" she gasped. 

"I have been walking about all day in hopes of meeting you!" cried he, disregarding her question. 

Bluebell felt as if she had recovered an old friend. She told him of herrough reception by Mrs. Davidson, and how annoyed she was at being forcedto remain there an unwelcome guest. 

The answer to this was obvious, but the lieutenant would say nothing nowto scare her. 

"Why we have got to the river, " she said, after some unheeded period ofeager conversation, "and my advertisement! It must be miles from theoffice!"

"Much too far to go back, " said the sailor "Give it me, I will insert itfor you. "

"Thank you, " said the heedless Bluebell. "That will be so muchpleasanter, and we need not thread those horrid streets again!"

There was nothing more to do but to go home, and yet she didn't directly. There would be only Mrs. Davidson in, who was so ungracious anddisagreeable, and she lingered half an hour or so, talking to HarryDutton, who would, perhaps, be gone by to-morrow, but he wasn't, nor thenext day, nor the next. They never made any assignations, yet day afterday Bluebell met him, and for a brief space they were together. 

Harry Dutton was only twenty-two, he had been at sea all his life, andhad never been seriously in love before. But now he had completely losthis head, and all considerations were swept away by this overmasteringpassion, which his knowledge that Bluebell did not fully return onlyseemed to augment. His uncle was a selfish, exacting old man, but he hadbeen kind enough to this boy who, with the usual ingratitude of humannature, forgot everything to gratify the fancy of the moment. 

Dutton had never been thrown in contact with so pretty a creature, and, notwithstanding the apparent aberration of mind displayed in thusjeopardizing his prospects, laid his plans coolly and cleverly enough. Bluebell still talked of her impending governess life, and he kept hisown council, though firmly resolved never to lose sight of her again. 

She was beginning to wonder that her advertisements had elicited noreplies, and Mrs. Davidson had been especially unpleasant about it, whenone day the wished-for letter arrived. 

"Mrs. Giles Johnson, having seen 'B. L. 's' advertisement in the _LiverpoolMercury_, is requiring such a person to instruct and to take entirecharge of the wardrobes of five little girls, one of whom, being nervous, she would be required to sleep with. Mrs. G. J. Trusts she is obliging, and would have no objection, when the lady's-maid has a press of work, toassist her with it, or make herself generally useful in any other way. 'B. L. 's' attainments being apparently limited, and Mrs. Giles Johnsonhaving an abhorrence of music, she can only offer a salary of eighteenpounds a year. "

Bluebell alternated between tears and laughter on the perusal of thisletter. 

"Why, at the Rollestons', " she cried, "I had thirty pounds a year, onlyFreddy to teach, and did what I liked! But they were friends, "--and ahome-sick feeling came over her. 

"If ye just turn up your nose at every situation, ye'll never be placed, "said Mrs. Davidson. 

"Oh, perhaps I shall get another letter to-morrow. I would go back toCanada if I had money enough. "

Bluebell put on her hat. Whichever way she went she was quite certainof meeting Mr. Dutton, to whom she wished to display this wonderfuldocument. It was all very well to laugh, but it certainly was mostdiscouraging and vexatious. Yet Mr. Dutton, when she saw him, gravelyaffirmed it to be "quite as good an offer as he had expected, and wasonly surprised at her getting any answers at all, "--which well indeed hemight be, considering that the advertisement never appeared in any paper, and that the liberal proposals of Mrs. Giles Johnson were an emanationfrom his own brain. 

He proceeded to relate the most uncomfortable anecdotes of governess lifein England, making it appear that they were treated like white slaves, and expected to know everything. 

Bluebell, though only half believing it, began seriously to questionwhether her small attainments were saleable at all. Her friend thecaptain would go to sea again shortly, and having prevailed on Mrs. Davidson to receive a small contribution towards her board, the tenpounds were dwindling away. 

Then, when she was reduced to the depths of perplexity and depression, Harry Dutton cautiously pleaded his cause, and, as a strong will bent onone object will always sway an irresolute mind, Bluebell listened, andfor once tried to realize what it would be. She had been frightened atDutton's precipitancy in the first instance; but now he had become in amanner necessary to her, and she certainly liked him, --immensely. Still, of course, after her experience of the _grande passion_, this mere_entente cordiale_ could not be mistaken for the real article. But therewas another question: had she not, by meeting him so often, given him aright so to speak, with fair expectation of success? She had heedlesslywalked into the snare with her eyes open, and felt no resisting power tobreak through the mesh of circumstances that environed her. 

Bluebell wavered and hesitated. Harry followed up his advantage. Ere afew stars twinkled out, "single spies" on their colloquy, the strugglewas over, and the bold wooer had extorted from his _fiancée_ a promiseto marry him the following morning but one at a register office inLiverpool. 

The very next day they would probably not meet, as he had everything toarrange, and also to prepare a lodging for her, for they had determinedto leave Liverpool immediately afterwards. 

One thing only Bluebell retained her firmness sufficiently to stipulatefor, which was, that the kind old captain should be told of it. Mr. Dutton agreed, on condition that she did not breathe a syllable tillafter their marriage, when he promised to write himself and acquaint theskipper. 

Bluebell could scarcely trust herself to think as she walked slowly home. She felt quite reckless, and as though she were fated to do this act, that seemed so desperate. What would all her friends in Canada say?Somehow she did not look forward to telling the news to Mrs. Rolleston. She supposed Cecil would be pleased, and it might clear up mattersbetween her and Bertie. Ah! if it were only him she was going to bemarried to! Why does one always like the wicked ones best? She wished toimagine him desperate, remorseful, beside himself with jealousy. But sheknew that would not be so. At the utmost he would, perhaps, toss off abrandy-and-soda, give a tremendous sigh, and ejaculate, "Ah! poor, dearlittle Bluebell!" and then reflect that he would rather like to meet heragain, when there would be no question of marrying--the only thing he wasunprepared to do for her. 

From which tolerably accurate surmise our reader will perceive that ourheroine has rather come on in penetration since we first presented herfresh and verdant in these pages. 

Then she thought of her mother, and how disappointed she would be at notbeing present at the marriage. She had written to her on landing, butthis letter had been posted in Ireland. Since then she had acquainted herwith the facts of Evelyn's death, and of her own exertions to obtainanother situation, lodging in the mean time with Mrs. Davidson. 

On her re-appearance Bluebell was received somewhat coldly by the oldcaptain, who asked her where she could find to walk so long every day. Itwas very disagreeable having to answer evasively, and he did not appearsatisfied--on the contrary, eyed her askance all the evening. 

The reason was, he had accidentally observed Mr. Dutton coming out of anhotel, and was unable to conjecture what kept him in Liverpool, unless hewere lingering there on Bluebell's account. Connecting this with herfrequent absence from home, he began to think it time to be relieved fromthe responsibility of this dangerous young guest. He did not reveal hissuspicions to his wife, but the following day kept something of a watchover her, and proposed himself to accompany her out. 

Somewhat surprised by the placid gratitude of her reply, his suspicionswere still further allayed by seeing no sign of the lieutenant, for whomhe kept a sharp look-out. He told the girl--narrowly watching her all thetime--that there were many snares in Liverpool, and that unless he couldsee her safely placed in a _feymily_ before the next trip of the"Hyperion, " he must arrange with the owners for the passage-money, andtake her back to her friends, trusting to them to, repay him. 

"How generous you are, dear Captain Davidson!" was all she said. But henoticed she turned deadly pale, and two bright drops stood in her eyes. 

The idea was so tempting for a moment, with the irrevocable step of themorrow hanging over her like a troubled dream. What if she could returnto the old, happy, careless days, and leave this smoky, foggy England, where care and anxiety rose up at every step! But there is no going backin life. What should she do in Canada? Her connection with the Rollestonswas played out, and for every one's happiness it was better severed. There was scarcely any demand for governesses in the Dominion, as thechildren commonly went to school; so she would encumber her mother withthe expenses of the voyage, with no prospect of contributing anything toher very slender fund. 

All this passed rapidly through Bluebell's mind; but it soon settled intoan acceptance of what appeared the inevitable, while the good captaintalked on, hoping to induce her to place some confidence in him, if shedid know of her admirer's presence in Liverpool. 

The girl fathomed the old man's drift, and most heartily wished she hadnot promised to conceal it from him. It would be an unspeakable relief ifthis fatherly captain could only countenance and witness her marriage, tosay nothing of being spared the treachery of deceiving him after all hiskindness. But, there!--she had promised Harry, and must abide by herword. 

Only, that evening at bed-time, observing Mrs. Davidson buried head andshoulders in a cupboard she was straightening, Bluebell suddenly threwher arms round the old skipper's neck, gave him a silent hug, and glidedfrom the room, and in the solitude of her own wrote, as fast as pen couldscribble, an impulsive, affectionate letter of adieu, confessing what shewas to do on the morrow, which her husband (she did not mention his name)would then write and announce to him. 

"Eh! is the lassie daft?" had half murmured the not ill-pleased captain;then, perceiving that the salute had been bestowed without the detectionof his partner, a large slow smile expanded itself all over his broadface. 

"Wha are ye girning for like an auld Cheshire cat?" inquired theunsuspicious lady. 

"Nonsense, my dear; nonsense!" complacently stirring his grog and lookingrather foolish. His Scotch head had disapproved of what his good heart, of no nationality, had decided with regard to Bluebell. I am not surenow, though, that he did not think the money might be worse risked thanin taking this personable lassie another trip across the Atlantic. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

NO CARDS. 

 Love will make oar cottage pleasant, And I love thee more than life. --Tennyson. 

A dense November fog ushered in the dawn of the following day. Bluebellhad been awake for hours. Some men were mending the streets, and, as shelistened to the monotonous blows of their pickaxes and hammers, alugubrious fancy crossed her that just such sounds would a criminal hearwhen workmen were erecting the gallows that was to close his mortalcareer. By ten o'clock a new page of her life would be turned over, if, nervous and unstrung as she was, she were able to carry out the firstpart of the drama. Suppose the captain should object to her walkingabroad, or offer again to accompany her! And even if she effected astart, might he not, his suspicions awakened, quickly follow! The eighto'clock breakfast bell rang, and Bluebell came down with a white, scaredface and dark rims to her eyes. The captain appeared unobservant. To tellthe truth, the stolen kiss, which he probably considered "naughty, butnice, " had made him somewhat conscious. So he looked demure and rathersly; but the girl had forgotten the circumstance. 

The old Dutch clock ticked louder than ever, and, as usual, recordedthe quarters with an internal convulsion. At half-past nine the boyswould go to school, and, in the commotion of their departure, Bluebellresolved to pass from the threshold and go forth to her fate. She got herhat, --unnoticed and unquestioned was in the street, and groping her waythrough the fog with swift, unsteady steps. In two turnings from the doorDutton met her, a relieved, triumphant smile lighting his features as heplaced her in a cab. The man, previously instructed, drove rapidly off tothe register office. Bluebell, now the die was cast, felt almostfainting; but Harry's strong arm was round her, and in less than aquarter of an hour these two youthful lunatics were as securely andirrevocably married as though the ceremony had been performed by anarchbishop in full canonicals. The gold circlet was on her finger, with apearl one to guard it--of no great value, for Harry was aware there wouldbe sundry demands on his ready money. Bluebell, of course, could have noluggage, and he had put himself in the hands of a patronizing lady in anoutfitting establishment, and procured her a small stock of necessaries. He had received his pay, and not long since a liberal cheque from LordBromley; so the "sinews of war" were not wanting for the present. Theydrove straight from the register office to the station, and were in thetrain and far on their journey before Bluebell had the least idea wherethey were going to; indeed, if she had known, she would scarcely havebeen wiser, all places in England being equally strange to her. 

Dutton, rapturously in love, now that his schemes were successful, was ina state of exulting happiness almost overwhelming to Bluebell, secretlyoppressed with a sense of the irrevocable. She even caught herself, whenthey stopped at stations, wishing that some one would get in. Verydifferent was the first-class carriage from the long cars, containingsixty or seventy persons, that she had previously travelled in. But yetthere were four vacant seats, which in spite of the rush for places, continued unoccupied. Now and then their door was hastily clutched bysome passenger, but a guard seemed invariably to turn up and bear theindividual away to another carriage. About three o'clock they stopped ata very small station, where only one or two persons got out. 

"Here we are, Bluebell, " cried Harry, grasping rugs, sticks, andumbrellas, and throwing them to the porter. 

She sprang up and looked around with intense interest. They were nearingher first _pied-à-terre_ as a married woman. But the journey was not yetended, and they transferred themselves to a fly, in which an old greyhorse waited sleepily. 

"Lucky I thought of ordering it, " said Harry; "it is the only one here, of course. "

"Harry!" cried Bluebell, rubbing her eyes, as if only just thoroughlyawake, "have you got a house? Where in the world are we going to?"

"I couldn't think why you didn't ask that before, you little fatalist, taking it all in such a predestined way. I hope you don't think it a caseof the Lord of Burleigh over again? It is only a cottage, Bluebell; but Ithink it is comfortable, and one mercy is no one will be able to find ushere!"

The extreme advantage of this isolation scarcely seemed so apparent toher; and as the above sentence was the only connected or rational oneHarry gave utterance to, conversation, properly so called, was _nil_during the drive. After skirting a hanging wood, and passing some watermeadows, where red Herefordshire cows with white faces grazed under thelow wintry sky, they drove through a primitive village, and, turning downa bye-road, drew up at a queer gabled cottage. It was very picturesqueand odd-looking, and Harry, during his last leave home, had spent a nightthere on a visit to an artist friend, who was making sketches in theneighbourhood. 

Its proprietor, a carpenter, sometimes lived in it, and sometimes wasable to let it to gentlemen coming down to fish in the river. Onreceiving Dutton's telegram, he and his wife, who had given up all hopesof letting it for the winter, gladly laid down their best carpets, brought out their summer chintzes, and arranged everything in apple-pieorder, for the cottage was taken for a month certain. 

Harry had not forgotten to order a piano to be hired from the nearesttown. After their long journey it all looked very home-like andattractive. They ran about the house like two children, examiningeverything. The sitting-room was the prettiest, with its two bay-windowsat right-angles, low roof and rafters. The artist had gone abroad, andhad left some of his pictures on the wall in charge of the carpenter--abewitched Greuze, copied in the Louvre; the inevitable study of abird's-nest and primroses; a girl standing at a wash-tub by an openwindow, on the sill of which outside leaned an Irish peasant, with hishandsome, blarneying face. Then there were sketches taken in theneighbourhood. "I remember this one half finished on his easel, " saidHarry. It was a glade of a forest; in the fore-ground a huge oak, knee-deep in bracken, and tall blue hyacinths. "Look Bluebell, here isyour name-sake flower. "

"Oh, that is it! Well, I never saw one before; we have none in Canada. "

"I wish it were June now, " said Harry; "summer weather is what this placewants;" and he glanced out of the bay-window looking on a lawn, with aspreading cedar encircled by a seat. Some pinched chrysanthemums--thoseflowers that always look born in adverse circumstances--and one or twohardy roses still lingered. The clematis made a bold show on the porch, though the north wind had begun to detach its clinging embrace from themasonry, and make wild work in its tangled masses. 

"It must be lovely in summer, " said Bluebell, shivering, and feeling aslightly depressing influence creeping over her. They wandered out by thebanks of the river to a ruined abbey, which always attracted touristsduring the season. It was especially sketchable, and "bits" of it werecarried away in many an artist's portfolio. But it was desolate now, andflocks of jackdaws came screaming out of holes in the walls. 

I am painting from Bluebell's point of view, who could not shake off theweird feeling that possessed her, to which, perhaps, fatigue, mental andphysical, not a little contributed. Yet when they came in no depressioncould withstand the cheery look of the lamp-lit room, with its snowycloth laid for dinner, blazing fire, and closely-drawn curtains; and theyboth were unmistakably hungry, for the breakfast they had been toonervous to eat had been their only previous meal. 

The carpenter waited. Bluebell felt desperately conscious. His mannerwas so benign and protecting, and he coughed so ostentatiously beforeentering the room, she was perfectly sure he had guessed that they hadrun away that morning. He imparted shreds of local information to Harrywhile changing the plates, who answered good-humouredly, but would havepreferred to hear that the whole neighbourhood was wintering in Jericho. A sociable Skye terrier, who strolled in with the first dish, was rathera resource to the new-made bride, who found it easier to bend overArchie, sitting up for bones, than to sustain with imperturbability thecurious if furtive observation of the carpenter. 

A day or two after this evening, Harry, coming in from a smoke, sawBluebell, with a pleased, intent face, writing, as fast as the pen couldscratch, over some foreign paper. 

"Oh, Harry, " cried she without looking up, "we must not forget to walkinto the town this afternoon. It is mail-day, I have no stamps. "

Dutton's face became suddenly overcast. He jerked the end of his cigarinto the fire, and threw down his hat. 

"Whom are you writing to?" he asked. 

"To my mother, and everybody, " said Bluebell, gleefully. "I am tellingthem all about it. "

"The devil! My dear child, stop a little. "

"Why?" looking up surprised. "Oh, do you want to put something in? Itwould be nicer. I'll leave half a sheet. "

Harry looked the picture of vexation and perplexity. He had neverrealized Bluebell's relations, and here it seemed she was in regularcorrespondence with her mother and other friends. 

"My dear girl, for goodness' sake stop! My uncle does not know it yet, and you mustn't say a word to any one. "

Bluebell seemed rather bewildered. "Why don't you tell your uncle, then?And surely my mother would be equally interested!"

Dutton sat down for a long explanation, "I shouldn't so much have caredabout offending him before, but now I have you, Bluebell, it would beruin. I have nothing but my profession and what he allows me; and hedisinherited his only son for a marriage that displeased him. "

She gave a half start here. "What is your uncle's name. "

"Lord Bromley. "

"Oh, of course; you told me so before. Well, go on. "

"I shall run down to 'The Towers' presently, sound the old man, and breakit to him, if possible. If I could only take you, my darling, it ought todo the business! By Jove, I have a great mind to try!"

"But, " said Bluebell, reverting to her own immediate anxiety, "I musttell them at home what has become of me. Fancy, Harry, what a state theywould be in, not hearing! Let me, at any rate, say I am married, butcannot tell my name for a few weeks. "

"Well, mind you don't say more, " very gloomily. "I dare say there will beno end of a row, and they will be sending people to try and trace us. Impossible for a month, though, " he reflected. 

"And, Harry, did you write to Captain Davidson?"

He shook his head. 

"Oh, do, pray, or let me!"

"Now, my dear Bluebell, haven't we just agreed the fewer people who knowit the better? You say you left a letter telling him you were to bemarried, and it is no further business of his. Besides, he is asuspicious old nuisance, and would very likely come boring down here; andthen I should be sure to quarrel with him. Come along, put on your hat, and let us go out. "

"I must re-write my letter, " said she. It was much shorter than the otherone, and a sober look had dawned on her fair face when it was finished. 

More than once she resumed the subject, but never got any satisfactionfrom Dutton. "What did she want more? Could anything be jollier than thelife they were leading, with no one to bother them? Every one was alonein the honeymoon; and, once their marriage was confessed, it would be thebeginning of ceaseless annoyance, disagreeable advice from relations, shindies without end. "

Harry was still in the seventh heaven--more ardent in love with his wifethan ever; and this sweet little quiet home, with "the mystery andromance of it, " he was unwilling to tear himself from. To Bluebell itbore a different aspect. Marriage had deprived her of all her friends, and raised a barrier between the present and the past. There had been notime to grow to Harry, and he demanded so much. She was never alone, never free from this all-pervading passionate love that she felt quitepowerless to equal. Sometimes Bluebell marvelled he did not perceivethis, though nothing she dreaded more, for, since the discovery of howmuch he had risked for her, she was always blaming herself for notfeeling the exclusive devotion that could alone recompense him. 

To be suddenly deprived of all occupation, and sent to some unfamiliarplace to be absolutely happy for a month, is an ordeal custom imposeson most newly-wedded pairs; but a runaway match has severer conditionsstill, since no letters of affectionate interest can be expected fromfriends, and the bride has not even a trousseau to fall back upon. 

One morning after they had been married three weeks, a batch of letterswas forwarded to Dutton by his agent, to whom he had only lately givenhis address. One was from Lord Bromley, and had lain there some time. Oncoming in from a walk that same afternoon, they found cards on the table. 

"Just impertinent curiosity, " growled Harry. 

"Why?" cried Bluebell. "For my part, I think it is rather fun to have avisitor. Dear me, though, _I_ have no cards;"--and she coloured deeply asshe remembered that her marriage was still unacknowledged, even onpasteboard. 

"Bluebell, " cried Harry, impulsively, "I'll go to-morrow and make it allright with my uncle at once. "

"Oh, I _wish_ you would, " with deep energy. 

"And you don't mind being left?" he asked tenderly. 

"Oh, anything to have the secret at an end!"

"Bluebell, for goodness' sake don't expect too much! What if my uncledisinherited me? It is not at all unlikely. "

"Ah, Harry, " said Bluebell, softly, "that comes of marrying me. Why didyou not think of it first? I should be no worse off, " continued she, musingly; "I could give music lessons. It's hard on you, of course; but, Harry, do, pray, whatever are the consequences, tell him. "

"But you don't realize the consequences. I should be obliged to go tosea, leave you alone, and have scarcely any money to send you. But if hetook it pleasantly, he could make it worth my while to leave the navy, which he has always wished me to do, or let us have sufficient coin foryou to come to any port I am stationed at. As long as it was only myself, I didn't care so much; yet Bromley Towers _is_ worth saving, ifpossible. " A pause. "But I can't think what you will do while I am away. "

"Shall I cultivate our visitors, Mr. And Mrs. Stevens?"

"Not for the world; we must let them slide quietly, and then people willbegin to understand we don't wish to be called on. "

"I daresay you are right; this house must be an _oubliette_ till yourawful uncle is confessed to. " Bluebell spoke with some asperity; theconcealment had become so unbearable. What would the Rollestons think ifher mother imparted to them her improbable story of being married to aman who could not acknowledge her? And that dear old captain would mostlikely imagine the worst without her being able to undeceive him. ButHarry was deep in _Bradshaw_, and unobservant. 

"I shall sleep in London, I think, and go down next morning. Let me see, I shan't be able to get away till after the new year. Lord Bromley hasthe usual family gathering on for Christmas. "

"Won't the time of your return somewhat depend on the way yourcommunication is received?" asked Bluebell, demurely. 

"Well, rather, " laughing. "It won't do to bring it in head and shoulders. I must stay a little while first and watch my opportunity. "

Bluebell walked with him to the station next day. It was freezing hard--abright, bracing morning; and when he had taken his place, and the trainhad whistled off, she was shocked to find how her spirits rose. Ofcourse, she told herself it was because there would soon be no occasionfor concealment; but there was a sensation of present relief not quite tobe accounted for by that. 

Young people care quite as much as their elders for occasionalsolitude--more, perhaps, for they have generally brighter thoughts tofill it. Bluebell, from the reasons before mentioned, in her anxiouscompliance with his every whim, had become quite a slave to Harry, and alittle breathing-time was far from unwelcome. After all, she had a gooddeal exaggerated his sacrifice, which was made entirely to pleasehimself!

Leaving the road, Bluebell struck a path across some fields leading tothe river, and amused herself throwing sticks for Archie to fetch offits half-frozen surface--a diversion which soon palled on the Skye, who was not fond of water; so Bluebell wandered on, soliloquizing, as usual. Suppose this uncle, who loomed in her imagination like somedread Genie in his disposition over their fate should receive theintelligence by cutting off the supplies and hurling maledictions atHarry's head, what on earth would they do? She had always been veryfond of acting, --indeed, had been quite an authority in drawing-roomtheatricals and charades at "The Maples, " and with her magnificentpowerful voice, what a pity she could not go on the stage! She had readin novels of girls offering themselves to a manager and realizingfabulous sums, and eighteen pounds a year seemed to be her net value inthe governess market. Then Harry might go to sea for a year or two, --theywere both so young, --and by that time things might look brighter, or theGenie relent. 

She and Archie had a good time that bright winter day, and tiredthemselves out completely. He could pass from the immediate enjoyment ofa meal to a snooze on the rug before the fire; but after Bluebell had hadsome tea, there remained many hours at her disposal before bed-time. Shewould have liked to have written a long letter to her mother; but if itmust be worded so guardedly, where was the good? So she flew to herunfailing friend, the piano, and interpreted Schumann and Beethoven toa late hour, while the carpenter and his wife, listening in the kitchen, "wished that the lady would play something with a bit of tune in it, andnot be always practising them exercises. "

CHAPTER XXXI. 

BROMLEY TOWERS. 

 Had yon ever a cousin, Tom' And did that cousin happen to sing' Sisters we have by the dozen, But a cousin's a different thing --Hon. Mrs. Norton. 

Harry had stayed the night in London, and rather wished, for the present, it might be inferred that he had been there all the time. It was somedistance from Bromley Towers, and quite dusk as he drove through thepark. Snow was on the ground, and still falling slowly, the two roaringfires in the hall, as the doors were thrown open, flung a red light onthe holly berries and gigantic bunch of mistletoe suspended from thechandelier, and flickered on dark oil paintings let into the panels. Thefootmen were unfamiliar, but the old butler beamed on the young heir hehad known from a boy. 

Harry shook him heartily by the hand, and asked a dozen questions in abreath. There was a sprinkling of visitors already in the house, so, shirking the reception rooms, he made straight for a private passage, where in a certain study, he knew he should find his uncle. 

Lord Bromley seldom had his large house empty and there were ample meansof entertainment for guests, but, like a good general, he had a secureretreat from the perils of boredom in a sacred suite of rooms, to whichno one but his nephew had access. To Harry himself this particular studywas invested with a certain amount of solemnity, he had been summonedthere on so many notable occasions, --once to be sentenced to a thrashingfrom a malevolent tutor who had reported him, afterwards, before going toschool, to receive good advice, not unsweetened by a tip. Cheques hadbeen dealt out there, and his uncle's views for his future guidanceinculcated on him. Dutton entered now with somewhat of the feelings of atruant schoolboy, for had he not been on shore a month without comingnear the place or even writing?

He murmured something about London and business, which the old peerreceived with the merest elevation of the eyebrows, and was evidently notgoing to be unpleasant about it. He knew his nephew was just off a voyageand in possession of a handsome cheque, and was not ill pleased that heshould have had his fling, and have done with it before coming down. 

Besides, if some plans of his succeeded, he would soon have to _range_himself. 

Finding it was all right, and Lord Bromley disposed to be sociable, Harrymade himself as entertaining as possible, and was communicative enoughabout everything but the proceedings of the last few weeks. 

"I think you know most of the people in the house, " said his uncle, asDutton was retiring to dress, "except, perhaps, one or two men. LadyCalvert has brought her daughter here. She was not out, you know, whenyou last went to sea. "

"I remember her, though; projecting teeth and--"

"She will probably drop into all that Durnford property now Lionel isdead. "

When he came down to dinner, Lord Bromley introduced him veryparticularly to the few strangers present, who all thought how fond hisuncle seemed of him, and that he would surely be the heir. 

Dutton, like most careless dressing men, looked best in the regulationsimplicity of evening clothes, in which the despotism of fashion curbsall vagaries of fancy. More than one feminine critic smiled involuntaryapproval of the handsome young sailor, whose easy, slightlyunconventional manner, though singular, was not unattractive. 

He had been told off to take Lady Geraldine Vane in to dinner, and wentto renew acquaintance with her at once. She was dressed in a cloud ofblue tulle, and wore a heavy white wreath on her hair, which was verylight. Complexion she had none. She was pale without being fair. Herfeatures were irregular, lips thin, with projecting teeth, and eyebrowsscarcely apparent at all. Yet these defects were partly redeemed by onesole attraction, a pair of large, light eyes, with a great deal of heartin them. They could glisten with affection and brighten with interest, and were the faithful mirrors of a modest, sensitive, and naturallyamiable disposition. But Harry thought her, dress and all, the mostcolourless object, and longed to offer even a damask rose to break thecold, sickly effect. 

There was another young lady present, of a very different type to LadyGeraldine, --not exactly pretty, but evidently aiming at being _chic_. Herdress was of the latest fashion, and in a slightly audacious style, likewise the arrangement of her hair. She had a pretty, neat figure, anda way of seeing everything through half-shut eyes. This was Harry'scousin Kate. 

Perhaps it would be too much to say he was very fond of this youngdamsel; but, at any rate, he was delighted to find her there. "She issuch a jolly girl in a house!" he said to himself. 

Kate, then a finished coquette of ten, used to try her hand at flirtingwith the big schoolboy; and when she had him in a state of helplessadoration, and all his pocket-money was gone in presents to her, wouldturn him off in favour of his particular friend, who was spending theholidays at Bromley Towers. The two boys blacked each other's eyes inconsequence; but the capricious fair only remarked that "they had madesuch frights of themselves, the sooner they went back to school thebetter. "

As they grew up the intimacy continued. Kate would make use of him as anescort, and allow him to kiss her as a cousin. She also confided to himher love affairs, which at first made him very angry, but afterwards hesometimes suspected their veracity. 

Harry could not help watching her at dinner. He saw the amused face ofher neighbour, Colonel Dashwood, and sometimes caught her livelyrepartees. 

Lady Geraldine was rather tame, and not even pretty; it was up hill worktalking to her, and he was just in the humour for a chaffing match withcousin Kate. After dinner it was just the same: she was surrounded bymen, and Lady Geraldine, the only other girl, sat apart, with rather aplaintive, neglected look. 

"Why can't she talk to some of those old women?" thought Harry. But hefelt bound to try and amuse her, and, after a little desultoryconversation, ingeniously evaded the necessity of boring himself furtherby asking her to sing. She complied very amiably, and, as he stationedhimself near to turn over, saw it was one of Bluebell's songs. LadyGeraldine had been well taught, and sang accurately; but, oh! thecontrast of the thin, piping voice and expressionless delivery to therich tones and almost dramatic fervour with which Bluebell poured forthher "native wood-notes wild"! Then Kate came to the front, followed by adevoted cavalier, who took her gloves and fan, and was forthwithdespatched in search of a very particular manuscript book somewhere inthe half. 

_En attendant_ she rattled off a sparkling French _chansonnette_ withsuch _élan_ that every man in the room, musical or otherwise, was soonround the piano. Her voice was harsh and wiry; but there was an oddityand originality in her style, while she pronounced the words with avehement clearness, that drove their meaning home to the dullest ear. Mr. Hornby returned with the manuscript book, fastened by a patent lock, and ornamented with an elaborate monogram. 

"I never keep any songs that other people have, so I am obliged to guardmy _spécialités_ under lock and key, "--and she held out her arm toColonel Dashwood to unclasp a bracelet, the medallion of which opened ontouching a spring, and disclosed a gold key. 

Colonel Dashwood retained the wrist while pretending to examine thismiracle, and Kate shot one of her dangerous glances out of half-closedeyes. 

A personal assault upon Dashwood would have been consonant to Harry'sfeelings at the moment. He was not yet quite proof against twinges ofjealousy about cousin Kate, who was now turning over the leaves of herbook with an unconscious air. 

"This song Mr. Forsyth brought me from Mexico. Such crabbed copying, onlyan expert could read it; so I merely scribbled down the words, and madehim sing the air till I had caught it. That Charley Dacre got from aboatman at Venice; and this little Troubadour thing" (sentimentally) "wascomposed by a friend of mine, who has promised never to let any onepossess it but myself. "

"I hope you bought up the whole edition, " put in Harry. 

"And here--even you, you dear, unmusical boy, are represented. Do youremember it, Harry?" (playing a few bars. ) "The air you were alwayswhistling, and said the sailors sang at watch. "

"Yes, that was it, " said he, with brightening eyes. "How could yourecollect?"

"Well, when you went to sea I got somewhat plaintive and dull; used tohum it about the house, and set down the notes. "

"But these are not the right words. "

"Oh, no, " said Kate, casting down her eyes with modest candour; "they aremy own. "

Now Harry at the same moment felt almost certain he had seen the linessomewhere before; and, being rather apt to stick to a point, turned itover in his mind, while his cousin poured forth a flood of song like askylark soaring. Ere she desisted, Dutton had left the room, anddiscovered the words in an old Annual on a top shelf in the library. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE SPRING WOODS. 

 But, Tom, you'll soon find, for I happen to know, That such walks often lead into straying; And the voices of cousins are sometimes so low, Heaven only knows what you'll be saying. And long ere the walk is half over those strings Of your heart are all put into play By the voice of those fair demi-sisterly things, In not quite the most brotherly way. --Hon. Mrs. Norton. 

More snow fell that night, and Lord Bromley's gardeners were sweeping thewalks from an early hour next morning. Robins lingered about with brighteyes, soliciting crumbs, and shaking off showers of snow as they flewfrom yew-hedge to holly-bush. Breakfast was over at "The Towers, " exceptfor a few late individuals; and Harry Dutton, in a pair of long boots, and, I am afraid, a pipe in his mouth, was taking a quarter-deck walk infront of the ball-room windows. He was thinking pretty hard, and thesubject was evidently not pleasing, as it was with a sensation of reliefhe observed a deft figure crossing the ball-room, in a fur-trimmed clothcostume, remarkably well kilted up over a resolute-looking pair of smallboots. She signed to him to open the windows and let her out. Harry madea feint of emptying his pipe, but received gracious permission to "puffaway. "

"That killing get-up can't be for me, " thought he. "I'll give her the tipshe wants. "

"A certain good-looking Colonel of Hussars has gone to play a match atbilliards till luncheon. "

"Why that blunt and abrupt observation, _à propos_ to nothing?"

"You must excuse my sea manners. I should have used more circumlocution, but they don't put much polish on us on board. "

"No, they don't, and you boast of it, hence that phrase. You never hear asoldier apologizing for his 'army manners'!"

"Speaks well for their modesty! Well, Kate, where are you bound for? Youare not rigged up in that way merely to coast about here. "

"I meant to walk round the spring woods. "

"And as Dashwood has sloped perhaps I may sail in consort. The walkswon't be swept, of course, and that dainty scarlet petticoat will looklike an old hunting-coat. "

But a gardener asserting that the men had been at work since daylight, the cousins departed on their ramble. 

A gravel walk a mile round encircled the inner ring of a wood left wild, except where rides were cut, showing vistas into the park beyond. Hereand there it was cleared into a rosary, with a summer-house, a Dutchgarden with a fountain, a glade with a fish-pond, etc. The trees weremagnificent, and many a foreign specimen was represented, while theshimmering tints of grey-green, from their great variety, were of shadesinnumerable. Sometimes the bordering turf became wider, and floweringshrubs grew each side of the walk, --an intoxicating spot in spring, whenthe wild flowers carpeted the woods, and the bird _artistes_, returningfrom starring in other lands, recommenced their "popular concerts. "

Even now, in winter dress, its attractions were but changed. Thelichen-covered kings of the forest revealed their bold limbs undisguisedby foliage, the feathery birch showed its delicate tracery against theclear winter sky, and Dutton sighed as he gazed on that fair demesne, andthought how hard it would be to give it up. 

Kate's thoughts had apparently wandered in the same direction, for shesaid abruptly, --"What a happy fellow you are, Harry, to be heir to allthis!" But she was thinking more of the first-rate style in which it waskept up, and the magnificent, comfortable house, than of its picturesquefeatures. 

"There's many a slip, " said Harry, moodily, between the whiffs of hispipe. "We all know Uncle Bromley, Kate. "

"Do you know, " said she, mysteriously, "I hear he actually keeps hiseyes, so to speak, on that grand-daughter in Canada. The agent who paysthe annuity reports to him. "

"The deuce!--you make me quite hot, Kate. Are you inventing just out ofchaff?"

"No, honour bright. Mamma was talking about it; and seems he heard ratheran unpleasant rumour the other day. "

"Come, that's better. What has the young woman been a-doing of?"

"Run away, or something. I overheard mamma telling old Lady Calvert; butthey nodded and winked and interjected I couldn't clearly make it out. Iwas writing a letter at the davenport, and in the glass opposite observedthem. I don't generally burden my mind much with the conversation of myelders, but something in the alertness of their attitudes and flutter oftheir caps made me contemplatively bite my pen and--attend. A breach ofconfidence on the maternal side, I should surmise, for she declinedsatisfying my laudable curiosity when I pumped her afterwards, and seemedalarmed at my having heard anything. "

"I had no idea, " exclaimed Harry, "that he took the slightest interest inthat girl; and, hang it all, Kate, she _is_ the rightful heir. Perhaps helooks on her as a second string in case I don't carry out all hisarbitrary wishes. "

"Yes, I shouldn't recommend your running counter to him gratuitously. Totell you the truth, I thought you rather a lunatic keeping away so longafter coming on shore, "--and Kate gazed searchingly into Harry's face, who blushed, and then frowned under the scrutiny. 

"Ah!" murmured the fair inquisitor, "then there _was_ something--a womanin the case, of course: there always is. "

"I tell you what, " cried Dutton, recovering himself, "if you beginsupposing improbabilities about me, I'll turn detective on you andDashwood. "

"Sea manners again! and when I was so kind--putting you on your guard. But, never mind, Harry, though I _think_ what I please, I shan't peach_if you don't_. "

"Let us seal the treaty, " passing one arm round her waist. "Give me akiss, Kate--you haven't yet. "

"Anything in reason, which sealing treaties in a vista opposite UncleBromley's study windows is _not_. "

A few paces rectified that objection; but Dutton relapsed into a brownstudy, and Kate fell to thinking of Colonel Dashwood; and so theywandered on till the girl spoke again. 

"What port have you left your heart in, Harry?"

"My dear, I have none. I left it in your charge when I went to sea, andhave never asked for it back again. "

"I expect I shall have to return it now, as I think my uncle has someviews as to its disposal, and may inquire for it. "

"He always has chimeras of that sort. I say, Kate, how perilously plainGeraldine has grown up. "

"You discern the finger of Fate there. She has, indeed. I wonder she isnot ashamed of herself. "

"Speak not thus harshly of a misfortune. "

"It's just as much a fault. Do you think _I'd_ submit to be plain? Never. Give me only one good feature, I'd pose up to it, and make it beautifythe rest. Large goggle eyes like hers might be thrown up with a heavenlyexpression--so--(but I am afraid mine are rather earthly). A bad figureeven could be rectified. She need not indulge much in the poetry ofmotion. _I_ am not pretty, but I dare say you never found it out. No, youhaven't, so you needn't assume that look of regretful dissent; and Irepeat, that any girl so spiritless as to give in to being ugly_deserves_ to be left out in the cold. "

"That, my dear, you can never be. You carry brimstone enough to set everyone in flames about you. But to return to our--sheep. Don't say, Kate, Iam expected to range alongside such a figure-head as that!"

"She will have a very valuable consignment of--timber, however, when shecomes into Forest Hill. "

"Which adjoins 'The Towers!' The Avuncular will be death on it! What anunfortunate idea to take up!"

"Can't you do it?" asked the girl, looking askance. 

"I don't want to offend his Lordship. I'd ride for a _fall_. Any chanceof a refusal, Kate?"

"That wouldn't satisfy him. He thinks a man ought never to be beat; andthat

 'It isn't so much the gallant who woos As the gallant's way of wooing. '

But I do hope, Harry, you won't have to marry Geraldine. Fancy _her_mistress of 'The Towers!'--no go!--no fun! and she would collect thestupidest people in the county. "

"What a brilliant little chatelaine some one else would make!" quothwicked Harry. 

A glance--one of Kate's own--which few men could stand and feel perfectlycool. With all her flirtations, --and at present she was most in love withColonel Dashwood, --she never forgot that if bereaved of their uncle by anopportune fit of the gout, few better matches could fall in her way thancousin Harry; so that a little quiet love-making with him was a usefulinvestment in view of such a contingency; though, of course, she couldnot wait, if this dear uncle, as, indeed, was sadly probable, lived onindefinitely with Harry's future still unassured. 

Dutton blushed a little under Kate's gaze, which affixed a seriousmeaning to his insincere words; but his eyes returned the challenge inhers, though the girl saw in an instant that the expression was notspontaneous, and Harry felt equally sure that the passion latent in hiscousin's was more for "The Towers" than himself; and then he laughedinwardly as he thought how different it would be if she knew he wasmarried. 

Several days passed, and the object of Harry's visit was stillunfulfilled. Indeed, a good opportunity for the disclosure seemed moreremote than ever. Kate monopolized all the men in the house, and, beingat home, Dutton, in common decency, could not suffer Lady Geraldine to beneglected. There were only those two girls staying at "The Towers. "Others sometimes came to dinner with their parents, and an _impromptu_dance was often got up. Geraldine had begun to listen for Harry's step, seat herself near a vacant chair, and thrill with delight when he tookit. No man dislikes such unconscious flattery, and Dutton, ill at ease inmind, felt himself soothed by her kindness. 

On these occasions, Lord Bromley appeared bland and agreeable, LadyCalvert voluble and unobserving, and there was a sense of _bien-être_over every one, Kate, perhaps, excepted. 

Dutton had received one letter from his wife. He had had a five mile-walkto get it from the post town he had bidden her address to, and opened itwith a strange mixture of curiosity and yearning. It was a very brightletter, made no complaints of loneliness, and was rather divertinglywritten, considering the limited topics at her command; and yet Harrycrunched it up in his hand with a sensation of half anger and wholedisappointment. It was their first separation, --they had not been marriedseven weeks, --and there was scarcely an expression of affection in it!

He felt like a schoolboy who has coveted and caught some pretty wildanimal for a pet, yet cannot succeed in making it fond of him. 

He laughed rather bitterly as he retraced his steps. It was scarcelyworth the cold, companionless walk, or the pains he had taken to evadethe rest. 

Why should he risk offending his uncle to please her? If that, indeed, were all, he did not know that he should. But new considerations came in. We were on the eve of drifting into the Crimean War; the papers weregetting more and more threatening; and, in the event of hostilities beingdeclared, he had applied for a ship on active service. 

Could he, then, when he might never return, leave Bluebell with theirmarriage unacknowledged? "Though, " thought he, in his moody reverie, "if_that_ were all right, I don't believe she would care a pin if _I_ wereknocked over by a round shot. "

Some curiosity and a good deal of chaff greeted Dutton on his return;but Kate did not fail to remark how little he entered into, and howquickly turned it off. That cousin Harry had some mystery of his own, theastute damsel was pretty well convinced, though to the rest he appearedlight-hearted and hilarious, and enjoying to the full his enviableposition. 

"What a lucky young fellow that is?" had been remarked at different timesby nearly every guest in the house. And the days slipped by, Harry verymuch "made of" by Lady Calvert, while Lady Geraldine's preference was ofan unobtrusive and reticent nature--impalpable, yet grateful to thesenses as the fragrance of an invisible, leaf-hidden violet. 

And Bluebell, all alone in her retreat, and each day passing withouttidings, began to think she had over-estimated Harry's once troublesomeadoration, and almost to doubt if he would ever return. 

In truth, he was ashamed to write. The longer the confession wasdeferred, the harder it became; and he had now assigned himself a date. On receiving sailing orders to the Baltic, he would tell all, and makeit, perhaps, a last request to his uncle to acknowledge his wife. In themean time why plague himself about it? Things must take their course. 

They were sitting one day in a pretty breakfast-room. Kate rather angrywith her Colonel, who lingered on, always apparently at boiling point, yet never so far bubbling over as to commit himself in words. Harry, too, was looking actually interested in Geraldine, whose large, honest eyeswere beaming with a sort of tender happiness. Lord Bromley was not in theroom. Clearly he must be detached. 

"Doesn't this dear old room remind you of childish days?" cried theartless damsel. "It used always to be summer or Christmas then; and wehad tea here in such beautiful china, so different from the horridschool-room crockery. "

"And sometimes we were so long over it, they couldn't clear away beforethe company passed through to dinner, and we got under the table to watchthem, " said Harry. 

"And we used to put out the little sofas and jump over them, KingCharles's beauties looking down on us from the wall so grand andgracious. And there was always mignonette and nemophila in window-boxes, so sweet in the evening air? And the honey? Oh, Harry, do you rememberthe honey?"

Her reminiscences succeeded in breaking up the _tête-à-tête_, and, lo!the wicked little dominant spirit who pulled the wires had indirectlyinfluenced every one in the room. Harry, mesmerized by eye artillery, haddropped into confidential converse with Kate; Geraldine was suffering a_serrement de coeur_ at being so lightly left; and the Colonel, hisoccupation gone, was reduced to twisting those tried friends inperplexity--his pendulous whiskers and moustache. 

"How silly a hairy man looks drinking tea, " Kate had whispered; "like athirsty rat dipping its whiskers and tail in!"

A rather pleased expression pervaded Harry's countenance, which wasas smooth as a billiard-ball. His cousin soon had him beautifully inhand, and then extorted a promise to do the thing he hated most, _i. E. _, to escort her out hunting the following Friday. She hadn't the smallestintention of remaining with him after they found. Then she wouldride with her Colonel, who acquitted himself more creditably in ahunting-field; but, as she was not allowed to start with him alone, it was necessary to impress Harry into her service. 

"That's all settled, " cried she, rising. "Remember, honour bright! Andnow go and talk to dear Geraldine, who looks as if she were going tocry. " For Kate had heard Lord Bromley's step in the passage. He came inwith Mr. Hobart, who had just returned from London. "Have you heard thenews?" said the latter; "war is declared; the army, Guards and all, areordered to the East, and the fleet is to go to the Baltic. "

How these few words went straight to their mark, contrasting with thefrivolities that had amused them all day! It had come at last. Chances ofdistinction, redemption from stagnation, the much-coveted active service. They were all brave men in that house--soldiers or sailors, most of them;but the "bitter sweet first shock" and rush of new ideas kept them, atfirst, rather pale and silent. 

After dinner though, when the wine had circulated and the firststrangeness worn off, chaff and jest flew lightly about, for a generalexcitement pervaded the whole party. 

"Shall you order those new clothes now Dashwood, you had so many patternsfor this morning?"

"No! they would be out of fashion, perhaps, when we return. I was justgoing to order a new tunic, too! That sinful extravagance may be cutoff. "

Harry, who, perhaps, had most cause for anxious thoughts, was foremostin the fun. If his spirits were forced, that was his own affair; and, toavoid Kate's over-keen eyes, he (the last thing he ought to have done)devoted himself the whole evening to the more restful society ofGeraldine. 

Pre-occupied as he was, he began to be sensible of a change in hermanner--she seemed struggling with some indefinable agitation; her voiceshook, and sounded strange when she spoke. 

And when he laughingly hoped "he should be covered with medals nexttime they met, " uncoquettish Lady Geraldine looked a moment in his facewith a glance he could not misunderstand, while a large, unavoidabletear fell on her hand. To capture and press it tenderly was but obeyinga remorseful impulse. Geraldine immediately became composed, and hersensitive face brightened. The embarrassment that had left her seemed tohave passed into Harry, who felt the greatest relief when a flutter ofskirts and general rising betokened that the ladies were about to retire. 

But the little incident had forced resolution on Dutton's vacillatingmind. "That settles it, " he soliloquised. "She is far too nice to bedeceived. I know Kate won't let me off to-morrow, but I will have it outwith my uncle directly I come back, and go to London by the 8. 30. "

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

LORD BROMLEY INTERVIEWS DUTTON. 

 Ere long a challenge and a cheer Came floating down the wind; 'Twas Mermaid's note, and the huntsman's voice We knew it was a find. The dull air woke us from a trance As sixty hounds joined chorus, And away we went, with a stout dog fox Not a furlong's length before us. --Lawrence. 

Nearly every one was going by a late train the following day, intendingto hunt in the morning; for it was a favourite meet in some of the bestcountry of ----shire. Kate was the only fair equestrian, and Harry was toescort her. 

There was one old hunter in the stables who loyally carried the young manwithout taking advantage of his maladroitness. Kate always insisted, whenhe accompanied her, on his being committed--I may say to the _care_ ofthis faithful equine, who knew its business far better than its rider, and, if it did not lead him to glory, at least avoided disgrace. 

Whatever she might have felt about the approaching departure of ColonelDashwood certainly did not appear, for Kate was in glorious spirits, --herpretty figure, always well on horseback, set off still more by theelastic action of her beautiful dark chestnut. 

Where is the thorough-bred without "opinions?"--and when of thatexcitable colour, you may generally reckon on a handful! "Childe Harold"was vexed at galloping on a different strip of turf to his companions, and delivered himself of seven buck-jumps successively. Kate, quite ather ease, was repressing his efforts to get his head down, with the samesmile on her face that some absurdity of Harry's had provoked; but justas she began to tire a bit, and fancy her hat was loosening, "ChildeHarold, " who might then, perhaps, have had one conquering buck, assuddenly gave it up, in the fatuous way a horse will, when he is nearestsuccess, if he only knew it. 

"Two or three of those would have settled me, " said Harry, good-humouredly coming to her side. "What an ass a fellow lookswho can't ride!"

"Well, I will say for you you don't funk, " said Kate consolingly; "and Isuppose all sailors ride like monkeys. --There are the hounds going on; weare only just in time. "

Coquettish Kate was soon surrounded. If she rode fair and didn'tcross men at their fences, still less did she want assistance at anypracticable leap. "Childe Harold, " too, was indifferent to a lead; so, beholden to none, she rode her own line, and, with her merry smileand gay tongue, with the whole field, from the gallant master to thehard-riding farmer, there were few greater favourites than Harry's cousinKate. 

The universal theme at the cover-side was, of course, the declaration ofwar; but even that absorbing subject sunk to silence as the first lowwhimper, taken up more confidently by hound after hound, proclaimed thatpoor Reynard was being bustled through the underwood. 

A relieved smile played over the features of the owner of the cover, and"Always a fox in Beechwood" came approvingly from the master's lips as hecrashed out of the spinny. Kate's gauntleted hand was held up warningly, for the "Childe" was apt to let out one hind leg in excitement. Thenthere was a screech from an urchin in a tree, and they were away with astraight running fox pointing to Redbank Bushes, eight miles off as thecrow flies. 

Not much of the run was Harry Dutton destined to see that day; hispresumed mission was to stick on and follow Kate, who thought no moreabout him once they were away. He had flopped over the first fencewithout a mistake; but coming on a bit of road the old horse faltered, afew yards more he was dead lame. Harry jumped off, and found a shoe gone. Dashwood had a spare one he remembered, and there was a blacksmith, nothalf a mile distant. He looked round--no sign of him of course; he wassailing away with a good start, fields ahead, in that contented ecstasythat stops not for friend or foe. There was nothing for it but to plod onto the forge, trusting to nick in later in the day. As the shoe had to bemade, delay was inevitable. Dutton lit a cigar to while away the term ofdurance, and was disconsolately looking out at the door of the smithy, when he observed one of the Bromley grooms trotting smartly down theroad. 

He hailed the man, who touched his hat with alacrity. "I was riding tofind you, sir; his Lordship has sent your letters. "

The train was late, and the post had not arrived before they had beenobliged to start that morning. He tore open a large blue officialenvelope, "On Her Majesty's Service, " and read his appointment to H. M. S. "Druid, " one of the Baltic fleet. 

Harry stood intent a minute, with compressed lips, then signed to thegroom to give him his horse. 

"I have got letters for Colonel Dashwood and Mr. Hobart, too, sir. "

"Well, 'Figaro' will be shod in five minutes. But you won't catch themthis side of the Bushes; they were going straight for them half an hourago. "

And he galloped away with his loose sailor seat in the direction of "TheTowers. " The hour had come. That letter was the self-imposed signal forthe acknowledgment of his marriage, and, perhaps, extinction of all hopeof inheritance. One watchful figure at the library window perceived hisred coat winding through the trees on his way to the stables. LadyGeraldine had caught sight of the blue envelope, and, with the prescienceof love, had divined the whole. She had not wandered far from the windowthat morning, being too restless and miserable for anything else. Now, asshe perceived him, her heart stood still. He must be going that very day. 

"Well, she would see him once more, at any rate. Adieux must be spoken, and, after last night, surely something more, something to dwell onwhen they were apart. " The carriage was rolling up to the door for thedaily drive. Lady Calvert and Kate's mother came down well muffled up. "Geraldine, my dear, are you not ready! Oh, you had much better come, or you will be left alone in the house. "

Geraldine, hitherto all transparent candour, shook her head dissentingly. "Oh, no, thank you; much too cold. I am going for a walk presently. "

She forbore to inflame the maternal curiosity by mentioning Dutton'sreturn, and the elder ladies drove off on a shopping expedition to themarket town. 

Harry, in the meanwhile, had entered the dining-room, and, eliciting froma footman that his uncle was in, poured out something from a decanter onthe side table, and, without waiting to refresh himself further, wentdown the passage leading to Lord Bromley's sanctum. 

"'The lion in his den, the Douglas in his hall, '" muttered he to himself. "I shall be a man or a mouse when I come out. "

We need not go through the whole interview of the uncle and nephew. Thelatter's appointment was, of course, the first subject of discussion; andnever had Harry known Lord Bromley show more cordiality and warmth ofmanner. He himself was becoming confused and tongue-tied with theimportance of the confession at hand. 

"I think of going to London this afternoon, " said Dutton, still fencing. "There's a few things to arrange, as I am to join on Monday. "

Lord Bromley coughed, poked the fire, and then observed, --"That brings meto a subject that I wish to explain to you. I have brought you up in theexpectation of succeeding me at 'The Towers, ' and, naturally, I expectyou to make a suitable marriage, --as well you may with such prospectsbefore you. I have noticed with great pleasure that your inclinationsseem to have forestalled my wishes. The young lady, too, does not appearaverse. But before you go, if you would like to explain yourself toher--in short, bring it to an engagement, you would have my most cordialapprobation--in fact, I think it's the best thing you could do. "

Harry grew a shade paler as the opportunity he wanted appeared. 

"I am very sorry, sir, " said he, shortly, "but I can never marry LadyGeraldine. "

"Why, the devil not?"

"Because, " faltered he, "I have a prior attachment. Indeed, am bound--"

"Prior attachment! d--d stuff!" cried the angry peer. "Whom have youseen, I should like to know, except some garrison hack at the ports youhave stopped at! By ----, it is not Kate, I hope?"

Dutton shook his head. He would have been amused at any other moment. 

"No, much worse, no doubt. Listen, Harry. It is bad enough your havingmade a fool of that very nice girl; but, if ever you wish to be master ofthis house, the sooner you get rid of all disgraceful entanglements, thebetter. "

Dutton's good angel battled hard with the tempter, but the latter heldhim silent. 

Lord Bromley spoke again, but his voice, though stern, was broken. 

"I disinherited my only son for a marriage that displeased me, by whichyou have benefited. He died unreconciled to me. You may judge whatquarter _you_ would get in a similar offence!"

The old peer's face had turned to granite. A variety of expressionsshifted across Harry's while his uncle continued, --"Yes, you had bettergo to town, as you have raised expectations here you seem to have nointention of fulfilling--_at present_, " and he rose from his chair andheld out his hand to his nephew. "Good-bye, Harry. You have somethingelse to think of now; and when you return I hope you will have moresense. "

It was not manly--it was not heroic--but with the wisdom of the childrenof this world, Dutton passed from his uncle's presence with his secretstill unrevealed. 

The watcher at the library window saw another carriage drive round. Thistime it was a double dog-cart, and two or three leather portmanteaus werebeing disposed on it at a side door. 

Already! Geraldine grew nervous. He might come in at any moment, orperhaps would not know any of the ladies had remained at home. 

"Still, he could _ask_, " whispered her heart. She had not long to remainin suspense. Harry came out, jumped into the dog-cart, and gathered upthe reins; then he looked up and saw Geraldine's stricken face. Heblushed hotly as he took off his hat, and shot one sorrowful glance fromhis eyes ere he drove off, at headlong speed, to the station. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

HARRY GOES TO THE BALTIC. 

 Is this my lord of Leicester's love, That he so oft have swore to me? To leave me in this lonely grove? Immured in shameful privity? --Unknown. 

Bluebell, a lonely little recluse at the cottage, seemed to have passeda lifetime there, so long were the uneventful days. She was not exactlyunhappy, being too young and healthy to be a prey to low spirits. Still, her life could hardly be called satisfactory. In the first days of theirmarriage she would exclaim in her heart. "Oh, to be sometimes alone;"then, with the suddenness of a transformation-scence, her wish had beenbut too abundantly accomplished. 

It was weeks since she had heard from Dutton, whose first letter hadnever been repeated, and she begun to believe that the headlong passionthat had led him to force her, almost against her will, into marriagewith him was as short-lived as it had been quickly kindled. 

She remembered Bertie Du Meresq, who had appeared quite as desperate atfirst, and then had quietly transferred his affections to Cecil. Like thePsalmist, she could have "said in her heart, all men are liars. "

Harry near--adoring--_exigeant_, could be an evil; but Harry away, engaged every thought; and if thinking of a person is the first stepto love, he ought to have been satisfied with the way Bluebell wasemploying herself. 

One evening she was sitting in her bed-room with the window open. Therewas a light breath of spring in the air though the nights were frosty. Itwas near midnight, and starlight, which has ever attractions for theyoung; later on, a warm fireside and creature comforts are morecongenial. Archie, the dog, with his nose on his paws, bore her company;presently he gave a low growl, and pricked his ears--a moment after, Bluebell fancied she could hear the sound of wheels on the frosty ground. It became clearer and clearer; presently she could distinguish the redlights of a fly, and then she knew that Harry was come. 

That his mission had been unsuccessful, she read at once in avoidanceof her questioning eyes, yet, strange to say, it seemed of secondaryimportance. Dutton himself, for the first time, was of all-absorbinginterest to Bluebell. His presence seemed to break the lethargic spellthat had bound her, while no small detail of appearance and dress escapedher, even that his hair was parted differently. Dutton, who had dreadedthe first meeting, was relieved by Bluebell's manner, and saw at oncethey were more _en rapport_. He was only too willing to procrastinatebad tidings, so it was not till the next day that she realized the wholefatal truth. Harry was going to the war with their marriage stillunacknowledged. 

He related, truthfully enough, his conversation with Lord Bromley. Eventhen, in her deep interest as to its result, Bluebell vaguely noticed thecurious coincidence of his uncle also having disinherited a son, but, having a more dominant idea in her mind, that was left in a vacantcorner, to crop up at some future time. 

Dutton was vexed that she could not see he had no other alternativebut silence. 

"It would have been simply giving away 'The Towers' to have blurted itall out then. "

To Bluebell's unsophisticated mind, honesty seemed more importunate thanexpediency. 

"Then, if you do get 'The Towers' now, it will be on false pretences. "

Harry reddened. He had all along been goaded by a vague sense ofdishonour. "It's useless crying over spilt milk, " exclaimed he, impatiently. "Now would have been the very worst time--just as hewants me to marry some one else. But when I come back--"

"Then he may be dead. "

"By Jove! I think he has quite as good a chance of surviving me--not ashade of odds either way. Look here, Bluebell, I will write a lettercontaining a full confession, enclose our marriage certificate, and sealit with this ring he gave me. If anything happens, send it to him, and Ibelieve he will take care of you, but not while I am alive. "

"Send it to him at once, Harry. "

"You used not to be so indifferent to poverty, Bluebell. You told me, inthe steamer, that you had a longing for luxury and riches. "

"Luxury and riches, " echoed Bluebell, "seem as improbable as ever. Ishould like to be able to look my friends in the face. "

But it was all in vain. Dutton, though remorseful, was obdurate; therewas much to arrange, and he had only twenty-four hours to remain. LordBromley had omitted the accustomed parting cheque, which Harry hadreckoned on, and money was scarce with the two young people. 

"Will you go back to Canada, Bluebell, till the war is over, and I willsend you all the money I can?"

"What, as Miss Leigh?"

And he could say no more. The same difficulty prevented her writing tothe Rollestons, or any one else. Long and anxiously they talked overtheir dilemma; Dutton had only money enough to pay his bill at thecottage, and Bluebell was resolute to earn something for herself. 

She answered an advertisement in the _Times_ he had brought with him, naming, as reference, the mother of Evelyn Leighton. To her she alsowrote, begging that any applicant might have the recommendation she hadreceived of her from Mrs. Rolleston. 

Dutton had gone, but expected to be able to return for a day or twobefore the fleet sailed, and Bluebell was left alone with herthoughts--too full of horrors for solitude to be endurable. Each nightshe dreamed of Harry, dying, and mangled by shot or shell, only to renewthe vision in her waking hours; and, as she pictured such a terminationto their brief married life, a vague tenderness took the place of herformer apathy. The very weakness he had shown in concealing theirmarriage made him more a reality to her by giving her an insight into hisnature--not an endearing trait, perhaps; yet sometimes the failing thatone tries to counteract in the very effort it arouses awakens aninterest. 

Bluebell felt thankful that her hours at the cottage were numbered, forlately she had begun to fancy people looked askance at her, and thecarpenter's wife had developed an inquisitiveness akin to impertinence. 

Mrs. Leighton sent a very kind answer, assuring her of the recommendationas she had received it from Mrs. Rolleston. It was addressed to "MissLeigh, " and a crimson flush rose to her temples at the unpleasant smilewith which the postmistress handed it across the counter. Harry, when hewrote, having posted it himself, ventured to address his letter to "Mrs. Dutton"; the only other she had received was from her mother, directed, as requested, to B. D. This letter had been rather distressing--filledwith vague fears, inspired, she was sure, by Miss Opie, and conjuringher, with promises of inviolable secrecy, to reveal her name. 

The lady whose advertisement she had answered, apparently attracted byher musical professions, replied immediately, and, the reference to Mrs. Leighton being satisfactory, she was shortly engaged at a fair salary. 

Then Bluebell, writing the account to Canada, could not refrain fromslipping in a private scrap to her mother, on which, in the strictestconfidence, she acknowledged her wedded name. This circumstance, however, she did not mention to Harry when he returned on two days' leave, knowinghe would be sceptical as to Mrs. Leigh's power of secrecy. 

Of course he was relieved that she had an asylum provided, and equally, of course, raged inwardly at his wife's having to support herself in hermaiden name. He was the more remorseful as Bluebell made no furtherallusion to it, and seemed more occupied with making the most of his lastdays. 

But he only called himself a confounded rascal, and trusted things wouldcome right in the end. 

Bluebell was to remain one more night at the cottage after herhusband left. Her wardrobe, though slender, was new, as it consistedof what Harry had bought at Liverpool. None of it was marked, as sheremembered with satisfaction; so there was nothing to betray her but herwedding-ring. She removed and suspended it round her neck on a piece ofribbon. The miniature of Theodore Leigh, which had not been forgotten theday she eloped, was also carefully secreted in a trunk. 

The bill was paid, the fly at the door. One tender parting only remained;this was with Archie, who had sprung into it after her, for he andBluebell had become inseparable. They could scarcely drag him away, andshe buried her face a minute in his rough coat with almost equal regret. 

"Would you like to keep him, ma'am?" said the carpenter's wife. 

"I cannot now, but when Mr. Dutton comes back, and we are settled, willyou let me have him?"

"Ah, well, " said the woman, half disappointed, for she did not care forArchie, "ye'll have forgotten all about it by then. "

CHAPTER XXXV. 

A DISCOVERY. 

 There woman's voice flows forth in song, Or childhood's tale is told; Or lips move tunefully along Some glorious page of old. --Hemans. 

Bluebell was settled in her new abode, about fifteen miles from London:and certainly few governesses have the luck to drop into a more sunshinyhome. Only two little girls, pleasantly disposed; no banishment to theschool-room. They all mingled sociably together after lessons wereover, --walked, drove in an Irish car, or played croquet and gardenedas the spring advanced. 

Mr. Markham was a barrister in London, and came down to dinner mostdays--not always, though; and his wife, still a young woman, was gladenough to find a companion in Bluebell. Beauty, too, unless it excitesjealousy, is agreeable to look at, and she soon became interested in theyoung Canadian. But after a while she was puzzled by her. There was afar-off, touching look in her eyes that had come there since marriage, and she was reserved about herself, though the stiffness of firstacquaintance had long ago given way to affectionate intimacy. For a girlapparently so frank to be at the same time so guarded suggested somethingto be concealed. Mrs. Markham, being a woman, could not refrain fromspeculating about it. She had elicited many lively descriptions ofBluebell's life in Canada, and the children were never weary of sleighingand toboggining stories. But these were general subjects; her narrativeswere never personal ones. 

"By-the-bye, " observed Mrs. Markham, one day, "how strange it was thatpoor child, Evelyn Leighton, dying just as you were going there! Hermother told me of it when she enclosed Mrs. Rolleston's letter. But youarrived in October, I think. Where were you those few months?"

"I was staying with a friend, " replied Bluebell; but her hand shook andshe became crimson. 

Mrs. Markham did not fail to note this, and suspected that duringthat friendly visit some love passages might have arisen. "She seemsvery sensitive about it, " thought the kind lady. "I will get her totell me some day. It is such a shame ignoring that sort of thing withgovernesses, just as if it were a crime! And if there is really anything, he might come and see her here sometimes. "

But Bluebell remained nervous and out of spirits the rest of that day. 

One morning they were sitting together in the pleasant drawing-room; thechildren had a holiday, and were playing with their dogs out of doors;Mrs. Markham was colouring a design for her flower-beds, and lamentingthe non-arrival of some seeds the postman was to have brought. "The yearis getting on, " murmured the aggrieved lady; "they really ought to besown, and it is such a lovely day for gardening. "

"Let me go to Barton and fetch them, " cried Bluebell, who was alwaysready for a walk. "I shall be there and back before luncheon. "

"Would you really?" said Mrs. Markham. "But it looks so hot! Are you sureyou don't mind?" And declaring it was the thing of all others she shouldenjoy, Bluebell set off. 

It was one of those glorious, sultry days that sometimes occur early inthe year, when summer seems actually to have arrived for the season--adelusion invariably dispelled by the biting blasts of the blackthornwinter. Lovely as it appeared it was a very oppressive day for a longwalk; the white, glaring road seemed endless, and she half repented heroffer. 

Bluebell was scarcely so strong as she had been, and, having to hurry agood deal to be back in time for luncheon, was quite pale and exhaustedon re-entering the drawing-room, prize in hand. 

The second post was on the table, and the girl stopped short in themidst of a message from the seedsman, for a deep black-edged envelope, addressed to herself, caught her eye. Mrs. Markham observed her withfurtive anxiety. It is terrible to watch the opening of a letterevidently containing sad tidings, yet she was hardly prepared to seeBluebell, after perusing it drop prone on the ground as though she wereshot, her forehead striking against the table in the fall. Ringing thebell, Mrs. Markham flew to her assistance, and, unfastening the collar ofher dress, something was disclosed to view which gave that lady a secondsensational shock, more thrilling than the first. Hurriedly she closedthe dress again, despatching for water a sympathetic servant who had justentered, then swiftly, dexterously, possessed herself of a ribbonencircling the girl's throat, on which hung a wedding-ring. 

Bluebell recovered only to fall from one fainting fit into another. Herstrength had been exhausted by the walk, and she had none to bear upagainst the shock that awaited her. The letter was from Miss Opie, announcing Mrs. Leigh's sudden death, after a few hours' illness. Inside, and unopened, was returned Bluebell's private enclosure revealing hermarried name. 

A year ago this child had been innocent of the existence of nerves, but, from the trying scenes she had lately gone through, they were now soshattered that she was unable to rally. The doctor kept her in bed atfirst, recommended absolute quiet, and exhausted his formula with asbeneficial a result as could be expected considering it attacked thesecondary cause only, and was impotent to heal the suffering mindreacting upon the body. Bluebell continued in a torpid condition, scarcely giving any signs of life. One day, Mrs. Markham, who nursed herwith unremitting zeal, quickened, perhaps, by the interest of herdiscovery, observed the patient's hand steal to her neck, and then sheglanced uneasily about, as if seeking for something. 

They were alone, so Mrs. Markham whispered in a low, cautious tone, "Ihave it quite safe, locked up in my desk. No one knows of it but myself. "An apprehensive look dilated the large, sad eyes, succeeded by anexpression of contented resignation. She did not perceptibly improve, hermind was incessantly trying to realize what had happened, and was hauntedby a morbid conviction that the anxiety induced by her own strangemarriage might have precipitated the sad event, for Miss Opie's letterdid not soften the fact that Mrs. Leigh had fretted greatly about it. Still she expressly said that she had succumbed to an epidemic that hadalready gleaned many victims. 

It was, after all, many days before Mrs. Markham remembered the seeds shehad been so anxious to obtain, but one favourable afternoon, she setdiligently to work to lay the foundation for summer flowers. Though the"even tenour" of her life did not afford much scope for its indulgence, this lady was not devoid of a certain spice of romance. She was also ofan independent character, and in the habit of judging for herself on mostmatters, and had decided not to betray Bluebell's secret to her spouse. 

"Men are prejudiced and unpracticable on some points, " she soliloquized, "and though I am quite satisfied that the poor girl is married, he maychoose to doubt it, or think we had better get out of her. Her illnesswas entirely occasioned by the shock, so there really is no necessity toexplain my little accidental discovery. "

But the plot was thickening, for that morning there arrived a letter fromMrs. Leighton written in great perturbation, to the effect that she hadheard some very uncomfortable reports about Miss Leigh. Her informationwas derived from the captain's wife at Liverpool, to whom she had writtenon Bluebell's obtaining a situation, supposing that, as they had shownher so much kindness, they would feel interested in the fact. But she hadreceived in return a most extraordinary letter from Mrs. Davidson, stating that Miss Leigh had eloped from their house, leaving only aletter containing an improbable story about going to be married, withouteven mentioning to whom. Her husband, to be sure, had his suspicions asto the lover, but the name had escaped her memory, and Captain Davidsonwas at sea. 

Now Mrs. Markham began to feel her innocent complicity becoming a littleembarrassing. It was rather awkward keeping a suspected person about thechildren. Her husband would be in fits if he knew it, but, howeverimprudent of Bluebell to elope, she still saw no reason to doubt themarriage. Had she not the wedding-ring in proof of it?

So as she worked and planted, unavoidably decimating a worm here andturning up an ants nest there, she conned it all over. 

"The child must really tell me her secrets, or I can do nothing. I willget her out for a drive; sitting alone in one room, as that demented oldChivers prescribes, is the worst thing for a nervous complaint. "

So the next fine morning she ordered the car, and, going to thegoverness's room, asked her, in a matter-of-course manner, to put onher hat and come out. 

Bluebell had just received a visit from the local practitioner, who hadreiterated his assurances that "we wanted tone, and had better adhere tothe iron mixture; that we must not exert ourselves, and must be sure tolie down a great deal, " etc. ; but she assented to Mrs. Markham's proposalwith the same indifference with which she had listened to Esculapius. 

They drove on for some distance through a straggling village, with itsivied church guarded by sentinel cypresses, children were playing aboutwith hands full of cowslips, and lilac bushes blossomed within cottagepalings. A little beyond they turned into Sir Thomas Farquhar's park, where young rooks were cawing, unwitting of their predestined pastriedtomb. On entering a long, shady avenue, Mrs. Markham pulled the horse upto a walk, and said quietly, --"When were you married, Miss Leigh?"

Perhaps this question had not been unexpected since the little episode ofthe ring, for, with equal calmness, Bluebell replied, --"The last week inNovember, at Liverpool. "

Mrs. Markham felt a triumphant thrill. She would now hear the solutionof the mystery that had been exercising her imaginative powers for someweeks. She poured forth question after question. Yet, at the end ofhalf-an-hour, not only had she failed to extort Dutton's name, but hadeven entangled herself in a promise of inviolable silence as to the onlyadmitted fact. 

She had insisted, threatened, got angry; Bluebell sorrowfully offered togo, but remained firm. 

"Well, keep your secret, then, " cried Mrs. Markham, at last, abandoningthe contest; "but I shall find it out if I can. And I must take care thatWalter doesn't, " thought she, with a mischievous chuckle, for thatgentleman, many years older than his wife, was a servile worshipper ofMrs. Grundy, and his hair would have stood on end had he known that hewas harbouring a young lady with such suspicious antecedents. Besides herpersonal liking for Bluebell, Mrs. Markham recollected that if dismissedat this juncture she could scarcely recommend her to any other situation, and then what would become of the poor thing? But what puzzled her mostwas the total disappearance of the husband to whom she had been so verylately married. 

A clue to this, however, she believed herself to have obtained onobserving that Bluebell never failed to study the daily papers withan avidity unusual at her age. 

"He must be in the army and gone to the Crimea, " thought she. "Poorthing! how dreadful! Some day she will see him in the list of killed andwounded. "

Some little time after, Bluebell, who had in a great measure recoveredher strength, came to her room, and said, with frank, open eyes, --"May Igo to Barton and post a letter to my husband?"

A very warm assent drew forth the heartfelt exclamation, --"How I wish Icould tell you all, my dear Mrs. Markham. "

Without that information, it was not so easy to answer Mrs. Leighton'sletter, which she did eventually in very guarded terms, stating that shehad proof of the marriage having taken place, but could say no more, except that, "being much pleased with Miss Leigh, she intended to keepher, especially as the children were very much under her own eye, andseldom alone with their governess. "

Mr. Markham was generally the first down, and was rather addicted to acurious inspection of the post-mark on the family correspondence, neatlyplaced by each recipient's plate. 

His wife one morning found him standing over a large ship letter directedto the governess, with somewhat the expression of distrustful pugnacitywith which a dog walks round a hedgehog. 

"Is that for Miss Leigh?" said she, carelessly. 

"Yes, " with much solemnity. "Apparently she has a correspondent in theNavy. It is not a sort of thing I like, and I must say I have oftenthought Miss Leigh too young and flighty for me. "

"Oh, I believe she is engaged, poor girl!" said Mrs. Markham, slippingout a white one. "And she gets the children on beautifully. You thoughtEmma already so improved in playing. "

"Well if you know all about it, that's another thing. I trust she doesn'tput nonsense in the children's heads. Emma is getting very forward andinquisitive. "

His wife felt secretly excited, for she was sure this letter must be fromthe errant husband, especially as the governess would not read it inpublic, but pocketed it with a slight nervousness of manner. 

Time passed on, and Mrs. Markham had discovered nothing. 

Bluebell, in her diligent revision of the papers, found much of personalinterest. Colonel Rolleston's regiment had been ordered home to proceedto the Crimea, and she well knew the anxiety his family must be enduring. 

It seemed cold and ungrateful to be unable to write one word of sympathyto Mrs. Rolleston, but any renewal of intercourse must lead toexplanations, and it was her cruel fate to be able to give none. Oneother name, too, she saw in the public print that ought no longer to havehad the power to thrill her as it did. Well, it was not so long ago, after all: but, however mentally disquieted we leave our heroine, as shehas now drifted, outwardly, into a peaceful haven, we must return toothers in the narrative who have more to do. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

IN DEATH THEY WERE NOT DIVIDED. 

 My love he stood at my right hand, His eyes were grave and sweet; Methought he said, "In this far land, Oh, is it thus we meet! Ah, maid most dear, I am not here, I have no place--no part No dwelling more by sea or shore, But only in thine heart!" --Jean Ingelow. 

Bertie Du Meresq, after lingering a while in London, without any tidingsof Cecil, began to weary of inaction, and turn his thoughts again toAustralia. But just then warlike rumours were becoming rife, and forcedhis mind into another channel. Good heavens! with such a prospect, possibility even, how could he let his papers be sent in? There was justtime to recall them. He rushed to the Horse Guards, despatched a letterto his Colonel, and his retirement, not having yet been gazetted, wascancelled. 

But how appease the injured Green, who had advanced the over regulationmoney for the troop? That must be returned, however expensive it might beto raise the necessary sum. One possible resource remained. He possesseda maiden aunt--of means, whose patience and purse he had completelyexhausted some years ago; added to which she had become "serious, " anda gentleman of the Stiggens order now diverted her spare cash into thecoffers of little Bethlehem. 

Du Meresq was aware that he had been predestined to doom by the Rev. Mr. Jackson, and that his aunt had been assured she could not touch pitchwithout being defiled. "Nevertheless, " he thought, "I must try and carryher by a _coup de main_, if I have to pitch her clerical friend out ofthe window first. "

Lady Susan had abandoned the more fashionable precincts of London to benearer her chapel and districts, and the Hansom cabman who drove Bertieto Hammersmith had quartered nearly every yard of it before theircombined intelligence hit off a square stone house on a bit of a common. 

Lady Susan was within, and Du Meresq followed the depressed-lookingfootman upstairs with as much ease as if he had not been particularlyforbidden the house five years ago. He embraced his aunt affectionatelybefore she had collected herself sufficiently to prevent him, and bowedwith the utmost grace to a rather vulgar-looking, self-sufficient lady towhom he was presented. This person, however, he contrived to sit out inspite of her curiosity. 

"And now, Bertie, " said Lady Susan, austerely, "what is it you want? Iknow from past experience it is not I alone you come to see. I warn youthough your hopes are vain. I have, happily, now a more edifying way ofspending my poor income than in aiding you in your godless courses. "

"I have come to you, my dear aunt, as the kindest-hearted person I know. I am in an awful hole. But let me explain. " And then he told how he hadsold his troop to pay his debts, but had now, war being eminent, recalledhis papers, and so owed all the over regulation money obtained inadvance. 

For once Du Meresq had a good case. Against her principles almost, LadySusan listened, and, though pre-determined not to believe a thing hesaid, his words were making an impression. 

"Of course I can get the money; but, going on active service, I shouldhave to pay enormously for it. And, anyhow, " he continued, "I thought Ishould like to say good-bye to you, whether you can let me have it ornot. "

Bertie's Irish blarney always peeped out in his dealings with women, and Lady Susan of late had been so unaccustomed to anything of the sort, that her heart began to warm to her scape-grace nephew. He was sodistinguished-looking, too, with the beauty which comes of air andexpression, and a certain winning manner, none of which were conspicuousattributes of the disciples of little Bethlehem. She made him stay todinner, and Du Meresq, who thought things were looking up, gladlydismissed his Hansom, which had been imparting an unwonted appearance ofdissipation to the locality for the last hour. He could make himselfquite as agreeable to an old lady as a young one, and this one was asoldier's daughter, and Irish into the bargain. What wonder that herheart beat responsively and her blood fired at the idea of another of herrace lending his life to his country! Bertie, to be sure, would havepreferred not having to make capital of that, and objected strongly tobeing treated as a hero in advance. However, it was no use quarrellingwith the means that had brought his aunt into so promising a frame ofmind; and, before he left that evening, he had actually received thepromise of a cheque to the amount of Mr. Green's claims in a few days. 

Soon after this, he heard the welcome news that his regiment was orderedhome immediately, evidently in consequence of the disturbances in theEast. This caused Du Meresq great delight. His corps was, then, certainto be in it, and he would go into action with Lascelles and all his oldfriends, instead of exchanging into a strange regiment, as he haddetermined to do if his own were not for service. 

With all this other thoughts were associated. Somehow he had never lookedupon his rupture with Cecil Rolleston as final, having pretty wellfathomed the _motif_ of her renunciation of him, which he consideredwould bear explanation when occasion offered; but now, rather sadlyreviewing the past, he said to himself that, after all, it was well forher they had not married. 

I do not know that Cecil would have been of the same opinion. She had abrave spirit, that could bear up against known evils, but fretted andsuffered in suspense. She was much altered since her illness. Once themost attentive and docile of daughters, she became irritable anduncertain in temper-_difficile_, as the French call it, or, according toa Scotch expression, "There was no doing with her" some days; and Mrs. Rolleston, unhappy about both Cecil and Bertie, looked upon her husband'sprejudice against the latter as the cause of all this unsatisfactorystate of things. 

As to Colonel Rolleston, he was in the condition of a man whose "foes arethose of his own household. " No one appreciated more the "pillow of awoman's mind"; but really now the pillow might have been stuffed withstones, so many corners and angularities had developed themselves in hisfeminalities. 

The regiment had been ordered to Quebec almost immediately after Bluebellhad gone to England; and, as Mrs. Rolleston there heard of EvelynLeighton's death, the fate of their _protegée_ became naturally a subjectof anxious speculation. Yet not a line had been received from her; and, after a time, the subject was avoided, for all felt that Bluebell hadbeen ungrateful. 

Then Mrs. Leighton wrote out the strange story of her elopement, andhaving since entered a family as governess in her maiden name. Mrs. Rolleston was painfully shocked; for, coupling it with the girl'ssilence, she could not but imagine the worst, especially when, as theygazed at each other in mute dismay, she read in Cecil's face a suspicionthat Bertie had had some hand in her disappearance, he had not writteneither; but, unless he were in correspondence with Bluebell, could nothave been aware that she was in England. Of course, therefore, it wasonly the wildest conjecture. Yet how could Cecil believe that a girl whohad once cared for Bertie should so utterly have forgotten him as tosacrifice herself to any one else within a few weeks? But a letter fromDu Meresq himself did much to banish these gathering doubts andsuspicions. It appeared quite open and above-board, and was written toMrs. Rolleston on the eve of embarking with his regiment for the Crimea. He mentioned one or two houses he had been staying in, related thesuccessful visit to his aunt and wound up in a postcript with thewords, --"Give my dearest love to Cecil, if she cares to have it. "

Mrs. Rolleston silently put the letter into her hand, and left the room. But the privacy of four walls was insufficient for Cecil while permittingherself the dear fascination of perusing Bertie's handwriting. She wasmissing for the next two hours, which Lela was able to account for, having observed her going downstairs dressed for walking. 

She did not remember to return Du Meresq's letter, nor did Mrs. Rollestonask for it. Very soon afterwards they also went to England, though theColonel's regiment was not sent to the Crimea for some months later. Itwas quartered near London, and he took a house for his family inKensington. And now a strange fancy possessed Cecil. It happened one day, when they were out driving, that a little boy drifting across the streetwith the suicidal _insouciance_ of his kind, got knocked down by theirhorses, and, of course, had to be driven straight to the hospital to havehis injuries investigated. It was necessary to detain the child, andCecil walked down most days to bring him toys and inquire into hisprogress. There she became acquainted with some members of a sisterhood, who were employed in nursing in the accident ward, and, after the boyhad been dismissed, convalescent, and ready to be run over again, shestill continued her visits. 

What the attraction was, neither of her parents could conceive, for, although the sisterhood was of the High Church order, they observed noparticular religious enthusiasm or ritualistic tendencies in theirdaughter. "Cecil's mystery" it was called in the family, for she neverspoke of what she had been doing all day, though it was apparentlysatisfactory, as her spirits were far more even than they had been oflate. It was generally supposed that a charitable fervour had seized her, and that she was visiting among the poor; indeed Mrs. Rolleston hadlittle curiosity to spare at present. She was living in dread and dailyexpectation of Colonel Rolleston being sent to the East; and he wasengaged, as a calm, brave man might, in arranging his affairs to providefor his family in any event. 

The order came at last; it was almost a relief from the continualsuspense, and there were a few days for preparation. On one of these lastevenings some of the officers were dining at the Colonel's, and amongthem--which was unusual now--Fane, who, though believing that Cecil'slove affair with Du Meresq must have been broken off, still honourablyabstained from her society till she should, by some sign, absolve himfrom his promise. On this occasion though, to her dread, he appearedsentimentally inclined, and Cecil, to whom a Sir Lancelot even would havebeen intolerable had he attempted to take the place of the lover she hadoutwardly discarded and inwardly enshrined, took refuge with JackVavasour, who regarded the approaching campaign in about the same lightas a steeple-chase--a delightful piece of excitement, with a spice ofdanger in it. 

His cheerful chatter amused and relieved the tension of her mind. 

"I shall be sure to come across Du Meresq, " he observed, with simpledirectness. "I shall tell him I saw you the last thing. How glad he willbe to hear of any one at home! Have you any message, Miss Rolleston?"looking straight in her face, which was glowing as he spoke. 

"Tell him, " said Cecil, who liked Jack, and trusted him more than anyone, "to be sure and write very often to his sister, who is dreadfullyanxious, as, indeed, we _all_ are. "

"Oh, yes, of course, " cried Vavasour; "but is that all? Let me give himthat glove, " which Cecil had been absently pulling off and on. 

"Certainly-not!" flaming up in a moment. "Give it to me back directly, Mr. Vavasour!"

Jack thought she was offended. "I didn't mean to be impertinent, MissRolleston. You know this is not like an ordinary occasion; and I am sureI didn't think there would be much in it. "

"I know, I know. But don't invent anything from me to Bertie Du Meresq. "Then, with a softer manner, and most cordial squeeze of the hand as shesaw the other men rising to go, --"Good-bye, and come back safe, you dear, true-hearted boy!"

Next day the mystery came out. She had been qualifying as a hospitalnurse, with the view of joining Miss Nightingale's staff at Scutari. 

Cecil had quite anticipated the antagonism and ridicule with which thisannouncement would assuredly be met. A craze to go out to the Eastpossessed many romantic young ladies of the period, too adventurousto be satisfied with merely knitting socks and comforters for theirfrost-bitten heroes. Colonel Rolleston had frequently expressed aprofound contempt for this mania, refusing to perceive any more exaltedmotive for it than a desire to follow their partners. So his horror maybe imagined when his own daughter, whom he had always credited with acertain amount of sense, thus enrolled herself in the ranks of these fairenthusiasts. 

Cecil allowed the first torrent of words to expend itself, but, in replyto the contemptuous query of "What earthly use could she be?" reiteratedthe fact of her having received a certificate of competency from thehospital, and adding, that as five of the sisterhood were shortly to betaken out to Scutari, it would be easy for her to accompany them as avolunteer. Then, evading further discussion by leaving the room, shecalmly left the idea to work. 

It was not certainly innate love of the occupation that had made Cecil sodiligent an attendant of the accident ward. At first she shuddered andfaltered at the simplest operation in which her assistance was calledfor, but it was essential to test her own nerve before dressing gun-shotwounds, besides which, a certificate from the hospital would muchfacilitate her chance of being taken out to Scutari. And, moreover, shewas desperately unhappy, and rushed into anything to escape from herself. 

I don't know how it was that Cecil prevailed in the end. A year ago, ifshe had proposed such a thing, Colonel Rolleston would have a consideredher a fit subject for a _maison de sante_, but he had been thinking forsome time that his daughter was "odd. " She was evidently turning out oneof those unmanageable beings, an eccentric woman. Of age, and with anindependent income, if baulked in this, she might only do something elseequally perverse, and, though a most extraordinary fancy for a girl sobrought up, he would not oppose it further. 

And then Cecil, when she had got her wish, with a strange inconsistencyseemed almost inclined to give it up again. But the Colonel, being inignorance of her vacillating purpose, took her passage in the same shipas the other nurses. 

Work enough was there for every one when that vessel reached itsdestination. The battle of the Alma had just been fought, and the woundedwere being brought in daily to Scutari. 

In the mean time, Colonel Rolleston had sailed with his regiment, andMrs. Rolleston fell into such a state of nervous depression, that Cecilsaw it would be cruel to abandon her--another opportunity for going outwould soon occur, and defering her journey till then, she remained athome to fulfil the more obvious duty of supporting the sinking spiritsof her step-mother. 

And so passed many weary weeks. The battle of the Alma had been won, andnone of their belongings had appeared in the long list of killed andwounded. Mrs. Rolleston, becoming more accustomed to suspense, bore upwith greater fortitude. Letters from the seat of war were, of course, waited for with fearful anxiety, and on the few and far between occasionswhen these arrived, they were all comparatively happy. 

One evening Cecil was sitting alone in her own room, and, being verytired after a long day at the hospital, dropped asleep in her chair. Sheawoke with a feeling of deadly chilliness. The moon was shining into theroom, and the figure of Bertie Du Meresq, keen clearly by its rays, wasstanding quietly gazing at her. 

"Bertie!" shrieked Cecil "Oh, when did you come?"--and she tried to rushforward to greet him, but her limbs seemed paralyzed, and he did not moveeither, though a sad, sweet smile seemed to pass over his face. _Was_ ithimself, or only a quivering moonbeam? for when she was able to movethere was nothing else to be seen. 

A ghost itself could not have been whiter than Cecil, as she fled to thedrawing room, and almost inarticulately described what she had beheld. 

The very horror it inspired made Mrs. Rolleston repel the ghastly ideaalmost angrily. 

"Good heavens, Cecil, why do you frighten me so! You had fallen asleep, and were dreaming. You say yourself, " and she shuddered, "_it_ was gonewhen you awoke. "

"You know, " said the girl, not apparently attending, "I have never seenBertie in uniform, but this is what he wore, " (describing the dress ofthe ---- Hussars), "and his tunic was torn. "

"That is too absurd, Cecil. All Hussar uniforms are more or less alike, and you must have seen many. It _is_ this dreadful idea of going toScutari that has filled your mind with horrors, and hospital work herehas been too much for you, and told on your nerves. "

But Cecil sat unheeding, as if turned to stone, with such a grey look ofdespair on her face, that Mrs. Rolleston longed to rouse her in any way. 

"Forgive me, Cecil, " she cried; "you _do_ care for poor Bertie, I see. "

She looked up with a vague, uncomprehending glance. 

"Who was so brilliant--who so brave--with that sympathetic voice, andwarm, endearing manner? He was wicked, I dare say!--he was not coldenough for a saint. "

Mrs. Rolleston listened painfully. 

"How every one adored him!" pursued Cecil. "I don't mean women--of course_they_ did: but all his friends would have done anything for him. I haveseen his letters; and who could touch him in countenance, manner, grace?And such a poetic, original mind! But he cared for me _most_, --he must, don't you think?" (looking up with dry, tearless eyes), "or he would nothave come to me to-night. "

"Then _why_, oh, why, Cecil, did you give him up?"

Her brow contracted for an instant. "I could not bear my sun to shine onany one else, " she cried, passionately "I grudged every glance of hiseye, every tone of his voice given to another. "

"Then, Bluebell _was_ the cause--" began Mrs. Rolleston. 

"'My eyes were blinded;' he cared no more for her than the rest. Had Ibelieved him, we might have been happy five months, for we should havemarried the day I came of age. "

"It will happen yet!" cried Mrs. Rolleston. "Shake off this fearfuldream, my dearest child. I know that Bertie cares only for you. "

"We have met to-night, we never shall again. "

"She will have a brain-fever, " thought Mrs. Rolleston, distractedly, "iftears do not come to her relief. " They did eventually, convulsively andexhaustingly, till she dropped into a death-like sleep far into the nextmorning. 

The sun had been shining for hours. Mrs. Rolleston did not disturb her, but the superstitious terror she had battled against the night beforereturned daring that long day, in an agony of impatience for news. 

But no submarine telegraph then existing, nothing was heard for a time. Mrs. Rolleston might have shaken off the gruesome impression, but for theimmovable conviction of Bertie's death that actuated Cecil. She assumedthe deepest mourning, and passed whole hours alone with her grief, perfectly indifferent to the opinion of any one. Indeed, since hisspiritual presence had, as she believed, appeared to her, he seemednearer than before, when they were parted and unreconciled. 

One day, late in the afternoon, Mrs. Rolleston was agitated by that weirdsound to anxious ears, the shouting voices of men and boys hawkingevening papers, and proclaiming startling news. She saw from the balconyher servant dart down the street for the gratification of his curiosity. He bought a paper, and perused it as he slowly returned. He got "quite aturn, " as he afterwards described it, when his mistress, pale as a sheet, met him at the door, and, without a word, snatched the evening journalfrom his astonished hands. 

No occasion to seek far. The sensational paragraph was in capitalletters, and contained the intelligence of the battle of Balaklava, andfamous charge of the six hundred, with its fearful losses. The cavalryregiments engaged were named. Among them was Bertie Du Meresq's, andmentioned as one that had suffered heavily. The returns of killed andwounded did not appear. 

Mrs. Rolleston had a friend at the Horse Guards, and instantly despatchedthe servant there, with a letter requesting further particulars as earlyas possible. Ill news does not lag. A letter from General--soon arrived, with its warning black seal. Captain Du Meresq was among the casualties. He had been shot through the heart during the charge. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

AN UNEXPECTED RENCONTRE. 

 Into a ward of the white-washed walls, Where the dead and the dying lay, Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls, Somebody's darling was borne one day. --Song. 

Mrs. Rolleston completely sank under this dreadful blow. Bertie had beenher darling and pride from his infancy, and her own misery was redoubled, in anticipation of the even greater anguish of Cecil. 

Strange to say, though, _she_ experienced no new shock. That Du Meresqwas dead, she had never doubted, or that his spirit, in the moment ofdeparture, had hovered for an instant near the one who loved him best. Itseemed to connect her with that other world whither he had gone. It didnot appear so far away, now Bertie was there, and her thoughts were everin communion with her spirit love. 

The hour in which he had, as she believed, appeared to her, she regularlypassed alone in the same room, and even prayed for another sign of hispresence. 

But if such prayers were answered, what mourners would remain unvisitedby their dead?

This room became her "temple and her shrine, " in which Bertie, all hissins forgotten, was canonized. How incessantly she regretted havingparted with those letters, so impulsively affectionate and so entirelyconfidential! To be sure, they were chiefly about himself; but whatsubject could be so interesting to Cecil? His normal condition ofpicturesque insolvency was only a proof of generosity of disposition andabsence of meanness. Now she had nothing but a letter not her own, andthat one last message, "Give my dearest love to Cecil. "

Whether or no the vision was really but a dream, we leave to the decisionof our readers. It was not unnatural that the dominant idea shouldimpress that unreasoning moment between sleeping and waking; but Cecil'sfervent faith knew no doubts, and thus it was that Du Meresq deadinfluenced her as much as when living. 

They soon heard from Colonel Rolleston. Part of his regiment had beensent to seek and bring in the wounded; his brother-in-law's body had beenfound and brought back by Vavasour, and he sent his wife Bertie's watch. The newspapers were full of the disastrous but glorious charge of thecavalry, and of their immense loss. 

In Du Meresq's regiment all the senior had been cut off. Had he lived, hewould have been Colonel of it, a position which Lascelles survived tofill. 

There appeared no respite from anxiety for those who had relatives in theEast. Within two months the battles of the Alma, Balaklava, and Inkermannhad been fought. Colonel Rolleston seemed to bear a charmed life; for, though repeatedly under fire, he had come out unscathed. Many of hisofficers were killed, Fane slightly wounded, and Jack Vavasour hadlost an arm. 

In the ensuing spring Cecil roused herself. Though all her hopes weredead, the native energy of her character asserted itself, and rebelledagainst utter stagnation. Some letters she had received from the nursesin the Crimea rekindled her former enthusiasm, and she determined toexecute her original project, and go out to the aid of her sufferingcountrymen. 

Mrs. Rolleston was now more hopeful, and, far from opposing Cecil'swishes, cheerfully forwarded them. She looked upon hers as so cruellyexceptional a lot, that any absorbing occupation capable of distractingher mind was only too welcome. And so when

 Spring Came forth, her work of gladness to contrive, With all her reckless birds upon the wing, Cecil, turning "from all she brought, " was far on her way to the East, and wishing, as she assumed the black serge hospital dress, that shecould as easily transform her internal consciousness as her outwardidentity. 

Hers was not a nature to do anything by halves, and every faculty of mindand body became absorbed in these new duties. The patient who fell intoCecil's hands had little to complain of. She struggled for his life wheneven the shadow of death had fallen on him, and sometimes, by arduousexertions and devoted nursing, saved one in whom the vital flame hadwasted almost to the socket. And then a nearly divine content came to heras she imagined she might have spared some distant heart the pangs thathad almost broken her own. 

But to follow her through the daily routine of duties, often painful, often touching, would be too long for the present history, so we passabruptly to one event, a necessary link in it. 

Cecil was attending a fever case, and looking anxiously for the doctor, as she fancied her patient was sinking. He was a young man, and had beenmore or less unconscious ever since he was brought in. 

The surgeon came, and shook his head as he felt the feeble pulse. 

"Is there no hope?" asked Cecil, sorrowfully. 

"Scarcely any. Give him this stimulant whenever you can get him toswallow it; but there seems no reserve of strength. " And he passed onto others. 

She lost no time in attending to his directions, and a large pair ofmelancholy brown eyes opened on her. They watched her about persistently, and seeing their gaze, though languid, was rational, she asked "if therewas anything she could do for him. "

His voice was so inaudible she could but just catch the sentence, "So hegives me over!"

"I don't think he would if he could see you now. Indeed, you seembetter. "

"I don't think I shall die; but, in case of accidents, will you writesomething for me?"

Cecil nodded, while holding rapid communion with herself. Ought she tolet him exhaust his little strength in dictating probably an agitatingletter?

"Will you wait till you are a little stronger?" she said doubtfully. 

"If I ever am, it will not be necessary to write; if otherwise I cannotdo it too soon. "

Cecil, judging by her own feelings that opposition to any strong wishwould be more injurious than even imprudent indulgence, glided from theroom, and soon returned with writing materials. 

She sat down by the bed, and casually felt the attenuated wrist as shedid so. The sick man gazed gratefully at her, but waited some minutes forbreath to commence. His first words made her almost bound from her chair, and, as he continued in low feeble tones, with long pauses between, Cecilwas wrought into an agony of suspense and interest. 

The communication was to be addressed to an uncle, and began abruptly:--

 "I was married to Theodora Leigh at a register office at Liverpool in November, 1853, and I make it a dying request to you to acknowledge my widow, who will otherwise be destitute both of money and friends. Forgive, if you can, my deception, and the poor return made for all the benefits lavished on your, notwithstanding, grateful nephew, "HARRY DUTTON. 

 "P. S. --My wife is a governess in the family of Mr. Markham, Heatherbrae, Wimbledon. "

It was sealed, directed, and the patient had sunk into a heavy stupor;but Cecil felt her heart stirred as she had never expected to do again. 

Here, if she had required it, was complete exoneration of any subsequentintercourse having taken place between Du Meresq and Bluebell. The latterevidently had been far otherwise engaged, and, for the first time, shefelt her long-cherished resentment melting away. 

She gazed with some curiosity at the man who could so soon supplantBertie, and smiled with irrepressible bitterness at the singularcoincidence that she should be striving to preserve a husband toBluebell, who had deprived her of her own early love. 

But where could she have met this man, whom she had married almostimmediately on landing in England? Cecil looked again at theaddress--"Right Honourable Lord Bromley. " She had heard that namesomewhere, but could not recall any connecting associations. 

Harry lingered some time, his life frequently despaired of; and he wouldprobably have succumbed had it not been for the untiring energy and careof the hospital nurse. Her anxiety could not have been exceeded byBluebell herself, for Cecil's disposition was generous, and she nevermore truly forgave her _ci-devant_ enemy than when thus labouring toreturn good for evil. 

At last the turning-point was reached and Dutton lifted from the verygates of the grave. A wound in his leg was now the chief retardingcircumstance; and as it seemed incapable of healing at Scutari, he wasordered on sick leave to England. 

In the mean time, a lively friendship had arisen between him and Cecil. Directly she admitted her name and former intimacy with Bluebell, Harrytook her entirely into his confidence, and, encouraged by the evidentinterest with which she listened, related how he had first met and fallenin love with Bluebell on the steamer, and subsequently persuaded her toelope with him. 

He did not deny the interested motives which had afterwards induced himto conceal the marriage; but Cecil's upright mind recoiled at theunworthy deception, and the strong view she took of it made short workof the extenuating circumstances advanced by Harry. 

The dying appeal to Lord Bromley had, of course, been burnt since itswriter's recovery; but Dutton, now thoroughly ashamed of his shabbypolicy, vowed to Cecil that he would abandon all thoughts of inheritance, and boldly acknowledge his marriage to Lord Bromley as soon as he shouldset foot in England. 

This was their last interview; for, as he had now approachedconvalescence, she had no further excuse for ministering to Harry. 

It was some time since he had received tidings from his wife, havingpurposely kept her in ignorance when he volunteered into Peel's brigade. Then he was wounded and laid up at Scutari, so whatever letters she mighthave written would be on board the "Druid. "

Now he must apprise her of his approaching return and explain his longsilence. As it happened, a homeward-bound steamer sailed within a fewdays of the one which carried this letter, and Dutton, obtaining apassage in the former, which happened to the faster of the two, arrivedin England almost simultaneously. 

Without further notice, he rushed down to Wimbledon, and, had she beenthere, would speedily have solved the mystery that had so exercised Mrs. Markham. But, lo! on reaching Heatherbrae, he beheld with a sinking hearta conspicuous board on the garden-gate, with the words, "To be let, furnished, " legibly inscribed thereon. 

Weak from his illness and the disappointment, Harry leant against therailings to consider and recover. He had been so secure of findingBluebell there, and during the whole hurried journey was picturing themeeting. How would she look? He knew so well the fluttering colour thatchanged in any emotion, pleasurable or otherwise: but would he see a trueloving welcome in those transparent eyes? He had considered everyprobability or improbability of this sort, but not how he should actin such a dead lock as the present. 

Repeated rings at the bell at last brought out the woman in charge, herarms covered with soap-suds, and gown drawn through a placket-hole. 

"The family had gone abroad, " she said. "No, she did not know where. Theagent might, perhaps. She was only there to show visitors the house. "

Harry turned away in listless perplexity; it was quite evident thisperson could tell him nothing. Doubtless their change of plans had beencommunicated to him by post, but he had not waited to send for letters. There was nothing for it but to obtain from the woman the address of thehouse-agent, get Mr. Markham's from him, and send another letter toBluebell. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

OLD HEAD ON YOUNG SHOULDERS. 

 How could I tell I should love thee to-day, Whom that day I held not dear? How could I know I should love thee away, When I did not love thee a near? --Jean Ingelow. 

We must now see whither the vicissitudes of fortune have conducted Mrs. Dutton. Her pleasant home at the Markhams' was gone. They had lostheavily in the failure of a bank, and were living abroad to retrench, while Mr. Markham pursued his profession in London. 

Bluebell was the first luxury to be cut off, though, as a home duringHarry's absence was what she chiefly required, she would willingly haveremained for nothing. It was unspeakable grief to part with Mrs. Markham, who alone understood how oppressively her secret weighed on her, and herincessant anxiety for news from the seat of war. 

One day, --it was after the battle of Balaklava, --when shuddering over, inthe _Times_, the ghastly "butcher's bill, " Bluebell came upon Du Meresq'sname among the killed, and the shock to nerves that had scarcely yetrecovered their equilibrium nearly brought on a relapse of her formerillness. 

Yet, as her mind cleared from its first horror, she was amazed to find itwas not Cecil she was most feeling for, and that the cry, "Thank Heaven, it is not Harry!" had arisen spontaneously to her heart. I supposeBertie's neglect had effected its own cure; but certainly some secretinfluence was turning the tide of her affections into its legitimatechannel. 

Yet their correspondence was not only desultory, but constrained. Dutton, never convinced of possessing her heart, and angry with himself at thepart he had acted, had no pleasure in writing; and Bluebell was as shy ofher new-found feelings as though he were still an unacknowledged lover. 

But whenever a ship came in without bringing a letter, she was filledwith foreboding and dread. Still, there was always the consolation thathe was public property, and as long as she did not see his deathreported, might conclude him to be safe. 

And he never did write anything to excite alarm. No more perils orhair-breadth escapes could be inferred from his letters than if he weremerely residing abroad from choice. 

Mrs. Markham obtained her another situation. She had never succeeded indiscovering to whom Bluebell was married; but having persuaded herself itwas unnecessary to let that stand in the way, simply recommended her inher maiden name. 

"I look upon your governessing as a farce, you know, Bluebell, though anyone would gladly snap you up for your music alone. But when this war isover, the mysterious husband will return, and you will pay me a visit inyour true colours. "

And so they parted, with many promises of correspondence. 

Bluebell's next venture was at Brighton, and she drove to BrunswickSquare one chilly afternoon in March, rather dejected at the prospect ofbeing again thrown among strangers. 

"Not at home, " said the servant. "Mrs. Barrington is hout-driving. "

"Oh, it's all right, " said a pert maid, tripping downstairs. "This way, miss. I was to show you your room, and the children's tea will be readydirectly. "

So saying, she preceded Bluebell upstairs to a chilly, firelessapartment. Houses in Brighton are not generally very substantially built, and the room was furnished on the most approved governess pattern, --justwhat was barely necessary, no more. Bluebell was impressionable, perhapsfanciful, for hitherto her "lines had fallen in pleasant places, " andshe shivered a little at the forbidding exterior, but was somewhatcheered by a suggestion of welcome conveyed by a bunch of violets on thedressing-table. "There's some kind person in this house, " thought she, yet lingering awhile in a purposeless manner, unwilling to walk aloneinto the school-room and face the strange children. While thushesitating, a demure little person came to fetch her, with tight plaitedhair, irreproachable pinafore, and stockings well drawn up. Two youngerduplicates were in the school-room. The table was laid for the eveningmeal, --thick wedges of bread-and-butter, calculated to appease but not toallure the appetite, and a large Britannia-metal teapot, with notinjuriously strong tea. 

There were a couple of globes, an old piano, and book-cases well stockedwith grammars and histories, and the fire was guarded by a high fender, effectually dissipating any frivolous notion of sitting with the feet onit. There was neither dog nor cat, nor even a stray doll, to distractattention from the serious business of education. 

Such was the impression conveyed to Bluebell, who was instantly filledwith well-grounded misgivings as to whether her qualifications might bequite up to the standard expected. Good gracious! those children lookedcapable of obtaining female scholarships, as they sat, with their keenimpassive faces, calmly adding her up, so to speak. 

Mrs. Barrington and her eldest daughter had just come in. "Oh, so MissLeigh has arrived!" cried the former, observing Bluebell's box in thehall. "Dear me, what a bore new people are! I really must rest, as wedine out. Couldn't you go up, Kate, and say I hope she is comfortable, and will ring for the school-room maid whenever she wants anything, andall that?"

"That would console her immensely, I should think, " said Miss Barrington, laughing. "Well, I will go and look her over, mamma, and report theresult. "

As Kate entered, her little set speech, that "mamma was lying down, buthoped, " etc. , was almost suspended on her lips, as she gazed withunfeigned curiosity at the new governess. Seated pensively behind the urnwas a fair girl, dressed in black, with an Elizabethan ruff round a longwhite throat. Shining chestnut hair contrasted with a complexion of thepurest pink and white, while a pair of dewy violet eyes looked shyly upat her. "Good heavens!" thought Kate, "she is the loveliest creature inBrighton at this moment. "

"I have also come to ask for a cup of tea. No, thank you, Adela, none ofthat! What buttered bricks! Goodness, children! don't you ever have cake, or jam, or anything?"

"Miss Steele used to say it would give us muddy complexions, and spoilour digestion. "

"Poor little victims! Never mind, you'll come out some day. I must makehaste and get married, Mabel, if you grow like that. But Miss Leigh mustbe starved. Do you like eggs and bacon?" with her hand on the bell. 

"Very much, " said Bluebell, smiling back, more in gratitude for the goodintentions than anything else. 

"Poor thing!" cried Kate, impulsively, quite vanquished by the smile;"you will be so dull when the children go to bed. I wish we were notgoing out to-night. I'll collect the newspapers, and send you up acapital novel I got yesterday from the library. "

Bluebell was cheered in a moment. "I am sure it was you whom I have tothank too, for those violets, " said she, touching a few transferred toher waist-belt, and beaming up at her new acquaintance. 

Kate nodded pleasantly. "Do you like flowers? I bought them in the King'sRoad this morning. " A few minutes later she burst into her mother's room. 

"Where does this _rara avis_ hail from? I never clapped eyes on such abeauty--Miss Seraphin is not a patch on her!"

"Don't be so noisy, dear--Miss Leigh? Yes I heard she was nice-looking. "

"Nice-looking!" echoed Kate, contemptuously. "Just wait till you see her. She will be focused by every eye-glass in Brighton when she takes thechildren out for their constitutional. "

"Dear me! I hope she is a proper kind of person. "

"She looks rather in the Lady Audley style--and such a complexion! Icould have sworn it was painted if it had not varied so. Now I think ofit, " said Kate, with _malice prepense_, "she is not at all unlike thephotographs, of--, "--naming some one of whose existence she had nobusiness to have been aware. 

"It really is too bad of Mrs. Markham not having mentioned this, " criedMrs. Barrington, as if Bluebell had been convicted of a crime. "It ismost unpleasant having so _voyante_ a person about the children!"

"Oh, what does it matter, " said Kate, heedlessly; "you have no grown upsons. And she seems awfully nice. She has a face with a history in it, though. I shall try and make her out to-morrow. No one is ever soinnocent as she looks. "

Kate's admiration was still further excited next day as she listened toBluebell's singing. 

"You never heard anything like it, mamma--she could fill Covent Garden;and she composes too. I wonder if she has ever been on the stage?"

Less appreciative was the judgment of the erudite Mabel, who reportedMiss Leigh unable to continue her arithmetic beyond the decimal fractionsshe had attained to with Miss Steele. "In fact, " said the child, withdeep contempt, "I don't believe she has ever-gone beyond the rule ofthree herself. "

Indeed, the exact sciences were not Bluebell's _spécialite_, who nowemployed many a perplexed hour trying with Sievier's Arithmetic to workherself up a little ahead of this precocious pupil. Fortunately she wastolerably strong in history, having gone through a regular course withthe little Markhams; but it was evident, notwithstanding, that Mabel andAdela pretty accurately gauged her acquirements, and held themproportionably cheap. 

Kate, too, had become somewhat of a tease. I don't know what led her tosuspect that the governess had something to conceal, but she wasperpetually putting questions most difficult for her to answer; theincitement being the pleasure of watching, from an artistic point ofview, the beauty of Bluebell's ever-ready blushes while essaying to parryher tormentor's inquisitorial efforts. 

This cat-and-mouse game would go on till the victim, turning to bay, wason the point of desperately asking, "What she wished to find out?" ThenKate would veil her eyes, and look all innocent indifference. Observingthe avidity with which she pounced on newspapers, Miss Barrington one daysecreted them, much entertained by watching the governess circling roundthe room, glancing on every table or couch they were likely to have beenthrown on. 

"Try behind the sofa cushion, Miss Leigh. "

Bluebell started, vexed at being observed, and also at this proof of_espionnage_ on her actions, but a little later she fell into moreserious self betrayal. They were trying over songs in a locked manuscriptbook. 

"Dear me, what is this air? I know it so well, " she cried, incautiouslyhumming it. 

"A sea song of my cousin, Harry Dutton's. I had no idea any one elsepossessed a copy. "

There was no answer. She looked up, the blood had rushed over Bluebell'scheek and brow, her lips were apart, and eyes wide open and bright withwonder. Before she could drop a mask over the too eloquent face, Kate'skeen eyes were reading her off. 

"You know him, I see, " with emphasis. 

Bluebell, recovering presence of mind, with a desperate effort, repliedcalmly, --"There was a Mr. Dutton, who came home in the same steamer. Probably I may have heard him whistling the air. "--then sat down, andplunged into an instrumental piece, feeling quite unequal to endurefurther questioning. 

But the notes all the time seemed incessantly repeating, "So this is theCousin Kate he was always talking about. "'

Miss Barrington's mind was equally busy. 

"I bet Harry flirted with her all the way across, and he never told me aword of it--never so much as mentioned that there was a pretty girl inthe ship, and yet she admitted knowing his favourite air 'so well. '"

Then Kate remembered the many unaccounted for weeks between his landingin England and arrival at "The Towers, " and her former suspicion thatsome love affair had intervened. 

At first she had only been provoked to curiosity by Bluebell's reserve, but now there really was food for imagination to work on, and perhaps theclue to much that was perplexing in Harry. How curiously it had comeout!

The artless Kate smiled re-assuringly at her victim. She was on the tracknow, and the rabbit might have as much chance of ultimately evading theweasel hunting him by scent. 

"What perverse fate has brought me here?" sighed Bluebell, laying hertormented head on the pillow that night. "Miss Barrington will be sure tofind out everything. She was so friendly at first; but Harry always saidhe never trusted her. Then those children! I am sure they are morecapable of teaching me. Whenever shall I be extricated from this falseposition?"

A night's rest did not allay Bluebell's perplexities; on the contrary, more and more complications suggested themselves. Harry must know whereshe was by this time, and would be frantic at her having dropped intosuch an ants'-nest. They would recognise his handwriting, too, if aletter came. To be sure that would also strike him. Nevertheless she gotinto the habit of calling for her letters at the post-office, --aproceeding which the children did not fail to mention, with the rider, "That they wondered at Miss Leigh taking the trouble when she never gotany. "

Kate was rather inclined to patronize Bluebell. She persuaded her motherto give a musical party for the exhibition of her wonderful voice, andwas, on that occasion, quite as solicitous about the young artiste'stoilette as her own; and, being not averse to having a girl of her ownage to chatter to, bestowed a good deal of her society on Bluebell out ofschool-hours, which might have been more appreciated were it not for theexcessive caution it entailed on the latter. 

One day she heard that Mrs. And Miss Barrington were going to BromleyTowers for some theatricals and other gaieties. After her discovery ofwhose house she was in, that was only a matter of course, and she hadonly to conceal all interest in it. 

Kate was to take a part in one of the plays, and passed the interveningtime in getting it by heart, and rehearsing with Bluebell, while thenecessary costume was animatedly discussed between them. The latterfancied she had attained sufficient self-command to listen unconcernedlyto any conversation about Lord Bromley or "The Towers, " but she couldnot quench the beaming delight in her eyes when Kate one day observed, carelessly, --

"I believe you will see the play, after all, Miss Leigh, as mamma hasdecided to take Mabel and Adela, which means you also; for Uncle Bromleyhas rather a horror of children, and would no more have any of thejuveniles of the family without a keeper, than he would admit a pack ofhounds into the house. Why, Miss Leigh, you look delightful! Do youreally care to go?" Then her suspicions awakening, she set a trap likelightning. 

"I wonder" (carelessly) "if poor Harry Dutton will get back in time. Heis invalided home from Scutari. "

Self-command--everything--vanished. 

"How did you hear that?" with crimson cheeks and suspiciously dimmedeyes. 

"How?" with marked emphasis. "Would it not be stranger if one had notheard it? Uncle Bromley named it in his letter. He was wounded, "bringing out the words slowly, "and almost died in the hospital. I hopehe will survive the voyage home. "

"That girl's a fiend, " thought Bluebell, rushing off to her own room in aparoxysm of terror. Then, as she tried to think it out, it became quiteevident Harry could not be aware of her change of residence, perhaps hadreceived no letters at the hospital, and would not even know where tofind her when he returned. Still, she would be in the right direction, for no doubt he would go to Bromley Towers. But what a place to meet in!And, being ignorant of his address, she could not even send a line ofwarning. 

Romantic notions of fascinating Lord Bromley, and thus facilitatingconfession when Harry returned, stole through her brain. Kate's playpaled in dramatic interest to the possible "situations" that seemedimpending. One drawback to taming the lion was the probability ofscarcely being on speaking terms with him. Her mission, indeed, seemed tobe to keep the children _out_ of his way. But there were the theatricals;children, servants, governesses even, would be privileged to look on thatone night. The coquette nature, dormant from want of practice, awokeagain. Lord Bromley was only a man! Why couldn't she make him like her?

Kate observed renewed smiles and animation, and set it down to the hopeof seeing Dutton at "The Towers, " especially as she also detected herdoing what maids call "a little work for myself, " and effecting wonderswith a few yards of muslin and ruffling. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

THE LOAN OF A LOVER. 

 Parks with oak and chestnut shady, Parks and ordered gardens great, Ancient homes of lord and lady, Built for pleasure and for state. --Tennyson. 

This was Bluebell's first acquaintance with a really grand English park, and, during the long drive through it, she gazed in wondering delight atthe stately trees, heavy with summer foliage, the herds of deer, the calmlake, with kingly swans gliding over it. Perhaps her greatest surprisewas that all this fair domain belonged to one individual. Why, therichest "boss" in Canada possessed no more than a few acres of lawn andpleasure ground, with ornamental trees and shrubs, --all looking new, --theproduction of a self made man, grown rich within a few years. Thesestately oaks and beeches must have seen generations live and die, lordsof the manor, and she began better to understand Harry's reluctance torisk such an inheritance. 

"Oh, they are exercising 'Hobbie, '" cried the children "Then we shallhave some rides. "

Lord Bromley seldom presented himself to his guests till dinner-time. Polite grooms of the chamber offered tea, etc. , the housekeeper showedvisitors to their rooms. But on this occasion Mrs. Barrington wasvirtually lady of the house, and, being too late to receive, was involuble conversation with a few persons already arrived. 

Bluebell was not introduced to any one, and, her first sensations ofexcited curiosity having subsided, began to feel as if she must stiffento her chair if no one would speak to her and break the spell. It was awelcome relief when Adela exclaimed, --

"Mamma, may we go up to the nursery?"

"With all my heart, and take Miss Leigh. "

The children darted off across a slippery oak hall, up a flight of stonestairs with a velvety carpet, then along a passage leading to a privatestaircase with a red baize door shutting it off. It opened into a longlow room, still keeping the name of nursery, and at each end werebed-rooms, one for the two girls, the smaller for Bluebell. 

"This is such a jolly place, " cried Adela, who seemed to have left allher primness at Brighton. "You have never seen the spring woods, nor theamphitheatre, nor the waterfall!"

"Nor the terraces and gardens, nor the menagerie, nor dry pond, " addedMabel. "Oh, we could not show you everything in a fortnight. Shall wecome out now or after tea? It isn't laid yet. Let us have it out ofdoors. "

Bluebell was almost as eager as the children; and they spent the hot Juneevening under the trees, listening to bird choruses and the rich solo ofa lingering nightingale. 

Next morning she was conducted by her pupils round the spring woods, thesame walk that Dutton and his cousin had perambulated eighteen monthsago. It took just twenty-five minutes to make the circuit, returning tothe starting point, marked by a summer-house. 

When they had got about half way round, they were met by an old, sparegentlemen, slightly bent. He nodded to the children, spoke a casual word, and mechanically raised his hat to Bluebell. The intensity of herinterest gave animation to her countenance. 

"That's a pretty girl, " thought his Lordship, continuing on his way. 

He was in the habit of taking this constitutional every morning beforebreakfast, sometimes twice round, sometimes once. This day it was twice, and, walking at about an equal pace, the school-room party were passinghim nearly on the same spot. 

Lord Bromley paused again, said something to the children, and took asecond glance at Bluebell. 

"You are a young mistress of the ceremonies, Mabel; but why don't youpresent me to this young lady?"

Mabel looked up in astonishment, then said promptly, "Miss Leigh, LordBromley. "

A slight tremor passed over his face, and he leant a little more on hisstick, giving Bluebell an impression of extreme feebleness. After amechanical observation or two, rather to her disappointment he walkedaway, without further improving the introduction. 

Mrs. Barrington wished lessons to be proceeded with in the forenoon, sothey did not leave the nursery. In the evening the children were desiredto dress and come down with Bluebell till bed-time. It seems rather a_triste_ pleasure for a governess to have the trouble and expense of anevening toilette, with no expectation of entertainment beyond a cup ofcoffee if the servants remember to offer it, and the enforcedconversation of some good-hearted guest, who, in the absence of anysubject in common, can think of no more suggestive topic than inquiriesinto her daily walks, with threadbare remarks on the scenery. If she islively, and strikes out into fresh fields and pastures new, "she isforward, and a flirt. " If otherwise, she mounts the stereotyped smile, and gushes about the singing in church and picturesqueness of theneighbourhood, which, probably, by this time she loathes every featureof. Then come long pauses; the philanthropic guest mingles in generalconversation, and edges away, leaving her to retreat upon a photographbook. 

Little of all this did Bluebell dread, --she only longed to get downstairson any terms. Immured in the nursery, how could her little plot proceed?Her simple toilette was carefully considered while brushing out andarranging the shining coils of chestnut hair. Yet it was only a blackmuslin dress, cut _en coeur_, and relieved with her favourite ruffles. The children had brought handfuls of roses from the rosary--yellow, crimson, white, blush, pink. A York and Lancaster in her hair, a tea-rosein her bosom, and she was ready. 

Only the ladies were in the large saloon, which again dazzled theunsophisticated Bluebell with its magnificence. She found herself, asbefore, little noticed; but, the pictures, which she might studyuninterruptedly from a secluded corner, entertained her for some time. There were full-length portraits of Court ladies, by Lely, with wonderfullace on brocaded gowns. One had a little dog half hidden in the folds. The arch face of Nell Gwynne smiled over a door, a life-sizedGainsborough of a lady with a straw hat, reclining on a bank of flowers, was conspicuous over one fire-place. There were cavaliers with long, curled hair, gentlemen of a later date in pig-tails; but the most modernof all was a portrait of a boy playing with a large dog. On this one hereye lingered longest. Whom could it be? It was not in the least likeHarry, and yet she fancied something about it familiar to her. There wasa look of Lord Bromley, certainly--perhaps it was a portrait of him inchildhood. 

Mabel and Adela, meantime, were performing an elaborate duet. It was oneof her most irksome duties instructing these children in music, who wouldnever attain to more than mechanical excellence. When they had arrived atthe final crash, with not more than half a bar between them, Bluebell wassummoned to sing. The gentlemen came in from the dining-room at the lastverse, and, after a slight pause, she began another unasked. Mrs. Barrington thought this rather forward, but there was a suppressed murmurof applause when she had finished. 

One of the ladies addressed a few words to her, and then Kate carelesslybrought up a gentleman who had been tormenting her for an introduction. 

Bluebell had hoped that Lord Bromley would have spoken to her, aftertheir encounter in the morning. But he did not, though sometimes she feltsure he was looking at her. 

The undercurrent of excitement gave a feverish vivacity to her manner, which Sir Robert Lowther imputed to gratified vanity at his attentionsand he continued complacently by her side, till Mrs. Barrington said, --"Ithink, Miss Leigh, the children should go to bed, " and Bluebellunderstood she was expected to accompany them. 

It was very mortifying. Apparently she had been too much at her ease, andperhaps the _empressement_ with which Sir Robert had rushed to open thedoor might exclude her from coming down for the future. Then shereflected, with a little pardonable spite, that, if things turned outaccording to her hopes, Mrs. Barrington might, perhaps, repent havingmarched her off with the children like a nursery-maid. 

The following morning, at the same hour, Bluebell circulated the springwoods with her pupils, and, had he been a young lover approaching, herheart could not have beat higher than on again perceiving the bent formof Lord Bromley. 

Would he pass them with a courteous lifting of the hat to her? Of course;what else would he do? Her fervent aspiration had apparently a magneticeffect; or was it her face that was so tell-tale a mirror? Lord Bromleystopped, spoke a few words, and actually turned back with them!

Bluebell was in the seventh heaven. She had not yet learnt how littleeven personal liking weighs against ambition when the object of it isunsupported by the merit of being well placed in the world. Ifwell-tochered Lady Geraldine, pale and plain, had married the heir, everydoor in Bromley Towers would have been hospitably thrown open to herwhile the loveliest Peri, whose face was her fortune, might have stoodknocking at the portal-gate unnoticed. 

"Yet everything will go right if he only likes me!" To be liked, to beloved, that comprises all else with a girl. This one was not quite afool, only had not outlived her youthful illusions. 

An ardent desire to attain anything goes far towards success. Fearful ofbeing thought forward, yet longing to please, she seemed to awaken aninterest in Lord Bromley; though he talked playfully to all three, hisindulgent smile was for Bluebell. Another expression appeared sometimeson his face, the same that had perplexed her the previous evening--aninvestigating, speculating glance: and once, when becoming more at ease, her features resumed their play, his were suddenly contorted, as if asharp pang had seized him. 

The walk seemed all too short, for Lord Bromley did not take the second, but retraced his steps to the house. Bluebell fell into a reverie, tillsomething in the children's chatter attracted her attention. 

"Wasn't he nice this morning? Never saw him in such a good humour! Why, he hardly ever speaks to us!--hates children, mamma says. Do you know, Miss Leigh, Uncle Bromley never walked with us so far before. "

"Perhaps he thinks you are getting to a more companionable age, " saidBluebell, blushing; but her heart bounded triumphantly. 

It was an intensely hot afternoon. The ladies and some of the gentlemenwere grouped under the lime-trees near the house. Kate, standing by agipsy table, was pouring out tea, and keeping up a running fire of merrynonsense, her usual staff of danglers hovering near. The elder ladiesseemed equally content, knitting shawls and weaving scandal. The beeswere humming in the limes, "the rich music of a summer bird" overhead. The very air seemed green in the shadow of the trees. 

"There, " cried Kate, petulantly, "as sure as ever one is innocently happyin this wicked world, some species of amateur police obliges one to 'moveon. '" And she glanced over her shoulder at a gentleman approaching. 

He walked straight up to the group with a business-like, uncompromisingmanner, very different to the _dolce far niente_ attitudes; yet four ofthe number rose at once to join him. 

"Do have a cup of tea, " cried Kate, enticingly, with the view to areprieve. 

"No, thank you; never touch it. There is not _too_ much time, MissBarrington. "

"I know, I know, " with a resigned air, and a shrug to the four who hadrisen. And without another word they all mysteriously followed theirsummoner to the house. 

"What can they be going to do with Mr. Barton?" asked one of the ladies. 

"Oh, it's a great secret, " said Mrs. Barrington, laughing affectedly, "if they can only keep it. "

In fact, it was a rehearsal. Mr. Barton was stage-manager, and ruled themwith a rod of iron. He made the timid "speak up, " the giddy, practiseover and over again which side of the stage they were to enter and leaveby; threw more spirit in here, checked ranting there, and ventured toobject to the key in which Kate, as heroine, sang her song. He permitted"gagging" as a proof of presence of mind, provided the cue wasforthcoming; but now his great soul was perturbed by the absence of aprompter. 

"We really cannot do without one any longer, " cried he, in urgent appealto Kate, who rang the bell with an air of conviction. 

"I will send for Miss Leigh, with whom I have been rehearsing. She almostknows the play by heart, and set my song to music. "

Bluebell was starting out with the children, but came very willingly. Acting always had a charm for her, and, the play being pretty well in herhead, she could prompt and watch at the same time. 

Kate was too clever not to act well; but the _rôle_ of the simple, ingenuous heroine was scarcely suited to her. She did not _look_ it. Theother girl, Miss Heneage, said her part like a lesson, but could not actit. The men were imperfect--incapable of getting through a sentencewithout the prompter. Sir Robert was the most inattentive of all, beingmore interested in trying to set up a flirtation with Bluebell, whodemurely repressed him. 

Such were the elements Mr. Barton was preparing to appear before anindulgent public in two days' time. All the neighbourhood was invited tothe theatricals, and the evening was to close with a dance. 

This night Bluebell received no invitation to join the party below. Thechildren went down without her, and came up about nine, apparently in agreat state of amusement. 

"You'll get down to-morrow, I think, Miss Leigh. Uncle Bromley said tomamma, 'Where is your pretty governess, Lydia? Surely she is coming downto sing to us?' And Sir Robert muttered something about 'a beautifulsyren, ' and wanted to go up and fetch you. "

Bluebell was more gratified by the first part of this speech; that sillySir Robert would spoil everything. 

Next day, according to Mabel's prognostications, the ban was removed, andBluebell made free of the saloon in the evening, continuing, however, rigorously to retire when her pupils did. Somewhat to her discomposure, she found they had been chattering to Kate about Lord Bromley joiningtheir morning walks. Miss Barrington had turned this little circumstanceover in her mind rather curiously. Bluebell was apparently so wonderfullydiscreet with young men, it was strange she should go out early to flirtwith an old one. 

"Next time say you would rather walk in the Park, Mabel, " said she. 

And when the children rather confusedly acted on this advice, Bluebell, detecting Kate's hand in it, immediately assented, determined that noreluctance should be reported. 

The day of the theatricals arrived, and with it a great reverse offortune to Miss Barrington. She had driven early into the market-town ina small pony carriage for some essential no one but herself could choose. Now, though a good rider, Kate was a remarkably careless whip; andrattling through the town, the ponies shied at something, or nothing, swerved into a cart, and upset the tittuppy little trap in a moment. Theimmediate result to the fair driver was a sprained ankle, contused face, and fast blackening eye. Any amount of pain she would have cheerfullyendured sooner than give up her evening's excitement; but the unfortunateeye swelled, and got blacker and blacker, and nothing could be done. Herdespair was communicated to the whole corps, till Mr. Barton suggested asubstitute in Bluebell. It was carried _nem. Con. _, with the chillingconsent of Mrs. Barrington, who, though she would not hear of Kateappearing thus disfigured, had tried in vain to persuade Lord Bromley toput off the play. But he maintained it was now "too late forpostponement; Barton had said the girl could act; and Kate deserved thedisappointment, for she had no business to have upset herself, " etc. Inthe meantime Mr. Barton had carried off Bluebell for a severe rehearsal. The play was "The Loan of a Lover, " and as Peter Spyk he was interestedin his Gertrude. Sir Robert also, as Captain Amesfort, threw considerablymore animus into his scene since the change of heroines. 

Bluebell had tea with her pupils as usual, and joined in the _dramatispersona_ in the green room at nine. The company was arriving. The frontbenches were soon filled with ladies, while the men stood about in thedoorway, or looked over their heads. 

Among the latter was Harry Dutton. He had come without notice, too lateto join the party at dinner, and, thinking the whole thing rather a bore, scarcely glanced at the stage. 

"Mynheer Swizel! Mynheer Swizel!" Dutton started as if he had been shot. In a peasant's dress, and running on to the stage greeted by a round ofapplause, he recognises Bluebell! Here, at Bromley Towers!

Transfixed to the spot, his moonstruck gaze rivetted on the actors, people spoke to him, and he never heard. Conjecture, wonder, doubts ofhis own sanity, were whirling his brain. How did she get _here_, of allplaces in the world? With whom?--and under what name? Heavens, if sheshould suddenly perceive him, and stop short or scream! He moved behind apillar, where he could observe unseen. Peter Spyk was singing:--

 "To-morrow will be market-day, The streets all thronged with lasses gay; And from a crowd so great, no doubt, Sweethearts enough I may pick out. In verity, verity, verity aye, " etc

And then Gertrude, in a mocking voice, coquettishly sang, --

 "Be not too bold, for hearts fresh caught, Are ne'er, I am told, to market brought The best, they say, are _given_ away, And are not _sold_, on market-day. In verity, verity, verity aye, " etc

A round of applause and an encore followed. It was long since Harry hadheard Bluebell's voice, but he alone did not applaud. The play proceeded, and then Sir Robert came in as Amesfort. It hung a little here. Hefloundered, gagged, forgot the cue, and the voice of the prompter becamedistinctly audible. Happily, conceit bore him along. Harry winced as hedrawled to Gertrude, "Why, you are very pretty!" But when he proceeded tocatch her round the waist and offered to kiss her, he mattered an oath, and half-started forward. Warned by a look of curiosity in a bystander, Dutton fiercely controlled himself, but a burning desire to quarrel withSir Robert took possession of him. 

In the last scene, when she comes on as a bride, Harry remembered, witha curious laugh, she had never been so attired for him. Bluebell waswarming to her part. She and Peter Spyk were pulling the whole coach, andwhen the play was ended they were both loudly called for before thecurtains. 

Happy and delighted at her success, it was hard to fall from triumphto insignificance; but, in the first flush of the former, Bluebell wasleft in solitude. Her fellow actors had flown away to exchange theirtheatrical costume for ball dress, and she had received no _carteblanche_ to mingle with the dancers. 

Lingering listlessly alone in the greenroom, wishing to join the rest, and hoping some one might think of sending for her, she had thrownherself into an easy-chair, back to the door, which was half-open. Therewas a slight sound of a rapid, stealthy footstep, and, before she hadtime to look round, a twisted note was tossed into her lap. 

Bluebell started to her feet. Her heart gave one great jump, and hercheeks were blanched. 

She rushed to the door. Too late, --the passage was empty. After readingthe note, she walked backwards and forwards, in an incoherent state ofexcitement, pondering its contents, and was returning to the desertedschool-room, when she was met and stopped by Lord Bromley. 

"Not dressed yet!" he exclaimed. "Or is Gertrude going to dance in thispretty bridal array?"

"This dress is Miss Barrington's. Good-night, Lord Bromley, " saidBluebell, trying to pass. 

"What! you poor child, are you sent to bed? Come along with me. I'll makeit right with Mrs. Barrington. "

"I cannot, indeed. I am ill--I am tired, " said Bluebell, desperately. 

Lord Bromley's eyes were fixed inquiringly upon her; but people werecoming along the passage, and, escaping from him, she darted off. 

No one was in the nursery. Bluebell hastily changed her dress, wrappedherself in a dark cloak, and drew the hood over her head; then, descending the staircase, listened a moment at the foot. No one seemedabout. She flew down a dark passage into the billiard-room, threw openthe French window, and stepped out. It was as dark as a summer's nightever is, and a soft shower was falling; but Bluebell took no heed. Avoiding the front of the house, she threaded her way by the backsettlements. A dog barked, and a poaching cat was marauding about. Thegrass felt damp and clinging as she struck into what was called "The WestDrive. " It was not kept exactly in lawn order there. A hundred yardsfurther on was a summer-house, thatched inside and out with moss, fromwhich, long ere she reached it, Harry Dutton emerged, and, folding her inhis arms, drew her within its shelter. 

In the meantime, the ball was in full swing; every now and then inquirieswere made for the missing heir. "Did not Mr. Dutton come to-night? Iwonder what has become of him!" Lord Bromley wondered too; but, before hehad time to be really offended at his absence. Mr. Dutton was observedvalsing with Lady Geraldine. The young sailor was no whit lessinteresting for his Crimean campaign, to which his wound lent anadditional _prestige_; and it was astonishing what severe remarks weremade on the unloveliness of the partner with whom he most frequentlydanced that night. 

And yet such criticism was more undeserved than usual, for a look ofgentle happiness softened and inspired her naturally plain features, andlent an unwonted tender grace to a somewhat inexpressive figure. 

Lord Bromley did not observe their frequent contiguity with the samesatisfaction as of yore. On the contrary, his eye rested on Harry with asomewhat sarcastic expression, and he remained thoughtful and _distrait_. 

CHAPTER XL. 

THE MINIATURE. 

 True, I have married her. The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. --Shakespeare. 

Lord Bromley did not suffer the nocturnal festivities to interfere withhis morning walk, during which he came upon the governess and her pupilslooking as fresh as the dawn. 

"I need not ask if you have recovered from last night, Miss Leigh, "observed he, dryly, as he bowed demurely, with a somewhat conscious air. 

"Did you dance?" asked Mabel; "for I heard you come up just after thestable clock struck one, and the music had been going on for ever solong. "

Now, it might have been half-past eleven when Miss Leigh had professedherself to Lord Bromley as too ill and tired to dream of dancing. Lookingthe consternation she felt at this contradictory piece of evidence, sheremained silent, not daring to raise her eyes. 

"Who would have taken you for such an actress!" said the peer, in ratherambiguous accents. 

Bluebell looked up desperately; her expression was ingenuous, but halfimploring. 

"Such nerve and command of countenance!" rhapsodized his Lordship, withthe same odd fixed look and sarcastic inflection of voice. "The idea ofthe plot so perfectly conceived and played out! Had you much practice--inCanada. "

"I have played in charades and small pieces, " wondering how he knew shehad been in Canada. 

"But you never _really_ acted till you came to England? How long was thatago?"

"Some time now, " confusedly. 

"Nearly two years, perhaps?"

"About that--no, not quite so much, " more and more perplexed by hismanner. 

"I hope you'll come down, and sing to us to-night. Miss Leigh. I am notsure I don't prefer that accomplishment for young ladies--it is _safer_. "He turned away, leaving Bluebell in bewilderment. 

Kate, recovered by a night's rest, would consent to no more seclusion;the blow was not much of a disfigurement now, and she was making animmense fuss over Harry, which suited him well enough to encourage, as herather repented the imprudently frequent dances with Geraldine, and feltembarrassed in her society this morning. 

The cousins were sitting on an ottoman, in half-teazing, half-affectionate discourse, when Bluebell, feeling like a conspiratorof the deepest dye, entered demurely with her pupils. Kate watched Harrynarrowly, who did not appear to have observed their entrance. 

"You seem to have forgotten Miss Leigh, " she remarked. "Did you nottravel together from Quebec?"

Dutton, somewhat staggered by her correct information, shot a swiftinquiring glance at his cousin. 

"To be sure--so it is Miss Leigh. I thought last night I knew the face--"

"Why don't you go and speak to her?"

"I am shy--perhaps she won't remember me. "

"Miss Leigh, Mr. Dutton thinks you have forgotten him. "

Bluebell bowed stiffly, very much on her guard; for she saw that LordBromley was an attentive observer, and his strange behaviour in themorning had given rise to an uncomfortable suspicion that he might(though how, she could not imagine) be cognizant of the tryst in the WestWood. Harry moved to a seat near, and began an indifferent conversationwith her, that the whole room might have heard. 

"Can it be all--kid, " thought Kate, "or was there really nothing betweenthem?"

At that instant Sir Robert lounged up, and threw himself in a familiarmanner on the other side of Bluebell. 

Dutton's face darkened. He had taken an antipathy to this man, whocommenced a sort of condescending flirtation with his wife. He calledher "Gertrude, " too, and poured out compliments on her acting, describinghis despair at being unable to find her among the dancers afterwards. 

Harry was boiling, Kate exultant. "I knew I was right, " she thought. 

Bluebell was summoned to the piano. Sir Robert followed. It was asemi-grand, and he leant on the other end, opposite to her. 

"Where is the music? Oh! you play without. So much the better. One seesthe eyes flashing. "

It was not the only pair, for Dutton's were fixed upon Sir Robert with aferocious expression, apparent even to his obtuseness, and somewhatsurprised, he returned it with a slight stare and elevation of theeyebrows. That night, in the smoking-room, the antagonism between the twowas more pronounced than ever. Sir Robert explained it by a conjecturethat "Dutton was sweet on the little governess, and d--d jealous. " He wasnot particularly popular among the other men: but all agreed that Dutton"had been very rough on Lowther, and was not half such a cheery, pleasantfellow as he used to be. "

What would not Kate have given for an incident that befell Lady Geraldineone day! She had been much puzzled by Harry's manner since his return:for, though his appreciation of her was more heartily manifested thanbefore, she was conscious of a difference, --or rather, perhaps, analyzedit more truly now. Her adorers had not been so numerous as to disturb theimpression of the first man who had ever appeared to care about her; butshe could scarcely deceive herself longer--there was evidently nownothing warmer than liking left. 

Poor girl! she was easily discouraged, and felt no resentment; she didnot even think it necessary to conjure up a rival to account for thediscontinuation of his attentions, till a slight incident revealed one toher. She was sitting alone in the morning-room, and, being somewhat of achina fancier, turned a cup on a bracket upside down, to examine the markat the bottom. In doing so, a bit of paper fluttered out, and as shepicked it up, the words, "West Wood, four o'clock, " met her startledgaze. She was convinced that the writing was Harry's, but whom could theassignation be intended for? Soon after Bluebell came into the room as itseemed to her with no very apparent purpose Lady Geraldine, not withoutdesign, seated herself at a small writing-table, with her back to thebracket, and almost immediately heard a slight clatter. Miss Leigh hadvanished, and so had the paper from the teacup. 

"I wish I dare go to the West Wood, " thought Geraldine, for she was notall perfect, and the indignation in her heart inspired a deep desire toexpose the underhand behaviour of the designing governess. That eveningHarry had been talking to her longer than usual. Bluebell was singing atthe piano, and finally began the Persian song of "The May Rose to theNightingale. " Geraldine listened, attracted by the sentiment. One versewas unfortunately suggestive--

 Moonlight, moonlight, think'st thou he'd leave me For one so pale--for one so pale But moonlight, moonlight, if he deceive me, Tell not the tale--tell not the tale

Then Geraldine's pallid complexion was flushed with resentment, for sheimagined the words levelled at herself. Next day--unable to resist againexamining the cup--she found another fold of paper, but this time in afemale handwriting. Harry, of course, would come for it and shedetermined to remain till he did so. The room was then tolerably full. Some time after Dutton dropped in with another man, and, all unconsciousof _surveillance_, lingered till only he and Lady Geraldine remained inthe room. 

"Mr. Dutton, " she said, in her somewhat reedy voice, "I understand alittle about china, but cannot make out the date of that little yellowcup, the mark at the bottom is so defaced. "

It was said meaningly, and Harry understood that he was discovered. Tothrow himself upon her generosity seemed an obvious necessity. With aconscious yet penetrating glance, closing the half open door, heexclaimed, impulsively, "Dear Lady Geraldine, may I tell you somethingabout myself?"

Geraldine flushed hotly. This was somewhat more than she had bargainedfor. With the slightest _soupçon_ of stateliness, dreading what was tofollow, she managed to say, that "Whatever he liked to tell her should gono further. "

"It will all be known soon enough, " cried he. "But I fancy LadyGeraldine, you have some suspicion I know I can trust you, and you havebeen always so kind and sympathetic to me, it is a much greater comforttelling you than Kate. "

Geraldine bowed her head. She was determined not to betray herself, andeven felt some little curiosity, though how abundantly that faculty wasto be gratified ere she left the room, she certainly had not foreseen. One result was, it had an immediately bracing effect, for, with all herhumility, Geraldine had the pride of self respect, and the confessioncompletely disabused her of the idea that Harry had ever aspired to beingsuitor of hers. It was a pang, no doubt. Even his confidence might have adouble meaning. Had she any of the fury of a woman scorned, what anamount of mischief would be in her power. But Harry's instinct was right, and he never regretted his reliance on Geraldine's honour and pride. 

Dutton and his wife continued to meet daily in secret. They had agreed toconfess to Lord Bromley directly the visitors should have left, but Ithink were still young enough to enjoy the stratagems necessary for thosestolen interviews. How many narrow escapes they were to laugh atafterwards and, in society, when they appeared on such conventional termsas respectful youth and prudent governess, how many _doubles entendres_Harry hazarded, to see Bluebell struggling with alarmed risibility. 

But the rash pair were outwitted at last, and run to earth by Kate in themoss arbour. How much of their conversation had been overheard, or howlong she had stood there before springing out, of course could be onlyconjecture. A violent start had been irrepressible, and, as they bothwere speechless from the shock, Kate remained mistress of the situation, and evidently not disposed to be merciful. A few sarcastic expressions toher cousin, some cutting remarks on Bluebell's deceitful and designingconduct, and she was gone--apparently for the purpose of exposing theintrigue she imagined herself to have discovered. Dutton sprang afterher, and Bluebell, in much vexation and alarm, returned to the house. 

Not much breathing time was to be obtained in the nursery, whither shehad hurried. The door was half open, and, entering unperceived, shebeheld a sight that gave her almost as genuine a start as Kate'sinopportune appearance. Yet it was only Lord Bromley sitting by thetable, looking pale and shaken, and gazing intently on--could she believeher eyes?--the miniature of Theodore Leigh. The case was broken. Bluebell had been gumming it, and had left it on the table to dry. Butwhy should he be studying it with such absorbing interest?

Lord Bromley raised his eyes, and fixed them sternly on the beautifulgirl. "Come here _Theodora_. "--and she started. "Whose portrait is this?"

"My father's. "

"Exactly. And, such being the case, your presence in this house requiressome little explanation. "

Unable to see the connexion between the miniature and this attack;Bluebell remained silent and confounded; but, as he continued to gazeseverely at her, she roused herself to reply. 

"I came here because Mrs. Barrington brought me, and I went to her by thepurest accident. Did you _know_ my father, my Lord?"

"Simplicity may be rather overdone! Do you think, child, I have notseen through your evident desire to ingratiate yourself?--and schemingyourself into this house will, I assure you, not further your designs!"

Bluebell could not deny the former charge, though guiltless of the latterinsinuation. But who could have betrayed their marriage, and why did heonly blame her?

"I do not know who may have prompted you, but if he thought duplicity andcunning a recommendation in a grand-child--"

"Grandchild!" echoed Bluebell. "What can you mean, Lord Bromley! SirTimothy Leigh was _my_ grandfather!"

"Which, as you probably very well know, I have not been called forfifteen years!"

Still the intense perplexity of her face was staggering his impressionthat this adventurous daughter of his disinherited son was trying by a_coup de main_ to cancel the edict of banishment, and to obtain favourand fortune at his hands. 

"_You_ my grandfather!" she reiterated, mechanically, her eyes, wonderwide, staring at the old man with child-like directness, that produced amore convincing effect on his mind than any words. After all, it wasquite possible she might not have heard of his succession to a remotepeerage, and this amazement was certainly not assumed. Moreover, theexpression of her face was conjuring from a dim past a host of memories. He became strangely moved, and could scarcely bear the gaze whichrecalled so forcibly Theodore in his youth. 

Which made the first movement neither knew. "My dearest little girl!" hemurmured, and folded her in his arms. 

Bluebell was weak and silent from surprise mingled with extremehappiness, and Lord Bromley had gone back in thought to former years, anddare not trust himself to speak; so they were both too absorbed to noticethe entrance of Harry Dutton, who remained rooted to the spot (like astuck pig, as he afterwards elegantly described it), and a smotheredexclamation burst from his lips. 

Lord Bromley hurriedly withdrew himself from Bluebell, not particularlygratified at being surprized in so romantic a _pose_ at his time of life. 

"What the d----l are you doing here, sir?" he angrily demanded. 

Harry, considering he had quite as good a right to ask that question, turned inquiringly and gloomily to Bluebell, who, feeling if sheattempted to open her lips she must either go off into a hysterical fitof laughter or burst into tears, said nothing; and the uncle and nephewcontinued to glare at each other. 

She signed to Dutton to speak; but he was too mystified and sulky; soBluebell, in desperation, plunged _in medias res_. 

"Harry!" she cried, "this is my grandfather as well as your uncle! Why, we must be cousins!" Then, after an instant's pause, with downcast eyesand crimson cheeks, she penitently kissed the old man's hand, andwhispered, --"He is my husband too; we meant to have told you to-morrow!"

So the dread secret was out at last! Silence, that could be felt, ensued, and seemed endless to the two culprits, who, with drooping eyes, waitedanxiously for him to speak. 

Now, this announcement was hardly so unexpected as they supposed, and farmore welcome than their wildest dreams could have anticipated. LordBromley's agent, who paid the annuity to Mrs. Leigh, was also in thehabit of giving him periodical information of the well-being of hisgrand-daughter. When, however, she eloped from Captain Davidson's house, he had lost sight of her for a time, but afterwards picked up the clue atMrs. Markham's. When they also disappeared so suddenly, the agent wasagain at fault, Bluebell having changed her situation in the interval. 

Advancing years had softened Lord Bromley. The tidings of her elopementwithout any positive proof of a _bona fide_ marriage preceding it, hadshocked him into bitter remorse for having left her, an unprotected waifand stray, to the tender mercies of the world, and now she had passed outof his ken, and he could not but fear the worst. 

In this frame of mind he came accidentally upon Bluebell in the springwoods, and the likeness to her father, which was singularly obvious, seemed the reflection of the thoughts that haunted him. Then, when Mabelmentioned her by name, it flashed upon him that what he had taken for atrick of imagination might be, indeed, a sober reality. Lord Bromleysought Mrs. Barrington, and elicited, in reply to his careless inquiries, the fact that the fair governess was a Canadian, and had come into herfamily from the Markhams'. This was conclusive, and he took everyopportunity of observing Bluebell with an almost hungry interest. Theelopement rankled unpleasantly in his mind. He watched her conductnarrowly, and was pleased to see that she seemed prudent and careful;but his suspicions received a new direction by the mutual disappearanceof Dutton and herself on the night of his return. It was a coincidence, at any rate, for had not Mabel asserted she had not come upstairs tillone, before which hour Harry had not entered the ball-room? He alsodetected two or three looks of intelligence passing between them, then, when Kate remarked that they had returned in the same steamer fromQuebec, the mystery began to take a definite shape. He remembered hisnephew's confession of an attachment, and his absence for many weeksafter landing. At this stage a terrible possibility obtruded itself, andBluebell's inviting manner, which before had pleased him, seemed all anartful attempt to get into favour. 

The accidental sight of Theodore's miniature, which stirred poignantlythe stern heart of the father, precipitated the _denouement_, and theartless bewilderment of Bluebell under his reproaches lulled thesuspicions which her subsequent avowal of a marriage with Harry nearlyset at rest. There only remained those unaccounted for weeks, so that thefirst sentence he spoke to the peccant pair, whom we left in agitatedsuspense, surprised them by its calmness. 

"When did this happen?" And they could not guess how anxiously he waitedfor a reply. 

Now Dutton had come there expressly to bring Bluebell into Lord Bromley'spresence, having resolved to be beforehand with Kate, and make immediateconfession. Therefore he was provided with their marriage certificate, which he now produced, and silently presented to his uncle. 

The date was satisfactory, and Lord Bromley was relieved from the mostharrowing anxiety. Yet his brow did not relax as he turned gravely to hisnephew. "What was your motive, Harry, in concealing this marriage?"

Dutton was silent. 

"You may well be unwilling to express it. It was because you feared tolose the inheritance I have foolishly brought you up to expect. "

Harry looked up frankly, though writhing under his words. 

"I cannot wholly deny it, uncle, and if you now change your intentionstowards me, it is only what I expect. Bluebell and I were married hastilyat Liverpool, she is my best excuse for that. Afterwards, when I came to'The Towers, ' I meant to have told you, but--don't you recollect?--youpositively refused to hear what I had to say. Of course I ought to havepersisted. "

"And did Theodora also see the expediency of concealing her marriage tillmy death?"

"No, indeed, " cried Harry, warmly. "She would have risked everything tohave it acknowledged. It puts my conduct in an awfully cold-bloodedlight, but I hope you don't think me utterly ungrateful. "

"As to that, the less said the better, " returned Lord Bromley, coolly. 

Dutton turned away abashed and deeply wounded, for he really was attachedto the relative who had been his best friend and benefactor from infancyto manhood. Lord Bromley slowly left the room, and, sending for hisniece, endeavoured to explain to her the astounding facts that Bluebellwas the daughter of his disinherited son, and had been married to Duttonfor nearly two years. 

There was scarcely room in Mrs. Barrington's mind to grasp this newaspect of affairs, it being already taken up with Kate's shockingdiscovery of the heir, flirting in a secluded summer-house with thetreacherous governess. Very earnestly, therefore, she tried to convinceher uncle that he must be deceived, and that Bluebell was an impostor andan adventuress. 

"There's not a shade of doubt about her identity, " contested Lord Bromley"I have known for some time whom she was. Indeed, Lydia, you were myfirst informant when you told me where you had taken her from. Parker hadreported that Theodore's daughter was with some people of the name ofMarkham, and immediately found out accidentally that she was no longerthere and here is further proof"--and he placed before her the portraitthat he had carried away. It was difficult to [unreadable]. Convincedagainst her will, and deprived of the power of giving Bluebell immediatewarning, Mrs. Barrington [unreadable] fall back upon her own room, pulldown the blinds and take refuge in _petite sante_, till prepared to faceher emminent dependent in so new and unwelcome a position. 

Certainly this day of elucidation was not a pleasant one. Everybodyappeared in a changed point of view, and was feeling its awkwardness. Harry and Bluebell, hardly knowing if they had a right to remain there, wandering disconsolately about, like a modern Adam and Eve awaitingexpulsion from Paradise. 

Kate felt baffled and dangerous, --angry at her cousin having slipped sosmoothly through her fingers, and jealous of his wife. 

Lord Bromley, though deeply incensed with Harry, was longing to keepBluebell, whose every glance and gesture recalled his secretly lamentedson. Lady Calvert was on the point of departure with her daughter; andthe facts having percolated through the household, all the maids got sickheadaches from sympathetic excitement. 

Dutton had had a very stormy interview with his cousin when he rushedafter her from the arbour. Kate was determined to betray them, and hevainly tried to induce her to be silent. On one condition only would shepromise secrecy--that Bluebell should give immediate warning, and that heshould never speak to her again. But Harry only laughed, while Kate urgedeverything she could think of--ruin to his prospects, his uncle's anger, etc. 

"It is no business of yours, " reiterated Dutton. "If you say anythingabout it, you'll soon see you have made a fool of yourself, and thelittle you do know is by prying and listening. "

But Kate broke from him and darted into the house, past Lady Geraldine, who was just coming out, and who noticed with surprise the disturbedappearance of the two cousins. To Dutton she seemed a good angel sent toinvalidate the spells of an evil one. As the reader knows, she alone hadbeen entrusted with the secret of his marriage, and he now brieflyexplained that Kate was bent upon betraying his meetings with Bluebell, and entreated her, if possible, by any stratagem, to detain her forawhile. 

Geraldine, fully alive to the importance of the request, exclaimed witha gesture of impatience--

"_How_ provoking! when you were to have told your own story to-morrow! Bequick, Mr. Dutton, don't lose a moment, and I will undertake to keep Kateand Mrs. Barrington quiet till they can do no further mischief. "

A very grateful glance from Harry as he sprang away; and how he fared inthe dreaded interview is already known to the reader. 

CHAPTER XLI. 

A LOCK OF HAIR. 

 For which they be that hold apart The promise of the golden hours; First love, first friendship, equal powers, That many with the virgin heart. --In Memoriam. 

Another year had gone by since the _denouement_ at Bromley Towers. Thewar was over, peace proclaimed, and what remained of our armies hadreturned from the East. 

General Rolleston then retired from the service, and bought a very niceproperty near Leamington. He still saw a good deal of his old officers;Fane especially, who now commanded the regiment, spent much of his leaveat Pyott's Hill. He retained all his old admiration for Cecil, receivingas little encouragement as ever. Possibly that may have been the secretof his constancy, for certainly, as a Crimean hero, with seven thousand ayear to gild the romance of it, he did not find young ladies in generalvery hard-hearted. 

But Fane was ever ungrateful, and, after being petted and feted, sang at, ridden at, and generally made much of, only returned with fresh zest toCecil's unaffected and pleasant companionship. Yet, after each visit, inspite of manifold opportunities, being alone with her for hours, herconstant companion in rides and rambles, and given to her by every one inthe neighbourhood, he always found he had never really advanced an inch, and that nothing Cecil expected less than a proposal from him. 

So he always went away in despair, to return again at the faintest hintof an invitation from her father. 

General Rolleston was by no means displeased to observe this eagerness toavail himself of his hospitality, being quite as alive as heretofore tothe advantages of the match--he only wondered why Fane and his daughterwere so tardy in coming to an understanding. 

Cecil was very much liked in the neighbourhood. Everybody said she wasthe most unaffected girl in the world. But with all her admirers, she hadno flirtations--bright and cold was the verdict pronounced. Some said shewas strong-minded, for she was known to read a great deal, and had evenhad a picture admitted into the Female Artists' Exhibition. She wasfurther convicted of preferring long, solitary rides to joining thenumerous equestrian parties got up in the summer; but as public opinionhad unanimously agreed that she must be engaged to Fane, the unsocialtrait was excused on that hypothesis. 

About this period, he having just discovered her whereabouts, Cecilreceived a long letter from Harry Dutton, relating what he knew wouldinterest her--the strange events and transformations at "The Towers. " Asimilar one came to Mrs. Rolleston from Bluebell, who, now that she wasat liberty to speak, wrote something like a volume of narrative andexplanation to her friend. The latter, agitated and excited, flew toCecil with the wonderful news, unaware that she had heard it already fromDutton, or, indeed, of her acquaintance with him: for, considering thatall he had told her was in the strictest confidence. Cecil, as thesimplest way of keeping it secret, had never mentioned anything at allabout him. She must now, however, confess, for her step-mother was in aneffusive mood, and bent upon instantly inviting the Duttons to pay them avisit. 

Mrs. Rolleston received the information with some coldness and littlecuriosity, being naturally hurt at her step-daughter's concealment of afact of so much interest to her; and though she probably told theGeneral, he never afterwards alluded to the episode. Indeed, Cecil'slabours at Scutari were rather a tabooed subject, as Harry speedilydiscovered when one day he attempted to blunder out his gratitude to herfather. 

The Duttons were invited for a week; also Colonel Fane and CaptainVavasour. Cecil became restless and excited as the day approached. Thesight of Bluebell would cruelly re-open old wounds, and she had never metVavasour (who had brought back the slain body of her lover) since theCrimea. And he would talk to her about it, she was sure, for Jack hadlong ago fathomed their ill fated attachment. Altogether, it was a reliefthat other guests were coming to dinner, for they were all too intimatein one way and too far apart in another--a connecting thread seeming torun through all their lives. Jack, an old love of Bluebell's, Dutton, whom she had nursed through deadly peril, and Fane, only prevented beinga declared suitor by systematic absence of reciprocity on her side. Wellit was a mercy they all came in owl-light, scarcely dusk enough forcandles, but pleasantly veiling countenances not too much under command. 

Bluebell and Cecil had determined beforehand that they must embrace, andmutually dreaded it. It was not, however, such _a blanc-mange_ affair asosculation among ladies often is, for they were both agitated by toovivid memories. Bluebell's feelings were pleasantly diverted byrecognising Jack--blushing with delight like the boy he still was. Somehow, he was the only one of the party she felt entirely at ease with, and found herself, as of old, chattering and laughing at as much as withhim, just as if three sorrow-laden years had never intervened. 

Dutton contrived to get by Cecil at dinner, though he had not taken herdown, and their conversation was sufficiently interesting to make themforget their appointed partners. 

"And you _are_ quite restored to favour?" Cecil was saying, "and theuncle not half so implacable as you expected?"

"I don't know about that, " cried Harry. "He has altered to _me_, I think. Bluebell is all the rage now, she actually is admitted into his sanctumevery morning, to read him the papers. I shouldn't wonder if she turnedout Queen Regnante and I were only Prince Consort!"

Cecil, I think, liked Dutton much better than his wife, with whom it washard to resume old relations. Besides, she seemed now quite the favouriteof Fortune, with every difficulty and hardship smoothed away, and tothose who have suffered, it is harder to rejoice with those who dorejoice than to weep with those who weep. 

So Bluebell was happier alone with Mrs. Rolleston when the men werehunting or out of the way. Dutton once ventured to question Cecil aboutFane, whose hopeless passion was evident to every one in the house. Shelooked vexed, disconsolate, and gave her usual answer, that there wasnothing in it, and never would be. 

Dutton gently tried to combat this assertion. He had heard all aboutBertie, but of course thought it was useless grieving over spilt milk;that time enough had passed since then; and that she had far better marryand forget. 

Cecil smiled with a sort of sad amusement at all this and his slightassumption of marital experience. Harry and Bluebell seemed years youngerthan herself, --a giddy, happy young couple, the very sunshine of whoselives dazzled them too much to see into the depths of hers. 

One afternoon she had started for a lonely walk. The rest of the partywere pretty well disposed of--Bluebell driving with Mrs. Rolleston, andthe others, she thought were with the General; but it did not muchmatter. It was a blustering February afternoon--Cecil long remembered it;the north wind had strewn the ground with dead branches, and cawingrooks, on the eve of wedlock, were drifting about incoherently on thebreeze. She was following the course of a brook where the groundswidened into a wild, brambly park, and looking over her shoulder sheperceived Jack Vavasour some distance off, coming along with rapidstrides as if bent on overtaking her. 

Cecil sauntered slowly on, not ill pleased at the opportunity of anunreserved conversation with Jack. She noticed, with furtive amusement, that he slackened his pace considerably as he neared her, probably togive an accidental aspect to the encounter. She turned round with acontented smile of expectation, and they wandered on together, Cecilinstinctively choosing the most unfrequented and far-off boundary of thepark. It was impossible to keep up long a commonplace conversation, andthey became more and more _distrait_ and nervous, each wishing toapproach one subject, and neither liking to begin. In such a case, it isalways the woman who breaks the ice. An allusion to the war wassufficient in this instance, and Jack responded so eagerly, she wasconfirmed in her impression that he had something to tell her. Withoutwaiting for further questioning, he plunged into Crimean reminiscences ofBertie Du Meresq, whom he had seen nearly every day till his death, toall of which poor Cecil listened with breathless interest, and yet she_knew_ there was something more to come. 

"You know, " continued Vavasour, "his watch and things were sent back toEngland; but when we cut open his tunic, to see if he was breathing, something dropped out that he had worn through the action. I kept _that_, for I thought I would restore it only to the rightful owner. "

What intuitive feeling was it that made her wish he would say no more!Jack was opening his pocket-book, and drew out a piece of folded paper. 

"I knew it in a moment, " he cried, as a long coil of soft, dark hairappeared, so closely resembling Cecil's own as fully to justify hisconviction that it was so. 

He had expected to see her greatly moved; but the sudden pallor of herface puzzled him, which sensation was still more intensified when herlarge eyes flashed a moment upon him with an expression he never forgot, and, turning abruptly away, she walked towards the house. 

Of all the trouble Cecil had gone through of late, I think forconcentrated bitterness this moment was the worst. Though the colour wasidentical, by feel and texture she knew the tress was not her own, addedto which, no such token had ever passed between herself and Bertie. 

Well, there was no temptation to linger over the dead past now, which hadreceived its _coup de grace_ that wintry afternoon; almost every one feltthat some subtle change had passed over Cecil. Perhaps the one who leastfelt its uncannyness was, Fane, who hovered near her with a brighter air. No doubt some of the party were surprised when, just before it broke up, the engagement of Cecil and Fane was announced; but no one guessed thetruth except Jack Vavasour, who, anxious and remorseful, only cursedhimself for a blundering idiot. 

They were married on her twenty-fourth birthday, much to the relief ofher bridesmaid-sisters, who had begun to fear Cecil would be an old maid. Fane sold out, and took his wife abroad, while the old Elizabethanmanor-house, which, since his succession to, he had never lived in, waspainted and luxuriously refurnished for the reception of the bride. 

'Twas a pity Cecil married a rich man. Her best chance would have beenhaving to think, work, deny herself for another, who might thus havebecome dear from the very sacrifices entailed by him. It was hard onFane, who had been constant so long, and found he had grasped nothing butfairy gold. The old manor house was generally full, for somehow bothdreaded a _tête-à-tête_, and equally, in early days especially, abetrayal of the feeling. 

Cecil left her guests pretty much to their own devices in the morning, and read and painted in her own peculiar den, fitted up half as alibrary, half as a studio. The winter she devoted to hunting, andscarcely any meet was too distant or country too intricate for her. Bertie's riding lessons, at any rate, had not been forgotten, andcarelessness of life is certainly conducive to steadiness of nerve. JackVavasour, who was out one day, was under the impression she wished tobreak her neck. Mrs. Fane became noted in her county for going with themost unflinching straightness, but so little did she care for thereputation, that sometimes she would stick unambitiously to the roads andnever take a fence. 

She had a separate stud of hunters, and rode independently of herhusband, who followed the amusement in a less erratic style than hiswife, and in more moderation. 

Cecil often thought of her dream, when Du Meresq was transformed intoFane, and how singularly it had been realized. Certainly adventitiouscircumstances were averse to that first love of hers, for, however muchappearances were against him, the lock of hair which had decided herdestiny was no love token of Du Meresq's. It had been consigned to him bya dying friend, who besought him to write the news to his betrothed, andrestore to her the lock of hair she had given him. 

When Du Meresq had sent this letter off, he found he had omittedenclosing the tress, but they were then just going into action, and hehad placed it inside his tunic. 

After long years Cecil met this girl, who had been faithful to the memoryof her Crimean hero. Once she spoke of him to Mrs. Fane, mentioning thecircumstance of the omission of the lock when Du Meresq's letter hadconveyed to her the fatal news. Little did she think how her companionhad guarded and hated this _souvenir_. Cecil glanced sharply at theother's hair, harsher and more wiry now, and intersected with silverythreads, still it was like enough to satisfy her of the identity withoutthe confirmatory cry of surprise with which the poor woman received itfrom her hands. Had she known this earlier, I think Cecil would haveclung to her ideal, and never married, but by this time Fane and herselfwere--well as happy together as other people. Time's "effacing finger"had prepared the way, and since the birth of her only son, Cecil's heartwas vitalized by a second passion, as strong though different to thefirst. So we may leave her, and see how our other heroine ultimatelyfares before dropping the curtain. 

Dutton went to sea once again, but, as his ship was only cruising in theMediterranean, Bluebell was able to meet him at the different ports theystopped at, and did not at all dislike the changeful variety of the life. However, Lord Bromley found he could not do without her, so, after thatone cruise, Harry retired from the navy, and they lived chiefly at "TheTowers, " where a numerous family was born. 

At last Lord Bromley died at a great age, and it was found that he hadleft Bromley Towers to their eldest boy, Theodore. To the Duttons wasbequeathed a small estate worth three thousand a year. So after all Harrynever inherited "The Towers, " nor Bluebell either. 

THE END