KATE COVENTRY

An Autobiography

Edited by

G. J. WHYTE-MELVILLE

[Illustration: Now began a battle in good earnest. ]

T. Nelson and Sons1909

CONTENTS. 

 Chapter I 3 Chapter II 15 Chapter III 24 Chapter IV 35 Chapter V 46 Chapter VI 58 Chapter VII 66 Chapter VIII 77 Chapter IX 89 Chapter X 103 Chapter XI 114 Chapter XII 125 Chapter XIII 138 Chapter XIV 151 Chapter XV 163 Chapter XVI 175 Chapter XVII 188 Chapter XVIII 201 Chapter XIX 214 Chapter XX 228 Chapter XXI 241 Chapter XXII 254 Chapter XXIII 267 Chapter XXIV 274

KATE COVENTRY. 

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

CHAPTER I. 

"Kate, " said Aunt Deborah to me as we sat with our feet on the fenderone rainy afternoon--or, as we were in London, I should say one rainymorning--in June, "I think altogether, considering the weather andwhat not, it would be as well for you to give up this Ascotexpedition, my dear. "

I own I felt more than half inclined to cry--most girls would havecried--but Aunt Deborah says I am very unlike the generality of women;and so, although I had ordered a peach-coloured mantle, and such abonnet as can only be seen at Ascot on the Cup Day, I kept back mytears, and swallowed that horrid choking feeling in my throat, whilstI replied, with the most careless manner I could assume, "Goodness, aunt, it won't rain for ever: not that I care; but think what adisappointment for John!"

I must here be allowed the privilege of my sex, to enter on a slightlydiscursive explanation as to who Aunt Deborah is and who I am, notforgetting Cousin John, who is good-nature itself, and without whom Icannot do the least bit. My earliest recollections of Aunt Deborah, then, date from a period when I was a curly-headed little thing in awhite frock (not so very long ago, after all); and the first occasionon which I can recollect her personality with any distinctness was ona certain birthday, when poor grandfather said to me in his funny way, "Kate, you romp, we must get you a rocking-horse. "

Aunt Deborah lifted up her hands and eyes in holy horror anddeprecation. "A rocking-horse, Mr. Coventry, " said she; "what aninjudicious selection! (Aunt Deborah likes to round her periods, asthe book-people say. ) The child is a sad tomboy already, and if youare going to teach her to ride, _I_ won't answer for the consequencesin after-life, when the habits of our youth have become the secondnature of our maturity. "

Imagine such sentiments so expressed by a tall austere lady, with highmanly features, piercing dark eyes, a _front_ of jet-black hair cominglow down on a somewhat furrowed brow. Cousin John says all dark womenare inclined to be cross; and I own I think we _blondes_ have the bestof it as far as good temper is concerned. My aunt is not altered inthe slightest degree from what she was then. She dresses invariably ingray silks of the most delicate shades and texture; carries spectacleslow down upon her nose, where they can be of no earthly use except forinspection of the carpet; and wears lavender kid gloves at all hoursof the day and night--for Aunt Deborah is vain of her hand, andpreserves its whiteness as a mark of her birth and parentage. Mostfamilies have a crotchet of some sort on which they plume themselves;some will boast that their scions rejoice one and all in long noses;others esteem the attenuated frames which they bequeath to theirdescendants as the most precious of legacies; one would not part withhis family squint for the finest pair of eyes that ever adorned anAndalusian maiden; another cherishes his hereditary gout as apriceless patent of nobility; and even insanity is prized inproportion to the tenacity with which it clings to a particular race. So the Horsinghams never cease talking of the Horsingham hand; and ifI want to get anything out of Aunt Deborah, I have only to lend her apair of my gloves, and apologize to her for their being so _large_that she can get both her hands into one. 

Now the only thing we ever fall out about is what my aunt calls_propriety_. I had a French governess once who left because I pinnedthe tail of Cousin John's kite to her skirt, and put white mice in herwork-box; and she was always lecturing me about what she called "_lesconvenances_. " Aunt Deborah don't speak much French, though she saysshe understands it perfectly, and she never lets me alone aboutpropriety. When I came home from church that rainy Sunday with ColonelBingham, under his umbrella (a cotton one), Aunt Deborah lectured meon the impropriety of such a thing--though the Colonel is forty if heis a day, and told me repeatedly he was a "safe old gentleman. " Ididn't think him at all dangerous, I'm sure. I rode a race against BobDashwood the other morning, once round the inner ring, down RottenRow, to finish in front of Apsley House, and beat him all to ribbons. Wasn't it fun? And didn't I kick the dirt in his face? He looked likea wall that's been fresh plastered when he pulled up. I don't know whotold Aunt Deborah. It wasn't the coachman, for he said he wouldn't;but she heard of it somehow, and of course she said it was _improper_and unladylike, and even _unfeminine_--as if anything a woman does canbe unfeminine. I know Bob didn't think so, though he got the worst ofit every way. 

To be sure, we women are sadly kept down in this world, whatever weshall be in the next. If they would only let us try, I think we couldbeat the "lords of the creation, " as they call themselves, ateverything they undertake. Dear me, they talk about our weakness andvanity--why, they never know their own minds for two minutes together;and as for vanity, only tell a man you think him good-looking, and hefalls in love with you directly; or if that is too great _abounce_--and indeed very few of them have the slightest pretensions tobeauty--you need only hint that he rides gallantly, or waltzes nicely, or wears neat boots, and it will do quite as well. I recollectperfectly that Cousin Emily made her great marriage--five thousand ayear and the chance of a baronetcy--by telling her partner in aquadrille, quite innocently, that "she should know his figureanywhere. " The man had a hump, and one leg shorter than the other; buthe thought Emily was dying for him, and proposed within a fortnight. Emily is an artless creature--"good, common-sense, " Aunt Deborah callsit--and so she threw over Harry Bloomfield and married the hump andthe legs that didn't match and the chance of the baronetcy forthwith;and now they say he beats her, and I think it serves her right. 

But we women--gracious! if we only take the trouble we can turn thewhole male sex round our little fingers. Who ever saw half a dozen ofus hovering and watching and fussing round a masculine biped, thankfuleven to be _snubbed_ rather than not noticed at all. Who ever saw usfetch and carry like so many retrievers, and "sit up, " so to speak, for a withered rose-bud at the fag end of an over-blown bouquet. Notthat we don't love flowers in their proper places, and _keep_ themtoo, sometimes long after their colour has faded and their perfumegone; but we don't make a parade of such things, and have the grace tobe ashamed of ourselves when we are so foolish. 

But it's quite different with men. They give in to us about everythingif we only insist--and it's our own fault if we don't insist; for, ofcourse, if they find us complying and ready to oblige, why, there's noend to their audacity. "Give 'em an inch, and they take an ell. "However, they do try to keep us down as much as they can. Now there'sthat very exercise of riding that they are so proud of. They get us aside-saddle, as they call it, of enormous weight and inconvenience, onwhich they plant pommels enough to impale three women; they place usin an attitude from which it is next to impossible to control a horseshould he be violent, and in a dress which ensures a horrible accidentshould he fall; added to which, they constantly give us the worstquadruped in the stable; and yet, with all these drawbacks, such isour own innate talent and capacity, we ride many an impetuous steed insafety and comfort that a man would find a dangerous andincontrollable "mount. " For my part, I only wish I had been born aman--that's to say, if I could keep my own ideas and feelings. To besure, I should lose a good many personal adornments; not that I'm vainenough to consider myself a beauty, but still one cannot help beinganxious about one's own appearance, particularly if one has afull-length glass in one's bedroom. I need not be ashamed to own thatI know I've got bright eyes, and good teeth, and a fresh colour, andloads of soft brown hair, and not a bad figure--so my dressmaker tellsme; though I think myself I look best in a riding-habit. Altogetheryou can't call _that_ a perfect fright; but, nevertheless, I think ifI might I would change places with Cousin John. _He_ has no AuntDeborah to be continually preaching _propriety_ to _him_. He can goout when he likes without being questioned, and come in without beingscolded. He can swagger about wherever he chooses without that mostodious of encumbrances called a chaperon; and though I shouldn't careto smoke as many cigars as he does (much as I like the smell of themin the open air), yet I confess it must be delightfully independent tohave a latchkey. 

I often wonder whether other people think Cousin John good-looking. Ihave known him so long that I believe I can hardly be a fair judge. Heis fresh-coloured, to be sure, and square and rather fat, and when hesmiles and shows all his white teeth, he has a very pleasantappearance; but I think I admire a man who looks rather more of a_roué_--not like Colonel Bingham exactly, whose face is all wrinklesand whiskers, but a little care-worn and jaded, as if he wasaccustomed to difficulties, and had other things to occupy histhoughts besides his horses and his dinner. I don't like a man thatstares at you; and I don't like a man that can't look you in the face. He provokes me if he is all smiles, and I've no patience with him ifhe's cross. I'm not sure I know exactly what does please me best, butI _do_ know that I like Cousin John's constant good-humour, and thepains he takes to give me a day's amusement whenever he can, or whathe calls "have Cousin Kate out for a lark. " And this brings me back toAunt Deborah and the expedition to Ascot, a thing of all others Ifancied was so perfectly delightful. 

"My dear, " said Aunt Deborah as she folded her lavender-gloved hands, "if it wasn't for the weather and my rheumatism, I'd accompany youmyself; but I do consider that Ascot is hardly a place for _my_ nieceto be seen at without a chaperon, and with no other protector thanJohn Jones--John Jones, " repeated the old lady reflectively--"anexcellent young man, doubtless (I heard him his Catechism when he was_so_ high), but still hardly equal to so responsible a charge as thatof Miss Coventry. "

I knew this was what John calls a "back-hander" at me, but I can be_so_ good-tempered when I've anything to gain; therefore I onlysaid, --

"Well, aunt, of course you're the best judge, and I don't care theleast about going; only when John calls this afternoon, you mustexplain it all to him, for he's ordered the carriage and the luncheonand everything, and he'll be so disappointed. "

I've long ago found out that if you want to do anything you shouldnever seem too anxious about it. 

Aunt Deborah is fonder of John than she likes to confess. I know why, because I overheard my old nurse tell the housekeeper when I was quitea little thing; and what I hear, especially if I'm not intended tohear it, I never forget. There were three Miss Horsinghams, all withwhite hands--poor mamma, Aunt Deborah, and Aunt Dorcas. Now AuntDeborah wanted to marry old David Jones (John's papa). I can justremember him--a snuffy little man with a brown wig, but perhaps hewasn't always so; and David Jones, who was frightened at AuntDeborah's black eyes, thought he would rather marry Aunt Dorcas. Whythe two sisters didn't toss up for him I can't think; but he _did_marry Aunt Dorcas, and Aunt Deborah has been an old maid ever since. Sometimes even now she fixes her eyes on Cousin John, and then takesthem off with a great sigh. It seems ridiculous in an old lady, but Idon't know that it is so. That's the reason my cousin can do what helikes with Aunt Deborah; and that's the reason why, when he called onthat rainy afternoon, he persuaded her to let me go down to Ascot withhim all alone by our two selves the following day. 

How pleasant it is to wake on the morning of a gala day, to hear thecarts and cabs rumbling and clattering in the streets, and to knowthat you must get up early, and be off directly after breakfast, andwill have the whole livelong day to amuse yourself in. What a brightsunshiny morning it was, and what fun I had going with John in ahansom cab to Paddington--I like a hansom cab, it goes so fast--andthen down to Windsor by the train in a carriage full of such smartpeople, some of whom I knew quite well by name, though not to speakto. The slang aristocracy, as they are called, muster in great forceat Ascot. Nor could anything be more delightful than the drive throughWindsor Forest up to the Course--such a neat phaeton and pair, andJohn and I like a regular Darby and Joan sitting side by side. Somehowthat drive through Windsor Forest made me think of a great many thingsI never think of at other times. Though I was going to the races, andfully prepared for a day of gaiety and amusement, a half-melancholyfeeling stole over me as we rolled along amongst those stately oldtrees, and that lovely scenery, and those picturesque little placesset down in that abode of beauty. I thought how charming it would beto saunter about here in the early summer mornings or the still summernights, and listen to the thrush and the blackbird and the nightingalein the copse; and then I thought I would not care to wander here_quite_ alone, and that a whisper might steal on my ear, sweeter thanthe note of the thrush and the nightingale; and that there might be asomebody without whom all that sylvan beauty would be a blank, butwith whom any place would become a fairyland. And then I fell towondering who that somebody would be; and I looked at Cousin John, andfelt a little cross--which was very ungrateful; and a littledisappointed--which was very unjust. 

"Here we are, Kate: that's the Grand Stand, and we'll have thecarriage right opposite; and the Queen's not come, and we're in heapsof time; and there's Frank Lovell, " exclaimed the unconscious John aswe drove on to the Course, and my daydreams were effectually dispelledby the gay scene which spread itself before my eyes. 

As I took John's arm and walked into the enclosure in front of thestand, I must confess that the first impression on my mind wasthis--"Never in my life have I seen so many well-dressed peoplecollected together before;" and when the Queen drove up the Coursewith her brilliant suite of carriages and outriders, and the mob ofgentlemen and ladies cheered her to the echo, I was such a goose thatI felt as if I could have cried. After a time I got a little morecomposed, and looked about at the different toilettes that surroundedme. I own I saw nothing much neater than my own; and I was pleased tofind it so, as nothing gives one greater confidence in a crowd thanthe consciousness of being well dressed. But what I delighted in morethan all the bonnets and gowns in the universe were those dear horses, with their little darlings of jockeys. If there is one thing I likebetter than another, it is a thoroughbred horse. What a gentleman helooks amongst the rest of his kind! How he walks down the Course, asif he knew his own value--self-confident, but not vain--and goesswinging along in his breathing-gallop as easily and as smoothly as ifI was riding him myself, and he was proud of his burthen! WhenColonist won the Cup, I felt again as if I could have cried. It was anear race, and closely contested the whole way from the distance in. Ifelt my blood creeping quite chill, and I could perfectly understandthen the infatuation men cherish about racing, and why they ruin theirwives and children at that pursuit. What a relief it was when thenumber was up, and I could be quite satisfied that the dear bay horsehad won. As for the little jockey that rode him, I could and _would_have kissed him! Just then Cousin John came back to me, with hissunny, laughing face, and I naturally asked him, "Had he won hismoney?" John never bets; but he replied, "I'm just as pleased as ifI'd won a fortune; only think, Frank Lovell has landed twelvehundred!" "Well, " I replied, "I am glad of it--which is very good ofme, seeing that I don't know Mr. Lovell. " "Don't know Frank Lovell!"exclaimed John. "The greatest friend I have in the world. " (Men'sfriends always are the greatest in the world. ) "I'll introduce him toyou; there he is--no he isn't. I saw him a moment ago. " And forthwithJohn launched into a long biography of his friend Frank Lovell--howthat gentleman was the nicest fellow and the finest rider and the bestshot in the universe; how he knew more about racing than any man ofhis age, and had been in more difficulties, and got out of thembetter, and robbed the public generally with a more plausible air; howhe sang a capital song, and was the pleasantest company, and had morebrains than the world gave him credit for (as indeed might easily bethe case); how he was very good-looking, and very agreeable, and metwith great success (whatever that means) in society; how LadyScapegrace was avowedly in love with him; and he had thrown overpretty Miss Pinnifer because he wouldn't leave the army, and sixmonths afterwards was obliged to sell his commission, when Outsiderwon the "Two Thousand;" together with various other details, whichlasted till it was time to have luncheon, and go back to Windsor tocatch the four o'clock train. Though evidently such a hero of John's, I confess I didn't like what I heard of Frank Lovell at all. 

CHAPTER II. 

We've got such a sweet little house in Lowndes Street--to my mind thevery best situation in London. When I say _we_, of course I mean AuntDeborah and myself. We live together, as I hope we always shall do, asAunt Deborah says, till "one of us is married. " And notwithstandingthe difference of our ages we get on as comfortably as any two forlornmaidens can. Though a perfect fairy palace within, our stronghold isguarded by no giant, griffin, dragon, or dwarf; nothing more frightfulthan a policeman, whose measured tread may be heard at the midnighthour pacing up and down beneath our windows. "It's a great comfort, "says Aunt Deborah, "to know that assistance is close at hand. I am alone woman, Kate, and I confess to feeling nervous when I lie awake. "I quite agree with my aunt, though I'm not nervous, but I must say Ilike the idea of being watched over during the hours of sleep; andthere is something romantic in hearing the regular tramp of thesentinel whilst one is curled up snug in bed. I don't much think italways is the policeman--at least I know that one night when I got upto peep if it was a constable, he was wrapped in a very loose cloak, such as is by no means the uniform of the force, and was besides, unquestionably, smoking a cigar, which I am given to understand is notpermitted by the regulations when on duty. I watched the glowing lightfor at least ten minutes, and when I went to bed again, I could notget to sleep for wondering who the amateur policeman could be. 

But the house is a perfect jewel of its kind. _Such_ a prettydining-room, _such_ a lovely drawing-room, opening into aconservatory, with a fountain and gold-fish, to say nothing of flowers(I am passionately fond of flowers), and _such_ a boudoir of my own, where nobody ever intrudes except my special favourites--Cousin John, for instance, when he is not in disgrace--and which I have fitted upand furnished quite to my own taste. There's the "Amazon" in giltbronze, and a bas-relief from the Elgin marbles--not coloured likethose flaxen-haired abominations at Sydenham, but pure and simple asthe taste that created it; and an etching Landseer did for me himselfof my little Scotch terrier growling; and a veritable original sketchof Horace Vernet--in which nothing is distinguishable save a phantomcharger rearing straight up amongst clouds of smoke. Then I've put upa stand for my riding-whips, and a picture of my own thoroughbredfavourite horse over the chimney-piece; altogether, Aunt Deborahdescribes the apartment exactly when she says to me, as she does aboutonce a week, "My dear, if you were a _man_, I should say your room wasfitted up in the most perfect taste; but as you happen to be a younglady, I won't say what I think, because I know you won't agree withme;" and I certainly do not agree with Aunt Deborah upon a great manysubjects. 

However, there's no situation like Lowndes Street. I'm not going totell the number, nor at which end of the street we live; for it's verydisagreeable to have people riding by and stopping to alter theirstirrup-leathers, and squinting up at one's drawing-room windows whereone sits working in peace, and then cantering off and trotting byagain, as if something had been forgotten. No; if curiosity is so veryanxious to know where I live, let it look in the _Court Guide_; for mypart, I say nothing, except that there are always flowers in thebalcony, and there's no great singularity about that. But there aretwo great advantages connected with a "residence in Belgravia, " whichI wonder are not inserted in the advertisements of all houses to letin that locality. In the first place, a lady may walk about all theforenoon quite alone, without being hampered by a maid or hunted by afootman; and in the second, she is most conveniently situated for amorning ride or walk in the Park; and those are about the twopleasantest things one does in London. 

Well, the same conversation takes place nearly every morning atbreakfast between Aunt Deborah and myself (we breakfast early, neverafter half-past nine, however late we may have been the night before). Aunt Deborah begins, --

"My dear, I hope we shall have a quiet morning together; I've directedthe servants to deny me to all visitors; and if you'll get your work, I will proceed with my readings from excellent Mrs. Hannah More. "

Kate. --"Thank you, aunt; Hannah More amuses me very much"--(I confessthat prim moralist does make me laugh). 

_Aunt Deborah_ (reprovingly). --"Instructive, Kate, not amusing;certainly not ludicrous. If you'll shut the door we'll begin. "

_Kate_. --"Can't we put it off for an hour? I must get my ride, youknow, aunt. What's the use of horses if one don't ride?"

_Aunt Deborah_. --"Kate, you ride too much; I don't object to theafternoons with John Jones, but these morning scampers are reallyquite uncalled for; they're spoiling your figure and complexion; it'simproper--more, it's unfeminine; but as you seem determined upon it, go and get your ride, and come back a little sobered;" andKate--that's me--disappears into the boudoir, from which she emergesin about five minutes with the neatest habit and the nicest hat, andher hair done in two such killing plaits--John Jones says I never lookso well as when I've got my hair dressed for riding. 

I always go out for these morning excursions quite alone. Aunt Deborahfought for a long time, and insisted on my taking the coachman; but heis an old family servant, and I soon knocked him up completely. In thefirst place, the ride is always soft, and I hate going _slow_, so heused to get a dreadful stitch in his side trying to keep up with me onone of the high-actioned coach-horses; then he didn't see the fun ofhaving two horses to clean when he got home instead of one; so when hefound he couldn't get another helper, we begged him off between us, and I go out now unencumbered by that excellent and pursy old man. After all, I ought to be able to take care of myself. I have riddenever since I was five years old; and if habit is second nature, asAunt Deborah says, I'm sure my habit ought to be natural enough to me. I recollect as well as if it was yesterday, when poor papa put me on ashaggy Shetland pony, and telling me not to be frightened, gave it athump, and started me off by myself. I wasn't the least bit afraid, Iknow that. It was a new sensation, and delightful; round and round thefield we went, I shaking my reins with one hand, and holding on agreat flapping straw hat with the other; the pony grunting andsqueaking, with his mane and tail floating on the breeze, and papastanding in the middle, waving his hat and applauding with all hismight. After that I was qualified to ride anything; and by the time Iwas twelve, there wasn't a hunter in the stables that I wouldn't geton at a moment's notice. I am ashamed to confess that I have evencaught the loose cart-horses in a field, and ridden them withoutsaddle or bridle. I never was beat but once, and that was at UncleHorsingham's when I was about fifteen. He had bought a mare atTattersall's for his daughter to ride, and brought her down toDangerfield, thinking she would conduct herself like the rest of herspecies. How well I remember my governess's face when she gave meleave to go to the stable with Sir Harry and look over the newpurchase. I was a great pet of Uncle Horsingham; and as Cousin Ameliawas not much of an equestrian, he proposed that I should get upon thechestnut mare first, and try her paces and temper before his daughtermounted her. As we neared the stables out came one of the grooms witha sidesaddle on his head, and the longest face I ever beheld. 

"O Sir 'Arry, " said he--I quote his exact words--"that new mare's awicious warmint; afore I was well into the stable, she ups and letsout at me just above the knee: I do believe as my thigh's broke. "

"Nonsense, man, " said my uncle; "put the saddle on and bring her out. "Presently the chestnut mare appeared; and I saw at once that she wasnot in the best of humours. But I was young, full of spirits, andfresh from lessons; so, fearing if one of the men should venture tomount her she might show temper, and I should lose my ride, I made asign to the head-groom to give me a hand; and before my uncle had timeto exclaim, "For goodness sake, Kate!" I was seated, muslin dress andall, on the back of the chestnut mare. What she did I never couldquite make out; it seemed to me that she crouched as if she was goingto lie down, and then bounded into the air, with all four legs off theground. I was as near gone as possible; but for the only time in mylife I caught hold of the pommel with my right hand, and that savedme. In another instant she had broke from the groom's hold, and wascareering along the approach like a mad thing. If I had pulled at herthe least she would have run away with me. 

Luckily, the park was roomy, and the old trees far apart; so when wegot upon the grass I knew who would be mistress. I gave her a rousinggood gallop, shook my reins and patted her, to show her how confidentI was, and brought her back to my uncle as quiet as a lamb. Unfortunately, however, the mare had taken a dislike to certain stonepillars which supported the stable gates, and nothing would induce herto pass them. Flushed with success, I borrowed my uncle's riding-whipto punish her; and now began a battle in good earnest. She reared andplunged, and wheeled round and round, and did all she knew to get ridof me; whilst I flogged and jerked, and screamed at her (I didn'tswear, because I didn't know how), and vowed in my wicked little heartI would be killed rather than give in. During the tussle we got nearerand nearer to a certain large pond about a hundred yards from thestable gates, at which the cattle used to water in the quiet summerafternoons. I knew it wasn't very deep, for I had seen them standingin it often. By the time we were close on the brink the wholehousehold had turned out to see "Miss Kate killed;" and just as I hitthe mare a finishing cut over the ears, I caught a glimpse of mygoverness in an attitude of combined shame, horror, and disgust that Ishall never forget. The next moment we were overhead in the pond, themare having dashed blindly in, caught her fore-feet in the bridle, androlled completely over. What a ducking I got to be sure! But it wasnothing to the scolding I had to endure afterwards from all thefemales of the family, including my governess; only Uncle Horsinghamstuck up for me, and from that time till the day of his death vowed hehad "never known but one plucky fellow in the world, and that was hislittle niece Kate. "

No wonder I feel at home on Brilliant, who never did wrong in hislife, who will eat out of my hand, put his foot in my apron-pocket, follow me about like a dog, and is, I am firmly persuaded, the verybest horse in England. He is quite thoroughbred, though he has neverbeen in training--and is as beautiful as he is good. Bright bay, withsuch black legs, and such a silky mane and tail! I know lots of ladieswhose hair is coarser than Brilliant's. Fifteen hands three inches, and Cousin John says well up to his weight--an honest fourteen stone. With the smallest nose, and the leanest head, and the fullest darkeye, and the widest, reddest nostril--his expression of countenance, when a little blown, is the most beautiful I ever beheld; and not awhite mark about him except a tiny star in the very middle of hisforehead; I know it well, for I have kissed it often and often. Thepicture over my chimney-piece does not half do him justice; but then, to be sure, its _pendant_, painted by the same artist, andrepresenting my other horse, White Stockings, flatters that very plainand excellent animal most unblushingly. 

Of all delights in the world give me my morning canter up the park onBrilliant. Away we go, understanding each other perfectly; and I amquite sure that he enjoys as much as I do the bright sunshine and themorning breeze and the gleaming Serpentine, with its solitary swan, and its hungry ducks, and its amphibious dogs continually swimming forthe inciting stick, only rescued to produce fresh exertions; and therosy children taking their morning walk; and, above all, the _liberty_of London before two o'clock in the day, when the real London begins. I pat Brilliant's smooth, hard neck, and he shakes his head, andstrikes an imaginary butterfly with one black fore-leg, and I draw myrein a thought tighter, and away we go, much to the admiration of thatgood-looking man with moustachios who is leaning on his umbrella closeto the rails, and smoking the cigar of meditation as if the park washis own. 

I often wondered who that man was. Morning after morning have I seenhim at the same place, always with an umbrella, and always with acigar. I quite missed him on the Derby day, when of course he was goneto Epsom (by-the-bye, why don't we go to the Derby just as much as toAscot?); and yet it was rather a relief, too, for I had got almost shyabout passing him. It seemed so absurd to see the man every day andnever to speak; besides, I fancied, though of course it could only befancy, that he looked as if he was expecting me. At last I couldn'thelp blushing, and I thought he saw it; for I'm sure he smiled, andthen I was so provoked with myself that I sent Brilliant up the rideat a pace nothing short of a racehorse could have caught. 

CHAPTER III. 

I wonder whether any lady in England has a maid who, to use thatdomestic's own expression, is capable of "giving satisfaction. " If anylady does rejoice in such an Abigail, I shall be too happy to "swap"with her, and give anything else I possess except Brilliant into thebargain. Mine is the greatest goose that ever stood upon two legs, andhow she can chatter as she does with her mouth full of pins is to me aperfect miracle. Once or twice in the week I have to endure a certainordeal which, although a positive pleasure to some women, is to mydisposition intense martyrdom, termed dressing to go out; and I thinkI never hated it more than the night of Lady Horsingham's ball. LadyHorsingham is my poor uncle's widow; and as Aunt Deborah is extremelypunctilious on all matters relating to family connections, weinvariably attend these solemnities with a gravity befitting theoccasion. 

Now, I may be singular in my ideas; but I confess that it does appearto me a strange way of enjoying oneself in the dog-days, to make one'stoilette at eleven p. M. , for the purpose of sitting in a carriage tilltwelve, and struggling on a staircase amongst a mob of one'sfellow-creatures till half-past. After fighting one's way literallystep by step, and gaining a landing by assault, one looks round andtakes breath, and what does one see? Panting girls looking in vain forthe right partner, who is probably not ten yards from them, but wedgedin between substantial dowagers, whom he is cursing in his heart, butfrom whom there is no escape; or perhaps philosophically andperfidiously making the best of his unavoidable situation, andflirting shamefully with the one he likes _next_ best to theimprisoned maiden on the staircase; or, the tables turned, youngfledglings pining madly for their respective enslavers, and picturingto themselves how she may be even now whirling round to that pealingwaltz in the arms of some former adorer or delightfully newacquaintance, little heeding him who is languishing in his whiteneckcloth, actually within speaking distance, but separated aseffectually as if he were in another country. By-the-bye, it's fatalwhen people begin to think of each other as hes and shes; the softestproper name that ever was whispered is not half so dangerous as thosedemonstrative pronouns. In one corner is a stout old gentleman, wedgedagainst the wall, wiping the drops from his bald head, and wonderingwhat Jane and Julia can see in these gatherings to make them wildabout going to every ball for which they can get an invitation. Deluded father! both Jane and Julia have the best of reasons in thisvery house. You grudge not to spend a broiling September day in thepursuit of _your_ game; each of your fair daughters, sir, flattersherself that she, too, has winged her bird. 

Swaying backwards and forwards in the mass, like some goodlymerchantman at anchor, pitching and rolling to a ground-swell, beholdthe chaperon fulfilling her destiny, and skilfully playing that gamewhich to her is the business of life. Flushed and hot in person, sheis cool and composed in mind. Practice makes perfect; and the chaperonis as much at home here as the stockbroker on 'Change, or thebetting-man in the ring, or the fisherman amidst the roar and turmoilof the waves. With lynx eyes she notes how Lady Carmine's eldest girlis "carrying on" with young Thriftless, and how Lord Looby's eyeglassis fixed on her own youngest daughter; yet for all this she is notabsent or preoccupied, but can whisper to stupid Lady Dulwich the verylatest intelligence of a marriage, or listen, all attention, to thefreshest bit of scandal from Mrs. General Gabbler. But perhaps by thistime you have floated with the tide into the doorway, and receivedfrom your hostess the cordial shake of the hand or formal bow whichmakes you free of the place. So, with patience and perseverance youwork your way at last into the dancing-room, and you now see whatpeople come here for--dancing, of course. Each performer has abouteighteen inches of standing room, and on that space must be enacted inhopeless pantomime the intricate evolutions of the quadrille, or therotatory struggles of the waltz. Sliding and smiling, and edging andcrushing, the conscientious dancers try to fulfil their duties, andmuch confusion and begging of pardons are the natural results. 

However, it's a rare place for love-making. What with the music andthe crowd and the confusion, the difficulty is more to make out whatone's partner _does_ say than to prevent his being overheard by otherpeople; but, I must confess, if anybody had anything very particularto say to _me_, I had rather hear it in the quiet country bymoonlight, or even coming home from Greenwich by water--or anywhere, in short, rather than in the turmoil of a London ball. But that's allnonsense; and I hope I have too much pride to allow any man to addressme in such a strain. Trust me for setting him down!

It's no wonder, then, that I was cross when I was dressing for LadyHorsingham's ball; and that silly Gertrude (that's my maid's name, andwhat a name it is for a person in that class of life!) put me more andmore out of patience with her idiotic conversation, which she tries toadapt to my tastes, and of which the following is a specimen:----

"Master John will be at her ladyship's ball, miss, I make no doubt;"brushing away the while at my back hair, and pulling it unnecessarilyhard; no maid ever yet had a "light hand. "

No answer. What business is it of hers, and why should she call him_Master John?_ Gertrude tries again: "You look pale to-night, miss;you that generally has such a colour. I'm afraid you're tired withyour ride. "

"Not a bit of it--only sleepy. Why, it's time one was in bed. "

"Lor, miss, I shouldn't want to go to bed, not if I was going to aball. But I think you like 'orse exercise best; and to be sure, your'orse is a real beauty, Miss Kate. "

The very name of Brilliant always puts me in good humour, so, ofcourse, I can but answer, "_That_ he is, Gertrude, and as good as he'shandsome;" on which my voluble handmaid goes off again at score. 

"That's what I say, miss, when I see him coming round to the door, with his long black tail and his elegant shape and his thin legs. "_Thin legs!_--I can't stand that; to hear my beautiful Brilliant'sgreat strong legs called _thin_, as if he were made of paper. I feel Iam getting savage again, so I cut Gertrude short, and bid her "finishmy hair, " and hasten my dressing, for Aunt Deborah don't take long, and we shall be late for the ball. At the mention of the word "ball, "off goes Gertrude again. 

"What a grand ball it'll be, miss, as all her ladyship's is; and Iknow there'll be no young lady there as will be better dressed than myyoung lady, nor better looking neither; and I'm sure, to see you andMaster John stand up together, as you did last Christmas when we wasall at Dangerfield! and I says to the steward, 'Mr. Musty, ' says I, 'ahandsomer couple than them two I never clapped eyes on. Master John, he looks so fresh, and so healthy and portly, as becomes a gentleman. 'And he says, 'No doubt, ' says he; 'and Miss Kate, she steps away likea real good one, with her merry eyes and her trim waist, as blooming, 'says he, 'as a beanfield, and as saucy as----'"

"There, that will do, Gertrude; now my pocket-handkerchief and somescent, and my gloves and my fan. Good-night, Gertrude. "

"Good-night, miss; I do humbly hope you'll enjoy your ball. "

Enjoy my ball, indeed! How little does the girl know what I enjoy, andwhat I don't enjoy! Lady Horsingham will be as stiff as the poker, andabout as communicative. Cousin Amelia will look at everything I've goton, and say the most disagreeable things she can think of, because shenever can forgive me for being born two years later than herself. Ishall know very few people, and those I do know I shall not like. Ishall have a headache before I have been half an hour in the room. IfI dance I shall be hot, and if I don't dance I shall be bored. Enjoymy ball, indeed! I'd much rather be going hay-making. 

Up went the steps, bang went the door, and ere long we were safelyconsigned to the "string" of carriages bound for the same destinationas ourselves. After much "cutting-in, " and shaving of wheels, andlashing of coach-horses, with not a little blasphemy, "MissHorsingham" and "Miss Coventry" were announced in a stentorian voice, and we were struggling in a mass of silks and satins, blonde andbroadcloth, up the swarming staircase. Everything happened exactly asI had predicted; Lady Horsingham accosted Aunt Deborah with the mostaffectionate cordiality, and lent me two fingers of her left hand, tobe returned without delay. Cousin Amelia looked me well over from headto foot, and asked after my own health and Brilliant's with asupercilious smile. How that girl hates me! And I honestly confess toreturning the feeling with some cordiality. As far as appearance goes, I think without vanity I may say I have the best of it, Cousin Ameliabeing very short and pale, with a "turn-up" nose and long ringlets. Why does a little woman with a turn-up nose always wear her hair inringlets? Is it that she wishes to resemble a King Charles's spaniel?And why are our sex so apt to cherish feelings of animosity towardsthose who are younger and better-looking than themselves? While I askmyself these questions I was suddenly accosted by a lady who had beensome time in conversation with my chaperon, and from whom, I saw byAunt Deborah's countenance, she was anxious to make her escape. Poorold soul! What could she do? A double rank of dowagers hemmed her inin front; on one side of her was her unwelcome acquaintance and thebanisters--on the other, myself and three demure young ladies(sisters), who looked frightened and uncomfortable--whilst her rearwas guarded by a tall cavalry officer with enormous moustachios, heading an impervious column of dandies worse than himself. AuntDeborah was like a needle in a bottle of hay. Taking advantage of herposition, the lady before mentioned seized me by both hands, and vowedshe should have known me anywhere by my likeness to my poor mamma. "Imust make your acquaintance, my dear Miss Coventry--your uncle, SirHarry, was one of my oldest friends. I see you so often in the park, and you ride the nicest horse in London, a bay with a white star. " Ofcourse I bowed an affirmative, and shook my new friend by the handwith a cordiality equal to her own. A conversation begun in sopromising a manner as by a reference to my favourite was sure to go onswimmingly; besides, we could not have got away from each other if wewould; and ere long I found Mrs. Lumley--for that was the lady'sname--a most amusing and satirical personage, with a variety ofanecdotes about all her friends and acquaintances, and a sort offlippant charm of manner that was quite irresistible. 

Besides all this, she was doubtless a very pretty woman--less strikingperhaps than winning. At the first glance you hardly remarked her--atthe second you observed she was very well dressed--at the third itoccurred to you all of a sudden that she was far better-looking thanhalf the regular red-and-white beauties of the season; and after fiveminutes' conversation all the men were over head and ears in love withher. She was neither dark nor fair, neither pale nor ruddy, neithershort nor tall. I never could succeed in making out the colour of hereyes, but she had wonderfully long thick eyelashes with a curl in them(I wish mine had been cut when I was a baby), and a beautifulhealthy-looking skin, and such good teeth. After all, I think hergreat attraction was her nose. It had more expression in its straight, well-cut bridge and little, sharp point than all the rest of herfeatures put together. I believe it was her nose that conqueredeverything, and that her small feet and pretty figure and white hands, and dashing ways and _piquante_ conversation had much less to answerfor than one saucy little feature. How she rattled on: "You don't knowLady Scapegrace, Miss Coventry, do you? There, that bold-looking womanin yellow. Beautiful black hair, hasn't she?--false, every bit of it!She'll bow to me to-night, because she sees me with your good aunt;there, I told you so! Since she and Sir Guy are living together againshe sets up for being respectable--such stories, my dear! but I don'tbelieve half of 'em. However, I've seen her with my own eyes do _theoddest_ things--at best, I'm afraid she's a shocking flirt! There'syour cousin, Mr. Jones--you see I know everybody. How black helooks--he don't like me--a great many people don't--but I return goodfor evil--I like everybody--it's never worth while to be cross;" andas she said so she smiled with such a sunny, merry expression that Iliked her better and better. 

Cousin John certainly did look very cross. "Who introduced you to thathorrid woman, Kate?" said he as soon as a fresh convulsion in thecrowd had stranded us a few steps higher up, and we were separatedfrom Mrs. Lumley and her attractions. 

"My aunt, sir, " I replied demurely, telling a "_white_ one" for thesake of teasing him. "Why? Have you any objections?"

"Oh, of course, if my aunt did, it's all right, " replied he. "I don'tknow a great deal of her, and what I do know I don't much like. But, Kate, there's a friend of mine wishes to be presented to you. You'veoften heard me mention Frank Lovell--well, there he is; do you seehim?--turning round now to speak to Lady Scapegrace. "

Good heavens! it was the man I had seen in the park so often, ifpossible better-looking with his hat off than I had thought him in hismorning costume, with the eternal cigar in his mouth. I have a sort ofdim recollection of his making his bow to my aunt, who received him, as she does all good-looking young men, with a patronizing smile, anda vision of John "doing the polite, " and laughing as he ceremoniouslyintroduced "Captain Lovell" and "Miss Coventry, " and something saidabout "the honour of the next waltz;" and although I am not easilydiscomposed, I confess I felt a little shy and uncomfortable till Ifound myself hanging on Captain Lovell's arm, and elbowing our way toa place amongst the dancers. 

I must say he wasn't the least what I expected--not at all forward, and never alluded to our previous meeting, or to Brilliant, till wewent to have an ice in the tea-room, when Captain Lovell began toenlarge upon the charm of those morning rides, and the fresh air, andthe beautiful scenery of Hyde Park; and though I never told himexactly, he managed to find out that I rode every day at the sameearly hour, "_even_ after a ball!" and that I was as likely to bethere to-morrow as any day in the week; and so we had another turn at"the Colombetta" waltz, and he took me back to my aunt, half-inclinedto be pleased with _him_, and more than half-inclined to be angry with_myself_. I am afraid I couldn't help watching him as he loiteredabout amongst the crowd, now deep in conversation with LadyScapegrace, now laughing with my new friend, Mrs. Lumley. He looked solike a gentleman, even amongst all the high-bred men there; and thoughso handsome, he didn't appear the least conceited. I began to wonderwhether all could be true that I had heard of him, and to think that aman who liked such early walks could not possibly be the _roué_ and"good-for-nothing" they made him out. I was roused out of a brownstudy by Cousin John's voice in my ear, "Now then, Kate, for _our_waltz. The room's a little clearer, so we can go the 'pace' if youlike. " And away we went to "the Odalisque" faster than any othercouple in the room. Somehow it wasn't half such a pretty air as theColombetta, and John, though he has a very good ear, didn't seem towaltz quite so well as usual; perhaps I was getting a little tired. Iknow I wasn't at all sorry when my aunt ordered the carriage; and Ithought the dawn never looked so beautiful as it did when we emergedfrom those hot, lighted rooms into the pure, fragrant summer air. Iconfess I do love the dawn, even in London. I like to see the "gatesof morning" open with that clear, light-green tinge that art has neveryet been able to imitate; and if I could do as I liked, which none ofus can, I should always be up and dressed by sunrise. 

As we drove down Grosvenor Place I saw Captain Lovell walking home, smoking a cigar. I think he caught a glimpse of my face at thecarriage-window, for I am almost sure he bowed, but I shrunk back intothe corner, and pretended to go to sleep; and when we arrived inLowndes Street I was not at all sorry to wish Aunt Deborah good-night, and go upstairs to bed. 

CHAPTER IV. 

"Now then, Kate, late as usual; my phaeton's at the door, and we'veonly an hour and five minutes to do the twelve miles, " said CousinJohn's cheery voice as he accosted me on the following morning, running upstairs to change my dress after my early ride. Yes, notwithstanding the ball the night before, I was not going todisappoint Brilliant of his gallop; besides, these things are allhabit; if you once get accustomed to early hours nothing is so easy asto keep to them. Why, even Captain Lovell was in the park as usualwith his cigar--he seems regular enough about _that_, at allevents--and he took his hat off so gracefully when he spied mecantering up the Ride that I hadn't the heart to pass without stoppingjust to say, "How d'ye do?" but of course I didn't shake hands withhim. 

"Come, Kate, bustle, bustle, " exclaimed that fidget John; and in lesstime than my lady-readers would believe, I had put on my pink bonnetand my white dress, and was bowling down to Richmond by the side of mycousin, behind a roan and a chestnut that stepped away in a style thatit did one good to see. 

"What a clipper that off-horse is, John, " said I as we cleared London, and got to the level road by Kew Gardens; "let me take the reins forfive minutes--they're going so pleasantly. " But John don't like me todrive anything more sporting than a pony-carriage, and he refusedpoint blank, which, to say the least of it, was brutal on his part. IfI hadn't thought it would make me sick, I should have liked to smoke, on purpose to provoke him. We did the distance with three minutes tospare, and as we pulled up in front of the Castle Hotel, I was proudto hear the admiration our _tout ensemble_ elicited from a knot ofidlers lounging round the door. "'Ere's a spicy set-out, Bill, " saidone. "Crickey! vot a pretty gal!" said another. "Vouldn't I like to beVilikins with she for a Dinah!" exclaimed the dirtiest of theconclave; and although I appreciated the compliment, I was forced toturn my back on my unwashed admirer, and reply to the greetings of thepicnic party we had come down to join. 

There was Mrs. Molasses and her two daughters to begin with, people ofunheard-of wealth, of which they seemed to carry a large portion ontheir persons. The mamma, ample, black-eyed, fresh-coloured, andbrocaded, with an extremely natural wig. The eldest daughter, Mary, with whom I had afterwards reason to be better acquainted, pale, languid, very quiet, and low-toned, with fine eyes, and soft darkhair, and what people call an _interesting_ look. She took thesentimental line--was all feeling and poetry, and milk and water, andas easily frightened as she was reassured again. The younger girl, Jane, was the very reverse of her sister--short and dark andenergetic, rather blue, and I thought a little impudent; however, Iliked her the best of the two. Then came Sir Guy and Lady Scapegrace. The Baronet, a stout, square, elderly man, with enormous dyed whiskersand hair to match, combining as much as possible the manners of thecoachman with the morals of the _roué_. A tremendous dandy of theFour-in-hand Club school--high neckcloth, huge pins, gorgeouspatterns, enormous buttons, and a flower in his mouth. His lady ashandsome as a star, though a little hollow-eyed and _passée_. Shelooked like a tragedy queen, with her magnificent figure, and longblack hair, and fierce flashing eyes, and woe-begone expression, andthe black velvet ribbon with its diamond cross, which she always woreround her neck. Ah me! what stories that diamond-cross could tell, ifall be true that we hear of Lady Scapegrace! A girl sold for money, tobecome a rebellious wife to an unfeeling husband. A handsome youngcousin, who cut his own throat in despair--they brought it intemporary insanity, of course. An elopement with a gallant Major tothe south of France, and a duel there, in which the Major was shot, but not by Sir Guy; an English lady of rank travelling on theContinent, independent and alone, breaking banks in all directionswith her luck and hearts with her beauty; a reconciliation, entirelyfor money considerations, which drove another far less erring womaninto a madhouse (but that was Sir Guy's fault); and a darker talestill of a certain potion prepared by her hand, which the Baronet wasprevented from swallowing only by his invariable habit ofcontradicting his wife on all points, and which the lady herself hadthe effrontery to boast "would have settled all accounts. " Not a wordof truth in any of these stories probably; but still, such is thecharacter the world's good nature affixes to that dark handsome womanat whom Cousin John seems so very much alarmed. 

Then there was an elderly Miss Minnows, who was horribly afraid ofcatching cold, but in whose character I could perceive no other verysalient point; and a fair-haired young gentleman, whose name I did notdistinctly catch, and who looked as if he ought to have been atschool, where, indeed, I think he would have been much happier; andsundry regular stereotyped London men and women, well bred and welldressed, and cool and composed, and altogether thoroughly respectableand stupid; and a famous author, who drank a great deal of wine, andnever opened his lips to speak; and I think that was all--no, by-the-bye, there was Captain Lovell, who came very late, and we wentsoberly into Richmond Park, and dined under a tree. 

I do not think I quite like a picnic. It is all very well, like mostother arrangements, if everything goes right; but I sat between Sir GuyScapegrace and the light-haired young gentleman, and although I couldhear lots of fun going on at the other end of the tablecloth, whereCousin John and Mary Molasses and Captain Lovell had got together, Iwas too far off to partake of it, and my _vis-à-vis_, Lady Scapegrace, scowled at me so from under her black eyebrows, though I believeutterly unconsciously, that she made me feel quite nervous. Then it wasnot reassuring to have that odious Sir Guy pressing me to eateverything, and looking right under my bonnet, and asking me to drinkchampagne at least four times; and if I turned to my other neighbour, and ventured to address him on the most commonplace subject, he blushedso painfully that I began to think he was quite as much afraid of me asI was of Sir Guy. Altogether I was rather glad when the things werecleared away and put back into the hampers, and the gentlemen askedleave to light their cigars, and we broke up our circle, and loungedabout and enjoyed ourselves in the shade of those fine trees on thatdry velvet sward. We were rather put to it though for amusement, andhad to propose games of forfeits and other pastimes; and Cousin John, quite unwittingly, got me into a sad scrape by boasting about hishorses. "Not such another pair out of London to-day, " expatiated Johnto the company in general. "We came down in seven minutes under thehour from my aunt's door in Lowndes Street; didn't we, Kate? And neverturned a hair; did we, Kate? Why, they went so smooth Kate couldn'tkeep her hands off the reins; could you, Kate? And there are few betterjudges, let me tell you, than Miss Coventry. " I saw the ladies look atme, and then at each other; and I knew by that indescribable glance, which none but a woman can thoroughly appreciate, how from that momentthey had vowed, one and all, to hate me eternally in their hearts. Theoffence had been committed; the sentence had gone forth. I had beentried for being _fast_, and found guilty _nem. Com. _, from sneeringLady Scapegrace to unmeaning Miss Minnows; each stared at me for abouttwo seconds, and so made up her mind. I cannot think why it is thatthis should be so great a crime in the eyes of my own sex. Next tobeing attractive to the other half of creation--and that I can easilyunderstand is totally unpardonable--there is nothing makes a woman soangry with her sister as high spirits, natural courage, and above all alove for a horse. It is very hard upon us that we should be debarredfrom all out-of-door exercises and amusements by the prejudices ofthose very individuals who ought to back us up in our efforts toenlarge the circle of our amusements. I cannot see why it follows thatbecause I do not mind "weather, " I must, therefore, be utterlyregardless of morality; nor how my knack of breaking in a horse shouldimply an infraction of all the commandments. Are men the only bipedsthat can be at the same time brave and virtuous? Must pluck and pietybe for ever divorced in the female character? Shall I never be able tokeep the straight path in life because I can turn an awkward cornerwith four horses at a trot? Female voices answer volubly in thenegative, and I give in. 

But odious Sir Guy thinks none the worse of me for my coachingpredilections. "Fond of driving, Miss Coventry?" says he, leering atme from over his great choking neckcloth. "Seen _my_ team--three greysand a piebald? If you like going _fast_ I can accommodate you. Proudto take you back on my drag. What? Go on the box. _Drive_, if youlike. Hey!"

I confess for one instant, much as I hated the old reprobate, I shouldhave liked to go, if it was only to make all the women so angry; butjust then I caught Captain Lovell's eye fixed upon me with a strange, earnest expression, and all at once I felt that nothing should induceme to trust myself with Sir Guy. I couldn't help blushing though as Ideclined, more particularly when my would-be charioteer swore heconsidered it "an engagement, hey?--only put off to another time--getthe coach new painted--begad, Miss Coventry's favourite colour!" Andthe old monster grinned in my face till I could have boxed his ears. 

The author by this time was fast asleep, with a handkerchief over hisface, Miss Minnows searching in vain for a fabulous pair of clogs, asshe imagined the dew must be falling--it was about six p. M. , and hotJune weather. Sir Guy was off to the hampers in search of "brandy andsoda, " and the rest of the party lounging about in twos and threes, when Captain Lovell proposed we should stroll down to the river andhave a row in the cool of the evening. Mary Molasses voted it"charming;" Lady Scapegrace was willing to go anywhere away from SirGuy; John, of course, all alive for a lark; and though Mrs. Molassespreferred remaining on dry land, she had no objection to trusting hergirls with us. So we mustered a strong party for embarkation on FatherThames. Our two cavaliers ran forward to get the boat ready, CaptainLovell bounding over the fences and stiles almost as actively asBrilliant could have done; and John, who is no mean proficient at suchexercises, following him; whilst we ladies paced along soberly in therear. 

"Can you row, Miss Coventry?" asked Lady Scapegrace, who seemed tohave taken rather a fancy to me, probably out of contradiction to theother women. "I can. I rowed four miles once on the Lake of Geneva, "she added in her deep, melancholy voice, "and we were caught in one ofthose squalls and nearly lost. If it hadn't been for poor Alphonse, not one of us could have escaped. I wonder if drowning's a painfuldeath, Miss Coventry; the water always looks so inviting. "

"Goodness, Lady Scapegrace!" exclaimed I; "don't take this opportunityof finding out. None of us can swim but John; and if he saves anybody, he's solemnly engaged to save _me_. "

"I quite agree with you, Lady Scapegrace, " said the romantic MissMolasses. "It looks so peaceful, and gives one such an idea of repose. I for one have not the slightest fear of death, or indeed of any merebodily changes----Gracious goodness! the bull! the bull!"

What a rout it was! The courageous young lady who thus gave us thefirst intimation of danger leading the flight with a speed andactivity of which I should have thought her languid frame totallyincapable; Lady Scapegrace making use of her long legs with an utterforgetfulness of her usually grave and tragic demeanour; and the restof the party seeking safety helter-skelter. 

It was indeed a situation of some peril. Our course to the riversidehad led us through a long narrow strip of meadow-land, bounded by highimpervious thorn fences, such as I knew would be _bullfinches_ in thewinter, and which now, in all the luxuriance of summer foliage, presented a mass of thorns and fragrance that no mortal could expectto get through. At either end of the field was a high hog-backedstile, such as ladies usually make considerable difficulties aboutsurmounting, but which are by no means so impossible of transit whenan infuriated bull is bringing up the rear. We were already a quarterof the way across the field, when Miss Mary's exclamation made usaware of our enemy, who had been quietly cropping the grass in acorner behind us, but who now, roused by our gaudy dresses and thepiercing screams of some of our party, was lashing himself into arage, and looking sufficiently mischievous to be a very unpleasantacquaintance. It was impossible to turn round and make for the stilewe had just left, as the bull now occupied a position exactly betweenus and that place of safety; it was hopeless, particularly in ourlight muslin gowns, to attempt the hedge on either side; there wasnothing for it but a fair run to the other end of the meadow, about aquarter of a mile, and _sauve qui peut_ was now the order of the day. 

I will not allow that I am deficient in courage; on the contrary, asCousin John says, "I am rather proud of my pluck;" but there isnothing so contagious as a panic, and I too ran for my very life. Thebull came galloping after us, tossing his head and rolling his greatbody about as if he quite enjoyed the fun; nor do I know how theadventure would have ended, for he must have overtaken some of usbefore we could reach our haven, had not Lady Scapegrace caught herfoot in the long grass, and, falling prostrate, buried her face in herhands, and giving herself up, as she afterwards assured me, to theprospect of a horrible and violent death. I could not leave her insuch a situation. By an impulse for which I cannot account I stoppedshort, turned round, got between the pursuer and his fallen foe, andwith a beating heart and my knees knocking together, faced the greatmischievous brute with no other weapon, offensive or defensive, than alaced pocket handkerchief. I believe he was a well-meaning bull afterall; for instead of crashing in upon me, as I half expected he would, and immolating me on the spot, he too stopped short, stared, bellowed, and began sniffing the grass, and pawing up the turf, and whisking histail about, just as Brilliant does when he is going to lie down. Idon't think he had ever seen a young lady, certainly not a Frenchbonnet before, and he didn't seem to know what to make of thecombination; so there we stood, he and I staring each other out ofcountenance, but without proceeding to any further extremities. I knowI have plenty of courage, for after the first minute I wasn't theleast bit afraid; I felt just as I do when I ride at a large fence--asI get nearer and nearer I feel something rising and rising within methat enables me to face anything; and so when I had confronted thebull for a little time I felt inclined to carry the war into theenemy's country, and advance upon him. But of course all this is veryindelicate and unfeminine; and it would have been far more virtuousand lady-like to have run shrieking away like Miss Molasses, or laiddown and given in at once like poor Lady Scapegrace, who was quiteresigned to being tossed and trampled upon, and only gave vent everynow and then to a stifled moan. 

Well, at last I did advance a few steps, and the bull gave ground inthe same proportion. I began to think I should beat him after all, when to my great relief, I must allow, I heard a voice behind meexclaim, "By Jove, what a plucky girl!" and I thought I heardsomething muttered that sounded very like "darling, " but of coursethat couldn't be meant for me; and Captain Lovell, hot, handsome, andbreathless, made his appearance, and soon drove our enemy into thefarthest corner of the field. As soon as the coast was clear we raisedpoor Lady Scapegrace, who kissed me with tears in her eyes as shethanked me for what she called "saving her life. " I had no idea thewoman had so much feeling. Captain Lovell gave each of us an arm as wewalked on to join our party, and he explained how the screams of MissMolasses had reached him even at the riverside, and how he had turnedand hastened back immediately, "Fortunately in time to be of some use. But I never saw a finer thing done, Miss Coventry; if I live to ahundred I shall never forget it;" and he looked as if he would haveadded, "or you either. "

Many were the exclamations, and much the conversation created by ouradventure. The ladies who had run away so gallantly were of course toomuch agitated for the proposed boating excursion; so after sundryrestoratives at the hotel we ordered the carriages to return to town. Cousin John gave "Frank" (as he calls him) a place in the back seat ofhis phaeton, and he leaned over and talked to me the whole way home. What a pleasant drive it was in the moonlight, and how happy I felt! Iwas really sorry when we got back to London. Frank seemed quiteanxious to make Aunt Deborah's acquaintance; and I thought I shouldn'twonder if he was to call in Lowndes Street very soon. 

CHAPTER V. 

When Aunt Deborah is laid up with one of _her_ colds she always has awonderful accession of "propriety" accompanying the disorder; and thatwhich would appear to her at the worst a harmless _escapade_ when inher usual health and spirits becomes a crime of the blackest dye whenseen through the medium of barley-broth and water-gruel--these beingAunt Deborah's infallible remedies for a catarrh. Now, the cold inquestion had lasted its victim over the Ascot meeting, over our picnicto Richmond, and bade fair to give her employment during the greaterpart of the summer, so obstinate was the enemy when he had oncepossessed himself of the citadel; and under these circumstances Iconfess it appeared to me quite hopeless to ask her permission toaccompany Cousin John on a long-promised expedition to Hampton Races. I did not dare make the request myself; and I own I had greatmisgivings, even when I overheard from my boudoir the all-powerfulJohn preferring his petition, which he did with a sort of abrupt goodhumour peculiarly his own. 

"Going to take Kate out for another lark, aunt, if you have noobjection, " says John, plumping down into an armchair, and forthwithproceeding to entangle Aunt Deborah's knitting into the most hopelessconfusion. "Only some quiet races near town; all amongst ourselves, you know--gentlemen riders, and that sort of thing. "

Aunt Deborah, who is a good deal behindhand in all matters connectedwith the turf, and who has set her face into a determined refusal whenshe hears the word "racing, " rather relaxes at the mention of"_gentlemen_ riders, " and replies gravely, "John, I want to talk toyou about Kate. The girl's wild after horses and hounds and all suchunfeminine pursuits. I wonder you like to see it yourself, my dear. Now, don't you think it would be far better to encourage her indomestic tastes and amusements? I give you my word, she hasn't done abit of worsted-work for a fortnight. "

John's face must have been good at this piece of intelligence; ifthere is one thing he hates more than another it is "cross-stitch. "But he replied with exemplary gravity that "Cousin Kate never wasstrong, you know, aunt, and she is ordered to be a good deal in theopen air, with plenty of horse exercise; and this is delightfulweather for riding. "

"Well, John, " says Aunt Deborah, "of course, if you don't mind it, Ineedn't; you'll be the sufferer, my dear, not I" (I wonder what shemeant by that?); "and I must let her go if you choose to take her, John. How like your father you're growing, my handsome boy!" and AuntDeborah kissed Cousin John on the forehead, with tears in her eyes;and they called to me to get ready, and the horses came round, and inless than ten minutes we were up and away. 

It was very gratifying to overhear the complimentary remarks made uponthe general appearance of White Stockings, whom I had ridden down tosave Brilliant, and who, despite his ugliness, is a veryhunting-looking horse. 

"Looks a game 'un, don't he, squire?" remarked a jolly-looking Surreyfarmer in top-boots to a dilapidated friend in a white neckcloth. "Shouldn't wonder if he couldn't kick the dirt in some of their faces, with that tight lass to keep his head straight. " The friend was amelancholy man, and nodded his silent affirmative with a sigh. Ithink, early as it was, they had both been drinking. 

"Look at that chestnut horse!" exclaimed a good-looking boy of sometwenty summers, who had coached his own drag down, like a secondPhaethon, only as yet with better luck, and was now smoking a hugecigar on its roof. "Isn't he the image of old Paleface? Who's thewoman, eh? Does nobody know her? I'll ask her to come and sit up here. She looks like a lady, too, " he added, checking himself. "Never mind, here goes!" And he was jumping off the coach, to tender me, I presume, his polite invitation in person, when his arm was caught by the mannext him, who was no other than John's friend, Captain Lovell. 

"Charley, stop!" exclaimed Frank, flushing all over his handsome faceand temples. "I know her, I tell you. Have a care; it's MissCoventry. " And in another instant he had bounded to the earth, accosted my _chaperon_ with a hearty "Jack, how goes it?" and was deepin conversation with my humble self, with his hand on my horse'sneck--Frank always wears such good gloves--and his pleasantcountenance beaming with delight at our chance interview. I liked theraces better after this, and should have spent a happier day, perhaps, without the society of Mrs. Lumley, who appeared likewise onhorseback, quite unexpectedly, and was riding the most beautiful brownmare I ever saw in my life. I quite wished I had brought downBrilliant, if only to have met her on more equal terms. As we were theonly two ladies on horseback, of course we were obliged to fraternize(if the weaker sex may use such an expression), as, indeed, we musthave done had we been the bitterest foes on earth, instead of merelyhating each other with common civility. Mrs. Lumley seemed onparticularly good terms with Frank Lovell--I do not know that I likedher any the better for that--and expressed her sentiments and opinionsto the world in general with a vivacity and freedom peculiarly herown. 

"I am out on 'the sly, ' you know, " she observed with an arch smile. "Ihave a good, quiet aunt who lives down at Richmond, and I do penancethere for a time, whenever I have been more than usually wicked; butto-day I could not resist the fine weather and the crowd and the fun, and above all the bad company, which amuses me more than all the restput together, though I do not include you, Miss Coventry, nor yet Mr. Jones, but I am afraid I must Captain Lovell. Come, let's ride amongstthe carriages and see the ninnies. "

So Mrs. Lumley and I plunged into the crowd, leaving Frank to returnto his drag and his betting-book, and Cousin John somewhatdiscontentedly to bring up the rear. 

"After all, I don't see much harm in Hampton, " said my lively guide aswe threaded our way between the carriages, "though, to be sure, thereare some very queer-looking people on the course. I could tell youstrange stories of most of them, Miss Coventry, only you wouldn'tbelieve me. Do you see that old, plainish woman, with such black hairand eyebrows--something like Lady Scapegrace, only not so handsome asmy favourite enemy? Would you believe it, she might marry threecoronets at this moment if she chose, and she won't have any one ofthem. She is not good-looking, you can see; she can scarcely write herown name. She has no conversation, I happen to know, for I met heronce at dinner, and she cannot by any chance put an 'H' into its rightplace. Yet men see something in her that is totally inexplicable tous, and she seems to have a mysterious influence over all ages and allsorts. One of these infatuated noblemen is decrepit and twaddling; theother a stern, reserved man that up to forty years of age was supposedto be the very impersonation of common sense; and the third, young, clever, and handsome, a man that might marry half the nicest women inEngland if he liked. And why, do you think, she won't pick and choosefrom such a trio? Why, forsooth, because she has set her stupid hearton a drunken stockbroker, who won't have a word to say to her, andwould have been here to-day, I have no doubt, if he hadn't been afraidof meeting _her_. Well, there's a stranger story than _that_ about thegirl with long fair hair in the next carriage. You can see her now, ina pink bonnet, drinking sherry and soda water. It is supposed that sheis old Goldfinch's daughter, and that he won't give her a farthing;but I know somebody who knows his lawyer, and that girl _will_ havehalf a million, if she don't drink herself to death before oldGoldfinch takes his departure from this wicked world. She is beautifuland clever and accomplished, and all the young men are in love withher; but she cannot keep sober, and in three years' time she will havelost her youth and her health and her faculties, and in allprobability will finish in a madhouse. There's Frank Lovell makingfierce love to her now. "

And as Mrs. Lumley concluded with this amiable remark, I looked roundfor Cousin John, and rode away from her in disgust at her flippancy, and sick at heart to think of such a man as Captain Lovell wasting hissmiles on such a creature. To be sure, he only said three words toher, for when I looked round again at the carriage he was gone. Thereis something very amusing to me in the bustle of a racecourse; andyet, after talking to Mrs. Lumley, the gloss seemed to be only on thesurface. She had told me enough of the company to make me fancy theremust be some strange history belonging to each. Like the man that sawthrough the roofs of the houses in Madrid, thanks to the agency of hisfamiliar, I thought that my demon on a side-saddle had taught me tosee into the very hearts and secrets of the motley assemblage. 

There was a handsome girl, with beautiful teeth and neatly-braidedhair and such a brilliant smile, attracting a crowd round her as shesang piquant songs in a sweet, deep-toned voice that ought to havemade her fortune on the stage if it had been properly cultivated--sangthem, too, with a look and manner that I have seen seldom rivalled bythe cleverest actresses; and I thought what a face and form werewasted here to make profit for one knave and sport for some fiftyfools. As she accompanied herself on the harp, and touched its stringswith a grace and expression which made amends for a certain want oftuition, I could not help fancying her in a drawing-room, surroundedby admirers, making many a heart ache with her arch smile and winningways. Without being _positively_ beautiful, she had the knack so fewwomen possess of looking charming in every attitude and with everyexpression of countenance; and although her songs were of a somewhatflorid school, yet I could not help thinking that, with those naturalgifts and a plaintive old ballad, English or Scotch, such as "AnnieLaurie" or "The Nut-brown Maid" to bring them out, in a prettydrawing-room, with the assistance of a good dressmaker--dear! shemight marry a duke if she liked. 

And yet all this belonged to a dark, close-shaved ruffian, with silverrings and a yellow handkerchief, who scowled and prowled about her, and looked as if he was likely enough to beat her when they got home. But she hands up an ivory bowl for contributions amongst the youngdandies on the roof of a neighbouring coach, who have been listeningopen-mouthed to the siren, and shillings and half-crowns, and a bit ofgold from the one last out of the Bench, pour into it; and she movesoff, to make way for three French glee-maidens with a monkey and atambourine, and the swells return to their cigars and their betting, and we are all attention for the next event on the card, because it isa gentlemen-riders' race; and the performances will consequently be asdifferent as possible from what we have just seen. 

"We'll secure a good place for this, Kate, " says Cousin John, edginghis horse in as near the judges' stand as he can get. "Frank Lovellhas a mare to run, and I have backed her for a sovereign. "

"Dear, I hope she'll win!" is my ardent rejoinder. 

"Thank you, Kate, " says kind Cousin John, who concludes I take anunusual interest in his speculations; and forthwith we proceed tocriticize the three animals brought to the post, and to agree thatCaptain Lovell's Parachute is far the best-looking of the lot; or, asSir Guy Scapegrace says to the well-pleased owner, "If make and shapego for anything, Frank, she ought to beat them, as far as they cansee. "

Sir Guy is _chaperoning_ a strange-looking party of men and women, whohave been very noisy since luncheon-time. He is attired in aclose-shaved hat (which he had the effrontery to take off to me, but Ilooked the other way), a white coat, and a red neckcloth, the usualflower in his mouth being replaced for the occasion by a large cigar. Captain Lovell hopes "I admire his mare--she has a look of Brilliantfrom here, Miss Coventry. 'Baby Larkins' of the Lancers is to ride;and The Baby will do her justice if any one can. He's far the best ofthe young ones now. "

"Do you mean his name is 'Baby'?" said I, much amused, "or that youcall him so because he is such a child? He looks as if he ought to bewith mamma still. " "We always call him 'Baby' in the Lancers, "explained Frank, "because he joined us so very _young_. He isnineteen, though you would guess him about twelve; but he's got thebrains of a man of sixty and the nerves of a giant. Ah! Parachute, youmay kick, old girl, but you won't get rid of _that_ child!"

And sure enough "The Baby" sat like a rock, with a grim smile, andpreserving throughout a silence and _sang froid_ which nothing seemedable to overcome. Two more seedy-looking animals made up the entry. The lamer one of the two was ridden by a stout major with a redundancyof moustaches, the other by a lanky cornet of Heavy Dragoons, whoseemed not to know where on earth to dispose of his arms and legs, besides finding his cap somewhat in his way, and being muchembarrassed with his whip. They gallop up and down before starting, till I wonder how any galloping can be left for the race; and after afutile attempt or two they get away, The Baby making strong running, the stout Major waiting closely upon his infantine antagonist, whilethe long cornet, looming like a windmill in the distance, brings upthe rear. 

"Parachute still making running, " says John, standing erect in hisstirrups, his honest face beaming with excitement. "Woa, horse!--Standstill, White-Stockings--now they reach the turn, and The Baby takes apull--Gad, old Ganymede's coming up. Well done, Major--no, the oldone's flogging. Parachute wins. Now, Baby!--now Major--the horse!--themare!--Best race I ever saw in my life--a dead heat--Ha! ha! ha!" Thelatter explosion of mirth is due to the procrastinated arrival of thelong cornet, who flogs and works as religiously home as if he had ahundred more behind him, and who reaches the weighing enclosure intime to ascertain with his own eyes that Ganymede has won, the lameplater who rejoices in that classical appellation having struggledhome first by a head, "notwithstanding, " as the sporting papersafterwards expressed themselves, "the judicious riding and beautifulfinish of that promising young jockey, Mr. B. Larkins. " The Babyhimself, however, is unmoved as usual, nodding to Parachute'sdisappointed owner without moving a muscle of his countenance. Hemerely remarks, "Short of work, Frank. Told you so afore I got up, "and putting on a tiny white overcoat like a plaything, disappears, andis seen no more. 

What a confusion there is in getting away! Sir Guy Scapegrace has ayearly bet with young Phaethon, who wanted to invite me on his box, asto which shall get first to Kensington on their way back to town. Youwould suppose Sir Guy was very happy at home by his anxiety to be off. The two drags are soon bumping and rolling and rattling along thesward. The narrow lane through which they must make their way iscompletely blocked up with spring-vans, and tax-carts, and opencarriages, and shut carriages, and broughams, and landaus, and everydescription of vehicle that ever came out of Long Acre; whilst morefour-horse coaches, with fast teams and still faster loads, arethundering in the rear. Slang reigns supreme; and John Gilpin'sfriend, who had a "ready wit, " would here meet with his match. Nor arejest and repartee (what John calls "chaff") the only missiles bandiedabout. Toys, knocked off "the sticks" for the purpose, darken the airas they fly from one vehicle to another, and the broadside from awell-supplied coach is like that of a seventy-four. Fun andgood-humour abound, but confusion gets worse confounded. YoungPhaethon's wheel is locked with a market-gardener's, who isaccompanied by two sisters-in-law and the suitors of those nowisedisconcerted damsels, all more or less intoxicated. Thriftless has hisnear leader in the back-seat of a pony-carriage, and Sir Guy'soff-wheeler is over the pole. John and I agree to make a detour, havea pleasant ride in the country, never mind about dinner, and so getback to London by moonlight. As we reach a quiet, sequestered lane, and inhale the pleasant fragrance of the hawthorn--always sweetesttowards nightfall--we hear a horse's tramp behind us, and are joinedby Frank Lovell, who explains with unnecessary distinctness that "healways makes a practice of _riding back_ from Hampton to avoid thecrowd, and always comes _that_ way. " If so, he must be in the habit oftaking a considerable detour. But he joins our party, and we ride hometogether. 

How beautifully the moon shone upon the river as we crossed Kew Bridgethat calm, silent, summer night! How it flickered through theirbranches and silvered over the old trees, and what a peaceful, lovelylandscape it was! I thought Frank's low, sweet voice quite in keepingwith the time and the scene. As we rode together, John lagging a gooddeal behind (that bay horse of John's never _could_ walk with WhiteStockings), I could not help thinking how much I had misunderstoodCaptain Lovell's character. What a deal of feeling--almost ofromance--there was under that conventional exterior which he worebefore the world! I liked him so much more now I came to know himbetter. I was quite sorry when we had to wish him "good-night" andJohn and I rode thoughtfully home through the quiet streets. I thoughtmy cousin's manner was altered too, though I scarce knew how. Hisfarewell sounded more constrained, more polite than usual, when heleft me at Aunt Deborah's door. And whilst I was undressing Ireflected on all the proceedings of the day, and tried to rememberwhat I had done that could possibly have displeased good-natured John. The more I went over it, backwards and forwards, the less could I makeof it. "Can it be possible, " I thought at last; "can it be possiblethat Cousin John----" And here I popped out my candle and jumped intobed. 

CHAPTER VI. 

I really had not courage to take my usual canter the morning afterHampton Races. I did not feel as if I could face the umbrella and thecigar at the rails in "the Ride, " and yet I rang the bell once for mymaid to help me on with my habit, and had my hand on it more than onceto order my horse; but I thought better of it. Poor Aunt Deborah'scold was still bad, though she was downstairs; so I determined to takecare of her, in common gratitude, and give her the advantage of myagreeable society. I am very fond of Aunt Deborah in my own way, and Iknow there is nothing she likes so much as a "quiet morning withKate. "

The hours passed off rather slowly till luncheon-time. I did forty-twostitches of worsted-work--I never do more than fifty at a time, unlessit's "grounding"--and I got off Hannah More because Aunt Deborah wastoo hoarse to read to _me_, and I really cannot read that excellentwork to _her_ without laughing; but I thought luncheon never would beready, and when it did come I couldn't eat any. However, I wentupstairs afterwards, and smoothed my hair and set my collar straight, and was glad to hear Aunt Deborah give her usual order that she was"at home" with her usual solemnity. I had not been ten minutes in thedrawing-room before a knock at the door brought my heart into mymouth, and our tragic footman announced "Captain Lovell" in his mosttragic voice. In marched Frank, who had never set eyes on my aunt inhis life, and shook hands with _me_, and made _her_ a very low bow, with a degree of effrontery that nothing but a _man_ could ever havebeen capable of assuming. Aunt Deborah drew herself up--and she reallyis very formidable when she gets on her _high horse_--and looked firstat me, and then at Frank, and then at me again; and I blushed like afool, and hesitated, and introduced "Captain Lovell" to "My aunt, MissHorsingham!" and I didn't the least know what to do next, and had agreat mind to make a bolt for it and run upstairs. But our visitorseemed to have no misgivings whatever, and smoothed his hat and talkedabout the weather as if he had known us all from childhood. I haveoften remarked that if you only deprive a man of the free use of hishands there is no difficulty which he is unable to face. Give himsomething to handle and keep fidgeting at, and he seems immediately tobe in his element, never mind what it is--a paper-knife and a book toopen, or a flower to pull in pieces, or a pair of scissors and a bitof thread to snip, or even the end of a stick to suck--and he drawsinspiration, and what is more to the purpose, _conversation_, from anyand all of these sources. 

But let him have his hands entirely to himself, give him nothing to"lay hold of, " and he is completely dumbfoundered on the spot. Herewas Frank brushing and smoothing away at his hat till it shone likeblack satin, and facing my aunt with a gallantry and steadiness beyondall praise; but I believe if I could have snatched it away from himand hid it under the sofa, he would have been routed at once, and musthave fled in utter bewilderment and dismay. After my aunt had repliedcourteously enough to a few commonplace observations, she gave one ofher ominous coughs, and I trembled for the result. 

"Captain _Beville_, " said my aunt. "I think I once knew a family ofyour name in Hampshire--the New Forest, if I remember rightly. "

"Excuse me, " said Frank, nowise disconcerted, and with a sly glance atme, "my name is Lovell. "

"Oh, " replied my aunt, with a considerable assumption of stateliness, "then--ahem!--Captain _Greville_, I don't think I have ever had thepleasure of meeting you before. "

And my aunt looked as if she didn't care whether she ever met himagain. This would have been a "poser" to most people; but Frankapplied himself diligently to his hat, and opened the trenches in hisown way. 

"The fact is, Miss Horsingham, " said he, "that I have taken advantageof my intimacy with your nephew to call upon you without a previousintroduction, in hopes of ascertaining what has become of an oldbrother officer of mine, a namesake of yours, and consequently, Ishould conclude, a relative. There is, I believe, only one family inEngland of your name. Excuse me, Miss Horsingham, for so personal aremark, but I am convinced he must have been a near connection from apeculiarity which every one who knows anything about our old Englishfamilies is aware belongs to yours: my poor friend Charlie had abeautiful 'hand. ' _You_, madame, I perceive, own the same advantage;therefore I am convinced you must be a near connection of my oldcomrade. You may think me impertinent, but there is no mistaking 'theHorsingham hand. '"

Aunt Deborah gave in at once. 

"I cannot call to mind at this moment any relative of mine who islikely to have served with you" (nor was this to be wondered at, thewarrior _aux blanches mains_ being a fabulous creation of wickedFrank); "but I have no doubt, Captain Lovell, that you are correct. Ihave great pleasure in making your acquaintance, particularly as youseem well acquainted with our belongings. Do you stay any length oftime in town?"

"I seldom remain till the end of the season; but this year I think Ishall. By the way, Miss Horsingham, I saw a curious old picture theother day in the West of England, purporting to be a portrait of thecelebrated 'Ysonde of Brittany, with the White Hand, ' in which Itraced a strong resemblance to some of the Horsinghams, with whom I amacquainted. Yours is, I believe, an old Norman family; and as I am abit of an antiquary" (O Frank, Frank!), "I consulted my friend Sir J. Burke on the subject, who assures me that the 'Le Montants'--Godfreyle Montant, if you remember, distinguished himself highly in thesecond crusade--that the Le Montants claimed direct descent from theold Dukes of Brittany, and consequently from the very lady of whom weare speaking. Roger le Montant came over with the Conqueror, andalthough strangely omitted from the Roll of Battle Abbey, doubtlessreceived large grants of land in Hampshire from William; and twogenerations later we can trace his descendant, Hugo, in the samelocality, under the Anglicized name of Horsengem, now corrupted toHorsingham, of which illustrious family you are, of course, awareyours is a younger branch. It is curious that the distinguishing markof the race should have been preserved in all its shapely beauty, "added Frank, with the gravest face possible, and glancing at thelavender kids, "through so many changes and so many successivegenerations. "

Aunt Deborah was delighted. "Such a clever young man, my dear!" shesaid to me afterwards. "Such manners! such a voice! _quite_ one of theold school--evidently well-bred, and with that respect for good bloodwhich in these days, I regret to say, is fast becoming obsolete. Kate, I like him vastly!"

In the meantime she entered freely into conversation with our visitor;and before he went away--by which time his hat looked as if it hadbeen ironed--"she hoped he would call again; she was always at hometill two o'clock, and trusted to have the pleasure of his company atdinner as soon as she was well enough to get anybody to meet him. "

So Frank went off to ride in the Park on the neatest possible brownhack; for I saw him quite plainly trot round the corner as I went intothe balcony to water my poor geraniums. 

Well, I waited and waited, and John never came for me, as was hisusual habit; and I began to think I must lose my ride, for I am notallowed to go by myself in the afternoons; and at last I was obligedto coax Aunt Deborah to take me out in the open carriage, for it was abeautiful day, and it would be just the thing for her cold. So we wentdowagering about, and shopped in Bond Street, and looked at some lacein Regent Street, and left cards for Lady Horsingham, as in dutybound, after helping her to "make a good ball;" and then we went intothe Ring, and I looked and looked everywhere, but I could not seeanything like Frank or his brown hack. To be sure the Ride was ascrowded as a fair. But I _did_ see Cousin John, and I _must_ say itwas too bad of him to keep me waiting and watching all the afternoon, and then never to take the trouble of sending a note or a message, butto start off by himself and escort Miss Molasses, as if he was herbrother _at least_, if not a nearer relation. Miss Molasses, forsooth, with her lackadaisical ways and her sentimental nonsense; and thatgoose John taking it all in open-mouthed, as if she was an angel uponearth. Well, at all events she don't _ride_ like me. Such a figure _I_never saw on a horse!--all on one side, like the handle of a teapot, bumping when she trots and wobbling when she canters, with braidingall over her habit, and a _white_ feather in her hat, and gauntletgloves (_of course_ one may wear gauntlet gloves for hunting, but_that's_ not London), and her sallow face. People call herinteresting, but _I_ call her _bilious_. And a wretched long-leggedRosinante, with _round_ reins and tassels, and a netting over itsears, and a head like a fiddle-case, and no more action than acamp-stool. Such a couple I never beheld. I wonder John wasn't ashamedto be seen with her, instead of leaning his hand upon her horse'sneck, and looking up in her face with his broad, honest smile, andtaking no more notice of her sister Jane, who is a clever girl, withsomething in her, than if she had been the groom. I was provoked withhim beyond all patience. Had it been Mrs. Lumley, for instance, Icould have understood it; for she certainly is a chatty, amusingwoman, though dreadfully _bold_, and it is a pleasure to see hercanter up the Park in her close-fitting habit and her neat hat, withher beautiful round figure swaying gracefully to every motion of herhorse, yet so imperceptibly that you could fancy she might balance aglassful of water on her head without spilling a drop. To say nothingof the brown mare, the only animal in London I covet, who is herself apicture. Such action! such a mouth! and such a shape! I coaxed AuntDeborah to wait near Apsley House, on purpose that we might see herbefore we left the Park. And sure enough we did see her, as usualsurrounded by a swarm of admirers; and next to her--positively next toher--Frank Lovell, on the very brown hack that had been standing anhour at our door. He saw me too, and took his hat off; and she saidsomething to him, and they both laughed!

I asked Aunt Deborah to go home, for it was getting late, and theevening air was not very good for her poor cold. I did not feel wellmyself somehow; and when dear aunty told me I looked pale, I wasforced to confess to a slight headache. I am not subject to lowspirits generally--I have no patience with a woman that is--but ofcourse one is sometimes a "little out of sorts;" and I confess I didnot feel quite up to the mark that evening, I cannot tell why. If Johnflatters himself it was because he behaved so brutally indisappointing me, he is very much mistaken; and as for Captain Lovell, I am sure he may ride with anybody he likes for what I care. I wonder, with all his cleverness, he can't see how that woman is only laughingat him. However, it's no business of mine. So I went into my boudoir, drank some tea, and then locked myself in and had a "good cry. "

CHAPTER VII. 

It is wonderful how soon the London season comes to an end; and, infact, it is difficult to say when its tide is really at the flood. Single men--and they are necessary ingredients for gaiety whereverthere are young ladies--single men seldom go to town much before theDerby. Then comes Ascot, for which meeting they leave the metropolis, and enjoy some quiet retreat in the neighbourhood of Windsor, takingwith them many potables and what _they_ call a "dog cook. " After Ascotpeople begin to think about going away, and before you know where youare three more weeks have elapsed, and it is July. Dear, what ascatter there is then!--some off to Norway, some to Cowes, some toCaithness, and some to Galway. Those that remain for Goodwood are sureto go to Newmarket; and the man who sticks religiously to thepavement, and resists the allurements of all the above-mentionedresorts, only does so because he is meditating a trip to California, Kamtschatka, or the Rocky Mountains, and is so preoccupied withportable soup, patent saddle-bags, bowie-knives, and revolvers that hemight just as well be at his ultimate destination in person for allthe benefit one gets from his society. I confess I don't like the endof the season. You keep on trying to be gay, whilst your friends aredropping off and disappearing one by one. Like the survivor in somehorrid pestilence, you know your time must come too; but you shut youreyes to the certainty, and greet every fresh departure with a gaietymore forced and a smile more and more hopeless. 

Well, _my_ London season too was drawing to its close, and I confess Ihad enjoyed it very much. What with my morning gallops and afternoonsaunters (for John had returned to his allegiance, and came to take meout regularly, although he always joined Miss Molasses' party when hegot into the Park); what with Aunt Deborah's tiresome cold, whichobliged me to go about a good deal by myself, and the agreeablesociety of Frank Lovell, who never missed an opportunity of being withus, I had been very happy, and I was quite sorry to think it was allso soon to come to an end. John was already talking of a fishingexcursion to Norway, and actually proposed that I should accompanyhim; an arrangement which Aunt Deborah declared "was totallyimpracticable, " and which I confess I do not myself think would havebeen a very good plan. I had made several pleasant acquaintances, amongst whom I may number Lady Scapegrace--that much-maligned damehaving taken a great fancy to me ever after the affair of the bull, and proving, when I came to know her better, a very different personfrom what the world gave her credit for being. With all herfaults--the chief of which were an uncontrollable temper and much toostrong feelings for the nineteenth century--she had a warm, affectionate heart, and was altogether an energetic, straightforwardwoman, very much in earnest, whether for good or evil. But there wasone thing that vexed me considerably amongst all my regrets for pastpleasures and castles in the air for the future, and this was theconduct of Captain Lovell. What did he mean? I couldn't make him outat all. One day calling on my aunt at eleven in the morning, andstaying to luncheon, and making himself so agreeable to _her_, andbringing bouquets of the loveliest flowers (which I know came fromHarding's or else direct from Covent Garden) to _me_; and then goingaway as if he had fifty more things to say, and lingering over hisfarewell as if he was on the eve of departure for China instead ofMayfair, and joining me again in the Park, and asking me if I wasgoing to the Opera, and finding out all my engagements and intentions, as if he couldn't possibly live five minutes out of my sight; andthen, perhaps, never coming near us for days together, till even myaunt "wondered what had become of that pleasant Captain Lovell;" andwhen he met me in the Park, taking off his hat with a civil bow, as ifhe had only been introduced the night before. All this I couldn't makeout, and I didn't half like, as I told Lady Scapegrace one hotmorning, sitting with her in her boudoir. I was a good deal at LadyScapegrace's now, and the more so because that was the place of allothers at which I was least likely to meet Sir Guy. "Men are souncertain, my dear, " said her ladyship, sitting in a morningdeshabille, with her long black hair combed straight out over hershoulders and reaching nearly to her knees. "If you ask me candidlywhether he _means_ anything, I tell you I think Frank Lovell ashocking flirt. " "_Flirt!_" I replied, half crying with vexation. "It's time enough for him to _flirt_ with me when I give him anyencouragement. But I don't, Lady Scapegrace, and I never will. I hopeI'm too proud for that. Only when a man is always in _one's pocket_wherever one goes; when he sends one bouquets, and rides out in therain to get one's bracelet mended, and watches one from a corner ofthe room if one happens to be dancing with anybody else, and lookspleased when one is dull and cross when one laughs--why, he eitherdoes prefer, or ought to prefer, one's society to that of MissMolasses and Mrs. Lumley, and that is why I tell you I can't quitemake out Captain Lovell. "

"Don't talk of that odious woman, " exclaimed Lady Scapegrace, betweenwhom and Mrs. Lumley there was a polite feud of some years' standing. "She is ready and willing to jump down Frank Lovell's throat, or anyone else's for the matter of that, so bold as she is, and so utterlyregardless--such stories, my dear. But take my advice, Kate: play thatcheerful cousin of yours against Master Frank. I never knew it failyet if you only go the right way to work. Men are not only very vain, but very jealous. Don't let him think you are going _to marry_ yourcousin, or he may consider it a capital arrangement and a sort ofmatter-of-course affair, which is all in his favour. Men like Frankalways prefer other people's property, and I have no doubt he would beover head and ears in love with you if you were not single. So don'tbe going to marry Mr. Jones, but just appeal to him about everyearthly thing you do or say, look after him when he leaves the room, as if you couldn't bear him out of your sight. Get Frank to abuse himif you can, and then fight his battles fiercely; and directly thelatter thinks there is a rival in the field he will be down on hisknees, you mark my words, in two days' time at the furthest. I think Iought to know what men are, my dear" (and to do Lady Scapegracejustice, she had studied that variety of the creation to some purpose, or she was much maligned). "I know that they can't, any of them, seethree yards before their noses, and that you can turn and twist themwhich way you will if you only go upon this principle--that they arefull of vanity and self-conceit, and totally deficient in brains. "

"But I'm sure Captain Lovell's a clever man, " said I, not disposed tocome to quite such sweeping conclusions as those of my monitress;"and--and--I don't mean to say that I _care_ about him, LadyScapegrace, but still it mightn't answer with _him_, and--and--Ishouldn't like to lose him altogether. "

"Pooh! Lose him! Fiddlestick!" rejoined her ladyship. "You'll see. Heis to join our party at Greenwich this afternoon. By the way, when SirGuy heard you were coming, he proposed to drive us all down on thathorrid coach. But I told him we should be taken for the people that_usually_ occupy it, and nothing should induce me to go; so that planwas given up. But you and I will go down in the barouche, and I'llcall for you, and we'll take Mr. Jones with us. And mind you're verycivil to him, and only notice the other in a quiet, good-humouredway--for he mustn't think you do it out of pique--and before thewhitebait is on the table you'll see he'll be a different man. But nowyou must go--there's a dear. I'll call for you at five. It's too badto turn you out; but I'm never at home to any one between three andhalf-past four. Good-bye, dear, good-bye. "

And Lady Scapegrace kissed me most affectionately, and promised tocall for me punctually at five, till which hour I cannot make out whyher time was always engaged. 

As I tripped downstairs, hoping to make my escape without beingattended by the whole establishment to open the house-door, whomshould I come across but odious Sir Guy, in a sort of scarlet fancydress, which I concluded was his morning "demi-toilette. " He actuallyhad the effrontery to propose that I should accompany him to thestable, and that he should then "show me _his_ boudoir--hey? You looklike a rose this morning, Miss Coventry. Should like to transplantyou. What?" And whilst he stood dodging and grinning on the stairs, Imanaged to slip by him and get safe into the street. I wonder _when_men think they are beginning to grow old! I am sure Sir Guy fancies heis still in the flower of his youth, and so charming that nobody canresist him. 

What a pleasant day we had! Only we four--Lady Scapegrace, CousinJohn, Captain Lovell, and I. We went down in Lady Scapegrace'sbarouche, and walked in Greenwich Park, and adjourned to a nice roomwith a bay window, and such a lookout over the river, blushing rosecolour in the evening sun. And the whitebait was so good, and thechampagne-cup so nice; and we were all in such spirits, and Frank wasso kind and attentive and agreeable I couldn't find it in my heart tobe cross to him. So it ended in our making up any little imaginarydifferences we may have had and becoming better friends than ever. Aswe sat in the balcony over the river--the two gentlemen smoking theirafter-dinner cigars, and we ladies sipping our coffee--I thought I hadnever enjoyed an evening so much; and even John, who was generallydreadfully afraid of Lady Scapegrace, became quite lively and gallant(for him), and they laughed and talked and joked about all sorts ofthings; while Frank leant over my shoulder and conversed more gravelythan was his habit; and I listened, and thought him pleasanter eventhan usual. By the way, that lilac bonnet never quite lost the odourof tobacco afterwards. 

"How quick the time passes!" said Frank, with almost a sigh. "Can't we_do_ anything to put off horrid London and home and bed? Let's all goto Vauxhall. "

"What do _you_ say, Mr. Jones?" inquired Lady Scapegrace, who wasalways ready for a lark; "you're our _chaperon_, you know. Do youthink you can be responsible?"

"Oh yes, John!" I exclaimed. "You promised to take me once before theend of the season. We shall never have such another chance. "

"This is a capital night to go, " remarked Frank, "because there is anew riding-woman; and you can take a lesson, Miss Coventry, in caseyou should wish to perform in public. " Cousin John could not possiblyhold out against all three; and although I think in his heart he didnot entirely approve, the carriage was ordered, the bill paid, and wewere rolling along through the cool summer night _en route_ forVauxhall. 

"My dear, " said Lady Scapegrace to me as we sidled through theentrance of that place of amusement, and the gentlemen remained behindto pay, "you are doing anything but what I told you; scarcely threewords have you spoken to your cousin, who, by the way, is verypleasant. _I_ think I shall _take him up_ and improve him on my ownaccount; but as for you, my dear, I can see plainly it's all over withyou. "

"And you _really_ leave town to-morrow?" said Frank as we walked armin arm up one of those shaded alleys which lead to the "Hermit, " orthe "Gipsy, " or some other excuse for a _tête-à-tête_ not too muchunder the lamps. By the way, why is it that a party never can keeptogether at Vauxhall? Lady Scapegrace and I had particularlystipulated that we were not to separate under any circumstances. "Whatever happens, do let us keep together, " we mutually implored atleast ten times during the first five minutes, and yet no sooner didwe pair off arm in arm than the distance began gradually to increase, till we found ourselves in "couples, " totally independent of eachother's proceedings. In this manner we saw the horsemanship, and theacrobats, and the man with the globe, and all the other eccentricitiesof the circus. I really think I could have ridden quite as nicely asMadame Rose d'Amour had I been mounted on an equally well-brokenanimal with the one which curvetted and caracoled under thatmuch-rouged and widely-smiling dame. They do look pretty too at alittle distance those histrionic horsewomen, with their trappings andtheir spangles and their costume of Francis I. I often wonder whetherpeople really rode out hawking, got up so entirely regardless ofexpense, in the days of the Field of the Cloth of Gold. From thehorsemanship we went to see the people dance, which they did with adegree of vigour and hilarity such as might be introduced in amodified form with great advantage into good society; and here we cameacross Cousin John and Lady Scapegrace just in time to witness a shortand abrupt interview between the latter and Sir Guy. Yes, there wasSir Guy, with the flower in his mouth and all, dancing, actually_dancing_--and he can't be much less than sixty--with a little smartlady, wearing the most brilliant colour and the blackest eyelashes andthe reddest lips and the lightest eyes I ever saw upon a human being. The little lady, whose hair, moreover, was dressed _à l'Impératrice_, thereby imparting additional boldness to a countenance not remarkablefor modesty, frisked and whisked round Sir Guy with a vivacity thatmust have been of Parisian growth; whilst the Baronet labouredponderously along with true British determination, like a man whohabitually wears very thick shoes and is used to take his own time. Inthe course of his evolutions he brought his foot down heavily on theskirt of a lady's dress, and turning round to apologize found himselfface to face with his wife! To do him justice he was not the leasttaken aback--anger rather than confusion seemed to be his dominantfeeling; and although he tried to smother a rising oath in a laugh, orrather a grin, it was such a muscular contraction of the mouth as doesnot give me the idea of a smile. 

"Come out for a lark too, my lady, hey?" said the Baronet, studiouslyinterposing his large person between "my lady" and his partner. "Reminds one of Paris; dance with anybody, whether one knows them ornot. " And Sir Guy tried to look as if he was telling the truth withindifferent success. But Lady Scapegrace's face was a perfect study; Inever saw a countenance so expressive of scorn--intense scorn--andyet, as it seemed to me, not so much of him as of herself. 

"I am glad you amuse yourself, Sir Guy, " she said very quietly; buther lip was as white as ashes while she spoke. "I should think thisplace must suit you exactly. Mr. Jones, we shall be late for thefireworks. " And she swept on, taking no further notice of thediscomfited Sir Guy, whilst Frank and I followed in her wake, feelingrather awkward even at witnessing this ill-timed _rencontre_. 

"And so you leave town to-morrow, Miss Coventry?" said Frank; and Ithought his voice shook a little whilst he spoke. "I shall ride downLowndes Street every day, and think how deserted it looks. No morewalks in the morning for _me_, no more pleasant rides in theafternoons; I shall send my hacks home and sulk by myself, for I shallbe miserable when my friends are gone. Do you know, Miss Coventry"--Ilistened, all attention; how could I tell what he might _not_ be goingto say?--"do you know that I have never had courage to ask yousomething till to-night?" (Goodness! I thought, _now_ it's coming, andmy heart beat as it does when I'm going out hunting. ) "I want you togive me" (a lock of my hair, thinks I. Well, I don't know; perhaps Imay)--"I want you to give me--Miss Horsingham's receipt for makingbarley-water; but I know it's a long business to write out, and I'mafraid of being troublesome. " So that was all, was it? I felt halfinclined to laugh, and more than half inclined to cry; but turninground I was somewhat consoled to find Lady Scapegrace and her cavalierclose behind us; and I do confess I rather attributed Frank'sextremely moderate request to their immediate vicinity; there was noopportunity, however, of renewing the subject. John had said all he_had_ to say to his companion. John soon gets high and dry with thesesmart ladies, and they seem mutually tired of each other; so we gotthe carriage and took our departure, Frank pressing my hand as he bademe farewell, and whispering, "_Au revoir_, Miss Coventry; somethingtells me it won't be very long before we meet again. " What _could_ hemean?

CHAPTER VIII. 

It was a melancholy work to glide out of London by the last train, andto think that one's gaieties were over for that summer, and that therewas nothing to look forward to till the hunting season but Dangerfieldand Lady Horsingham, and the wearisome monotony of a regularcountry-house life. Aunt Deborah and I settled ourselves comfortablyin a roomy first-class carriage, she with her knitting and I with thelast _Punch_--in which, by the way, was the portrait of a dandy, thevery image of Frank Lovell--and prepared for our journey, as ladiesgenerally do, by arranging multifarious outworks of smelling-bottles, shawls, reticules, parasols, etc. , without which paraphernalia nowell-bred woman can possibly travel a hundred yards. I confess Idreaded the trip. I was too well aware by experience that a railwayalways makes Aunt Deborah rather cross and me very sleepy; so I knewwhat was coming, and I was not disappointed. Before we had fairly leftthe outskirts of London I saw by the way in which my aunt laid downher knitting and the ominous cough or two in which she indulged that Iwas in for a lecture; and sure enough, just as we emerged on the openfields and began to smell the fresh country air, it began. 

"Kate, " said my aunt, "as we are going to a very regular andwell-conducted establishment, I think it is a good opportunity for meto say a few words to you as regards your past conduct. "

"Good gracious, aunt!" I replied, quite frightened, "what have Idone?"

"My dear, " said my aunt, "I have seen a great deal going on latelythat I have taken no notice of; but it don't follow that I shouldapprove of it any more than John. "

"And what has John got to do with it, I should like to know?" Irejoined, firing up on the instant, for such a chance of carrying thewar into the enemy's country was not to be neglected. "John, indeed!I'm sure, aunt, John encourages me in all my _unfeminine_ pursuits, asyou call them; and if he has been telling tales or setting you againstme, I'll soon let him know what I think of such conduct. I'll soontell him that I'm not going to be accountable to him; indeed, that I'mnot going to----"

"Hush, my dear, " said Aunt Deborah; "there is no occasion for all thisanimosity against John. After all, it is very natural, poor fellow, that he should feel aggrieved and annoyed. There's that CaptainLovell: I don't mean to say that he's not an agreeable, well-informedyoung man, but there he is coming to see you at all hours, riding withyou in the Park, whispering to you at the Opera, bringing you newmusic and _old_ china and fresh flowers, and conducting himselfaltogether as if he was either your accepted suitor or mine--and Idon't think the latter very likely, Kate--whereas, you know, John----"My aunt stopped short. The ringing of the bell and loud exclamationsof "Trotter's Heath! Trotter's Heath! All out for Sheepshanks, Fleecyfold, and Market Muddlebury!" announced that we had arrived atthe Muddlebury Junction; and the opportune entrance into the carriageof a stranger, who seemed extremely anxious concerning the safety of abrace of pointers that accompanied him, effectually prevented my auntfrom proceeding with her discourse; while the dead silence whichfollowed the renewed puffing of the engine, and the vibration of thetrain, gave me an opportunity of studying attentively the person andfeatures of our new fellow-traveller. 

I don't think I ever saw a man so freckled in my life. Even the backsof his hands (for he wore no gloves--I should think didn't even know_his number_!) were studded with spots till you could have hardly puta pin's point on a place free from this horrid disfigurement. Hisface, too, was like a plum-pudding on which the fruit had beenshowered with a most liberal hand; but the features were good, and hadit not been for his red hair, a little grizzled, and his stiff redwhiskers, the bright-blue eyes and white teeth would almost haveentitled him to be considered "handsome. " He had a strong, stiff-builtfigure, about the middle size, well made for everything but dancing, and large, _useful_ feet encased in the stoutest double-soled shootingshoes. The latter articles of costume proved him at once to be acountry gentleman. Every one must have remarked this peculiarity inthat enviable class. Their attire, particularly as regards the lowerman, is invariably of a nature to defy the utmost inclemency of theweather, and is worn totally irrespective of the season or the pursuitin which the owner may chance to be engaged at the time. But evenindependent of these tell-tales the stranger's social position waseasily enough discerned by the deference with which he was treated"along the line, " and the title of "Squire, " which greeted him fromguards, porters, and book-keepers at every station we passed. 

So humane a master of dumb animals, or one so fidgety as to theirwelfare, I never came across; and this, I confess, prepossessed me inhis favour. Every time the train stopped out jumped ourfellow-traveller, and off he went to a certain van containing histreasures, from which he emerged with a very red face and aconstantly-repeated apology for disturbing me on his return to hisseat. Despite of his thick shoes and his freckles, I could see the manwas a gentleman; but, dear me, what a contrast to the smart gentlemenI had lately been accustomed to meet! Beyond a "Beg your pardon; Ifear I'm very much in your way, " accompanied by such a vivid blush ascan be performed only by a red-haired man, the Squire did not ventureon any communication either with me or my aunt; and with the latter'slecture fresh in my mind I did not, as may be supposed, dare to takethe initiative by dropping my gloves, or pretending I couldn't pull upthe window, or any other little lady-like manoeuvre which lays thefoundation of a temporary intimacy, and often furnishes one with anagreeable hour's conversation. I can _not_ see why one should sit"mum" opposite the same person for miles, merely because one has neverbeen introduced. 

When we arrived at length at the Dangerfield Station, where LadyHorsingham's emblazoned coach and fat horses were in waiting for us, "the Squire, " who was here treated with a deference bordering onidolatry, got out too. He made an involuntary motion with his hand, asthough he would have taken his hat off, and wished us "good-morning;"but his shyness got the better of him, and he disappeared from theplatform, entangled amongst his dumb favourites, with a blush that wasvisible even at the back of his head, where the tips of his ears metthe rim of his white hat. As we toiled up the sandy lane leading fromDangerfield Station to Dangerfield Park, we were overtaken by a smart, high dogcart, drawn by a clever, raking-looking bay mare, and drivenby the owner of the freckles, the pointers, and the white hat. 

"Bachelor, my dear, " said Aunt Deborah as he whisked by, "and not atall a bad-looking man either. "

"How do you know he's a bachelor, aunt?" I naturally inquired. 

"Common-sense, my dear, " replied Aunt Deborah sententiously. "I judgeof people by their belongings. No lady could get into that dogcartwithout dirtying her dress against the wheel; and if he had a wife, that handsome bay horse would go with another in her carriage insteadof his. Besides, he wouldn't be so fond of his pointers if he hadanything else to care for; and above all, Kate, " added my auntconclusively, "his silk handkerchief wasn't hemmed, and he'd a buttonwanting in the front of his shirt. "

All my life I have had a sinking at my heart when I have heard thering at that great Dangerfield front door bell. It was better in mypoor uncle's time, for he would have made any place lively; but sincehis death the Park has relapsed into its natural solemnity, and I amquite sure that if ever I _do_ go into a convent my sensations will beexactly like those which I have always experienced when visiting AuntHorsingham. The moat alone is enough to give one the "blues;" but inaddition to that, the thick horse-chestnuts grow up to the verywindows, and dark Scotch firs shed a gloom all over the Park. Dangerfield is one of those places that seem always to be in theshade. How the strawberries ever ripen, or the flowers ever bloom, orthe birds ever sing there is to me a mystery. Outside there are darkwalls and yew hedges and cypresses, and here and there a copper beech, with lawns that are never mown and copses that are never thinned, tosay nothing of that stagnant moat, with its sombre and prolificvegetation; whilst within, black oak wainscoting, and heavy tapestry, and winding staircases, and small, deep-set windows, and oddly-shapedrooms, with steps at the door like going down into a bath, and doorsconsiderably up and down hill, and queer recesses that frighten oneout of one's wits to go into, form altogether a domicile that wouldtame the wildest Merry-Andrew in a fortnight into as staid and soberand stupid a personage as the veriest Lady Superior could desire. AuntHorsingham received us as usual with a freezing smile. 

"How do you do, Kate?" said she, putting two of her cold bony fingersinto my hand. "I'm afraid you will find it rather dull here afterLondon; but it is _wholesome_ for young people to be occasionallysobered a little. "

Aunt Horsingham is tall and thin, with a turn-up nose, rather red atthe point, a back that never stoops, and a grim smile that nevervaries. She dresses in bright colours, affecting strange and startlingcontrasts, both of hues and material. Her hands are always cold andseldom clean; and she has sundry uncomfortable notions about dampingthe spirits of youth and checking the exuberance of its gaiety whichrender her a perfect terror and bugbear to the rising generation. WhenI was a little thing, laughing, prattling, and giggling, as childrenwill, an admonishing look from my aunt, with a gaunt finger heldaloft, and a cold "Kate, don't be silly, my dear, " was alwayssufficient to make me dull and gloomy for the rest of the day. 

I should like to know indeed why children are not to be "_silly_. " Aregrown-up people always so rational in their amusements orirreproachable in their demeanour? "Let the child alone, " poor UncleHarry used to say; and once I overheard him mutter, "I've morepatience with a _young_ fool than an _old_ one. " Such training has nothad a good effect on Cousin Amelia. She has been so constantly tutoredto conceal her emotions and to adopt the carriage and manners of anautomaton that the girl is now a complete hypocrite. It is quiteimpossible to make her out. If you tickled her, I don't believe youcould get her to laugh; and if you struck her, I very much doubtwhether she would cry. My aunt calls it "self-command;" I call it"imbecility. " She shook hands with me in her provokingly patronizingmanner--"hoped I had brought my horses with me" (as if I was coming tospend months at Dangerfield without Brilliant!); "supposed I had myside-saddle in the cap-box;" and showed me my room without so much asa single kind word of welcome or a cousinly caress. It was quite arelief to help dear Aunt Deborah to unpack her dressing-case, and kissher pleasant face, and give her the warm cup of tea without which AuntDeborah never dreams of dressing for dinner. 

Oh, those solemn, heavy, silent, stupid dinners, with the massiveplate and the dark oak wainscoting, and the servants gliding aboutlike ghosts at a festival in Acheron! What a relief it would have beeneven to have had a clownish footman spill soup over one's dress, orice-cream down one's back, or anything to break the monotony of theentertainment! But, no; there we sat, Aunt Horsingham remarking thatthe "weather was dull" and the "crops looking very unpromising;" AuntDeborah with her eyes fixed on a portrait of the late Mr. David Jonesas a boy, opposite which she invariably took her place, and on which, though representing an insignificant urchin in a high frill and bluejacket, she gazed intently during the whole repast; Cousin Amelialooking at herself in the silver dish-covers, and when those wereremoved relapsing into a state of irritable torpor; and as for poorme, all I could do was to think over the pleasures of the past season, and dwell rather more than I should otherwise have done on the imageof Frank Lovell, and the very agreeable acquisition he would have beento such a party. And then the evenings were, if possible, worse thanthe dinners--work, work, work--mum, mum, mum--till tea. And after teaAunt Horsingham would read to us, in her dry harsh voice, longpassages from the _Spectator_, very excellent articles from the_Rambler_, highly interesting in their day no doubt, but which losesome of their point after an interval of nearly a century; or, worsethan all, Pope's "Homer" or Cowper's "Task, " running the lines intoeach other, so as to avoid what she called "the sing-song of therhymes, " till the poet's effusions sounded like the most extraordinaryprose, cut into lengths, as we ladies should say, for no earthlypurpose but to make nonsense of the whole thing. Her ladyship neverwent to bed till eleven; so there, having dined at half-past six to aminute, we were forced to sit three mortal hours and a half, swallowing yawns and repressing that inexplicable disorder termed the"fidgets" till the welcome bed-candles arrived. No wonder men drinkand smoke and commit all sort of enormities to fill up those dreadfulhours after dinner. I think if ever I take to tobacco it will be atDangerfield. 

Then of course the Hall was haunted; and of course _my_ passage wasthe one which the ghost particularly affected. It was a sad story thatof "the Dangerfield ghost. " I have got it all out of Aunt Deborah atdifferent times; and though I don't exactly believe in the spectre, Ican't help sometimes crying over the incidents. The fact is, theHorsinghams were quite as proud of their ghost as they were of theirhand; and although not a very creditable tale to any of the family, Aunt Deborah would never forgive me if I were not to relate thetragedy which conferred on Dangerfield the honour of being a hauntedhouse. 

In the reign of George II, the head of the house, Sir Hugh Horsingham, married a young wife, and brought her home to Dangerfield with theusual demonstrations and rejoicings peculiar to such an event. SirHugh was a dark, morose man, considerably older than his bride; sternand forbidding in his manners, but possessing deep feelings under areserved exterior, and a courage and determination not to be dauntedor subdued. Such a man was capable of great things for good or forevil; and such was the very nature on which a woman's influence mighthave produced the most beneficial results. But, unfortunately, youngLady Horsingham had but one feeling for her lord, and that was intenseterror of his anger. She never sought to win his confidence; she neverentered into his political schemes, his deeper studies, or even hiscountry amusements and pursuits. All she thought of was how to avoidoffending Sir Hugh; and ere long this one idea grew to such a pitchthat she quite trembled in his presence, could scarcely answerdistinctly when he spoke to her, and seemed hardly to draw breath infreedom save when out of his sight. Such a state of things could havebut one ending--distrust and suspicion on one side, unqualifiedaversion on the other. A marriage, never of inclination, as indeed inthose days amongst great families few marriages were, became aninsupportable slavery ere the first year of wedded life had elapsed;and by the time an heir was born to the house of Horsingham, probablythere was no unhappier couple within fifty miles of Dangerfield thandark Sir Hugh and his pretty, fair-haired, gentle wife. No; she oughtnever to have married him at all. It was but the night before herwedding that she walked in the garden of her father's old manor-housewith a bright, open-hearted, handsome youth, whose brow wore thatexpression of acute agony which it is so pitiable to witness on ayoung countenance--that look almost of _physical_ pain, which betokenshow the iron has indeed "entered the sufferer's soul. " "Ah, you mayplead, 'Cousin Edward;' but we women are of a strange mixture, and_the weakest_ of us may possess _obstinacy_ such as no earthlyconsideration can overcome. " "Lucy! Lucy! for _the last_ time, thinkof it; for the love of Heaven, do not drive me mad; think of it oncemore; it is the last, _last_ chance!" The speaker was white as asheet, and his hollow voice came in hoarse, inarticulate whispers ashe looked almost fiercely into that dear face to read his doom. Toowell he knew the set, fixed expression of her delicate profile. Shedid not dare turn towards him; she could not have looked him in theface and persevered; but she kept her eyes fastened on the horizon, asthough she saw her future in the fading sunset; and whilst her heartseemed turning to very stone she kept her lips firmly closed; sherepressed the tears that would have choked her, and so for _that_ timeshe conquered. 

Lucy had a great idea of duty; hers was no high-principled love ofduty from the noblest motives, but a morbid dread of self-reproach. She had not _character_ enough to do anything out of her own notionsof the beaten track. She had promised her father she would marry SirHugh Horsingham--not that he had the slightest right to exact such apromise--and she felt bound to fulfil it. She never remembered theinjury she was doing "Cousin Edward, " the _right_ which such devotionas _his_ ought to have given him. She _knew_ she loved him better thanany one in the world; she knew she was about to commit an act of thegreatest injustice towards Sir Hugh; but she had "promised papa, " andthough she would have given worlds to avoid fulfilling her compact, she had not strength of mind to break the chain and be free. 

Cousin Edward! Cousin Edward! you should have carried her off then andthere; she would have been truly grateful for the rest of her life, but she would have died sooner than open her lips. He washurt--reckless--almost savage. He thought her sullen. "Once more, Lucy, " he said, and his eye glared fiercely in the waning light--"oncemore, _will_ you give me one word, or _never_ set eyes on me again?"Her lip never moved. "I give you till we pass that tree"--he lookeddangerous now--"and then"--he swore a great oath--"I leave you forever!" Lucy thought the tree looked strange and ghastly in the risingmoon, she even remarked a knot upon its smooth white stem; but sheheld out whilst one might have counted ten; and when she turned round, poor girl, Cousin Edward was gone!

CHAPTER IX. 

So the bells rung merrily at Dangerfield, and the rustics huzzaed fortheir landlord and the comely village maidens envied the bride; andLucy was Lady Horsingham now, with new duties and a high position, anda large, fine, gloomy house, and jewels in her hair, and an achingheart in her bosom. Nevertheless, she determined to do her duty as awife; and every hour of the day she resolved _not_ to think of CousinEdward. 

Years elapsed, and pretty Lucy became a gentle, handsomewoman--kindly, courteous, and beloved by all, timid, and shrinkingonly with Sir Hugh. Her husband, wearied and discontented, mixedhimself fiercely in all the intrigues of the day--became a staunchpartisan of the House of Stuart, and sought for excitement abroad inproportion as he missed congeniality of feeling at home. It was anunhappy household. Their one child was the mother's sole consolation;she scarcely ever let it out of her presence. They were a prettysight, that loving couple, as they basked in the sun of a finesummer's morning on the terrace in front of the manor-house. The boy, with his mother's blue eyes and his own golden curls and the arch, merry smile that he never got from stern Sir Hugh; and the fair, graceful woman, with her low, white brow and her soft brown hair andher quiet gestures and gentle sorrowing face--that face that hauntspoor Cousin Edward still. 

"Mamma!" says the urchin, pouting his rosy lips, "why don't you playwith me?--what are you thinking of?" and a shade passes over that kindface, and she blushes, though there is no one with her but the child, and catches him up and smothers him in kisses, and says "_You_, mydarling;" but, nevertheless, I do not think at that moment she wasthinking either of her boy or Sir Hugh. 

And where was Cousin Edward all the time? Why, at that particularinstant, sword-point to sword-point with Colonel Bludyer of theDragoons, slightly wounded in two places--cool and wary, and seemingto enjoy, with a sort of fierce pleasure, such a safety-valve forexcitement as a duel with one of the best fencers in Europe. 

Cousin Edward was an altered man since he stood with the future LadyHorsingham in the moonlight. "An evil counsellor is despair;" and he hadhugged that grim adviser to his heart. He had grown handsomer, indeed, than ever; but the wild eye, the haggard brow, and the deep lines abouthis mouth spoke of days spent in fierce excitement--nights passed inreckless dissipation. He had never forgotten Lucy through it all, buteven her image only goaded him to fresh extravagances--anything to deadenthe sting of remembrance--anything to efface the maddening past. SoCousin Edward too became a Jacobite; and was there a daring scheme to beexecuted, a foolhardy exploit to be performed--life and limb to be riskedwithout a question--who so ready and so reckless as "handsome NedMeredith"?

In the course of their secret meetings and cabals he became slightlyacquainted with Sir Hugh Horsingham; and, with the inexplicableinfatuation peculiar to a man in love, he look a pleasure in beingnear one so closely connected with Lucy, although that one was thevery person who had deprived him of all he valued on earth. So it fellout that Sir Hugh Horsingham and Ned Meredith were supping at the Roseand Thistle in close alliance, the table adjoining them being occupiedby those staunch Hanoverians, Colonel Bludyer and Mr. Thornton. 

"Here's 'The Blackbird, '"* said Cousin Edward, tossing off a hugegoblet of Bordeaux, and looking round the room with an air of defianceas he proposed so well-known a toast. Sir Hugh was a man of a certaingrim humour, and as he drained his goblet and nodded to his companion, he added, "May the rats dance to his whistle, and the devil--that's_you_, Ned--take the hindmost!"

 * One of the many passwords by which the adherents of the Chevalier distinguished that ill-fated Prince. 

Colonel Bludyer rose from his chair, placed his cocked hat on hishead, and turned the buckle of his sword-belt in front. "The King!" heshouted, raising his hat with one hand and filling a bumper with theother. "The King!" he repeated, scowling fiercely at his twoneighbours. 

"Over the water!" roared Ned Meredith; and the Colonel, turningrapidly round and mistaking his man, flung his cocked hat right in SirHugh Horsingham's face. 

Swords were out in a second--thrust, parry, and return passed likelightning, but the bystanders separated the combatants; and Meredith, determining for the sake of Lucy that Sir Hugh should encounter nounnecessary danger, took the whole quarrel on himself, and arranged ameeting for the following morning with the redoubtable ColonelBludyer. Thus it was that while Lucy and her boy were basking in thesummer sunshine, Cousin Edward was exhausting all his knowledge ofswordsmanship in vain endeavours to get within that iron Colonel'sguard. The duel was fought on the ground now occupied by LeicesterSquare, Sir Hugh and Mr. Thornton officiating as seconds, though, thelatter being disabled from the effects of a recent encounter, they didnot, as was usual in those days, fight to the death, merely "_pour sedésennuyer_. " Stripped to their shirts--in breeches and silkstockings, with no shoes--the antagonists lunged and glared andpanted, and twice paused for breath by mutual consent, with no furtherdamage than two slight wounds in Ned's sword-arm. 

"Very pretty practice, " said Mr. Thornton, coolly taking a pinch ofsnuff, and offering his box to Sir Hugh. "I'm in despair at not beingable to oblige you this fine morning. "

"Some other time, " replied Sir Hugh with a grim smile; "d----ation, "he added, "Ned's down!"

Sure enough Cousin Edward was on the grass, striving in vain to raisehimself, and gasping out that he "wasn't the least hurt. " He had gotit just between the ribs, and was trying to stanch the blood with adelicate laced handkerchief, in a corner of which, had he examined itclosely, Sir Hugh would have found embroidered the well-known name of"Lucy. " Poor Cousin Edward! it was all he had belonging to his lostlove, and he would have been unwilling to die without that fragment oflace in his hand. 

"A very promising fencer, " remarked Colonel Bludyer, as he wiped hisrapier on the grass. "If he ever gets over it, he won't forget that"_plongeant_" thrust in tierce. I never knew it fail, Thornton--never, with a man under thirty. " So the Colonel put his coat on, and droveoff to breakfast; while Sir Hugh took charge of Ned Meredith, and assoon as he was recovered--for his wound was not mortal--carried himdown with him to get thoroughly well at Dangerfield Hall. 

It is an old, old story. Love, outraged and set at defiance, bides histime, and takes his revenge. Dangerfield looked like a different placenow, so thought Lucy; and her spirits rose, and the colour came backto her cheek, and she even summoned courage to speak withouthesitating to Sir Hugh. When Cousin Edward was strong enough to limpabout the house, it seemed that glimpses of sunshine brightened thosedark oak rooms; and ere he was able to take the air, once more leaningon Lucy's arm, alas! alas! he had become even dearer to theimpassioned, thoughtful woman than he ever was to the timid, vacillating girl. There was an addition now to the party on theterrace in the bright autumn mornings, but the little boy needed nolonger to ask mamma "what she was thinking of;" and the three wouldhave seemed to a careless observer a happy family party--husband, wife, and child. Oh that it could but have been so!

In the meantime Sir Hugh was again as usual busied with his stateintrigues and party politics, and absented himself for weeks togetherfrom the Hall; riding post to London night and day, returning at allsorts of unexpected hours, leaving again at a moment's notice, andotherwise comporting himself in his usual mysterious reserved manner. Yet those who knew him best opined there was something wrong about SirHugh. He was restless and preoccupied; his temper less easily excitedabout trifles than was his wont, but perfectly ungovernable when oncehe gave way to it. No man dared to question him. He had not a friendin the world who would have ventured to offer him a word of advice orconsolation; but it was evident to his servants and his intimates thatSir Hugh was ill at ease. Who can tell the struggles that rent thatstrong, proud heart? Who could see beneath that cold surface, and readthe intense feelings of love, hatred, jealousy, or revenge thatsmouldered below, stifled and kept down by the iron will, thestubborn, indomitable pride? There is a deep meaning in the legend ofthat Spartan boy who suffered the stolen fox to gnaw his very vitals, the while he covered him with his tunic and preserved on his braveface a smile of unconcern. Most of us have a stolen fox somewhere; butthe weak nature writhes and moans, and is delivered from its torment, while the bold, unflinching spirit preserves a gallant bearing beforethe world, and scorns to be relieved from the fangs that are drainingits very life away. 

Whatever Sir Hugh saw or suspected, he said not a word to Lucy, norwas it until surmise had become certainty that he forbade "CousinEdward" the house. To him he would not condescend to explain hismotives; he simply wrote to him to say that on his return he shouldexpect to find that his guest had departed, and that he had sufficientreasons for requesting his visits might not be repeated. With his wifehe was, if possible, more austere and morose than ever; so once morethe Hall resumed its old aspect of cheerlessness and desolation, andits mistress went moping about, more than ever miserable andbroken-hearted. Such a state of things could not long go on; thevisits forbidden openly took place by stealth; and the climax rapidlyapproached which was to result in the celebrated Dangerfield tragedy. 

At this period there was set on foot another of those determined plotswhich during the first two reigns of the house of Hanover soconstantly harassed that dynasty. Sir Hugh of course was a prime moverof the conspiracy, and was much in London and elsewhere gatheringintelligence, raising funds, and making converts to his opinions. NedMeredith, having, it is to be presumed, all his energies occupied inhis own private intrigues, had somewhat withdrawn of late from theJacobite party; and Sir Hugh heard, with his grim, unmoved smile, manya jest and innuendo levelled at the absentee. 

One stormy winter's evening the baronet, well armed, cloaked, and booted, left his own house for the metropolis, accompanied by one trusty servant. He was bearing papers of importance, and was hurrying on to lay them withthe greatest dispatch before his fellow-conspirators. As night wasdrawing on, Sir Hugh's horse shied away from a wild figure, looming likesome spectre in the fading light; and ere he had forced the animal backinto the path, his bridle was caught by a half-naked lad, whom the riderat once recognized as an emissary he had often before employed to be thebearer of secret intelligence, and who, under an affectation of beinghalf-witted, concealed much shrewdness of observation and unimpeachablefidelity to the cause. 

"Whip and spur, Sir Hugh--whip and spur, " said the lad, who seemedflustered and confused with drink; "you may burst your best horsebetwixt this and London, and all to get there before you're wanted. Adollar to drink, Sir Hugh, like handsome Ned gave me this morning--adollar to drink, and I'll save you a journey for the sake of the'Bonny White Rose' and the 'Bird with the Yellow Bill. '"

Sir Hugh scrutinized the lad with a piercing eye, flung him a crownfrom his purse, and bid him "out with what he had to say, for that hehimself was hurried, and must push on to further the good cause. " Thelad was sobered in an instant. 

"Look ye here, Sir Hugh, " he said eagerly; "handsome Ned went down theroad at a gallop this morning. There's something brewing in London, you may trust me, Sir Hugh, and I tried to stop him to learn hiserrand; but he tossed me a crown and galloped on. He took the Hillroad, Sir Hugh, and you came up the Vale; but he's bound forDangerfield, I know, and mayhap he's got papers that will save yourjourney to London. No offence, Sir Hugh, " added the lad, for thebaronet's face was black as midnight. 

"None, my good boy, " was the reply in a hoarse, thick voice. "Hold, there's another crown for you--drink it every farthing, you villain!or I never give you a sixpence again;" and Sir Hugh rode on as thoughbound for London, but stopped a mile farther forward, at a place wheretwo roads met; and entrusting his papers to his servant, bade himhasten on with them, whilst he galloped back through the darkness inthe direction of his home. 

Home, indeed! Had it ever been home to Sir Hugh? Would it be hometo-night? When he got back there, and skulked into his own house likea midnight thief--what would he do?--why was he galloping so fast? SirHugh set his teeth tight, and holding his powerful horse hard by thehead urged him on faster than before. The lights are all out in thelittle village of which he is sole master, and his horse's hoofsclattering through the street rouse the sleepy inmates for an instantere they return to their peaceful rest. Sir Hugh is not sleepy; hefeels as if he never should want to sleep again. 

How dark it is in the Park under those huge old trees! He fastens hishorse to one of the drooping branches, and after removing his pistolsfrom their holsters spreads his cloak over the heaving flanks of theheated animal. Habit is second nature, and he does not forget the goodhorse. He strides through the shrubberies and across Lucy's garden, crushing with his heavy boot-heel the last flower that had lingered oninto the winter. There is a light streaming from one of the windows inthe gallery. Ha!--he _may_ be right--he may not have returned in vain. For an instant a feeling of sickness comes over him, and he learns forthe first time that he _had_ cherished a hope he might be deceived. 

He can let himself in by the garden-gate with his own pass-key. Ere heis aware, he is tramping up the corridor in his heavy horseman'sboots--his hand is on the door--there is a woman's shriek--and SirHugh's tall, dark figure fills the doorway of Lucy's sitting-room, where, alas! she is not alone, for the stern, angry husband isconfronted by Ned Meredith!

Lucy cowers down in a corner of the room with her face buried in herhands. Cousin Edward draws himself up to his full height, and lookshis antagonist steadily in the face, but with an expression of calmdespair that seems to say fate has now done her worst. Sir Hugh iscool, collected, and polite; nay, he can even smile, but he speaksstrangely, almost in a whisper, and hisses through his set teeth. Hehas double-locked the door behind him, and turns to Cousin Edward witha grave, courteous bow. 

"You have done me the honour of an unexpected visit, Mr. Meredith, " hesays. "I trust Lady Horsingham has entertained you hospitably! Pray donot stir, madam. Mr. Meredith, we are now quits; you saved my lifewhen you encountered Colonel Bludyer; I forbore from taking yours whenI had proofs that it was my right. We have now entered on a freshaccount, but the game shall be fairly played. Mr. Meredith, you are aman of honour--yes, it shall be fairly played. " Ned's lip quivered, but he bowed and stood perfectly still. "Lady Horsingham, " continuedSir Hugh, "be good enough to hand me those tables; they contain adice-box. --Nay, Mr. Meredith, " seeing Ned about to assist thehelpless, frightened woman; "when _present_, at least, I expect mywife to obey me. " Lucy was forced to rise, and, trembling in everylimb, to present the tables to her lord. Sir Hugh placed the dice-boxon the table, laid his pistols beside it, and, taking a seat, motionedto Cousin Edward to do the same. "You are a man of honour, Mr. Meredith, " he repeated; "we will throw three times, and the highestcaster shall blow the other's brains out. " Lucy shrieked and rushed tothe door; it was fast, and her husband forced her to sit down andwatch the ghastly game. 

"Good God, Sir Hugh!" exclaimed Cousin Edward, "this is toohorrible--for your wife's sake--any reparation I can make, I will; butthis is murder, deliberate murder!"

"You are a man of honour, Mr. Meredith, " reiterated Sir Hugh. "I askfor no reparation but this--the chances are equal if the stakes arehigh. You are my guest, or rather, I should say, _Lady Horsingham'sguest_. Begin. " Cousin Edward's face turned ghastly pale. He took thebox, shook it, hesitated; but the immovable eye was fixed on him, thestern lips repeated once more, "You are a man of honour, " and hethrew--"Four. " It was now Sir Hugh's turn. With a courteous bow hereceived the box, and threw--"Seven. " Again the adversaries cast, theone a six, the other a three; and now they were even in the ghastlymatch. Once more Cousin Edward shook the box, and the leaping diceturned up--"Eleven. " Lucy's white face stood out in the lamplight, asshe watched with stony eyes that seemed to have lost the very power ofsight. 

"For God's sake, forego this frightful determination, Sir Hugh, "pleaded Cousin Edward; "take my life in a fair field. I will offer noresistance; but you can hardly expect to outdo my throw, and nothingshall induce me to take advantage of it. Think better of it, Sir Hugh, I entreat you. "

"You are a man of honour, Mr. Meredith, and so am I, " was the onlyreply, as Sir Hugh brandished the box aloft, and thundered it down onthe table--"Sixes!" "Good casting, " he remarked; and at the sameinstant cocking the pistol nearest to him, discharged it full into hisantagonist's bosom. The bullet sped through a delicate lacehandkerchief, which he always wore there, straight and true intoCousin Edward's heart. As he fell forward across the table, a darkstream flowed slowly along the carpet, till it dyed the border ofLucy's white dress with a crimson stain. She was on her knees, apparently insensible; but one small hand felt the cold, wet contact, and she looked at it, and saw that it was blood. Once more she uttereda shriek that rang through those vast buildings, and rushed again tothe door to find it locked. In sheer despair she made for the window, threw open the casement, and ere Sir Hugh could seize or stop herflung herself headlong into the court below. When the horrifiedhusband looked down into the darkness, a wisp of white garments, abruised and lifeless body, was all that remained of Lady Horsingham. 

That night one half of Dangerfield Hall was consumed by fire. Itsmistress was said to have perished in the flames. The good neighbours, the honest country people, pitied poor Sir Hugh, galloping back fromLondon, to find his house in ruins and his wife a corpse. His gaycompanions missed "Ned Meredith" from his usual haunts; but it wasgenerally supposed he had obtained a mission to the court of St. Germains, and there was a rumour that he had perished in a duel with aFrench marquis. A certain half-witted lad, who had followed Sir Hughback to Dangerfield on that fearful night, might have elucidated themystery; but he had been kidnapped, and sent to the plantations. Aftermany years he returned to England, and on his deathbed left a writtenstatement, implicating Sir Hugh in the double crime of arson andmurder. But long ere this the culprit had appeared before a tribunalwhich admits of no prevarication, and the pretty boy with the goldencurls had become lord of Dangerfield Hall. The long corridor had beenbut partially destroyed. It was repaired and refurnished by successivegenerations; but guests and servants alike refused to sleep again inthat dreary wing after the first trial. Every night, so surely as theclock tolled out the hour of twelve, a rush of feet was heard alongthe passage--a window looking into the court was thrown open--apiercing scream from a woman's voice rang through the building--andthose who were bold enough to look out averred that they beheld awhite figure leap wildly into the air and disappear. Some even went sofar as to affirm that drops of blood, freshly sprinkled, were foundevery morning on the pavement of the court. But no one ever doubtedthe Dangerfield ghost to be the nightly apparition of Lucy, LadyHorsingham. At length, in my grandfather's time, certain boards beinglifted to admit of fresh repairs in the accursed corridor, thesilver-mounted guard of a rapier, the stock and barrel of a pistol, with a shred of lace, on which the letter "L" was yet visible, werediscovered by the workmen. They are in existence still. Whatever otherremains accompanied them turned to dust immediately on exposure to theair. That dust was, however, religiously collected and buried in amausoleum appropriated to the Horsinghams. Since then the ghost hasbeen less troublesome; but most of the family have seen or heard it atleast once in their lives. I confess that if ever I lie awake atDangerfield till the clock strikes twelve I invariably stop my earsand bury my head under the bedclothes for at least a quarter of anhour. By these means I have hitherto avoided any personal acquaintancewith the spectre; but nothing on earth would induce me to walk downthat corridor at midnight and risk a private interview with theDangerfield ghost!

CHAPTER X. 

As for spending a whole morning in the drawing-room with the ladies itis what I cannot and will not submit to. Working and scandal, scandaland working, from half-past ten till two is more than I can stand, sothe very first morning I was at Dangerfield I resolved to break thechain at once, and do as I always meant to do for the future. Accordingly, immediately after breakfast I popped my bonnet on--thelavender one, that had done a good deal of London work, but was stillquite good enough for the country--and started off for a walk bymyself, confiding my intentions to no one; as I well knew if I did Ishould have Aunt Deborah's "Kate, _pray_ don't overheat yourself, mydear. Do wrap yourself up, and take care not to catch cold;" and LadyHorsingham's sarcastic smile, and "In _my_ time, Miss Coventry, youngladies were not in the habit of trailing all over the country bythemselves; but I expect soon to hear of their farming and fishing andshooting, I shouldn't wonder--not worse than _hunting_, at any rate. However, I say nothing;" and Cousin Amelia with her lackadaisicalsneer, and her avowal that "she was not _equal_ to walking, " and heroffer to "go as far as the garden with me in the afternoon. " So Itripped down the back staircase and away to the stables with a bit ofsugar for Brilliant, who had arrived safely by the train in companywith White Stockings, and on through the kitchen-garden and thehome-farm up to the free, fresh, breezy down. 

I do enjoy a walk by myself, and it was the last chance I should haveof one; for Cousin John was expected that very day, and when CousinJohn and I are anywhere, of course we are inseparable. But I am surean occasional stroll quite by oneself does one more good thananything. I think of such quantities of things that never occur to meat other times--fairies, brigands, knights, and damsels, and all sortsof wild adventures; and I feel so brave and determined, as if I couldface anything in a right cause, and so _good_, and I make suchexcellent resolutions, and walk faster and faster, and get more andmore romantic, like a goose, as I know I am. 

Well, it was a beautiful morning, early in autumn--blue sky, lightfleecy clouds, a sharp, clear air from the north, the low countrystudded with corn-ricks, and alive with reapers and cart-teams andcattle. A green valley below me, rich in fine old timber, and clothedwith high, thick hedgerows, concealing the sluggish river that stolesoftly away, and only gleamed out here and there to light up thedistance; whilst above and around me stretched far and wide the vastexpanse of down, cutting sharply against the sky, and dwarfing to mereshrubs the clumps of old fir trees that relieved its magnificentmonotony. I was deep in a daydream and an imaginary conversation withFrank Lovell--in which I was running over with much mental eloquencewhat _I_ should say, and what _he_ would say, and what _I_ shouldreply to _that_--when a shrill whistle caused me to start and turnsuddenly round; whilst at the same instant a great black retrieverbounced up against my legs, and two handsome pointers raced by me asif just emancipated from the kennel. The consequence of all this wasthat I stepped hastily on a loose stone, turned my foot the wrong wayunder me, and came down with a slightly-sprained ankle, and the blackretriever, an animal of exceedingly noisome breath, affectionatelylicking my face. 

"Down, Juno!--I beg your pardon a million times; get down, you bitch!How shall I ever apologize? Confound you, get down, " said an agitatedvoice above me; and looking up I espied the red-haired stranger of therailway, dressed in a most conspicuous shooting-costume, white hat andall, whose dogs had been the means of bringing me thus suddenly to theearth, and on whom I was now dependent for succour and support till Ishould be able to reach home. 

In such an emergency my new friend was not half so confused and shy asI should have expected. He seemed to summon all his energies toconsider what was best to be done; and as my foot pained meconsiderably when I tried to walk (particularly down hill), he made nomore ado, but lifted me carefully in his arms, and proceededincontinently to carry me off in the direction of Dangerfield Hall, where he seemed intuitively to know I was at present residing. 

It was, to say the least of it, an unusual situation. A man I hadnever seen but once before in my life--and here was I lying in hisarms (precious weight he must have found me!) and looking up in hisface like a child in its nurse's, and the usages of society making itincumbent on us both to attempt a sort of indifferent conversationabout the weather and the country and the beauty of the scenery, whichthe juxtaposition of our respective faces rendered ludicrous in theextreme. 

"A tempting day for a walk, Miss--ah--ah" (he didn't know my name--howshould he?--and was now beginning to get very red, partly from thereturn of his constitutional shyness and partly from the severity ofhis exertions). "I hope your foot does not pain you quite so much; begood enough to lean a little more this way. " Poor man, how his armsmust have ached! Whilst I replied somewhat in this fashion, "Thankyou, I'm better; I shall soon be able to walk, I think; this is indeeda lovely country. Don't you find me very heavy?" "I think I couldcarry you a good many miles, " he said quietly; and then seemed soshocked at such an avowal that he hardly opened his lips again, andput me down the very first time I asked him, and offered me his armwith an accession of confusion that made me feel quite awkward myself. Truth to tell, my ankle was not sprained, only _twisted_; and when theimmediate pain wore off I was pretty sound again, and managed, withthe assistance of my new acquaintance's arm, to make a very good walkof it. So we plodded on quite sociably towards the Hall, and my friendtook leave of me at the farm with a polite bow and a sort ofhesitating manner that most shy men possess, and which would lead oneto infer they have always got something more to say that never issaid. I knew I should be well scolded if I avowed my accident to anyof the family; besides, I did not quite fancy facing all the inquiriesas to how I got home, and Cousin Amelia's sneers about errant damselsand wandering knights; so I stole quietly up to my room, bathed myfoot in eau-de-Cologne, and remained _perdue_ till dinner-time, indespite of repeated messages from my aunts and the arrival of CousinJohn. 

People may talk about country pleasures and country duties and all thecharms of country life; but it appears to me that a good many things aredone under the titles of pleasure and duty which belong in reality toneither; and that those who live entirely in the country inflict onthemselves a great variety of unnecessary disagreeables, as they lose agreat many of its chief delights. Of all receipts for weariness commendme to a dinner-party of country neighbours by _daylight_--people who knoweach other just well enough to have opposite interests and secretjealousies--who arrive ill at ease in their smart dresses, to sit througha protracted meal with hot servants and forced conversation, till oneyoung lady on her promotion being victimized at the pianoforte enablesthem to yawn unobserved; and welcome ten o'clock brings round thecarriage and tipsy coachman, in order that they may enter on their long, dark, dreary drive home through lanes and by-ways, which is onlyendurable from the consideration that the annual ordeal has beenaccomplished, and that they need not do it again till this time nextyear. 

There was a dinner-party at Dangerfield regularly once a month, andthis was the day. Aunt Horsingham was great on these occasions, astonishing the neighbours as much with her London dresses as didCousin Amelia with her London manners. We all assembled a few minutesearlier than usual in the drawing-room, so as to be ready to receiveour guests, and great was the infliction on poor Aunt Deborah and myhumble self. How they trooped in, one after another! Sir Brian andLady Banneret and Master Banneret and two Misses Banneret; these werethe great cards of the party; so Lady Horsingham kissed Lady Banneretand the young ladies, and opined Master Banneret was _grown_, much tothe indignation of that young gentleman, who, being an Oxonian, ofcourse considered himself _a man_. Sir Brian was a good-humoured jollyold boy, with a loud laugh, and stood with his coat-tails lifted andhis back to the empty fireplace in perfect ease and contentment. Notso his lady; first she scrutinized everything Lady Horsingham had goton, then she took a review of the furniture, and specially marked onefaded place in the carpet. Lastly, she turned a curious anddisappointed glance on myself. I accounted for the latter mark ofdispleasure by the becoming shade of my gown; I knew it was a prettyone, and would meet with feminine censure accordingly. The Banneretswere soon followed by Mr. And Mrs. Plumridge, a newly-married couple, who were _fêted_ accordingly. Mr. Plumridge was a light-haired, unmeaning-looking individual, partially bald, with a blue coat andwhite satin neckcloth; his bride a lively, sarcastic, black-eyedlittle woman, who must have married him for her own convenience--theysaid afterwards she was once a governess; but at all events she heldher own handsomely when alone with the ladies after dinner, and partlyfrom good-humour, partly from an exceedingly off-hand natural manner, forced even Lady Banneret to be civil to her. Then came the Marmadukesand the Marygolds, and old Miss Finch in a sedan-chair from theadjoining village, and a goodish-looking man whose name I never madeout, and Mr. Sprigges the curate; and lastly, in a white heat and astate of utter confusion, my shy acquaintance of the railway and thepointers, who was ushered in by Lady Horsingham's pompous butler underthe style and title of Mr. Haycock. He appeared to be a great friendof the family; and, much to his own discomfiture, was immediately laidviolent hands on by my aunt and cousin--the former not thinking itnecessary to present him to me, till he offered me his arm to take mein to dinner, when her face of reproval, on his stammering out he "hadmet Miss Coventry before, " was worth anything, expressive as it was ofshocked propriety and puzzled astonishment. 

When you have a secret only known to your two selves, even with a shyman, it is wonderful how it brings him on. Before the soup was off thetable Squire Haycock and I had become wonderfully good friends. He hadhoped "my ankle did not pain me, " and I had trusted "his arms did notache. " He had even gone the length of "vowing" that he would have shothis clumsy retriever for being the cause of the accident, only he lethim off because "if it hadn't been for the dog----" and here, seeingCousin Amelia's eye fixed upon us, my companion stopped dead short, and concealed his blushes in a glass of champagne. Taking courage fromthat well-iced stimulant, he reverted to our railway journey incompany. 

"I knew you again this morning, Miss Coventry, I assure you, a longway off; in fact, I was going the other way, only, seeing you walkingin that lonely part of the down, I feared you might be frightened" (hewas getting bright scarlet again), "and I determined to watch you at alittle distance, and be ready to assist you if you were alarmed bytramps or sheep-dogs or----"

I thought he was getting on too fast, so I stopped him at once byreplying, --

"I am well able to take care of myself, Mr. Haycock, I assure you, andI like best walking _quite_ alone;" after which I turned my shoulder alittle towards him, and completely discomfited him for the rest ofdinner. One great advantage of diffidence in a man is that one can soeasily reduce him to the lowest depths of despondency; but then, onthe other hand, he is apt to think one means to be more cruel than onedoes, and one is obliged to be kind in proportion to previouscoldness, or the stupid creature breaks away altogether. When theladies got up to leave the dining-room, I dropped my handkerchief wellunder the table, and when it was returned to me by the Squire, I gavehim such a look of gratitude as I knew would bring him back to me inthe evening. Nobody hates flirting so much as myself, but what is oneto do shut up in a country-house, with no earthly thing to occupy oramuse one?

Tea and coffee served but little to produce cordiality amongst thefemale portion of the guests after their flight to the drawing-room. Lady Horsingham and Lady Banneret talked apart on a sofa; they weredeep in the merits of their respective preachers and the failings oftheir respective maids. Mrs. Marmaduke and Mrs. Marygold, having had a"Book-Club" feud, did not speak to each other, but communicatedthrough the medium of Miss Finch, whose deafness rendered this asomewhat unsatisfactory process. Aunt Deborah went to sleep as usual;and I tried the two Miss Bannerets consecutively, but ascertained thatneither would open her lips, at least in the presence of mamma. Atlast I found a vacant place by the side of Mrs. Plumridge, anddiscovered immediately, with the peculiar freemasonry which I believemen do not possess, that she was _one of my sort_. She liked walking, riding, driving, dancing--all that I liked, in short; and she hatedscandal-gossiping, _sensible_ women, morning visits, and worsted-work, for all of which I confess to an unqualified aversion. We were gettingfast friends when the gentlemen came in from their wine, honest SirBrian's voice sounding long before he entered the room, and the worthygentleman himself rolling in with an unsteady step, partly fromincipient gout, and partly, I fancy, from a good deal of port wine. Hetook a vacant seat by me almost immediately, chiefly, I think, becauseit was the nearest seat; and avowing openly his great regard andadmiration for my neighbour, Mrs. Plumridge, proceeded to make himselfagreeable to both of us in his own way--though I am concerned to statethat he trod heavily on my _sprained_ foot, and spilt the greater partof a cup of coffee over _her_ satin gown. The Squire, whose nerves forthe present were strung above blushing pitch, soon joined our littleparty; and whilst the two Miss Bannerets performed an endless duet onAunt Horsingham's luckless pianoforte, and their brother, choking inhis stiff white neckcloth, turned over the leaves, Sir Brian banteredMr. Haycock gracefully on his abstemiousness after dinner, an effortof self-denial of which no one could accuse him, and vowed, with muchlaughter, that "Haycock must be in love! in love, Miss Coventry, don'tyou think so? A man that always used to take his two bottles asregularly as myself--I am a foe to excess, ladies, but Haycock's ananchorite, d---- me--a monk! Haycock! monks mustn't marry, youknow!--wouldn't he look well with his feet shaved, Miss Coventry, andhis head bare and a rope round his neck?" Sir Brian was gettingconfused, and had slightly transposed the clerical costume to which healluded; but was quite satisfied that his little badinage was wittyand amusing in the extreme. Indeed, Mrs. Plumridge and I couldn't helplaughing; but poor Squire Haycock's embarrassment was so intense thathe ordered his carriage immediately, and took leave, venturing, however, at the very last, to shake me by the hand, and braving onceagain the banter of the inebriated Baronet. 

"Stole away, " said Sir Brian; "a shy man, Miss Coventry--a shy, diffident man, my friend Haycock, but true as steel--not a betterlandlord in the county--excellent neighbour--useful magistrate--goodhouse--beautiful garden--lots of poultry, and a glass beehive--wantsnothing but a wife--order the carriage, my lady. --Mrs. Plumridge, youmust come and see us at Slopperly, and don't forget to bringPlumridge. --Miss Coventry, you're a charming young lady; mind you cometoo. " So jolly Sir Brian wished us both a most affectionategood-night, and, shaking Aunt Horsingham violently by both hands, packed himself into his carriage in a state of high good-humour andconfusion. I have since heard that on his arrival at Slopperly hestoutly refused to get out, declaring that he preferred to "sit in thecarriage whilst they changed horses, " and avowing, much to his oldbutler's astonishment, his resolution to go "at least one more stagethat night. "

CHAPTER XI. 

I must despair of being able in simple narrative to convey theremotest idea of the dullness of Dangerfield Hall; but as during myresidence there I beguiled the weary hours by keeping a diary (boundin blue velvet, with brass clasps and a Bramah lock), I have it in mypower, by transcribing a few of its pages, to present to my readers myown impressions of life in that well-regulated establishment. I putthings down just as they happened, with my own reflections, more orless philosophical, on the events of each day. My literary labourswere invariably carried on after the family had retired for the night;and I may observe that a loose white dressing-gown, trimmed withMechlin lace and pink ribbons--one's hair, of course, being "takendown"--is a costume extremely well adapted to the efforts ofcomposition. I take a day from the diary at random. 

_Thursday_. --Up at half-past seven; peeped in the glass the instant Iwas out of bed, and wondered how Cousin Amelia looks when she wakes. Yellowish, I should think, and by no means captivating, particularlyif she wears a nightcap. I don't care how ugly a woman is, she has noright to look anything but _fresh_ in the morning; and yet how fewpossess this advantage! Nothing like open air and plenty of exercise;_saving_ one's complexion is undoubtedly the very way to spoil it. SawBrilliant and White Stockings going to exercise in the Park. Whatcoddles they look on these fine autumn mornings, covered withclothing! Felt very _keen_ about hunting; the same feeling alwayscomes on at the fall of the leaf; shouldn't wonder if I could jump agate, with my present nerves. Should like once in my life to _plant_ afield of horsemen, and show these gentlemen how a woman _can_ ride. Interrupted in my daydreams by Lady Horsingham's bell, and huddled onmy things in a tremendous hurry; forced to wash my hands in _cold_water, which made the tips of my fingers as red as radishes for therest of the day. Got down to prayers by half-past eight, and took AuntDeborah her tea and toast from the breakfast-table at nine. 

Breakfast dull, and most of the party cross: Aunt Horsingham isgenerally out of humour at breakfast-time, particularly on Sundays. Cousin Amelia suggested my towels were too coarse: "they had rubbed acolour into my cheeks like a dairymaid's. " John said I looked like arose--a tea-rose, he added, as I handed him his cup. Cousin John isgetting quite poetical, and decidedly improved since he left London. Iwonder whom he got that letter from that was lying on his plate whenhe came down. I am _not_ curious, but I just glanced at the direction, and I am certain it was in a lady's hand. Not that it's any businessof mine; only I should think Miss Molasses would hardly have the faceto _write_ to him. I wonder whether there is anything between John andMiss Molasses. I asked him, half spitefully, the other day how hecould bear to be parted from her now the season was over; and heseemed so pleased at my taking an interest in the thing at all that Ihad no patience to go on with my cross-questioning. I don't thinkshe's good enough for John, I must confess; but he is easily imposedon by young ladies--as indeed, for that matter, are the rest of hisgreat thick-headed sex. When breakfast was over and Cousin Amelia wentoff as usual to practise her music for an hour or two, I thought Imight steal away for a visit to my favourites in the stable; indeed Isaw John at the front door in a hideous wide-awake, with a long cigarin his mouth. But I was waylaid by Aunt Horsingham; and as thesevisits to the stable are strictly forbidden, I was obliged to followher into the drawing-room, and resign myself for the whole morning tothat dreadful worsted-work, more especially as it was coming on adrizzling mist, and there was no pretext for my usual walk. 

"I am glad to see you getting more sociable, Kate, " said LadyHorsingham, in her dry, harsh voice, as I took a seat beside her andopened my work-basket. "It is never advisable for any young lady toaffect singularity, and I have observed with some concern that yourdemeanour on many occasions is very unlike that of the rest of yoursex. "

I never give in to Aunt Horsingham--after all she's not _my own_aunt--so I answered as pertly as ever I could:

"No: you mean I don't spend the morning in looking in the glass andtalking evil of my neighbours; I don't scream when I see a beetle, orgo into convulsions because there's a mouse in the room. I've got twolegs, very good legs, Aunt Horsingham--shall I show you them?--and Ilike to use them, and to be out of doors amongst the trees and thegrass and the daisies, instead of counting stitches for work thatnobody wants or writing letters that nobody reads. I had rather giveBrilliant a good 'bucketing' (Aunt Horsingham shuddered; I knew shewould, and used the word on purpose) over an open heath or a line ofgrass than go bodkin in a chariot, seven miles an hour, and bothwindows up. Thank you, Aunt Horsingham; you would like to make a finelady of me--a useless, sickly, lackadaisical being instead of ahealthy, active, light-hearted woman. Much obliged to you; I hadrather stay as I am. "

"Miss Coventry, " said my aunt, who was completely posed by myvolubility, and apparently shocked beyond the power of expression atmy opinions--"Miss Coventry, " she repeated, "if these are indeed yoursentiments, I must beg--nay, I must insist--on your keeping them toyourself whilst under _this_ roof. --Amelia, my dear" (to my cousin, who was gliding quietly into the room)--"Amelia, go back to your musicfor ten minutes. --I must insist, Miss Coventry, that you do notinoculate _my_ daughter with these pernicious doctrines--this mistakenview of the whole duties and essentials of your sex. Do you think_men_ appreciate a woman who, if she had but a beard, would be exactlylike one of themselves? Do you think they like to see their ideal hotand dishevelled, plastered with mud, and draggled with wet? Do youthink they wish her to be strong and independent of them, and perhapstheir superior at those very sports and exercises on which they plumethemselves? Do you think they are to be taken by storm, and, so tospeak, bullied into admiration? You're wrong, Kate, you're wrong; andI believe I am equally wrong to talk to you in this strain, inasmuchas the admiration of the other sex ought to be the last thing covetedor thought of by a young person of yours. "

"I'm sure, aunt, I don't want the men to admire me, " I replied; "but Iwould not give much for the admiration of one who could be jealous ofme for so paltry a cause as my riding better than himself; and as forideals, I don't know much about such things, but I think a man's idealmay do pretty well what she likes, and he is sure to think everythingshe _does_ do is perfect. Besides, I don't see why I should _bully_him into liking me because I'm fond of the beautiful 'out of doors'instead of the fireside. And courageous women, like courageous men, are generally a deal more gentle than the timid ones. I've knownladies who would not venture into a carriage or a boat who could wagea war of words bitterer than the veriest trooper would have at hiscommand; and I've heard Cousin John say that there is scarcely aninstance of a veritable heroine in history, from Joan of Arcdownwards, who was not in her private life as sweet, as gentle, and aswomanly as she was high-couraged and undaunted when the moment camethat summoned her energies to the encounter. Unselfishness is thecause in both cases, you may depend. People that are always sodreadfully afraid something is going to happen to them think a greatdeal more of self than anything else; and the same cause which makesthem tremble at imaginary danger for their own sakes will make themforgetful of real sufferings in which they themselves have no share. Ihad rather be a hoyden, Aunt Horsingham, and go on in my own way. Ihave much more enjoyment; and, upon my word, I don't think I'm one bita worse member of society than if I was the most delicate fine ladythat ever fainted away at the overpowering smell of a rose leaf or themerry peal of a noisy child's laugh. "

My aunt lifted up her hands and gave in, for the return of CousinAmelia from the music-room effectually prevented further discussion;and we beguiled the time till luncheon by alternate fits of scandaland work, running through the characters of most of the neighbourswithin twenty miles, and completely demolishing the reputation of _my_friend, as they called her--lively, sarcastic little Mrs. Plumridge. John was off rabbit-shooting, so of course he did not appear at thatmeal so essential to ladies; and after Cousin Amelia, by way of beingdelicate, had got through two cutlets, the best part of a chicken, aplateful of rice-pudding, and a large glass of sherry, I ventured topropose to her that if the afternoon held up we should have a walk. 

"I'm not equal to much fatigue, " said she, with a languid air and aheavy look about her eyes which I attributed to the luncheon; "but ifyou like we'll go to the garden and the hothouses, and be back in timefor a cup of tea at five o'clock. "

"Anything to get out of the house, " was my reply, and forthwith Irushed upstairs, two steps at a time, to put on my things; whilst myaunt whispered to her daughter, loud enough for me to hear, "Shereally ought to have been a man, Emmy; did you ever see such a hoydenin your life?"

It was pleasant to get out even into that formal garden. The day wassoft and misty, such as one often finds it towards the close ofautumn--dark without being chill--and the withered leaves strewed theearth in all the beauty of wholesome natural decay. Autumn makes somepeople miserable; I confess it is the time of year that I like best. Spring makes me cross if it's bad weather, and melancholy if it'sfine. Summer is very enjoyable certainly, but it has a luxuriance ofsplendour that weighs down my spirits; and in those glorious hot, dreamy haymaking days I seem unable to identify myself sufficientlywith all the beauty around me, and to pine for I don't exactly knowwhat. Winter is charming when it don't freeze, with its earlycandle-light and long evenings; but autumn combines everything that tome is most delightful--the joys of reality and the pleasures ofanticipation. Cousin Amelia don't think so at all. 

"A nasty raw day, Kate, " she remarked as we emerged from the hothouseinto the moist, heavy air. "How I hate the country! except whilst thestrawberries are ripe. Let's go back to the house, and read with ourfeet on the fender till tea-time. "

"Not yet, Emmy, " I pleaded, for I really pined for a good walk; "let'sgo on the highroad as far as the milestone--it's market day atMuddlebury, and we shall see the tipsy farmers riding home and thecarriers' carts with their queer-looking loads; besides, think what acolour you'll have for dinner. Come on, there's a dear!"

The last argument was unanswerable; and Cousin Amelia putting her bestfoot foremost, we soon cleared the garden and the approach, andemerged on the highroad three miles from Muddlebury, and well out ofthe sight of the windows of Dangerfield Hall. As we rose the hill, onthe top of which is perched the well-known milestone, and my cousinbegan already to complain of fatigue, the sound of hoofs behind uscaused us both to stop and look round. 

"It's cavalry, " said Amelia, who jumps rather rapidly to conclusions, and is no judge of a horse. 

"It's a stud, " was my reply; "somebody coming to hunt with 'theHeavy-top. ' Let's stand in this gateway and see them pass. " We took upa position accordingly; and if I felt keen about the commencement ofthe season previously, how much more so did I become to watch thestring of gallant well-bred horses now jogging quietly towards us withall the paraphernalia and accessories of the chase!

Two, four, six, and a hack, all clothed and hooded, and packed fortravelling. Such a chestnut in the van, with a minute boy on him, whocannot have weighed four stone; strong, flat, sinewy legs (thechestnut's, not the boy's), hocks and thighs clean, full, and muscularas Brilliant's, only twice the size; a long, square tail, and a wickedeye. How I _should_ like to ride that chestnut! Then a brown and twobays, one of the latter scarcely big enough for a hunter, to my fancy, but apparently as thoroughbred as Eclipse; then a gray, who seemed tohave a strong objection to being led, and who held back and dragged athis rein in a most provoking manner; and lastly, by the side of abrown hack that I fancied I had seen before, a beautiful black horse, the very impersonation of strength, symmetry, courage, speed, and allthat a horse should be. 

"Ask the groom whose they are, " whispered Amelia as he went by. "Idon't quite like to speak to him; he looks an impudent fellow withthose dark whiskers. "

I should like to see the whiskers that would frighten _me_; so Istepped boldly out into the road, and accosted him at once. 

"Whose horses are those, my man?" I asked, with my most commandingair. 

"Captain Lovell's, miss, " was the reply. My heart jumped into mymouth, and you might have knocked me down with a feather. 

"Captain Lovell's!" exclaimed Amelia; "why, that's your old flirt, Kate. I see it all now. " But I hardly heard her, and when I looked upthe horses were a mile off, and we were retracing our steps towardsDangerfield Hall. 

What a happy day this has been, and how unpromising was its beginning!And yet I don't know why I should have been so happy. After all, thereis nothing extraordinary in Captain Lovell's sending down a stud ofhorses to hunt with so favourite a pack as "the Heavy-top" hounds. Iwish I had summoned courage to ask the man when his master was comingand where he was going to stay; but I really couldn't do it--no, notif my life depended on it. All the way home Cousin Amelia laughed andsneered and chattered, and once she acknowledged I was "thebest-tempered girl in the world;" but I am sure I have not an idea whyI deserve this character. Her words fell perfectly unheeded on my ear. I was glad to get to the solitude of my own room, when it was time todress for dinner, that I might have the luxury, if it was only forfive minutes, of _thinking_ undisturbed. But there was Aunt Deborah tobe attended to; for poor Aunt Deborah, I am sorry to say, is by nomeans well. And Gertrude came in "to do my hair;" and then thedinner-bell rang, and the wearisome meal, and the long evening draggedon in their accustomed monotony. But I did not find it as dull asusual, though I was more rejoiced than ever when the hand-candles cameand we were dismissed to go to bed. 

And now they are all fast asleep, and I can sit at my open window andthink, think, think as much as I like. What a lovely night it is! Themist has cleared off, and the moat is glistening in the moonlight, andthe old trees are silvered over and blackened alternately by itsbeams; the church tower stands out massively against the sky. How darkthe old belfry looks on such a night as this, contrasting with thewhite tombstones in the churchyard, and the slated roof shimmeringabove the aisle! There is a faint breeze sighing amongst the fewremaining leaves, now rising into a pleading whisper, now dying awaywith a sad, unearthly moan. The deer are moving restlessly about thePark, now standing out in bold relief on some open space brightened bythe moonlight, now flitting like spectres athwart the shade. Everything breathes of romance and illusion; and I do believe it isvery bad for one to be watching here, dreaming wide awake, instead ofsnoring healthily in bed. I wonder what he is about at this moment. Perhaps smoking a cigar out of doors, and enjoying this beautifulnight. I wonder what he is thinking of. Perhaps, after all, he'sstewed up in some lamplit drawing-room talking nonsense to LadyScapegrace and Mrs. Lumley, or playing that odious whist at his club. Well, I suppose I may as well go to bed. One more look into the night, and then--hark! what is it? how beautiful, how charming! Distant musicfrom the wood at the low end of the Park. The deer are all listening, and now they troop down towards the noise in scores. How softly itdies away and rises again! 'Tis a cornet-à-piston, I think, and thoughnot very skilfully played it sounds heavenly by moonlight. I neverthought that old air of "You'll Remember Me" half so beautiful before. Who can it be? I have never heard it since I came here. It can't beCaptain Lovell's groom; it's not quite impossible it might be CaptainLovell himself. Ah, if I thought that! Well, it has ceased now. I mayas well go to bed. What a happy day this has been, and what dreams Ishall have!

CHAPTER XII. 

_Friday. _--This has been an eventful day. I thought somehow it wouldbe so; at all events, the first day's hunting is always an era tome--so when I came down to breakfast in my riding-habit, and bravedthe cold glances of my aunt and the sarcasms of my cousin, I wasprepared for a certain amount of excitement, although, I confess, Idid not bargain for quite so much as I got. 

"You'll enjoy yourself to-day, I trust, Miss Coventry, " said AuntHorsingham, looking as black as thunder. 

"Mind you don't get a fall, " observed Cousin Amelia with a sneer; butI cared little for their remarks and remonstrances. White Stockingswas at the door, Cousin John ready to lift me into my saddle, and Ienvied no mortal woman on earth, no not our gracious Queen upon thethrone, when I found myself fairly mounted, and jogging gently downthe park in all the delightful anticipation of a good day's sport. Ithink I would rather have ridden Brilliant of the two, but Johnsuggested that the country was cramped and sticky, with small fieldsand blind fences. Now, White Stockings is an animal of greatcircumspection, and allows no earthly consideration to hurry him. Heis, moreover, as strong as a dray-horse, and as handy, so Johndeclares, "as a fiddle. " To him, therefore, was entrusted the honourof carrying me on my first appearance with the Heavy-top hounds. Themeet was at no great distance from Dangerfield Hall, and being thebeginning of the season, and a favourite place, there was aconsiderable muster of the _élite_ of the county, and a goodly show ofvery respectable horses to grace the covert side. As we rode up to themounted assemblage, I perceived, by the glance of curiosity, not tosay admiration, directed at myself and White Stockings, that ladieswere unusual visitors in that field, and that the Heavy-top gentlemenwere not prepared to be cut _down_, at all events by _a woman_. CousinJohn seems to know them all and to be a universal favourite. 

"Who's the lady, John, my boy?" whispered a fat squire in a purplegarment, with a face to match; "good seat on a horse, eh? rides like abird, I'll warrant her. " I did not catch John's answer; but thecorpulent sportsman nodded, and smiled, and winked, and wheezed out, "Lucky dog--pretty cousin--double harness. "

I don't know what he meant; but that it was something intenselyludicrous I gather from his nearly choking with laughter at his ownconcluding observation, though John blushed and looked rather like afool. 

"Who's that girl on the chestnut?" I again heard asked by aslang-looking man with red whiskers meeting under his chin; "lookslike a larker--I must get introduced to her, " added the conceitedbrute. How I hated him! If he had ventured to speak to me, I reallythink I could have struck him over the face with my riding-whip. 

"I told you it would not be long before we met, Miss Coventry, " said awell-known voice beside me; and turning round, I shook hands withCaptain Lovell; and I am ashamed to confess, shook all over into thebargain. I am always a little nervous the first day of the season. Howwell he looked in his red coat and neat appointments, with hisgraceful seat upon a horse, and so high-bred, amongst all the countrysquires and jolly yeomen that surrounded us! He had more colour toothan when in London, and altogether I thought I had never seen himlooking so handsome. The chestnut with the wicked eye, showing off hisfine shape, now divested of clothing, curvetted and bent to hisrider's hand as if he thoroughly enjoyed that light restraining touch:the pair looked what the gentlemen call "all over like going, " and Iam sure one of them thought so too. 

"I saw your horses on their way to Muddlebury yesterday, " I at lengthfound courage to say. "Are you going to hunt all the season with theHeavy-top?"

"How long do you stay at Dangerfield?" was the counter question fromFrank; "you see I know the name of the place already; I believe Icould find my way now about the Park; very picturesque it is too bynight, Miss Coventry. Do you like music by moonlight?"

"Not if it's played out of tune, " I answered with a laugh and a blush;but just then Squire Haycock, whom I scarcely knew in his huntingcostume, rode up to us, and begged as a personal favour to himselfthat we would accompany him to a particular point, from which he couldensure us a good start if the fox went away--his face becoming scarletas he expressed a hope "Miss Coventry would not allow her fondness forthe chase to lead her into unnecessary danger;" whilst Frank looked athim with a half-amused, half-puzzled expression that seemed to say, "What a queer creature you are; and what the deuce can that matter toyou?"

I wonder why people always want to oblige you when you don't want tobe obliged; "too civil by half" is much more in the way than "not halfcivil enough. " So we rode on with Squire Haycock, and took up aposition at the end of the wood that commanded a view of the wholeproceedings, and, as Frank whispered to me, was "the likeliest placein the world if we wanted to head the fox. "

The Heavy-top hounds are an establishment such as, I am given tounderstand, is not usually kept in Leicestershire, Northamptonshire, and other so-called "flying counties. " I like to gain all theinformation I can--Cousin John calls this thirst for knowledge, "female curiosity"--and gather from him that the Heavy-top consists oftwenty-two couples of hunting hounds, and that the whole twenty-twocome out three times a week during the season. I don't see why theyshouldn't, I'm sure; they look very fat, and remind me of the otterhounds poor Uncle Horace used to keep when I was a child. He (that'smy oracle, Cousin John) further adds that they are remarkably"steady"--which is more than can be said of their huntsman, who isconstantly drunk--and that they consume a vast quantity of "flesh, "which, far from being a meritorious, appears to me a disgustingtendency. They are capital "line-hunters, " so says John; a"line-hunter, " I imagine, is a hound that keeps snuffing about underthe horses' feet, and must be a most useful auxiliary, when, as isoften the case, the sportsmen are standing on the identical spot wherethe fox has crossed. He considers them a very "killing" pack, not inmanners or appearance certainly, but in perseverance and undyingdetermination. Their huntsman is what is called "one of the old sort. "If this is a correct description, I can only say that "the old sort"must have worn the brownest and shabbiest of boots, the oldest ofcoats, and the greasiest of caps; must have smelt of brandy on alloccasions, and lived in a besotted state of general confusion, vibrating between "delirium audacious" and "delirium tremens. " Theyhave, however, a certain whip called "Will, " who appears to me to doall the work, and to keep everything right. When old Tippler drinkshimself to death (a casualty which must shortly happen), Will ispretty sure to succeed him--an event which I fancy will greatly add tothe efficiency of the Heavy-top hounds. To crown all, Frank Lovelldubs the whole thing "slow;" but I have remarked gentlemen make use ofthis epithet to convey their disapproval of that which they cannotfind any positive fault with--just as we ladies call a woman "badstyle" when we have nothing else to say in her disparagement. 

"Gone away!" exclaims Squire Haycock, lifting his cap high above hisred head; "yonder he goes! Don't you see him, Miss Coventry, nowwhisking under the gate?"

"Forward, forward!" holloas Frank, giving vent to his excitement inone of those prolonged screams that proclaim how the astonishedsportsman has actually seen the fox with his own eyes. The nextinstant he is through the hand-gate at the end of the ride, and risingin his stirrups, with the wicked chestnut held hard by the head, isspeeding away over the adjoining pasture, alongside of the two orthree couples of leading hounds that have just emerged from thecovert. Ah! we are all forgotten now; women, children, everything islost in that first delirious five minutes when the hounds are reallyaway. Frank was gazing at me a minute ago as if his very life was atmy disposal, and now he is speeding away a field ahead of me, anddon't care whether I break my neck following him or not. But this isno time for such thoughts as these; the drunken huntsman is soundinghis horn in our rear. Will, the whip, cap in hand, is bringing up thebody of the pack. Squire Haycock holds the gate open for me to pass, Cousin John goes by me like a flash of lightning; White Stockings witha loose rein, submits to be kicked along at any pace I like to askhim. The fence at the end of the field is nothing; I shall go exactlywhere Frank did. My blood thrills with ecstasy in my veins: moment ofmoments! I have got a capital start, and we are in for a run. 

As I sit here in my armchair and dressing-gown, I see the wholepanorama of to-day passing once more before my eyes. I see that dark, wet, ploughed field, with the white hounds slipping noiselessly overits furrowed surface. I can almost perceive the fresh, wholesome smellof the newly-turned earth. I see the ragged, overgrown, stragglingfence at the far end, glistening with morning dew, and green withformidable briers. I see Frank Lovell's chestnut rising at the weakestplace, the rider sitting well back, his spurs and stirrup-ironsshining in the sun; I see Squire Haycock's square scarlet back, as hediverges to a well-known corner for some friendly egress; I hearCousin John's voice shouting, "Give him his head, Kate!" As WhiteStockings and I rapidly approach the leap, my horse relapses of hisown accord into a trot, points his small ears, crashes into the verymiddle of the fence, and just as I give myself up for lost, makes asecond bound that settles me once more in the saddle, and landsgallantly in the adjoining field, Frank looking back over his shoulderin evident anxiety and admiration, whilst John's cheery voice, withits "Bravo, Kate!" rings in my delighted ears. We three are nownearest the hounds, a long strip of rushy meadow-land before us, thepack streaming along the side of a high, thick hedge that bounds it onour left; the south wind fans my face and lifts my hair as I slackenmy horse's rein and urge him to his speed. I am alongside of Frank. Icould ride anywhere now, or do anything. I pass him with a smile and ajest. I am the foremost with the chase. What is ten years of commonlife, one's feet upon the fender, compared to five such golden minutesas these? The hounds stop suddenly, and after scattering and spreadingthemselves into the form of an open fan, look up in my face with anair of mute bewilderment. The huntsman and the field come up, thegentlemen in a high state of delight and confusion; but Mr. Tippler inthe worst of humours, and muttering as he trots off to a corner of themeadow with the pack about his horse's heels, --

"Rode 'em slap off the scent--drove 'em to a check--wish she was athome and abed and asleep, and be d----d to her!"

A grim old lady who has but one eye, and answers to the name of"Jezebel, " has threaded the fence, and proclaims in anything but asweet voice to her comrades, that she has discovered the line of ourfox. They join her in an instant, down go their heads in concert, andaway we all speed again, through an open gate, across a wide common, into a strip of plantation, over a stile and foot-board that leads outof it, and I find myself once more following Captain Lovell withCousin John alongside of me, and all the rest far, far behind. This isindeed glorious. I should like it to go on till dinnertime. How I hopewe shan't kill the fox!

"Take hold of his head, Kate, " says my cousin, whose horse has justblundered on to his nose through a gap. "Even White Stockings won'tlast for ever, and this is going to be something out of the common. "

"Forward!" is my reply as I point with my whip towards the lesseningpack, now a whole field ahead of us. "Forward!" If we hadn't beengoing such a pace I could have sung for joy. 

There is a line of pollarded willow trees down in that hollow, and thehounds have already left these behind them; they are rising theopposite ground. Again Frank Lovell looks anxiously back at me, butmakes no sign. 

"We _must_ have it, Kate!" says John; "there's your best place, underthe tree; send him at it as hard as he can lay legs to the ground. "

I ply my whip and loosen my reins in vain. White Stockings stops deadshort, and lowers his nose to the water, as if he wanted to drink; allof a sudden the stream is behind me, and with a flounder and astruggle we are safe over the brook. Not so Cousin John; I see him onhis legs on the bank, with his horse's head lying helplessly betweenhis feet, the rest of that valuable animal being completely submerged. 

"Go along, Kate!" he shouts encouragingly, and again I speed afterFrank Lovell, who is by this time nearly a quarter of a mile ahead ofme, and at least that distance behind the hounds. White Stockings isgoing very pleasantly, but the ground is now entirely on the rise, andhe indulges occasionally in a trot without any hint on my part; thefences fortunately get weaker and weaker; the fields are covered withstones, and are light, good galloping enough, but the rise getssteeper every yard; round hills are closing in about us; we are now onthe Downs, and the pack is still fleeting ahead, like a body of houndsin a dream, every moment increasing their distance from us, and makingthem more and more indistinct. Frank Lovell disappears over the browof that hill, and I urge White Stockings to overtake my onlycompanion. He don't seem to go much faster for all that. I strike himonce or twice with my light riding-whip; I shake my reins, and hecomes back into a trot; I rise in my stirrup and rouse his energies inevery way I can think of. I am afraid he must be ill, the trotdegenerates to a jog, a walk; he carries his head further out from himthan is his wont, and treats curb and snaffle with a like disregardand callousness of mouth. Now he stops altogether, and catching a sideview of his head his eye appears to me more prominent than usual, andthe whole animal seems changed, till I can hardly fancy it is my ownhorse. I get a little frightened now, and look round for assistance. Iam quite alone. Hounds, horsemen, all have disappeared; the wide, dreary, solitary Downs stretch around me, and I begin to havemisgivings as to how I am to get back to Dangerfield Hall. Cousin Johnhas explained it all to me since. 

"Nothing could be simpler, Kate, " said he this evening when I handedhim his tea; "you _stopped your horse_. If ladies _will_ go in frontwith a loose rein for five-and-forty minutes, 'riding jealous' of sucha first-rate performer as Frank Lovell, it is not an unlikely thing tohappen. If you could have lasted ten minutes longer, you would haveseen them kill their fox. Frank was the only one there, but he assuresme he could not have gone another hundred yards. Never mind, Kate, better luck next time!"

Well, to return to my day. After a while White Stockings began torecover himself. I'm sure I didn't know what to do with him. I gotoff, and loosened his girths as well as I could, and turned his headto the wind, and wiped his poor nose with my pocket-handkerchief. Ihadn't any eau-de-Cologne, and if I had it might not have done himmuch good. At last he got better, and I got on again (all my life I'vebeen used to mounting and dismounting without assistance). Thinkingdownhill must be the way home, downhill I turned him, and proceededslowly on, now running over in my own mind the glorious hour I hadjust spent, now wondering whether I should be lost and have to sleepamongst the Downs; and anon coming back to the old subject, andresolving that hunting was the only thing to live for, and that forthe future I would devote my whole time and energies to that pursuit. At last I got into a steep chalky lane, and at a turn a little fartheron espied to my great relief a red-coated back jogging leisurely home. White Stockings pricked his ears and mended his pace, so I soonovertook the returning sportsman, who proved to be no other thanSquire Haycock, thrown out like the rest of the Heavy-top gentlemen, and only too happy to take care of me, and show me the shortest way(eleven miles as the crow flies) back to Dangerfield Hall. 

We jogged on amicably enough, the Squire complimenting me much on myprowess, and not half so shy as usual--very often the case with adiffident man when on horseback. We were forced to go very slow, bothour horses being pretty well tired; and to make matters better, wewere caught in a tremendous hailstorm about two miles from home, justas it was getting dark, and close to the spot where our respectiveroads diverged. I could not possibly miss mine, as it was perfectlystraight. Ah! that hailstorm has a deal to answer for. We were forcedto turn through a hand-gate, and take shelter in a friendly wood. Whata ridiculous position, pitch dark, pelting with rain, an elderlygentleman and a young lady on horseback under a fir tree. The Squirehad been getting more incoherent for some time; I couldn't think whathe was driving at. 

"You like our country, Miss Coventry; fine climate, excellent soil, nice and dry for ladies?"

I willingly subscribed to all these advantages. 

"Good neighbourhood, " added the Squire; "capital hunting, charmingrides, wonderful scenery for sketching. Do you think you could live inthis part of the world?"

I thought I could if I was to try. 

"You expressed your approbation of my house, Miss Coventry, " theSquire proceeded, with his hand on my horse's neck; "do you think--Imean--should you consider--or rather I should say, is there anyalteration you would suggest--anything in my power--if you wouldcondescend to ride over any afternoon; may I consider you will so farfavour me?"

I said "I should be delighted, but that it had left off raining, andit was time for us to get home. "

"One word, Miss Coventry, " pleaded the Squire with a shaking voice. "Have I your permission to call upon Lady Horsingham to-morrow?"

I said I thought my aunt would be at home, and expressed my convictionthat she would be delighted to see him, and I wished him good-bye. 

"Good-bye, Miss Coventry, good-bye, " said the Squire, shaking handswith a squeeze that crushed my favourite ring into my prettiestfinger; "you have made me _the happiest of men_--good-bye!"

I saw it all in an instant, just as I see it now. The Squire means topropose for me to-morrow, and he thinks I have accepted him. What_shall_ I do? _Mrs. Haycock_--Kate Haycock--Catherine Haycock. No, Ican't make it look well, write it how I will; and then, to vow neverto think of any one else; I suppose I mightn't even _speak_ to Frank. Never, no, never; but what a scrape I have got into, and how I wishto-morrow was over!

CHAPTER XIII. 

My diary continued, --

_Saturday. _--Well, it is over at last; and upon my word I begin tothink I am capable of anything after all I have got through to-daysince breakfast. Scarcely had I finished the slice of toast and singlecup of tea that constitute my morning meal, before I heard the trampof a horse on the gravel in front of the house, followed by theominous sound of the door-bell. I have remarked that in all countryfamilies a ring at the door-bell brings everybody's heart intoeverybody's mouth. Aunt Horsingham, brooding over the teapot as usual, had been in her worst of humours ever since she came down, and triedto look as if no bell that ever was cast had power to move her grimresolve. 

"A message by electric telegraph, " exclaimed Cousin Amelia, who isalways anticipating some catastrophe; "no visitor would ever call atsuch a time. "

"Unless he came to propose for one of us, " suggested John, who wascarving a ham at the side-table. 

"Some one on business for _me_, probably, " remarked Aunt Horsingham, drawing herself up and looking more stately than usual. 

"Mr. Haycock!" announced the butler, throwing open the door with aflourish; and while all our untimely visitor's preparations, such aswiping his shoes, arranging his dress, etc. , were distinctly audibleoutside, we looked at each other in mute astonishment, and I own I_did_ feel the guilty one amongst the party. 

The Squire made his entrance in a state of intense trepidation. Havingbeen forcibly deprived of his white hat in the hall, he had nothingbut natural means to resort to for concealment of his confusion. Hadit not been for an enormous silk handkerchief (white spots on a yellowground) with which he blew his nose and wiped his brow at short andstartling intervals his condition would have been pitiable in theextreme. The "Squire's" dress too was of a more florid style than isusual in these days of sad-coloured attire. A bright blue neckcloth, well starched, and of great depth and volume; a buff waistcoat, withmassive gilt buttons; a grass-green riding-coat of peculiar shape andsomewhat scanty material; white cord trousers, York tan gaiters, andenormous double-soled shooting-shoes, pierced and strapped, andclamped and hobnailed, completing a _tout ensemble_ that almost upsetmy aunt's gravity, and made me, nervous as I felt, stuff mypocket-handkerchief into my mouth that I might not laugh outright. 

"Fine morning, Lady Horsingham, " observed the Squire, as if he hadcome all that distance at this early hour on purpose to impart sovaluable a piece of information--"fine morning, but cold, " herepeated, rubbing his hands together though the perspiration stood onhis brow. "I don't recollect a much finer morning at this time ofyear, " he resumed, addressing Cousin John after a pause, during whichhe had ceremoniously shaken hands with each of us in succession. 

"Will you have some breakfast?" asked Lady Horsingham, whose cold andformal demeanour contrasted strangely with the nervous excitement ofher visitor. 

"No, thank you--if you please, " answered the Squire in a breath. "Ibreakfasted before I left home. Early hours, Lady Horsingham--I thinkyour ladyship approves of early hours--but I'll ask for a cup of tea, if you please. " So he sat down to a weak cup of lukewarm tea with muchassumed gusto and satisfaction. 

It was now time for Cousin Amelia to turn her battery on the Squire;so she presently attacked him about his poultry and his garden and hisfarm, the honest gentleman's absent and inconsequent replies causingmy aunt and John to regard him with silent astonishment, as one whowas rapidly taking leave of his senses; whilst I who knew, or at leastguessed, the cause of his extraordinary behaviour began heartily towish myself back in Lowndes Street, and to wonder how this absurdscene was going to end. 

"Your dahlias must have suffered dreadfully from these early frosts, "said Cousin Amelia, shaking her ringlets at the poor man in what shefancies her most bewitching style. 

"Beautifully, " was the bewildered reply, "particularly theshorthorns. "

"You never sent us over the Alderney calf you promised, Mr. Haycock, "pursued the lady, now adroitly changing her ground. "I begin to thinkyou are not to be depended on. "

"You do me injustice, Miss Horsingham; indeed you do, " broke out theSquire in a white heat and with a deprecating glance at me. "I assureyou I sent over a very fine cutting, with a pot and everything, directions for matting it in winter and transplanting after a year. Ifyou never got it I'll discharge my gardener; I will, upon my word. "

"I have got such a Cochin China to show you, " persisted his tormentor, determined to renew the charge. "When you've finished breakfast I'lltake you to the poultry-yard if you like. "

"Delighted, " replied the Squire, looking ruefully around him as if hemeditated instant flight--"delighted, I'm sure; but they haven'tflowered well this year. I'll teach you how to bud them if you like;but you're aware, Miss Horsingham, that they've no smell. "

John could stand it no longer, and was forced to bolt out of the room. My aunt too rose from the table with something approaching a smile;and the Squire, screwing his courage to the sticking-place, wasfollowing her into the drawing-room, evidently for a privateinterview, when Cousin Amelia, who seemed to have made up her mind totake bodily possession of him, hurried the visitor off to thebilliard-room, there to engage in a match which would probably lasttill luncheon-time. I never saw anything so hopeless as the expressionof the victim's countenance whilst suffering himself to be thus ledinto captivity. He did summon courage to entreat "Miss Coventry tocome and mark"--a favour which, notwithstanding my cousin's blacklooks, I really had not the heart to refuse him. 

Game after game they played, the gentleman apparently abandoninghimself to his fate. Sprawling over the table, making the mostridiculous blunders in counting, missing the most palpable of cannons, and failing to effect the easiest of hazards; the lady brandishing hermace in the most becoming attitudes, drooping her long hair over thecushions, and displaying the whiteness of her hand and slendersymmetry of her fingers, as she requested her astonished adversary toteach her "how to make a bridge, " or "pocket the red, " or "screw itoff the white, " and lisped out "how hard it was to be disappointed bythat provoking kiss!" The Squire made one or two futile attempts toengage me in a game, but Cousin Amelia was determined to have him allto herself; and as it was getting near the time at which I take AuntDeborah her broth--for poor Aunt Deborah, I am sorry to say, is veryill in bed--I made my escape, and as I ran upstairs heard thebilliard-room bell ring, and Squire Haycock summon up courage to "knowif Lady Horsingham was at leisure, as he wished to see her for fiveminutes alone in the drawing-room. "

People may say what they like about superstition and credulity and oldwomen's tales, but I _have_ faith in presentiments. Didn't I get upfrom my work and walk to the window at least a dozen times to watchfor Cousin John coming home that wet day two years ago when he brokehis leg with the harriers, and yet he had only gone out for amorning's canter on the best horse he ever had in his life? Didn't Ifeel for eight-and-forty hours as if something too delightful wasgoing to happen to me the week that Brilliant was bought and senthome, looking like an angel in a horse's skin? That reminds me I nevergo to see him now; I hope I am not inconstant to my old friends. Andwhat was it but a presentiment that made my heart beat and my kneesknock together when I entered my own room to-day before luncheon andsaw a brown paper parcel on the table, addressed, evidently by theshop people, to "Miss Coventry, Dangerfield Hall"? How my fingerstrembled as I untied the thread and unfolded the paper; after all, itwas nothing but a packet of worsteds! To be sure, I hadn't ordered anyworsteds, but there might possibly be a note to explain; so I shookevery skein carefully, and turned the covering inside out, that thedocument, if there should be one, might not escape my vigilance. Howcould my presentiments deceive me? Of course there was a note--afterall, where was the harm? Captain Lovell had most politely sent me allthese worsteds for a cushion I had once talked about working, and verynaturally had enclosed a note to say so; and nothing to my mind couldbe kinder or more welcome than the contents. I am not going to saywhat they are, of course; though for that matter I easily could, sinceI have got the note by me at this moment, and have read it over to-daybesides more than once. After all, there is nothing like a letter. Whodoes not remember the first letter received in one's childish days, written in a fair round text for childish eyes, or perhaps even_printed_ by the kind and painstaking correspondent for the littledunce of a recipient. Who has not slept with such a letter carefullyhoarded away under the pillow, that morning's first light might givepositive assurance of the actual existence of our treasure. Nor is thelittle urchin the only glad supporter of our admirable postalinstitutions. Manly eyes moisten with tears of joy over those faintdelicate lines traced by _her_ hand whose gentle influence has foundthe _one_ soft place. Woman hides away in her bosom, close to herloving heart, the precious scrap which assures her, visibly, tangibly, unerringly, that he is hers and hers alone. Words may deceive, scenesof bliss pass away like a dream. Though ever present to the mind itrequires an effort to disentangle the realities of memory from theillusions of imagination; but a letter is proof positive; there it isin black and white. You may read it again and again; you may kiss itas often as you please; you may prize it and study it and pore overit, and find a new meaning in every fresh perusal, a hiddeninterpretation for every magic word. Nothing can unsay it, nothing candeprive you of it; only don't forget to lock it up carefully, and mindyou don't go leaving about your keys. 

I had hardly read my note over a second time before Cousin Ameliabounced into the room without knocking. I should have locked the doorhad I known she was coming; as it was, I had only time to pop the noteinto my dress (the seal made a great scratch just below my neck)before she was upon me, and throwing herself into my arms with a mostunusual excess of affections exclaimed, --

"Give me joy, Kate--give me joy--he's gone to mamma--he's in thedrawing-room with her now--O Kate, what shall I do?"

"My dear Amelia, " I exclaimed, as the delightful thought flashedacross me that, after all, the Squire's visit might have been for mycousin, though I must say I wondered at his taste, "am I tocongratulate you on being Mrs. Haycock? I do indeed from my heart. Iam sure he is an excellent, amiable man, and will make you a capitalhusband. "

"That he will!" exclaimed Cousin Amelia; "and such a nice place andgardens, and a very good fortune too. Upon my word, Kate, I begin tothink I'm a lucky girl, though to be sure with my advantages I mightexpect to make a good match. He's not so old, Kate, after all; atleast not so old as he looks; and he's very good-tempered, I know, because his servants say so. I shall alter that tumble-down house ofhis, and new-furnish the drawing-room. Of course he'll take me toLondon for two or three months every year in the season. I wonder ifhe knows about Mr. Johnson--not that I ever _cared_ for _him_--and, ofcourse, a poor curate like that one couldn't think of it. Do you know, Kate, I thought his manner was very _odd_ the other day when he dinedhere; though he sat next _you_ he kept looking at _me_, and I remarkedonce that he coloured up, oh! so red. Poor fellow, I see it all now. Kate, you shall be one of my bridesmaids--perhaps it will be _your_turn to be a bride some of these days; who knows!"

Just then Gertrude tapped at the door. 

"Miss Coventry, if you please, her ladyship wishes to see you in thedrawing-room. "

My cousin's face fell several inches. 

"Some mistake, Gertrude, " she exclaimed. "It's me isn't it, that mammawants?"

"Her ladyship bid me tell Miss Kate she wished to see her_immediately_, " was my maid's reply; so I tripped downstairs with abeating heart, and crossed the hall just in time to see Squire Haycockriding leisurely away from the house (though it was bitter cold and ahard frost, the first of the season), and looking up at the window, doubtless in hopes of an encouraging wave from the white handkerchiefof his _fiancée_ presumptive. 

Short as was the interval between my own door and that of thedrawing-room I had time to run over in my mind the whole advantagesand disadvantages of the flattering proposal which I was now convincedhad been made on my behalf. If I became Mrs. Haycock (and I sawclearly that I had not mistaken the Squire's meaning on our returnfrom hunting), I should be at the head of a handsome establishment, should have a good-tempered, easy-going, pleasant husband, who wouldlet me do just what I liked and hunt to my heart's content; shouldlive in the country, and look after the poor, and feed hens andchickens, and sink down comfortably into a contented old age. I neednot separate from Aunt Deborah, who would never be able to do withoutme; and I might, I am sure, turn the Squire with the greatest easeround my little finger. But then there certainly were greatobjections. I could have got over the colour of his hair, though a redhead opposite me every morning would undoubtedly be a trial; but thefreckles! No, I do not think I could do my duty as a wife by a man sodreadfully freckled. I'm certain I couldn't love him; and if I didn'tlove him I oughtn't to marry him, and I thought of the sad, sad taleof Lucy, Lady Horsingham, whose ghost was now in the nightly habit ofhaunting Dangerfield Hall. The struggles that poor thing must havegone through, the leaden hours of dull, torpid misery, the agonizingmoments of acute remorse, the perpetual spirit-wearing conflictbetween duty and inclination, much to the discomfiture of the former;and the haunting face of Cousin Edward continually rising on thatheated imagination, pleading, reproaching, suing till she loved him, if possibly more madly in his absence than when he was by her side. Itoo was beginning to have a "Cousin Edward" of my own; Frank Lovell'simage was far too often present in my mind. I did not choose toconfess to myself how much I liked him; but the more I reflected onMr. Haycock's proposal the more I felt how impossible it would benever to _think_ of Frank any more. 

"No!" I said inwardly, with my hand on the drawing-room door, "I will_not_ give him up. I have his note even now in my bosom; _he_ caresfor _me_, at any rate. I am happier to-day than I have been formonths, and I will _not_ go and destroy it all with my own hand. " Iopened the door, and found myself in the formidable presence of AuntHorsingham. 

Her ladyship looked colder and more reserved, if possible, than ever. She motioned me stiffly to take a chair, and plunged at once into thesubject in her dry, measured tones. 

"Before I congratulate you, Kate, " she began, "on such an unlooked-forpiece of good fortune as has just come to my knowledge, I am bound toconfess, much to my astonishment----"

"Thank you, aunt, " I put in; "that's complimentary, at any rate. "

"I should wish to say a few words, " proceeded my aunt, without heedingthe interruption, "on the duties which will now devolve upon you, andthe line of conduct which I should advise you to pursue in your newsphere. These hoydenish manners, these ridiculous expeditions, thesescampers all over the country, must be renounced forthwith. Unbecomingas they are in a young unmarried female, a much stricter sense ofdecorum, a vastly different repose and reserve of manner, areabsolutely essential in a wife; and it is as a _wife_, Kate, that I amnow addressing you. "

"A wife, aunt!" I exclaimed; "whose, I should like to know?"

"This is an ill-chosen time for jesting, Kate, " said my aunt with afrown. "I cannot congratulate you on your good taste in turning soimportant a subject into ridicule. Mr. Haycock has proposed to you;you have accepted him. Whilst poor Deborah is so ill I am your naturalguardian, and he has with great propriety requested my consent;although, in the agitation very natural to a man so circumstanced, "added my aunt, smothering a smile, "it was with some difficulty that Imade out exactly what he meant. "

"He _never_ proposed to me; I _never_ accepted him, " I broke in, breathless with agitation. "I never _will_ be his wife, aunt; you hadno right to tell him so. Write to him immediately--send a man off onhorseback to overtake him. I'll put my bonnet on this instant, andwalk every mile of the way myself. He's a true-hearted gentleman, andI won't have him made a fool of. " I walked up and down the room--Ilooked Aunt Horsingham full in the face; she was quite cowed by myvehemence. I felt I was mistress now, while the excitement lasted, andshe gave in; she even wrote a note to the Squire at my dictation--shedispatched it by a special messenger--she did everything I told her, and never so much as ventured on remonstrance or reproach; but shewill never forgive me to her dying hour. There is no victory socomplete as that which one obtains over a person who is alwaysaccustomed to meet with fear and obedience. Aunt Horsingham rules herhousehold with a rod of iron; nobody ever ventures to disagree withher, or so much as to hint an opinion contrary to those which she isknown to hold. Such a person is so astonished at resistance as to beincapable of quelling it; the very hardihood of the rebellion ensuresits success. When I walked out of the drawing-room to-day I felt thatfor once I had obtained the victory in a contest with my aunt; that infuture I should no longer be the "wild, troublesome Kate, " the "blacksheep" of the family, the scapegoat on whom were laid the faults andmisdemeanours of all, but the master-spirit, the bold, resolute woman, whose value others were able to appreciate, and who was ready andwilling to assert her own independence. In the meantime poor AuntDeborah had to be informed of what had taken place, and Cousin Ameliato be undeceived in her groundless expectations. That the latter wouldnever forgive me I was well enough acquainted with my own sex to beassured; but the task required to be done, notwithstanding. Flushedwith my triumph, with heightened colour and flashing eyes, I stalkedoff towards my chamber and met Cousin John in the hall. 

"Good heavens, Kate, what is the matter? What has happened?" exclaimedJohn in obvious perturbation. 

"A piece of news!" was my reply; "a conquest, John! What do you think?Mr. Haycock has just been here, and _proposed_ for me!"

He flushed up all over his face and temples, and then turned deadlypale; even his lips were quite white and wide apart. How they quiveredas he tried to speak unconcernedly! And after all he got out nothingbut, "Well, Kate?"

"And I have refused him, John, " I said quietly, but in a tone thatshowed him there was no mistake about it. 

"God bless you, Kate!" was all he replied, and turned away mutteringsomething about "wet things" and his "dressing-room;" but he was goingto the wrong door, and had to turn back, though he took care not tolet me see his face again. 

I can't make John out. At dinner he was just as if nothing hadhappened; but at all events I'm glad I've refused Mr. Haycock; so Ishall read Frank's note over once more and then go to bed. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

I need quote no more from my diary, as the next few days offered noincident worthy of recording to break the monotony of our life atDangerfield Hall. Drearier than ever it was, and more especially tome; for I felt that, although undeclared, there was "war to the knife"between myself, my aunt, and cousin. The latter scarcely spoke to meat all; and my aunt, whose defeat was rankling bitterly in her heart, merely took such sullen notice of me as was absolutely necessitated bythe laws of hospitality and the usages of society. Poor Aunt Deborahrequired to be kept very quiet and free from all worries andannoyances. "The more she slept, " the doctor said, "the sooner shewould get well enough to move to London for further advice;" so I hadnot even her to talk to--there was no hunting--the frost got harderand harder--that obstinate weather-cock over the stables kept veeringfrom north to north-east--the grooms went to exercise wrapped up ingreatcoats and shawl handkerchiefs, and stayed out as short a time aswas compatible with the mildest stable discipline; there would be nochange of the moon for a week, and it was obvious that I should havebut little use for Brilliant and White Stockings before our return totown. 

Oh! the hopelessness of a real bitter black frost coming on early inthe season, especially when you are not at your own home and your timeis limited; to get up morning after morning with the faint hope thatthe change may have come at last; to see the dry slates and the clearhorizon and the iron-bound earth, and to ascertain in your own properperson that the water gets colder and colder every day. You puzzleover the almanac till your eyes ache, and study the thermometer tillyou get a crick in your neck. You watch the smoke from every farmhouseand cottage within your ken, and still, after curling high up into thepure, rarefied atmosphere, it floats hopelessly away to the southwardand corroborates the odious dog-vane that you fondly imagined mighthave got stuck in its northerly direction. You walk out and ask everylabourer you meet whether he "does not think we are going to have achange?" The man looks up from his work, wonders at your solicitude, opines "the gentry folk have queer ways, " but answers honestly enough, according to his convictions, in the negative--perhaps giving somelocal reasons for his opinion, which, if an old man, he will tell youhe has never known to fail. Lastly, you quarrel with every one of yournon-hunting friends, whose unfeeling observations on "fine seasonableweather" and "healthy, bracing frosts" you feel to be brutal in theextreme. 

How I hated the frost at Dangerfield! My only chance of meeting withFrank Lovell was out hunting. I had written him an answer to his note(I have often heard Aunt Horsingham say that nothing is so inexcusableas not to answer a letter), and I had no possible means of deliveringit. I could not put it in the bag, for my aunt keeps the key. I didnot like to entrust it to any of the servants, and my own maid is thelast person in whose power I should choose to place myself. I did oncethink of asking Cousin John to give it to Frank, and throwing myselfon kind, good John's generosity, and confessing everything to him, andasking for his advice; but somehow I could not bring myself to it. Ifhe had been my brother, nothing would have been easier; but John isonly a cousin, and one or two little things of late had made mesuspect that he liked me even better than cousins generally do; soaltogether I thought I would leave it alone--besides, John was goingoff to shoot pheasants in Wales. The third morning of the frost hecame down to breakfast in a suit of wondrous apparel that I knew meanta move in some direction, and I attacked him accordingly. 

"Is that killing 'get-up' entirely for our benefit, John?" I asked;"or are you bound on some expedition that requires more fascinationsthan common?"

John coloured--he has taken to blushing lately. "I'm going down toWales for a few days' shooting, Kate, " was his reply. "I shall comeback again when the frost breaks up if Lady Horsingham will be goodenough to receive me. " Aunt Horsingham is always very civil to John, and so is Cousin Amelia. People generally are to young bachelors. Iwonder why men ever marry; they are so much more in request withoutwives and children. 

"Always happy to see _you_, " said Aunt Horsingham, with an emphasis onthe pronoun. "By-the-way, what is your address in Wales, that I mayforward your letters?"

John looked rather guilty as he handed an envelope to my aunt andbegged her to copy it exactly. 

"I can't pronounce the name of my friend Lloyd's place, " he said, "butyou'll find it written there in seven consonants and one vowel. "

"Lloyd!" said I--"Lloyd! Wasn't there a pretty Miss Lloyd you used todance with last season in London? John! John! I've found you out atlast. Now I can account for the splendour of your attire. Now I cansee why you post off to Wales in such a hurry, leaving your horses andyour hunting and your cousin, sir, for the _beaux yeux_ of MissFanny--isn't that her name? Well, John, I give you joy; she is apretty girl, even in London, and Aunt Deborah says she's a fortune. "

John looked so distressed I didn't like to pursue the subject. Icouldn't think what had come over him--he never spoke another word tome till he jumped into his dog-cart to be off, and then he onlymuttered "Goodbye, Kate" in a hoarse whisper, but he wrung my handvery hard, and I even thought there were tears in his eyes! He is agood fellow, John; I was sorry to think I might have said anything tohurt his feelings. 

After he went away it was drearier than ever. What could I do butthink of Frank Lovell, and wonder when I should see him again? Wherecould he be? Perhaps at the inn at Muddlebury. I could see the smokeof the town from the breakfast-room windows, and used to watch it witha painful interest. Every time a servant came into the room I thoughtsomething impossible was going to happen. If a carriage drove up tothe house--if a horse's tramp was heard in the approach--if thedoor-bell rung, I fancied it must be Captain Lovell coming tocall--perhaps to explain everything--possibly to request an interviewwith my aunt, such as Squire Haycock had undergone, "but, " as I saidto myself with a beating heart, "to have a very different result. " Ifthe dwelling solely on one idea be a species of madness, then was Iundoubtedly mad--nothing was so wild and extravagant as to appearimpossible to my heated fancy. I was always expecting and alwaysdisappointed. 

The fourth morning I got a letter from Mrs. Lumley, which did not addmuch to my composure or comfort. Why is it ladies have such a knack ofmaking each other miserable equally by letter as by word of mouth? Igive the epistle of Mrs. Lumley verbatim, omitting only the dashes andnotes of admiration with which it was studded:--

 "MY DEAREST DEAR KATE, --Here we are settled at Brighton, much to the benefit of my poor, dear husband, whom you have never seen, but who knows you well by name, and have everything, even the weather, all we can wish. The only drawback to me is the loss of your charming society and the absence of your dear, merry face. 

 "I am leading a highly virtuous and praiseworthy life, and have not done the least bit of mischief since I came here, except making the Dean's wife jealous, which I can hardly call a crime, as she is a vulgar little woman with a red nose and a yellow bonnet--the Dean is a fat, good-natured man, and calls here nearly every day. His wife abuses me in all societies, and tries to pass me without speaking. You know how I always return good for evil, so I go up and shake hands with her, and ask after her dear children, and patronize her till I make her so angry she don't know which way to look--it's rather good fun in such a slow place as this. My time is fully occupied nursing 'my old man, ' who was very ill before we came here, and can only go out in a pony-carriage for an hour or two at a time; so I have brought the ponies down and drive him myself. 

 "The only chance the brown mare has of a gallop is in the mornings, though next week I mean to have a day with the harriers; indeed, they have appointed them at a good place on purpose for me. I inspected the regiment of Dragoons quartered here yesterday morning; they were at exercise on the Downs, and as the Gitana (my brown mare) always behaves well with troops, which my enemies would affirm is more than can be said of her mistress, I am able to report upon their general appearance and efficiency. Such a set of 'gigs, ' my dear, I never saw in my life; large underbred horses, and not a good-looking man amongst them. The officers are, if possible, more hideous than the privates; and they never give balls or theatricals or anything, so we need waste no more words upon them. 

 "I am improving my mind, though, vastly, picking up shells for my little cousins, and perfecting my education besides by learning to swim. I wish you were here--what fun we would have enacting the part of mermaids! though I fear the cold will now put a stop to my aquatic exploits. The other morning I swam nearly two hundred yards on a stretch; and the tide having taken me out of my reckoning, I brought up, as the sailors say, opposite the gentlemen's bathing-machines. What could I do? It was as impossible to walk along the beach as to fight back against the current. Presence of mind, Kate, is the salient point of the heroic character; the door of a machine was open, and I popped in. My dear, there were all his clothes, his hair-brush, his button-hook, his wig, and, would you believe it? an instrument for curling his whiskers! I put everything on except the wig, crowned myself with his broad-brimmed white hat, felt in his pockets, which were full of gold and silver, and, to my credit be it said, only selected one shilling, with which I paid the bathing-man, and walked off undiscovered to my own machine. The fat old she-triton laughed till she cried. I dressed in my proper costume leisurely enough, and was amused to hear afterwards of the luckless plight in which a stout gentleman had found himself by the temporary loss of all his apparel whilst he was disporting in 'the briny. '

 "Other adventures I have had none; and the contrast is, as you may believe, somewhat striking after the last two or three weeks of the London season--always, to my mind, the pleasantest part of the year. I was sorry you left town when you did; we had such a number of charming little dinners and expeditions in our own set. Dear Frank Lovell was the life and soul of us all. I never knew him in such spirits--quite like a boy out of school; and there were few days that we did not meet either at Greenwich or Richmond, or Windsor or Vauxhall; and of course wherever _he_ went there was Lady Scapegrace. I must say that, although nobody can accuse me of being a prude, the way she goes on with Frank is rather too brazen-faced even for _her_--taking him everywhere in her carriage, setting him down at his club after the opera, walking with him in Kensington Gardens, his cab always at the door, and her ladyship 'not at home' even to me. To be sure, he is almost as bad, if it is true, as everybody says it is, that he is to marry Miss Molasses. 

 "Poor Frank! he must get hold of somebody with money, or he will soon be in the Bench. He is rather a friend of yours, my dear, so I ought not to abuse him; but he is _very wild_, and though extremely agreeable, I am afraid utterly unprincipled. I do not believe, however, that he cares one snap of the fingers for Lady Scapegrace, or Miss Molasses either, for the matter of that. I meant to have written you a long letter; but my stupid servants have let the Dean in, and I hear his cough at this moment on the stairs--he is sadly out of wind before he reaches the first landing. I think even my poor 'old man' would beat him at even weights a hundred yards along the beach. As I shall not get rid of him under an hour, and the post will by that time be gone out, I must wish you good-bye. --Ever my dearest Kate's most affectionate

 "M. L. "

I threw the letter on the floor, and stamped upon it with my feet. Andwas this the end of all? To have brooded and pined, and made myselfmiserable and well-nigh broken my heart day by day for a man that wasto prove so utterly unworthy as this! To have been thrown over for aLady Scapegrace! or, worse still, to have allowed even to myself thatI cared for one who was ready and willing to be sold to a MissMolasses. 

"Too degrading!" I thought. "No, I'll never care for him again; thedream is over. What a fool I've been! And yet--why did he send hishorses down to Muddlebury? Why did he serenade me that night from thePark? Why is he not now with his dear Lady Scapegrace at Scamperly, where I see by the _Morning Post_ Sir Guy is 'entertaining a party offashionables during the frost'? No! I will not give him up quite yet. "

On reading her letter over again, which I did many times during theday, I found a ray of comfort in my voluble correspondent's ownopinion that Frank did not himself care a pin for either of theladies, to both of whom the world gave him so unhesitatingly. Well, that was something, at any rate. As for his wildness and his debts, and his recklessness and many escapades, I liked him none the worsefor these--what woman ever did? I thought it all over during the wholeday, and by the time that I opened my window for my usual lookout intothe night before going to bed, I am afraid I felt more inclined thanever to forgive him all that had gone before, and more determined tofind some means of forwarding him the answer I had written to hisnote, and which I had been so many times on the point of burningduring the day. 

What a bitter cold night it was!--yet the keen north wind feltpleasant and refreshing on my fevered forehead. There had been asprinkling of snow too since sunset, and the open surface of the Parkwas completely whitened over--how cheerless and desolate it looked! Ihadn't the heart to stay very long at the window; it reminded me toomuch of the pleasant evenings one short week ago. I felt weary anddesponding, and drowsy with uncertainty and unhappiness, so I was inthe act of shutting down the window, when I saw a dark figure movingrapidly across the snow in the direction of the house. Not for aninstant did I mistake it for a deer, or a gamekeeper, or a poacher, ora housebreaker. From the moment I set eyes on it, something told me itmust be Frank Lovell; and though I shrunk back that he might not seeme, I watched him with painful anxiety and a beating heart. He seemedto know his way quite well. He came straight to the moat, felt his waycautiously for a step or two, and finding the ice would bear him, crossed at once, and took up a position under my window, not twentyfeet from where I was standing. 

He must have seen my shadow across the candle-light, for he whisperedmy name. 

"Miss Coventry--Kate! Only one word. " What could I do? Poor fellow! hehad walked all that distance in the cold and the snow only for oneword--and this was the man I had been doubting and misjudging all day!Why, of course, though I know it was very wrong and very improper andall that, of course I spoke to him, and listened to what he had tosay, and carried on a long conversation, the effect of which wassomewhat ludicrous, in consequence of the distance between theparties, question and answer requiring to be _shouted_, as it were, ina whisper. The night too was clouding over, more snow was falling, andit was getting so dark I could not see Frank, even at the distance oftwelve or fourteen feet, and it could not have been much more betweenmy bedroom window and the ground. 

"Did you get my note?" said he with sundry complimentary expressions. 

"Here's the answer, " was my practical reply, as I dropped my ownmissive into the darkness. 

I know he caught it, because--because--_I heard him kiss it_. At thatmoment I was aware of a step in the passage, a hand on my door. Downwent my window in a twinkling, out went my candles--the wick of thesecond one would keep glimmering like a light far off at sea--and incame Aunt Horsingham, clad in flannel attire, with a wondroushead-dress, the like of which I have never beheld before or since, just as I popped into bed, and buried myself beneath the clothes as ifI had been asleep for hours. 

"Where can it be, Kate?" said my aunt. "I have been in every roomalong the passage to find out where the light comes from. I saw itdistinctly from my own room, streaming across the moat; there might bethieves in the house, " added my aunt, looking valiant even in flannel, "or some of the men-servants carousing, but I have been in every roomon the ground floor myself; and then I thought perhaps you might besitting up reading. "

"Reading, aunt? Oh dear, no! I assure you I wasn't reading, " Ianswered, every nerve racked with suspense, lest Frank should getimpatient and wonder what had become of me--perhaps throw a snowballup at the window to attract my attention. 

"What o'clock is it?" I added with a feigned yawn. "I think I musthave been asleep for hours. "

As if to punish me for this gratuitous perversion of the truth, thewords were hardly out of my mouth when I heard a loud crack on theice, and a splash as of the sudden immersion of some daringadventurer; then all was still--the snow-flakes fell softly againstthe window panes. My aunt, shading her candle with her long hand, talked drowsily on; and finally persisted in my coming to sleep withher in her own room, as she said I was "the only person in the housethat had the nerves of a hen. " I would have given all I was worth inthe world to have one more look out of the open window, though eventhen it might be too late. I would willingly have walked barefoot inthe snow all the way to Muddlebury, only to know he was safe back atthe inn. For a moment I thought of confessing everything and alarmingthe house, but I had _not_ courage; so I followed my aunt to her room, and lay awake that livelong night in such a state of agony andsuspense as I hope I may never have to endure again. 

CHAPTER XV. 

It may easily be believed that I took an early walk next morningbefore breakfast. No sooner had I made my escape from AuntHorsingham's room, than, in utter defiance of the cold thaw justcommencing, I put my bonnet on and made the best of my way to themoat. Sure enough, large fragments of ice were floating about wherethe surface had been broken, close to the side farthest from the Hall. There were footprints on the snow though, leading away through thePark in the direction of Muddlebury, and I came back to breakfast witha heart lightened of at least half its load. We were to return toLondon immediately. Aunt Deborah, pale and reduced, but undoubtedlybetter, was able to appear at breakfast, and Lady Horsingham, now thatwe were really about to take leave of her, seemed to value oursociety, and to be sorry to part with us. 

"My dear Deborah, I trust you are well wrapped up for this cold rawday, " said our hostess, pressing on her departing guest all kinds ofprovision for the journey. "I have ordered them to put up a paper ofsandwiches and some sherry, and a few biscuits and a bottle ofpeppermint-water. "

"And, Aunt Deborah, " put in Cousin Amelia, "here's a comforter I'vemade you myself, and a box of cayenne lozenges for your throat; anddon't forget the stone jug of hot water for your poor feet; and mindyou write directly you arrive--you or Kate, " she added, turning toaddress me almost for the first time since the memorable mistake aboutSquire Haycock. 

Aunt Deborah was completely overpowered by so much kindness. 

"You'd better have the carriage all to yourself--you and your maid, "persisted Lady Horsingham. "I'll drive Kate as far as the station inthe pony-carriage. --Kate, you're not afraid to trust yourself with mein the pony-carriage?"

"Not I, indeed, aunt, " was my reply, "nor with anybody else, for thatmatter. I've pretty good nerves--there are few things that I am afraidof. "

"Indeed, Kate, I fear it is so, " was my aunt's reply. "I own I shouldlike to see you a little more of a coward. "

So it was settled that Aunt Deborah and Gertrude being safely packedup in the close carriage, I should accompany Lady Horsingham, who wasrather proud of her charioteering skill, and drove stiff and upright, as if she had swallowed the poker--never looking to the right or left, or allowing her attention to wander for an instant from the ponies shehad undertaken to control. 

Now, these said ponies had been doing nothing during the frost exceptconsuming their three feeds a day with vigorous appetite and aconsiderable accession of high spirits. Consequently they were, whatis termed in stable language, very much "above themselves"--a state ofself-exaltation which they demonstrated by sundry unbecoming squeaksand gambols as soon as they found themselves fairly started on theirjourney. Tiny, the youngest and handsomest, would persist in shying, plunging, and swerving against the pole, much to the demoralization ofhis comrade, Mouse, a stiff-built little fellow with a thick neck, whowas ordinarily extremely well-behaved, but apt on occasions like thepresent to lower his rebellious little head and defy all control. 

Lady Horsingham was tolerably courageous, but totally destitute ofwhat is termed "hand, " a quality as necessary in driving as in riding, particularly with fractious or high-spirited horses. The seat of apony-carriage, besides, is not a position from which a Jehu has muchcommand over the animals in front of him; and although, as I haverepeatedly said, I am not nervous, I had earned sufficient experiencein the ways of the equine race to know that we might easily be placedin a position of some peril should anything occur to excite themischievous propensities of either of the specimens now gambollingbefore us. More accidents have happened out of pony-carriages than allother descriptions of vehicle put together. 

It is said that in the olden and golden days of the road the usualdeath of a "long coachman" was to be pitched out of a gig; anddoubtless that two-wheeled conveniency, particularly when going at anypace, is capable of arriving at a large proportion of grief. But evena gig, if properly constructed, admits of the driver having a certainamount of control over his horse; he is well above the animal, and canget a good purchase to pull him up from, when the acceleration isbecoming dangerous, or there is a tendency to the grosserinsubordination of a "kicking match. " Not so in a pony-carriage: lowdown upon the ground, even under their very heels, you are completelyat the mercy of your team; and the facility of egress in the event ofa runaway only tempts you to the fatal expedient of jumpingout--another form of expression for "certain death. "

To be sure, if people will but sit still, there is no reason why theyshould be much alarmed, as an "upset" from so low an elevation neednot necessarily produce any very serious results. But they never_will_ sit still--at least they won't in nine cases out of ten, andthe consequence is that whilst newspaper columns are filled with"horrid accidents" and "frightful occurrences, " based on the fact ofthe "unfortunate sufferer taking an airing in his or herpony-carriage, " many an elderly lady and cautious gentleman is not tobe persuaded into entering one of these little conveyances, butprefers the slow and sure travelling of his or her own respectablefeet. 

Well, Lady Horsingham seemed rather uncomfortable on her driving-seat, although far too proud to acknowledge so derogatory a feeling. We hadno servant with us; and when I suggested that we might as well takeone of the stablemen to open the gates, my proposal was met withderision and contempt. 

"I should have thought such a masculine lady as yourself, Kate, wouldhave been above requiring any assistance. I am always in the habit ofdriving these ponies quite by myself; but of course, if _you'reafraid_, I'll have a groom to go with us immediately. "

_Afraid_, indeed! I scouted the idea: my blood was up, and I almosthoped something would happen, that I might fling the word in my aunt'steeth, and ask her, "Who's _afraid_ now?" It came sooner than Ibargained for. 

The ponies were pulling hard, and had got their mouths so thoroughlyset against my aunt's iron hand, that she might as well have beendriving with a pair of halters for any power she had over them, when arush of colts in an adjoining paddock on one side of the lane, and acovey of partridges "whirring up" out of a turnip-field on the other, started them both at the same moment. My aunt gave a slight scream, clutched at her reins with a jerk; down went the ponies' heads, and wewere off, as hard as ever they could lay legs to the ground, along adeep-rutted narrow lane, with innumerable twistings and turnings infront of us, for a certainty, and the off-chance of a wagon and bellteam blocking up the whole passage before we could emerge upon thehigh road. 

"Lay hold, Kate!" vociferated my aunt, pulling for her very life, withthe veins on her bare wrists swelling up like whipcord. "Graciousgoodness! can't you stop 'em? There's a gravel-pit not half a milefarther on! I'll jump out! I'll jump out!"

My aunt began kicking her feet clear of the sundry wraps and shawls, and the leather apron that kept our knees warm, though I must do herthe justice to say that she still tugged hard at the reins. I saw suchan expedient would be certain death, and I wound one arm round herwaist, and held her forcibly down in her seat, while with the other Iendeavoured to assist her in the hopeless task of stopping the runawayponies. Everything was against us: the ground was slightly on thedecline; the thaw had not yet reached the sheltered road we weretravelling, and the wheels rung against its frozen surface as theyspun round with a velocity that seemed to add to the excitement of ourflying steeds. Ever and anon we bounded and bumped over some rut orinequality that was deeper than usual. Twice we were within an inch ofthe ditch; once, for an awful hundred yards, we were balancing on twowheels; and still we went faster and faster than ever. The trees andhedges wheeled by us; the gravel road streamed away behind us. I beganto get giddy and to lose my strength. I could hardly hope to hold myaunt in much longer, and now she began to struggle frightfully, for wewere nearing the gravel-pit turn! Ahead of us was a comfortable fatfarmer, jogging drowsily to market in his gig. I can see his broad, well-to-do back now. What would I have given to be seated, I hadalmost said _enthroned_, by his side? What a smash if we had touchedhim! I pulled frantically at the off-rein, and we just cleared hiswheel. He said something; I could not make out what. I was nearlyexhausted, and shut my eyes, resigning myself to my fate, but stillclinging to my aunt. I think that if ever that austere woman was nearfainting it was on this occasion. I just caught a glimpse of herwhite, stony face and fixed eyes; her terror even gave me a certainconfidence. A figure in front of us commenced gesticulating andshouting and waving its hat. The ponies slackened their pace, and mycourage began to revive. 

"Sit still, " I exclaimed to my aunt as I indulged them with a goodstrong "give-and-take" pull. 

The gravel-pit corner was close at hand, but the figure had seized therefractory little steeds by their heads, and though I shook all over, and felt really frightened now the danger was past, I knew that wewere safe, and that we owed our safety to a tall, ragged cripple witha crutch and a bandage over one eye. 

My aunt jumped out in a twinkling, and the instant she touched _terrafirma_ put her hand to her side, and began to sob and gasp and pant, as ladies will previous to an attack of what the doctors call"hysteria. " She leant upon the cripple's shoulder, and I observed astrange, roguish sparkle in his unbandaged eye. Moreover, I remarkedthat his hands were white and clean, and his figure, if he hadn't beensuch a cripple, would have been tall and active. 

"What shall I do?" gasped my aunt. "I won't get in; nothing shallinduce me to get in again. Kate, give this good man half a crown. Whata providential escape! He ought to have a sovereign. Perhaps tenshillings will be enough. How am I to get back? I'll walk all the wayrather than get in. "

"But, aunt, " I suggested, "at any rate I must get to the station. AuntDeborah is sure to think something has happened, and she ought not tobe frightened till she gets stronger. How far is it to the station? Ithink I should not mind driving the ponies on. "

In the meantime the fat farmer whom we had passed so rapidly hadarrived at the scene of action, his anxiety not having induced him inthe slightest degree to increase the jog-trot pace at which all hisideas seemed to travel. He knew Lady Horsingham quite well, and nowsat in his gig with his hat off, wiping his fat face, and expatiatingon the narrow escape her ladyship had made, but without offering theslightest suggestion or assistance whatever. 

At this juncture the cripple showed himself a man of energy. 

"Your ladyship had best go home with this gentleman, " said he, indicating the fat farmer, "if the young lady is not afraid to go on. I can take care of her as far as the railway, if it's not too great aliberty, and bring the ponies back to the Hall afterwards, my lady?"with an interrogative snatch at his ragged hat. 

It seemed the best thing to be done under the circumstances. My aunt, after much demurring and another incipient attack of the hysterics, consented to entrust herself to the fat farmer's guidance, not, however, until she was assured that his horse was both blind andbroken-winded. I put Mouse's bridle down on the lower bar instead ofthe cheek, on which he had previously been driven. My aunt climbedinto the gig; I mounted the pony-carriage, the cripple took his seatdeferentially by my side, and away we went on our respective journeys;certainly in a mode which we had little anticipated when we left thefront door at Dangerfield Hall. 

My preserver sat half in and half out of the carriage, leaning hiswhite, well-shaped hand upon the splashboard. The bandaged side of hisface was towards me. The ponies went quietly enough; they had enjoyedtheir gallop, and were, I think, a little blown. I had leisure to takea good survey of my companion. When we had thus travelled for aquarter of a mile in silence he turned his face towards me. We lookedat each other for about half a minute, and then both burst outlaughing. 

"You didn't know me, Miss Coventry! not the least in the world, "exclaimed the cripple, pulling the bandage off his face, and showinganother eye quite as handsome as the one that had previously beenuncovered. 

"How could you do so, Captain Lovell?" was all I could reply. "Conceive if my aunt had found you out, or even if any one shouldrecognize you now. What would people think of _me_? But how did youknow we were going to London to-day, and how could you tell the ponieswould run away?"

"Never mind how I knew your movements, Miss Coventry, " was the reply. "Kate! may I call you Kate? it's such a soft, sweet name, " he added, now sitting altogether _inside_ the carriage, which certainly was asmall one for two people. "You don't know how I've watched for you, and waited and prowled about, during the last few days. You don't knowhow anxious I've been only for one word--even one look. I've spenthours out on the Down just to see the flutter of your white dress asyou went through the shrubbery--even at that distance it was somethingto gaze at you and know you were there. Last night I crossed the iceunder your window. "

"You did indeed!" I replied with a laugh; "and what a ducking you musthave got!"

Frank laughed too, and resumed. "I was sadly afraid that your auntmight have found out you were holding a parley with the enemy outsidethe walls. I knew you were to go to London to-day. I thought verylikely you might be annoyed, and put under surveillance on my account, and I was resolved to see you, if only for one moment; so I borrowedthese ragged garments of a professional beggar, who I believe is agreat deal better off in reality than myself, and I determined towatch for your carriage and trust to chance for a word, or even aglance of recognition. She has befriended me more than I could expect. At first, when I saw 'Aunt Deborah' alone in the chariot, it flashedacross me that perhaps you were to stay _en penitence_ at Dangerfield. But I knew Lady Horsingham had a pony-carriage. I also knew--or whatwould be the use of servants?--that it was ordered this morning; so Istumped gaily along the road, thinking that at all events I might havean opportunity of saying three words to you at the station whilst theservants were putting the luggage on, and the dear aunts, who Ipresume cherish a mutual hatred, were wishing each other a tenderfarewell. But that such a chance as this runaway should befriend mewas more than I ever dared to hope for, and that I should be sittingnext _you_, Kate (and _so close_, I'm sure he might have added), inLady Horsingham's pony-phaeton is a piece of good luck that in mywildest moments I never so much as dreamt of. We scarcely ever meetnow. There--you needn't drive so fast; the up-train don't go by tillthe half-hour, and every minute is precious, at least to _me_. We arekept sadly apart, Kate. If you can bear it, I can't. I should like tobe near you always--always to watch over you and worship you. Confoundthat pony! he's off again. "

Sure enough, Tiny was indulging in more vagaries, as if he meditated asecond fit of rebellion; and what with holding him and humouringMouse, and keeping my head down so as to hide my face from Frank, forI didn't want him to see how I was blushing, I am sure I had enough todo. 

"Kate, you must really have pity on me, " pursued Frank. "You don'tknow how miserable I am sometimes (I wonder what he wanted me tosay?), or how happy you have it in your power to make me. Here we areat that cursed station, and my dream is over. I must be the crippleand the beggar once more--a beggar I am indeed, Kate, without youraffection. When shall we meet again, and where?"

"In London, " was all I could answer. 

"And you won't forget me, Kate?" pleaded poor Frank, looking sohandsome, poor fellow. 

"_Never_, " I replied, and before I knew how it was, I found myselfstanding on the platform with Aunt Deborah and the servants and theluggage. The great green engine was panting and gasping in front ofme, but ponies and pony-carriage and cripple had all vanished like adream. 

As we steamed on to London I sometimes thought it _was_ a dream, notaltogether a pleasant one, nor yet exactly the reverse. I should haveliked my admirer to have been a little more explicit. It is all verywell to talk of being miserable and desperate, and to ring the changesof meeting and parting, and looks and sighs, and all that; but afterall the real question is, "Will you?" or "Won't you?" and I don'tthink a man is acting very fairly towards a girl who don't put thecase in that way at once before he allows himself to run intorhapsodies about his feelings and his sufferings and such matters, which, after all, lead to nothing, or at least to nothingsatisfactory. To be sure, men are strange creatures, and upon my wordI sometimes think they are more troubled with shyness than our ownsex. Perhaps it's their diffidence that makes them hesitate so, and, as it were, "beat about the bush, " when they have only got to "flushthe bird" and shoot it at once and put it in the game-bag. Perhapsit's their pride for fear of being refused. Now, I think it's far morecreditable to a man to wear the willow, and take to _men dinners_ andbrandy-and-water for a month or six weeks, than to break a girl'sheart for a whole year; and I know it takes nearly that time for awell-brought-up young lady to get over a _real_ matrimonialdisappointment. However, shy or not shy, they certainly ought to beexplicit. It's too bad to miss a chance because we cannot interpretthe metaphor in which some bashful swain thinks it decorous to couchhis proposals; and I once knew a young lady who, happening to dislikeneedlework, and replying in the negative to the insidious question, "Can you sew a button?" never knew for months that she had actuallydeclined a man she was really fond of, with large black whiskers, andtwo-and-twenty hundred a year. Women can't be too cautious. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

I was not sorry to be once again fairly settled in Lowndes Street. Even in the winter London has its charms. People don't watcheverything you do or carp at everything you say. If there is moreapparent constraint, there is more real liberty than in the country. Besides, you have so much society, and everybody is so much pleasanterin the metropolis during December than July. The frost had set inagain harder than ever. Brilliant and White Stockings, like"Speir-Adam's steeds, " were compelled to "bide in stall. " John waslingering at the Lloyds or elsewhere in the Principality, thoughexpected back every day. Aunt Deborah was still weak, and had onlyjust sufficient energy to forbid Captain Lovell the house, and insiston my never speaking to him. I can't think what she had found out orwhat Aunt Horsingham had told her; but this I know, that if ever Ihave a daughter, and I don't want her to like Mr. Dash, or to becontinually thinking about him, I shall not forbid her to speak tohim; nor shall I take every opportunity of impressing on her that heis wild, unprincipled, reckless, and dissipated, and that the onlyredeeming points about him are his agreeable conversation and his goodlooks. Altogether, I should have been somewhat dull had it not beenfor Mrs. Lumley; but of that vivacious lady I saw a good deal, and Iconfess took a far greater pleasure in her society than on our firstacquaintance I should have esteemed possible. When I am ill at easewith myself, not thoroughly satisfied with my own conduct, I alwayslike the society of _fast_ people; their liberality of sentiment andgeneral carelessness of demeanour convey no tacit reproach on my ownwant of restraint, and I feel more at home with them than with suchsevere moralists as Aunt Horsingham or hypocritical Cousin Amelia. SoI drove and shopped and visited with Mrs. Lumley--nay, I was evenpermitted as a great favour to dine with her on one or two occasions, Aunt Deborah only stipulating that there should be no male addition tothe party except Mr. Lumley himself, or, as the lady of the housetermed him, "her old man. "

I confess I liked the "old man, " and so I think in her own way did hiswife. Why she married him I cannot think, more particularly as he hadnot then succeeded to the comfortable fortune they now enjoy: he waslittle, old, ugly, decrepit, and an invalid, but he was good natureand contentment personified. I believe he had great talents--for allhis want of physical beauty he had a fine head--but these talents werewholly and unsparingly devoted to one pursuit: he was an entomologist. With a black beetle and a microscope he was happy for the day. Pilesupon piles of manuscripts had he written upon the forms andclassification of the bluebottle fly. He could tell you how many legsare flourished by the house-spider, and was thoroughly versed in theanatomy of the common gnat. This pursuit, or science as he called it, engrossed his whole attention. It was fortunate he had such anabsorbing occupation, inasmuch as his general debility prevented hisentering into any amusement out of doors. His wife and he seemed tounderstand each other perfectly. 

"My dear, " he would say when listening to some escapade that it wouldhave been scarcely prudent to trust to most husbands' ears, "I neverinterfere with your butterflies, and you never trouble yourself aboutmine. I must, however, do myself the justice to observe that you gettired of your insects infinitely the soonest of the two. "

He never inquired where she went or what she did, but late or earlyalways received her with the same quiet welcome, the same sly, good-humoured smile. I firmly believe that with all her levity, whatever scandal might say, she was a good wife to him. He trusted herimplicitly; and I think she felt his confidence deserved to berespected. Such was not the opinion of the world, I am well aware; butwe all know the charitable construction it is so eager to put on afair face with a loud laugh and a good set of teeth. Dear me! if helooked for a lady that had never been _talked about_, Cæsar might havesearched London for a wife in vain. Good Mr. Lumley professed a greataffection for me, and would occasionally favour me with long andtechnical dissertations on the interior economy of the flea, forexample; and once in the fullness of his heart confided to his wifethat "Miss Coventry was really a _dear_ girl; it's my belief, Madge, that if she'd been a man she'd have been a naturalist. " These littledinners were indeed vastly agreeable. Nobody had such a comfortablehouse or such a good cook or so many pretty things as Mrs. Lumley. Her"old man" seemed to enjoy the relaxation of ladies' society after hismorning labours and researches. With me he was good-humoured and fullof fun; at his wife's jokes and stories, most of them somewhatscandalous, he would laugh till he cried. 

"I'm responsible for you, Miss Coventry, " he would say with a slylaugh. "You're not fit to be trusted with Madge; upon my life, Ibelieve she is the wildest of the two. If you won't have the carriage, I must walk back with you myself. --How far is it, Madge? Do you thinkI can _stay the distance_, as you sporting people term it in yourinexplicable jargon?"

"Why, you know you can't get a hundred yards, you foolish old man, "laughed his wife. "A nice chaperon you'd make for Kate. Why, she'dhave to carry you, and you know you'd tumble off even then. No, no;you and I will stay comfortably here by the fire, and I'll give youyour tea and put you tidily to bed. I shan't be home any other nightthis week. Kate has a convoy coming for her;--haven't you, Kate?--_Lebeau cousin_ will take the best possible care of us; and even primAunt Deborah won't object to our walking back with _him_. I believe hecame up from Wales on purpose. What would somebody else give to takethe charge off his hands?--You needn't blush, Kate; I can see througha millstone as far as my neighbours. I'm not quite such a fool as Ilook;--am I, 'old man'?--There's the doorbell. --John, ask Mr. Jones ifhe won't step up and have some tea. " We were sitting by a blazing firein the boudoir, a snug and beautiful little room, to which no one wasadmitted but the lady's especial favourites; even the "old man" neverentered it during the day. 

"Mr. Jones's compliments, and he hopes you'll excuse him, ma'am, " wasthe footman's answer on his return; "but it's very late, and hepromised to bring Miss Coventry back by eleven. "

"Well, I'm sure, " said Mrs. Lumley, "if I was you, Kate, I shouldn'tstand his anticipating his authority in this way. Never mind; be agood girl, and do as you're bid--pop your bonnet on. Shall I lend youan extra shawl? There, you may give my 'old man' a kiss, if you like. Bless him! he's gone fast asleep. Good-night, Kate; mind you come toluncheon to-morrow, there's a dear. " So saying, Mrs. Lumley bid me amost affectionate farewell; and I found myself leaning on John's arm, to walk home through the clear frosty night. 

I do like perambulating London streets by gaslight--of course with agentleman to take care of one. It is so much pleasanter than beingstewed up in a brougham. How I wish it was the fashion for people totake their bonnets out to dinner with them, and walk back in the coolfresh air! If it is delightful even in winter, how much more so in thehot summer nights of the season! Your spirits rise and your nervesbrace themselves as you inhale the midnight air, with all its smokyparticles, pure by comparison with that which has just been poisoningyou in a crowded drawing-room. Your cavalier asks leave to indulge inhis "weed, " and you enjoy its fragrance at second-hand as he puffscontentedly away and chats on in that prosy, confidential sort ofmanner which no _man_ ever succeeds in assuming, save with a cigar inhis mouth. John lit his, of course, but was less communicative, to myfancy, than usual. After asking me if I had "enjoyed a pleasantevening, " and whether "I _preferred_ walking, " he relapsed into asomewhat constrained silence. I too walked on without speaking. Muchas I love the night, it always makes me rather melancholy; and I daresay we should have got to Lowndes Street without exchanging asyllable, had not some imp of mischief prompted me to cross-examine mycousin a little upon his _séjour_ in Wales, and to quiz him halfspitefully on his supposed _penchant_ for pretty Fanny Lloyd. John_rose_ freely in a moment. 

"I know where you pick up all this nonsense, Kate, " he burst out quitesavagely; "I know where half the scandal and half the mischief inLondon originates! With that odious woman whose house we have justquitted, whose tongue cannot be still for a single moment; who neverby any chance speaks a word of truth, and who is seldom so happy aswhen she is making mischief. I pity that poor decrepit husband ofhers, though he ought to keep her in better order; yet it _is_ a hardcase upon any man to be tied to such a Jezebel as _that_. "

"The Jezebel, as you call her, John, " I interposed quietly, "is mymost intimate friend. "

"That's exactly what I complain of, " urged my cousin; "that's my greatobjection to her, Kate; that's one of the things that I do believe aredriving me out of my senses day by day. You know I don't wish you toassociate with her; you know that I object extremely to your beingseen everywhere in her company. But you don't care: the more Iexpostulate the more obstinate and wilful you seem to become. "

It is my turn to be angry now. 

"Obstinate and wilful indeed!" I repeated, drawing myself up. "Ishould like to know what right you have to apply such terms to _me_!Who gave _you_ authority to choose my society for me, or to determinewhere I shall go or what I shall do? You presume on your relationship, John; you take an ungenerous advantage of the regard and affectionwhich I have always entertained for you. "

John was mollified in an instant. 

"_Do_ you entertain regard and affection for me, Kate?" said he; "doyou value my good opinion and consider me as your dearest and bestfriend?"

"Of course I do, John, " was my reply. "Haven't we known each otherfrom childhood, and are you not like a brother to me?"

John's face fell a little and his voice shook as he spoke. "Am I neverto be more than a brother to you--never to obtain a greater interestin you, a larger share of your regard than I have now? Listen to me, Kate; I have something to tell you, and I can put it off no longer. This delay, this uncertainty day by day, I do believe will drive memad. Kate, I promised Aunt Deborah faithfully that I would never enteron this subject till you came of age, and you know by your father'swill you don't come of age till you're five-and-twenty. 'By that time, John, ' said my aunt, 'Kate will have seen plenty of others, and be oldenough to know her own mind. If she takes you then, she takes you withher eyes open, and she won't get tired of you and find out she likessome one else better. Promise me, John, that you'll wait till then. 'And I did promise, Kate; but I can't keep my word--I can't wait inthis state of anxiety and uncertainty, and perhaps lose you after all. It's too great a stake to play for if one is to be kept so long insuspense, and I have resolved to be put out of my pain one way or theother. "

John paused. I had never seen him so excited before. He was quite hot, though the night was keen and frosty; his arm trembled as mine leantupon it; and though his cigar was gone out, he kept puffing away, utterly unconscious of the fact. He seemed to expect an answer. Ihesitated; I did not know what to reply. I had got so accustomed toCousin John that I never looked upon him in any other light than thatof a favourite brother, a constant companion and friend. Moreover, Iwas not prepared to take any such decisive step as that to which henow seemed to be urging me. There is a great difference between_liking_ people and giving them power of life and death over one forthe rest of one's days. I will not say that the image of another didnot rise before me in all its winning beauty as I had seen it last, scarcely one short week ago. Altogether I did not know what to say; soI wisely said nothing, but walked on, looking straight before me, withan uncomfortable feeling that I was driven into a corner, and shouldere long be compelled to do that which is always distasteful to ourliberty-loving sex--namely, to "make up my mind. "

John too walked on for a few paces in silence. We were at the cornerof Lowndes Street. There was not a soul to be seen but our two selves. All at once he stopped short under the light of a lamp and looked mefull in the face. 

"Kate, " said he, in a grave, deliberate voice, "you know what Imean--Yes or No?"

I shook like a leaf. What would I have given to have been able to takecounsel of one of my own sex--Mrs. Lumley, Aunt Deborah, or even cold, pitiless Lady Horsingham! But I had to choose for myself. I felt thatthe turning-point of my destiny had arrived--that the game was in myown hand, and that now I ought to decide one way or the other. Ishrank from the responsibility. Like a very woman, I adopted a middlecourse. 

"Give me time, John, " I pleaded--"give me time to weigh matters overin my own mind. This is an affair that equally concerns the happinessof each of us. Do not let us decide in a hurry. Aunt Deborah was quiteright: her wishes ought to be my law. When I am five-and-twenty itwill be soon enough to enter on this subject again. In the interval, believe me, John, I have the greatest regard and esteem for you. "

"Nothing more, Kate, " said John, looking as if he didn't know whetherhe was pleased or annoyed--"nothing but _esteem_?"

"Well, I mustn't say any more, " was my reply; "but you know you have_that_. "

John's face brightened considerably. "And in the meantime, Kate, " heurged, "you won't allow yourself to be entangled with any one else?"

"Of course not, " was my vigorous disclaimer; and by this time we hadarrived at my aunt's door, and it was time to say good-night. 

"What's the matter, Kate?" exclaimed Mrs. Lumley, when I called tolunch with her the following day, according to promise. "You look paleand worried. For goodness' sake tell me what has happened. Have youfound out _the rover_ transferring his adoration to Miss Molasses? ordid _mon cousin_ take advantage of the hour and the opportunity tolecture us last night on our love of admiration and general levity ofconduct? Tell me all about it, dear. We shan't be disturbed. I'm not'at home' to a soul; and my old man is busy dissecting an earwig, sohe's quite safe till dinner-time. Sit you down on the sofa, out withyour pocket-handkerchief, and make a clean breast of it!"

I told her the whole of my conversation with my cousin the previousnight, only suppressing the unflattering opinions he had thought fitto express of my present _confidante_. "And oh, Mrs. Lumley, " Iexclaimed as I concluded, "how could I sleep a wink last night, withall this to harass and reproach me? No wonder I'm pale and worried andperfectly miserable. I feel I'm behaving shamefully to John, and notat all rightly towards Captain Lovell. I know I ought to come to anunderstanding with my cousin, and that Frank ought to be more explicitwith me. I couldn't have given a decided answer last night if my lifehad depended on it. I can't give up the one without knowing exactlywhether he means honestly (if I thought he did, Mrs. Lumley, nothingshould induce me to throw him over); and I don't like to make theother miserable, which I am sure I should do if I refused himpoint-blank; nor do I think I could do at all well without him, accustomed as I have been to depend upon him for everything fromchildhood. So I have wavered and prevaricated, and behaveddisingenuously, almost falsely; and what must he think of me now?"

"Think of you, my dear?" replied my worldly friend; "why, of course, he thinks of you more than ever. There is nothing like uncertainty, Kate, to keep them well up to the collar. You should always treat menlike the beasts of the field. If you want to retain the upper hand ofhim, ride an adorer as you do Brilliant, my dear--a light hand, withjust enough liberty to make him fancy he is going quite at his ease;and then, when he is getting a little careless and least expects it, give him such a jerk as makes his fine mouth smart again. He'll wincewith the pain, and very likely rear straight on end; but he'll be allon his haunches well under control, and go on much the pleasanterduring the rest of the day. Never mind how much they suffer; it's verygood for them, and they will like you all the better for it. "

"That may answer very well with some, " I replied, "but I should beafraid to try the experiment too often. I am sure Brilliant wouldbreak away altogether if I used _him_ so. And I think the very manthat minds it most would be the least likely to stand a repetition ofsuch treatment. No, Mrs. Lumley; I fear I must now choose betweenFrank and my cousin. The latter has behaved honourably, considerately, and kindly, and like a thorough gentleman. The former seems to think Iam to be at his beck and call, indeed, whenever he chooses. He hasnever been to see me during the whole of this past week. AtDangerfield he was as little careful of my reputation as he was of hisown limbs. Did I tell you how nearly drowned he was, crossing themoat? How you would have laughed, you wicked, unfeeling woman, if youhad heard the splash that cold, snowy night! And then to disguisehimself like a tramp, and stop those runaway ponies at the risk of hislife, that he might speak three words to me before I went away. I willsay for him that he is afraid of nothing; but I cannot conceal frommyself which has behaved best towards _me_. And yet, Mrs. Lumley, " Iconcluded, rising and walking off to the window, "I would rather haveFrank for a lover than Cousin John for a husband. "

"Many people would suggest there was no impossibility in your havingboth; but I don't give such bad advice as that, " replied Mrs. Lumley. "However, Kate, do nothing in a hurry--that's my counsel. I grant you, I think Master Frank a very slippery gentleman. I do know some_curious_ stories about him; but I never tell tales out of school. Inthe meantime you are, after all, only suffering from an _embarras derichesses_; it's far better to have too many suitors than none at all. Come, I'll take you out shopping with me till five; then we'll havesome tea, and you can go home quietly to dinner and ask Aunt Deborah'sleave to join me at the French play. I've got a capital box, and I'llsend the carriage for you. Wait half a second, whilst I put on mybonnet. "

So we went off shopping, and we had our tea, and I found no objectionsfrom Aunt Deborah to my going out again in the evening; and I was sorestless I did not the least grudge the trouble of dressing, oranything to take me away from my own thoughts. But all the afternoonand all the evening I made up my mind that I would give up FrankLovell. A little resolution was all that was needed. It was plain hedid not _really_ care for me. Why, he wasn't even in London, though heknew quite well I had been there more than a week. Very likely Ishouldn't see him all the winter, and my heart sank as I thought howmuch easier this would make my sacrifice. At all events, I determined, when I did see him, to be cold, and demure, and unmoved--to show himunmistakably that I belonged to another; in which Spartan frame ofmind I betook myself to the French play. 

Alas, alas! Well may the bard complain, --

 "Woman's vows are writ in water; Woman's faith is traced in sand. "

Who should be in the back of the box but Frank Lovell himself!Mischievous Mrs. Lumley, was this your doing? Before I went away I hadpromised to meet him next morning in the park, and he was to _explainall_. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

I hope I have as much command of countenance as falls to the lot ofany lady who don't paint; but when I returned from my walk in the Parkthe following morning I must have looked flushed or excited, or insome way different from usual. I met John at the corner of LowndesStreet, and he stopped short, and looked me piercingly in the face. 

"Where have you been, Kate?" said he, without waiting to bid me"good-morning" or anything. 

"A little stroll in the Park, John, " was my reply. 

"By yourself?" he asked, and his face looked pale and grave. 

I cannot tell a story, so I hesitated and stammered, --

"No, not exactly--at least I met an acquaintance near the Serpentine. "

"Have you any objection to telling me who it was?" said John, and hisvoice sounded very strange. 

"Good gracious! what's the matter?" I asked, in my turn. "Has anythinghappened? Are you ill, John? you look quite upset. "

"I insist upon knowing, " answered he, without taking the slightestnotice of my tender inquiries after his health. 

"Did you or did you not meet Captain Lovel this morning in Hyde Park?"

"Yes, I certainly _did_ meet him, " I replied. 

"Accidentally?" exclaimed my cousin. 

"Why--no--not entirely, " was my answer; "but the fact is----"

"Enough!" burst out John, breaking in upon my explanations with arudeness I had never before seen him exhibit. "Kate, I have beendeceived in you. I thought at least you were candid andstraightforward: I find you faithless, ungrateful, ungenerous! But Iwill not reproach you, " he added, checking himself by a strong effort:"it is only natural, I conclude, for a woman to be false. I thoughtyou were different from the rest, and I was a fool for my pains. Kate, let us understand each other at once. I offered you last night allthat man could give. I had a right to expect an answer then and there. I _thought_ I had a favourable one, and I have spent twelve hours ofhappiness. I now see that I have deceived myself. Perhaps I value myown worth too highly; I own I feel sore and aggrieved, but _you_ shallnot be the sufferer. Kate, I am only 'Cousin John' once more. Give mea few days to get over a natural disappointment, and you and I will befriends and playfellows as we used to be. Shake hands, Kate: I spokeharshly, in a moment of anger; it is over now. God bless you, dear!"

And with these words John walked away, and left me standing on thateventful doorstep which seemed to witness all the changes and chancesof my life. How stately was his walk as he strode down the street! Iwatched him all the way to the corner, but he never once looked back. John was grown much handsomer of late; he used to be too ruddy andprosperous-looking and boyish, but his countenance had alteredconsiderably in the last two or three months--only, seeing him everyday, I did not remark the change. Lady Scapegrace had found it out thefirst. I perfectly remember her saying to me, on the day of ourGreenwich dinner, --

"My dear, your cousin has a great deal in him, if one did but know howto get it _out_. You have no idea what a good-looking man he would be, if you could only succeed in making him ill and unhappy. "

Poor John! I am afraid I had made him unhappy, even now. It struck mehe had a nobler bearing than Captain Lovell himself; although, ofcourse, I could not think him so graceful, or so handsome, or half socharming as my dear Frank. I rushed into the house and locked myselfin my boudoir, to think over and dwell upon the many events of thatmost eventful morning--my happy walk, my delightful companion, whosesoft voice was still whispering in my ear, whose every look andgesture I could recall, even to the wind freshening his handsome browand waving his clustering locks. How happy and contented I felt by hisside! And yet, there was a something. I was not satisfied; I was notthoroughly at ease; my cousin's face would intrude itself upon mythoughts. I could not get out of my head the tone of manly kindnessand regret in which he had last addressed me. I reflected on hissincerity, his generosity, his undeviating fidelity and good-humour, till my heart smote me to think of all he suffered for my sake; and Ibegan to wonder whether I was worthy of being so much cared for, andwhether I was justified in throwing all this faith and truth away. 

Reader, have you ever lived for weeks and weeks in a place which boredyou to death? Have you learned to loathe every tree and shrub andhedge-row in the dreary landscape? Have you shivered up and down themelancholy walks, and yawned through the dull, dark rooms, till youbegan to think the hour never would arrive that was to restore youonce again to liberty and light? And then, when the hour _has_ come atlast, have you been able to take your departure without somehalf-reproachful feeling akin to melancholy--without some slight shadeof regret to think that much as you have hated it, you look upon itall now for the _last_ time? Perhaps the sun breaks out and shinesupon the old place as you catch your last glimpse. Ah! it never usedto shine like that when you could see it from those windows every day;you almost wish your departure had been put off till the morrow; youthink if you were back again, the walks would not be so verymelancholy, the rooms no longer so dull and gloomy. You sigh becauseyou are leaving it, and wonder at yourself for doing so. It is thesame thing with friends, and more especially with those who would fainassume a tenderer title: we never know their value but by their loss. 

"If it wasn't for Frank, " I began to think, "I really believe I mighthave been very happy with Cousin John. Of course, it's impossible now;and, as he says himself, he'll never be anything but a cousin to me. Poor John! he's a noble, true-hearted, unselfish, generous fellow. "

But to return to my walk. When a lady and gentleman meet each other byappointment, either at the edge of the Serpentine or elsewhere, theirconversation is not generally of a nature to be related in detail, noris it to be presumed that their colloquy would prove as interesting tothe general public as to themselves. What I learnt of Frank's privatehistory, his views, feelings, and intentions, on that morning, I mayas well give in my own words, suppressing divers interruptions, protestations, and interjections, which, much as they added to itszest, necessarily rather impeded the course of the narrative, andpostponed its completion till long after I ought to have been back atluncheon. 

Frank had been an only child, and spoiled as only children are in ninecases out of ten. His father was a peer's second son, and married awealthy cotton-spinner's niece for the sake of her money, which moneylasted him about as long as his own constitution. When he died, thewidow was left with ten thousand pounds and the handsome, curly-pated, mischievous boy. She soon followed her husband. Poor thing, she wasvery fond of him, and he had neglected her shamefully. The boy went tohis uncle--the peer, not to his uncle the mill-owner--to be broughtup. Frank was consequently what the world calls a "well-bred one;" hisname was in the _Peerage_, though he had a first cousin once removedwho was but an industrious weaver. The peer, of course, sent him toEton. 

"Ten thousand pounds, " said that judicious relative, "will buy him hiscommission. The lad's handsome and clever; he can play whist nowbetter than my boy's private tutor. By the time his ten thousand'sgone, we'll pick up an heiress for him. 'Gad! how like my poor brotherhe is about the eyes!"

So Frank was started in life with a commission in the Light Dragoons, an extremely good opinion of himself, and as much of his ten thousandpounds as he had not already anticipated during the one term he spentat Oxford before he was rusticated. By the way, so many of mypartners, and other young gentlemen with whom I am acquainted, havegone through this process, that it was many years before I understoodthe meaning of the term. For long I understood _rustication_ to bemerely a playful form of expression for "taking a degree;" and I wasthe more confirmed in this impression from observing that those whohad experienced this treatment were spoken of with high respect andapprobation by their fellow-collegians. 

What odd creatures young men are! I can understand their admiringprowess in field-sports and athletic pursuits, just as I couldunderstand one's admiring a statesman, an author, an artist, or asuccessful man in any pursuit of life; but why they should think itcreditable to get drunk, to run into debt, to set at defiance all therules and regulations enacted for their own benefit, and to conductthemselves in unswerving opposition to the wishes of their nearest anddearest friends, and all to do themselves as much harm as possible, ismore than I can comprehend. Girls are not wrong-headed like this. Where the son is the source of all the annoyance, and ill-humour, andretrenchment in a family, the daughter is generally the mainstay, andcomfort, and sunshine of the whole house. When shall we poor women bedone justice to? But to return to Frank. By his own account he was agambler, of course. A man turned loose upon the world, with such aneducation as most English gentlemen deem befitting their sons, andwithout means to indulge the tastes that education has led him toacquire, is very likely to become so. 

As a boy, the example of his elders teaches him to look upon frivolousdistinction as a great end and aim of life, whilst that of hiscomrades leads him to neglect all study as dry, to despise allapplication as "slow. " At home he hears some good-looking, grown-upcousin, or agreeable military uncle, admired and commented on forbeing "such a capital shot, " "such a good cricket-player, " "such anundeniable rider to hounds, " what wonder the boy grows up thinkingthat these accomplishments alone are the very essentials of agentleman? At school, if he makes an effort at distinction inschool-hours, he is stigmatized by his comrades as a "sap, " andderided for his pursuit of the very object it is natural to suppose hehas been sent there to attain. What wonder he hugs idleness as hisbosom-friend, and loses all his powers of application in their disuse. 

Then come the realities of manhood, for which he is so ill prepared. In the absence of all _useful_ knowledge and practical pursuits, _amusement_ becomes the business of life. Human nature cannot be idle, and if not doing good, is pretty sure to be doing harm. Pleasure, excitement, and fashionable dissipation must be purchased, and paidfor pretty dearly, in hard coin of the realm. The younger son, withhis ten thousand pounds, must soar in the same flight, must "go asfast" as his elder brother with ten thousand a year. How is it to bedone? Why, _of course_, he must _make_ money, if he can, by bettingand play. So it goes on smoothly enough for a time. The Arch-croupierbelow, they say, arranges these matters for beginners; but the luckturns at last. The capital is eaten into; the Jews are called in; andthe young gentleman is ruined. Frank, I think, at this time was in afair way of arriving pretty rapidly at the customary catastrophe. Hehad gone through the whole educational process I have described above, had been regularly and systematically "spoilt, " was a habitualgambler, and a confirmed "dandy. " The ladies all liked him much, and Iconfess I don't wonder at it. Always good-humoured, never sentimental(I hate a sentimental man), invariably well dressed, with a very goodopinion of his own attractions, Frank could make himself agreeable inall societies. He had never been troubled with shyness as a boy, andin his manhood was as "cool a hand" as one would meet with often, evenin London. Then he had plenty of courage, which made the men respecthim; and, above all, was very good-looking--an advantage which, doubtless, has a certain weight even with _our_ far-sighted andreflective sex. 

I never quite made out the rights of his _liaison_, or whatever peoplecall it, with Lady Scapegrace; nor do I think his own account entirelysatisfactory. He assured me that he met her first of all at a maskedball in Paris, that she mistook him for some one else, and confided agreat deal to his ears which she would not have entrusted to any onesave the individual she supposed him to be; that when she discoveredher mistake she was in despair, and that his discretion and respectfor her feelings had made her his fast friend for life. I cannot tellhow this may be, but that they were great friends I have had reason toknow too well. He declared, however, that he looked upon her "quite asa sister. " I do not think, though she is always very kind to me, thatI should exactly like her for a _sister-in-law_. I certainly haveknown Lady Scapegrace do most extraordinary things--such things as noother woman would be permitted to do without drawing down the abuse ofthe world. If she had been fair, and rosy, and pleasing, people wouldhave scouted her; but she was dark, and stern, and commanding. Theworld was afraid of her, and it is very true that "in the world onehad better be feared than loved. " Scandal did not _dare_ say all itthought of Lady Scapegrace; and if she brought Frank Lovell home inher carriage, or went to the opera alone with Count Coquin, or wasseen, day after day, perambulating Kensington Gardens arm in arm withyoung Greenfinch of the Life Guards, instead of shouting and hissing, and, so to speak, _pelting_ her off the stage, the world lifted itsfingers to its lips, shrugged up its worldly shoulders, and merelyremarked, --

"Always _was_ very odd, poor woman! Hers has been a curioushistory--little cracked, I think, now--but what a handsome creatureshe was years ago, when I left school, before _you_ were born, myboy!"

Whatever may have been her carelessness of appearances and levity ofmanner, I think it was never for an instant supposed that she likedany human being half so much as she hated Sir Guy. Then, again, SirGuy and Frank were fast friends, almost inseparable. They say Frankkept things right between the ill-assorted pair, and that his goodoffices had many a time interposed to prevent scenes of abuse andviolence such as must have ended in a separation at least. I was notquite clear that Frank's regard for the coach-driving baronet wasalone at the bottom of all this friendship. I cannot conceive two menmuch worse suited to each other; but Frank vowed, when Icross-questioned him on the subject, which I thought I had a right todo, that he was under the greatest possible obligations to Sir Guy, that the latter had even lent him money, and stood by him when suchassistance was most valuable; and that he looked upon _him_ as _abrother_, just as he looked upon her ladyship as a sister. It seems tohave been quite a family party altogether. Frank warmed with thetopic. 

"You will hear me talked about with all sorts of people, Kate, " saidhe, as we took about our twentieth turn, each of which I had protestedshould be _the last_; "but the world is so officious andmischief-making, you must never believe a word it says. They know I amruined, and they choose to decide that I must be making up to somewealthy young lady. As if _I_ was a man to marry for money; as if Icared for anything on earth but _one_ person, and _that_ for the sakeof her own dear self alone! You ask _me_ about Miss Molasses; youdeclare I am continually riding with her, and dancing with her, andwhat you ladies call 'paying her attention'--that yellow lackadaisicalmiss! Do you think I would marry her if she had half a million? Do youthink I could stand those sentimental airs, that smattering oflearning, and affectation of being poetical, and romantic, andblue--I, who have only lately learned what a woman should be, and whata treasure such a woman is? No, no; I have known the whole family froma child; I can't quite stand the lady part of it, but old Molasses isa right good fellow, and one must be civil to them all. No, no, Kate;with my many faults, I am a very different person from what you seemto think. I have my hopes and wishes, certainly, but----"

I can't possibly go on to relate the conclusion of Frank's rhapsody, but he took great pains to convince me that if there was ever ahigh-principled, pure-minded, much-injured individual, that exemplarycharacter was the gentleman now walking by my side; and I wasconvinced, but at the same time not exactly satisfied. In thinkingover the whole of our conversation, I could gather nothing verydefinite, nothing that led to any particular result, from it. 

One thing was clear to my mind, and that was at all events agratifying reflection. Frank did not seem to be aware that I had anyworldly prospects whatever: it was evident that if he liked me heliked me entirely for myself. I confess I should not wish to be agreat heiress; I should always be fancying that it was the "fine eyesof my casket, " as the French say, which attracted my admirers, and Icould not stand that. No, Frank was not mercenary, I was sure, and ifeven--why the competency I should be possessed of would be anagreeable surprise. If, indeed! Nothing was clear, nothing wassettled. What a fool I was to dwell so upon an uncertainty, to anchormy hopes upon a dream! I was not at all comfortable that afternoon:the more I thought, the more I walked about my boudoir in a state ofhigh fidget and restlessness. One thing, however, was consolatory--thefrost was breaking. Already in London it was a decided thaw, and Iwent to pay Brilliant a visit in the stable. 

Now I dare say I shall be considered very bold and unladylike, and_unfeminine_--that's the word--for owning that I do indeed enjoypaying my favourites a visit in their comfortable quarters. It's wortha good deal to see Brilliant's reception of me when I approach hisstable. From the instant I enter his abode and he hears my voice, hebegins to move restlessly to and fro, whisking his dear tail, cockinghis ears, and pawing up his "litter, " till indeed that word alonedescribes the state to which he reduces his bed; then when I go up tohim he lays back his ears with sheer delight, and gives a jump, as ifhe was going to kick me, and whisks that thin tail about more thanever. I lay my cheek to his smooth soft skin, and he nestles hisbeautiful head in my arms, and pokes his pretty muzzle into mypockets, and seems to ask for bits of bread and sugar and otherdelicacies, all of which are conferred upon him forthwith. I am surehe has more sense than a dog, and a great deal more affection thanmost men. I don't care how _slang_ and "bad style" people may thinkme, but I feel every one of those strong flat black legs, and lookinto his hoofs, hind-feet and all, and turn his rug up to see that hehas been properly cleaned and treated as he deserves; for I _love_Brilliant, and Brilliant loves me. It has sometimes been my lot tohave an aching heart, as I conclude it is the lot of all here below. Like the rest of my fellow-creatures, I have been stung byingratitude, lacerated by indifference where I had a right to expectattachment; or, worst of all, forced to confess myself deceived whereI had bestowed regard and esteem. When I feel sore and unhappy on anyor all of these points, nothing consoles and softens me so much as theaffection of a dumb animal, more particularly a horse. His honestgrave face seems to sympathize in one's grief, without obtruding theimpertinence of curiosity or the mockery of consolation. He givesfreely the affection one has been disappointed in finding elsewhere, and seems to stand by one in his brute vigour and generous unreasoningnature like a true friend. I always feel inclined to pour my griefsinto poor Brilliant's unintelligent ears, and many a tear have I shednestling close to my favourite, with my arms round him like a child'sround its nurse's neck. That very afternoon, when I had made surethere was no one else in the stable, I leaned my head againstBrilliant's firm warm neck, and sobbed, like a fool as I was. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Gentlemen think it right to affect a contempt for stag-hunting, andmany a battle have I had with Cousin John when he has provoked me by"pooh-poohing" that exhilarating amusement. I generally get the bestof the argument. I put a few pertinent questions to him which hecannot answer satisfactorily. I ask him, "What is your principalobject in going out hunting? Is it to learn the habits of the wildanimal, or to watch the instinct of the hound that pursues him? Do youenjoy seeing a fox _walked_ to death, as you call it, on a coldscenting day--or do you care for the finest hunting run that ever wasseen in a woodland country? Have I not heard you say a hundred times, when questioned as to your morning sport, 'Oh, wretched! hounds neverwent any pace!--couldn't shake off the crowd--yes, we killed our fox;but the whole thing was dead slow?' or else exclaim, with a face ofdelight, 'The fastest thing I have seen for years! Eighteen minutes_up wind_, extra pace! not a soul but myself in the same field withthem when they threw their heads up. Fox was _back_, of course, and wenever recovered him, but it was by far the best gallop of the season?'It is evident to me that what you _like_ is riding a good hunter fastover a stiff country--going a turn better than your neighbours, andgiving your own skill that credit which is due to the superiority ofyour horse. You only consider the hounds as a fleeting object at whichto ride; the fox as a necessary evil, without which all this 'rasping'and 'bruising' and 'cutting down, ' as you call it in your ridiculousjargon, cannot be attained. Why, then, do you waste so much energy, and money, and civility, and 'soft-sawder, ' to preserve the vulpinerace? Why don't you all hunt with stag-hounds, or, better still, devote yourselves to a drag, when you may gallop and jump and bustleabout, and upset your horses, and break your own necks to your heart'scontent?" To all of which John answers, as men invariably do when theyare worsted, that "women can't enter into these things, and I amtalking great nonsense about what I don't understand. "

However, let him despise "the calf, " as he termed it, as much as heliked, I was not going to be stewed up in London, with the wind atsouth-west, the thermometer 45°, and the mud over one's ankles, whilstBrilliant and White Stockings were eating their heads off in thestable, so I took advantage of John's good nature to exact a promisethat he would take me down and show me her Majesty's stag-hounds inthe field; and on the express stipulation that Mrs. Lumley should joinour party, and that we should confine ourselves religiously to thelanes, I was promised the enjoyment of a day's hunting. John dideverything I asked him now; he was even kinder than he used to be; butit was a different sort of kindness, and it cut me to the heart. 

Still, the idea was enchanting: the Great Western made a delightfulcover-hack. We sent our horses on by the early train. The place ofmeeting was scarcely three miles from the station, so we had time tosettle ourselves comfortably in the saddle, and to avoid the fuss andparade of two ladies in their habits stepping out of a first-classcarriage into the midst of a metropolitan field. I ran my eyejealously over the brown mare as Mrs. Lumley jogged quietly along bymy side, and I confess I had my misgivings whilst contemplating theeasy pliant seat and firm graceful figure of her mistress, the stronglengthy frame and beautiful proportions of the mare herself; but thenBrilliant felt so light and elastic under me, the day was so soft andfresh, the country air so fragrant, and the dewdrops sparkling sobrilliantly on the leafless hedges, that my courage rose with myspirits, and I felt as if I could ride anywhere or do anything insheer gladness of heart. 

"Mr. Jones is very strict, " said my companion, taking the brown marelightly on the curb, and putting her into a canter along a level pieceof sward by the roadside; "he declares he only takes charge of usunder the solemn promise that there is to be no _jumping_. For mypart, I never do what I am told, Kate; do you?"

"I always do as I like with John, " said I; "but then I always _like_to do what he wishes. "

My cousin's sorrowful smile almost brought the tears into my eyes. 

"I dare say he's quite right, " rejoined Mrs. Lumley. "For my part, I've no nerves left now. If you'll promise not to jump, I'll promisetoo. What say you, Kate--is it a bargain?"

"Agreed, " I replied; and just then a turn in the lane brought us intofull view of the meet of her Majesty's stag-hounds. 

What a motley assemblage it was! At first I could not catch a glimpseof the hounds themselves, or even the servants, for the crowd, mostlyof foot-people, that surrounded them. Where did these queer-lookingpedestrians come from? They were not agricultural labourers; they werenot townspeople, nor operatives, nor mechanics; they were the sort ofpeople that one never sees except on such an occasion as this. Ibelieve if I was in the habit of attending low pigeon matches, dogfights, or steeplechases, in the "Harrow County, " I should recognizemost of them enjoying the spectacle of such diversions. Onepeculiarity I remarked amongst them, with scarcely an exception. Although in the last stage of shabbiness, their clothes had all beenonce of fashionable texture and good material; but they entirelyneglected the "unities" in their personal apparel. A broadcloth coat, much the worse for wear, was invariably surmounted by a greasy cap;whilst he who rejoiced in a beaver, usually battered in at the crownand encircled by a tag of threadbare crape, was safe to have discardedhis upper garment, and to appear in his waistcoat and shirt-sleeves. Awiry sweep, in the full uniform of his profession, was by far the mostrespectable-looking personage of the lot. They clustered round thepack, and seemed to make remarks, more or less sarcastic, amongstthemselves. As they opened out a little, I observed a veryaristocratic-looking old man, clad in most gorgeous apparel of scarletand gold, and seated on a remarkably handsome, powerful horse, longand low, with great strength in small compass, and to all appearancequite thoroughbred. 

"That's the huntsman, " said Mrs. Lumley, who kindly undertook to be mycicerone, for she often enjoyed "a day with the Queen's, " and wasquite at home here; "he'll be so glad to see me. We're great friends. If you like, Kate, I'll introduce you. "

I declined the honour as rather too public. "But, " said I, "do tell mewho is in that green carriage with its back to us. Is it PrinceAlbert?" Mrs. Lumley laughed. 

"Not exactly, my dear, " she replied; "that's the calf! Come a littlethis way; and when they open the door we shall see him bounce out. " Sowe edged our horses off to a spot at which the foot-people werealready beginning to congregate, and sat there quietly anticipatingthe "enlargement of the deer. "

"What are we waiting for now?" I asked at length, when my patience wasnearly worn out. "Why don't we begin?"

"The Master of the Buck hounds, of course, " replied my cicerone. "He'snot come yet. You know, Kate, it's a political appointment, and theygenerally give it to somebody who hates hunting, and particularlystag-hunting, more than anything; so, of course, he wisely comes aslate and goes home as early as he can. But this man is a goodsportsman and a thorough gentleman, and very fond of it too, so weshall not have to wait much longer. "

In fact, the words were hardly out of her mouth before acarriage-and-four drove up containing three very gentleman-like, good-looking men, "got up" to the utmost extent of hunting splendour, and looking the very personification of that dandyism whichMelton engrafted upon London would be likely to produce. When theywere mounted, I am obliged to confess that those magnificent animalsmade Brilliant himself look small. By this time there was greatexcitement amongst the foot-people; and an official in gold lace, asort of mounted beadle, riding up with a heavy-thonged whip, cleared alane at the back of the cart which I had so erroneously imagined tocontain the Prince Consort. The doors flew open, and I was all eyes towitness the magnificent sight of "the monarch of the waste" leapingforth into the sunshine, exulting in his freedom. Shall I confess thatI was somewhat disappointed?

A neutral-coloured beast, something like a donkey, bundled out in aclumsy, unwilling sort of manner, and on his egress commenced croppingthe grass with the utmost _sang froid_ and placidity. My friend thesweep threw his cap at him. He raised his head, shorn of its branchinghonours, and, after staring about him, trotted quietly off amongst thespectators, closely followed by two well-mounted officials, termed, Ibelieve, "flappers" by disrespectful sportsmen, but whose duty, itappears, is to keep the chase in view till it either beats them offfor pace, or leaves them "planted" at some large awkward impediment, the latter obstacle generally presenting itself in about three fields. On this occasion I saw the deer trot quite composedly up to a highthorn fence of at least six feet, and clear it without an effort;whereon its pursuers, looking blandly around for gate or gap, andfinding none, prudently returned to their fellow-officials in scarletand gold lace--I conclude, to report upon their own inefficiency. Inthe meantime nobody seemed to be in a hurry; there was, indeed, someslight stir among the equestrians; but there was no throwing away ofcigars, no drawing of girths and taking up of curb-chains--none of thebustle and confusion created by the departure of a wild fox over agrass country. On the contrary, every one here seemed to know exactlyhow much time he had to spare. We ladies were naturally the mostimpatient of the throng. Presently the huntsman looked at his watch, and said something to the noble master, who looked at his, andreplied, "I think we may begin. "

There was a slight bustle among the "knowing ones;" two or threeofficers of the Life Guards stole forward a few paces; one of theofficials cracked his whip; and ere I knew exactly what had happened, the hounds were streaming away over an adjoining field, "heads up andsterns down, " running perfectly mute, but at a pace which would haveastonished my old friends of the Heavytop country to no small extent. Several desperate speculators were making frightful efforts for astart. Two of the Life Guardsmen were settled with the hounds, and thethird _would_ have been, had he not been "turned over" by anuncompromising flight of rails. Four London dealers and a youngBerkshire farmer were flourishing about, determined to show theirhorses whilst they were fresh; the noble Master and his aristocraticfriends were pounding down a lane running parallel to the line ofchase. Mrs. Lumley was getting excited, and the Gitana reared straighton end. Brilliant was fighting most disagreeably with his bridle, andJohn nervously endeavouring to quiet our horses, and prevail onourselves to submit to his guidance. We _did_ follow him into thelane; but here what a scene of confusion it was! Mild equestrians, much at the mercy of their infuriated steeds; hot foot-people, springing out of the way of the charging squadrons, and revengingthemselves for threatened annihilation by sarcastic jeers, notaltogether undeserved. 

"Give me a lead, sir!" implored a good-looking light-weight--who wasevidently not in his usual place, and most anxious to get out of thelane--to a fat, jolly old sportsman in a green coat and brass buttonson a stiff bay horse. 

"Certainly, sir, " said the good-natured man; and turned his horseshort at the fence, closely followed by the gentleman he was so readyto oblige. The bank was rotten and the bay horse unwilling. As mighthave been expected, the green coat kissed mother earth, whilst his ownhorse and his pursuer and his pursuer's horse rolled about on the topof him in a most complicated game of all-fours. As they picked eachother up, I heard the fat man in green, much to my astonishment, apologizing for the accident with the greatest _empressement_. 

"A thousand pardons, my dear sir! How could I be so clumsy? It mighthave been a most serious accident!" All of which excuses theaggressor, as was to be expected, received with boundless affabilityand good-humour. In the meantime we had a beautiful view of the run. The hounds were still streaming away, two fields in front of everyone; the huntsman and the two officers going gallantly abreast intheir wake. One of them reminded me a little of Frank Lovell. Thenoble Master, too, had cut in, and was striding along over everyobstacle; the London dealers had dropped somewhat in the rear, and thefarmer's horse was already completely sobered by the pace. The houndsturned towards us. John entreated us to stop. They crossed the laneunder our horses' heads, and taking up the scent in the adjoiningpasture, went off again at score--not a soul _really_ with them. 

"Flesh and blood can't stand this!" exclaimed Mrs. Lumley as, turningthe Gitana short round at a high stile with a foot-board, she landedlightly in the field. "Don't attempt it, Kate!" she screamed out tome, half turning in her saddle. I heard John's voice too, raised inexpostulation, but it was too late. I was already in the air. Ithought Brilliant never would come to the ground; and when he didtouch it, he was so excited with his previous restraint and hispresent position, that he broke clean away with me. I was a littlefrightened, but I never lost my nerve. I flew past Mrs. Lumley like anarrow; and though she put the Gitana to her speed, and made my horsemore violent still as she thundered close upon his quarters, I was tooproud to ask her to give me a pull, and a wicked, jealous feeling rosein my heart that was an excellent substitute for true courage at thetime. My horse was almost frantic; but fortunately he knew my voice, and by speaking to him I was able to steady him before we reached thefence. He bounded over it like a deer, and went quite quietly, nowthat he had nothing before him but the hounds. I had never known tillnow what it was to ride for myself. Hitherto I had always followed aleader, but henceforth I resolved to enjoy the true pleasure offinding my own way. I looked back. I was positively _first_, but Mrs. Lumley was not fifty yards behind me, and coming up rapidly. 

"Well done, Kate!" said she as we flew our third fence side by side. Still the hounds fleeted on, and I never took my eye off them, buturged my horse in their wake, taking every turn they did, and swervingfrom nothing. Fortunately, Brilliant was thoroughbred and the fenceslight, or, even with my weight, such a style of riding must soon haveproduced fatal results. I shall never go again as well as I did thatday; but do what I would I could not shake off Mrs. Lumley. If I lostsight of her for an instant, she was sure to gain a turn upon me, andon one or two occasions she was actually in my front. I felt I couldhave ridden into a chalk pit, and _dared_ her to follow me with thegreatest satisfaction. At last the hounds checked; we stood alone withthem; I felt almost delirious with the excitement. 

"What an example we have made of _the gentlemen_, Kate, " said Mrs. Lumley, turning the Gitana's head to the wind. "I had no idea _you_could ride like this. "

I did not answer, but I thought "Wait a little, and I'll show you. " Ifelt I _hated_ her, though she _was_ my friend. Again the houndsstooped to the scent; they crossed a deep narrow lane, up which I sawthe crowd advancing. I put my horse into his pace. 

"You can't go there, Kate, " vociferated Mrs. Lumley. "This way; here'sa gate in this corner. "

I clenched my teeth, and rode straight for the fence. It looked darkand forbidding. I did not see _how_ it was to be done, but I trustedto Brilliant, and Brilliant nearly did it--but _not quite_. There wasa loud crash; one of my pommels gave me an awkward dig in the side. Isaw the white star on my horse's forehead shoot below me; and themuddy, gravelly lane seemed to rise in my face and rasp my hands andsmear my habit, and get conglomerated with my hair. The horsemen wereall round me when I got up. I did not care for my accident; I did notcare for being bruised--in fact, I did not know whether I was hurt ornot--but my prevailing feeling was one of burning shame and horror asI thought of my dress. To have had a fall amongst all those men! Icould have sunk into the earth and thanked it for covering me. Butthere was no lack of sympathy and assistance. The huntsman pulled up;the noble Master offered me his carriage to go back to London;everybody stopped to tender advice and condolences. 

"The lady's had a fall. "--"Give the lady some sherry. "--"Catch thelady's horse. "--"Can we render the lady any assistance?" John, ofcourse, was much distressed and annoyed, but glad to find I was notseriously hurt. Mrs. Lumley only stood aloof and sneered. "I told younot to ride there, Kate, " said she; "and what a fall you'vehad--amongst all these people, too!" She very nearly made me an enemyfor life. 

I was too much hurt to go on. The stag was taken, as usual, in a largepond about a mile from where I met with my accident; but our party hadhad enough of hunting for one day. I am sure I had; and I think theGitana was nearly beat, though her mistress would not confess it. Wesoon got back to the station, where I washed my face and put myself torights. After all, I was very little the worse, and everybody said Ihad "gone like a bird. " As we returned to London by the fast train, and I sat in that comfortable, well-cushioned carriage, enjoying thedelightful languor of rest after fatigue, I half resolved to devote mywhole life to a sport which was capable of affording such thrillingexcitement as that which I had so recently enjoyed. I had never beenso happy, I thought, in my existence as whilst I was leading the fieldon my dear Brilliant. It was a pure, wholesome, legitimate excitement;there were no harassing doubts and fears, no wounded feelings andbitter thoughts, no hours and days of suspense and misery to atone fora few short moments of delight. If I was disappointed in other things, could I not devote myself wholly to hunting, and so lead a happy andharmless life? If I had been a man, I should have answered in theaffirmative; but I am a woman, and gradually softer thoughts stoleover me. A distant vision of a happy home, with home-interests andhome-pleasures--others to love, others to care for, besidesmyself--all a woman's duties, and all a woman's best delights. I shutmy eyes and tried to realize the picture. When I opened them again, Mrs. Lumley had gone fast to sleep; but John was watching me with alook of painful attention. He certainly had acquired a very earnest, keen look of late, such as he never used to wear. I do not know whatprompted the question, but I could not forbear asking him, in a sortof half-laughing way, "John, if I had broken my neck to-day, what onearth should you have done?"

"Mourned for you _as a sister_, Kate, " he replied gravely, evenseverely. I did not speak another word the whole way home. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

"I shall miss you sadly, Kate; but if you enjoy your visit I shall bequite satisfied. "

It was Aunt Deborah who spoke. Dear Aunt Deborah! I felt as if I hadnot been half attentive enough to her lately. I had selfishly been sotaken up with my own thoughts and my own schemes that I had neglectedmy poor suffering relative, and now my heart smote me for my want ofconsideration. Aunt Deborah had not left the house since our returnfrom Dangerfield. She looked worn and old, but had the same kindsmile, the same measured accents as ever. Though she endured a gooddeal of pain and was kept in close confinement, she never complained:patient and quiet, she had a kind word for every one; and even hermaid avowed that "missus's" temper was that of an angel. "Hangel, " themaid called it, but it was perfectly true. Aunt Deborah must have hadsomething very satisfactory to look forward to, or she never wouldhave been so light-hearted. One thing I remarked, she was fonder ofJohn than ever. 

"I won't go, my dear aunt, " was my reply, for my conscience smote mehard. "I won't go; I don't care about it; I had much rather stay andnurse you here. "

But Aunt Deborah wouldn't hear of it. 

"No, no, " said she, "my dear; you are at the right age to enjoyyourself. I don't know much about Scamperley, and I have a far morecharitable opinion of Lady Scapegrace than the world in general; but Idare say you will have a pleasant party, and I can trust you anywherewith John. "

There it was, John again--always John--and I knew exactly what Johnthought of me; and it made me thoroughly despise myself. I reflectedthat if I were John, I should have a very poor opinion of my cousin; Ishould consider her silly, vacillating, easily deceived, and by nomeans to be depended upon; more than woman in her weaknesses, and lessthan woman in her affections. "What a character! and what a contempthe must have for me!"

My cousin called to take me to the railway, and to accompany me as achaperon on a visit to Sir Guy and Lady Scapegrace, who were, asusual, "entertaining a distinguished party of fashionables at theirresidence, Scamperley. " By the way, what an odd phrase that same"entertaining" always sounds to my ear. When I learn that the Marquisof Mopes has been "entertaining" his friends, the Duke of Drearyshire, Count and Countess Crotchet, Viscount Inane, Sir Simon and LadySulkes, the Honourable Hercules Heavyhead, etc. , etc. , at his splendidseat, Boudoir Castle, I cannot refrain from picturing to myself thedignified host standing on his bald head for the amusement of hisimmovable visitors, or otherwise, forgetful of his usual staiddemeanour, performing ludicrous antics, projecting disrespectful"larks, " to woo a smile from those stolid countenances in vain! SirGuy might be "entertaining, " too, in this way, but hardly in anyother. What a disagreeable man he was! although I could not helpacknowledging his good nature in coming to fetch us from the stationhimself. 

As we emerged from the railway carriage, the first object that greetedmy eyes was Sir Guy's great gaudy drag, with its three piebalds and aroan. The first tones that smote on my ear were those of his hoarseharsh voice (how it jarred upon my nerves!) in loud obstreperouswelcome. 

"Thought you'd come by this train, Miss Coventry, " shouted Sir Guyfrom the box, without making the slightest demonstration ofdescending; "laid Frank five to two on the event. --Done him again, hey, Frank--_I knew_ what you'd be up to; brought the drag over onpurpose. Now then, give us your hand; one foot on the box, one on theroller-bolt, and now you're landed. Jones, my boy, get up behind. I'vesent the van for servants and luggage. 'Gad! what a pretty maid you'vegot. Let 'em go, and sit tight!"

So we rolled smoothly out, the piebalds shaking their harness andtrotting merrily along, the roan placed on the off-side, for thepurpose of sustaining whatever amount of punishment our charioteerthought fit to inflict. 

Behold me, then, seated on the box of Sir Guy Scapegrace's drag! apretty position for a young lady who, during the last month or two, had been making daily resolutions of amendment as to _slang_ conductand general levity of demeanour. How I hated myself, and loathed thevery sight of _him_, as I looked at my companion. Sir Guy was redderand fatter than when I had seen him last; his voice was moredissonant, his neckcloth more alarming, his jewellery more prominent, his hat closer shaved and the flower in his mouth less like a flowerthan ever. How came I there? Why, because I was piqued, and hurt, andreckless. I was capable of almost any enormity. John's manner to me inthe train had well-nigh driven me mad. So quiet, so composed, so cold, so kind and considerate, but a kindness and consideration such as thatwith which one treats a child. He seemed to feel he was my superior;he seemed even to soothe and pity me. I would have given worlds tohave spoken frankly _out_ to him, to have asked him what I had done tooffend him, even to have brought him back to that topic upon which Ifelt he would never enter more. But it was impossible. I dared notwound that kind, generous heart again--I dared not trust _myself_. No, he was only "Cousin John" now; he had said so himself. Surely he neednot have given me up quite so easily; surely I was worthy of an effortat least: yet I _knew_ it had been my own fault--though I would notallow it even to myself--and this I believe it was that rankled andgnawed at my heart till I could hardly bear my own identity. It was arelief to do everything I could think of to annoy him. To heapself-contempt on my wicked head, to show him I was reckless of hisgood opinion as of my own, to lay up a store of agonizing reproachesfor the future, to gnash my teeth, as it were, and nerve myself into asavage indifference for the present. Nay, there was even a diabolical_pleasure_ in it. Frank Lovell occupied the seat behind me: at anothertime I might have been gratified at his near neighbourhood, andannoyed to think he should have been paying so long a visit toScamperley. I was startled to find how little I cared. He leaned overand whispered to me occasionally, and seemed pleased with the markedencouragement I gave him. After all, I could not help liking Frankvery much; and was not my cousin at the back of the coach, to witnessall that took place? But Sir Guy would not allow me to be"monopolized, " as he called it. 

"You've lost your roses sadly in London, Miss Coventry, " said he, poking his odious face almost under my bonnet, and double-thonging theoff-wheeler most unmercifully. "Never mind; I think a woman looks bestwhen she is pale. Egad, you've more colour now, though. Don't beangry, it's only my way; you know I'm your slave. "

"Sir Guy don't _mean_ to be rude, " whispered Frank, for I confess Iwas beginning to get indignant; and the Baronet went on, --

"Do you remember our picnic at Richmond, Miss Coventry, and my promisethat if ever you honoured me by taking a place on my coach you should_drive_? Take hold of 'em now, there's a good girl; you ought to knowsomething about the ribbons, and the next four miles is quitestraight, and a dead flat. "

I was in that state of mind that I should not have had the leastscruple in upsetting the coach and risking the lives of all upon it, my own included; but I know not what imp of evil prompted me to turnround and call to my cousin at the back, --

"John, do you think I could drive four horses?"

"Pray don't, " whispered Frank Lovell, who seemed to disapprove of thewhole proceeding; but I did not heed him, for my cousin never answeredtill I asked him again. 

"Do as you like, Kate, " was his reply, "only I shouldn't advise you totry;" but he looked very grave, and seriously hurt and annoyed. 

This was enough for me. I laughed aloud. I was determined to provokehim, and I changed places with Sir Guy. He showed me how to part andhold the reins; he lectured me on the art of putting horses together;he got into a state of high good-humour, and smiled, and swore, andpatronized me, and had the effrontery to call me a "d--d fine girl, "and I never boxed his ears, though I confess to having been once ortwice sorely tempted. In short, I flirted with him shamefully, andeven Frank got grave and out of sorts. At last Sir Guy removed theflower from his mouth, and pulled out his cigar-case. 

"Have a weed, Miss Coventry!" said he, with his detestable leer. "Ofcourse you smoke; any one who can tool 'em along as you do _must_ beable to smoke. Mine are very mild, let me choose one for you. "

I accepted his offer, though I had considerable misgivings as towhether it would not make me sick. I looked round to see how my cousinapproved of all these goings on, and particularly this last cigarmovement. He was sitting with his back to us, reading the morningnewspaper, apparently totally indifferent to my proceedings. Thatdecided me. I would have smoked now if there had been a barrel ofgunpowder under my nose. I didn't care how sick it made me! I lit mycigar from Sir Guy's, I suffered him to put his horrid red face closeto mine. I flirted, and laughed, and drove, and puffed away as if Ihad been used to these accomplishments all my life. I rattled throughthe turnpike without stopping to pay, as if it were a good joke. Idouble-thonged a sleeping carter over the face and eyes as I passedhim. My near leader shied at a wheelbarrow, and I _almost_ swore as Irated him and flanked him, and exclaimed, --

"Confound you, _I'll_ teach you to keep straight!"

As we drove into the Park at Scamperley--for I fearlessly rounded theavenue turn, and vowed I would not abandon the reins till I haddelivered my load at the front door--even Frank was completelydisgusted. My cousin took not the slightest notice, but kept his seatwith his back turned to the horses, and was still deep in hisnewspaper. Sir Guy was delighted; he shouted, and grinned, and sworemore than ever. I was a "trump"--I was a "girl of the right sort"--Iwas a "well-bred one"--I had no end of "devil" in me--I was fit to bea "queen!" Whilst the object of all these polished encomiums couldwillingly have burst out crying at a moment's notice; indeed, shewould have found it an unspeakable relief; and felt as she had neverfelt before, and as she trusts in heaven she may never feel again. 

It was a lovely spot Scamperley--beautiful as a dream--with the quietwoodland beauty of a real English place. Such timber! Such an avenue!I wonder if any of the sporting dandies and thoughtless visitors whocame down "to stay with Scapegrace" because he had more pheasants andbetter "dry" (meaning champagne) than anybody else ever thought of themany proprietors those old oaks and chestnuts had seen pass away, thestrange doings they must have witnessed as generation after generationof Scapegraces lived their short hour and went to their account, having done all the mischief they could, for they were a wild, wickedrace from father to son. The present Baronet's childhood was nursed inprofligacy and excess. Sir Gilbert had been a fitting sire to Sir Guy, and drank, and drove, and sinned, and turned his wife out-of-doors, and gathered his boon companions about him, and placed his heir, alittle child, upon the table, and baptized him, in mockery, withblood-red wine; and one fine morning he was found dead in hisdressing-room, with a dark stream stealing slowly along the floor. They talked of "broken blood-vessels, " and "hard living, " and "a fullhabit;" but some people thought he had died by his own hand; and thedressing-room was shut up and made a lumber-room of, and nobody everused it any more. However, it was the only thing to save the family. Along minority put the present possessor fairly on his legs again, andthe oaks and the chestnuts were spared the fate that had seemed toosurely awaiting them. Nor was this the only escape they hadexperienced. A Scapegrace of former days had served in theParliamentary army during his father's lifetime; had gone over to theking at his death; had fought at Edgehill and Marston Moor--and to doSir Neville justice, he could fight like a demon; had abandoned theroyal cause when it was hopeless, and, by betraying his sovereign, escaped the usual fate and amercement of malcontent--the Protectorremarking, with a certain solemn humour, "that Sir Neville was aninstrument in the hand of the Lord, but that Satan had a share in him, which doubtless he would not fail to claim in due time. " So SirNeville lived at Scamperley in abundance and honour, and preserved hisoaks and his rents, and professed the strictest Puritanism; and diedin a fit brought on by excessive drinking to the success of theRestoration, when he heard that Charles had landed, and the king wasreally "to enjoy his own again. " He was succeeded by his grandson SirMontague, the best-looking, the best-hearted, and the weakest of hisrace. There was a picture of him hanging over against the greatstaircase--a handsome, well-proportioned man, with a woman's beauty ofcountenance, and more than womanly softness of expression. LadyScapegrace and I have stopped and gazed at it for hours. 

"He's not very like the present Baronet, my dear, " she would say, herhaughty features gathering into a sneer--and Lady Scapegrace's sneerwas that of Mephistopheles himself; "he is beautiful, exceedingly. Ilove to look at his hazel eyes, his low antique brow, his silkychestnut hair, and his sweet melancholy smile. Depend upon it, Kate, no man with such a smile as that is ever capable of succeeding in anyone thing he undertakes. I don't care what his intellect may be, Idon't care what animal courage he may possess, however dashing hisspirit, however chivalrous his sentiments--so surely as he has woman'sstrength of affection, woman's weakness of heart, so surely must he goto the wall. I have seen it a hundred times, Kate, and I never knew itotherwise. "

Since the affair of the bull Lady Scapegrace had contracted a greataffection for me, and would have me to roam about the house with herfor hours. She was a clever, intellectual woman, without one idea orsentiment in common with her husband. In this state of mentalwidowhood she had consoled herself by study, amongst other things; andthe history of the family into which she had married afforded herample materials for reflection and research. She had collected everyscrap of writing, every private memorandum, letter, and document thatcould throw any light upon the subject; and I verily believe she couldhave concocted a highly interesting volume, detailing the exploits andmisdeeds, the fortunes and misfortunes, of the Scapegraces. 

"I know all about him, Kate, " she would proceed, fixing her greathollow eyes upon my face, and laying her hand on my arm, as was herhabit when interested. "He is my pet amongst the family, though Idespise him thoroughly. You see that distant castle, sufficientlybadly painted, in the corner of the picture? That was the residence ofher who exercised such a fatal influence over the life of poor SirMontague. All his little sonnets, some of them touching and prettyenough, are addressed to 'The Lady Mabel. ' I have found two or threeof his love-letters, probably returned by her, tied up in a faded bitof ribbon; there is also one note from the lady to her admirer; such aproduction, Kate! Not a word but what is misspelt, not a sentence ofcommon grammar in the whole of it; and yet this was the woman he brokehis heart for! Look well at him, my dear, and you will see why. Withall its beauty, such a face as that was made to be imposed upon. TheLady Mabel, however, seems to have been a notable strong-mindedpersonage enough. She acknowledges the receipt of her lover's letters;which, however, without condescending to give any further explanation, she avers 'came to hand at an untoward moment, ' and finishes bysending him a receipt for making elderflower wine--assuring him, witha certain sly malice, that it is 'a sovereign specific against colic, vertigo, and all ailments of the heart and stomach!' What a contrastto his protestations endorsed, 'These, with haste--ride--ride--ride!'which many a good horse must have been spurred and hurried to deliver. How he rings the changes upon his unalterable and eternal devotion!How he implores 'his dear heart' never to forget him! and calls her'his sweet life, ' and protests that 'he welcomes the very night-breezeblowing from the castle, because it must have swept past the windowsof his love!' and pours out his foolish heart like a child pouringwater into a sieve. Lady Mabel, however, seems to have been proofagainst sentiment, as she undoubtedly was against good looks. From allthat I can gather, she appears to have made use of her adorer infurtherance of sundry political schemes, such as were so numerous atthat period, and to have thrown him away, like a rusty blade, when shehad no further occasion for his services. I cannot help thinking shedespised him thoroughly. There are certain bills and memoranda, withhis signature attached, relating to levies of men and great purchasesof arms, which look as if he had plunged into some desperateenterprise, doubtless at her instigation; and in his sonnets there arefrequent allusions to 'winning her by the sword, ' 'loving her to thedeath, ' and such Quixotic protestations, that look as if he had at onetime meditated an unusually daring stroke. He was a fool, " said LadyScapegrace reflectively, "but he was a fine fellow, too, to throwwealth, life, and honour at the feet of a woman who was not worth athrob of that kind, generous heart, a drop of that loyal, gallantblood!

"Then he married, I can't quite make out why, as there is aconsiderable gap in the correspondence of the family about this time, only partially connected by the diary of an old chaplain, who seems tohave been formerly tutor to Sir Montague, and to have cherished agreat regard for his pupil. The lady was a foreigner and a Romanist;and although we have no picture of her, we gather from the reverendchronicler that she was 'low of stature, dark-browed, and swarthy incomplexion, ' though he gallantly adds that she was 'doubtless pleasingto the eyes of those who loved such southern beauty. ' At the weddingit appears that Lady Mabel was present; and 'my good master's attireand ornaments, ' consisting of 'peach-coloured doublet, andpearl-silken hose, and many gems of unspeakable price, dazzling to thesight of humble men, ' are detailed with strange minuteness andfidelity. Even the plume in his hat and the jewelled hilt of hisrapier are dwelt upon at considerable length. But notwithstanding hismagnificence, the worthy chaplain did not fail to remark that 'my goodmaster seemed ill at ease, and the vertigo seizing him during theceremony, he must have fallen had I not caught him something cunninglyunder the arm-pits, assisted by worthy Master Holder and one of thegroomsmen. ' The chaplain, who seems to have been as blind as becamehis reverend character, cannot forbear from expressing his admirationof the Lady Mabel, whom he describes as 'fair and comely in colour, like the bloom of the spring rose; of a buxom stature, and of a loftygait and gestures withal. ' What was she doing at Sir Montague'swedding? No wonder the old attack of 'vertigo, ' which her elderflowerwine seems rather to have increased, should have come on again. 

"One thing is pretty clear, the Baronet detested his wife (theScapegraces have generally owned that amiable weakness, my dear). Ithink it must have been in consequence of her religion that he becameso strenuous a supporter of the opposite faith. At last he joinedMonmouth, and still the correspondence seems to have gone on, for thenight before Sedgmoor he wrote her a letter. Such a letter, Kate! Iwas lucky enough to get it from a descendant of the lady, who wasunder great obligations to me; I'll show it you to-morrow. No man with_that mouth_ could have written such a letter, except when death waslooking him in the face. I often think when she got it she must havegiven way at last. But it was too late. He was killed in the firstcharge made by the royal troops. His own regiment, raw recruits andcountrymen, turned at the first shot; but he died like a Scapegrace, waving his hat and cheering them on. We are rather proud of him in thefamily, after all. Compared with the rest of them, his was a harmlesslife and a creditable end. "

"But what became of Lady Mabel?" I asked; for I confess I was a littleinterested in this disjointed romance of long-past days. 

"Did you ever know a thoroughly unfeeling person in your life that didnot prosper?" was her ladyship's reply; and again her features writhedinto the Mephistopheles' sneer. "Lady Mabel married an earl, and hadsons and daughters, and lived to a green old age. I have seen apicture of her at fifty, and she was still 'fair and comely and buxom'as when she dazzled the old chaplain's eyes and broke Sir Montague'sheart. Yes, yes, Kate, there's nothing like a _sensible_ woman; she'sthe evergreen in the garden, and blooms, and buds, and puts forthfresh shoots, when the rose is lying withered and trampled into theearth; but for all that, she has never had the charm of the rose, andnever can have. "

Such is a specimen of one of my many conversations with LadyScapegrace, whom I liked more and more the better I knew her. But Ihave been anticipating sadly during my drive of Sir Guy's coach up SirGuy's avenue. When I reached the front door, with all my recklessness, I felt glad to see no head poking out of windows--above all, no_female_ witness to my unwomanly conduct. I felt thoroughly ashamed ofmyself as I got down from the box; and I confess it was with feelingsof intense relief that a polite groom of the chambers informed me, with many apologies, "her ladyship and all the ladies had gone todress, " and handed me over, with a courtly bow, to a tidy elderlywoman, in a cap that could only belong to a housekeeper. She conductedme to my room, and consigned me to Gertrude, already hard at workunpacking upon her knees. 

CHAPTER XX. 

A very pretty little room it was; none of your enormous drearystate-apartments, dull as a theatre in the daytime, with a bed like amourning coach, and corners of gloom and mystery, uncomfortable evenat noon, and fatal to the nerves when seen by the light of a solitarywax-candle. On the contrary, it was quite the room for a young lady:pink hangings tinted one's complexion with that roseate bloom whichthe poet avers is as indispensable to woman as "man's imperialfront"--whatever _that_ means--is to the male biped. A dark carpetwith a rich border relieved the light-coloured paper, picked outsparingly with flowers; the toilet-table was covered with a blushingtransparency of pink under white, like sunset on snow--perhaps Ishould rather say like a muslin dress over a satin slip; and there wasa charming full-length glass, in which I could contemplate my wholeperson from top to toe, without slanting it an inch off theperpendicular. The lookout was into Lady Scapegrace's garden, a little_bijou_ of a place, that bore ample witness to the good taste of itsmistress. Every shrub had been transplanted under her own eye, everyborder filled according to her personal directions. She tied her owncarnations, and budded her own roses, like the most exemplaryclergyman's wife in England. I do believe she _would_ have been a goodwife to anybody but Sir Guy. 

However, it was too dark for me to see anything of her ladyship'sgarden. It was already getting dusk when we arrived, and although itwanted three mortal hours of dinner, all the ladies, including thehostess, had retired to their own rooms, to while away the time bywriting letters, reading novels, and going to sleep. I was much toorestless to embark in any of these occupations. It would have been arelief to write, certainly--to pour out all one's thoughts andfeelings before some sympathizing correspondent; but I owned nonesuch. I could not have settled to read, no, not the most interestingnovel that was ever penned, although I might have left it off the daybefore in an agony of uncertainty at the critical place which isalways to be found near the conclusion of the second volume; and asfor sleep--sleep, indeed!--I felt as if I should never sleep again. 

When I am unhappy, and particularly when I am angry with myself, Imust always be doing something--no matter what--but I _must_ beoccupied, so I hurried Gertrude, and bustled about, and got myselfdressed, and found my own way to one of the drawing-rooms, where Ihoped to be at least secure from interruption, and to brood and worrymyself for an hour or two in unbroken solitude. I ought to have beensafe enough here. As I had wandered through unknown passages andpassed uncertain doors, I had heard the click of billiard balls, thesound of many voices, and the harsh laugh of Sir Guy; I knewconsequently that the gentlemen were all busy at "pool, " or someequally intellectual pastime, and had not yet gone to dress. I wassufficiently conversant with the habits of my own sex to be aware thatno lady would willingly tarnish the freshness of her dinner toiletteby coming down before the very last minute, and I anticipatedtherefore no further interruption than a housemaid coming to put thefire to rights, or a groom of the chambers to light fresh candles, functionaries, especially the former, who would be much moreincommoded by my presence than I should be by theirs. Good gracious!there was a gentleman down and dressed already; sitting with his backto me, immersed in the thrilling pages of "The Drawing-Room ScrapBook, " which he was studying upside-down. I came in very softly, andhe never heard me, nor turned his head, but I knew the back of thathead pretty well. It was Cousin John. I also took a book, and satdown. 

"Perhaps, " I thought, "he's not going to speak to me at all. Well, what do I care? I've a temper, too, if it comes to that. "

So I read my book assiduously; it was the "Comic Almanac, " but I don'tknow that it made me feel very much inclined to laugh. The clockticked loud and disagreeably. I determined not to speak till I wasspoken to; but after a time the silence grew irksome, and the tickingof the clock so loud, that I ventured on a slight cough, merely tobreak it. "Ahem, " said I, still intent on the "Comic Almanac. " Johnturned slowly round, made a half rise, as if out of compliment to mypresence, and returned to "The Drawing-Room Scrap Book, " which, however, he was now reading the right way. This would not do; Iresolved to wait a little longer, just a quarter of an hour by theclock, and see whether he would not have the common civility to speakto me. What a long quarter of an hour it was! The hand reached it atlast--it passed it--I gave him another five minutes. It was gettingpainful. I spoke, and the sound of my own voice quite startled me, yetwas my remark as harmless and commonplace as well could be. 

"John, " said I, "what time do we dine?"

"A quarter before eight, I believe, " answered John, quitegood-humouredly, and as if nothing had happened to estrange us. "Dearme, Kate, how early you're dressed!"

I could have cried with vexation; but I resolved, if possible, to finda sore place somewhere, and give him "one" before I had done with him;so I made a saucy face, and asked him, half laughing, whether "hedidn't think I had driven them very well from the station?"

"Inimitably, Kate, " was his reply; "I hadn't the least idea you wereso accomplished a charioteer. "

I should have burst into tears, I verily believe, but just then LadyScapegrace sailed in, and the usual forms of society had to be gonethrough; and she kissed me, and shook hands with Mr. Jones, as if shereally liked us; and we talked of the weather, and the shamefulstoppages of the train we had come by, and the general inconveniencesof railways; and presently more ladies came down, neat and crisp as ifturned out of a bandbox, followed by their lords in choking whiteneckcloths; and then Sir Guy himself appeared in a costume ofsurpassing splendour; but still, although in his evening dress, brilliant with starch and polish and buttons and jewellery, lookinglike a coachman in masquerade; and "dinner" was announced, and we allpaired off with the utmost ceremony, and I found myself seated betweenFrank Lovell and dear old Mr. Lumley, and opposite the elder MissMolasses, who scowled at me with an asperity of which I should havebelieved her unmeaning face incapable, as if she hated me on thisparticular evening more than all the other days of the year. I soondiscovered the cause. Frank was more attentive to me than I had everknown him, although there was a _something_ in his manner that I didnot altogether like, a sort of freedom that I had never remarkedbefore, and which made me colder and more reserved than usual. It wasevident he thought he might venture as far as he liked with a younglady who drove four horses and smoked a cigar the while. I felt I wasblushing _under my skin_; but I was determined to brave it all out, tohide from every living soul my own vexation and self-contempt. Once Icaught a telegraphic signal exchanged between my neighbour and MissMolasses, after which she seemed more at ease, and went on with herdinner in comfort. I was so angry now that I turned my shouldertowards Master Frank, and took refuge with my dear old friend Mr. Lumley, who, utterly regardless of the noise and flirtation his betterhalf was carrying on at the other end of the table, discussed hiscutlet quite contentedly, and prosed away to me in his usual kind, consolatory manner. I was one of his great favourites; in fact, hetold me so, then and there. He always called me "my dear, " and oftenvowed that if he had only the use of his legs he would walk to the endof the world to make me a thoroughgoing naturalist like himself. I wasgetting more at ease under his dear old wing. I had gone through somuch excitement during the day that this comparative inaction was apositive relief, and I was really beginning to enjoy a sort of repose, when the Baronet's horrid voice from the bottom of the table arousedme once more to an agony of shame and despite. 

"Do me the honour to drink a glass of champagne; the champagne to MissCoventry!" shouted Sir Guy; "you must require it after your exertion. Egad! my team won't get over it in a hurry--the roads were woolly andthe time short--hey, Miss Kate? But d----n me if the whipcord wasscarce. I've done that seven miles in all weathers, and a sweet sevenmiles it is, but I never came anything like the pace we did to-day. Your good health, Miss Kate; I'll have a fresh team put together foryou to-morrow, and a better cigar to smoke than the one I gave youto-day. "

I could willingly have sunk into the earth--nay, crept under thetable-cloth--anything to hide my dishonoured head. The ladies lookedat each other aghast, and then at _me_. The gentlemen, even thestiffest of them, turned boldly round to survey such a phenomenon asthe tobacco-smoking, four-in-hand Miss Coventry. Mrs. Lumley showeredher long ringlets all over her face with one toss of her pretty littlehead that I might not see how heartily she was laughing. LadyScapegrace good-naturedly made an immense clatter with something thatwas handed to her, to distract attention from my unfortunate self; butI believe I must have got up and left the room had not Cousin Johncome adroitly to the rescue. He had not been studying the daily paperfor nothing, and his voice rose loud and clear through the awfulsilence that succeeded Sir Guy's polished remarks. 

"Did you see that article in to-day's _Times_ about Ministers?" askedJohn, of the public in general; "there's another split in theCabinet--this time it's on the malt-tax. To-day, in the City, theywere betting five to two there's a general election within afortnight, and taking two to one Ambidexter is Premier before thefirst of next month. "

John! John! if you had saved my life I could not have been moreobliged to you. Many of the present party were members ofParliament--all were deep in politics. Most of them had seen theTimes, but none, like John, had the earliest intelligence from theCity. I have since had reason to believe he invented every syllable ofit. However, such a topic was too engrossing not to swamp every other, and no more allusions were made to my unfortunate escapade till LadyScapegrace had drawn on her gloves, bent her haughty head, and "madethe move, " at which we all sailed away to tea and coffee in thedrawing-room. 

Here I was more at my ease. Lady Scapegrace and Mrs. Lumley, hatingeach other, were, of course, inclined to be excessively kind to me--Iformed a bond of union between the foes. We three, particularly withsuch a weapon as the tongue of Mrs. Lumley, were more than a match forany number of our own sex, and most of the other ladies gave in atonce. Only Miss Molasses held out, and eyed me once more with anexpression of eager malice for which I could not easily account. Iremarked, too, that she seemed restless and fidgety, glanced anxiouslyever and anon at the door by which the gentlemen would join us, andseemed uncomfortable if any of us approached an empty chair which wasnext to her seat. I began to have my suspicions of Frank Lovell, notwithstanding all his asseverations. I determined to watch himnarrowly; and _if_ I found my misgivings were true--if I discovered hewas false and treacherous, why, then, I would--after all, what _could_I do? It stung me to think how powerless I was. 

Now, the establishment of Scamperley, although doubtless the bonds ofdomestic discipline were by no means over-tightly drawn, was one inwhich servants, from the stately curly-headed "groom of the chambers, "down to the little boy in green that was always too late for the post, had more than enough upon their hands. In the first place, nobody everseemed to think of going to bed much before daylight. This entailed abreakfast, protracted by one late sleeper after another tillluncheon-time; that meal was of unusual magnificence and variety;besides which, a hot repast, dressed by the French cook, andaccompanied by iced champagne, etc. , required to be served in one ofthe woods for the refreshment of Sir Guy's shooting guests. Then inthe afternoon there were constant fresh arrivals and rooms to be gotready; for when the host and hostess were at home they kept the housefull, and the day concluded with a large dinner-party, at which seldomless than sixteen sat down to discuss the inspirations of MonsieurHorsd'oeuvre and the priceless wines of Sir Guy. No wonder theservants looked tired and overworked, though I fancy the luxury andgood living _downstairs_ was quite equal to that which elicitedencomiums from _bon-vivants_ and connoisseurs above. Nevertheless, itwas but just that they too should have their share of relaxation andamusement; therefore did Sir Guy in his generosity give an annualservants' ball, which he attended and opened himself in a state ofhilarity not calculated to inspire much respect amongst his retainers. He had, however, sufficient self-command invariably to select as hispartner the prettiest maidservant in his establishment. But if thebaronet failed in his dignity as head of the house, her ladyship hadenough for both. She looked like a queen as she sailed in, amongst herown domestics and all the retainers and hangers-on for miles round. Onthe evening in question it amused me much to see the admiration, almost the adoration, she elicited from old and young. No wonder: thatstately form, that queenly brow, had been bent over many a sick-bed;those deep, thrilling tones had spoken words of comfort to many ahumble sufferer; that white hand was ever ready to aid, ever open torelieve; good or bad, none ever applied to Lady Scapegrace in vain. 

"The virtuous it is pleasant to relieve and make friends of, " she hasoften said to me in her moments of confidence; "the wicked it is aduty to assist and to pity. Who should feel for them, Kate, if Ididn't? God knows I have been wicked enough myself. "

The men-servants never took their eyes off her, and I fear made butsorry partners to the buxom lasses of the household till "my lady" hadleft the room. I saw two stable-boys, evidently fresh arrivals, whoseemed perfectly transfixed with admiration, as at an apparition suchas they had never pictured to themselves in their dreams; and onerough fellow, a sort of under-keeper in velveteen, with the frame of aHercules and a fist that could have stunned an ox, having gazed at heropen-mouthed for about ten minutes without winking an eyelash, struckhis hand against his thigh, and exclaimed aloud to his owninexpressible relief, though utterly unconscious of anything but thepresence which so overpowered him, --

"Noa, dashed if ever I _did_!"

This was soon after "my lady" had sailed into the servants' hall atthe head of her guests. It was the custom of the place for all the"fashionables" and smart people who were actually in the house toattend the servants' ball, most of us only staying long enough to setthe thing going with spirit, though I believe some of the youngdandies who found partners to their liking remained to the end, and"kept it up" till daylight. Down we all went, as soon as the gentlemenhad finished their wine and discussed their coffee in thedrawing-room, down we went, through stone passages and longunderground galleries into a splendidly-lighted apartment, somewhatdevoid of furniture, but decorated with evergreens, and furtheradorned by a sort of muslin transparency hanging from the roof. Thiswas the servants' hall, and although on a stone floor, a capital roomfor dancing it was. We were all soon provided with partners. Sir Guy, much to her triumph, selected my maid, Gertrude. Lady Scapegracepaired off with the steward, a fat, rosy man, who quite _shone_ withdelight at the honour. The French cook carried off Miss Molasses, withwhose native stupidity I thought the vivacious foreigner seemed alittle disappointed. Frank Lovell was taken possession of by the fathousekeeper, to whom he "did the amiable, " as Frank had the knack ofdoing to anything with a petticoat. Cousin John handed off a statelydamsel, whom I afterwards recognized as the upper housemaid, and I wasclaimed by a dapper little second-horse rider, of whom I flattermyself I made a complete conquest by the interest I took in hisprofession and the thorough knowledge I displayed of its details. Ihad to make most of the conversation myself, certainly, for hisreplies, though couched in terms of the deepest respect, andaccompanied by a chivalrous deference for my sex to which I wastotally unaccustomed from the partners of a London ball-room, consisted for the most part of little more than "Yes, Miss, " and "No, Miss, " with an additional smooth of the smoothest, shiniest head Iever beheld. When I had exhausted the meets of the hounds for theensuing week, with a few general observations on the pursuit ofhunting, and the merits of that noble animal, the horse, I began toget high and dry for further topics, and was not sorry when threefiddles and a flute struck up their inspiriting tones, and away we allwent, "cross hands, " "down the middle and up again, " to the lively andby this time tolerably familiar air of "Sir Roger de Coverley. "

I am bound to confess that, as far as the servants were concerned, everything went on with the utmost propriety and respect. Sir Guy, indeed, pulled his partner about with an unnecessary degree of vigour, which at times almost degenerated into a romp, and squeezed my handsin "the Poussette" with an energy of affection which I could well havedispensed with; but every one else was a very pattern of politenessand decorum. In fact, the thing was almost getting stupid, when mylittle second-horse rider and myself, returning breathless from ourrapid excursion down some two-and-thirty couple, were "brought up, "startled and dismayed, by a piercing scream from at least that numberof female voices, all raised at the same instant. 

"Fire! fire!" exclaimed the tall housemaid at my elbow. 

"Save me! save me!" shrieked the fat housekeeper, plumping into FrankLovell's arms, and well-nigh bringing him to the ground, in which caseshe _must_ have crushed him. 

"Murder! murder!" shouted my idiot of a maid, Gertrude, rushingfrantically for the doorway, followed by Sir Guy, who was swearing, Iam sorry to say, most fearfully. 

"Stand still, fools!" I heard Lady Scapegrace exclaim in her deeptones, "and let nobody open the door!"

By this time there was a rush of all the women towards the door; andas the centre of the room was cleared, I saw what had happened. Themuslin transparency had caught fire--a large fragment of it was evennow blazing on the floor, and the consequences amongst all those lightfloating dresses and terrified women might have been indeed awful. Foran instant everybody seemed paralyzed--everybody but Cousin John;during that instant he had flung off his coat, and kneeling upon it, extinguished the flames. They were still blazing over his head: with adesperate bound he tore down the ill-fated transparency; regardless ofsinged hair and blistered hands, he clasped and pressed it, andstamped upon it, and smothered it. Ere one could have counted fiftythe danger was over and not a vestige of the fire remained. Howhandsome he looked with his brave face lighted up and his eyessparkling with excitement! Nobody could say John wanted expression ofcountenance now. The next moment he was quietly apologizing in hisusual tone to Lady Scapegrace for "spoiling her beautifultransparency, " and parrying her thanks and encomiums on his courageand presence of mind with an assurance that he "only pulled it downbecause he happened to be directly under it;" but he could not helpturning to me and saying, --

"Kate, I hope you were not much frightened. "

The words were not much, but they were uttered in the old kind voice;they rung in my ears all the evening, and I went to bed happier than Iever thought I could have been after such a day. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The Sunday at Scamperley, I am sorry to say, was hardly observed withthat degree of respect and strictness which is due to the one sacredday of the week. Very few people went to morning service, as indeedthe late hours overnight kept most of us in our rooms till eleven ortwelve o'clock, when we dawdled down to a breakfast that seemed tolengthen itself out till luncheon-time. To be sure, when the lattermeal had been discussed, and we had marked our reverence for the dayby a conversation in which we expressed our disapproval of thepersonal appearance, faults and foibles, and general character of ourfriends, some of us would declare an intention of attending afternoonchurch; on which subject much discussion would arise, and theprobability of the weather holding up would be volubly commentedon--the church being situated about a quarter of a mile from thehouse, and the way to it through the Park being so completelysheltered by evergreens that to have got wet, save in a downright_pour_ of rain, was next to impossible. At last we would get underway--the ladies mincing along with their magnificently coveredprayer-books, affecting an air of unwilling decorum; the dandiescarrying cloaks, shawls, and umbrellas for their respective goddesses, and following them, so to speak, under protest, as if there wassomething to be ashamed of in the whole proceeding. Lady Scapegracealways went early, and quite by herself; she sat apart, too, from herguests and relatives. Not so Sir Guy. It was his great delight tocreate as much noise and confusion as possible, that on his entrancethe respectable yeomen and humble parishioners might be dazzled withhis glory, and whisper one to another, "That be Sir Guy, " as hemarched to the front of his family pew in a blaze of wondrous apparel. It was natural that he should create a sensation with his red face andgaudy-coloured clothes, and huge, dyed whiskers, and the eternalflower in his mouth, which was always on duty save when relieved by acigar or a toothpick. Pew it could scarcely with propriety be called, inasmuch as it was more like a box at the opera than a seat in a placeof worship. We entered by a staircase outside the church, with aprivate door of our own; passing through which we found ourselves in avery comfortable chamber, with a good many chairs and sofas, ahandsome bookcase, and a blazing fire. This, again, led to a smallerapartment, into which Sir Guy would swagger with much unnecessarynoise and bustle. Throwing up a large window, he leaned over as itwere from a hustings, and, behold! we were at church. 

When the sermon was concluded Sir Guy shut the window down again, andwe took our departure, much edified, as may easily be imagined, by thelessons of meekness and humility which we had received in so becominga manner. From church we invariably proceeded to the kennel, where astout, healthy-looking keeper paraded the Baronet's pointers andsetters for the inspection of the ladies. Here Sir Guy took entirepossession of me once more. 

"Don't be alarmed, my dear, " said he, as a great bull-headed, black-and-white brute, surnamed Don, came blundering up and tried toput his muddy paws on my dress. Sir Guy's affectation of the"paternal, " and his odious way of calling one "my dear, " provoked meintensely; and I gave Don such a crack over his double nose with myparasol as broke the ivory handle of that instrument, and completelyquelled all further demonstrations of affection from the uninterestingbrute. Sir Guy was charmed. 

"Hit him hard, " said he; "he's got no friends. What a vixen it is! Howshe punished my near leader the other day! I _love_ that girl!"

The latter sentence, be it observed, was spoken _sotto voce_, andrequired, as indeed it received, no reply. 

"What interesting creatures!" exclaimed Miss Molasses, indicating anold pointer lady, who went swinging by with all the appearance ofhaving lately brought up a large and thirsty family. "Do tell me, canthat dog really _catch_ a hare?"

The keeper's face was a study; he was apparently a humorousindividual. But Miss Molasses addressed her remarks to Frank Lovell;and Frank, as in duty bound, replied. That girl was evidently makingup to him, and, thinking he was fond of field-sports, pretended totake an interest in everything connected with those pursuits for hissake. 

"Come and see the tame pheasants, Miss Coventry, " said Sir Guy. I knewwhat this meant: I knew it would entail a _tête-à-tête_ walk with myaversion, and I cast an imploring look at Frank, as much as to say, "_Do_ save me. " He caught my meaning in an instant, and skilfullyinterposed. Of course, as he accompanied us, so did Miss Molasses; butFrank and I lingered a little behind the rest of the party, made awrong turn in the shrubbery, and found ourselves, I never knew exactlyhow, taking a long walk all alone in the waning twilight. I don't knowwhat Aunt Deborah would have said to such proceedings, and I am quitesure Lady Horsingham would have been unspeakably shocked; but theseSunday walks were the custom of the country at Scamperley--and, afterall, it was not my doing, and consequently not my fault. 

I wonder why it is that, in the very convenient code of morality whichthe world has adopted for its private use, places and people should socompletely alter facts. You may do things with impunity in London thatwould destroy the character of a Diana in the country; and, again, certain rural practices, harmless--nay, even praiseworthy--whenconfined to a picturesque domain, if flourished before the eyes of themetropolis, would sink the performer to the lowest depths of socialdegradation. It is not what you _do_ that matters one whit, but whatthe world _thinks_ of your actions; and the gentlemen use a proverbwhich I have often heard in connection with certain racing enormities, that "One man may steal a horse, while another must not even _look ata halter_:" and if this be the case with that sex who arrogate tothemselves the exclusive privilege of doing wrong, how much more doesthe adage hold good with us poor, weak, trampled-upon women? LadyStraitlace may do what she likes: she assumes a severe air in society, is strict with her children, and harsh with her servants. In all ranksof her acquaintance (of course below that of a countess) she visitsthe slightest dereliction from female propriety with unrelentingbitterness. Woe be to the trespasser, high or low! The weapon isalways ready to probe and gash and lacerate; the lash is constantlyraised, "swift to smite and never to spare. " But who would venture tospeak a word against the decorum of Lady Straitlace? If she goes outin the dark, 'tis to visit a sick friend; if she encourages youngAntinöus to be what ladies call continually "in her pocket, " that isonly in order to give the lad good advice and keep him out ofmischief. Major Ramrod is never out of the house; but what then? Thevisits of fifty Major Ramrods would not entitle the world to breathe awhisper against a person of such strict propriety as Lady Straitlace. But how that same forbearing world indemnifies itself on poor Mrs. Peony! It is never tired of shrugging its worldly shoulders andraising its worldly hands and eyebrows at the sayings and doings ofunfortunate Mrs. Peony. 

"Did you hear of her going to the bachelors' ball with three gentlemenin a fly?" (Nobody thinks it worth while to specify that the threeLotharios consisted of her grandfather, her husband, and her nephew. )"Did you see her drop her bracelet, to make young Stiffneck pick itup? Do you know that she takes morning walks with Colonel Chanticleer, and evening strolls with Bob Bulbul? She chatters, she laughs, sheflirts, she makes eyes; she's bad style, she's an odious woman; 'ponmy word, I don't know whether mamma will go on visiting her!"

And why should the world make this dead set at poor Mrs. Peony? She isgood-looking, soft-hearted, and unaffected; she laughs when she ispleased, and cries when she is touched. She is altogether frank, andnatural, and womanly. Can these be good reasons for running her down?Heavens knows! but run down she is, just as the hypocritical LadyStraitlace is cried up. Well, we must take things as they are and makethe best of them. So Frank and I walked on through the pleasant fieldsin the darkening twilight, and I, for one, enjoyed it excessively, andwas quite sorry when a great bell sounding from the house warned usthat it was time to return, and that our absence would too surely bethe subject of remark should we linger out of doors any longer. Inever knew Frank so agreeable; on every topic he was brilliant, andlively, and amusing. Only once, in some casual remark about thefuture, there was a shade of melancholy in his tone, more like what heused to be formerly. Somehow, I don't think I liked him so well in hisbest spirits; perhaps I was myself changed in the last few weeks. Iused often to think so. At first, during that walk, I feared lestFrank should touch upon a topic which would have been far fromunwelcome a short time ago. I soon saw he had not the slightestintention of doing so, and I confess I was immensely relieved. I haddreaded the possibility of being obliged at last to give a decidedanswer--of having my own fate in my own hands, and feeling totallyincapable of choosing for myself. But I might have spared my nervesall such misgivings: my cavalier never gave me an opportunity of evenfancying myself in such a dilemma till just as we reached the house, when, espying Mrs. Lumley and Miss Molasses returning from _their_stroll, he started, coloured up a little, like a guilty man, and actedas though he would have escaped their notice. I was provoked. 

"Don't desert your colours, Captain Lovell, " I said, in a firm voice;"Miss Molasses is looking for you, even now. "

"Unfeeling, " muttered Frank, biting his lip, and looking reallyannoyed. "O Miss Coventry! O Kate! give me an opportunity ofexplaining all. "

"Explain nothing, " was my reply; "we understand each other perfectly. It is time for me to go in and dress. "

So I marched into the house, and left him looking foolish--if Frankever _could_ look foolish--on the doorstep. As I hurried along thepassages I encountered Lady Scapegrace. 

"What's the matter, Kate?" said she, following me into my room; "youlook as if something had happened. No bad news, I trust, from AuntDeborah?"

I burst into tears. Kindness always overcomes me completely, and thenI make a fool of myself. 

"Nothing's the matter, " I sobbed out; "only I'm tired and nervous, Lady Scapegrace, and I want to dress. "

My hostess slipped quietly out of the room, and presently returnedwith some sal volatile and water: she made me drink it every drop. 

"I must have a talk to you, Kate, " said she, "but not now; thedinner-bell will ring in ten minutes. " And she too hurried away toperform her toilette. 

As I get older I take to moralizing, and I am afraid I waste a gooddeal of valuable time in speculating on the thoughts, ideas, and, soto speak, the inner life of my neighbours. It is curious to observe alarge, well-dressed party seated at dinner, all apparently frank andopen as the day, full of fun and good humour, saying whatever comesuppermost, and to all outward seeming laying bare every crevice andcranny of their hearts, and then to reflect that each one of thethrong has a separate life, entirely distinct from that which he orshe parades before the public, cherished perhaps with a miser's careor endured with a martyr's fortitude. Sir Guy, sitting at the bottomof his table, drinking rather more wine than usual--perhaps because itwas Sunday, and the enforced decencies of the day had somewhat dampedhis spirits--looked a jovial, thoughtless, merry country gentleman, somewhat slang, it may be, not to say vulgar, but still open-hearted, joyous, and hospitable. Was there no skeleton in Sir Guy's mentalcupboard? Were there no phantoms that _would_ rise up, like Banquo'sghost, to their seat, unbidden, at his board? While he smacked hisgreat lips over those bumpers of dark red Burgundy, had he quiteforgotten the days of old--the friends he had pledged and made foolsof--the kind hearts he had loved and betrayed? Did he ever think ofDamocles and the hanging sword? Could he summon courage to look intothe future, or fortitude even to _think_ of the past? Sir Guy's was astrong, healthy, sensuous nature, in which the physical far outweighedthe intellectual; and yet I verily believe his conscience sometimesnearly drove him mad. 

Then there was my lady, sitting at the top of her table, the verypicture of a courteous, affable, well-bred hostess; perhaps, ifanything, a little too placid and immovable in her outward demeanour. Who would have guessed at the wild and stormy passions that could ragebeneath so calm a surface? Who would suppose that stately, reserved, majestic-looking woman had the recklessness of a brigand and thecaprices of a child? A physiognomist might have marked the traces ofstrong feelings in her deepened eyes and the lines about hermouth--damages done by the hurricane, that years of calm can neverrepair; but there had been a page or two in Lady Scapegrace's lifethat, with all his acuteness, would have astonished Lavater himself. Then there was Miss Molasses, the pink of propriety and"what-would-mamma-say" young ladyism--cold as a statue, and, as oldChaucer says, "upright as a bolt, " but all the time over head and earsin love with Frank Lovell, and ready to do anything he asked her at amoment's notice. There was Frank himself, gay and _débonnair_:outwardly the lightest-hearted man in the company; inwardly, I havereason to know, tormented with misgivings and stung by self-reproach. Playing a double game--attached to one woman and courting another, despising himself thoroughly the while; hemmed in by difficulties andloaded with debt, hampered by a bad book on "The Two Thousand, " andplaying hide-and-seek even now with the Jews--Frank's real existencewas very different from the one he showed his friends. So with therest of the party. Old Mrs. Molasses was bothered by her maid; Mr. Lumley puzzled by his beetles; his wife involved in a thousand schemesof mischief-making, which kept her in perpetual hot water: all, evenhonest Cousin John, were sedulously hiding their real thoughts fromtheir companions; all were playing the game with counters, of whichindeed they were lavish enough; but had you asked for a bit ofsterling coin, fresh from the Mint and stamped with the impress oftruth, they would have buttoned their pockets closer than ever--ay, though you had been bankrupt and penniless, they would have seen youfurther first, and _then they wouldn't_. 

So we flirted, and talked, and laughed, and adjourned to thedrawing-room, where, after a proper interval, we were joined by thegentlemen, who, in consideration of the day, consented for that oneevening in the week to forego their usual games of chance or skill, such as whist, billiards, and cockamaroo. But the essential inanity ofa fashionable party requires to be amused, so we set round a largetable, and played at "letters, " sedulously "shuffling" the handsomeivory capitals as we gave each other long jaw-breaking words, thedifficulties of which were much enhanced by their being usuallymisspelt, but which, nevertheless, formed a very appropriate vehiclefor what the world calls "flirtation. " I can always find out otherpeople's words much quicker than my own, and whilst I was puzzlingover "centipede, " and teasing Mrs. Lumley, who had given it me, forthe initial letter, I peeped over the shoulder of my next neighbour, Miss Molasses, and made out clearly enough the word she had justreceived from Frank Lovell. _She_ would not have discovered it for acentury, but I read it at a glance. I just _looked_ at Frank, whoblushed like a girl, took it back, vowing he had spelt it wrong, andgave her another. Did he think to throw dust in my eyes? There is astage of mental suffering at which we grow naturally clear-sighted. Ihad arrived at it long ago. Watching every action of my neighbours, Ihad yet ears for all that was going on around. Sir Guy, occupying aposition on the hearth-rug, with his coat-tails over his arms, washaranguing the clergyman of the parish, a quiet, meek little man, whodined at Scamperley regularly on Sunday, and appeared frightened outof his wits. He was a man of education and intellect, a ripe scholar, a middling preacher, and a profound logician; but he was completelyoverpowered by coarse, ignorant, noisy Sir Guy. 

"Driving--hey?" said the Baronet; "we're all fond of driving, here, Mr. Waxy: there's a young lady who will teach you to handle theribbons. Gad, she'd make the crop-eared mare step along. Have you gotthe old mare still? Devilish good old mare!"

No child of man is too learned, or too quiet, or too humble, to feelflattered at praise of his horse. Mr. Waxy blushed a moist yellow ashe replied, --

"Very good of you to remember her, Sir Guy; docile and safe, andgentle withal, Sir Guy. But I don't drive her myself, Sir Guy, " addedMr. Waxy, raising his hands deprecatingly, as who should say, "Heavenforbid!" "I don't drive myself, sir; no--no, my lad assumes the reins;and notwithstanding the potency of your Scamperley ale, Sir Guy, wemanage to arrive pretty safe at our destination. "

"Quite right, Mr. Waxy, " vociferated Sir Guy. "Did I ever tell youwhat happened to me once, when I took it into my head to drive my ownchariot home? Look ye here, sir, I'll tell you how it was. I wasunmarried then, Mr. Waxy, and as innocent as a babe, d'ye see? Well, sir, I'd been to a _battue_ at my friend Rocketer's; and what withstaying to dinner, and a ball and a supper afterwards, it was verylate before I started for Scamperley, and all the servants were drunk, as a matter of course. Why, sir, when I came out of the house therewere my carriage and horses standing in the line with some dozenothers, and devil a soul to look after 'em. What should you have done, Mr. Waxy? Sworn like a trooper, I'll warrant it!"

Mr. Waxy shook his head with an air of mild deprecation. 

"Well, sir, " continued Sir Guy, "I'll tell you what I did. I jumped onthe box, Sir, before you could say Jack Robinson. I put on my owncoachman's box-coat, Sir, and drove 'em home myself. Thinks I, 'I'llgive the rascals a precious benefit: they'll have to walk every mileof the way'--nine miles, and as dark as pitch, Mr. Waxy, as dark aspitch! Well, sir, I'd a London footman, who was a sharpish fellow, andused to dissipation in general; he heard the carriage drive off, andran to catch it. I gave _him_ a pretty good breather as I rattled downthe avenue. The fellow puffed like a grampus when he got up behind, making no doubt it was all right, and he hadn't been found out. Thehorses knew they were going home, and it wasn't long before I pulledup at my own door. Down gets John, all officiousness and alacrity tomake up for past enormities, and rings a peal that might waken thedead. Directly he hears them beginning to unbar he opens thecarriage-door and looks in. No master! The day was just dawning. Ishall never forget the fellow's face as he looked up, mistaking me, muffled as I was in my own livery, for his fellow-servant. 

"'I always told you how it would be, Peter, ' said he, turning up aface of drunken wisdom; 'and now it's come to pass. The devil's beenand took Sir Guy at last; and if he's as wicious there as he's beenhere, it's a precious bad bargain for both of 'em!'"

Poor Mr. Waxy was obliged to laugh, but he took his departureimmediately; and of course, directly there was a move, the ladies wentto bed. 

"Come to my room, Kate, " whispered Lady Scapegrace, as we lighted ourhand-candles--"you can go the short way through the boudoir--I want tospeak a word with you. "

CHAPTER XXII. 

"Kate, " said Lady Scapegrace, as she shut the door of her snugdressing-room and wheeled an easy-chair before the fire for mybenefit--"Kate, you're a foolish girl; it strikes me you are playing adangerous game, and playing it all wrong, moreover. I can see morethan you think. Do you know the difference between real diamonds andpaste? Not you, you little goose. But you _shall_, if I can teach ityou. Kate, have you ever heard me talked about? Did you ever hear anygood of me?" I was forced to answer both questions--the former in theaffirmative, the latter in the negative. 

"Do you believe I'm as bad as they give me credit for?" proceeded herladyship. 

"No, no!" I replied, taking her hand and kissing it; for I reallyliked Lady Scapegrace. "Let them say what they will, I won't believeanything bad of you at all. "

"I have had a strange life, Kate, " said she; "and perhaps not quitefair play. Well, the worst is over now, at any rate. I don't _much_care how short the remainder may be. Kate, did you ever hear I was amurderess?"

"No, no!" I repeated, taking her hand once more; for I was shocked andhalf frightened at the expression of her countenance. "I never heardanybody say more than that you were _odd_, and a flirt, and perhapsnot very much attached to Sir Guy. "

Lady Scapegrace shuddered. "I owe you a great deal, Kate Coventry, "she resumed--"a great deal more than I can ever hope to repay. Iconsider that you once saved my life, but of that I make smallaccount; you have done me a far greater kindness--you have interestedme; you have made me fond of you; you have taught me to feel like a_woman_ again. The least I can do in return is to watch you and warnyou--to show you the rock on which I made shipwreck, and beseech youto avoid it. Kate, you've heard of my Cousin Latimer; would you liketo see his picture?"

Lady Scapegrace rose, walked to a small cabinet, unlocked it, andproduced a miniature, which she placed in my hands. If the painter hadnot flattered him, Cousin Latimer was indeed a handsome boy. There wasgenius on his wide, bold forehead, and resolution in his firm, well-cut mouth; his large dark eyes betrayed strong passions and keenintelligence, whilst high birth was stamped on his fine features andchivalrous expression of countenance. Poor Cousin Latimer!

"Look at that, Kate, " said Lady Scapegrace, in low chilling tones;"the last time I saw him that was his very image. Thank God, I neverbeheld him when those kind features were cold and rigid--that whiteneck gashed by his own hand! O Kate! 'tis a sad story. I have notmentioned it for twenty years; but it's a relief to _talk_ of it now. Surely I was not altogether to blame; surely he might have given metime; he need not have been so hasty--so desperate. 

"Listen, Kate. I was one of a large family of girls. All my sisterswere beautiful; all were vain of their charms. As I grew up, I heardnothing talked about but conquests, and lovers, and captivations. Ithought, to dazzle and enslave the opposite sex was the noblest aim ofwoman. Latimer was brought up with us: we called him 'cousin, ' thoughhe was in reality a very distant connection. Poor boy! day by day Icould see he was growing more and more attached to me. Latimer alwaysbrought me the earliest roses. Latimer would walk miles by the side ofmy pony. Latimer helped me with my drawing, and did my commissions, and turned the leaves when I played on the pianoforte, and hung overthe instrument when I sang. In short, Latimer was my slave, body andsoul; and the consequence was, Kate, that I cared very little for him. My sisters, to be sure, joked me about my conquest; and I felt, Iconfess, a proper pride in owning a lover like the rest; but of realaffection for him I had then very little; and I often think, my dear, that we women seldom value devotion such as his till too late. I wasnot old enough to think seriously of marriage; but Latimer wasconvinced I should become his wife, and (poor fellow!) made all hisarrangements and schemes for the future under this idea, with aforethought scarcely to be expected from one so young. 

"Well, years crept on, and I 'came out, ' as you young ladies call it, and was presented at court, and went to balls, and began to make themost of my time, and enjoy life after the manner of my kind. Ofcourse, I was no wiser than my elders. I danced, and smiled, andflirted, as I had seen my sisters do; and the more partners I couldrefuse the better I was pleased. One day Cousin Latimer came to me, and spoke out honestly and explicitly. He told me of all his hopes, his misgivings, his future as I had the power to make it, and hislove. I was pleased and flattered. I felt that I liked Cousin Latimerbetter than any one in the world; but there were two things I likedeven better than Cousin Latimer: these were power and admiration. Ofthe former I never could obtain as much as I coveted; of the latter Idetermined to take my fill. We were that night to have a grand ball inthe house, and were much occupied with decorating the rooms, and otherpreparations, such as we girls delighted in. I put off Latimer withhalf-promises and vague assurances, which sent him away more in lovewith me than ever. I was to dance the first quadrille with him. It wasan engagement of at least a month's standing, and he had ratherwearied me by too often reminding me of it. 

"There was a regiment of hussars quartered in our neighbourhood, andwe were well acquainted with most of the officers. The more so, as oneof my sisters was engaged to be married to the major, who, by the way, ran away from her a year afterwards. One of these officers, a captainin the regiment, was an especial flirt of mine; he was a good-looking, agreeable man, and a beautiful waltzer. I recollect the night as wellas if it was yesterday--the officers arriving in their uniforms; myfather standing behind us, proclaiming aloud his pride in his sixhandsome daughters; Cousin Latimer claiming my hand for the firstdance, and my refusal, notwithstanding my long promise, on the pleathat I was engaged to Captain Normanton. Poor boy! I can see hispained, eager face now. 'You do what you like with me, ' he said; 'butyou _must_ dance the next. ' I laughed and promised. 

"Captain Normanton was very agreeable; he was the most dashing-lookingman in the room, and I liked the vanity of parading him about in hisuniform, and showing my sisters and others the power I had over CousinLatimer. Once more the latter claimed my promise, and once more Ithrew him over. I glanced triumphantly at him as he watched me from acorner; and the more he gazed, the more _I acted at him_, as if I wasmaking violent love to my partner. Somehow, without looking, I sawevery shade of Latimer's countenance. Once or twice I had compassion, but there was the excitement of vanity and novelty to lure me on. 

"For the first time in my life I knew how much it was possible for mento care for us, and I could not resist torturing my victim to theutmost. Fool that I was! Cousin Latimer came up to me once more. Though annoyed and hurt, he mustered a good-humoured smile as he said, 'For the _third_ and _last_ time, will you dance with me?' 'But youdon't waltz half as well as Captain Normanton, ' I replied; 'I like_him_ best;' and away I whirled again with the delighted hussar. 

"The instant I had spoken, I felt I had gone too far. I would havegiven anything to unsay those foolish words, but it was too late. WhenI stopped, panting and breathless, after the dance, Cousin Latimercame quite close to me. I never saw a face so changed: he was deadlypale, and there was a sweet, melancholy expression in his countenancethat contrasted strangely with the wild gleam in his eye. He spokevery low, almost softly, but in a voice I had never heard before. Heonly said, 'God forgive you, dear; you try me too much. ' I never sawhim again, Kate--never. 

"When I heard what had happened, I was laid up for months with brainfever. They cut all my hair off; they pinioned me; they did all thatskill and science could do, and I recovered. Would to God that I haddied! I do not think my head has ever been right since. 

"Kate! Kate! would you have such feelings as mine? Should you like tolive all your life haunted by one pale face? Would you wish never toenjoy a strain of music, a gleam of sunshine, a single, simple, natural pleasure, because of the phantom? Be warned, my dear, beforeit is too late. I tell you honestly, I never forgot him; I tell you, Inever forgave myself. What did I care for any of them, except poorAlphonse--and I only liked Alphonse because he reminded me of thedead. Do you think I was not a reckless woman when I married Sir Guy?

"Do you think I have not been punished and humiliated enough? Heavenforbid, my dear, that your fate should resemble mine! I read yourfeelings far more plainly than you do yourself. You have a kind, generous, noble heart deeply attached to you. Don't be a fool, as Iwas; don't throw him over for the sake of an empty-headed, flirting, good-for-nothing roué, who will forget you in a fortnight. Stronglanguage, Kate, is it not? But think over what I have told you. Good-night, dear. What would I give to yawn as honestly as you do, andto sleep sound once again, as I used to sleep when I was a girl!"

I took my candle, and kissed Lady Scapegrace affectionately as Ithanked her, and wished her "good-night. " It was already late, and myroom was quite at the other end of the house. As I sped along, devoutly trusting I should not meet any of the gentlemen on their wayto bed, I spied a figure advancing towards me from the end of a longcorridor. It was attired in a flowing dressing-gown of crimson silk, with magnificent Turkish slippers, and carried a hand candlestick muchoff the perpendicular, as it swayed up the passage in a somewhatdevious course. When it caught sight of me, it extended both its arms, regardless of the melted wax with which such a manoeuvre bedaubed thewall, and prepared, with many endearing and complimentary expressions, to bar my further progress. 

The figure was no less a person than Sir Guy, half tipsy, proceedingfrom his dressing-room to bed. What to do I knew not. I shuddered atthe idea of meeting the Baronet at such an hour, and in so excited astate. I loathed and hated him at all times, and I quite trembled nowto face his odious compliments and impertinent _double entendres_. Myhunting experience, however, had given me a quick eye to see my wayout of a difficulty; and espying a green baise door on my right Irushed through it, and down a flight of stone steps that led I knewnot where. Giving a view-holloa that must have startled every lightsleeper in the house, Sir Guy followed close in my wake, dropping thesilver candlestick with a most alarming clatter. I saw I had not thespeed of him to any great extent, so I dodged into the first emptyroom I came to, and blowing out my light, resolved to lie there_perdue_ till my pursuer had overrun the scent. 

The manoeuvre answered admirably so far. I heard the enemy swearingvolubly as he blundered along the passage, thinking I was still beforehim; and I now prepared to grope my way back in the dark to my ownroom. But I had not escaped yet. To my infinite dismay, I heard thevoices of gentlemen wishing each other the usual "Good-night, oldfellow, " and proceeding along the passage from the direction of thesmoking-room. Horror of horrors! a light approached the door of thevery room in which I had taken refuge; in another second he wouldenter--the man would find me in his room. He stopped a moment on thethreshold to fire a parting jest at his companions, and the light fromhis candle showed me my only chance. A covered showerbath stood in thecorner of the apartment, and into that shower-bath I jumped, closingthe curtains all round me, but, as may be easily believed, taking veryparticular care not to pull the string. Scarcely was I fairlyensconced before Frank Lovell made his appearance; and I saw at once, through a hole in the curtains, that he was the lawful occupier andpossessor of the apartment. 

Here was a predicament indeed! If the emergency had not been sodesperate, I must have fainted. "Good gracious, " I thought, "if heshould lock the door!" Frank, however, seemed to have no suchintention; I believe this is a precaution gentlemen seldom adopt. Onthe contrary, he proceeded to make himself thoroughly at home. Lighting his candle, he leisurely divested himself of his coat, waistcoat, and neckcloth, enfolded his person in a large loosedressing-gown, leaned his head on both hands, and gave a deep sigh. Apparently much relieved by this process, he took up his hair-brushes, and after a good refreshing turn at his locks and whiskers, and amuttered compliment to his own reflection in the glass, that soundedvery like "You fool!" he unlocked a small writing-case, and producingfrom it a little bundle of letters, tied up with pink ribbon, selectedthem one by one, and read them over from beginning to end, kissingeach with devout fervour as he replaced it carefully in its envelope. I would have given a great deal to know who they were from; theirperusal seemed to afford him mingled satisfaction and annoyance; buthe sighed heavily again, and I saw he had a long lock of hair in hisfingers, which he gazed at till the tears stood in his eyes. He kissedit, the traitor! and fondled it, and spoke to it, and clasped it tohis heart (men are just as great fools as we are). Whose could it be?Not mine, certainly, for I never gave him such a thing; MissMolasses'? No; hers was black, and rather coarse; this was a silkychestnut. Could it have belonged to Mrs. Lumley? Hers was very muchthe colour, and I often thought Frank rather _épris_ with her. Nonsense! that lively lady had not an atom of sentiment in hercomposition; she would just as soon have thought of working him acounterpane!

I was so interested in my discoveries that I forgot altogether my owncritical position, the impracticability of escape till Frank had goneto sleep, the chance of arousing him as I went out, or, more alarmingstill, the awful possibility of his lying awake all night. Whenmorning dawned, concealment could no longer be preserved, and what todo then? I meditated a bold stroke. To rush from my hiding-place, blowout both the candles before my host had recovered his surprise, andthen run for it. Thrice was I on the eve of this perilous enterprise. Thrice my courage failed me at the critical moment. The fourth time Ithink I should have gone, when a knock at the door arrested myattention, and Frank's "Come in" welcomed a visitor whose voice I wellknew to be that of Cousin John. The plot began to thicken. It wasimpossible to get away now. 

"Lovell, " said John, in an unusually grave voice, "I told you I wantedto speak a word with you, and this is the only time I can make sure offinding you alone. "

Frank was busy huddling his treasures back into the writing-case. 

"Drive on, old fellow, " said he, "there's lots of time; it's not twoo'clock yet. "

"Lovell, " proceeded John, "you are an old friend of mine, and I have agreat regard for you, but I have a duty to perform, and I must gothrough with it. Point-blank, on your honour as a gentleman, I askyou, _Are you_ or _are you not_ engaged to be married to MissMolasses?"

Frank coloured, hesitated, looked confused, and then got angry. 

"No intimacy can give you a right to ask such a question, " he replied, talking very fast and excitedly: "you take an unwarrantable liberty, both with her and me. Who told you I was going to be married at all?or what business is it of yours whether I am married or not?"

John began to get heated too, but he looked very determined. 

"I am sorry you should take it thus, " he replied, "for you force me tocome at once to the point. As the nearest relation and naturalguardian of my cousin, Miss Coventry, I must ask your intention withregard to that young lady. I have often remarked you paid her greatattention, but it was not till to-day that I heard your name coupledwith hers, and a doubt expressed as to which of the ladies I havementioned you meant to honour with your preference. I don't want toquarrel with you, Frank, " added John, softening, "I don't want tomistrust your good feelings or your honour. Perhaps you don't know heras well as I do; perhaps you can't appreciate her value like me. Manymen would give away their lives for her--would think no sacrifice toodear at which to purchase her regard. Believe me, Frank, she's worthanything. If you have proposed to her, as I have reason to think youmust have done, confide in me; I will smooth all difficulties; I willarrange everything for you both. God knows I love her better thananything on earth; but _her_ happiness is my first consideration, andif she likes you, Frank, she shall marry you. "

Captain Lovell seemed to be of a different opinion. He bit his lip, looking angry and annoyed. 

"You go too fast, Mr. Jones, " he replied very stiffly; "I have nevergiven the young lady you mention an opportunity of either accepting orrefusing me. If ever _I am_ fool enough to marry, I shall take theliberty of selecting my own wife, without consulting your taste; and Ireally cannot undertake to wed every lively young lady thatcondescends to flirt with me, merely _pour passer le temps_. "

John's face grew dark with anger. How noble he looked as he squaredhis fine figure and reared his gallant head, standing erect before hisenemy, and scanning him from top to toe. He was very quiet too; heonly said, --

"Captain Lovell, I claim a brother's right to protect Miss Coventry'sreputation, and as a brother I demand reparation for the wrong youhave done her; need I say any more?"

"Not another syllable, " replied Frank Lovell carelessly. "Whenever youlike, only the sooner the better. Popham always acts for me on theseoccasions; he don't go away till to-morrow afternoon, so I refer youto him. I'm getting sleepy now, Mr. Jones. I wish you a good-night. "

Cousin John took up his candle, and retired. Never in my life had Ibeen in such a position as this. That there would be a duel I had notthe slightest shadow of doubt--and all for my sake. That my gallant, generous, true-hearted cousin should have behaved so nobly, sounselfishly, did not surprise me; but that he should be sacrificed tohis devoted fidelity--I could not bear to think of it for a moment!How I loved him now! How I wondered that I could ever have comparedthe two for an instant! How I resolved to make him full amends, and, come what might, to frustrate this projected duel! But what could Ido? In the first place, how was I to get out of the room?

My situation was so embarrassing, and at the same time so ridiculous, that I could with difficulty resist a hysterical inclination to laugh. Here I was, at all events, a close prisoner till Captain Lovell shouldgo to bed, and he seemed to have no idea of that rational proceeding, though it was now past three o'clock. He walked about the room, whistling softly. Once he came so near my hiding-place that I felt hisbreath on my cheek. "Good heavens, " thought I, "if he should take itinto his head to have a shower-bath now to brace his nerves!" At lasthe walked to a drawer, selected a cigar, lit it, and throwing open thewindow, proceeded deliberately to get out. I almost hoped he wouldbreak his neck! But I conclude there was a ledge or balcony of somesort to sustain him, and that he was accustomed to a nightly cigar inthat position. Here was a chance not to be lost! I bolted out of theshower-bath; I popped the extinguisher on one candle, and blew theother out at the same instant. I heard the smoker's exclamation ofastonishment, but heeded it not. I rushed through the door. I flewalong the dark passages, breathless and trembling; at last I reachedmy own room, more by instinct, I believe, than any other faculty, andhaving locked the door and struck a light, sat me down, in a state ofimmense confusion and bewilderment, to think what I should do next. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Who was there to whom I could apply? Sir Guy, of course, was out ofthe question. Then, in an affair of such delicacy, I could not consulta _young_ man; besides, these boys, I fancy, are always for fighting, right or wrong. A woman was no use, or I should have gone straightback to Lady Scapegrace. I pondered matters over and over again. Ithought of every horror in the way of duelling I had ever heard of. 

My own uncle was shot dead by a Frenchman when attached to the army ofoccupation at Cambray. It was a romantic story, and I had often heardthe particulars from my godfather, General Grape, who officiated ashis second. My uncle was a handsome, chivalrous youth, deeply attachedto a countrywoman of his own, whose picture he wore constantly nexthis heart. Such a man was not likely to become compromised withanother lady. It happened, however, that my uncle was quartered in thevicinity of a château belonging to a retired general of the GrandArmy, who hated an Englishman as a matter of taste, and a Britishofficer as a matter of duty. 

The French general had a charming daughter, and Rosalie, besides being_belle comme le jour_, was likewise what her acquaintance called _tantsoit peu coquette_. So she made love to my uncle on every availableopportunity, and of course, because he didn't care for her two pins, set her faithless heart upon him, as a woman will. To make thingssimpler, she was herself engaged to a young marquis in theneighbourhood. Well, my uncle, like a sensible man, did his best tokeep clear of the whole thing, but he could not avoid meeting Rosalieoccasionally in his walks, nor could he absolutely refuse to make heracquaintance, or refrain from perusing the letters she wrote to him, or, finally, prevent that forward young person from falling into hisarms, and bursting into tears, with her head on his shoulder. Themoment was, however, ill-chosen for so dramatic a scene, inasmuch asit occurred under the very noses of her father and her _fiancé_, bothof whom, unknown to the fair wanderer, had followed Rosalie, onpurpose to find out where it was she walked day after day soperseveringly. 

My uncle had scarcely recovered his surprise at the firstdemonstration ere he was staggered by the second--"_Malheureuse!_"exclaimed the father; "_Perfide!_" groaned the lover; "_Traître!_"shouted the marquis; "_Lâche!_" growled the general. My uncle turnedfrom one to the other, completely at a nonplus, Rosalie in themeantime clinging to his breast and imploring him passionately to saveher! My uncle's waistcoat came undone--his real mistress's miniaturedropped out; the sight added fuel to the fire of the belligerents. Nothing would satisfy them but his blood. In vain he protested, invain he swore, in extremely bad French, that he had no _penchant_ forRosalie, had never made love to her in his life; in fact, ratherdisliked her than otherwise. 

The Frenchmen _sacréed_, and fumed, and stormed at him, and jostledhim, till my uncle lost all patience, shook himself clear of Rosalie, who fell fainting to the ground, knocked each of his adversaries downin turn, and walked home to his quarters, very much disgusted with theworld in general, and the wilfulness of French young ladies inparticular. Of course he knew perfectly well it was not to end here. He sent for Grape, then a brother subaltern, and placed his honour inthat officer's hands. 

No message came for two days, that interval having elapsed inconsequence of a deadly quarrel between the marquis and the general asto who should take the thing up first. Grape firmly believes theydecided the matter with small swords; another version is, that theyplayed piquet for eight-and-forty hours to settle it--the best out ofso many games. Be this how it may, the general appeared as theostensible champion, and the marquis officiated as his _témoin_. Grape, as my uncle's second, chose pistols for the weapons, andselected a retired piece of ground in a large garden near the châteauas the lists. I give the conclusion in his own words:--

 "Horsingham was as cool as a cucumber, and the only thing that seemed to annoy him was a possibility that the cause of his _rencontre_ might be misrepresented to her he loved at home. 

 "'Tell her I was faithful to the last, ' said he to me as he squeezed my hand just before _I put him up_. 'Tell her, if I fall, that I never loved another; that my heart is pure and spotless as that white rose, which I will wear upon it for her sake. '

 "While he spoke, he plucked a white rose from a neighbouring bush, and in spite of my remonstrances fixed it in the breast of his close-fitting dark coat. 

 "'What are you about, Charlie?' I urged. 'This is no time for romance. Don't you know all these cursed Frenchmen are dead shots? You might as well chalk out a bull's eye over the pit of your stomach!'

 "He was a romantic, foolish fellow. I can see him now, drawing himself up, and looking like a knight of the olden time, with his brightening eye, and his smooth, unruffled forehead. "

 "'Give her the white rose, ' he only said. 'She'll keep it when it's withered, perhaps. And tell her I never wavered--never for an hour!'"

 "I knew too well how it would be. From the instant he came on the ground the old general never took his eye off his man. What an eye it was! Cold and gray and leaden; half shut, like that of some wild animal, with a pupil that contracted visibly while I watched it. I knew my friend had no chance. I did all I could. As I had the privilege of placing the men, I stationed our adversary where he would have to look over his shoulder to see my signal, whilst my friend's face was turned towards me. They were to fire when I dropped my hat. I dropped it with a flourish. Alas! all was of no use. The general shot him right through the heart. I knew he would; and the bullet cut the stalk of the rose in two, smashed the lower part of the miniature, leaving only the face untouched, and poor Charlie Horsingham never spoke again. As we lifted him and unbuttoned his waistcoat, the two Frenchmen gazed at the miniature with looks of anger and curiosity. Great was their astonishment to behold the portrait of another than Rosalie. The younger man was much affected; he groaned aloud and covered his face with his hands. Not so the old general. '_Tenez_, ' said he, wiping the barrel of his weapon on his glove, '_c'est dommage! je ne contais pas là-dessus; mais, que voulez-vous? Peste! ce n'est qu'un Anglais de moins. _'"

This is the carelessness with which men talk and think of human life;and here was my cousin about to go through the fearful ordeal, perhapsto be shot dead, like poor Charles Horsingham. The more I thought ofit, the more resolutely I determined to prevent it. I had never takenoff my dinner-dress--my candles were nearly burned down--the clockstruck five--in two hours it would be daylight. There was not a momentto lose. All at once a bright thought struck me. I would rouse goodold Mr. Lumley. He was clever, sensible, and respected; he waslikewise a man of honour and a gentleman. With all his infirmities, Ihad seen him show energy enough when he could do any good. I would goto him at once; and I left my room with the resolution that I, forone, would move heaven and earth ere a hair of Cousin John's precioushead should be imperilled on my account. 

I lit my candle and tripped once more along the silent passages. Iknew where Mrs. Lumley slept, and soon reached the door of her room;audible snores, base and treble, attested, if not the goodconsciences, at least the sound digestions of the inmates. I tappedloudly; no answer. Again I knocked till my knuckles smarted. A sleepy"Come in" was the reply to my summons. They probably thought it wasthe housemaid arrived to open the shutters. It was no time for falsedelicacy or diffidence, and I walked boldly into the apartment. By thelight of the night-lamp I beheld the happy pair. Of course, I am notgoing to describe the lady's dress; but all I can say is, that if everI am prevailed on to marry, and such a catastrophe is by no meansimpossible, I shall _not_ permit my husband to disfigure himself atany hour by adopting such a custom as that of dear, kind, good old Mr. Lumley. 

A white cotton nightcap, coming well over the ears, and tied under thethroat with tape to match, surmounted by a high _bonnet rouge_ like anextinguisher, the entire headdress being further secured by a broadblack ribbon, would make Plato himself look ridiculous; and a sleepyold face, with a small turn-up nose, and a rough stubbly chin ofunshaven gray, does not add to the beauty or the dignity of such arecumbent subject. However, what I wanted was Mr. Lumley; and Mr. Lumley I was forced to take as I could get him. 

"What's o'clock?" he murmured drowsily. "Come again to light the firein half an hour. "

"Why, it's Kate!" exclaimed his better half, rousing up, bright andwarm, in a moment, like a child. "Goodness, Kate, what are you doinghere?"

"Miss Coventry!" ejaculated her husband. "What is it? A perfectspecimen of the common house-spider, I'll lay my life. What anenergetic girl! Found it on her pillow, and lost not a moment inbringing it here! I'm eternally obliged to you. Where is it? Mind youdon't injure the legs. Pray don't stick a pin through the back. "

"Oh, Mr. Lumley!" I sobbed out, "it's worse than a spider. Get up, please; there's going to be a duel, and I want you to stop it. CaptainLovell and Cousin--Cousin----"

I fairly broke down here, and burst into tears; but the kind old manunderstood me in an instant. 

"Margery, my dear, " he shouted, "get me up directly; there's not amoment to lose. Oh, these boys! these boys! young blood and absence ofbrains! If they would but devote their energies to science. Don'tdistress yourself, my dear; I'll manage it all. Where does CaptainLovell sleep?"

"First door on the right, when you get down the steps in theBachelors' wing, " I replied unhesitatingly, much to the surprise ofMrs. Lumley. She would have known too, if she had been shut up therefor a couple of hours in a shower-bath. 

"I'll go to him as soon as I'm dressed, " promised Mr. Lumley. "Ipledge you my honour he shan't fight till I give him leave. Go to bed, my dear, and leave everything in my hands. Don't cry, there's a goodgirl. By the way, the housemaids here are infernally officious; youhaven't _seen_ a good specimen of the common house-spider anywhereabout, have you?"

I assured the kind-hearted old naturalist I had not; and as he wasalready half out of bed, I took my departure, and sought my owncouch--not to sleep, Heaven knows, but to toss and turn and tumble, and see horrid visions, waken as I was, and think of everythingdreadful that might happen to my cousin, and confess to my own hearthow I loved him now, and hated myself for having treated him as I had, and revel, as it were, in self-reproach and self-torture. It was broaddaylight ere I fell into a sort of fitful dose, so out-wearied andover-excited was I, both in body and mind. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

It is very disagreeable to face a large party with anything on yourmind that you cannot help thinking must be known, or at leastsuspected, by your associates. When I came down to breakfast, after ahasty and uncomfortable toilette, and found the greater portion of theguests assembled at that gossiping meal, I could not help fancyingthat every listless dandy and affected fine lady present wasacquainted with my proceedings during the last twelve hours, and waslaughing in his or her sleeve accordingly. I cast a rapid andfrightened glance round the table, and, to my infinite relief, beheldCousin John eating his egg as composedly as possible; whilst areassuring smile and a pleasant "Good-morning" from Mr. Lumley gave meto understand that his mediation had averted all fatal proceedings. 

The other guests ate and drank, and laughed and chattered much asusual; but still I could not help remarking on the face of each ofthem a subdued expression of intelligence, as though in possession ofsome charming bit of news or delightful morsel of scandal. LadyScapegrace was the first to put me on a footing of equality with therest. 

"We have lost some of our party, Kate, " said she, as she handed me mytea. "I confess I suspected it last year, in London. She is a mostamiable girl, and will have a large fortune. "

I looked at her ladyship as if I was dreaming. 

"You needn't be so surprised, Kate, " said she, laughing at my utterbewilderment; "don't you miss anybody? Look round the table. "

Sure enough the Molasses party were absent, and there was no FrankLovell. Then it was true, after all! He had sold himself to thatlackadaisical young lady, and had been making a fool of _me_, KateCoventry, the whole time. How angry I ought to have been! I wassurprised to find I was _not_. On the contrary, my first feeling wasone of inexpressible relief, as I thought there was now no earthlyobstacle between myself and that kind face on the other side of thebreakfast-table; though too soon a horrid tide of doubts and fearssurged up as I reflected on my own unworthiness and caprice. 

How I had undervalued that noble, generous character! How often I hadwounded and annoyed him in sheer carelessness or petulance, andthought little of inflicting on him days of pain to afford myself theshort and doubtful amusement of an hour's flirtation and folly!

What if he should cast _me_ off now? What if he had obtained aninsight into my character which had cured him entirely of any regardhe might previously have entertained for me? What if I should findthat I had all my life been neglecting the gem which I was tooignorant to appreciate, and now, when I knew its real value and wouldgive my life for it, it was beyond my grasp?

At all events, I would never forget _him_. Come what might now, Iwould never care for another. I felt quite glad Frank Lovell was asgood as married, and out of the way. The instant I had swallowed mybreakfast I put my bonnet on and rushed into the garden, for I felt asif fresh air was indispensable to my very existence. The first personI met amongst the flower-beds was dear old Mr. Lumley. He had hobbledout on his crutches purposely to give me an interview. I thanked him, as if he had been my father, for all his kindness; and he talked to megently and considerately, as a parent would to a child. 

"I promised you, my dear, that they should not fight, and I think Ihave kept my word. Your cousin, Miss Coventry, is a noble fellow, "said the old man, his benevolent features kindling into admiration;"but I had more difficulty with him than his antagonist. He would notbe satisfied till Captain Lovell had assured him, on his honour, thatyou had yourself declined his advances in a manner which admitted ofno misconstruction; and that then, and not till then, he consideredhimself free. You were right, my dear--I am an old man, and I take agreat interest in you, so do not think me impertinent--you were rightto have nothing to say to a _roué_ and a gambler. 

"I was not always the old cripple you are so forbearing with now. Ilived in the world once, and saw a good deal of life and men. Myexperience has convinced me that selfishness is the bane of thegenerality of mankind; but that nowhere is it so thoroughly developedas in those who live what people call 'by their wits, ' and enjoy allthe luxuries and pleasures of life by dint of imposing on the world. Iconsider Frank Lovell, though we all vote him such a good fellow, oneof that class, and I do not think he would have made a good husband tomy young friend Miss Coventry. Your cousin, my dear, is a character ofanother stamp altogether; and if, as I hear everybody say, he isreally to be married to that Welsh girl, I think you will agree withme that she has got a prize such as falls to the lot of few. "

Mr. Lumley was by this time out of breath; but I could not haveanswered him to save my life. Like one of his own favouritehouse-spiders, I had been unconsciously spinning a web of delightfulself-delusion, and here came the ruthless housemaid and swept it allaway. How blind I must have been not to see it long ago! John might bevery fond of pheasant-shooting, and I believe, when the game isplentiful and the thing well managed, that sport is fascinatingenough; but people don't travel night and day into such a country asWales, where there are no railroads, merely for the purpose ofstanding in a ride and knocking over a certain quantity of half-tamefowls. No, no; I ought to have seen it long ago. I had lost him now, and _now_ I knew his value when it was too late. Too late!--the knellthat tolls over half the hopes and half the visions of life. 

Too late!--the one bitter drop that poisons the whole cup of success. Too late! The golden fruit has long hung temptingly just above yourgrasp; you have laboured and striven and persevered, and you seize itat last and press it to your thirsty lips. Dust and ashes are yourreward. The fruit is still the same, but it is too late: your desirefor it is gone, or your power of enjoying it has failed you at thevery moment of fruition; all that remains to you is the keen pang ofdisappointment, or, worse still, the apathy of disgust. I might havemade John my slave a few weeks ago, and _now_--it was too provoking, and for that Welsh girl too! How I hated everything Welsh! Not AncientPistol, eating his enforced leek with its accompanying sauce, couldhave entertained a greater aversion for the Principality than I did atthat moment. 

Presently we were joined by Lady Scapegrace. She too had got somethingpleasant to say to me. 

"I told you so, Kate, " she observed, taking my arm, and leading medown one of those secluded walks--"I told you so all along. Yourfriend Captain Lovell proposed to Miss Molasses yesterday. Don't blamehim too much, Kate; if he's not married within three weeks, he'll bein the Bench. Never mind how I know, but I _do_ know. I think he hasbehaved infamously to you, I confess; but take comfort, my dear--youare not the first by a good many. "

I put it to my impartial reader whether such a remark, though madewith the kindest intentions, was not enough to drive any woman madwith spite. I broke away from Lady Scapegrace, and rushed back intothe house. We were to leave Scamperley that day by the afternoontrain. Gertrude was already packing my things; but I was obliged to goto the drawing-room for some work I had left there, and in thedrawing-room I found a whole bevy of ladies assembled over theirdifferent occupations. 

Women never spare each other; and I had to go through the ordeal, administered ruthlessly, and with a refinement of cruelty known onlyto ourselves. Even Mrs. Lumley, my own familiar friend, had no mercy. 

"We ought to congratulate you, I conclude, Miss Coventry, " said one. 

"He's a relation of yours, is he not?" inquired another. 

"Only a very great _friend_, " laughed Mrs. Lumley, shaking her curls. 

"It's a great marriage for _him_, " some one else went on to say--"farbetter than he deserves. Poor thing! he'll lead her a sad life; he's ashocking flirt!"

Now, if there is one thing to my mind more contemptible than another, it is that male impostor whom ladies so charitably designate by themild term "a flirt. " It is all fair for _us_ to have our littleharmless vanities and weaknesses. We are shamefully debarred from thenobler pursuits and avocations of life; so we may be excused forpassing the time in such trivial manoeuvres as we can invent to excitethe envy of our own and triumph over the pride of the opposite sex. But that a man should lower himself to act the part of a slave, "tiedto an apron-string, " and voluntarily be a fool, without being anhonest one--it is too degrading!

Such a despicable being does us an infinity of harm: he encourages usto display all the worst points of the female character; he cheats usof our due amount of homage from many a noble heart, and perhaps robsus of our own dignity and self-respect. Yet such is the creature weencourage in our blind vanity, and whilst we vote him "so pleasant andagreeable, " temper our commendation with the mild remonstrance, "though I am afraid he's rather a flirt!"

I saw the drawing-room on that morning was no place for me; so Ifolded my work, and curbing my tongue, which I own had a stronginclination to take its part in the war of words, I sought my ownroom, and found there, in addition to the litter and discomfortinseparable from the process of packing, a letter just arrived by thepost. It was in Cousin Amelia's hand, and bore the Dangerfieldpostmark. "What now?" I thought, dreading to open it lest it mightcontain some fresh object of annoyance, some further inquiries orremarks calculated to irritate my already overdriven temper out of duebounds. 

"Cousin Amelia never writes to me unless she has something unpleasantto say, " was my mental observation, "and a very little more would fillthe cup to overflowing. Whatever happens, I am determined not to cry;rather than face all those ladies with red eyes when I go to wish LadyScapegrace good-bye, I would forego the pleasure of ever receiving aletter or hearing a bit of news again!"

So I popped Cousin Amelia's epistle into my pocket without breakingthe seal, and put on my bonnet at once, that I might be ready tostart, and not keep Cousin John waiting. 

The leavetaking was got over more easily than I expected. Peoplegenerally hustle one off in as great a hurry as the common decenciesof society would admit of, in order to shorten as much as possible theunavoidable gêne of parting. Sir Guy, staunch to his colours, was todrive me back on the detested drag; but his great face fell severalinches when I expressed my determination to perform the journey _this_time _inside_. 

"I've bitted the team on purpose for you, Miss Kate, " he exclaimed, with one of his usual oaths, "and now you throw me over at the lastmoment. Too bad; by all that's disappointing, it's too bad! Come now, think better of it; put on my box-coat, and catch hold of 'em, there'sa good girl. "

"_Inside_, or not at all, Sir Guy, " was my answer; and I can be prettydetermined, too, when I choose. 

"Then perhaps your maid would like to come on the box, " urged theBaronet, who seemed to have set his heart on the enjoyment of _some_female society. 

"Gertrude goes with me, " I replied stoutly; for I thought Cousin Johnlooked pleased, and Sir Guy was at a nonplus. 

"Awfully high temper, " he muttered, as he took his reins and placedhis foot on the roller-bolt. "I like 'em saucy, I own, but this girl'sa regular vixen!"

Sir Guy was very much put out, and vented his annoyance on hisoff-wheeler, "double-thonging" that unfortunate animal mostunmercifully the whole way to the station. He bade me farewell with acoldness, and almost sulkiness, quite foreign to his usual demeanour, and infinitely pleasanter to my feelings. Besides, I saw plainly thatthe more I fell in the Baronet's good opinion, the higher I rose inthat of my _chaperone_; and by the time John and I were fairly settledin a _coupé_, my cousin had got back to his old, frank, cordialmanner, and I took courage to break the seal of Cousin Amelia'sletter, and peruse that interesting document, regardless of all thesarcasms and innuendoes it might probably contain. 

What a jumble of incongruities it was! Long stories about the weather, and the garden, and the farm, and all sorts of things which no oneknew better than I did had no interest for my correspondent whatever. I remarked, however, throughout the whole composition, that "mamma's"sentiments and regulations were treated with an unusual degree ofcontempt, and the writer's own opinions asserted with a boldness andfreedom I had never before observed in my strait-laced, hypocriticalcousin. Mr. Haycock's name, too, was very frequently brought on the_tapis_: he seemed to have breakfasted with them, lunched with them, walked, driven, played billiards with them, and, in short, to havetaken up his residence almost entirely at Dangerfield. The postscriptexplained it all, and the postscript I give verbatim as I read italoud to Cousin John whilst we were whizzing along at the rate offorty miles an hour. 

"_P. S. _--I am sure my dear Kate will give me joy. You cannot haveforgotten a _certain_ person calling this autumn at Dangerfield for a_certain_ purpose, in which he did not seem clearly to know his ownmind. Everything is now explained. My dear Herod (is it not a prettyChristian name!)--my dear Herod is all that I can wish, and assures methat all along _it_ was intended for me. The _happy day_ is not yetfixed; but my dearest Kate may rest assured that I will not fail togive her the _earliest intelligence_ on the _first opportunity_. TellMr. Jones I shall be married before him, after all. "

The last sentence escaped my lips without my meaning it. Had I notcome upon it unexpectedly, I think I should have kept it to myself. John blushed, and looked hurt. For a few minutes there was adisagreeable silence, which we both felt awkward. He was the first tobreak it. 

"Kate, " said he, "do you think I shall be married before MissHorsingham?"

"How can I tell?" I replied, looking steadfastly out of the window, whilst my colour rose and my heart beat rapidly. 

"Do you believe that Welsh story, Kate?" proceeded my cousin. 

I knew by his voice it _couldn't_ be true; I _felt_ it was a slander;and I whispered, "No. "

"One more question, Kate, " urged Cousin John, in a thick, low voice. "Why did you refuse Frank Lovell?"

"He never proposed to me, " I answered; "I never gave him anopportunity. "

"Why not?" said my cousin. 

"Because I liked some one else better, " was my reply; and I thinkthose few words settled the whole business. 

 * * * * *

I shall soon be five-and-twenty now, and on my birthday I am to bemarried. Aunt Deborah has got better ever since it has all beensettled. Everybody seems pleased, and I am sure no one can be betterpleased than I am. Only Lady Horsingham says, "Kate will _never_settle. " I think I know better. I think I shall make none the worse awife because I can walk, and ride, and get up early, and stand allweathers, and love the simple, wholesome, natural pleasures of thecountry. John thinks so too, and that is all I need care about. 

I have such a charming trousseau, though I am ashamed to say I takevery little pleasure in looking at it. But kind, thoughtful CousinJohn has presented Brilliant with an entirely new set of clothing; andI think my horse seems almost more delighted with his finery than hismistress is with hers. My Cousin and I ride together every day. Dearme, how delightful it is to think that I shall always be as happy as Iam now!

THE END. 

NELSON'S CLASSICS

A Library of Masterpieces, well printed, well bound in cloth, andunabridged. 

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME. 

 Tom Brown's Schooldays. THOMAS HUGHES. 

Since its publication more than half a century ago, this book has beenthe only school story which a boy recognizes as true to life. 

 Henry Esmond. W. M. THACKERAY. 

If the merit of a historical novel be the exact reproduction of thelife of another age, then _Esmond_ is the greatest of its class. Noother book has caught more perfectly the flavour of the later Stuarttimes. 

 Kenilworth. Sir WALTER SCOTT. 

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One of the most brilliant of Scott's romances. It presents awonderfully powerful and moving picture of the times of Louis theEleventh. 

 Ivanhoe. Sir WALTER SCOTT. 

The most popular novel of Sir Walter Scott, and the first which everyboy reads. It has given a living interest to an age which, in otherhands, becomes a mere catalogue of conventional antiquities. 

 Adam Bede. GEORGE ELIOT. 

The book which made Mrs. Carlyle feel "in charity with the whole humanrace" could be no ordinary one. _Adam Bede_ contains all GeorgeEliot's broad and catholic knowledge of life, and the characters areall drawn by the hand of a master. 

 The Mill on the Floss. GEORGE ELIOT. 

This is perhaps the best beloved of modern novels. It is the book inwhich George Eliot put most of her early life, and of all her heroinesMaggie Tulliver is the one on whom she has expended most care andtenderness. 

 Oliver Twist. CHARLES DICKENS. 

In this book Dickens achieved the dual purpose which he had alwaysbefore him. He wrote a great story, and he laboured also to redress agreat social scandal. In no other, perhaps, except _A Tale of TwoCities_, is the tragic power which lay behind all his humour apparentin so wonderful a degree. 

 The Old Curiosity Shop. CHARLES DICKENS. 

This book, largely biographical, has always been one of the mostpopular of the author's works. Humour and pathos are mingled in it, for if we have on the one hand Little Nell, on the other we have "TheMarchioness, " Mrs. Jarley, and the immortal Codlin and Short. 

 A Tale of Two Cities. CHARLES DICKENS. 

Sidney Carton is almost the only case in which Dickens has drawn ahero on the true heroic scale, and his famous act of self-sacrifice isunmatched in fiction. The book must be ranked very high among thegreat tragedies in literature. 

 A Child's History of England. CHARLES DICKENS. 

Amongst histories for children this is easily first. It possesses allDickens's wonderful force, vivacity, and keen insight into humannature, and his characteristic enthusiasm for all that is loyal, manly, and true. 

 Hard Times. CHARLES DICKENS. 

A bitter and scathing satire on the belief in "Facts, nothing butFacts" in education, the results developed in a tale of deep andpathetic interest. 

 Westward Ho! CHARLES KINGSLEY. 

This is the best novel ever written on the greatest age of Englishadventure. It is a saga of the Devonshire sailors who, like Drake, sailed to the unknown to found an empire for their queen, "as good asany which his Majesty of Spain had. " The story swings from start toclose at a breathless pace. 

 Hypatia. CHARLES KINGSLEY. 

This book is a remarkable instance of the range of Kingsley's powers. No difference could be greater than that between the stirring age ofElizabeth and that of Alexandria in the fifth century, when the worldwas occupied with barren ecclesiastical strife. Hypatia, the lastdefender of the pagan faith, is a wonderful study, and the whole bookis a brilliant picture of the passing of the old faiths of Greece andRome. 

 The Last Days of Pompeii. Lord LYTTON. 

A classical romance is always a difficult form of art, but LordLytton's is easily the most successful. He does not overload hisnarrative with antiquarian details, and the story moves rapidly to itsgreat climax. It is a brilliant and imaginative picture of the laterRoman civilization. 

 The Cloister and the Hearth. CHARLES READE. 

There are many who think this the greatest of all historical novels, and it is certain that there are few better. It is not a story so muchas a vast and varied transcript of life. It is also a delightfulromance, and Gerard and Margaret are among the immortals of fiction. 

 John Halifax, Gentleman. Mrs. CRAIK. 

This simple and candid study of one who lived up to the standard oftruth and honour and courtesy which an earlier age defined by the word"gentleman" is one of the most popular novels of last century, andthere is no sign that its attraction is waning. 

 Cranford. Mrs. GASKELL. 

To praise _Cranford_ at this time of day is an idle task. After beingovershadowed for a little, it has taken its place finally among themasterpieces of English fiction, along with Jane Austen and the _Vicarof Wakefield_. There has never been a more delightful and tender studyof English village life, or one in which insight is so joined withkindliness. 

 East Lynne, Mrs. HENRY WOOD. The Channings. 

Mrs. Wood has long been the most popular of writers, and thepublishers are glad to be able to add her two chief novels to theirseries. The whole world is familiar with her characters. 

 The Deerslayer, FENIMORE COOPER. The Last of the Mohicans, " The Pathfinder. "

Fenimore Cooper was the Scott of America, the man who, by turning hisown history into great romance, gave it immortality. Many years havepassed since the first publication of these books, and there have beenmany imitators, but their merits still remain unsurpassed. 

 The Three Musketeers. ALEXANDRE DUMAS. 

Dumas is, after Scott, the foremost of historical novelists, and _TheThree Musketeers_ is, by universal consent, his masterpiece. It tellsof a great companionship in arms, and the names of Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and D'Artagnan are among the most familiar to all lovers ofgood fiction. No man had so generous an imagination, so great a senseof drama, so boyish a love of high enterprises, or so masterly a powerof narrative. 

 Villette. CHARLOTTE BRONTË. 

From an artistic point of view, the most perfect of Charlotte Brontë'sstories. Practically an autobiography, it abounds with rich humour andkeen analysis of character. 

 Pride and Prejudice, JANE AUSTEN. Sense and Sensibility. "

Jane Austen's novels were Sir Walter Scott's especial favourites, andof recent years their charm has won for them a great revival ofpopularity. 

 Uncle Tom's Cabin. Mrs. H. B. STOWE. 

This is one of the books which have made history. It was the chiefinstrument in the abolition of slavery in America, and it has touchedthe conscience of mankind; but it is not only a great propagandistwork, it is also a brilliant story. 

 The Bible in Spain. GEORGE BORROW. 

One of the most brilliant and entertaining of books of travel. 

 The Pilgrim's Progress. JOHN BUNYAN. 

 Robinson Crusoe. DANIEL DEFOE. 

 Gulliver's Travels. DEAN SWIFT. 

Three immortal works, of which nothing remains to be said that has notbeen said over and over again. 

_In Preparation. _

 Silas Marner. GEORGE ELIOT. 

 Notre Dame. VICTOR HUGO. 

 * * * * *

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

The following misprints in the original have been corrected:

 men think they are begining to grow old! (beginning) the very personification of that danydism (dandyism) in London that would destory (destroy) "_Traitre!_" shouted the marquis; (Traître) The Frenchmen _sacreéd_, and fumed (sacréed)