MARRIAGE

A Novel by Susan Ferrier

"Life consists not of a series ofillustrious actions; the greater part of our time passes incompliance with necessities--in the performance of daily duties--inthe removal of small inconveniences--in the procurement of pettypleasures; and we are well or ill at ease, as the main stream of lifeglides on smoothly, or is ruffled by small and frequentinterruption. " -JOHNSON. 

EdinburghEdition

IN TWO VOLUMES

VOLUME I. 

LONDON

RICHARD BENTLEY & SON

Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen

1881

_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh. _

PREFATORY NOTE. 

MISS FERRIER'S Novels have, since their first appearance, sufferedcurtailment in all subsequent Editions. The present Edition is the firstreprint from the original Editions, and contains the whole of theomissions in other reprints. It is, therefore, the only perfect Editionof these Novels. 

Works which have received the praise of Sir Walter Scott and Sir JamesMackintosh, and been thought worthy of discussion in the _NoctesAmbrosianae, _ require no further introduction to the reader. The almostexceptional position which they occupy as satirizing the foibles ratherthan the more serious faults of human nature, and the caustic characterof that satire, mingled with such bright wit and genial humour, giveMiss Ferrier a place to herself in English fiction; and it is felt thata time has come to recognize this by producing her works in a form whichfits them for the library, and in a type which enables them to be readwith enjoyment. 

 G. B. 

NEW BURLINGTON STREET, _December__1881. _

MISS FERRIER'S NOVELS. [1]

In November 1854 there died in Edinburgh one who might, with truth, becalled almost the last, if not _the_ last, of that literary galaxy thatadorned Edinburgh society in the days of Scott, Jeffrey, Wilson, andothers. Distinguished by the friendship and confidence of Sir WalterScott, the name of Susan Edmonstone Ferrier is one that has becomefamous from her three clever, satirical, and most amusing novels _ofMarriage, The_ _Inheritance, _ and _Destiny. _They exhibit, besides, akeen sense of the ludicrous almost unequalled. She may be said to havedone for Scotland what Jane Austen and Maria Edgeworth have respectivelydone for England and Ireland--left portraits, painted in undyingcolours, of men and women that will live for ever in the hearts andminds of her readers. In the present redundant age of novel writers andnovel-readers, and when one would suppose the supply must far exceed thedemand from the amount of puerile and often at the same time prurientliterature in the department of fiction that daily flows from the press, it is refreshing to turn to the vigorous and, above all, healthy moraltone of this lady's works. To the present generation they are as if theyhad never been, and to the question, "Did you ever read _Marriage?"_ itis not uncommon in these times to get such an answer as, "No, never. Whowrote it?" "Miss Ferrier. " "I never heard of her or her novels. " It iswith the view, therefore, of enlightening such benighted ones that I penthe following pages. 

[1] Reprinted from the _Temple Bar_ Magazine for November 1878, Vol I. 

Miss Ferrier was the fourth and youngest daughter of James Ferrier, Writer to the Signet, and was born at Edinburgh, 7th of September 1782. Her father was bred to that profession in the office of a distantrelative, Mr. Archibald Campbell of Succoth (great grandfather ofthe present Archbishop of Canterbury). To his valuable and extensivebusiness, which included the management of all the Argyll estates, heultimately succeeded. He was admitted as a member of the Society ofWriters to the Signet in the year 1770. He was also appointed aPrincipal Clerk of Session through the influence (most strenuouslyexerted) of his friend and, patron, John, fifth Duke of Argyll, [1] andwas a colleague in that office with Scott. He also numbered among hisfriends Henry Mackenzie, the "Man of Feeling, " Dr. Hugh Blair, and last, though not least, Burns the poet. His father, John Ferrier, had been inthe same office till his marriage with Grizzel, only daughter andheiress of Sir Walter Sandilands Hamilton, Bart. , of Westport, countyLinlithgow. [2] John Ferrier was the last Laird of Kirklands, countyRenfrew, subsequently sold to Lord Blantyre. Mr. James Ferrier was thethird son of his parents, and was born 1744. [3] Miss Ferrier was in thehabit of frequently visiting at Inveraray Castle in company with herfather, and while there had ample opportunity afforded her of studyingfashionable life in all its varied and capricious moods, and which havebeen preserved to posterity in her admirable delineations of character. Her reason for becoming an authoress is from her own pen, as follows, and is entitled a preface to _The Inheritance_:--

[1] To this nobleman, in his later years, Mr. Ferrier devoted much ofhis time, both at Inveraray and Roseneath. He died in 1806. His Duchesswas the lovely Elizabeth Gunning. Mr. Ferrier died at 25 George Street, Edinburgh, January 1829, aged eighty-six. Sir Walter Scott attended hisfuneral. After his death Miss Ferrier removed to a smaller house, inNelson Street. 

[2] Sir Walter's father, Walter Sandilands of Hilderston, a cadet of theTorphichen family (his father was commonly styled Tutor of Calder), assumed the name of Hamilton on his marriage with the heiress ofWestport. 

[3] His brothers were: William, who assumed the name of Hamilton onsucceeding his grandfather in the Westport estate. He was in the navy, and at the capture of Quebec, where he assisted the sailors to drag thecannon up the heights of Abraham; m. Miss Johnstone of Straiton, co. Linlithgow; died 1814. Walter; m. Miss Wallace of Cairnhill, co. Ayr, father of the late Colonel Ferrier Hamilton of Cairnhill and Westport. Ilay, major-general in the army; m. First Miss Macqueen, niece of LordBraxfield, second, Mrs. Cutlar of Orroland, co. Kirkcudbright. He wasGovernor of Dumbarton Castle, and died there 1824. 

"An introduction had been requested for the first of these three works, _Marriage;_ but while the author was considering what could be said foran already thrice-told tale, it had passed through the press with suchrapidity as to outstrip all consideration. Indeed, what can be said forany of them amounts to so little, it is scarcely worth saying at all. The first was begun at the urgent desire of a friend, and with thepromise of assistance, which, however, failed long before the end of thefirst volume; the work was then thrown aside, and resumed some yearsafter. [1] It afforded occupation and amusement for idle and solitaryhours, and was published in the belief that the author's name neverwould be guessed at, or the work heard of beyond a very limited sphere. _'Ce n'est que le premier pas qu'il coute'_ in novel-writing, as incarrying one's head in their hand; _The Inheritance_ and _Destiny_followed as matters of course. It has been so often and confidentlyasserted that almost all the characters are individual portraits, thatthe author has little hope of being believed when she asserts thecontrary. That some of them were sketched from life is not denied; butthe circumstances in which they are placed, their birth, habits, language, and a thousand minute particulars, differ so widely from theoriginals as ought to refute the charge of personality. With regard tothe introduction of religious sentiment into works of fiction, thereexists a difference of opinion, which, in the absence of anyauthoritative command, leaves each free to act according to their ownfeelings and opinions. Viewing this life merely as the prelude toanother state of existence, it does seem strange that the future shouldever be_ wholly_ excluded from any representation of it, even in itsmotley occurrences, scarcely less motley, perhaps, than the human minditself. The author can only wish it had been her province to have raisedplants of nobler growth in the wide field of Christian literature; butas such has not been her high calling, she hopes her 'small herbs ofgrace' may, without offence, be allowed to put forth their blossomsamongst the briars, weeds, and wild flowers of life's common path. 

[1] It underwent several changes before its final publication in 1818. 

"Edinburgh, _April_ 1840. "

The friend on whose assistance she relied was Miss Clavering, daughterof Lady Augusta Clavering, and niece of the late Duke of Argyll. Betweenthis lady and our author an early friendship existed, which was severedonly by death. It commenced in 1797, when Miss Ferrier lost her mother, [1] and when she went with her father to Inveraray Castle she was thenfifteen, and her friend only eight. Miss Clavering became the wife of Mr. Miles Fletcher, advocate, but was better known in later years as Mrs. Christison. She inherited all the natural elegance and beauty of faceand form for which her mother, and aunt Lady Charlotte Campbell, were sodistinguished, and died at Edinburgh, 1869, at an advanced age. Whileconcocting the story of her first novel, Miss Ferrier writes to herfriend in a lively and sprightly vein:--

[1] Mrs. Ferrier _(nee_ Coutts) was the daughter of a farmer at Gourdon, near Montrose. She was very amiable, and possessed of great personalbeauty, as is attested by her portrait by Sir George Chalmers, Bart. , ina fancy dress, and painted 1765. At the time of her marriage (1767) sheresided at the Abbey of Holyrood Palace with an aunt, the HonourableMrs. Maitland, widow of a younger son of Lord Lauderdale's, who had beenleft in poor circumstances, and had charge of the apartments therebelonging to the Argyll family. After their marriage Mr. And Mrs. Ferrier occupied a flat in Lady Stair's Close (Old Town of Edinburgh), and which had just been vacated by Sir James Pulteney and his wife LadyBath. Ten children were the fruit of this union (six sons and fourdaughters), viz. --

1. John, W. S. , of 12 York Place, Edinburgh, d. 1851; m. Miss Wilson, sister of Professor Wilson, and father of the late Professor Ferrierof St. Andrews, N. B. 

2. Archibald Campbell, W. S. , d. 1814; m. Miss Garden. 

3. Lorn, d. 1801, at Demerara. 

4. James, d. In India, 1804. } }5. William Hamilton, d. 1804, in India. } Both Officers

6. Walter, W. S. , d. 1856; m. Miss Gordon. 

7. Jane (Mrs. Graham), d. 1846. 

8. Janet (Mrs. Connell), d. 1848. 

9. Helen _(_Mrs_. _ Kinloch), d. 1866, at Torquay, aged 90. 

10. Susan Edmonstone. 

"Your proposals flatter and delight me, but how in the name of Postageare we to transport our brains to and fro? I suppose we'd be pawning ourflannel petticoats to bring about our heroine's marriage, and lying onstraw to give her Christian burial. Part of your plot I like much, somenot quite so well--for example, it wants a _moral_--your principalcharacters are good and interesting, and they are tormented andpersecuted and punished from no fault, of their own_, _ and for nopossible purpose. Now I don't think, like all penny-book manufacturers, that 'tis absolutely necessary that the good boys and girls should berewarded and the naughty ones punished. Yet I think, where there is muchtribulation, 'tis fitter it should be the _consequence_ rather than the_cause_ of misconduct or frailty. You'll say that rule is absurd, inasmuch as it is not observed in human life: that I allow, but we knowthe inflictions of Providence are for wise purposes, therefore ourreason willingly submits to them. But as the only good purpose of a bookis to inculcate morality and convey some lesson of instruction as wellas delight, I do not see that what is called a _good moral_ can bedispensed with in a work of fiction. Another fault is your making yourhero attempt suicide, which is greatly too shocking, and destroys allthe interest his misfortunes would otherwise excite--that, however, could be easily altered, and in other respects I think your plot hasgreat merit. You'll perhaps be displeased at the freedom of my remarks;but in the first place freedom is absolutely necessary in the cause inwhich we are about to embark, and it must be understood to be one if notthe chief article of our creed. In the second (though it should havebeen the first), know that I always say what I think, or say nothing. Now as to my own deeds--I shall make no apologies (since they must bebanished from our code of laws) for sending you a hasty and imperfectsketch of what I think might be wrought up to a tolerable form. I do notrecollect ever to have seen the sudden transition of a high-bred Englishbeauty, [1] who thinks she can sacrifice all for love, to anuncomfortable solitary Highland dwelling [2] among tall red-hairedsisters and grim-faced aunts. Don't you think this would make a goodopening of the piece? Suppose each of us try our hands on it; the moralto be deduced from that is to warn all young ladies against runawaymatches, and the character and fate of the two sisters would be_unexceptionable. _ I expect it will be the first book every wise matronwill put into the hand of her daughter, and even the reviewers willrelax of their severity in favour of the morality of this little work. Enchanting sight! already do I behold myself arrayed in an old mouldycovering, thumbed and creased and filled with dogs'-ears. I hear theenchanting sound of some sentimental miss, the shrill pipe of someantiquated spinster, or the hoarse grumbling of some incensed dowager asthey severally inquire for me at the circulating library, and areassured by the master that 'tis in such demand that though he hasthirteen copies they are insufficient to answer the calls upon it, butthat each of them may depend upon having the very first that comes in!!!Child, child, you had need be sensible of the value of mycorrespondence. At this moment I'm squandering mines of wealth upon youwhen I might be drawing treasures from the bags of time! But I shall notrepine if you'll only repay me in kind--speedy and long is all that Irequire; for all things else I shall take my chance. Though I have beenso impertinent to your book, I nevertheless hope and expect you'll sendit to me. Combie [1] and his daughter (or Mare, as you call her) arecoming to town about this time, as I'm informed, and you may easilycontrive to catch them (wild as they are) and send it by them, forthere's no judging what a picture will be like from a mere pen-and-inkoutline--if that won't do, is there not a coach or a carrier? One thinglet me entreat of you: if we engage in this undertaking, let it be kepta profound secret from every human being. If I was suspected of beingaccessory to such foul deeds, my brothers and sisters would murder me, and my father bury me alive--and I have always observed that if a secretever goes beyond those immediately concerned in its concealment it verysoon ceases to be a secret. "

[1] Lady Juliana. 

[2] Glenfern. Dunderawe Castle, on Loch Fyne, was in Miss Ferrier's mindwhen she drew this sketch of a "solitary Highland dwelling. "

Again she writes to her friend and copartner in her literary work:--

"I am boiling to hear from you, but I've taken a remorse of conscienceabout Lady Maclaughlan and her friends: if I was ever to be detected, oreven suspected, I would have nothing for it but to drown myself. I mean, therefore, to let her alone till I hear from you, as I think we mightcompound some other kind of character for her that might do as well andnot be so dangerous. As to the misses, if ever it was to be publishedthey must be altered or I must fly my native land. "

[1] Campbell of Combie. 

Miss Clavering writes in answer:--

"ARDENCAPLE CASTLE, _Sunday Morning. -_

"First of all I must tell you that I approve in the most signal mannerof Lady Maclaughlan. The sort of character was totally unexpected by me, and I was really transported with her. Do I know the person who is theoriginal? The dress was vastly like Mrs. Damer, [1] and the manners likeLady Frederick. [2] Tell me if you did not mean a touch at her. I lovepoor Sir Sampson vastly, though it is impossible, in the presence of hislady, to have eyes or ears for anyone else. Now you must not think ofaltering her, and it must all go forth in the world; neither must themisses upon any account be changed. I have a way now of at leastoffering it to publication by which you never can be discovered. I willtell the person that I wrote it (indeed, quothà, cries Miss Ferrier, andno great favour; see how she loves to plume herself with borrowedfame!). Well, however, my way is quite sure, and the person would neverthink of speaking of it again, so never let the idea of detection comeacross your brain while you are writing to damp your ardour. 

[1] Daughter of General Seymour Conway, and a distinguished sculptor. She was niece of the fifth Duke of Argyll. 

[2] Lady Frederick Campbell is believed to have suggested the characterof Lady Maclaughlan to Miss Ferrier, and there is little doubt she wasthe original. She was the widow of Earl Ferrel's, of Tyburn notoriety, and was burnt to death at Coombe Bank, _Kent, _ in 1807. 

"Positively neither Sir Sampson's lady nor the foolish virgins must bedisplaced. "

Again she writes from Inveraray Castle (of date December 1810), eightyears before the work was published:--

"And now, my dear Susannah, I must tell you of the success of yourfirst-born. I read it to Lady Charlotte [1] in the carriage when she andI came together from Ardencaple, Bessie [2] having gone with mamma. Ifyou will believe, I never yet in my existence saw Lady C. Laugh so muchas she did at that from beginning to end; and, seriously, I was two orthree times afraid that she would fall into a fit. Her very words were, 'I assure you I think it without the least exception the cleverest thingthat ever was written, and in wit far surpassing Fielding. ' Then shesaid as to our other books they would all sink to nothingness beforeyours, that they were not fit to be mentioned in the same day, and thatshe felt quite discouraged from writing when she thought of yours. Thewhole conversation of the aunties [3] made her screech with laughing;and, in short, I can neither record nor describe all that she said; farfrom exaggerating it, I don't say half enough, but I only wish you hadseen the effect it produced. I am sure you will be the first author ofthe age. "

[1] Lady Charlotte Campbell, her aunt, better known latterly as LadyCharlotte Bury, and celebrated for her beauty and accomplishments. 

[2] Miss Mure of Caldwell. 

[3] These oddities were the three Misses Edmonstone, of theDuntreath family, and old family friends, after one or whom Miss Ferrierwas named. 

In another letter she writes:--

"I had an immense packet from Lady C. The other day, which I confessrather disappointed me, for I expected volumes of new compositions. Onopening it, what should it prove but your book returned? so I shall keepit safe till I see you. She was profuse in its praises, and so wasmamma, who said she was particularly taken with Lady Juliana's brother, [1] he was so like the duke. Lady C. Said she had read it alldeliberately and critically, and pronounced it _capital, _with a dashunder it. Lady C. Begs that in your enumeration of Lady Olivia'speccadilloes you will omit waltzes. "

[1] Lord Courtland. 

That dance had just been introduced in London (1811), and the season ofthat year Miss Clavering spent with her aunt, Lady Charlotte, in themetropolis, in a round of gaiety, going to parties at Kensington Palace(where the Princess of Wales [1] then lived), Devonshire House, and thewitty Duchess of Gordon's, one of the "Empresses of Fashion, " as Walpolecalls her. _Àpropos_ of waltzes, she writes to Miss Ferrier:--

[1] Lady Charlotte was one of the Princess's ladies-in-waiting. 

"They are all of a sudden become so much the rage here that peoplemeet in the morning at one another's houses to learn them. And they aregetting on very much. Lady Charlotte and I get great honour for theaccomplishment, and I have improved a few scholars. Clanronald [1] isgrown so detestably fine. He waltzes with me because he thinks hethereby shows off his figure, but as to speaking to me or Lady Charlottehe thinks himself much above that. He is in much request at presentbecause of his dancing; next to him Lord Hartington is, I think, thebest dancer; he is, besides, very fond of it, and is much above beingfine; I never met with a more natural, boyish creature. "

[1] Macdonald of Clanronald, a great beau in the fashionable Londonworld. 

To return to the novel. The only portion from Miss Clavering's pen isthe history of Mrs. Douglas in the first volume, and are, as she herselfremarked, "the only few pages that will be skipped. " She further adds:--

"Make haste and print it then, lest one of the Miss Edmonstones shoulddie, as then I should think you would scarce venture for fear of beinghaunted. 

 * * * * *

"I shall hasten to burn your last letter, as you mention something oflooking out for a father for your _bantling, _ so I don't think it wouldbe decent to let anybody get a sight of such a letter!"

At last, in 1818, the novel was published by the late Mr. Blackwood, anddrew forth loud plaudits from the wondering public, as to who the authorof so original a book could be. "In London it is much admired, andgenerally attributed to Walter Scott, " so writes a friend to MissFerrier; and she replies in her humorous style: "Whosever it is, I havemet with nothing that has interested me since. " Sir Walter must havebeen flattered at his being supposed its father, for he says, in theconclusion of the _Tales of my Landlord_:--

"There remains behind not only a large harvest, but labourers capableof gathering it in; more than one writer has of late displayed talentsof this description, and if the present author, himself a phantom, maybe permitted to distinguish a brother, or perhaps a sister, shadow, hewould mention in particular the author of the very lively work entitled_Marriage_. "

Mr. Blackwood, whose opinion is of some value, thought very highly of_Marriage, _ and he writes to Miss Ferrier (1817):--

"Mr. B. Will not allow himself to think for one moment that there can beany uncertainty as to the work being completed. Not to mention his owndeep disappointment, Mr. B. Would almost consider it a crime if a workpossessing so much interest and useful instruction were not given to theworld. The author is the only critic of whom Mr. B. Is afraid, and afterwhat he has said, he anxiously hopes that this censor of the press willvery speedily affix the _imprimatur. "_

In allusion to Sir Walter's eulogium on the novel above quoted, Mr. Blackwood writes to the author:--

"I have the pleasure of enclosing you this concluding sentence of thenew _Tales of my Landlord, _ which are to be published to-morrow. Afterthis call, surely you will be no longer silent. If the great magiciandoes not conjure you I shall give up all hopes. "

But Miss Ferrier seems to have been proof against the great magicianeven. _Marriage_ became deservedly popular, and was translated intoFrench, as appears from the annexed:--

"We perceive by the French papers that a translation of Miss Ferrier'sclever novel _Marriage_ has been very successful in France. "-_New__Times, _ 6 Oct. '25. 

For _Marriage_ she received the sum of £150. Her second venture was moresuccessful in a pecuniary sense. Space, however, prohibits me fromdwelling any longer on _Marriage, _ so we come next to _The Inheritance. _This novel appeared six years after, in 1824, and is a work of verygreat merit. To her sister (Mrs. Kinloch, in London) Miss Ferrierwrites:--

"John (her brother) has now completed a bargain with Mr. Blackwood, bywhich I am to have £1000 for a novel now in hand, but which is notnearly finished, and possibly never may be. Nevertheless he is desirousof announcing it in his magazine, and therefore I wish to prepare youfor the _shock. _ I can say nothing more than I have already said on thesubject of _vigilence, _ if not of secrecy. I never will avow myself, andnothing can hurt and offend me so much as any of my friends doing it forme; this is not _faron de_ _parler, _ but my real and unalterablefeeling; I could not bear the fuss of authorism!"

Secrecy as to her authorship seems to have been the great desire of herheart, and much of _The Inheritance_ was written in privacy atMorningside House, old Mr. Ferrier's summer retreat near Edinburgh, andshe says, "This house is so small, it is very ill-calculated forconcealment. "

It was not till 1851 that she publicly avowed herself by authorising hername to be prefixed to a revised and corrected edition of her works. [1]Sir Walter Scott was delighted with this second novel, a proof of whichwas conveyed to Miss Ferrier by Mr. Blackwood:--

[1] Published by the late Mr. Richard Bentley, to whom she sold hercopyrights in 1841. A previous edition was published by him in 1841. 

"On Wednesday I dined in company with Sir Walter Scott, and he spoke ofthe work in the very highest terms. I do not always set the highestvalue on the baronet's favourable opinion of a book, because he has somuch kindness of feeling towards everyone, but in this case he spoke somuch _con amore, _ and entered so completely, and at such a length, tome, into the spirit of the book and of the characters, that showed me atonce the impression it had made on him. Everyone I have seen who hasseen the book gives the some praise of it. Two or three days ago I had anote from a friend, which I copy: 'I have nearly finished a volume of_The Inheritance. _ It is unquestionably the best novel of the class ofthe present day, in so far as I can yet judge. Lord Rossville, AdamRamsay, Bell Black and the Major, Miss Pratt and Anthony Whyte arecapital, and a fine contrast to each other. It is, I think, a moreelaborate work than _Marriage_, better told, with greater variety, anddisplaying improved powers. I congratulate you, and have no doubt thebook will make a prodigious _sough'. "_ [1]

[1] Sensation. 

Mr. Blackwood adds: "I do not know a better judge nor a more frank andhonest one than the writer of this note. "

Again he writes:--

"On Saturday I lent in confidence to a very clever friend, on whosediscretion I can rely, the two volumes of _The Inheritance. _ Thismorning I got them back with the following note: 'My dear Sir-I am trulydelighted with _The Inheritance. _ I do not find as yet anyone characterquite equal to Dr. Redgill, [1] except, perhaps, the good-natured, old-tumbled (or troubled, I can't make out which) maiden, [2] but as anovel it is a hundred miles above _Marriage. _ It reminds me of MissAusten's very best things in every page. And if the third volume be likethese, no fear of success triumphant. '"

[1] In _Marriage_ the gourmet physician to Lord Courtland, and "theliving portrait of hundreds, though never before hit off so well. "

[2] Miss Becky Duguid. 

Mr. Blackwood again says:--

"You have only to go on as you are going to sustain the characterSir Walter gave me of _Marriage, _ that you had the rare talent of makingyour conclusion even better than your commencement, for, said thisworthy and veracious person, 'Mr. Blackwood, if ever I were to write anovel, I would like to write the two first volumes, and leave anybody towrite the third that liked. '"

In the following note, Lister, author of _Granby, _ also expresses hisadmiration in graceful terms, and with a copy of his own novel for MissFerrier's acceptance:--

_T. H. Lister to Miss Ferrier. _

"17 Heriot Row, _Feb. _ 3, 1836. 

"My DEAR MADAM--I should feel that, in requesting your acceptance of thebook which accompanies this note, I should be presuming too much uponthe very short time that I have had the honour of being known to you, ifMrs. Lister had not told me that you had kindly spoken of it inapproving terms. I hope, therefore, I may be allowed, withoutpresumption, to present to yon a book which you have thus raised in theopinion of its writer, and the composition of which is associated in mymind with the recollection of one of the greatest pleasure I havederived from novel-reading, for which I am indebted to you. I believethe only novel I read, or at any rate can now remember to have read, during the whole time I was writing _Granby_, was your _Inheritance_. --Believe me, my dear Madam, your very faithful, T. H. LISTER. "

From Mrs. Lister (afterwards Lady Theresa Cornewall Lewis) Miss Ferrieralso received the following complimentary note:--

_Mrs. Lister to Miss Ferrier. _

"_Thursday Night. _ 17 HERIOT Row. 

"My DEAR MISS FERRIER--I cannot leave Edinburgh without a gratefulacknowledgment of your very kind and flattering gift. Mr. Lister calledupon you in hopes of being able to wish you good-bye, and to tell you inperson how much we were pleased with the proof you have given us that weare not unworthy of enjoying and appreciating your delightfulworks--pray accept our very best thanks, and I hope as _an authoress_you will not feel offended if I say that they will now have an addedcharm in our eyes from the regard which our personal acquaintance withthe writer has engendered. I knew that, to those who do not mix much insociety, the acquaintance with strangers is often irksome: we thereforefeel the more obliged to you for having allowed us the pleasure ofknowing you, and I hope that if we return in the course of the year thatwe may find you less suffering in health, but as kindly disposed toreceive our visits as you have hitherto been. We feel very grateful forall the kindness we have met with in Edinburgh, and amongst the pleasantreminiscences of the last five months we must always rank high thehaving received from you as a token of regard so acceptable agift. --Believe me (or, indeed, I ought to say us), my dear Miss Ferrier, yours most sincerely, M. THERESA LISTER. "

Lord Murray, the late Scotch Judge, writes to a mutual friend of his andMiss Ferrier's (Miss Walker of Dalry):--

"I received a copy of _Inheritance_ in the name of the author, and as Ido not know who the _author_ is, and I suspect that you know more than Ido, trust you will find some channel through which you will convey mythanks. I read _Inheritance_ with very great pleasure. The charactersare very well conceived, and delineated with great success. I may add Ihave heard it highly commended by much better judges. Jeffrey speaksvery favourably. He is particularly pleased with the Nabob (Major) andspouse, the letter from the Lakes, and the _P. S. _ to it. Lord Gwydyr, who lives entirely in fashionable circles, said to me much in itspraise, in which I concurred. 

"From many other symptoms I have no doubt of its complete success. "

Miss Hannah Mackenzie, daughter of the "Man of Feeling, " writes to herfriend Miss Ferrier:--

"Walter Scott dined here the other day, and both he and papa joinedheartily in their admiration of uncle Adam, and their wish to know whohe is. Sir W. Also admires Miss Becky Duguid, and said he thought herquite a new character. I should like very much to see you, and talk allover at length, but fear to invite you to my own bower for fear ofsuspicion; but I trust you will soon come boldly, and face my wholefamily. I do not think you need fear them much; of course, like otherpeople, they have their thoughts, but by no means speak with certainty, and Margaret has this minute assured us that she does _not_ think it MissFerrier's. "

Uncle Adam, with "his seventy thousand pounds, " and as "cross as twosticks, " in some degree resembled old Mr. Ferrier, who was somewhatbrusque and testy in his manner, and alarmed many people who wereotherwise unacquainted with the true genuine worth and honesty of hischaracter. Miss Becky is a poor old maid, saddled with commissions fromall her friends of a most miscellaneous description. 

"She was expected to attend all _accouchements, _ christenings, deaths, chestings, and burials, but she was seldom asked to a marriage, and never to any party of pleasure. "

She is an admirable pendant to the "Pratt, " who is inseparable, however, from her invisible nephew, Mr. Anthony Whyte. Miss Pratt is a sort offemale Paul Pry, always turning up at the most unexpected moment at LordRossville's, and finally puts the finishing stroke to the pompous oldpeer by driving up to his castle door in the hearse of Mr. M'Vitie, theRadical distiller, being unable to procure any other mode of conveyanceduring a heavy snow-storm, and assured every one that she fancied shewas the first person who thought herself in luck to have got into ahearse, but considered herself still luckier in having got well out ofone. 

Caroline, Duchess of Argyll, [1] expresses her appreciation of _TheInheritance_ to the author, for whom she entertained a warmfriendship:--

[1] Daughter of Lord Jersey, and wife of the first Marquis of Anglesea, whom she divorced, when Lord Paget, in 1810: m. The same year George, sixth Duke of Argyll. 

"UPPER BROOK STREET, _Monday Evening. _

"What can I say sufficiently to express my thanks either to you, my dearMiss Ferrier, or to the _author_ of _The Inheritance, _ whoever she maybe, for the most perfect edition of that _most perfect_ book that wasever written! and now that I may be allowed to have my _suspicion, _ Ishall read it again with double pleasure. It was so kind of you toremember your promise! When I received your kind letter and books thismorning I was quite delighted with my beautiful present, and to find Iwas not forgotten by one of my best friends. "

_The Inheritance--a_ fact not generally known--was dramatised andproduced at Covent Garden, but had a very short run, and was an utterfailure, as might have been expected. Mrs. Gore was requested to adaptit for the stage by the chief comic actors of the day, and she writes toMiss Ferrier on the subject:--

"Since the management of Covent Garden Theatre fell into the hands ofLaporte, he has favoured me with a commission to write a comedy for him, and the subject proposed by him is again the French novel of_L'Héretière, _ which turns out to be a literal translation of _TheInheritance. _ He is quite bent upon having Miss Pratt on the stage. Ihave not chosen to give Monsieur Laporte any positive answer on thesubject without previously applying to yourself to know whether you haveany intention or inclination to apply to the stage those admirabletalents which are so greatly appreciated in London. "

Mrs. Gore, meanwhile, had been forestalled in her attempt, as a play onthe subject had been held before the reader to Covent Garden, and shewrites again to Miss Ferrier:--

"I have since learned with regret that the play is the production of acertain Mr. Fitzball, the distinguished author of the _Flying Dutchman, _an sixty other successful melodramas, represented with great applause atthe Surrey, Coburg, City, and Pavilion Theatres, etc. ; in short, awriter of a very low class. The play of _The Inheritance_ has beenaccepted at Covent Garden; but, from my knowledge of the generalengagements of the theatre, I should say that it has not the slightestchance of approaching to representation. For your sake it cannot bebetter than in the black-box of the manager's room, which secures it atleast from performance at the Coburg Theatre. "

We must let the curtain, so to speak, drop on _The Inheritance, _ andpass on to _Destiny. _ This novel also appeared six years after, in 1831, and was dedicated to Sir Walter Scott. And he acknowledges thecompliment as follows:--

_Sir Walter Scott to Miss Ferrier. _

"My DEAR MISS FERRIER--Ann returned to-day, and part of her Edinburghnews informs me that you meditated honouring your present literaryoffspring with my name, so I do not let the sun set without saying howmuch I shall feel myself obliged and honoured by such a compliment. Iwill not stand bandying compliments on my want of merit, but can swallowso great a compliment as if I really deserved it, and indeed, aswhatever I do not owe entirely to your goodness I may safely set down toyour friendship, I shall scarce be more flattered one way or the other. I hope you will make good some hopes, which make Ann very proud, ofvisiting Abbotsford about April next. Nothing can give the proprietormore pleasure, for the birds, which are a prodigious chorus, are makingof their nests and singing in blithe chorus. 'Pray come, and do not makethis a flattering dream. ' I know a little the value of my futuregodchild, since I had a peep at some of the sheets when I was in townduring the great snowstorm, which, out of compassion for an authorclosed up within her gates, may prove an apology for his breach ofconfidence. So far I must say that what I have seen has had the greatesteffect in making me curious for the rest. 

"Believe me, dear Miss Ferrier, with the greatest respect, your mostsincere, humble servant, "WALTER SCOTT. 

"Abbortsford, _Tuesday Evening_. "

In the next note he acknowledges a copy of _Destiny_, sent him by theauthor:--

_Sir Walter Scott to Miss Ferrier. _

DEAR MISS FERRIER--If I had a spark of gratitude in me I ought to havewritten you well-nigh a month ago, to thank you in no common fashion for_Destiny, _ which by the few, and at the same time the probability, ofits incidents, your writings are those of the first person of genius whohas disarmed the little pedantry of the Court of Cupid and of gods andmen, and allowed youths and maidens to propose other alliances thanthose an early choice had pointed out to them. I have not time to tellyou all the consequences of my revolutionary doctrine. All these we willtalk over when you come here, which I am rejoiced to hear is likely tobe on Saturday next, when Mr. Cadell [1] will be happy to be your beauin the Blucher, [2] and we will take care are met with at the toll. Praydo not make this a flattering dream. You are of the initiated, so willnot be _de trop _with Cadell. --I am, always, with the greatest respectand regard, your faithful and affectionate servant, WALTER SCOTT. 

[1] Destiny was published by Cadell through Sir Walter's intervention, and by it the author realised £1700. 

[2] Name of the Stage-coach. 

In 1832, the year after the birth of his godchild _Destiny, _ poor SirWalter began to show signs of that general break-up of mind and body sospeedily followed by his death. Of this sad state Miss Ferrier writes toher sister, Mrs. Kinloch (in London):--

"Alas! the night cometh when no man can work, as is the case with thatmighty genius which seems now completely quenched. Well might he bestyled 'a bright and benignant luminary, ' for while all will deplore theloss of that bright intellect which has so long charmed a world, manywill still more deeply lament the warm and steady friend, whose kind andgenuine influence was ever freely diffused on all whom it could benefit. I trust, however, he may be spared yet awhile; it might be salutary tohimself to con over the lessons of a death-bed, and it might be edifyingto others to have his record added to the many that have gone beforehim, that all below is vanity. But till we _feel_ that we shall neverbelieve it! I _ought_ to feel it more than most people, as I sit in mydark and solitary chamber, shut out, as it seems, from all the 'pride oflife'; but, alas! Worldly things make their way into the darkest andmost solitary recesses, for their dwelling is in the heart, and fromthence God only can expel them. "

Her first visit to the author of _Waverley_ was in the autumn of 1811, when she accompanied her father to Ashestiel. The invitation came fromScott to Mr. Ferrier:--

_Walter Scott, Esq. , to James Ferrier, Esq. _

"My DEAR SIR--We are delighted to see that your feet are free anddisposed to turn themselves our way--a pleasure which we cannot consentto put off till we have a house at Abbotsford, which is but a distantprospect. We are quite disengaged and alone, saving the company of Mr. Terry the comedian, who is assisting me in planning my cottage, havingbeen bred an architect under Wyat. He reads to us after coffee in theevening, which is very pleasant. This letter will reach you to-morrow, so probably _Thursday_ may be a convenient day of march, when we shallexpect you to dinner about five o'clock, unless the weather should bevery stormy, in which case we should be sorry Miss Ferrier should riskgetting cold. To-day is clearing up after a week's dismal weather, whichmay entitle us to expect some pleasant October days, not the worst ofour climate. The road is by Middleton and Bankhouse; we are ten milesfrom the last stage, and thirty from Edinburgh, hilly road. There is aford beneath Ashestiel generally very passable, but we will have theboat in readiness in case Miss Ferrier prefers it, or the water shouldbe full. Mrs. Scott joins in kind respects to Miss Ferrier, and I everam, dear Sir, --yours truly obliged, W. SCOTT. 

"Ashestiel, _October_ 7. "

It was in 1811 that Scott was appointed a clerk of session, and to Mr. Ferrier he was in some measure indebted for that post. 

Her last visit to Abbotsford is touchingly alluded to by Lockhart in his_Life of Scott:--_

"To assist them in amusing him in the hours which he spent out of hisstudy, and especially that he might make these hours more frequent, hisdaughter had invited his friend the authoress of _Marriage_ to come outto Abbotsford, and her coming was serviceable. For she knew and lovedhim well, and she had seen enough of affliction akin to his to be wellskilled in dealing with it. She could not be an hour in his companywithout observing what filled his children with more sorrow than all therest of the case. He would begin a story as gaily as ever, and go on, inspite of the hesitation in his speech, to tell it with highlypicturesque effect--but before he reached the point, it would seem as ifsome internal spring had given way. He paused and gazed round him withthe blank anxiety of look that a blind man has when he has dropped hisstaff. Unthinking friends sometimes gave him the catch-word abruptly. Inoticed the delicacy of Miss Ferrier on such occasions. Her sight wasbad, and she took care not to use her glasses when he was speaking, andshe affected also to be troubled with deafness, and would say, 'Well, Iam getting as dull as a post, I have not heard a word since you said soand so, ' being sure to mention a circumstance behind that at which hehad really halted. He then took up the thread with his habitual smile ofcourtesy, as if forgetting his case entirely in the consideration of thelady's infirmity. "

A very interesting account of her recollections of visits to Ashestieland Abbotsford appeared in the February (1874) number of this magazine:it is short, but gives a sad and pathetic picture of the great man andhis little grandson as they sat side by side at table. 

The following letter on _Destiny_ is from Mrs. Fletcher, [1] adistinguished citizen of Edinburgh at the commencement of this century, and a leader of the Whig society there. For that reason it is worthy ofinsertion here. Her son married Miss Clavering, as before mentioned:--

[1] Her _Memoir, _ by her daughter, Lady Richardson, was published notlong since. 

_Mrs. Fletcher to Miss Ferrier. _

"TADCASTER, _April_ 16, 1831. 

"My DEAR MISS FERRIER--I should not have been so long in thanking youfor your kind present, had I not wished to subject _Destiny_ to aseverer test than that chosen by the French dramatist. _His_ old womanprobably partook of the vivacity of her nation, but my old aunt, as Marywill tell you, is sick and often very sorrowful, and yet _Destiny_ hasmade her laugh heartily, and cheated her of many wearisome hours oflamentation. My grandson, Archibald Taylor, too, forsook football andcricket for your fascinating book, and told me 'he could sit up allnight to see what had become of Ronald. ' Mr. Ribley and 'Kitty, mydear, ' hit his comic fancy particularly. My two most bookish neighbours, one an Oxford divine, and the other a Cambridge student, declare that, Glenroy and M'Dow are exquisite originals. ' My own favourite, 'MollyMacaulay, ' preserves her good-humour to the last, though I thought yourather unmerciful in shutting her up so long in Johnnie's nursery. Thefashionable heartlessness of Lady Elizabeth and her daughter is colouredto the life, and the refreshment of returning to nature, truth, affection, and happiness at Inch Orran is admirably managed. Mary tellsme you have returned from Fife with fresh materials for future volumes. Go on, dear Miss Ferrier, you are accountable for the talents entrustedto you. Go on to detect selfishness in all its various forms andfoldings; to put pride and vanity to shame; to prove that vulgaritybelongs more to character than condition, and that all who make theworld their standard are essentially vulgar and low-minded, howevernoble their exterior or refined their manners may be, and that truedignity and elevation belong only to those to whom Milton's lines may beapplied:

"'Thy care is fixed, and zealously attends To fill thy odorous lamp withdeeds of light, And hope that reaps not shame. '"

The following letter from Joanna Baillie gives a very just and truthfulcriticism on _Destiny:--_

_Miss Joanna Baillie to Miss Ferrier. _

"Hampstead, _May_ 1831. 

"My DEAR MADAM--I received your very kind present of your last workabout three weeks ago, and am very grateful for the pleasure I have hadin reading it, and for being thus remembered by you. I thank you alsofor the pleasure and amusement which my sisters and some other friendshave drawn from it. The first volume struck me as extremely clever, thedescription of the different characters, their dialogues, and thewriter's own remarks, excellent. There is a spur both with the writerand the reader on the opening of a work which naturally gives thebeginning of a story many advantages, but I must confess that yourcharacters never forget their outset, but are well supported to the veryend. Your Molly Macaulay [1] is a delightful creature, and the footingshe is on with Glenroy very naturally represented, to say nothing of therising of her character at the end, when the weight of contempt isremoved from her, which is very good and true to nature. Your minister, M'Dow, [2] hateful as he is, is very amusing, and a true representativeof a few of the Scotch clergy, and with different language and mannersof a great many of the English clergy--worldly, mean men, who boldlymake their way into every great and wealthy family for the sake ofpreferment and good cheer. Your Lady Elizabeth, too, with all herselfishness and excess of absurdity, is true to herself throughout, andmakes a very characteristic ending of it in her third marriage. But whyshould I tease you by going through the different characters? Suffice itto say that I thank you very heartily, and congratulate you on againhaving added a work of so much merit to our stock of national novels. Perhaps before this you have received a very short publication of mineon a very serious subject. I desired my bookseller to send a copy toyou, enclosed along with one to your friend, Miss Mackenzie. How far youwill agree with my opinions regarding it I cannot say, but of one thingI am sure, that you will judge with candour and charity. I should havesent one to Mr. Alison had I not thought it presumptuous in me to sendsuch a work to any clergyman, and, with only one exception (aPresbyterian clergyman), I have abstained from doing so. I was very muchobliged to Mrs. Mackenzie, Lord M. 's lady, for the letter she was sogood as to write me in her sister-in-Iaw's stead. If you should meet hersoon, may I beg that you will have the goodness to thank her in my name. I was very sorry indeed to learn from her that Miss Mackenzie had beenso ill, and was then so weak, and that the favourable account I hadreceived of your eyes had been too favourable. With all good wishes toyou, in which my sister begs to join me, --I remain, my dear Madam, gratefully and sincerely yours, "J. BAILLIE. "

[1] The humble and devoted dependant of the proud chief Glenroy, andgoverness to his children. She was drawn from life, for Mrs. Kinlochwrites to her sister, Miss Ferrier: "Molly Macaulay is charming; herniece, Miss Cumming, is an old acquaintance of mine, and told me thecharacter was drawn to the life. The old lady is still alive, in herninety-first year, at Inveraray, and Miss C. , who is a very clever, pleasing person, seems delighted with the truth and spirit of the wholecharacter of her aunty. "

[2] Lord Jeffrey considered M'Dow "an entire and perfect chrysolite, notto be meddled with. "

Granville Penn, the descendant of the founder of Pennsylvania, recordsthe impression _Destiny_ made on him, and which he communicates to MissErskine of Cardross, who copied and sent it to the author, as follows:--

"My DEAR MADAM--I return your book, but I an unable to return youadequate thanks for being the cause of my reading it. I have done this(and all with me) with delight, from the interest and admiration at thewhole composition, the novelty and excitement of its plan, the exquisiteand thrilling manner of its disclosure, the absence of all flat andheavy intervals, the conception and support of the characters, the soundand salutary moral that pervades it all--these make me love and honourits valuable authoress, and lament that I am not in the number of heracquaintance. We all _doat_ upon Miss Macaulay, and grieve that she isnot living at Richmond or Petersham; and Mr. M'Dow has supplied me witha new name for our little young dog, whom I have called, in memorial ofhis little nephew (or niece), Little M'Fee. With all the thanks, however, that I can offer, etc. 

GRANVILLE PENN. 

"Devonshire Cottage, 1_st May_ 1831. "

The next tribute of admiration bestowed on _Destiny_ was from Sir JamesMackintosh:--

_Sir James Mackintosh to Miss Ferrier. _

"LONDON, 10_th June_ 1831. 

"DEAR MISS FERRIER--Let me tell you a fact, which I hope you will excuseme from mentioning, as some subsidiary proof of your power. On the dayof the dissolution of Parliament, and in the critical hours betweentwelve and three, I was employed in reading part of the second volume of_Destiny. _ My mind was so completely occupied on your colony inArgyleshire, that I did not throw away a thought on kings orparliaments, and was not moved by the general curiosity to stir abroadtill I had finished your volume. It would have been nothing if you hadso agitated a youth of genius and susceptibility, prone to literaryenthusiasm, but such a victory over an old hack is perhaps worthy ofyour notice. --I am, my dear Miss Ferrier, your friend and admirer, "J. MACKINTOSH. "

Professor Wilson, "Christopher North, " and his uncle, Mr. Robert Sym, W. S. , "Timothy Tickler, " discuss the merits of _Destiny_ in thefar-famed _Noctes_:

"_Tickler. --' _I would also except Miss Susan Ferrier. Her novels, nodoubt, have many defects, their plots are poor, their episodesdisproportionate, and the characters too often caricatures; but they areall thick-set with such specimens of sagacity, such happy traits ofnature, such flashes of genuine satire, such easy humour, sterling goodsense, and, above all--God only knows where she picked it up--mature andperfect knowledge of the world, that I think we may safely anticipatefor them a different fate from what awaits even the cleverest ofjuvenile novels. '

"_North. -' _They are the works of a very clever woman, sir, and theyhave one feature of true and melancholy interest quite peculiar tothemselves. It is in them alone that the ultimate breaking-down anddebasement of the Highland character has been depicted. Sir Walter Scotthad fixed the enamel of genius over the last fitful gleams of theirhalf-savage chivalry, but a humbler and sadder scene--the age oflucre-banished clans--of chieftains dwindled into imitation squires, andof chiefs content to barter the recollections of a thousand years for afew gaudy seasons of Almacks and Crockfords, the euthanasia of kiltedaldermen and steamboat pibrochs was reserved for Miss Ferrier. '

"_Tickler. --' _She in general fails almost as egregiously as Hook doesin the pathetic [1] but in her last piece there is one scene of thisdescription worthy of either Sterne or Goldsmith. I mean where the youngman [2] supposed to have been lost at sea, revisits, after a lapse oftime, the precincts of his own home, watching unseen in the twilight theoccupations and bearings of the different members of the family, andresolving, under the influence of a most generous feeling, to keep thesecret of his preservation. '

[1] This is not true, as there are many pathetic passages in _Destiny_, particularly between Edith, the heroine, and her faithless lover, SirReginald. 

[2] Ronald Malcolm. 

"_North. -' _I remember it well, and you might bestow the same kind ofpraise on the whole character of Molly Macaulay. It is a picture ofhumble, kind-hearted, thorough-going devotion and long-suffering, indefatigable gentleness, of which, perhaps, no sinner of our gendercould have adequately filled up the outline. Miss Ferrier appearshabitually in the light of a hard satirist, but there is always a fundof romance at the bottom of every true woman's heart who has tried tostifle and suppress that element more carefully and pertinaciously, andyet who has drawn, in spite of herself, more genuine tears than theauthoress of _Simple Susan. ' "_

The story of _Destiny, _ like its predecessors, is laid in Miss Ferrier'sfavourite Highlands, and it contains several picturesque and vividdescriptions of scenery there, --Inveraray, and its surroundingsgenerally, forming the model for her graphic pen. Much of this novel waswritten at Stirling Castle, when she was there on a visit to her sister, Mrs. Graham, [1] whose husband, General Graham, was governor of thatgarrison. After the publication of this last work, and the offer of athousand pounds from a London publisher for anything from her pen, [2]she entirely ceased from her literary labours, being content to restupon the solid and enduring reputation her three "bantlings" (as shecalled her novels) had won for her. The following fragment, however, wasfound among her papers, and is the portrait of another old maid, andmight serve as a companion to Miss Pratt. As it is amusing, and in thewriter's satirical style, I lay it before my readers:--

[1] Celebrated by Burns, the poet, for her beauty. She inspired his musewhen turning the corner of George Street, Edinburgh. The lines addressedto her are to be found in his _Poems. _ She was also a highly-giftedartist. The illustrations in the work called the _Stirling Heads_ arefrom her pencil. It was published by Blackwood, 1817. 

[2] She says (1837) "I made two attempts to write _something_, but couldnot please myself, and would not publish _anything_. "

"Miss Betty Landon was a single lady of small fortune, few personalcharms, and a most jaundiced imagination. There was no event, not eventhe most fortunate, from which Miss Betty could not extract evil;everything, even the milk of human kindness, with her turned to gall andvinegar. Thus, if any of her friends were married, she sighed over themiseries of the wedded state; if they were single, she bewailed theirsolitary, useless condition; if they were parents, she pitied them forhaving children; if they had no children, she pitied them for beingchildless. But one of her own letters will do greater justice to theturn of her mind than the most elaborate description. 

"'My DEAR Miss------ I ought to have written to you long before now, butI have suffered so much from the constant changes of the weather thatthe wonder is I am able to hold a pen. During the whole summer the heatwas really quite intolerable, not a drop of rain or a breath of wind, the cattle dying for absolute want, the vegetables dear and scarce, andas for fruit--that, you know, in this town, is at all times scarce andbad, and particularly when there is the greatest occasion for it. In theautumn we never had two days alike, either wind or rain, or frost, orsomething or another; and as for our winter--you know what thatis--either a constant splash of rain, or a frost like to take the skinoff you. For these six weeks I may say I have had a constant running atmy head, with a return of my old complaint; but as for doctors, I see nogood they do, except to load people's stomachs and pick their pockets:everything now is imposition; I really think the very pills are not whatthey were thirty years ago. How people with families continue to live isa mystery to me; and people still going on marrying, in the face ofnational debt, taxes, a new war, a starving population, ruined commerce, and no outlet for young men in any quarter--God only knows what is to bethe end of all this! In spite of all this, these thoughtless youngcreatures, the Truemans, have thought proper to make out their marriage;he is just five-and-twenty, and she is not yet nineteen! so you mayjudge what a prudent, well-managed establishment it will be. He is in agood enough business at present, but in these times who can tell what'sto happen? He may be wallowing in wealth to-day, and bankrupt to-morrow. His sister's marriage with Fairplay is now quite off, and her prospectsfor life, poor thing, completely wrecked! Her looks are entirely gone, and her spirits quite broken. She is not like the same creature, and, tobe sure, to a girl who had set her heart upon being married, it must bea great and severe disappointment, for this was her only chance, unlessshe tries India, and the expense of the outfit must be a complete bar tothat. You would hear that poor Lady Oldhouse has had a son--it seemed adesirable thing, situated as they are with an entailed property; and yetwhen I look around me, and see the way that sons go on, the dissipationand extravagance, and the heartbreak they are to their parents, I thinka son anything but a blessing. No word of anything of that kind to thepoor Richardsons; with all their riches, they are without anyone to comeafter them. The Prowleys are up in the air at having got what they call"a fine appointment" for their fourth son, but for my part I'm reallysick of hearing of boys going to India, for after all what do they dothere? I never hear of their sending home anything but black children, and when they come home themselves, what do they bring but yellow faces, worn-out constitutions, and livers like cocked-hats, crawling about fromone watering-place to another, till they are picked up by somelight-hearted, fortune-hunting miss, who does not care twopence forthem. '"

A beautiful and strong feature in Miss Ferrier's character was herintense devotion to her father, and when he died the loss to her wasirreparable. She also was much attached to a very handsome brother, James; he was colonel of the 94th regiment, or Scots Brigade, and diedin India in 1804, at the early age of twenty-seven. He had been at thesiege of Seringapatam in 1799, and was much distinguished by the noticeof Napoleon at Paris in February 1803, whence he writes to his sisterSusan:--

"I think I wrote you I had been introduced to the Chief Consul. I was onSunday last presented to his lady, whom I do not at all admire. Thegreat man spoke to me then again, which is a very unusual thing, and Iam told by the French I must be in his good graces; however, I myselfrather think it was my good fortune only: at all events it has given memuch pleasure, for it would have only been doing the thing half if hehad not spoken to me. I do not think any of the pictures like him much, although most of them have some resemblance; they give him a frown ingeneral, which he certainly has not--so far from it, that when he speakshe has one of the finest expressions possible. "

Here, unfortunately, this interesting description comes abruptly to anend, the rest of the letter being lost. On account of failing health andincreased bodily languor, Miss Ferrier latterly lived a very retiredlife, seeing few but very intimate friends, and, as she said, "We aremore recluse than ever, as our little circle is yearly contracting, andmy eyes are more and more averse to light than ever. "

Again she writes:--

"I can say nothing good of myself, my cough is very severe, and willprobably continue so, at least as long as this weather lasts; but I havemany comforts, for which I am thankful; amongst those I must reckonsilence and darkness, which are my best companions at present. "

For years she had suffered from her eyes, being nearly quite blind ofone. [1] In 1830 she went to London to consult an oculist, butunfortunately derived little benefit. While there, she visitedIsleworth, in order to see a villa belonging to Lord Cassillis, andwhich subsequently figured in _Destiny_ as "Woodlands, " LadyWaldegrave's rural retreat near London. A valued friend [2] whosaw much of her remarked:--

[1] Lady Morgan, a fellow-sufferer from her eyes, was most anxiousshe should consult Mr. Alexander, the eminent oculist, as he entirelycured her after four years' expectation of total blindness. 

[2] Lady Richardson. 

"The wonderful vivacity she maintained in the midst of darkness and painfor so many years, the humour, wit, and honesty of her character, aswell as the Christian submission with which she bore her great privationand general discomfort when not suffering acute pain, made everyone whoknew her desirous to alleviate the tediousness of her days, and I usedto read a great deal to her at one time, and I never left her darkenedchamber without feeling that I had gained something better than the bookwe might be reading, from her quick perception of its faults and itsbeauties, and her unmerciful remarks on all that was mean or unworthy inconduct or expression. "

But perhaps the most faithful picture of her is conveyed in this briefsentence from Scott's diary, who describes her

"As a gifted personage, having, besides her great talents, conversationthe least _exigeante_ of any author-female, at least, whom I have everseen among the long list I have encountered; simple, full of humour, andexceedingly ready at repartee, and all this without the leastaffectation of the blue-stocking. "

From the natural modesty of her character she had a great dislike toher biography, or memorial of her in any shape, being written, for shedestroyed all letters that might have been used for such a purpose, publicity of any kind being most distasteful to her, evidence of whichis very clearly shown in the first part of this narrative. The chiefsecret of her success as a novelist (setting aside her great genius) wasthe great care and time she bestowed on the formation of each novel--aninterval of six years occurring between each, the result beingdelineations of character that are unique. 

Unfortunately there is little to relate regarding her childhood, thatmost interesting period of human existence in the lives of (and which isgenerally distinguished by some uncommon traits of character) people ofgenius--save that she had for a school companion and playfellow the lateLord Brougham, the distinguished statesman; she was remarkable also forher power of mimicry. An amusing anecdote of this rather dangerous giftis the following: Her brothers and sisters returned home from a ball, very hungry, and entered her room, where they supposed she lay asleep, and, while discussing the events of the evening and the repast they hadprocured by stealth (unknown to their father), they were suddenly put toflight by the sounds and voice, as they thought, of their dreaded parentascending the stairs, and in their confusion and exit from the roomoverturned chairs and tables, much to the amusement of little Susan, who, no doubt, enjoyed the fright and commotion she had caused, and whomimicked under the cover of the bedclothes the accents of herredoubtable parent--a fit punishment, as she thought, for their ruthlessinvasion of her chamber, and their not offering her a share of theirsupper. An old Miss Peggy Campbell (sister to Sir Islay Campbell, President of the Court of Session) was also taken off by her, and solike that her father actually came into the room, where she was amusingher hearers, thinking that Miss Campbell was really present. When shedied a blank was left in her native city that has not been since filled, the modern Athens having somewhat deteriorated in the wit, learning, andrefinement that so distinguished her in the days that are gone. 

RECOLLECTIONS OF VISITSTO ASHESTIEL AND ABBOTSFORD, [1]

[1] Reprinted from the _Temple Bar_ Magazine for February 1874. 

By SUSAN EDMONSTONE FERRIER, _Author of 'Marriage, ' 'Inheritance, ' and 'Destiny. '_

I HAVE never kept either note-book or journal, and as my memory is not aretentive one I have allowed much to escape which I should now vainlyattempt to recall. Some things must, however, have made a vivid anddurable impression on my mind, as fragments remain, after the lapse ofyears, far more distinct than occurrences of much more recent date;such, amongst others, are my recollections of my visits to Ashestiel andAbbotsford. 

The first took place in the autumn of 1811, in consequence of repeatedand pressing invitations from Mr. Scott to my father, in which I wasincluded. Nothing could be kinder than our welcome, or more gratifyingthan the attentions we received during our stay; but the weather was toobroken and stormy to admit of our enjoying any of the pleasantexcursions our more weather-proof host had intended for us. 

My father and I could therefore only take short drives with Mrs. Scott, while the bard (about one o'clock:) mounted his pony, and accompanied byMr. Terry the comedian, his own son Walter, and our young relativeGeorge Kinloch, sallied forth for a long morning's ride in spite of windand rain. In the evening Mr. Terry commonly read some scenes from a play, to which Mr. Scott listened with delight, though every word must havebeen quite familiar to him, as he occasionally took a part in thedialogue impromptu; at other times he recited old and awesome balladsfrom memory, the very names of which I have forgot. The night precedingour departure had blown a perfect hurricane; we were to leaveimmediately after breakfast, and while the carriage was preparing Mr. Scott stepped to a writing-table and wrote a few hurried lines in thecourse of a very few minutes; these he put into my hand as he led me tothe carriage; they were in allusion to the storm, coupled with afriendly adieu, and are to be found in my autograph album. 

 "The mountain winds are up, and proud O'er heath and hill careering loud; The groaning forest to its power Yields all that formed our summer bower. The summons wakes the anxious swain, Whose tardy shocks still load the plain, And bids the sleepless merchant weep, Whose richer hazard loads the deep. For me the blast, or low or high, Blows nought of wealth or poverty; It can but whirl in whimsies vain The windmill of a restless brain, And bid me tell in slipshod verse What honest prose might best rehearse; How much we forest-dwellers grieve Our valued friends our cot should leave, Unseen each beauty that we boast, The little wonders of our coast, That still the pile of Melrose gray, For you must rise in minstrel's lay, And Yarrow's birk immortal long For yon but bloom in rural song. Yet Hope, who still in present sorrow Whispers the promise of to-morrow, Tells us of future days to come, When you shall glad our rustic home; When this wild whirlwind shall be still, And summer sleep on glen and hill, And Tweed, unvexed by storm, shall guide In silvery maze his stately tide, Doubling in mirror every rank Of oak and alder on his bank; And our kind guests such welcome prove As most we wish to those we love. " [1]

 _Ashestiel, _October 13, 1811. 

[1] Lines written by Walter Scott while the carriage was waitingto convey my father and me from Ashestiel. --S. E. F. 

The invitation had been often repeated, but my dear father's increasinginfirmities made him averse to leave home, and when, in compliance withSir Walter's urgent request, I visited Abbotsford in the autumn of 1829, I went alone. I was met at the outer gate by Sir Walter, who welcomed mein the kindest manner and most flattering terms; indeed, nothing couldsurpass the courtesy of his address on such occasions. On our way to thehouse he stopped and called his two little grandchildren, Walter andCharlotte Lockhart, who were chasing each other like butterflies amongthe flowers--the boy was quite a Cupid, though not an _alfresco_ one;for he wore a Tartan cloak, whose sundry extras fluttered in the breezeas he ran to obey the summons, and gave occasion to his grandfather topresent him to me as "Major Waddell;" [1] the pretty littlefairy-looking girl he next introduced as "Whipperstowrie, " and then(aware of my love for fairy lore) he related the tale, in his owninimitable manner, as he walked slowly and stopped frequently in ourapproach to the house. As soon as I could look round I was struck withthe singular and picturesque appearance of the mansion and its_environs. _ Yet I must own there was more of _strangeness_ than ofadmiration in my feelings; too many objects seemed crowded together in asmall space, and there was a "felt want" of breadth and repose for theeye. On entering the house I was however charmed with the richimposing beauty of the hall, and admired the handsome antique appearanceof the dining-room with its interesting pictures. After luncheon SirWalter was at pains to point them out to my notice, and related thehistories of each and all; he then conducted me through the apartments, and showed me so much, and told me so many anecdotes illustrative of thevarious objects of interest and curiosity they contained, that I retaina very confused and imperfect recollection of what I saw and heard. Itwas a strong proof of his good-nature that in showing the many works ofart and relics of antiquity he had continued to accumulate and arrangewith so much taste and skill, he should have been at such pains to pointout the merits and relate the history of most of them to one soincapable of appreciating their value. But he never allowed one to feeltheir own deficiencies, for he never appeared to be aware of themhimself. 

[1] One of Miss Ferrier's characters in her novel of _The Inheritance. _

It was in the quiet of a small domestic circle I had again anopportunity of enjoying the society of Sir Walter Scott, and ofwitnessing, during the ten days I remained, the unbroken serenity of histemper, the unflagging cheerfulness of his spirits, and the unceasingcourtesy of his manners. I had been promised a quiet time, else I shouldnot have gone; and indeed the state of the family was a sufficientguarantee against all festivities. Mrs. Lockhart was confined to bedby severe indisposition, while Mr. Lockhart was detained in Londonby the alarming illness of their eldest boy, and both Captain Scott andhis brother were absent. The party, therefore, consisted only of SirWalter and Miss Scott, Miss Macdonald Buchanan (who was almost one ofthe family), and myself. Being the only stranger, I consequently came infor a larger share of my amiable host's time and attention than I shouldotherwise have been entitled to expect. Many a pleasant tale and amusinganecdote I might have had to relate had I written down half of what Idaily heard; but I had always an invincible repugnance to playing the_reporter_ and taking down people's words under their own roof. Every daySir Walter was ready by one o'clock to accompany us either in driving orwalking, often in both, and in either there was the same inexhaustibleflow of legendary lore, romantic incident, apt quotation, curious ordiverting story; and sometimes old ballads were recited, commemorativeof some of the localities through which he passed. Those who had seenhim only amidst the ordinary avocations of life, or even doing thehonours of his own table, could scarcely have conceived the fire andanimation of his countenance at such times, when his eyes seemedliterally to kindle, and even (as some one has remarked) to change theircolour and become a sort of deep sapphire blue; but, perhaps, from beingclose to him and in the open air, I was more struck with thispeculiarity than those whose better sight enabled them to mark hisvarying expression at other times. Yet I must confess this was anenthusiasm I found as little infectious as that of his antiquarianism. On the contrary, I often wished his noble faculties had been exercisedon loftier themes than those which seemed to stir his very soul. 

The evenings were passed either in Mrs. Lockhart's bedroom or inchatting quietly by the fireside below, but wherever we were he wasalways the same kind, unostentatious, amusing, and _amusable_ companion. 

The day before I was to depart Sir David Wilkie and his sister arrived, and the Fergussons and one or two friends were invited to meet him. Mrs. Lockhart was so desirous of meeting this old friend and distinguishedperson, that, though unable to put her foot to the ground, she causedherself to be dressed and carried down to the drawing-room while thecompany were at dinner. Great was her father's surprise and delight onhis entrance to find her seated (looking well and in high spirits) withher harp before her, ready to sing his favourite ballads. This raisedhis spirits above their usual quiet pitch, and towards the end of theevening he proposed to wind up the whole by all present standing in acircle with hands joined, singing, "Weel may we a' be! Ill may we never see!"

Mrs. Lockhart was, of course, unable to join the festive band. Sir DavidWilkie was languid and dispirited from bad health, and my feelings werenot such as to enable me to join in what seemed to me little else than amockery of human life; but rather than "displace the mirth, " I _tried, _but could not long remain a passive spectator; the glee seemed forcedand unnatural. It touched no sympathetic chord; it only jarred thefeelings; it was the last attempt at gaiety I witnessed within the wallsof Abbotsford. 

Although I had intended to confine my slight reminiscence of Sir WalterScott to the time I had passed with him under his own roof in thecountry, yet I cannot refrain from noticing the great kindness Ireceived from him during the following winter in town. 

I had, when at Abbotsford in the autumn, spoken to him for the _first_time of my authorship and of the work on which I was then engaged. Heentered into the subject with much warmth and earnestness, shook hishead at hearing how matters had hitherto been transacted, and saidunless I could make a better bargain in this instance I must leave tohim the disposal of _Destiny. _ I did so, and from the much more liberalterms he made with Mr. Cadell I felt, when too late, I had actedunwisely in not having sooner consulted him or some one versant in thesematters. But _secrecy_ at that time was all I was anxious about, and soI paid the penalty of trusting entirely to the good faith of thepublishers. 

I saw Sir Walter frequently during the winter, and occasionally dined_en famille_ with Miss Scott and him, or with one or two friends, as Idid not go into parties, neither indeed did he give any, but on accountof the state of his affairs lived as retiredly as he possibly could. 

In the month of February he sustained a paralytic shock; as soon as Iheard of this I went to Miss Scott, from whom I learned the particulars. She had seen her father in his study a short time before, apparently inhis usual health. She had returned to the drawing room when Sir Walteropened the door, came in, but stood looking at her with a most peculiarand _dreadful_ expression of countenance. It immediately struck her hehad come to communicate some very distressing intelligence, and sheexclaimed, "Oh, papa! Is Johnnie gone?" He made no reply, but stillcontinued standing still and regarding her with the same fearfulexpression. She then cried, "Oh, papa! speak! Tell me, is it Sophiaherself?" Still he remained immovable. Almost frantic, she thenscreamed, "It is Walter! it is Walter! I know it is. " Upon which SirWalter fell senseless on the floor. Medical assistance was speedilyprocured. After being bled he recovered his speech, and his first wordswere, "It was very strange! very horrible. " He afterwards told her hehad all at once felt very queer, and as if unable to articulate; he thenwent upstairs in hopes of getting rid of the sensation by movement; butit would not do, he felt perfectly tongue-tied, or rather _chained, _till overcome by witnessing her distress. This took place, I think, onthe 15th, and on the 18th I was invited to dine with him, and found himwithout any trace of illness, but as cheerful and animated as usual. 

Not being very correct as to dates, I should scarcely have ventured toname the day had not a trifling circumstance served to mark it. Afterdinner he proposed that instead of going to the drawing-room we shouldremain with him and have tea in the dining room. In the interval thepost letters were brought, and amongst others there was one from asister of Sir Thomas Lawrence (Mrs. Bloxam), enclosing a letter of herbrother's, having heard that Sir Walter had expressed a wish to havesome memorial of him, "rather of his pencil than his pen, " said he, ashe handed the letter to me, who, as a collector of autographs, wouldprobably value them more than he did; and on referring to Mrs. Bloxam'sletter I find the Edinburgh post-mark February the 18th. 

I received repeated invitations to Abbotsford, and had fixed to go onthe 17th of April, when, the day before, Mrs. Skene called upon me withthe sad tidings of another paralytic stroke, which not only put a stopto my visit for the present, but rendered it very doubtful whether Ishould ever see him again. But the worst fears of his friends were notyet to be realised. 

Early in May the invitation was renewed in a note from himself, which Iavailed myself of, too well assured it was a privilege I should enjoyfor the last time. On reaching Abbotsford I found some morning visitors(Mr. And Mrs. James, etc. ) in the drawing-room, but as soon as they weregone Sir Walter sent for me to his study. I found him seated in hisarmchair, but with his habitual politeness he insisted upon rising toreceive me, though he did so with such extreme difficulty I would gladlyhave dispensed with this mark of courtesy. His welcome was not lesscordial than usual, but he spoke in a slow and somewhat indistinctmanner, and as I sat close by him I could perceive but too plainly thechange which had taken place since we last met. His figure was unwieldy, not so much from increased bulk as from diminished life and energy; hisface was swollen and puffy, his complexion mottled and discoloured, hiseyes heavy and dim; his head had been shaved, and he wore a small blacksilk cap, which was extremely unbecoming. Altogether, the change was noless striking than painful to behold. The impression, however, soon woreoff (on finding, as I believed), that his mind was unimpaired and hiswarm kindly feelings unchanged. 

There was no company, and the dinner party consisted of Mr. And Mrs. Lockhart, Miss Scott, and myself. Sir Walter did not join us till thedessert, when he entered, assisted by his servant, and took his place atthe foot of the table. His grandchildren were then brought in, and hisfavourite, Johnnie Lockhart, was seated by his side. I must have forgotmost things before I can cease to recall that most striking andimpressive spectacle, each day repeated, as it seemed, with deepeninggloom. The first transient glow of cheerfulness which had welcomed myarrival had passed away, and been succeeded by an air of languor anddejection which sank to deepest sadness when his eye rested for a momenton his once darling grandson, the child of so much pride and promise, now, alas! how changed. It was most touching to look upon one whosemorning of life had been so bright and beautiful and, still in the sunnydays of childhood, transformed into an image of decrepitude and decay. The fair blooming cheek and finely chiselled features were now shrunkand stiffened into the wan and rigid inflexibility of old age; while theblack bandages which swathed the little pale sad countenance, gaveadditional gloom and harshness to the profound melancholy which cloudedits most intellectual expression. Disease and death were stamped uponthe grandsire and the boy as they sat side by side with averted eyes, each as if in the bitterness of his own heart refusing to comfort or becomforted. The two who had been wont to regard each other so fondly andso proudly, now seemed averse to hold communion together, while theirappearance and style of dress, the black cap of the one and the blackbandages of the other, denoted a sympathy in suffering if in nothingelse. The picture would have been a most affecting and impressive oneviewed under any circumstances, but was rendered doubly so by thecontrast which everywhere presented itself. 

The month was May, but the weather had all the warmth of summer with thefreshness and sweetness of spring. The windows of the dining-room wereopen to admit the soft balmy air which "came and went like the warblingof music, " but whose reviving influence seemed unfelt by the sufferers. The trees, and shrubs, and flowers were putting forth their tenderleaves and fragrant blossoms as if to charm _his_ senses who used towatch their progress with almost paternal interest, and the little birdswere singing in sweet chorus as if to cheer _him_ who was wont to listento their evening song with such placid delight. All around were the dearfamiliar objects which had hitherto ministered to his enjoyment, butnow, alas! miserable comforters were they all! It was impossible to lookupon such a picture without beholding in it the realisation of thosesolemn and affecting passages of Holy Writ which speak to us of theephemeral nature of all earthly pleasures and of the mournfulinsignificance of human life, even in its most palmy state, when itsviews and actions, its hopes and desires, are confined to this sublunarysphere: "Whence then cometh any wisdom, and where is the place ofunderstanding?" "Thus saith the Lord, Let not the wise man glory in hiswisdom, neither let the mighty man glory in his might; let not the richman glory in his riches: but let him that glorieth glory in this, thathe understandeth and knoweth me, that I am the Lord. "

MARRIAGE. 

CHAPTER I. 

 "Love!--A word by superstition thought a God; by use turned to an humour; by self-will made a flattering madness. "

 _Alexander and Campaspe. _

"COME hither, child, " said the old Earl of Courtland to his daughter, as, in obedience to his summons, she entered his study; "come hither, Isay; I wish to have some serious conversation with you: so dismiss yourdogs, shut the door, and sit down here. "

"Lady Juliana rang for the footman to take Venus; bade Pluto be quiet, like a darling, under the sofa; and, taking Cupid in her arms, assuredhis Lordship he need fear no disturbance from the sweet creatures, andthat she would be all attention to his commands--kissing her cherishedpug as she spoke. 

"You are now, I think, seventeen, Juliana, " said his Lordship in asolemn important tone. 

"And a half, papa. "

"It is therefore time you should be thinking of establishing yourself inthe world. Have you ever turned your thoughts that way?"

Lady Juliana cast down her beautiful eyes, and was silent. 

"As I can give you no fortune, " continued the Earl, swelling withill-suppressed importance, as he proceeded, "you have perhaps no greatpretensions to a very brilliant establishment. "

"Oh! none in the world, papa, " eagerly interrupted Lady Juliana; "a merecompetence with the man of my heart. "

"The man of a fiddlestick!" exclaimed Lord Courtland in a fury; "whatthe devil have you to do with a heart, I should like to know? There's notalking to a young woman now about marriage, but she is all in a blazeabout hearts, and darts, and--and--But hark ye, child, I'll suffer nodaughter of mine to play the fool with her heart, indeed! She shallmarry for the purpose for which matrimony was ordained amongst people ofbirth--that is, for the aggrandisement of her family, the extending oftheir political influence--for becoming, in short, the depository oftheir mutual interest. These are the only purposes for which persons ofrank ever think of marriage. And pray, what has your heart to say tothat?"

"Nothing, papa, " replied Lady Juliana in a faint dejected tone of voice. "Have done, Cupid!" addressing her favourite, who was amusing himselfin pulling and tearing the beautiful lace veil that partly shaded thehead of his fair mistress. 

"I thought not, " resumed the Earl in a triumphant tone--"I thought not, indeed. " And as this victory over his daughter put him in unusual goodhumour, he condescended to sport a little with her curiosity. 

"And pray, can this wonderful wise heart of yours inform you who it isyou are going to obtain for a husband?"

Had Lady Juliana dared to utter the wishes of that heart she would havebeen at no loss for a reply; but she saw the necessity of dissimulation;and after naming such of her admirers as were most indifferent to her, she declared herself quite at a loss, and begged her father to put anend to her suspense. 

"Now, what would you think of the Duke of L---?" asked the Earl in avoice of half-smothered exultation and delight. 

"The Duke of L-----!" repeated Lady Juliana, with a scream of horror andsurprise; "surely, papa, you cannot be serious? Why, he's red-haired andsquints, and he's as old as you. "

"If he were as old as the devil, and as ugly too, " interrupted theenraged Earl, "he should be your husband: and may I perish if you shallhave any other!"

The youthful beauty burst into tears, while her father traversed theapartment with an inflamed and wrathful visage. 

"If it had been anybody but that odious Duke, " sobbed the lovelyJuliana. 

"If it had been anybody but that odious Duke!" repeated the Earl, mimicking her, "they should not have had you. It has been my sole study, ever since I saw your brother settled, to bring about this alliance;and, when this is accomplished, my utmost ambition will be satisfied. Sono more whining--the affair is settled; and all that remains for you todo is to study to make yourself agreeable to his Grace, and to sign thesettlements. No such mighty sacrifice, me thinks, when repaid with aducal coronet, the most splendid jewels, the finest equipages, and thelargest jointure of any woman in England. "

Lady Juliana raised her head, and wiped her eyes. Lord Courtlandperceived the effect his eloquence had produced upon the childish fancyof his daughter, and continued to expatiate upon the splendid joys thatawaited her in a union with a nobleman of the Duke's rank and fortune;till at length, dazzled, if not convinced, she declared herself"satisfied that it was her duty to marry whoever papa pleased; but--"and a sigh escaped her as she contrasted her noble suitor with herhandsome lover: "but if I should marry him, papa, I am sure I shallnever be able to love him. "

The Earl smiled at her childish simplicity as he assured her that wasnot at all necessary; that love was now entirely confined to the_canaille;_ that it was very well for ploughmen and dairymaids to marryfor love; but for a young woman of rank to think of such a thing wasplebeian in the extreme!

Lady Juliana did not entirely subscribe to the arguments of her father;but the gay and glorious vision that floated in her brain stifled for awhile the pleadings of her heart; and with a sparkling eye and anelastic step she hastened to prepare for the reception of the Duke. 

For a few weeks the delusion lasted. Lady Juliana was flattered with thehomage she received as a future Duchess; she was delighted with theéclat that attended her, and charmed with the daily presentsshowered upon her by her noble suitor. 

"Well, really, Favolle, " said she to her maid, one day, as she claspedon her beautiful arm a resplendent bracelet, "it must be owned the Dukehas a most exquisite taste in trinkets; don't you think so? And, do youknow, I don't think him so very--very ugly. When we are married I meanto make him get a Brutus, cork his eyebrows, and have a set of teeth. "But just then the smiling eyes, curling hair, and finely formed personof a certain captivating Scotsman rose to view in her mind's eye; and, with a peevish "pshaw!" she threw the bauble aside. 

Educated for the sole purpose of forming a brilliant establishment, ofcatching the eye, and captivating the senses, the cultivation of hermind or the correction of her temper had formed no part of the system bywhich that aim was to be accomplished. Under the auspices of afashionable mother and an obsequious governess the froward petulance ofchildhood, fostered and strengthened by indulgence and submission, hadgradually ripened into that selfishness and caprice which now, in youth, formed the prominent features of her character. The Earl was too muchengrossed by affairs of importance to pay much attention to anything soperfectly insignificant as the mind of his daughter. Her _person_ he hadpredetermined should be entirely at his disposal, and thereforecontemplated with delight the uncommon beauty which alreadydistinguished it; not with the fond partiality of parental love, butwith the heartless satisfaction of a crafty politician. 

The mind of Lady Juliana was consequently the sport of every passionthat by turns assailed it. Now swayed by ambition, and now softened bylove, the struggle was violent, but it was short. A few days before theone which was to seal her fate she granted an interview to her lover, who, young, thoughtless, and enamoured as herself, easily succeeded inpersuading her to elope with him to Scotland. There, at the altar ofVulcan, the beautiful daughter of the Earl of Courtland gave her hand toher handsome but penniless lover; and there vowed to immolate everyambitious desire, every sentiment of vanity and high-born pride. Yet asigh arose as she looked on the filthy hut, sooty priest, and raggedwitnesses; and thought of the special license, splendid saloon, andbridal pomp that would have attended her union with the Duke. But therapturous expressions which burst from the impassioned Douglas made herforget the gaudy pleasures of pomp and fashion. Amid the sylvan scenesof the neighbouring lakes the lovers sought a shelter; and, mutuallycharmed with each other, time flew for a while on downy pinions. 

At the end of two months, however, the enamoured husband began tosuspect that the lips of his "angel Julia" could utter very sillythings; while the fond bride, on her part, discovered that though her"adored Henry's" figure was symmetry itself, yet it certainly wasdeficient in a certain air--a _je ne sais quoi_--that marks the man offashion. 

"How I wish I had my pretty Cupid here, " said her Ladyship, with a sigh, one day as she lolled on a sofa: "he had so many pretty tricks, he wouldhave helped to amuse us, and make the time pass; for really this placegrows very stupid and tiresome; don't you think so, love?"

"Most confoundedly so, my darling, " replied her husband, yawningsympathetically as he spoke. 

"Then suppose I make one more attempt to soften papa, and be receivedinto favour again?"

"With all my heart. "

"Shall I say I'm very sorry for what I have done?" asked her Ladyship, with a sigh. "You know I did not say that in my first letter. "

"Ay, do; and, if it will serve any purpose, you may say that I am noless so. "

In a few days the letter was returned, in a blank cover; and, by thesame post, Douglas saw himself superseded in the Gazette, being absentwithout leave!

There now remained but one course to pursue; and that was to seek refugeat his father's, in the Highlands of Scotland. At the first mention ofit Lady Juliana was transported with joy, and begged that a letter mightbe instantly despatched, containing the offer of a visit: she had heardthe Duchess of M. Declare nothing could be so delightful as the style ofliving in Scotland: the people were so frank and gay, and the manners soeasy and engaging--oh! it was delightful! And then Lady Jane G. And LadyMary L. , and a thousand other lords and ladies she knew, were all socharmed with the country, and all so sorry to leave it. Then dearHenry's family must be so charming: an old castle, too, was her delight;she would feel quite at home while wandering through its long galleries;and she quite loved old pictures, and armour, and tapestry; and then herthoughts reverted to her father's magnificent mansion in D---shire. 

At length an answer arrived, containing a cordial invitation from theold Laird to spend the winter with them at Glenfern Castle. 

All impatience to quit the scenes of their short lived felicity, theybade a hasty adieu to the now fading beauties of Windermere; and, fullof hope and expectation, eagerly turned towards the bleak hills ofScotland. They stopped for a short time at Edinburgh, to providethemselves with a carriage, and some other necessaries. There, too, shefortunately met with an English Abigail and footman, who, for doublewages, were prevailed upon to attend her to the Highlands; which, withthe addition of two dogs, a tame squirrel, and mackaw, completed theestablishment. 

CHAPTER II. 

 "What transport to retrace our early plays, Our easy bliss, when each thing joy supplied; The woods, the mountains, and the warbling maze Of the wild brooks. " THOMSON. 

MANY were the dreary muirs and rugged mountains her Ladyship had toencounter in her progress to Glenfern Castle; and, but for the hope ofthe new world that awaited her beyond those formidable barriers, herdelicate frame and still more sensitive feelings must have sunk beneaththe horrors of such a journey. But she remembered the Duchess had saidthe inns and roads were execrable; and the face of the country, as wellas the lower orders of people, frightful; but what signified thosethings? There were balls, and sailing parties, and rowing matches, andshooting parties, and fishing parties, and parties of every description;and the certainty of being recompensed by the festivities of GlenfernCastle, reconciled her to the ruggedness of the approach. 

Douglas had left his paternal home and native hills when only eightyears of age. A rich relation of his mother's happening to visit them atthat time, took a fancy to the boy; and, under promise of making him hisheir, had prevailed on his parents to part with him. At a proper age hewas placed in the Guards, and had continued to maintain himself in thefavor of his benefactor until his imprudent marriage, which hadirritated this old bachelor so much that he instantly disinherited him, and refused to listen to any terms of reconciliation. The impressionswhich the scenes of his infancy had left upon the mind of the youngScotsman, it may easily be supposed, were of a pleasing description. Heexpatiated to his Juliana on the wild but august scenery that surroundedrounded his father's castle, and associated with the idea the boyishexploits, which though faintly remembered, still served to endear themto his heart. He spoke of the time when he used to make one of anumerous party on the lake, and, when tired of sailing on its glassysurface to the sound of soft music, they would land at some lovely spot;and, after partaking of their banquet beneath a spreading tree, concludethe day by a dance on the grass. 

Lady Juliana would exclaim, "How delightful! I doat upon picnics anddancing! --_àpropos, _ Henry, there will surely be a ball towelcome our arrival?"

The conversation was interrupted; for just at that moment they hadgained the summit of a very high hill, and the post-boy, stopping togive his horses breath, turned round to the carriage, pointing at thesame time, with a significant gesture, to a tall thin gray house, something resembling a tower, that stood in the vale beneath. A smallsullen-looking lake was in front, on whose banks grew neither tree norshrub. Behind rose a chain of rugged cloud-capped hills, on thedeclivities of which were some faint attempts at young plantations; andthe only level ground consisted of a few dingy turnip fields, enclosedwith stone walls, or dykes, as the post-boy called them. It was nowNovember; the day was raw and cold; and a thick drizzling rain wasbeginning to fall. A dreary stillness reigned all around, broken only atintervals by the screams of the sea-fowl that hovered over the lake, onwhose dark and troubled waters was dimly descried a little boat, pliedby one solitary being. 

"What a scene!" at length Lady Juliana exclaimed, shuddering as shespoke. "Good God, what a scene! How I pity the unhappy wretches who aredoomed to dwell in such a place! and yonder hideous grim house--it makesme sick to look at it. For Heaven's sake, bid him drive on. " Anothersignificant look from the driver made the colour mount to Douglas'scheek, as he stammered out, "Surely it can't be; yet somehow I don'tknow. Pray, my lad, " setting down one of the glasses, and addressing thepost-boy, "what is the name of that house?"

"Hoose!" repeated the driver; "ca' ye thon a hoose? Thon's gude GlenfernCastle. "

Lady Juliana, not understanding a word he said, sat silently wonderingat her husband's curiosity respecting such a wretched-looking place. 

"Impossible! you must be mistaken, my lad: why, what's become of all thefine wood that used to surround it?"

"Gin you mean a wheen auld firs, there's some of them to the fore yet, "pointing to two or three tall, bare, scathed Scotch firs, that scarcelybent their stubborn heads to the wind, that now began to howl aroundthem. 

"I insist upon it that you are mistaken; you must have wandered fromthe right road, " cried the now alarmed Douglas in a loud voice, whichvainly attempted to conceal his agitation. 

"We'll shune see that, " replied the phlegmatic Scot, who, havingrested his horses and affixed a drag to the wheel, was about to proceed, when Lady Juliana, who now began to have some vague suspicion of thetruth, called to him to stop, and, almost breathless with alarm, inquired of her husband the meaning of what had passed. 

He tried to force a smile, as he said, "It seems our journey is nearlyended; that fellow persists in asserting that that is Glenfern, though Ican scarcely think it. If it is, it is strangely altered since I left ittwelve years ago. "

For a moment Lady Juliana was too much alarmed to make a reply; pale andspeechless, she sank back in the carriage; but the motion of it, as itbegan to proceed, roused her to a sense of her situation, and she burstinto tears and exclamations. 

The driver, who attributed it all to fears at descending the hill, assured her she need na be the least feared, for there were na twacannier beasts atween that and Johnny Groat's hoose; and that they wadha'e her at the castle door in a crack, gin they were ance down thebrae. "

Douglas's attempts to soothe his high-born bride were not moresuccessful than those of the driver: in vain he made use of everyendearing epithet and tender expression, and recalled the time when sheused to declare that she could dwell with him in a desert; her onlyreplies were bitter reproaches and upbraidings for his treachery anddeceit, mingled with floods of tears, and interrupted by hystericalsobs. Provoked at her folly, yet softened by her extreme distress, Douglas was in the utmost state of perplexity--now ready to give way toa paroxysm of rage; then yielding to the natural goodness of his heart, he sought to soothe her into composure; and, at length, with muchdifficulty succeeded in changing her passionate indignation into silentdejection. 

That no fresh objects of horror or disgust might appear to disturb thiscalm, the blinds were pulled down, and in this state they reachedGlenfern Castle. But there the friendly veil was necessarily with drawn, and the first object that presented itself to the highbred Englishwomanwas an old man clad in a short tartan coat and striped woollennight-cap, with blear eyes and shaking hands, who vainly strove to openthe carriage door. 

Douglas soon extricated himself, and assisted his lady to alight; thenaccosting the venerable domestic as "Old Donald, " asked him if herecollected him. 

"Weel that, weel that, Maister Hairy, and ye're welcome hame; and ye tu, bonny sir" [1] (addressing Lady Juliana, who was calling to herfootman to follow her with the mackaw); then, tottering before them, heled the way, while her Ladyship followed, leaning on her husband, hersquirrel on her other arm, preceded by her dogs, barking with all theirmight, and attended by the mackaw, screaming with all his strength; andin this state was the Lady Juliana ushered into the drawing-room ofGlenfern Castle!

[1] The Highlanders use this term of respect indifferently toboth sexes. 

CHAPTER III. 

 "What can be worse, Than to dwell here!"

 _Paradise Lost. _

IT was a long, narrow, low-roofed room, with a number of small windows, that admitted feeble lights in every possible direction. The scantyfurniture bore every appearance of having been constructed at the sametime as the edifice; and the friendship thus early formed still seemedto subsist, as the high-backed worked chairs adhered most pertinaciouslyto the gray walls, on which hung, in narrow black frames, some of thevenerable ancestors of the Douglas family. A fire, which appeared tohave been newly kindled, was beginning to burn, but, previous to showingitself in flame, had chosen to vent itself in smoke, with whichthe room was completely filled, and the open windows seemed to produceno other effect than that of admitting the rain and wind. 

At the entrance of the stranger a flock of females rushed forward to meetthem. Douglas good humouredly submitted to be hugged by three long-chinnedspinsters, whom he recognised as his aunts; and warmly saluted five awkwardpurple girls he guessed to be his sisters; while Lady Julian stood the imageof despair, and, scarcely conscious, admitted in silence the civilities ofher new relations; till, at length, sinking into a chair, she endeavouredto conceal her agitation by calling to the dogs and caressing her mackaw. 

The Laird, who had been hastily summoned from his farming operations, now entered. He was good looking old man, with something the air of agentleman, in spite of the inelegance of his dress, his rough manner, and provincial accent. After warmly welcoming his son, he advanced tohis beautiful daughter-in-law, and, taking her in his arms, bestowed aloud and hearty kiss on each cheek; then, observing the paleness of hercomplexion, and the tears that swam in her eyes, "What! not frightenedfor our Hieland hills, my leddy? Come, cheer up-trust me, ye'll find aswarm hearts among them as ony ye ha'e left in your fine English_policies_"--shaking her delicate fingers in his hard muscular gripe ashe spoke. 

The tears, which had with difficulty been hitherto suppressed, now burstin torrents from the eyes of the high-bred beauty, as she leant hercheek against the back of a chair, and gave way to the anguish whichmocked control. 

To the loud, anxious inquiries, and oppressive kindness of her homelyrelatives, she made no reply; but, stretching out her hands to herhusband sobbed, "Take, oh, take me from this place!"

Mortified, ashamed, and provoked, at a behavior so childish and absurd, Douglas could only stammer out something about Lady Juliana having beenfrightened and fatigued; and, requesting to be shown to their apartment, he supported her almost lifeless to it, while his aunts followed, allthree prescribing different remedies in a breath. 

"For heaven's sake, take them from me!" faintly articulated LadyJuliana, as she shrank from the many hands that were alternately appliedto her pulse and forehead. 

After repeated entreaties and plausible excuses from Douglas, his auntsat length consented to withdraw, and he then exerted all the rhetoric hewas master of to reconcile his bride to the situation love and necessityhad thrown her into. But in vain he employed reasoning, caresses, andthreats; the only answers he could extort were tears and entreaties tobe taken from a place where she declared she felt it impossible toexist. 

"If you wish my death, Harry, " said she, in a voice almost inarticulatefrom excess of weeping, "oh! kill me quickly, and do not leave me tolinger out my days, and perish at last with misery here. "

"For heaven's sake, tell me what you would have me do, " said herhusband, softened to pity by her extreme distress, "and I swear that ineverything possible I will comply with your wishes. "

"Oh, fly then, stop the horses, and let us return immediately. Do run, dearest Harry, or they will be gone; and we shall never get away fromthis odious place. "

"Where would you go?" asked he, with affected calmness. 

"Oh, anywhere; no matter where, so as we do but get away from hence: wecan be at no loss. "

"None in the world, " interrupted Douglas, with a bitter smile, "as longas there is a prison to receive us. See, " continued he, throwing a fewshillings down on the table, "there is every sixpence I possess in theworld, so help me heaven!"

Lady Juliana stood aghast. 

At that instant the English Abigail burst into the room, and in a voicechoking with passion, she requested her discharge, that she might returnwith the driver who had brought them there. 

"A pretty way of travelling, to be sure, it will be, " continued she, "togo bumping behind a dirty chaise-driver; but better to be shook to ajelly altogether than stay amongst such a set of _Oaten-toads. "_ [1]

[1] Hottentots. 

"What do you mean?" inquired Douglas, as soon as the voluble Abigailallowed him an opportunity of asking. 

"Why, my meaning, sir, is to leave this here place immediately; not thatI have any objections either to my Lady or you, sir; but, to be sure, itwas a sad day for me that I engaged myself to her Ladyship. Little did Ithink that a lady of distinction would coming to such a poor pitifulplace as this. I am sure I thought I should ha' swooned when I wasshowed the hole where I was to sleep. "

At the bare idea of this indignity to her person the fury of theincensed fair one blazed forth with such strength as to choke herutterance. 

Amazement had hitherto kept Lady Juliana silent; for to such scenes shewas a stranger. Born in an elevated rank, reared in state, accustomed tothe most obsequious attention, and never approached but with the respectdue rather to a _divinity_ than to a mortal, the strain of vulgarinsolence that now assailed her was no less new to her ears thanshocking to her feelings. With a voice and look that awed the woman into obedience, she commanded her to quit her presence for ever; and then, no longer able to suppress the motions of insulted pride, woundedvanity, and indignant disappointment, she gave way to a violent fit ofhysterics. 

In the utmost perplexity the unfortunate husband by turns cursed thehour that had given him such a wife; now tried to soothe her intocomposure; but at length, seriously alarmed at the increasing attack, hecalled loudly for assistance. 

In a moment the three aunts and the five sisters all rushed togetherinto the room, full of wonder, exclamation, and inquiry. Many were theremedies that were tried and the experiments that were suggested; and atlength the violence of passion exhausted itself, and a faint sob or deepsigh succeeded the hysteric scream. 

Douglas now attempted to account for the behaviour of his noble spouseby ascribing it to the fatigue she had lately undergone, joined todistress of mind at her father's unrelenting severity towards her. 

"Oh, the amiable creature!" interrupted the unsuspecting spinsters, almost stifling her with their caresses as they spoke: "Welcome, athousand times welcome, to Glenfern Castle, " said Miss Jacky, who wasesteemed by much the most sensible woman, as well as the greatest oratorin the whole parish; "nothing shall be wanting, dearest Lady Juliana, tocompensate for a parent's rigour, and make you happy and comfortable. Consider this as your future home! My sisters and myself will be asmothers to you; and see these charming young creatures, " draggingforward two tall frightened girls, with sandy hair and great purplearms; "thank Providence for having blest you with such sisters!" "Don't, speak too much, Jacky, to our dear niece at present, " said Miss Grizzy;"I think one of Lady Maclaughlan's composing draughts would be the bestthing for her. "

"Composing draughts at this time of day!" cried Miss Nicky; "Ishould think a little good broth a much wiser thing. There are someexcellent family broth making below, and I'll desire Tibby to bring afew. "

"Will you take a little soup, love?" asked Douglas. His lady assented;and Miss Nicky vanished, but quickly re-entered, followed by Tibby, carrying a huge bowl of coarse broth, swimming with leeks, greens, andgrease. Lady Juliana attempted to taste it; but her delicate palaterevolted at the homely fare; and she gave up the attempt, in spite ofMiss Nicky's earnest entreaties to take a few more of these excellentfamily broth. 

"I should think, " said Henry, as he vainly attempted to stir it round, "that a little wine would be more to the purpose than this stuff. "

The aunts looked at each other; and, withdrawing to a corner, awhispering consultation took place, in which Lady Maclaughlan's opinion, "birch, balm, currant, heating, cooling, running risks, " etc. Etc. , transpired. At length the question was carried; and some tolerablesherry and a piece of very substantial _shortbread _were produced. 

It was now voted by Miss Jacky, and carried _nem. Con. _ that her Ladyshipought to take a little repose till the hour of dinner. 

"And don't trouble to dress, " continued the considerate aunt, "for weare not very dressy here; and we are to be quite a charming familyparty, nobody but ourselves; and, " turning to her nephew, "your brotherand his wife. She is a most superior woman, though she has rather toomany of her English prejudices yet to be all we could wish; but I haveno doubt, when she has lived a little longer amongst us, she will justbecome one of ourselves. "

"I forget who she was, " said Douglas. 

"A grand-daughter of Sir Duncan Malcolm's, a very old family of the--------- blood, and nearly allied to the present Earl. And here theycome, " exclaimed she, on hearing the sound of a carriage; and all rushedout to receive them. 

"Let us have a glimpse of this scion from a noble stock, " said LadyJuliana, mimicking the accent of the poor spinsters, as she rose and ranto the window. 

"Good heavens, Henry! do come and behold this equipage;" and shelaughed with childish glee as she pointed to a plain, old-fashionedwhisky, with a large top. A tall handsome young man now alighted, andlifted out a female figure, so enveloped in a cloak that eyes lesspenetrating than Lady Juliana's could not, at a single glance, havediscovered her to be a "frightful quiz. "

"Only conceive the effect of this dashing equipage in Bond Street!"continued she, redoubling her mirth at the bright idea; then suddenlystopping, and sighing--

"Ah, my pretty _vis-à-vis!_ I remember the first time I saw you, Henry, I was in it at a review;" and she sighed still deeper. 

"True; I was then aid-de-camp to your handsome lover, the Duke ofL----------. "

"Perhaps I might think him handsome now. People's tastes alter accordingto circumstances. "

"Yours must have undergone a wonderful revolution, if you can findcharms in a hunchback of fifty three. "

"He is not a hunchback, " returned her Ladyship warmly; "only a littlehigh shouldered; but at any rate he has the most beautiful place and thefinest house in England. "

Douglas saw the storm gathering on the brow of his capricious wife, andclasping her in his arms, "Are you indeed so changed, my Julia, that youhave forgot the time when you used to declare you would prefer a desertwith your Henry to a throne with another. "

"No, certainly, not changed; but--I--I did not very well know thenwhat a desert was; or, at least, I had formed rather a different idea ofit. "

"What was your idea of a desert?" said her husband, laughing. "Do tellme, love. "

"Oh! I had fancied it a beautiful place, full of roses and myrtles, andsmooth green turf, and murmuring rivulets, and, though very retired, notabsolutely out of the world; where one could occasionally see one'sfriends, and give _dejeunés et fêtes champêtres_. "

"Well, perhaps the time may come, Juliana, when we may realise yourElysian deserts; but at present, you know, I am wholly dependent on myfather. I hope to prevail on him to do something for me; and that ourstay here will be short; as, you may be sure, the moment I can, I willtake you hence. I am sensible it is not a situation for you; but for mysake, dearest Juliana, bear with it for a while, without betraying yourdisgust. Will you do this, darling?" and he kissed away the sullen tearthat hung on her cheek. 

"You know, love, there's nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you, "replied she, as she played with her squirrel; "and as you promise ourstay shall be short, if I don't die of the horrors I shall certainly tryto make the agreeable. Oh! my cherub!" flying to her pug, who camebarking into the room "where have you been, and where's my darlingPsyche, and sweet mackaw? Do, Harry, go and see after the darlings. "

"I must go and see my brother and his wife first. Will you come, love?"

"Oh, not now; I don't feel equal to the encounter; besides, I must dress. But what shall I do? Since that vile woman's gone I can't dress myself. I never did such a thing in my life, and I am sure it's impossible thatI can, " almost weeping at the hardships she was doomed to experience inmaking her own toilet. 

"Shall I be your Abigail?" asked her husband, smiling at the distress;"me thinks it would be no difficult task to deck my Julia. "

"Dear Harry, will you really dress me? Oh! That will be delightful! Ishall die with laughing at your awkwardness;" and her beautiful eyessparkled with childish delight at the idea. 

"In the meantime, " said Douglas, "I'll send someone to unpack yourthings; and after I have shook hands with Archie, and been introduced tomy new sister, I shall enter on my office. "

"Now do, pray, make haste; for I die to see your great hands tyingstrings and sticking pins. "

Delighted with her gaiety and good humour, he left her caressing herfavourites; and finding rather a scarcity of female attendance, hedespatched two of his sisters to assist his helpless beauty in herarrangements. 

CHAPTER IV. 

 And ever against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs. "

 _L'Allegro. _

WHEN Douglas returned he found the floor strewed with dresses of everydescription, his sisters on their knees before a great trunk they werebusied in unpacking, and his Lady in her wrapper, with her hair abouther ears, still amusing herself with her pets. 

"See how good your sisters are, " said she, pointing to the poor girls, whose inflamed faces bore testimony to their labours. "I declare I amquite sorry to see them take so much trouble, " yawning as she leant backin her chair; "is it not quite shocking, Tommy? 'kissing her squirrel. '"Oh! pray, Henry, do tell me what I am to put on; for I protest I don'tknow. Favolle always used to choose for me; and so did that odiousMartin, for she had an exquisite taste. "

"Not so exquisite as your own, I am sure; so for once choose foryourself, " replied the good-humoured husband; "and pray make haste, formy father waits dinner. "

Betwixt scolding, laughing, and blundering, the dress was at lengthcompleted; and Lady Juliana, in all the pomp of dress and pride ofbeauty, descended, leaning on her husband's arm. 

On entering the drawing-room, which was now in a more comfortablestate, Douglas led her to a lady who was sitting by the fire: and, placing her hand within that of the stranger, "Juliana, my love, " saidhe, "this is a sister whom you have not yet seen, a with whom I am sureyou will gladly make acquaintance. "

The stranger received her noble sister with graceful ease; and, with asweet smile and pleasing accent, expressed herself happy in theintroduction. Lady Juliana was surprised and somewhat disconcerted. Shehad arranged her plans, and made up her mind to be _condescending;_ shehad resolved to enchant by her sweetness, dazzle by her brilliancy, andoverpower by her affability. But there was a simple dignity in the airand address of the lady, before which even high-bred affectation sankabashed. Before she found a reply to the courteous yet respectfulsalutation of her sister-in-law Douglas introduced his brother; and theold gentleman, impatient at any farther delay, taking Lady Juliana bythe hand, pulled, rather than led her into the dining-room. 

Even Lady Juliana contrived to make a meal of the roast mutton andmoorfowl; for the Laird piqued himself on the breed of his sheep, andhis son was to good a sportsman to allow his friends to want for game. 

"I think my darling Tommy would relish this grouse very much, " observedLady Juliana, as she secured the last remaining wing for her favourite. "Bring him here!" turning to the tall, dashing lackey who stood behindher chair, and whose handsome livery and well-dressed hair formed astriking contrast to old Donald's tartan jacket and bob-wig. 

"Come hither, my sweetest cherubs, " extending her arms towards thecharming trio, as they entered, barking, and chattering, and flying totheir mistress. A scene of noise and nonsense ensued. 

Douglas remained silent, mortified and provoked at the weakness of hiswife, which not even the silver tones of her voice or the elegance ofher manners could longer conceal from him. But still there was a charmin her very folly, to the eye of love, which had not yet wholly lost itspower. 

After the table was cleared, observing that he was still silent andabstracted, Lady Juliana turned to her husband, and, laying her hand onhis shoulder, "You are not well, love!" said she, looking up in hisface, and shaking back the redundant ringlets that shaded her own. 

"Perfectly so, " replied her husband, with a sigh. 

"What? Dull? Then I must sing to enliven you. "

And, leaning her head on his shoulder, she warbled a verse of thebeautiful little Venetian air, _La Biondina in Gondoletta. _ Thensuddenly stopping, and fixing her eyes on Mrs. Douglas, "I beg pardon, perhaps you don't like music; perhaps my singing's a bore. "

"You pay us a bad compliment in saying so, " said her sister-in-law, smiling; "and the only atonement you can make for such an injuriousdoubt is to proceed. "

"Does anybody sing here?" asked she, without noticing this request. "Do, somebody, sing me a song. "

"Oh! we all sing, and dance too, " said one, of the old young ladies;"and after tea we will show you some of our Scotch steps; but in themeantime Mrs. Douglas will favour us with her song. "

Mrs. Douglas assented good-humouredly, though aware that it would berather a nice point to please all parties in the choice of a song. TheLaird reckoned all foreign music--_i. E. _ everything that was notScotch--an outrage upon his ears; and Mrs. Douglas had too much taste tomurder Scotch songs with her English accent. She therefore compromisedthe matter as well as she could by selecting a Highland ditty clothed inher own native tongue; and sang with much pathos and simplicity thelamented Leyden's "Fall of Macgregor:"

 "In the vale of Glenorehy the night breeze was sighing O'er the tomb where the ancient Macgregors are lying; Green are their graves by their soft murmuring river, But the name of Macgregor has perished for ever. 

 "On a red stream of light, by his gray mountains glancing, Soon I beheld a dim spirit advancing; Slow o'er the heath of the dead was its motion, Like the shadow of mist o'er the foam of the ocean. 

 "Like the sound of a stream through the still evening dying, -- Stranger! who treads where Macgregor is lying? Darest thou to walk, unappall'd and firm-hearted, 'Mid the shadowy steps of the mighty departed?

 "See! round thee the caves of the dead are disclosing The shades that have long been in silence reposing; Thro' their forms dimly twinkles the moon-beam descending, As upon thee their red eyes of wrath they are bending. 

 "Our gray stones of fame though the heath-blossom cover, Round the fields of our battles our spirits still hover; Where we oft saw the streams running red from the mountains; But dark are our forms by our blue native fountains. 

 "For our fame melts away like the foam of the river, Like the last yellow leaves on the oak-boughs that shiver: The name is unknown of our fathers so gallant; And our blood beats no more in the breasts of the valiant. 

 "The hunter of red deer now ceases to number The lonely gray stones on the field of our slumber. -- Fly, stranger! and let not thine eye be reverted. Why should'st thou see that our fame is departed?"

"Pray, do you play on the harp, " asked the volatile lady, scarcelywaiting till the first stanza was ended; "and, _apropos, _ have you agood harp here?"

"We've a very sweet spinnet, " said Miss Jacky, "which, in my opinion, isa far superior instrument: and Bella will give us a tune upon it. Bella, my dear, let Lady Juliana hear how well you can play. "

Bella, blushing like a peony rose, retired to a corner of the room, where stood the spinnet; and with great, heavy, trembling hands, beganto belabour the unfortunate instrument, while the aunts beat time, andencouraged her to proceed with exclamations of admiration and applause. 

"You have done very well, Bella, " said Mrs. Douglas, seeing herpreparing to _execute_ another piece, and pitying the poor girl, as wellas her auditors. Then whispering Miss Jacky that Lady Juliana lookedfatigued, they arose to quit the room. 

"Give me your arm, love, to the drawing-room, " said her Ladyshiplanguidly. "And now, pray, don't be long away, " continued she, as heplaced her on the sofa, and returned to the gentlemen. 

CHAPTER V. 

 "You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting, With most admired disorder. "

 _Macbeth. _

THE interval, which seemed of endless duration to the hapless LadyJuliana, was passed by the aunts in giving sage counsel as to the courseof life to be pursued by married ladies. Worsted stockings and quiltedpetticoats were insisted upon as indispensable articles of dress; whileit was plainly insinuated that it was utterly impossible any child couldbe healthy whose mother had not confined her wishes to barley broth andoatmeal porridge. 

"Only look at thae young lambs, " said Miss Grizzy, pointing to the fivegreat girls; "see what pickters of health they are! I'm sure I hope, mydear niece, your children will be just the same--only boys, for we aresadly in want of boys. It's melancholy to think we have not a boy amongus, and that a fine auntient race like ours should be dying away forwant of male heirs. " And the tears streamed down the cheeks of the goodspinster as she spoke. 

The entrance of the gentlemen put a stop to the conversation. 

Flying to her husband, Lady Juliana began to whisper, in very audibletones, her inquires, whether he had yet got any money--when they were togo away, etc. Etc. 

"Does your Ladyship choose any tea?" asked Miss Nicky, as shedisseminated the little cups of coarse black liquid. 

"Tea! oh no, I never drink tea. I'll take some coffee though; and Psychedoats on a dish of tea. " And she tendered the beverage that had beenintended for herself to her favourite. 

"Here's no coffee, " said Douglas, surveying the tea-table; "but I willring for some, " as he pulled the bell. 

Old Donald answered the summons. 

"Where's the coffee?" demanded Miss Nicky. 

"The coffee!" repeated the Highlander; "troth, Miss Nicky, an' it's beenclean forgot. "

"Well, but you can get it yet?" said Douglas. 

"'Deed, Maister Harry, the night's owre far gane for't noo; for thefire's a' ta'en up, ye see, " reckoning with his fingers, as heproceeded; "there's parritch makin' for oor supper; and there's patateesboiling for the beasts; and--"

"I'll see about it myself, " said Miss Nicky, leaving the room, with oldDonald at her back, muttering all the way. 

The old Laird, all this while, had been enjoying his evening nap; but, that now ended, and the tea equipage being dismissed, starting up, heasked what they were about, that the dancing was not begun. 

"Come, my Leddy, we'll set the example, " snapping his fingers, andsinging in a hoarse voice, "The mouse is a merry beastie, And the moudiwort wants the een; But folk sail ne'er get wit, Sae merry as we twa ha'e been. '

"But whar's the girlies?" cried he. "Ho! Belle, Becky, Betty, Baby, Beeny--to your posts!"

The young ladies, eager for the delights of music and dancing, nowentered, followed by Coil, the piper, dressed in the native garb, withcheeks seemingly ready blown for the occasion. After a little struttingand puffing, the pipes were fairly set a going in Coil's most spiritedmanner. But vain would be the attempt to describe Lady Juliana's horrorand amazement at the hideous sounds that for the first time assailed herear. Tearing herself from the grasp of the old gentleman, who was justsetting off in the reel, she flew shrieking to her husband, and threwherself trembling into his arms, while he called loudly to the selfdelighted Coil to stop. 

"What's the matter? what's the matter?" cried the whole family, gathering round. 

"Matter!" repeated Douglas furiously; "you have frightened Lady Julianato death with your infernal music. What did you mean, " turning fiercelyto the astonished piper, "by blowing that confounded bladder?"

Poor Coil gaped with astonishment; for never before had his performanceon the bagpipe been heard but with admiration and applause. 

"A bonny bargain, indeed, that canna stand the pipes, " said the oldgentleman, as he went puffing up and down the room. "She's no the wifefor a Heelandman. Confoonded blather, indeed! By my faith, ye're noblate!"

"I declare it's the most distressing thing I ever met with, " sighed MissGrizzy. "I wonder whether it could be the sight or the sound of thebagpipe that frightened our dear niece. I wish to goodness LadyMaclaughlan was here!"

"It's impossible the bagpipe could frighten anybody, " said Miss Jacky, in a high key; "nobody with common sense could be frightened at abagpipe. "

Mrs. Douglas here mildly interposed, and soothed down the offended prideof the Highlanders by attributing Lady Juliana's agitation entirely to_surprise. _ The word operated like a charm; all were ready to admit thatit was a surprising thing when heard for the first time. Miss Jackyremarked that we are all liable to be surprised; and the still moresapient Grizzy said that, indeed, it was most surprising the effect thatsurprise had upon some people. For her own part, she could not deny butthat she was very often frightened when she was surprised. 

Douglas, meanwhile, was employed in soothing the terrors, real oraffected, of his delicate bride, who declared herself so exhausted withthe fatigue she had undergone, and the sufferings she had endured, thatshe must retire for the night. Henry, eager to escape from the questionsand remarks of his family, gladly availed himself of the same excuse;and, to the infinite mortification of both aunts and nieces, the ballwas broken up. 

CHAPTER VI

 "What choice to choose for delicacy best. "

 Milton

OF what nature were the remarks passed in the parlour upon the newmarried couple has not reached the writer of these memoirs with as muchexactness as the foregoing circumstances; but they may in part beimagined from the sketch already given of the characters which formedthe Glenfern party. The conciliatory indulgence of Mrs. Douglas, whenaided by the good-natured Miss Grizzy, doubtless had a favourable effecton the irritated pride but short-lived acrimony of the old gentleman. Certain it is that, before the evening concluded, they appeared allrestored to harmony, and retired to their respective chambers in hopesof beholding a more propitious morrow. 

Who has not perused sonnets, odes, and speeches in praise of that balmyblessing sleep; from the divine effusions of Shakespeare down to thedrowsy notes of newspaper poets?

Yet cannot too much be said in its commendation. Sweet is its influenceon the careworn eyes to tears accustomed. In its arms the statesmanforgets his harassed thoughts; the weary and the poor are blessed withits charms; and conscience--even conscience--is sometimes soothed intosilence, while the sufferer sleeps. But nowhere, perhaps, is itsinfluence more happily felt than in the heart oppressed by the harassingaccumulation of petty ills; like a troop of locusts, making up by theirnumber and their stings what they want in magnitude. 

Mortified pride in discovering the fallacy of our own judgment; to beashamed of what we love, yet still to love, are feelings mostunpleasant; and though they assume not the dignity of deep distress, yetphilosophy has scarce any power to soothe their worrying, incessantannoyance. Douglas was glad to forget himself in sleep. He had thought avast deal that day, and of unpleasant subjects, more than the whole ofhis foregoing life would have produced. If he did not curse the fairobject of his imprudence, he at least cursed his own folly and himself;and these were his last waking thoughts. 

But Douglas could not repose as long as the seven sleepers, and, inconsequence of having retired sooner to bed than he was accustomed todo, he waked at an early hour in the morning. 

The wonderful activity which people sometimes feel when they have littleto do with their bodies, and less with their minds, caused him to risehastily and dress, hoping to pick up a new set of ideas by virtue of hislocomotive powers. 

On descending to the dining-parlour he found his father seated at thewindow, carefully perusing a pamphlet written to illustrate theprinciple, _Let nothing be lost, _ and containing many sage and eruditedirections for the composition and dimensions of that ornament to agentleman's farmyard, and a cottager's front door, ycleped, in thelanguage of the country, a _midden_--with the signification of which wewould not, for the world, shock the more refined feelings of oursouthern readers. 

Many were the inquiries about dear Lady Juliana; hoped she had restedwell; hoped the found the bed comfortable, etc. Etc. These inquirieswere interrupted by the Laird, who requested is son to take a turn withhim while breakfast was getting ready, that they might talk over pastevents and new plans; that he might see the new planting on the hill; thedraining of the great moss; with other agricultural concerns which weshall omit, not having the same power of commanding attention for ourreaders as the Laird had from his hearers. 

After repeated summonses and many inquiries from the impatient partyalready assembled the breakfast table, Lady Juliana made her appearance, accompanied by her favourites, whom no persuasions of her husband couldprevail upon her to leave behind. 

As she entered the room her olfactory nerves were smote with gales, not of "Araby the blest, " but of old cheese and herrings, with which thehospitable board was amply provided. 

The ladies having severally exchanged the salutations of the morning, Miss Nicky commenced the operation of pouring out tea, while the Lairdlaid a large piece of herring on her Ladyship's plate. 

"Good heavens! what am I to do with this?" exclaimed she. "Do take itaway, or I shall faint!"

"Brother', brother!" cried Miss Grizzy in a tone of alarm, "I beg youwon't place any unpleasant object before the eyes of our dear niece. Ideclare! Pray, was it the sight or the smell of the beast [1] thatshocked you so much, my dear Lady Juliana? I'm sure I wish to goodnessLady Maclaughlan was come!"

[1] In Scotland everything that flies and swims ranks in the bestial tribe. 

Mr. Douglas, or the Major, as he was styled, immediately rose and pulledthe bell. 

"Desire my gig to be got ready directly!" said he. 

The aunts drew up stiffly, and looked at each other without speaking;but the old gentleman expressed his surprise that his son should thinkof leaving them so soon. 

"May we inquire the reason of this sudden resolution?" at length saidMiss Jacky in a tone of stifled indignation. 

"Certainly, if you are disposed to hear it; it is because I find thatthere is company expected. "

The three ladies turned up their hands and eyes in speechless horror. 

"Is it that virtuous woman Lady Maclaughlan you would shun, nephew?"demanded Miss Jacky. 

"It is that insufferable woman I would shun, " replied her nephew, with aheightened colour and a violence very unusual with him. 

The good Miss Grizzy drew out her pocket-handkerchief, while Mrs. Douglas vainly endeavoured to silence her husband, and avert the risingstorm. 

"Dear Douglas!" whispered his wife in a tone of reproach. 

"Oh, pray let him go on, " said Miss Jacky, almost choking under theeffort she made to appear calm. "Let him go on. Lady Maclaughlan'scharacter, luckily, is far above the reach of calumny; nothing that Mr. Archibald Douglas can say will have power to change our opinions, or, Ihope, to prejudice his brother and Lady Juliana against this mostexemplary, virtuous woman--a woman of family--of fortune--of talents ofaccomplishments; a woman of unblemished reputation--of the strictestmorals, sweetest temper, charming heart, delightful spirits, socharitable--every year gives fifty flannel petticoats to the old peopleof the parish---"

"Then such a wife as she is!" sobbed out Miss Grizzy. "She hasinvented I don't know how many different medicines for Sir Sampson'scomplaint, and makes a point of his taking some of them every day; butfor her I'm sure he would have been in his grave long ago. "

"She's doing all she can to send him there, as she has done many a poorwretch already, with her infernal compositions. "

Here Miss Grizzy sank back in her chair, overcome with horror; and MissNicky let fall the teapot, the scalding contents of which dischargedthemselves upon the unfortunate Psyche, whose yells, mingling with thescreams of its fair mistress, for a while drowned even Miss Jacky'soratory. 

"Oh, what shall I do?" cried Lady Juliana, as she bent over herfavourite. "Do send for a surgeon; pray, Henry, fly! Do fetch onedirectly, or she will die; and it would quite kill me to lose mydarling. Do run, dearest Harry!"

"My dear Julia, how can you be so absurd? There's no surgeon withintwenty miles of this. "

"No surgeon within twenty miles!" exclaimed she, starting up. "Howcould you bring me to such a place? Good God! those dear creatures maydie--I may die myself--before I can get any assistance!"

"Don't be alarmed, my dearest niece, " said the good Miss Grizzy; "we areall doctors here. I understand something of physic myself; and ourfriend Lady Maclaughlan, who, I daresay, will be here presently, isperfect mistress of every disease of the human frame. "

"Clap a cauld potatae to the brute's tae, " cried the oldLaird gruffly. 

"I've a box of her scald ointment that will cure it in a minute. "

"If it don't cure, it will kill, " said Mr. Douglas, with a smile. 

"Brother, " said Miss Jacky, rising with dignity from her chair, andwaving her hand as she spoke-"brother, I appeal to you to protect thecharacter of this most amiable, respectable matron from the insults andcalumny your son thinks proper to load it with. Sir Sampson Maclaughlanis your friend, and it therefore becomes your duty to defend his wife. "

"Troth, but I'll hae aneugh to do if I am to stand up for a' my friends'wives, " said the old gentleman. "But, however, Archie, you are to blame:Leddy Maclaughlan is a very decent woman--at least, as far as Iken--though she is a little free in the gab; and out of respect to myauld friend Sir Sampson, it is my desire that you should remain here toreceive him, and that you trait baith him and his Lady discreetly. "

This was said in too serious a tone to be disputed, and his son wasobliged to submit. 

The ointment meanwhile having been applied to Psyche's paw, peacewas restored, and breakfast, recommenced. 

"I declare our dear niece has not tasted a morsel, " observed Miss Nicky. 

"Bless me, here's charming barley meal scones, " cried one, thrusting aplateful of them before her. "Here's tempting pease bannocks, "interposed another, "and oat cakes. I'm sure your Ladyship never sawsuch cakes. "

"I can't eat any of those things, " said their delicate niece, with anair of disgust. "I should like some muffin and chocolate. "

"You forget you are not in London, my love, " said her husbandreproachfully. 

"No indeed, I do not forget it. Well then, give me some toast, " with anair of languid condescension. 

"Unfortunately, we happen be quite out of loaf bread at present, " saidMiss Nicky; "but we've sent to Drymsine for some. They bake excellentbread at Drymsine. "

"Is there nothing within the bounds of possibility you would fancy, Julia?" asked Douglas. "Do think, love. "

"I think I should like some grouse, or a beefsteak, if it was verynicely done, " returned her Ladyship in a languishing tone. 

"Beef-steak!" repeated Miss Grizzy. 

"Beef-steak!" responded Miss Jacky. 

"Beef-steak!" reverberated Miss Nicky. 

After much deliberation and consultation amongst the three spinsters, itwas at length unanimously carried that the Lady's whim should beindulged. 

"Only think, sisters, " observed Miss Grizzy in an undertone, "whatreflections we should have to make upon ourselves if the child was toresemble a moorfowl!"

"Or have a face like a raw beef-steak!" said Miss Nicky. 

These arguments were unanswerable; and a smoking steak and plumpmoor-fowl were quickly produced, of which Lady Juliana partook incompany with her four-footed favourites. 

CHAPTER VII

 "When winter soaks, the fields, and female feet-- Too weak to struggle with tenacious clay, Or ford the rivulets--are best at home. "

 _The Task_

THE meal being at length concluded, Glenfern desired Henry to attend himon a walk, as he wished to have a little more private conversation withhim. Lady Juliana was beginning a remonstrance against the cruelty oftaking Harry away from her, when her husband whispering her that hehoped to make something of the old gentleman, and that he should soon beback, she suffered him to depart in silence. 

Old Donald having at length succeeded in clearing the table of itsheterogeneous banquet, it was quickly covered with the young ladies'work. 

Miss Nicky withdrew to her household affairs. Miss Jacky sat with oneeye upon Lady Juliana, the other upon her five nieces. Miss Grizzyseated herself by her Ladyship, holding a spread letter of LadyMaclaughlan's before her as a screen. 

While the young ladies busily plied their needles, the elder ones leftno means untried to entertain their listless niece, whose only replieswere exclamations of weariness, or expressions of affection bestowedupon her favourites. 

At length even Miss Jacky's sense and Miss Grizzy's good nature were _atfault;_ when a ray of sunshine darting into the room suggested the ideaof a walk. The proposal was made, and assented to by her Ladyship, inthe twofold hope of meeting her husband and pleasing her dogs, whosewhining and scratching had for some time testified their desire of achange. The ladies therefore separated to prepare for their _sortie, _after many recommendations from the aunts to be sure to _hap_ [1] well;but, as if distrusting her powers in that way, they speedily equippedthemselves, and repaired to her chamber, arrayed _cap a' pie_ in thewalking costume of Glenfern Castle. And, indeed, it must be owned theirstyle of dress was infinitely more judicious than that of theirfashionable niece; and it was not surprising that they, in their shrunkduffle greatcoats, vast poke-bonnets, red worsted neckcloths, andpattens, should gaze with horror at her lace cap, lilac satin pelisse, and silk shoes. Ruin to the whole race of Glenfern, present and future, seemed inevitable from such a display of extravagance and imprudence. Having surmounted the first shock, Miss Jacky made a violent effort tosubdue her rising wrath; and, with a sort of convulsive smile, addressedLady Juliana: "Your Ladyship, I perceive, is not of the opinion of ourinimitable bard, who, in his charming poem, 'The Seasons, ' says' Beautyneeds not the foreign aid of ornament; but is, when unadorned, adornedthe most. ' That is a truth that ought to be impressed on every youngwoman's mind. "

[1] Wrap. 

Lady Juliana only stared. She was as little accustomed to be advised asshe was to hear Thomson's "Seasons" quoted. 

"I declare that's all quite true, " said the more temporising Grizzy;"and certainly our girls are not in the least taken up about theirdress, poor things! which is a great comfort. At the same time, I'm sureit's no wonder your Ladyship should be taken up about yours, forcertainly that pelisse is most beautiful. Nobody can deny that; and Idaresay it is the very newest fashion. At the same time, I'm just afraidthat it's rather too delicate, and that it might perhaps get a littledirty on our roads; for although, in general, our roads are quiteremarkable for being always dry, which is a great comfort in thecountry, yet you know the very best roads of course must be wetsometimes. And there's a very bad step just at the door almost, whichGlenfern has been always speaking about getting mended. But, to be sure, he has so many things to think about that it's no wonder he forgetssometimes; but I daresay he will get it done very soon now. "

The prospect of the road being mended produced no better effect than thequotation from Thomson's "Seasons. " It was now Miss Nicky's turn. 

"I'm afraid your Ladyship will frighten our stirks and stots with yourfinery. I assure you they are not accustomed to see such fine figures;and"--putting her hand out at the window--"I think it's spittingalready. " [1]

[1] A common expression in Scotland to signify slight rain. 

All three now joined in the chorus, beseeching Lady Juliana to put onsomething warmer and more wiselike. 

"I positively have nothing, " cried she, wearied with theirimportunities, "and I shan't get any winter things now till I return totown. My _roquelaire_ does very well for the carriage. "

The acknowledgment at the beginning of this speech was enough. All threeinstantly disappeared like the genii of Aladin's lamp, and, like thatsame person, presently returned, loaded with what, in their eyes, wereprecious as the gold of Arabia. One displayed a hard worsted shawl, witha flower-pot at each corner; another held up a tartan cloak, with ahood; and a third thrust forward a dark cloth Joseph, lined withflannel; while one and all showered down a variety of old bonnets, furtippets, hair soles, clogs, pattens, and endless _et ceteras_. LadyJuliana shrank with disgust from these "delightful haps, " and resistedall attempts to have them forced upon her, declaring, in a manner whichshowed her determined to have her own way, that she would either go outas she was or not go out at all. The aunts were therefore obliged tosubmit, and the party proceeded to what was termed the high road, thougha stranger would have sought in vain for its pretensions to thattitle. Far as the eye could reach--and that was far enough--not a singlevehicle could be descried on it, though its deep ruts showed that it waswell frequented by carts. The scenery might have had charms for Ossian, but it had none for Lady Juliana, who would rather have been entangledin a string of Bond Street equipages than traversing "the lonely heath, with the stream murmuring hoarsely, the old trees groaning in the wind, the troubled lake, " and the still more troubled sisters. As may besupposed, she very soon grew weary of the walk. The bleak wind piercedher to the soul; her silk slippers and lace flounces becameundistinguishable masses of mud; her dogs chased the sheep, and were, intheir turn, pursued by the "nowts, " as the ladies termed the steers. Onesister expatiated on the great blessing of having a peat moss at theirdoor; another was at pains to point out the purposed site of a set ofnew offices; and the third lamented that her Ladyship had not on thickershoes, that she might have gone and seen the garden. More than everdisgusted and wretched, the hapless Lady Juliana returned to the houseto fret away the time till her husband's return. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

 "On se rend insupportable dans la société par des défauts légers, mais qui se font sentir à tout moment. "--VOLTAIRE. 

THE family of Glenfern have already said so much for themselves that itseems as if little remained to be told by their biographer. Mrs. Douglaswas the only member of the community who was at all conscious of theunfortunate association of characters and habits that had just takenplace. She was a stranger to Lady Juliana; but she was interested by heryouth, beauty, and elegance, and felt for the sacrifice she had made--asacrifice so much greater than it was possible she ever could haveconceived or anticipated. She could in some degree enter into the natureof her feelings towards the old ladies; for she too had felt howdisagreeable people might contrive to render themselves without beingguilty of any particular fault, and how much more difficult it is tobear with the weaknesses than the vices of our neighbours. Had theseladies' failings been greater in a moral point of view, it might nothave been so arduous a task to put up with them. But to love such a setof little, trifling, tormenting foibles, all dignified with the name ofvirtues, required, from her elegant mind, an exertion of its highestprinciples--a continual remembrance of that difficult Christian precept, "to bear with one another. " A person of less sense than Mrs. Douglaswould have endeavoured to open the eyes of their understandings on whatappeared to be the folly and narrow mindedness of their ways; but sherefrained from the attempt, not from want of benevolent exertion, butfrom an innate conviction that their foibles all originated in what wasnow incurable, viz. The natural weakness of their minds, together withtheir ignorance of the world and the illiberality and prejudices of avulgar education. "These poor women, " reasoned the charitableMrs. Douglas, "are perhaps, after all, better characters in the sight ofGod than I am. He who has endowed us all as His wisdom has seen fit, andhas placed me amongst them, oh, may He teach me to remember that we areall His children, and enable me to bear with their faults, while I studyto correct my own. "

Thus did this amiable woman contrive not only to live in peace, but, without sacrificing her own liberal ideas, to be actually beloved bythose amongst whom her lot had been cast, however dissimilar to herself. But for that Christian spirit (in which must ever be included a liberalmind and gentle temper), she must have felt towards her connexions astill stronger repugnance than was even manifested by Lady Juliana; forLady Juliana's superiority over them was merely that of refined habitsand elegant manners; whereas Mrs. Douglas's was the superiority of anoble and highly-gifted mind, which could hold no intercourse withtheirs except by stooping to the level of their low capacities. But, that the merit of her conduct may be duly appreciated, I shall endeavourto give a slight sketch of the female _dramatis personae_ of GlenfernCastle. 

Miss Jacky, the senior of the trio, was what is reckoned a very sensiblewoman--which generally means, a very disagreeable, obstinate, illiberaldirector of all men, women, and children--a sort of superintendent ofall actions, time, and place--with unquestioned authority to arraign, judge, and condemn upon the statutes of her own supposed sense. Mostcountry parishes have their sensible woman, who lays down the law on allaffairs, spiritual and temporal. Miss Jacky stood unrivalled as thesensible woman of Glenfern. She had attained this eminence partly fromhaving a little more understanding than her sisters, but principallyfrom her dictatorial manner, and the pompous decisive tone in which shedelivered the most commonplace truths. At home her supremacy in allmatters of sense was perfectly established; and thence the infection, like other superstitions, had spread over the whole neighbourhood. Assensible woman she regulated the family, which she took care to leteverybody see; she was conductor of her nieces' education, which shetook care to let everybody hear; she was a sort of postmistressgeneral--a detector of all abuses and impositions; and deemed it herprerogative to be consulted about all the useful and useless thingswhich everybody else could have done as well. She was liberal of heradvice to the poor, always enforcing upon them the iniquity of idleness, but doing nothing for them in the way of employment--strict economybeing one of the many points in which she was particularly sensible. Theconsequence was, while she was lecturing half the poor women in theparish for their idleness, the bread was kept out of their mouths by theincessant carding of wool and knitting of stockings, and spinning, andreeling, and winding, and pirning, that went on amongst the ladiesthemselves. And, by-the-bye, Miss Jacky is not the only sensible womanwho thinks she is acting a meritorious part when she converts what oughtto be the portion of the poor into the employment of the affluent. 

In short, Miss Jacky was all over sense. A skilful physiognomist would, at a single glance, have detected the sensible woman, in the erect head, the compressed lips, square elbows, and firm judicious step. Even hervery garments seemed to partake of the prevailing character of theirmistress: her ruff always looked more sensible than any other body's;her shawl sat most sensibly on her shoulders; her walking shoes wereacknowledged to be very sensible; and she drew on her gloves with an airof sense, as if the one arm had been Seneca, the other Socrates. Fromwhat has been said it may easily be inferred that Miss Jacky was in factanything but a sensible woman; as indeed no woman can be who bears suchvisible outward marks of what is in reality the most quiet andunostentatious of all good qualities. But there is a spurious sense, which passes equally well with the multitude; it is easily assumed, andstill more easily maintained; common truths and a grave dictatorial airbeing all that is necessary for its support. 

Miss Grizzy's character will not admit of so long a commentary as thatof her sister. She was merely distinguishable from nothing by her simplegood nature, the inextricable entanglement of her thoughts, her love ofletter-writing, and her friendship with Lady Maclaughlan. Miss Nicky hadabout as much sense as Miss Jacky; but, as no kingdom can maintain twokings, so no family can admit of two sensible women; and Nicky wastherefore obliged to confine hers to the narrowest possible channels ofhousekeeping, mantua-making, etc. , and to sit down for life (or at leasttill Miss Jacky should be married) with the dubious character of "notwanting for sense either. " With all these little peccadilloes thesisters possessed some good properties. They were well-meaning, kind-hearted, and, upon the whole, good-tempered they loved one another, revered their brother, doated upon their nephews and nieces, took alively interest in the poorest of their poor cousins, a hundred degreesremoved, and had a firm conviction of the perfectibility of humannature, as exemplified in the persons of all their own friends. "Eventheir failings leaned to virtue's side;" for whatever they did was withthe intention of doing good, though the means they made use of generallyproduced an opposite effect. But there are so many Miss Douglases in theworld that doubtless everyone of my readers is as well acquainted withthem as I am myself. I shall therefore leave them to finish the pictureaccording to their ideas, while I return to the parlour, where theworthy spinsters are seated in expectation of the arrival of theirfriend. 

CHAPTER IX. 

 "Though both Not equal, as their sex not equal seemed-- For contemplation he, and valour formed; For softness she, and sweet attractive grace. "

 MILTON. 

"WHAT _can_ have come over Lady Maclaughlan?" said Miss Grizzy, as shesat at the window in a dejected attitude. 

"I think I hear a carriage at last, " cried Miss Jacky, turning up herears. "Wisht! let us listen. "

"It's only the wind, " sighed Miss Grizzy. 

"It's the cart with the bread, " said Miss Nicky. 

"It's Lady Maclaughlan, I assure you, " pronounced Miss Jacky. 

The heavy rumble of a ponderous vehicle now proclaimed the approach ofthe expected visitor; which pleasing anticipation was soon changed intoblissful certainty by the approach of a high-roofed, square bottomed, pea-green chariot, drawn by two long-tailed white horses, and followedby a lackey in the Highland garb. Out of this equipage issued a figure, clothed in a light-coloured, large-flowered chintz raiment, carefullydrawn through the pocket-holes, either for its own preservation, or themore disinterested purpose of displaying a dark short stuff petticoat, which, with the same liberality, afforded ample scope for the survey ofa pair of worsted stockings and black leather shoes, somethingresembling buckets. A faded red cloth jacket, which bore evident marksof having been severed from its native skirts, now acted in the capacityof a spencer. On the head rose a stupendous fabric, in the form of acap, on the summit of which was placed a black beaver hat, tied_à la poissarde. _ A small black satin muff in one hand, and agold-headed walking-stick in the other, completed the dress anddecoration of this personage. 

The lackey, meanwhile, advanced to the carriage; and, putting in bothhis hands, as if to catch so something, he pulled forth a small bundle, enveloped in a military cloak, the contents of which would have baffledconjecture, but for the large cocked hat and little booted leg whichprotruded at opposite extremities. 

A loud but slow and well-modulated voice now resounded through thenarrow stone passage that conducted to the drawing-room. 

"Bring him in--bring him in, Philistine! I always call my manPhilistine, because he has Sampson in his hands. Set him down there, "pointing to an easy chair, as the group now entered, headed by LadyMaclaughlan. 

"Well, girls!" addressing the venerable spinsters, as they severallyexchanged a tender salute; "so you're all alive, I see;--humph!"

"Dear Lady Maclaughlan, allow me to introduce our beloved niece, LadyJuliana Douglas, " said Miss Grizzy, leading her up, and bridling as shespoke with ill-suppressed exultation. 

"So--you're very pretty--yes, you are very pretty!" kissing theforehead, cheeks, and chin of the youthful beauty between every pause. Then, holding her at arm's length, she surveyed her from head to foot, with elevated brows, and a broad fixed stare. 

"Pray sit down, Lady Maclaughlan, " cried her three friends all at once, each tendering a chair. 

"Sit down!" repeated she; "why, what should I sit down for? I choose tostand--I don't like to sit--I never sit at home--do I, Sir Sampson?"turning to the little warrior, who, having been seized with a violentfit of coughing on his entrance, had now sunk back, seemingly quiteexhausted, while the _Philistine_ was endeavouring to disencumber him ofhis military accoutrements. 

"How very distressing Sir Sampson's cough is!" said the sympathisingMiss Grizzy. 

"Distressing, child! No--it's not the least distressing. How can a thingbe distressing that does no harm? He's much the better of it--it's theonly exercise he gets. "

"Oh! well, indeed, if that's the case, it would be a thousand pities tostop it, " replied the accommodating spinster. 

"No, it wouldn't be the least pity to stop it!" returned LadyMaclaughlan, in her loud authoritative tone; "because, though it's notdistressing, it's very disagreeable. But it cannot be stopped--you mightas well talk of stopping the wind--it is a cradle cough. "

"My dear Lady Maclaughlan!" screamed Sir Sampson in a shrill pipe, as hemade an effort to raise himself, and rescue his cough from thisaspersion; "how can you persist in saying so, when I have told you sooften it proceeds entirely from a cold caught a few years ago, when Iattended his Majesty at-----" Here a violent relapse carried theconclusion of the sentence along with it. 

"Let him alone-don't meddle with him, " called his lady to the assiduousnymphs who were bustling around him; "leave him to Philistine; he's invery good hands when he is in Philistine's. " Then resting her chin uponthe head of her stick, she resumed her scrutiny of Lady Juliana. 

"You really are a pretty creature! You've got a very handsome nose, and your mouth's very well, but I don't like your eyes; they're toolarge and too light; they're saucer eyes, and I don't like saucer eyes. Why ha'nt you black eyes? You're not a bit like your father--I knewhim very well. Your mother was an heiress; your father married her forher money, and she married him to be a Countess; and so that's thehistory of their marriage-humph. "

This well-bred harangue was delivered in an unvarying tone, and withunmoved muscles; for though the lady seldom failed of calling forth someconspicuous emotion, either of shame, mirth, or anger, on thecountenances of her hearers, she had never been known to betray anycorrespondent feelings on her own; yet her features were finely formed, marked, and expressive; and, in spite of her ridiculous dress andeccentric manners, an air of dignity was diffused over her whole person, that screened her from the ridicule to which she must otherwise havebeen exposed. Amazement at the uncouth garb and singular address of LadyMaclaughlan was seldom unmixed with terror at the stern imperious mannerthat accompanied all her actions. Such were the feelings of Lady Julianaas she remained subjected to her rude gaze and impertinent remarks. 

"My Lady?" squeaked Sir Sampson from forth his easy chair. 

"My love?" interrogated his lady as she leant upon her stick. 

"I want to be introduced to my Lady Juliana Douglas; so give me yourhand, " attempting, at the same time, to emerge from the huge leathernreceptacle into which he had been plunged by the care of the kindsisters. 

"Oh, pray sit still, dear Sir Sampson, " cried they as usual all at once;"our sweet niece will come to you, don't take the trouble to rise; praydon't, " each putting a hand on this man of might, as he was half risen, and pushing him down. 

"Ay, come here, my dear, " said Lady Maclaughlan; "you're abler to walkto Sir Sampson than he to you, " pulling Lady Juliana in front of theeasy chair; "there--that's her; you see she is very pretty. "

"Zounds, what is the meaning of all this?" screamed the enraged baronet. "My Lady Juliana Douglas, I am shocked beyond expression at this freedomof my lady's. I beg your ladyship ten thousand pardons; pray be seated. I'm shocked; I am ready to faint at the impropriety of thisintroduction, so contrary to all rules of etiquette. How _could _youbehave in such a manner, my Lady Maclaughlan?"

"Why, you know, my dear, your legs may be very good legs, but they can'twalk, " replied she, with her usual _sang froid. _

"My Lady Maclaughlan, you perfectly confound me, " stuttering with rage. "My lady Juliana Douglas, see here, " stretching out a meagre shank, towhich not even the military boot and large spur could give a respectableappearance: "You see that leg strong and straight, " stroking it down--;"now, behold the fate of war!" dragging forward the other, which wasshrunk and shrivelled to almost one half its original dimensions. "Theselegs were once the same; but I repine not--I sacrificed it in a noblecause: to that leg my Sovereign owes his life!"

"Well, I declare, I had no idea; I thought always it had beenrheumatism, " burst from the lips of the astonished spinsters, as theycrowded round the illustrious limb, and regarded it with looks ofveneration. 

"Humph!" emphatically uttered his lady. 

"The story's a simple one, ladies, and soon told: I happened to beattending his Majesty at a review; I was then aid-de-camp to Lord -----. His horse took fright, I--I--I, "--here, in spite of all the efforts thatcould be made to suppress it, the _royal_ _cough _burst forth with aviolence that threatened to silence its brave owner for ever. 

"It's very strange you will talk, my love, " said his sympathising lady, as she supported him; "talking never did, nor never will agree with you;it's very strange what pleasure people take in talking--humph!"

"Is there anything dear Sir Sampson could take?" asked Miss Grizzy. 

_"Could_ take? I don't know what you mean by _could_ take. He couldn'ttake the moon, if you meant hat; but he must take what I give him; socall Philistine; he knows where my cough tincture is. "

"Oh, we have plenty of it in this press, " said Miss Grizzy, flyingto a cupboard, and, drawing forth a bottle, she poured out a bumper, and presented it to Sir Sampson. 

"I'm poisoned!" gasped he feebly; "that's not my lady's cough-tincture. "

"Not cough-tincture!" repeated the horror-struck doctress, as for thefirst time she examined the label; "Oh! I declare, neither it is--it'smy own stomach lotion. Bless me, what will be done?" and she wrung herhands in despair. "Oh, Murdoch, " flying to the _Philistine, _ as heentered with the real cough-tincture, "I've given Sir Sampson a dose ofmy own stomach lotion by mistake, and I am terrified for theconsequences!"

"Oo, but hur need na be feared, hur will no be a hair the war o't; forhurs wad na tak' the feesick that the leddie ordered hur yestreen. "

"Well, I declare things are wisely ordered, " observed Miss Grizzy; "inthat case it may do dear Sir Sampson a great deal of good. "

Just as this pleasing idea was suggested, Douglas and his fatherentered, and the ceremony of presenting her nephew to her friend wasperformed by Miss Grizzy in her most conciliating manner. 

"Dear Lady Maclaughlan, this is our nephew Henry, who, I know, has thehighest veneration for Sir Sampson and you. Henry, I assure you, LadyMaclaughlan takes the greatest interest in everything that concerns LadyJuliana and you. "

"Humph!" rejoined her ladyship, as she surveyed him from head to foot. "So your wife fell in love with you, it seems; well, the more fool she;I never knew any good come of love marriages. "

Douglas coloured, while he affected to laugh at this extraordinaryaddress, and withdrawing himself from her scrutiny, resumed his stationby the side of his Juliana. 

"Now, girls, I must go to my toilet; which of you am I to have for myhandmaid?"

"Oh, we'll all go, " eagerly exclaimed the three nymphs; "our dear niecewill excuse us for a little; young people are never at a loss to amuseone another. "

"Venus and the Graces, by Jove!" exclaimed Sir Sampson, bowing with anair of gallantry; "and now I must go and adonise a little myself. "

The company then separated to perform the important offices of thetoilet. 

CHAPTER X. 

 "Nature here Wanton'd as in her prime, and played at will Her virgin fancies. "

 MILTON. 

THE gentlemen were already assembled round the drawing-room fire, impatiently waiting the hour of dinner, when Lady Maclaughlan and herthree friends entered. The masculine habiliments of the morning had beenexchanged for a more feminine costume. She was now arrayed in apompadour satin _négligée, _ and petticoat trimmed with Brussels lace. Ahigh starched handkerchief formed a complete breast work, on which, amida large bouquet of truly artificial roses, reposed a miniature of SirSampson, _à la militaire_. A small fly cap of antique lace was scarcelyperceptible on the summit of a stupendous frizzled toupee, hemmed in oneach side by large curls. The muff and stick had been relinquished for alarge fan, something resembling an Indian screen, which she waved to andfro in one hand, while a vast brocaded workbag was suspended from theother. 

"So, Major Douglas, your servant, " said she, in answer to theconstrained formal bow with which he saluted her on her entrance. "Why, it's so long since I've seen you that you may be a grandfather for oughtI know. "

The poor awkward Misses at that moment came sneaking into the room:"As for you, girls, you'll never be grandmothers; you'll never bemarried, unless to wild men of the woods. I suppose you'd like that; itwould save you the trouble of combing your hair, and tying your shoes, for then you could go without clothes altogether--humph! You'd be muchbetter without clothes than to put them on as you do, " seizing upon theluckless Miss Baby, as she endeavoured to steal behind backs. 

And here, in justice to the lady, it must be owned that, for once, she had some grounds for animadversion in the dress and appearance ofthe Misses Douglas. 

They had stayed out, running races and riding on a pony, until near thedinner hour; and, dreading their father's displeasure should they be toolate, they had, with the utmost haste, exchanged their thick morningdresses for thin muslin gowns, made by a mantua-maker of theneighbourhood in the extreme of a two-year-old fashion, when waists_were not. _

But as dame Nature had been particularly lavish in the length of theirs, and the stay-maker had, according to their aunt's direction, given them_full measure_ of their new dark stays, there existed a visible breachbetween the waists of their gowns and the bands of their petticoats, which they had vainly sought to adjust by a meeting. Their hair had beencurled, but not combed, and dark gloves had been hastily drawn on tohide red arms. 

"I suppose, " continued the stern Lady Maclaughlan, as she twirled hervictim round and round; "I suppose you think yourself vastly smart andwell dressed. Yes, you are very neat, very neat indeed; one wouldsuppose Ben Jonson had you in his eye when he composed that song. " Thenin a voice like thunder, she chanted forth--

 "Give me a look, give me a face That makes simplicity a grace; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free, Such sweet neglect more taketh me. "

Miss Grizzy was in the utmost perplexity between her inclination to urgesomething in extenuation for the poor girls, and her fear of dissentingfrom Lady Maclaughlan, or rather of not immediately agreeing with her;she therefore steered, as usual, the middle course, and kept saying, "Well, children, really what Lady Maclaughlan says is all very true; atthe same time"--turning to her friend--"I declare it's not much to bewondered at; young people are so thoughtless, poor lambs!"

"What's aw this wark aboo?" said the old gentleman angrily; "the girliesare weel eneugh; I see naething the matter wi' them; they're no dresselike auld queens or stage-actresses;" and he glance his eye from LadyMaclaughlan to his elegant daughter-in-law, who just then entered, hanging, according to custom, on her husband, and preceded by Cupid. 

Mrs Douglas followed, and the sound of the dinner bell put a stop to thedispute. 

"Come, my leddie, we'll see how the dinner's dressed, " said the Laird, as he seized Lady Maclaughlan by the tip of the finger, and holding itup aloft, they marched into the dining room. 

"Permit me, my Lady Juliana Douglas, " said the little Baronet, with muchdifficulty hobbling towards her, and attempting to take her hand. "Come, Harry, love; here, Cupid, " cried she; and without noticing the enragedSir Sampson, she passed on, humming a tune, and leaning upon herhusband. 

"Astonishing! perfectly astonishing!" exclaimed the Baronet; "how ayoung woman of Lady Juliana's rank and fashion should be guilty of sucha solecism in good breeding. "

"She is very young, " said Mrs. Douglas, smiling, as he limped along withher, "and you must make allowances for her; but, indeed, I think herbeauty must ever be a sufficient excuse for any little errors she maycommit with a person of such taste and gallantry as Sir SampsonMaclaughlan. "

The little Baronet smiled, pressed the hand he held; and, soothed by thewell-timed compliment, he seated himself next to Lady Juliana with somecomplacency. As she insisted on having her husband on the other side ofher, Mr. Douglas was condemned to take his station by the hated LadyMaclaughlan, who, for the first time observing Mrs. Douglas, called toher--

"Come here, my love; I haven't seen you these hundred years;" thenseizing her face between her hands, she saluted her in the usual style. "There, " at length releasing Mrs Douglas from her gripe--"there's foryou! I love you very much; you're neither a fool nor a hoyden; you're afine intelligent being. "

Having carefully rolled up and deposited her gloves in her pocket, shepulled out a pin-cushion, and calling Miss Bella, desired her to pin hernapkin over her shoulders; which done, she began to devour her soup insilence. 

Peace was, however, of short duration. Old Donald, in removing a dishof whipt cream, unfortunately overturned one upon Lady Maclaughlan'spompadour satin petticoat--the only part of her dress that wasunprotected. 

"Do you see what you have done, you old Donald, you?" cried she, seizingthe culprit by the sleeve; "why, you've got St. Vitus's dance. A fithand to carry whipt cream, to be sure! Why, I could as well carry acustard on the point of a bayonet--humph!"

"Dear me, Donald, how could you be so senseless?" cried Miss Jacky. 

"Preserve me, Donald, I thought you had more sense!"squeaked Miss Nicky. 

"I am sure, Donald, that was na like you!" said Miss Grizzy, as thefriends all flocked around the petticoat, each suggesting a differentremedy. 

"It's all of you, girls, that his has happened. Why can't you have alarger tablecloth upon your table! And that old man has the palsy. Whydon't you electrify him?' in a tone admirably calculated to have thateffect. 

"I declare, it's all very true, " observed Miss Grizzy; "the tablecloth_is_ very small, and Donald certainly _does_ shake, that cannot bedenied;" but, lowering her voice, "he is so obstinate, we really don'tknow what to do with him. My sisters and I attempted to use theflesh-brush with him. "

"Oh, and an excellent thing it is; I make Philistine rub Sir Sampsonevery morning and night. If it was not for that and his cough, nobodywould know whether he were dead or alive; I don't believe he would knowhimself--humph!"

Sir Sampson's lemon face assumed an orange hue as he overheard thisdomestic detail; but not daring to contradict the facts, he prudentlyturned a deaf ear to them, and attempted to carryon a flirtation withLady Juliana through the medium of Cupid, whom he had coaxed upon hisknee. 

Dinner being at length ended, toasts succeeded: and each of the ladieshaving given her favourite laird, the signal of retreat was given, and ageneral movement took place. 

Lady Juliana, throwing herself upon a sofa with her pugs, called Mrs. Douglas to her. "Do sit down here and talk with me, " yawned she. 

Her sister-in-law, with great good-humour, fetched her work, and seatedherself by the spoilt child. 

"What strange thing is that you are making?" asked she, as Mrs. Douglaspulled out her knitting. 

"It's a child's stocking, " replied her sister-in-law. 

"A child's stocking! Oh, by-the-bye, have you a great many children?"

"I have none, " answered Mrs. Douglas, with a half-stifled sigh. 

"None at all?" repeated Lady Juliana, with surprise "then, why do youmake children's stockings?"

"I make them for those whose parents cannot afford to purchase them. "

"La! what poor wretches they must be, that can't afford to buystockings, " rejoined Lady Juliana, with a yawn. "It's monstrous good ofyou to make them, to be sure; but it must be a shocking bore! and such atrouble!" and another long yawn succeeded. 

"Not half such a bore to me as to sit idle, " returned Mrs. Douglas, witha smile, "nor near so much trouble as you undergo with your favourites. "

Lady Juliana made no reply, but turning from her sister-in-law, soonwas, or affected to be, sound a sleep, from which she was only roused bythe entrance of the gentlemen. "A rubber or a reel, my Leddie?" asked theLaird, going up to his daughter-in-law. 

"Julia, love, " said her husband, "my father asks you if you choosecards or dancing. "

"There's nobody to dance with, " said she, casting a languid glancearound; "I'll play at cards. "

"Not whist, surely!" said Henry. 

"Whist! Oh, heavens, no. "

"Weel, weel, you youngsters will get a roundgame; come, my LeddyMaclaughlan, Grizzy, Mrs. Douglas, hey for the odd trick and thehonours!"

"What would your Ladyship choose to play at?' asked Miss Jacky, advancing with a pack of cards in one hand, and a box of counters in theother. 

"Oh, anything; I like 100 very well, or quadrille, or--1 really don'tcare what. "

The Misses, who had gathered round, and were standing gaping in joyfulexpectation of Pope Joan, or a pool at commerce, here exchangedsorrowful glances. 

"I am afraid the young people don't play these games, " replied MissJacky; "but we've counters enough, " shaking her little box, "for PopeJoan, and we all know that. "

"Pope Joan! I never heard of such a game, " replied Lady Juliana. 

"Oh, we can soon learn you, " said Miss Nicky, who having spread thegreen cloth on the tea-table, now advanced to join the consultation. 

"I hate to be taught, " said Lady Juliana, with a yawn; "besides, I amsure it must be something very stupid. "

"Ask if she plays commerce, " whispered Miss Bella to Miss Baby. 

The question was put, but with no better success, and the young ladies'faces again bespoke their disappointment, which their brother observing, he good-naturedly declared his perfect knowledge of commerce; "and I mustinsist upon teaching you, Juliana, " gently dragging her to the table. 

"What's the pool to be?" asked one of the young ladies. 

"I'm sure I don't know, " said the aunts, looking to each other. 

"I suppose we must make it sixpence, " said Miss Jacky, after awhispering consultation with her sister. 

"In that case we can afford nothing to the best hand, " observed MissNicky. 

"And we ought to have five lives and grace, " added one of the nieces. 

These points having been conceded, the preliminaries were at lengthsettled. The cards were slowly _doled_ out by Miss Jacky; and LadyJuliana was carefully instructed in the rules of the game, and stronglyrecommended always to try for a sequence, or pairs, etc. "And if youwin, " rejoined Miss Nicky, shaking the snuffer-stand in which weredeposited the sixpences, "you get all this. "

As may be conjectured, Lady Juliana's patience could not survive morethan one life; she had no notion of playing for sixpences, and could notbe at the trouble to attend to any instructions; she therefore quicklyretired in disgust, leaving the aunts and nieces to struggle for theglorious prize. "My dear child, you played that last stroke like aperfect natural, " cried Lady Maclaughlan to Miss Grizzy, as the rubberended, they arose from the table. 

"Indeed, I declare, I daresay I did, " replied her friend in adeprecating tone. 

"Daresay you did! I know you did-humph! I knew the ace lay with you; Iknew that as well as if I had seen it. I suppose you have eyes--but Idon't know; if you have, didn't you see Glenfern turn up the king, andyet you returned his lead--returned our adversary's lead in the face ofhis king. I've been telling you these twenty years not to return youradversary's lead; nothing can be more despicable; nothing can be agreater proof of imbecility of mind--humph!" Then, seating herself, shebegan to exercise her fan with considerable activity. "This has been themost disagreeable day I ever spent in this house, girls. I don't knowwhat's come over you, but you are all wrong; my petticoat's ruined; mypockets picked at cards. It won't do, girls; it won't do--humph!"

"I am sure I can't understand it, " said Miss Grizzy in a ruefulaccent; "there really appears to have been some fatality. "

"Fatality!--humph! I wish you would give everything its right name. What do you mean by fatality?"

"I declare--I am sure--I--I really don't know, " stammered theunfortunate Grizzy. 

"Do you mean that the spilling of the custard was the work of an angel?"demanded her unrelenting friend. 

"Oh, certainly not. "

"Or that it was the devil tempted you to throw away your ace there? Isuppose there's a fatality in our going to supper just now, " continuedshe, as her deep-toned voice resounded through the passage thatconducted to the dining-room; "and I suppose it will be called afatality if that old Fate, " pointing to Donald, "scalds me to death withthat mess of porridge he's going to put on the table--humph!"

No such fatality, however, occurred; and the rest of the evening passedoff in as much harmony as could be expected from the very heterogeneousparts of which the society was formed. 

The family group had already assembled round the breakfast-table, withthe exception of Lady Juliana, who chose to take that meal in bed; but, contrary to her usual custom, no Lady Maclaughlan had yet made herappearance. 

"The scones will be like leather, " said Miss Grizzy, as she wrappedanother napkin round them. 

"The eggs will be like snowballs, " cried Miss Jacky, popping them intothe slop-basin. 

"The tea will be like brandy, " observed Miss Nicky, as she poured morewater to the three teaspoonfuls she had infused. 

"I wish we saw our breakfast, " said the Laird, as he finished thenewspapers, and deposited his spectacles in his pocket. 

At that moment the door opened, and the person in question entered inher travelling dress, followed by Sir Sampson, Philistine bringing upthe rear with a large green bag and a little band-box. 

"I hope your bed was warm and comfortable. I hope you rested well. Ihope Sir Sampson's quite well!" immediately burst as if from a thousandvoices, while the sisters officiously fluttered round their friend. 

"I rested very ill; my bed was very uncomfortable; and Sir Sampson's assick as a cat--humph!"

Three disconsolate "Bless me's!" here burst forth. 

"Perhaps your bed was too hard?" said Miss Grizzy. 

"Or too soft?" suggested Miss Jacky. 

"Or too hot?" added Miss Nicky. 

"It was neither too hard, nor too soft, nor too hot, nor too cold, "thundered the Lady, as she seated herself at the table; "but it was allof them. "

"I declare, that's most distressing, " said Miss Grizzy, in a tone ofsorrowful amazement. "Was your head high enough, dear Lady Maclaughlan?"

"Perhaps it was too high, " said Miss Jacky. 

"I know nothing more disagreeable than a high head, " remarked MissNicky. 

"Except a fool's head--humph!"

The sound of a carriage here set all ears on full stretch, and presentlythe well-known pea-green drew up. 

"Dear me! Bless me! Goodness me!" shrieked the three ladies at once. "Surely, Lady Maclaughlan, you can't--you don't--you won't; this must bea mistake. "

"There's no mistake in the matter, girls, " replied their friend, withher accustomed _sang froid. _ "I'm going home; so I ordered the carriage;that's all--humph!"

"Going home!" faintly murmured the disconsolate spinsters. 

"What! I suppose you think I ought to stay here and have anotherpetticoat spoiled; or lose another half-crown at cards; or have thefinishing stroke put to Sir Sampson--humph!"

"Oh! Lady Maclaughlan!" was three times uttered in reproachfulaccents. 

"I don't know what else I should stay for; you are not yourselves, girls; you've all turned topsy-turvy. I've visited here these twentyyears, and I never saw things in the state they are now--humph!"

"I declare it's very true, " sighed Miss Grizzy; "we certainly are alittle in confusion, that can't be denied. "

"Denied! Why, can you deny that my petticoat's ruined?" Can you denythat my pocket was picked of half-a-crown for nothing? Can you deny thatSir Sampson has been half-poisoned? And---"

"My Lady Maclaughlan, " interrupted the enraged husband, "I--I--I amsurprised--I am shocked! Zounds, my Lady, I won't suffer this! I cannotstand it;" and pushing his tea-cup away, he arose, and limped to thewindow. Philistine here entered to inform his mistress that "awthing wasready. " "Steady, boys, steady! I always am ready, " responded the Lady ina tone adapted to the song. "Now I am ready; say nothing, girls--youknow my rules. Here, Philistine, wrap up Sir Sampson, and put him in. Get along, my love. Good-bye, girls; and I hope you will all be restoredto your right senses soon. "

"Oh, Lady Maclaughlan!" whined the weeping Grizzy, as she embraced herfriend, who, somewhat melted at the signs of her distress, bawled outfrom the carriage, as the door was shut, "Well, God bless you, girls, andmake you what you have been; and come to Lochmarlie Castle soon, andbring your wits along with you. "

The carriage then drove off, and the three disconsolate sisters returnedto the parlour to hold a cabinet council as to the causes of the latedisasters. 

CHAPTER XI. 

 "If there be cure or charm To respite or relieve, or slack the pain Of this ill mansion. "

 MILTON. 

TIME, which generally alleviates ordinary distresses, served only toaugment the severity of Lady Juliana's, as day after day rolled heavilyon, and found her still an inmate of Glenfern Castle. Destitute of veryresource in herself, she yet turned with contempt from the scantysources of occupation or amusement that were suggested by others; andMrs. Douglas's attempts to teach her to play at chess and readShakespeare were as unsuccessful as the endeavours of the good aunts topersuade her to study Fordyce's Sermons and make baby linen. 

In languid dejection or fretful repinings did the unhappy beautytherefore consume the tedious hours, while her husband soughtalternately to soothe with fondness he no longer felt, or flatter withhopes which he knew to be groundless. To his father alone could he nowlook for any assistance, and from him he was not likely to obtain it inthe form he desired; as the old gentleman repeatedly declared his utterinability to advance him any ready money, or to allow him more thana hundred a year--moreover, to be paid quarterly--a sum which couldnot defray their expenses to London. 

Such was the state of affairs when the Laird one morning entered thedining-room with a face of much importance, and addressed his son with, "Weel, Harry, you're a lucky man; and it's an ill wind that blawsnaebody gude: here's puir Macglashan gane like snaw aff a dyke. "

"Macglashan gone!" exclaimed Miss Grizzy. "Impossible, brother; it wasonly yesterday I sent him a blister for his back!"

"And I, " said Miss Jacky, "talked to him for upwards of two hours lastnight on the impropriety of his allowing his daughter to wear whitegowns on Sunday. "

"By my troth, an' that was eneugh to kill ony man, " muttered the Laird. 

"How I am to derive any benefit from this importantdemise is more than I can perceive, " said Henry in a somewhatcontemptuous tone. 

"You see, " replied his father, "that by our agreement his farm fallsvacant in consequence. "

"And I hope I am to succeed to it!" replied the son, with a smile ofderision. 

"Exactly! By my faith, but you have a be in downset. There's threethousand and seventy-five acres of as good sheep walk as any in thewhole country-side; and I shall advance you stocking and stedding, andeverything complete, to your very peatstacks. What think ye of that?"slapping his son's shoulder, and rubbing his own hands with delight ashe spoke. 

Horrorstruck at a scheme which appeared to him a thousand times worsethan anything his imagination had ever painted, poor Henry stood inspeechless consternation; while "Charming! Excellent! Delightful!" wasechoed by the aunts, as they crowded round, wishing him joy, andapplauding their brother's generosity. 

"What will our sweet niece say to this, I wonder?" said the innocentGrizzy, who in truth wondered none. "I would like to see her face whenshe hears it;" and her own was puckered into various shapes of delight. 

"I have no doubt but her good sense will teach her to appreciateproperly the blessings of her lot, " observed the more reflecting Jacky. 

"She has had her own good luck, " quoth the sententious Nicky, "to findsuch a down set all cut and dry. "

At that instant the door opened, and the favoured individual in questionentered. In vain Douglas strove to impose silence on his father andaunts. The latter sat, bursting with impatience to break out intoexclamation, while the former, advancing to his fair daughter-in-law, saluted her as "Lady Clackandow?" Then the torrent burst forth, and, stupefied with surprise, Lady Juliana suffered herself to be kissed andhugged by the whole host of aunts and nieces, while the very wallsseemed to reverberate the shouts, and the pugs and mackaw, who neverfailed to take part in every commotion, began to bark and scream inchorus. 

The old gentleman, clapping his hands to his ears, rushed out of theroom. His son, cursing his aunts, and everything around him, kickedCupid, and gave the mackaw a box on the ear, as he also quitted theapartment, with more appearance of anger than he had ever yet betrayed. 

The tumult at length began to subside. The mackaw's screams gave placeto a low quivering croak; and the insulted pug's yells yielded to agentle whine. The aunts' obstreperous joy began to be chastened withfear for the consequences that might follow an abrupt disclosure; and, while Lady Juliana condoled with her favourites, it was concertedbetween the prudent aunts that the joyful news should be broke to theirniece in the most cautious manner possible. For that purpose MissesGrizzy and Jacky seated themselves on each side of her; and, after dulypreparing their voices by sundry small hems, Miss Grizzy thus began:

"I'm sure-I declare-I dare say, my dear Lady Juliana, you must thinkwe are all distracted. "

Her auditor made no attempt to contradict the supposition. 

"We certainly ought, to be sure, to have been more cautious, consideringyour delicate situation; but the joy--though, indeed, it seems cruel tosay so. And I am sure you will sympathise, my dear niece, in the cause, when you hear that it is occasioned by your poor neighbour Macglashan'sdeath, which, I'm sure, was quite unexpected. Indeed, I declare I can'tconceive how it came about; for Lady Maclaughlan, who is an excellentjudge of these things, thought he was really a remarkably stout-lookingman for his time of life; and indeed, except occasional colds, which youknow we are all subject to, I really never knew him complain. At thesame time--"

"I don't think, sister, you are taking the right method of communicatingthe intelligence to our niece, " said Miss Jacky. 

"You cannot communicate anything that would give me the least pleasure, unless you could tell me that I was going to leave this place, " criedLady Juliana in a voice of deep despondency. 

"Indeed! if it can afford your Ladyship so much pleasure to be atliberty to quit the hospitable mansion of your amiable husband'srespectable father, " said Miss Jacky, with an inflamed visage andoutspread hands, "you are at perfect liberty to depart when you thinkproper. The generosity, I may say the munificence, of my excellentbrother, has now put it in your power to do as you please, and to formyour own plans. "

"Oh, delightful!" exclaimed Lady Juliana, starting up; "now I shall bequite happy. Where's Harry! Does he know? Is he gone to order thecarriage! Can we get away to-day?" And she was flying out of the roomwhen Miss Jacky caught her by one hand, while Miss Grizzy secured theother. 

"Oh, pray don't detain me! I must find Harry; and I have all my thingsto put up, " struggling to release herself from the gripe of the sisters;when the door opened, and Harry entered, eager, yet dreading to know theeffects of the _éclaircissernent. _ His surprise extreme atbeholding his wife, with her eyes sparkling, her cheeks glowing, and herwhole countenance expressing extreme pleasure. Darting from her keepers, she bounded towards him with the wildest ejaculations of delight; whilehe stood alternately gazing at her and his aunts, seeking by his eyesthe explanation he feared to demand. 

"My dearest Juliana, what is the meaning of all this?" he at lengtharticulated. 

"Oh, you cunning thing! So you think I don't know that your father hasgiven you a great, great quantity of money, and that we may go awaywhenever we please, and do just as we like, and live in London, and--and--oh, delightful!" And she bounded and skipped before the eyesof the petrified spinsters. 

"In the name of heaven, what does all this mean?" asked Henry, addressing his aunts, who, for the first time in their lives, werestruck dumb by astonishment. But Miss Jacky, at length recollectingherself, turned to Lady Juliana, who was still testifying her delight bya variety of childish but graceful movements, and thus addressed her:

"Permit me to put a few questions to your Ladyship, in presence of thosewho were witnesses of what has already passed. "

"Oh, I can't endure to be asked questions; besides, I have no time toanswer them. "

"Your Ladyship must excuse me; But I can't permit you to leave thisroom under the influence of an error. Have the goodness to answer me thefollowing questions, and you will then be at liberty to depart. Did Iinform your Ladyship that my brother had given my nephew a greatquantity of money?"

"Oh yes! a great, great deal; I don't know how much, though--"

"Did I?" returned her interrogator. 

"Come, come, have done with all this confounded nonsense!" exclaimedHenry passionately. "Do you imagine I will allow Lady Juliana to standhere all day, to answer all the absurd questions that come into theheads of three old women? You stupefy and bewilder her with your eternaltattling and roundabout harangues. " And he paced the room in a paroxysmof rage, while his wife suspended her dancing, and stood in breathlessamazement. 

"I declare--I'm sure--it's a thousand pities that there should have beenany mistake made, " whined poor Miss Grizzy. 

"The only remedy is to explain the matter quickly, " observed Miss Nicky;"better late than never. "

"I have done, " said Miss Jacky, seating herself with much dignity. 

"The short and the long of it is this, " said Miss Nicky, "My brother hasnot made Henry a present of money. I assure you money is not so rife;but he has done what is much better for you both, --he has made over tohim that fine thriving farm of poor Macglashan's. "

"No money!" repeated Lady Juliana in a disconsolate tone: then quicklybrightening up, "It would have been better, to be sure, to have had themoney directly; but you know we can easily sell the estate. How longwill it take?--a week?"

"Sell Clackandow!" exclaimed the three horrorstruck daughters of thehouse of Douglas. "Sell Clackandow! Oh! oh! oh!"

"What else could we do with it?" inquired her Ladyship. 

"Live at it, to be sure, " cried all three. 

"Live at it!" repeated she, with a shriek of horror that vied with thatof the spinsters--"Live at it! Live on a thriving farm! Live all mylife in such a place as this! Oh! the very thought is enough to killme!"

"There is no occasion to think or say any more about it, " interruptedHenry in a calmer tone; and, glancing round on his aunts, "I thereforedesire no more may be said on the subject. "

"And is this really all? And have you got no money? And are we notgoing away?" gasped the disappointed Lady Juliana, as she gave way to aviolent burst of tears, that terminated in a fit of hysterics; at sightof which, the good spinsters entirely forgot their wrath; and while oneburnt feathers under her nose, and another held her hands, a thirddrenched her in floods of Lady Maclaughlan'shysteric water. After goingthrough the regular routine, the lady's paroxysm subsided; and beingcarried to bed, she soon sobbed herself into a feverish slumber; inwhich state the harassed husband left her to attend a summons fromhis father. 

CHAPTER XII. 

 "See what delight in sylvan scenes appear!"

 Pope. 

 "Haply this life is best, Sweetest to you, well corresponding With your stiff age; but unto us it is A cell of ignorance, a prison for a debtor. "

 _Cymbeline. _

HE found the old gentleman in no very complaisant humour, from thedisturbances that had taken place, but the chief cause of which he wasstill in ignorance of. He therefore accosted his son with:

"What was the meaning o' aw that skirling and squeeling I heard a whileago? By my faith, there's nae bearing this din! Thae beasts o' yourwife's are eneugh to drive a body oot o' their judgment. But she maungi'e up thae maggots when she becomes a farmer's wife. She maun getstirks and stots to mak' pets o', if she maun ha'e _four-fitted_favourites; but, to my mind, it wad set her better to be carrying awiselike wean in her arms, than trailing aboot wi' thae confoonded dougsan' paurits. "

Henry coloured, bit his lips, but made no reply to this elegant addressof his father's, who continued, "I sent for you, sir, to have someconversation about this farm of Macglashan's; so sit down there till Ishow you the plans. "

Hardly conscious of what he was doing, poor Henry gazed in silentconfusion, as his father pointed out the various properties of this hisfuture possession. Wholly occupied in debating within himself how he wasto decline the offer without a downright quarrel, he heard, withoutunderstanding a word, all the old gentleman's plans and proposals forbuilding dikes, draining moss, etc. ; and, perfectly unconscious of whathe was doing, yielded a ready assent to all the improvements that weresuggested. 

"Then as for the hoose and offices, -let me see, " continued the Laird, ashe rolled up the plans of the farm, and pulled forth that of thedwelling-house from a bundle of papers. "Ay, here it is. By my troth, ye'll be weel lodged here. The hoose is in a manner quite new, for ithas never had a brush upon it yet. And there's a byre--fient a bit, if Iwould mean the best man i' the country to sleep there himsel. '"

A pause followed, during which Glenfern was busily employed in poringover his parchment; then taking off his spectacles, and surveying hisson, "And now, sir, that you've heard a' the oots an' ins o' thebusiness, what think you your farm should bring you at the year's end?"

"I--I--I'm sure--I--I don't know, " stammered poor Henry, awakeningfrom his reverie. 

"Come, come, gi'e a guess. "

"I really--I cannot--I haven't the least idea. "

"I desire, sir, ye'll say something directly, that I may judge whetheror no ye ha'e common sense, " cried the old gentleman angrily. 

"I should suppose-I imagine-I don't suppose it will exceed seven oreight hundred a year, " said his son, in the greatest trepidation at thistrial of his intellect. 

"Seven or eight hunder deevils!" cried the incensed Laird, starting upand pushing his papers from him. "By my faith, I believe ye're a bornidiot! Seven or eight hunder pounds!" repeated he, at least a dozentimes, as he whisked up and down the little apartment with extraordinaryvelocity, while poor Henry affected to be busily employed in gatheringup the parchments with which the floor was strewed. 

"I'll tell you what, sir, " continued he, stopping; "you're no fit tomanage a farm; you're as ignorant as yon coo, an' as senseless as itscauf. Wi' gude management, Clackandow should produce you twahunder andodd pounds yearly; but in your guiding I doot if it will yield the half. However, tak' it or want it, mind me, sir, that it's a' ye ha'e to trustto in my lifetime; so ye may mak' the maist o't. "

Various and painful were the emotions that struggled in Henry's breastat this declaration. Shame, regret, indignation, all burned within him;but the fear he entertained of his father, and the consciousness of hisabsolute dependence, chained his tongue, while the bitter emotions thatagitated him painted themselves legibly in his countenance. His fatherobserved his agitation; and, mistaking the cause, felt somewhat softenedat what he conceived his son's shame and penitence for his folly. Hetherefore extended his hand towards him, saying, "Weel, weel, naemairaboot it; Clackandow's yours, as soon as I can put you inpossession. In the meantime, stay still here, and welcome. "

"I--am much obliged to you for the offer, sir; I--feel very grateful foryour kindness, " at length articulated his son; "but--I--am, as youobserve, so perfectly ignorant of country matters, that I--I--in short, I am afraid I should make a bad hand of the business. "

"Nae doot, nae doot ye would, if ye was left to your ain discretion;but ye'll get mair sense, and I shall put ye upon a method, and provideye wi' a grieve; an' if you are active, and your wife managing, there'snae fear o' you. "

"But Lady Juliana, sir, has never been accustomed--"

"Let her serve an apprenticeship to your aunts; she couldna be in abetter school. "

"But her education, sir, has been so different from what would berequired in that station, " resumed her husband, choking with vexation, at the idea of his beauteous high-born bride being doomed to thedrudgery of household cares. 

"Edication! what has her edication been, to mak' her different fraeother women? If a woman can nurse her bairns, mak' their claes, andmanage her hoose, what mair need she do? If she can playa tune on thespinnet, and dance a reel, and play a rubber at whist--nae doot theseare accomplishments, but they're soon learnt. Edication! pooh!--I'll bebound Leddy Jully Anie wull mak' as gude a figure by-and-by as the bestedicated woman in the country. "

"But she dislikes the country, and--"

"She'll soon come to like it. Wait a wee till she has a wheen bairns, an' a hoose o' her ain, an' I'll be bound she'll be happy as the day'slang. "

"But the climate does not agree with her, " continued the tender husband, almost driven to extremities by the persevering simplicity of hisfather. 

"Stay a wee till she gets to Clackandow! There's no a finer, freer-airedsituation in a' Scotland. The air's sharpish, to be sure, but fine andbracing; and you have a braw peat-moss at your back to keep you warm. "

Finding it in vain to attempt _insinuating_ his objections to a pastorallife, poor Henry was at length reduced to the necessity of coming to thepoint with the old gentleman, and telling him plainly that it was not atall suited to his inclinations, or Lady Juliana's rank and beauty. 

Vain would be the attempt to paint the fiery wrath and indignation ofthe ancient Highlander as the naked truth stood revealed beforehim:--that his son despised the occupation of his fathers, even thefeeding of sheep and the breeding of black cattle; and that hishigh-born spouse was above fulfilling those duties which he had everconsidered the chief end for which woman was created. He swore, stamped, screamed, and even skipped with rage, and, in short, went through allthe evolutions as usually performed by testy old gentlemen on firstdiscovering that they have disobedient sons and undutiful daughters. Henry, who, though uncommonly good-tempered, inherited a portion of hisfather's warmth, became at length irritated at the invectives that wereso liberally bestowed on him, and replied in language less respectfulthan the old Laird was accustomed to hear; and the altercation became soviolent that they parted in mutual anger; Henry returning to his wife'sapartment in a state of the greatest disquietude he had ever known. Toher childish complaints, and tiresome complaints, he no longervouchsafed to reply, but paced the chamber with a disordered mien, insullen silence; till at length, distracted by her reproaches, anddisgusted with her selfishness, he rushed from the apartment and quittedthe house. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

 "Never talk to me; I will weep. "

 _As You Like It. _

TWICE had the dinner bell been loudly sounded by old Donald, and thefamily of Glenfern were all assembled, yet their fashionable guests hadnot appeared. Impatient of delay, Miss Jacky hastened to ascertain thecause. Presently she returned in the utmost perturbation, and announcedthat Lady Juliana was in bed in a high fever, and Henry nowhere to befound. The whole eight rushed upstairs to ascertain the fact, leavingthe old gentleman much discomposed at this unseasonable delay. 

Some time elapsed ere they again returned, which they did withlengthened faces, and in extreme perturbation. They had found theirnoble niece, according to Miss Jacky's report, in bed-according to MissGrizzy's opinion, in a brain fever; as she no sooner perceived thementer, than she covered her head with the bedclothes, and continuedscreaming for them to be gone, till they had actually quitted theapartment. "

"And what proves beyond a doubt that our sweet niece is not herself, "continued poor Miss Grizzy, in a lamentable tone, "is that we appearedto her in every form but our own! She sometimes took us for cats; thenthought we were ghosts haunting her; and, in short, it is impossible totell all the things she called us; and she screams so for Harry to comeand take her away that I am sure--I declare--I don't know what's comeover her!"

Mrs. Douglas could scarce suppress a smile at the simplicity of the goodspinsters. Her husband and she had gone out immediately after breakfastto pay a visit a few miles off, and did not return till near the dinnerhour. They were therefore ignorant of all that had been acted duringtheir absence; but as she suspected something was amiss, she requestedthe rest of the company would proceed to dinner, and leave her toascertain the nature of Lady Juliana's disorder. 

"Don't come near me!" shrieked her Ladyship, on hearing the door open. "Send Harry to take me away; I don't want anybody but Harry!"--and atorrent of tears, sobs, and exclamations followed. 

"My dear Lady Juliana, " said Mrs. Douglas, softly approaching the bed, "compose yourself; and if my presence is disagreeable to you I shallimmediately withdraw. "

"Oh, is it you?" cried her sister-in-law, uncovering her face at thesound of her voice. "I thought it had been these frightful old womencome to torment me; and I shall die--I know I shall--if ever I look atthem again. But I don't dislike _you;_ so you may stay if you choose, though I don't want anybody but Harry to come and take me away. "

A fresh fit of sobbing here impeded her utterance; and Mrs. Douglas, compassionating her distress, while she despised her folly, seatedherself by the bedside, and taking her hand, in the sweetest tone ofcomplacency attempted to soothe her into composure. 

"The only way in which you can be less miserable, " said Mrs. Douglas ina soothing tone, "is to support your present situation with patience, which you may do by looking forward to brighter prospects. It is_possible_ that your stay here may be short; and it is _certain_ that itis in your own power to render your life more agreeable by endeavouringto accommodate yourself to the peculiarities of your husband's family. No doubt they are often tiresome and ridiculous; but they are alwayskind and well-meaning. "

"You may say what you please, but I think them all odious creatures;and I won't live here with patience; and I shan't be agreeable to them;and all the talking in the world won't make me less miserable. If youwere me, you would be just the same; but you have never been inLondon--that's the reason. "

"Pardon me, " replied her sister-in-law, "I spent many years of my lifethere. "

"You lived in London!" repeated Lady Juliana in astonishment. "And how, then, can you contrive to exist here?"

"I not only contrive to exist, but to be extremely contented withexistence, " said Mrs. Douglas, with a smile. Then assuming a moreserious air, "I possess health, peace of mind, and the affections of aworthy husband; and I should be very undeserving of these blessings wereI to give way to useless regrets or indulge in impious repinings becausemy happiness might once have been more perfect, and still admits ofimprovement. "

"I don't understand you, " said Lady Juliana, with a peevish yawn. "Whodid you live with in London?"

"With my aunt, Lady Audley. "

"With Lady Audley!" repeated her sister-in-law in accents ofastonishment. "Why, I have heard of her; she lived quite in the world;and gave balls and assemblies; so that's the reason you are not sodisagreeable as the rest of them. Why did you not remain with her, ormarry an Englishman? But I suppose, like me, you didn't know whatScotland was!"

Happy to have excited an interest, even through the medium of childishcuriosity, in the bosom of her fashionable relative, Mrs. Douglasbriefly related such circumstances of her past life as she judged properto communicate; but as she sought rather to amuse than instruct by hersimple narrative, we shall allow her to pursue her charitableintentions, while we do more justice to her character by introducing herregularly to the acquaintance of our readers. 

History of Mrs. Douglas. 

 "The selfish heart deserves the pang it feels; More generous sorrow, while it sinks, exalts, And conscious virtue mitigates the pang. "

 --YOUNG. 

MRS. DOUGLAS was, on the maternal side, related to an English family. Her mother had died in giving birth to her; and her father, shortlyafter, falling in the service of his country, she had been consigned ininfancy to the care of her aunt. Lady Audley had taken charge of her, oncondition that she should never be claimed by her Scottish relations, for whom that lady entertained as much aversion as contempt. A latentfeeling of affection for her departed sister, and a large portion offamily pride, had prompted her wish of becoming the protectress of herorphan niece; and, possessed of a high sense of rectitude and honour, she fulfilled the duty thus voluntarily imposed in a manner that securedthe unshaken gratitude of the virtuous Alicia. 

Lady Audley was a character more esteemed and feared than loved, even bythose with whom she was most intimate. Firm, upright, and rigid, sheexacted from others those inflexible virtues which in herself she foundno obstacle to performing. Neglecting these softer attractions whichshed their benign influence over the commerce of social life, she wascontent to enjoy the extorted esteem of her associates; for friends shehad none. She sought in the world for objects to fill up the void whichher heart could not supply. She loved _éclat, _ and had succeededin creating herself an existence of importance in the circles of highlife, which she considered more as due to her consequence than essentialto her enjoyment. She had early in life been left a widow, with the soletutelage and management of an only son, whose large estate she regulatedwith the most admirable prudence and judgment. 

Alicia Malcolm was put under the care of her aunt at two years of age. Agoverness had been procured for her, whose character was such as not toimpair the promising dispositions of her pupil. Alicia was gifted bynature with a warm affectionate heart, and a calm imagination attemperedits influence. Her governess, a woman of a strong understanding andenlarged mind, early instilled into her a deep and strong sense ofreligion; and to it she owed the support which had safely guided herthrough the most trying vicissitudes. 

When at the age of seventeen Alicia Malcolm was produced in the world. She was a rational, cheerful, and sweet-tempered girl, with a finelyformed person, and a countenance in which was so clearly painted thesunshine of her breast, that it attracted the _bienveillance_ even ofthose who had not taste or judgment to define the charm. Her opennatural manner, blending the frankness of the Scotch with the polishedreserve of the English woman, her total exemption from vanity, calculated alike to please others and maintain her own cheerfulnessundimmed by a single cloud. 

Lady Audley felt for her niece a sentiment which she mistook foraffection; her self-approbation was gratified at the contemplation of abeing who owed every advantage to her, and whom she had rescued from thecoarseness and vulgarity which she deemed inseparable from the mannersof every Scotchwoman. If Lady Audley really loved any human being it washer son. In him were centred her dearest interests; on hisaggrandisement and future importance hung her most sanguine hopes. Shehad acted contrary to the advice of her male relations, and followed herown judgment, by giving her son a private education. He was brought upunder her own eye by a tutor of deep erudition, but who was totallyunfitted for forming the mind, and compensating for those advantageswhich may be derived from a public education. The circumstances of hiseducation, however, combined rather to stifle the exposure than todestroy the existence of some very dangerous qualities that seemedinherent in Sir Edmund's nature. He was ardent, impetuous, andpassionate, though these propensities were cloaked by a reserve, partlynatural, and partly arising from of his mother and tutor. 

His was not the effervescence of character which bursts forth on everytrivial occasion; but when any powerful cause awakened the slumberinginmates, of his breast, they blazed with an uncontrolled fury thatdefied all opposition, and overleaped all bounds of reason and decorum. 

Experience often shows us that minds formed of the most oppositeattributes more forcibly attract each other than those which appear castin the same mould. The source of this fascination is difficult to trace;it possesses not reason for its basis, yet it is perhaps the moretyrannical in its influence from that very cause. The weakness of ournatures occasionally makes us feel a potent charm in "errors of a noblemind. "

Sir Edmund Audley and Alicia Malcolm proved examples of thisobservation. The affection of childhood had so gradually ripened into awarmer sentiment, that neither was conscious of the nature of thatsentiment till after it had attained strength to cast a materialinfluence on their after lives. The familiarity of near relativesassociating constantly together produced a warm sentiment of affection, cemented by similarity of pursuits, and enlivened by diversity ofcharacter; while the perfect tranquillity of their lives afforded noevent that could withdraw the veil of ignorance from their eyes. 

Could a woman of Lady Audley's discernment, it may be asked, placetwo young persons in such a situation, and doubt the consequences? Thosewho are no longer young are liable to forget that love is a plant ofearly growth, and that the individuals that they have but a short timebefore beheld placing their supreme felicity on a rattle and a go-cartcan so soon be actuated by the strongest passions of the humanbreast. 

Sir Edmund completed his nineteenth year, and Alicia entered hereighteenth, when this happy state of unconscious security was destroyedby a circumstance which rent the veil from her eyes, and disclosed hissentiments in all their energy and warmth. This circumstance was noother than a proposal of marriage to Alicia from a gentleman of largefortune and brilliant connexions who resided in their neighbourhood. Hischaracter was as little calculated as his appearance to engage theaffections of a young woman of delicacy and good sense. But he was a manof consequence; heir to an earldom; member for the county; and LadyAudley, rejoicing at what she termed Alicia's good fortune, determinedthat she should become his wife. 

With mild firmness she rejected the honour intended her; but it waswith difficulty that Lady Audley's mind could adopt or understand theidea of an opposition to her wishes. She could not seriously embrace theconviction that Alicia was determined to disobey her; and in order tobring her to a right understanding she underwent a system of persecutionthat tended naturally to increase the antipathy her suitor had inspired. Lady Audley, with the indiscriminating zeal of prejudiced andoverbearing persons, strove to recommend him to her niece br all thoseattributes which were of value in her own eyes; making allowance for acertain degree of in decision in her niece, but never admitting a doubtthat in due time her will should be obeyed, as it had always hitherto been. 

At this juncture Sir Edmund came down to the country, and was struck bythe altered looks and pensive manners of his once cheerful cousin. Abouta week after his arrival he found Alicia one morning in tears, after along conversation with Lady Audley. Sir Edmund tenderly soothed her, andentreated to be made acquainted with the cause of her distress. She wasso habituated to impart every thought to her cousin, the intimacy andsympathy of their souls were so entire, that she would not haveconcealed the late occurrence from him had she not been withheld by thenatural timidity and delicacy a young woman feels in making her ownconquests the subject of conversation. But now so pathetically andirresistibly persuaded by Sir Edmund, and sensible that every distressof hers wounded his heart, Alicia candidly related to him the pursuit ofher disagreeable suitor, and the importunities of Lady Audley in hisfavour. Every word she had spoken had more and, more dispelled the mistthat had so long hung over Sir Edmund's inclinations. At the firstmention of a suitor, he had felt that to be hers was a happiness thatcomprised all others; and that the idea of losing her made the whole ofexistence appear a frightful blank. These feelings were no sooner knownto himself than spontaneously poured into her delighted ears; while shefelt that every sentiment met a kindred one in her breast. Alicia soughtnot a moment to disguise those feelings, which she now, for the firsttime, became aware of; they were known to the object of her innocentaffection as soon as to herself, and both were convinced that, thoughnot conscious before of the nature of their sentiments, love had longbeen mistaken for friendship in their hearts. 

But this state of blissful serenity did not last long. On the evening ofthe following day Lady Audley sent for her to her dressing-room. Onentering, Alicia was panic-struck at her aunt's pale countenance, fieryeyes, and frame convulsed with passion. With difficulty Lady Audley, struggling for calmness, demanded an instant and decided reply to theproposals of Mr. Compton, the gentleman who had solicited her hand. Alicia entreated her aunt to waive the subject, as she found itimpossible ever to consent to such a union. 

Scarcely was her answer uttered when Lady Audley's anger burst forthuncontrollably. She accused her niece of the vilest ingratitude inhaving seduced her son from the obedience he owed his mother; of havingplotted to ally her base Scotch blood to the noble blood of the Audleys;and, having exhausted every opprobrious epithet, she was forced to stopfrom want of breath to proceed. As Alicia listened to the cruel, unfounded reproaches of her aunt, her spirit rose under the unmeritedill-usage, but her conscience absolved her from all intention ofinjuring or deceiving a human being; and she calmly waited till LadyAudley's anger should have exhausted itself, and then entreated to knowwhat part of her conduct had excited her aunt's displeasure. 

Lady Audley's reply was diffuse and intemperate. Alicia gathered fromit that her rage had its source in a declaration her son had made to herof his affection for his cousin, and his resolution of marrying her assoon as he was of age; which open avowal of his sentiments had followedLady Audley's injunctions to him to forward the suit of Mr. Compton. 

That her son, for whom she had in view one of the first matches in thekingdom, should dare to choose for himself; and, above all, to chooseone whom she considered as much his inferior in birth as she was infortune, was a circumstance quite insupportable to her feelings. 

Of the existence of love Lady Audley had little conception; and sheattributed her son's conduct to wilful disobedience and obstinacy. Inproportion as she had hitherto found him complying and gentle, her wrathhad kindled at his present firmness and inflexibility. So bitter wereher reflections on his conduct, so severe her animadversions on thebeing he loved, that Sir Edmund, fired with resentment, expressed hisresolution of acting according to the dictates of his own will; andexpressed his contempt for her authority in terms the most unequivocal. Lady Audley, ignorant of the arts of persuasion, by every word sheuttered more and more widened the breach her imperiousness hadoccasioned, until Sir Edmund, feeling himself no longer master of histemper, announced his intention of leaving the house, to allow hismother time to reconcile herself to the inevitable misfortune ofbeholding him the husband of Alicia Malcolm. 

He instantly ordered his horses and departed, leaving the followingletter for his cousin:--

"I have been compelled by motives of prudence, of which you are the soleobject, to depart without seeing you. My absence became necessary fromthe unexpected conduct of Lady Audley, which has led me so near toforgetting that she was my mother, that I dare not remain, and subjectmyself to excesses of temper which I might afterwards repent. Two yearsmust elapse before I can become legally my own master, and should LadyAudley so far depart from the dictates of cool judgment as still tooppose what she knows to be inevitable, I fear that we cannot meet tillthen. My heart is well known to you; therefore I need not enlarge on thepain I feel at this unlooked-for separation. At the same time, I amcheered with the prospect of the unspeakable happiness that awaitsme-the possession of your hand; and the confidence I feel in yourconstancy is in proportion to the certainty I experience in my own; Icannot, therefore, fear that any of the means which may be put inpractice to disunite us will have more effect on you than on me. 

"Looking forward to the moment that shall make you mine for ever, Iremain with steady confidence: and unspeakable affection, your

"EDMUND AUDLEY. "

With a trembling frame Alicia handed the note to Lady Audley, and beggedleave to retire for a short time; expressing her willingness to reply atanother moment to any question her aunt might choose to put to her withregard to her engagement with Sir Edmund. 

In the solitude of her own chamber Alicia gave way to those feelings ofwretchedness which she had with difficulty stifled in the presence ofLady Audley, and bitterly wept over the extinction of her bright andnewly-formed visions of felicity. To yield to unmerited ill-usage, or tocrouch beneath imperious and self-arrogated power, was not in the natureof Alicia; and had Lady Audley been a stranger to her, the path of dutywould have been less intricate. However much her own pride might havebeen wounded by entering into a family which considered her as anintruding beggar, never would she have consented to sacrifice thevirtuous inclinations of the man she loved to the will of an arrogantand imperious mother. But alas! the case was far different. The recentill-treatment she had experienced from Lady Audley could not efface fromher noble mind the recollection of benefits conferred from the earliestperiod of her life, and of unvarying attention to her welfare. To heraunt she owed all but existence; she had wholly supported her; bestowedon her the most liberal education; and from Lady Audley sprang everypleasure she had hitherto enjoyed. 

Had she been brought up by her paternal relations, she would in allprobability never have beheld her cousin; and the mother and son mighthave lived in uninterrupted concord. Could she be the person to inflicton Lady Audley the severest disappointment she could experience? Thethought was too dreadful to bear; and, knowing that procrastinationcould but increase her misery, no sooner had she felt convinced of thetrue nature of her duty than she made a steady resolution to perform andto adhere to it. Lady Audley had _vowed that while she had life shecould never give her consent and approbation to her son's marriage;_ andAlicia was too well acquainted with her disposition to have the faintestexpectation that she would relent. But to remain any longer under herprotection was impossible; and she resolved to anticipate any proposalof that sort from her protectress. 

When Lady Audley's passion had somewhat cooled, she again sent forAlicia. She began by repeating her _eternal enmity_ to the marriage in amanner impressive to the greatest degree, and still more decisive in itsform by the cool collectedness of her manner. She then desired to hearwhat Alicia had to say in exculpation of her conduct. 

The profound sorrow which filled the heart of Alicia left no room fortimidity or indecision. She answered her without hesitation andembarrassment, and asserted her innocence of all deceit in such a manneras to leave no doubt at least of honourable proceeding. In a fewimpressive words she proved herself sensible of the benefits her aunthad through life conferred upon her; and, while she openly professed tothink herself, in the present instance, deeply wronged, she declared herdetermination of never uniting herself to her cousin without LadyAudley's permission, which she felt convinced was unattainable. 

She then proceeded to ask where she should deem it most advisable forher to reside in future. 

Happy to find her wishes thus prevented, the unfeeling aunt expressedher satisfaction at Alicia's good sense and discretion; represented, inwhat she thought glowing colours, the unheard-of presumption it wouldhave been in her to take advantage of Sir Edmund's momentaryinfatuation; and then launched out into details of her ambitious viewsfor him in a matrimonial alliance--views which she affected now toconsider without obstacle. 

Alicia interrupted the painful and unfeeling harangue. It was neither, she said, for Sir Edmund's advantage nor to gratify his mother's pride, but to perform the dictates of her own conscience, that she had resignedhim; she even ventured to declare that the sharpest pang which thatresignation had cost her was the firm conviction that it would inflictupon him a deep and lasting sorrow. 

Lady Audley, convinced that moderate measures would be most likely toensure a continuation of Alicia's obedience, expressed herself grievedat the necessity of parting with her, and pleased that she should havethe good sense to perceive the propriety of such a separation. 

Sir Duncan Malcolm, the grandfather of Alicia, had, in the fewcommunications that had passed between Lady Audley and him, alwaysexpressed a wish to see his granddaughter before he died. Her ladyship'santipathy to Scotland was such that she would have deemed it absolutecontamination for her niece to have entered the country; and she hadtherefore always eluded the request. 

It was now, of all plans, the most eligible; and she graciously offeredto convey her niece as far as Edinburgh. The journey was immediatelysettled; and before Alicia left her aunt's presence a promise wasexacted with unfeeling tenacity, and given with melancholy firmness, never to unite herself to Sir Edmund unsanctioned by his mother. 

Alas! how imperfect is human wisdom! Even in seeking to do right howmany are the errors we commit! Alicia judged wrong in thus sacrificingthe happiness of Sir Edmund to the pride and injustice of his mother;but her error was that of a noble, self-denying spirit, entitled torespect, even though it cannot claim approbation. The honourable openconduct of her niece had so far gained upon Lady Audley that she did notobject to her writing to Sir Edmund, "DEAR SIR EDMUND--A painful line of conduct is pointed out to me byduty; yet of all the regrets I feel not one is so poignant as theconsciousness of that which you will feel at learning that I haveforever resigned the claims you so lately gave me to your heart andhand. It was not weakness--it could not be inconstancy--that producedthe painful sacrifice of a distinction still more gratifying to my heartthan flattering to my pride. 

"Need I remind you that to your mother I owe every benefit in life?Nothing can release me from the tribute of gratitude which would be illrepaid by braving her authority and despising her will. Should I giveher reason to regret the hour she received me under her roof, to repentof every benefit she has hitherto bestowed on me; should I draw down amother's displeasure, what reasonable hopes could we entertain of solidpeace through life? I am not in a situation which entitles me toquestion the justice of Lady Audley's will; and that will has pronouncedthat I shall never be Sir Edmund's wife. 

"Your first impulse may perhaps be to accuse me of coldness andingratitude in quitting the place and country you inhabit, and resigningyou back to yourself, without personally taking leave of you; but Itrust that you will, on reflection, absolve me from the charge. 

"Could Ihave had any grounds to suppose that a personal interview would beproductive of comfort to you, I would have joyfully supported thesufferings it would have inflicted on myself. But question your ownheart as to the use you would have made of such a meeting; bear in mindthat Lady Audley has my solemn promise never to be yours--a promise notlightly given; then imagine what must have been an interview between usunder such circumstances. 

"In proof of an affection which I can have no reason to doubt, I conjureyou to listen to the last request I shall ever make to my dear cousin. Give me the heartfelt satisfaction to know that my departure has put anend to those disagreements between mother and son of which I have beenthe innocent cause. 

"You have no reason to blame Lady Audley for this last step ofmine. I have not been intimidated--threats, believe me, never would haveextorted from me a promise to renounce you, had not Virtue herselfdictated the sacrifice; and my reward will spring from the convictionthat, as far as my judgment could discern, I have acted right. 

"Forget, I entreat you, this inauspicious passion. Resolve, like me, toresign yourself, without murmuring, to what is now past recall; and, instead of indulging melancholy, regain, by a timely exertion of mindand body, that serenity which is the portion of those who have obeyedthe dictates of rectitude. 

"Farewell, Sir Edmund. May every happiness attend your future life!While I strive to forget my ill-fated affection, the still strongerfeelings of gratitude and esteem for you can never fade from the heartof

 "ALICIA MALCOLM. "

To say that no tears were shed during the composition of this letterwould be to overstrain fortitude beyond natural bounds. With difficultyAlicia checked the effusions of her pen. She wished to have said muchmore, and to have soothed the agony of renunciation by painting withwarmth her tenderness and her regret; but reason urged that, in excitinghis feelings and displaying her own, she would defeat the chief purposeof her letter. She hastily closed and directed it, with a feeling almostakin to despair. 

The necessary arrangements for the journey having been hastily made, theladies set out two days after Sir Edmund had so hastily quitted them. The uncomplaining Alicia buried her woes in her own bosom; and neithermurmurs on the one hand, nor reproaches on the other, were heard. 

At the end of four days the travellers entered Scotland; and when theystopped for the night, Alicia, fatigued and dispirited, retiredimmediately to her apartment. 

She had been there but a few minutes when the chambermaid knocked at thedoor, and informed her that she was wanted below. 

Supposing that Lady Audley had sent for her, she followed the girlwithout observing that she was conducted in an opposite direction; when, upon entering an apartment, what was her astonishment at findingherself, not in the presence of Lady Audley, but in the arms of SirEdmund! In the utmost agitation, she sought to disengage herself fromhis almost frantic embrace; while he poured forth a torrent of rapturousexclamations, and swore that no human power should ever divide themagain. 

"I have followed your steps, dearest Alicia, from the moment I receivedyour letter. We are now in Scotland-in this blessed land of liberty. Everything is arranged; the clergyman is now in waiting; and in fiveminutes you shall be my own beyond the power of fate to sever us. "

Too much agitated to reply, Alicia wept in silence; and in the delightof once more beholding him she had thought never more to behold, forgot, for a moment, the duty she had imposed upon herself. But the nativeenergy of her character returned. She raised her head, and attempted towithdraw from the encircling arms of her cousin. 

"Never until you have vowed to be mine! The clergyman--thecarriage--everything is in readiness. Speak but the word, dearest. " Andhe knelt at her feet. 

At this juncture the door opened, and, pale with rage, her eyes flashingfire, Lady Audley stood before them. A dreadful scene now ensued. SirEdmund disdained to enter into any justification of his conduct, or evento reply to the invectives of his mother, but lavished the most tenderassiduities on Alicia; who, overcome more by the conflicts of her ownheart than with alarm at Lady Audley's violence, sat the pale and silentimage of consternation. 

Baffled by her son's indignant disregard, Lady Audley turned all herfury on her niece; and, in the most opprobrious terms that rage couldinvent, upbraided her with deceit and treachery--accusing her of makingher pretended submission instrumental to the more speedy accomplishmentof her marriage. Too much incensed to reply, Sir Edmund seized hiscousin's hand, and was leading her from the room. 

"Go, then--go, marry her; but first hear me swear, solemnly swear"--and she raised her hand and eyes to heaven--"that my malediction shallbe your portion! Speak but the word, and no power shall make me withholdit!"

"Dear Edmund!" exclaimed Alicia, distractedly, "never ought I to haveallowed time for the terrifying words that have fallen from LadyAudley's lips; never for me shall your mother's malediction fall on you. Farewell for ever!" and, with the strength of desperation, she rushedpast him, and quitted the room. Sir Edmund madly followed, but in vain. Alicia's feelings were too highly wrought at that moment to be touchedeven by the man she loved; and, without an additional pang, she saw himthrow himself into the carriage which he had destined for so different apurpose, and quit for ever the woman he adored. 

It may easily be conceived of how painful a nature must have been thefuture intercourse betwixt Lady Audley and her niece. The former seemedto regard her victim with that haughty distance which the unrelentingoppressor never fails to entertain towards the object of his tyranny;while even the gentle Alicia, on her part, shrank, with ill-concealedabhorrence, from the presence of that being whose stern decree hadblasted all the fairest blossoms of her happiness. 

Alicia was received with affection by her grandfather; and she labouredto drive away the heavy despondency which pressed on her spirits bystudying his taste and humours, and striving to contribute to hiscomfort and amusement. 

Sir Duncan had chosen the time of Alicia's arrival to transact somebusiness; and instead of returning immediately to the Highlands, hedetermined to remain some weeks in Edinburgh for her amusement. 

But, little attractive as dissipation had been, it was now absolutelyrepugnant to Alicia. She loathed the idea of mixing in scenes ofamusement with a heart incapable of joy, a spirit indifferent to everyobject that surrounded her; and in solitude alone she expected graduallyto regain her peace of mind. 

In the amusements of the gay season of Edinburgh, Alicia expected tofind all the vanity, emptiness, and frivolity of London dissipation, without its varied brilliancy and elegant luxury; yet, so much was itthe habit of her mind to look to the fairest side of things, and toextract some advantage from every situation in which she was placed, that pensive and thoughtful as was her disposition, the discriminatingonly perceived her deep dejection, while all admired her benevolence ofmanner and unaffected desire to please. 

By degrees Alicia found that in some points she had been inaccurate inher idea of the style of living of those who form the best society ofEdinburgh. The circle is so confined that its members are almostuniversally known to each other; and those various gradations ofgentility, from the city's snug party to the duchess's most crowdedassembly, all totally distinct and separate, which are to be met with inLondon, have no prototype in Edinburgh. There the ranks and fortunesbeing more on an equality, no one is able greatly to exceed hisneighbour in luxury and extravagance. Great magnificence, and theconsequent gratification produced by the envy of others being out of thequestion, the object for which a reunion of individuals was originallyinvented becomes less of a secondary consideration. Private parties forthe actual purpose of society and conversation are frequent, and answerthe destined end; and in the societies of professed amusement are to bemet the learned, the studious, and the rational; not presented as showsto the company by the host and hostess, but professedly seeking theirown gratification. 

Still the lack of beauty, fashion, and elegance disappoint the strangeraccustomed to their brilliant combination in a London world. But Aliciahad long since sickened in the metropolis at the frivolity of beauty, the heartlessness of fashion, and the insipidity of elegance; and it wasa relief to her to turn to the variety of character she found beneaththe cloak of simple, eccentric, and sometimes coarse manners. 

We are never long so totally abstracted by our own feelings as to beunconscious of the attempts of others to please us. In Alicia, to beconscious of it and to be grateful was the same movement. Yet she wassensible that so many persons could not in that short period have becomeseriously interested in her. The observation did not escape her how muchan English stranger is looked up to for fashion and taste in Edinburgh, though possessing little merit save that of being English; yet she feltgratified and thankful for the kindness and attention that greeted herappearance on all sides. 

Amongst the many who expressed goodwill towards Alicia there were a fewwhose kindness and real affection failed not to meet with a return fromher; and others whose rich and varied powers of mind for the first timeafforded her a true specimen of the exalting enjoyment produced by acommunion of intellect. She felt the powers of her understanding enlargein proportion; and, with this mental activity, she sought to solace thelanguor of her heart and save it from the listlessness of despair. 

Alicia had been about six weeks in Edinburgh when she received aletter from Lady Audley. No allusions were made to the past; she wroteupon general topics, in the cold manner that might be used to a commonacquaintance; and slightly named her son as having set out upon a tourto the Continent. 

Alicia's heart was heavy as she read the heartless letter of the womanwhose cruelty ad not been able to eradicate wholly from her breast hestrong durable affection of early habit. 

Sir Duncan and Alicia spent two months in Edinburgh, at the end of whichtime they went to his country seat in---shire. The adjacent country waspicturesque; and Sir Duncan's residence, though bearing marks of theabsence of taste and comfort in its arrangements, possessed much naturalbeauty. 

Two years of tranquil seclusion had passed over her head when herdormant feeling were all aroused by a letter from Sir Edmund. Itinformed her that he was now of age; that his affection remainedunalterable; that he was newly arrived from abroad; and that, notwithstanding the death-blow she had given to his hopes, he could notrefrain, on returning to his native land, from assuring her that he wasresolved never to pay his addresses to any other woman. He concluded bydeclaring his intent on of presenting himself at once to Sir Duncan, andsoliciting his permission to claim her hand: when all scruples relatingto Lady Audley must, from her change of abode, be at an end. 

Alicia read the letter with grateful affection and poignant regret. Again she shed he bitter tears of disappointment, at the hard task ofrefusing for a second time so noble and affectionate a heart. Butconscience whispered that to hold a passive line of conduct would be, insome measure, to deceive Lady Audley's expectations; and she felt, withexquisite anguish, that she had no means to put a final stop to SirEdmund's pursuits, and to her own trials, but by bestowing her hand onanother. The first dawning of this idea was accompanied by the mostviolent burst of anguish; but, far from driving away the painfulsubject, she strove to render it less appalling by dwelling upon it, andlabouring to reconcile herself to what seemed her only plan of conduct. She acknowledged to herself that, to remain still single, a prey to SirEdmund's importunities and the continual temptations of her own heart, was, for the sake of present indulgence, submitting to a fiery ordeal, from which she could not escape unblamable without the most repeated andagonising conflicts. 

Three months still remained for her of peace and liberty, after whichSir Duncan would go to Edinburgh. There she would be sure of meetingwith the loved companion of her youthful days; and the lurking weaknessof her own breast would then be seconded by the passionate eloquence ofthe being she most loved and admired upon earth. 

She wrote to him, repeating her former arguments; declaring that shecould never feel herself absolved from the promise she had given LadyAudley but by that lady herself, and imploring him to abandon a pursuitwhich would be productive only of lasting pain to both. 

Her arguments, her representations, all failed in their effect on SirEdmund's impetuous character. His answer was short and decided; thepurport of it, that he should see her in Edinburgh the moment shearrived there. 

"My fate then is fixed, " thought Alicia, as she read this letter; "Imust finish the sacrifice. "

The more severe had been the struggle between love and victorious duty, the more firmly was she determined to maintain this dear-boughtvictory. 

Alicia's resolution of marrying was now decided, and the opportunity wasnot wanting. She had become acquainted, during the preceding winter inEdinburgh, with Major Douglas, eldest son of Mr. Douglas of Glenfern. Hehad then paid her the most marked attention; and, since her return tothe country, had been a frequent visitor at Sir Duncan's. At length heavowed his partiality, which was heard by Sir Duncan with pleasure, byAlicia with dread and submission. Yet she felt less repugnance towardshim than to any other of her suitors. He was pleasing in his person;quiet and simple in his manners; and his character stood high forintegrity, good temper, and plain sense. The sequel requires littlefurther detail. Alicia Malcolm became the wife of Archibald Douglas. 

An eternal constancy is a thing so rare to be met with, that persons whodesire that sort of reputation strive to obtain it by nourishing theideas that recall the passion, even though guilt and sorrow should gohand in hand with it. But Alicia, far from piquing herself in thelovelorn pensiveness she might have assumed, had she yielded to theimpulse of her feelings, diligently strove not only to make up her mindto the lot which had devolved to her, but to bring it to such a frame ofcheerfulness as should enable her to contribute to her husband'shappiness. 

When the soul is no longer buffeted by the storms of hope or fear, whenall is fixed unchangeably for life, sorrow for the past will never longprey on a pious and well-regulated mind. If Alicia lost the buoyantspirit of youth, the bright and quick play of fancy, yet a placidcontentment crowned her days; and at the end of two years she would havebeen astonished had anyone marked her as an object of compassion. 

She scarcely ever heard from Lady Audley; and in the few letters heraunt had favoured her with, she gave favourable, though vague accountsof her son. Alicia did not court a more unreserved communication, andhad long since taught herself to hope that he was now happy. Soon aftertheir marriage Major Douglas quitted the army, upon succeeding to a smallestate on the banks of Lochmarlie by the death of an uncle; and there, in the calm seclusion of domestic life, Mrs. Douglas found that peacewhich might have been denied her amid gayer scenes. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

 And joyous was the scene in early summer. "

 MADOC. 

ON Henry's return from his solitary ramble Mrs. Douglas learnt from himthe cause of the misunderstanding that had taken place; and judgingthat, in the present state of affairs, a temporary separation might beof use to both parties, as they were now about to return home sheproposed to her husband to invite his brother and Lady Juliana to followand spend a few weeks with them at Lochmarlie Cottage. 

The invitation was eagerly accepted; for though Lady Juliana did notanticipate any positive pleasure from the change, still she thought thatevery place must be more agreeable than her present abode, especially asshe stipulated for the utter exclusion of the aunts from the party. Toatone for this mortification Miss Becky was invited to fill the vacantseat in the carriage; and, accordingly, with a cargo of strong shoes, greatcoats, and a large work-bag well stuffed with white-seam, she tookher place at the appointed hour. 

The day they had chosen for their expedition was one that "sent a summerfeeling to the heart. "

The air was soft and genial; not a cloud stained the bright azure of theheavens; and the sun shone out in all his splendour, shedding life andbeauty even over all the desolate heath-clad hills of Glenfern. But, after they had journeyed a few miles, suddenly emerging from the valley, a scene of matchless beauty burst at once upon the eye. Before them laythe dark-blue waters of Lochmarlie, reflecting, as in a mirror, everysurrounding object, and bearing on its placid transparent bosom a fleetof herring-boats, the drapery of whose black suspended nets contrastedwith picturesque effect the white sails of the larger vessels, whichwere vainly spread to catch a breeze. All around, rocks, meadows, woods, and hills, mingled in wild and lovely irregularity. 

On a projecting point of land stood a little fishing village, its whitecottages reflected in the glassy waters that almost surrounded it. Onthe opposite side of the lake, or rather estuary, embosomed in wood, rosethe lofty turrets of Lochmarlie Castle; while here and there, perched onsome mountain's brow, were to be seen the shepherd's lonely hut, and theheath-covered summer shealing. 

Not a breath was stirring, not a sound was heard save the rushing of awaterfall, the tinkling of some silver rivulet, or the calm rippling ofthe tranquil lake; now and then, at intervals, the fisherman's Gaelicditty chanted, as he lay stretched on the sand in some sunny nook; orthe shrill distant sound of childish glee. How delicious to the feelingheart to behold so fair a scene of unsophisticated Nature, and tolisten to her voice alone, breathing the accents of innocence and joy!

But none of the party who now gazed on it had minds capable of beingtouched with the emotions it was calculated to inspire. 

Henry, indeed, was rapturous in his expressions of admiration; but heconcluded his panegyrics by wondering his brother did not keep a cutter, and resolving to pass a night on board one of the herring boats, that hemight eat the fish in perfection. 

Lady Juliana thought it might be very pretty, if, instead of thosefrightful rocks and shabby cottages, there could be villas, and gardens, and lawns, and conservatories, and summer-houses, and statues. 

Miss Becky observed, if it was hers, she would cut down the woods, andlevel the hills, and have races. 

The road wound along the sides of the lake, sometimes overhung withbanks of natural wood, which, though scarcely budding, grew so thick asto exclude the prospect; in other places surmounted by large masses ofrock, festooned with ivy, and embroidered by mosses of a thousand huesthat glittered under the little mountain streamlets. Two miles fartheron stood the simple mansion of Mr. Douglas. It was situated in a wildsequestered nook, formed by a little bay at the farther end of thelake. On three sides it was surrounded by wooded hills that offered acomplete shelter from every nipping blast. To the south the lawn, sprinkled with trees and shrubs, sloped gradually down to the water. 

At the door they were met by Mrs. Douglas, who welcomed them withthe most affectionate cordiality, and conducted them into the housethrough a little circular hall, filled with flowering shrubs and foreignplants. 

"How delightful!" exclaimed Lady Juliana, as she stopped to inhalethe rich fragrance. "Moss roses! I do delight in them, " twisting off arich cluster of flowers and buds in token of her affection; "and I quitedoat upon heliotrope, " gathering a handful of flowers as she spoke. Thenextending her hand towards a most luxuriant Cape jessamine--

"I must really petition you to spare this, my favourite child, " said hersister-in-law, as she gently withheld her arm; "and, to tell you thetruth, dear Lady Juliana, you have already infringed the rules of mylittle conservatory, which admit only of the gratification of twosenses--seeing and smelling. "

"What! don't you like your flowers to be gathered?" exclaimed LadyJuliana in a tone of surprise and disappointment; "I don't know anyother use they're of. What quantities I used to have from Papa'shothouses!"

Mrs. Douglas made no reply; but conducted her to the drawing-room, whereher chagrin was dispelled by the appearance of comfort and even elegancethat it bore. "Now, this is really what I like, " cried she, throwingherself on one of the couches; "a large fire, open windows, quantitiesof roses, comfortable Ottomans, and pictures; only what a pity youhaven't a larger mirror. "

Mrs. Douglas now rang for refreshments, and apologised for the absenceof her husband, who, she said, was so much interested in his ploughingthat he seldom made his appearance till sent for. 

Henry then proposed that they should all go out and surprise hisbrother; and though walking in the country formed no part of LadyJuliana's amusements, yet, as Mrs. Douglas assured her the walks wereperfectly dry, and her husband was so pressing, she consented. The waylay through a shrubbery, by the side of a brawling brook, whose banksretained all the wildness of unadorned nature. Moss and ivy and fernclothed the ground; and under the banks the young primroses and violetsbegan to raise their heads; while the red wintry berry still hung thickon the hollies. 

"This is really very pleasant, " said Henry, stopping to contemplate aview of the lake through the branches of a weeping birch; "the sound ofthe stream, and the singing of the birds, and all those wild flowersmake it appear as if it was summer in this spot; and only look, Julia, how pretty that wherry looks lying at anchor. " Then whispering to her, "What would you think of such a desert as this, with the man of yourheart?"

Lady Juliana made no reply but by complaining of the heat of the sun, the hardness of the gravel, and the damp from the water. 

Henry, who now began to look upon the condition of a Highland farmerwith more complacency than formerly, was confirmed in his favourablesentiments at sight of his brother, following the primitive occupationof the plough, his fine face glowing with health, and lighted up withgood humour and happiness. He hastily advanced towards the party, andshaking his brother and sister-in-law most warmly by the hand, expressed, with all the warmth of a good heart, the pleasure he had inreceiving them at his house. Then observing Lady Juliana's languid air, and imputing to fatigue of body what, in fact, was the consequence ofmental vacuity, he proposed returning home by a shorter road than thatby which they had come. Henry was again in raptures at the new beautiesthis walk presented, and at the high order and neatness in which thegrounds were kept. 

"This must be a very expensive place of yours, though, " said he, addressing his sister-in-law; "there is so much garden and shrubbery, and such a number of rustic bridges, bowers, and so forth: it mustrequire half a dozen men to keep it in any order. "

"Such an establishment would very ill accord with our moderate means, "replied she; "we do not pretend to one regular gardener; and had ourlittle embellishments been productive of much expense, or tending solelyto my gratification, I should never have suggested them. When we firsttook possession of this spot it was a perfect wilderness, with a dirtyfarm-house on it; nothing but mud about the doors; nothing but wood andbriers and brambles beyond it; and the village presented a still moremelancholy scene of rank luxuriance, in its swarms of dirty idle girlsand mischievous boys. I have generally found that wherever an evilexists the remedy is not far off; and in this case it was strikinglyobvious. It was only engaging these ill-directed children by triflingrewards to apply their lively energies in improving instead ofdestroying the works of nature, as had formerly been their zealouspractice. In a short time the change on the moral as well as thevegetable part of creation became very perceptible: the children grewindustrious and peaceable; and instead of destroying trees, robbingnests, and worrying cats, the bigger boys, under Douglas's direction, constructed these wooden bridges and seats, or cut out and gravelled thelittle winding paths that we had previously marked out. The task ofkeeping everything n order is now easy, as you may believe, when I tellyou the whole of our pleasure-grounds, as you are pleased to term them, receive no other attention than what is bestowed by children undertwelve years of age. And now, having, I hope, acquitted myself of thecharge of extravagance, I ought to beg Lady Juliana's pardon for thislong, and, I fear, tiresome detail. "

Having now reached the house, Mrs. Douglas conducted her guest to theapartment prepared for her, while the brothers pursued their walk. 

As long as novelty retained its power, and the comparison betweenGlenfern and Lochmarlie was fresh in remembrance, Lady Juliana, charmedwith everything, was in high good-humour. 

But as the horrors of the one were forgotten, and the comforts of theother became familiar, the demon of ennui again took possession of hervacant mind, and she relapsed into all her capricious humours andchildish impertinences. The harpsichord, which, on her first arrival, she had pronounced to be excellent, was now declared quite shocking; somuch out of tune that there was no possibility of playing upon it. Thesmall collection of well-chosen novels she soon exhausted, and then theybecame the "stupidest books she had ever read;" the smell of theheliotrope now gave her the headache; the sight of the lake made hersea-sick. 

Mrs. Douglas heard all these civilities in silence, and much more "insorrow than in anger. " In the wayward inclinations, variable temper, andwretched inanity of this poor victim of indulgence, she beheld the sadfruits of a fashionable education; and thought with humility that, undersimilar circumstances, such might have been her own character. 

"Oh, what an awful responsibility do those parents incur, " she wouldmentally exclaim, "who thus neglect or corrupt the noble deposit of animmortal soul! And who, alas! can tell where the mischief may end? Thisunfortunate will herself become a mother; yet wholly ignorant of theduties, incapable of the self-denial of that sacred office, she willbring into the world creatures to whom she can only transmit her errorsand her weaknesses!"

These reflections at times deeply affected the generous heart and trulyChristian spirit of Mrs. Douglas; and she sought, by every means in herpower, to restrain those faults which she knew it would be vain toattempt eradicating. 

To diversify the routine of days which grew more and more tedious toLady Juliana, the weather being remarkably fine, many little excursionswere made to the nearest country seats; which, though they did notafford her any actual pleasure, answered the purpose of consuming aconsiderable portion of her time. 

Several weeks passed away, during which little inclination was shown onthe part of the guests to quit their present residence, when Mr. AndMrs. Douglas were summoned to attend the sick-bed of Sir Duncan Malcolm;and though they pressed their guests to remain during their absence, yetHenry felt it would be highly offensive to his father were they to doso, and therefore resolved immediately to return to Glenfern. 

CHAPTER XV. 

 "They steeked doors, ' they steeked yetts, Close to the cheek and chin; They steeked them a' but a little wicket, And Lammikin crap in. "Now quhere's the lady of this castle?"

 _Old Ballad. _

THE party were received with the loudest acclamations of joy by the goodold ladies; and even the Laird seemed to have forgotten that his son hadrefused to breed black cattle, and that his daughter-in-law was abovethe management of her household. 

The usual salutations were scarcely over when Miss Grizzy, flying toher little writing-box, pulled out a letter, and, with an air ofimportance, having enjoined silence, she read as follows:--

"LOCMARLIE CASTLE, _March_ 27, 17--. 

"DEAR CHILD-Sir Sampson's stomach has been as bad as it could well be, but not so bad as your roads. He was shook to a jelly. My petticoat willnever do. Mrs. M'Hall has had a girl. I wonder what makes people havegirls; they never come to good. Boys may go to the mischief, and be goodfor something--if girls go, they're good for nothing I know of. I neversaw such roads. I suppose Glenfern means to bury you all in the highway;there are holes enough to make you graves, and stones big enough forcoffins. You must all come and spend Tuesday here--not all, but some ofyou--you, dear child, and your brother, and a sister, and your prettyniece, and handsome nephew--I love handsome people. Miss M'Kraken hasbounced away with her father's footman--I hope he will clean his kniveson her. Come early, and come dressed, to your loving friend, "ISABELLA MACLAUGHLAN. "

The letter ended, a volley of applause ensued, which at length gaveplace to consultation. "Of course we all go--at least as many as thecarriage will hold: we have no engagements, and there can be noobjections. "

Lady Juliana had already frowned a contemptuous refusal, but in duetime it was changed to a sullen assent, at the pressing entreaties ofher husband, to whom any place was now preferable to home. In truth, themention of a party had more weight with her than either her husband'swishes or her aunts' remonstrances; and they had assured her that sheshould meet with a large assemblage of the very first company atLochmarlie Castle. 

The day appointed for the important visit arrived; and it was arrangedthat two of the elder ladies and one of the young ones should accompanyLady Juliana in her barouche, which Henry was to drive. 

At peep of dawn the ladies were astir, and at eight o'clock breakfastwas hurried over that they might begin the preparations necessary forappearing with dignity at the shrine of this their patron saint. Ateleven they reappeared in all the majesty of sweeping silk trains andwell-powdered toupees. In outward show Miss Becky was not lesselaborate; the united strength and skill of her three aunts and foursisters had evidently been exerted in forcing her hair into everyposition but that for which nature had intended it; curls stood on endaround her forehead, and tresses were dragged up from the roots, andformed into a club on the crown; her arms had been strapped back tillher elbows met, by means of a pink ribbon of no ordinary strength ordoubtful hue. 

Three hours were past in all the anguish of full-dressed impatience; ananguish in which every female breast must be ready to sympathise. ButLady Juliana sympathised in no one's distresses but her own, and thedifference of waiting in high dress or in déshabille was a distinctionto her inconceivable. But those to whom _to be dressed _is an event willreadily enter into the feelings of the ladies in question as they sat, walked, wondered, exclaimed, opened windows, wrung their hands, adjustedtheir dress, etc. Etc. , during the three tedious hours they were doomedto wait the appearance of their niece. 

Two o'clock came, and with it Lady Juliana, as if purposely to testifyher contempt, in a loose morning dress and mob cap. The sisters lookedblank with disappointment; for having made themselves mistresses of thecontents of her ladyship's wardrobe, they had settled amongst themselvesthat the most suitable dress for the occasion would be black velvet, andaccordingly many hints had been given the preceding evening on thevirtues of black velvet gowns. They were warm, and not too warm; theywere dressy, and not too dressy; Lady Maclaughlan was a great admirer ofblack velvet gowns; she had one herself with long sleeves, and thatbuttoned behind; black velvet gowns were very much wore; they knewseveral ladies who had them; and they were certain there would benothing else wore amongst the matrons at Lady Maclaughlan's, etc. Etc. 

Time was, however, too precious to be given either to remonstrance orlamentation. Miss Jacky could only give an angry look, and Miss Grizzya sorrowful one, as they hurried away to the carriage, utteringexclamations of despair at the lateness of the hour, and theimpossibility that anybody could have time to dress after getting toLochmarlie Castle. 

The consequence of the delay was that it was dark by the time theyreached the place of destination. The carriage drove up to the grandentrance; but neither lights nor servants greeted their arrival; and noanswer was returned to the ringing of the bell. 

"We had best get out and try the back. This is most alarming, Ideclare!" cried Miss Grizzy. 

"It is quite incomprehensible!" observed Miss Jacky. "We had best getout and try the back door. "

The party alighted, and another attack being made upon the rear, it metwith better success; for a little boy now presented himself at a narrowopening of the door, and in a strong Highland accent demanded "wha tawar seekin'?"

"Lady Maclaughlan, to be sure, Colin, " was the reply. 

"Weel, weel, " still refusing admittance; "but te leddie's no to bespoken wi' to-night. "

"Not to be spoken with!" exclaimed Miss Grizzy, almost sinking to theground with apprehension. "Good gracious I--I hope I--I declare I--SirSampson!----"

"OO ay, hur may see Lochmarlie hursel. " Then opening the door, he ledthe way, and ushered them into the presence of Sir Sampson, who wasreclining in an easy chair, arrayed in a _robe de chambre_ and nightcap. The opening of the door seemed to have broken his slumber; for, gazingaround with a look of stupefaction, he demanded in a sleepy peevishtone, "Who was there?"

"Bless me, Sir Sampson!" exclaimed both spinsters at once, dartingforward and seizing a hand; "bless me, don't you know us? And here isour niece, Lady Juliana. "

"My Lady Juliana Douglas!" cried he, with a shriek of horror, sinkingagain upon his cushions. "I am betrayed--I--Where is my LadyMaclaughlan?--Where is Philistine?-- Where is--the devil! This is not tobe borne! My Lady Juliana Douglas, the Earl of Courtland's daughter, tobe introduced to Lochmarlie Castle in so vile a manner, and myselfsurprised in so indecorous a situation!" And, his lips quivering withpassion, he rang the bell. 

The summons was answered by the same attendant that had acted asgentleman usher. 

"'Where are all my people?" demanded his incensed master. 

"Hurs aw awa tull ta Sandy More's. "

"Where is my Lady?"

"Hurs i' ta teach tap. " [1]

[1] House top. 

"'Where is Murdoch?"

"Hur's helpin' ta leddie i' ta teach tap. "

"Oh, we'll all go upstairs, and see what Lady Maclaughlan and Philistineare about in the laboratory, " said Miss Grizzy. "So pray, just go onwith your nap, Sir Sampson; we shall find the way--don't stir;" andtaking Lady Juliana by the hand, away tripped the spinsters in search oftheir friend. "I cannot conceive the meaning of all this, " whisperedMiss Grizzy to her sister as they went along. "Something must be wrong;but I said nothing to dear Sir Sampson, his nerves are so easilyagitated. But what can be the meaning of all this? I declare it's quitea mystery. "

After ascending several long dark stairs, and following divers windingsand turnings, the party at length reached the door of the _sanctumsanctorum, _ and having gently tapped, the voice of the priestess washeard in no very encouraging accents, demanding "Who was there?"

"It's only us, " replied her trembling friend. 

"Only us? humph! I wonder what fool is called _only us!_ Open thedoor, Philistine, and see what _only us_ wants. "

The door was opened and the party entered. The day was closing in, but by the faint twilight that mingled with the gleams from a smokysmouldering fire, Lady Maclaughlan was dimly discernible, as she stoodupon the hearth, watching the contents of an enormous kettle thatemitted both steam and odour. She regarded the invaders with her usualmarble aspect, and without moving either joint or muscle as they drewnear. 

"I declare--I don't think you know us, Lady Maclaughlan, " said MissGrizzy in a tone of affected vivacity, with which she strove to concealher agitation. 

"Know you!" repeated her friend--"humph! Who you are, I know very well;but what brings you here, I do _not_ know. Do you know yourselves?"

"I declare---I can't conceive----" began Miss Grizzy; but hertrepidation arrested her speech, and her sister therefore proceeded--

"Your ladyship's declaration is no less astonishing thanincomprehensible. We have waited upon you by your own express invitationon the day appointed by yourself; and we have been received in a manner, I must say, we did not expect, considering this is the first visit ofour niece Lady Juliana Douglas. "

"I'll tell you what, girls, " replied their friend, as she still stoodwith her back to the fire, and her hands behind her; "I'll tell youwhat, --you are not yourselves--you are all lost--quite mad--that'sall--humph!"

"If that's the case, we cannot be fit company for your ladyship, "retorted Miss Jacky warmly; "and therefore the best thing we can do isto return the way we came. Come, Lady Juliana--come, sister. "

"I declare, Jacky, the impetuosity of your temper is--I really cannotstand it--" and the gentle Grizzy gave way to a flood of tears. 

"You used to be rational, intelligent creatures, " resumed her ladyship;"but what has come over you, I don't know. You come tumbling in here atthe middle of the night--and at the top of the house nobody knowshow--when I never was thinking of you; and because I don't tell a parcelof lies, and pretend I expected you, you are for flying off again--humph! Is this the behaviour of women in their senses? But since youare here, you may as well sit down and say what brought you. Get down, Gil Blas--go along, Tom Jones, " addressing two huge cats, who occupied athree-cornered leather chair by the fireside, and who relinquished itwith much reluctance. 

"How do you do, pretty creature?" kissing Lady Juliana, as she seatedher in this eat's cradle. "Now, girls, sit down, and tell what broughtyou here to-day--humph!"

"Can your Ladyship ask such a question, after having formally invitedus?" demanded the wrathful Jacky. 

"I'll tell you what, girls; you were just as much invited by me to dinehere to-day as you were appointed to sup with the GrandSeignior--humph!"

"What day of the week does your Ladyship call this?"

"I call it Tuesday; but I suppose the Glenfern calendar calls itThursday: Thursday was the day I invited you to come. "

"I'm sure--I'm thankful we're got to the bottom of it at last, " criedMiss Grizzy; "I read it, because I'm sure you wrote it, Tuesday. "

"How could you be such a fool, my love, as to read it any such thing?Even if it had been written Tuesday, you might have had the sense toknow it meant Thursday. When did you know me invite anybody for aTuesday?"

"I declare it's very true; I certainly ought to have known better. Iam quite confounded at my own stupidity; for, as you observe, eventhough you had said Tuesday, I might have known that you must have meantThursday. "

"Well, well, no more about it. Since you are here you must stay here, and you must have something to eat, I suppose. Sir Sampson and I havedined two hours ago; but you shall have your dinner for all that. I mustshut shop for this day, it seems, and leave my resuscitating tinctureall in the deadthraw--Methusalem pills quite in their infancy. Butthere's no help for it. Since you are here you must stay here, and youmust be fed and lodged; so get along, girls, get along. Here, GilBlas--come, Tom Jones. " And, preceded by her cats, and followed by herguests, she led the way to the parlour. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

 "Point de milieu: l'hymen et ses liens Sont les plus grands ou des maux ou des biens. "

 _L' Enfant Prodigue. _

ON returning to the parlour they found Sir Sampson had, by means of theindefatigable Philistine, been transported into a suit of regimentalsand well-powdered peruke, which had in some measure restored him to hisusual complacency. Henry, who had gone in quest of some person to takecharge of the horses, now entered; and shortly after a tray ofprovisions was brought, which the half-famished party eagerly attacked, regardless of their hostess's admonitions to eat sparingly, as nothingwas so dangerous as eating heartily when people were hungry. 

The repast being at length concluded, Lady Maclaughlan led her guestsinto the saloon. They passed through an antechamber, which seemed, bythe faint light of the lamp, to contain nothing but piles on piles ofchina, and entered the room of state. 

The eye at first wandered in uncertain obscurity; and the guestscautiously proceeded over a bare oaken floor, whose dark polishedsurface seemed to emulate a mirror, through an apartment of formidableextent. 

The walls were hung with rich but grotesque tapestry. The ceiling, byits height and massy carving, bespoke the age of the apartment; but thebeauty of the design was lost in the gloom. 

A Turkey carpet was placed in the middle of the floor; and on the middleof the carpet stood the card table, at which two footmen, hastilysummoned from the revels at Sandy More's, were placing chairs and cards;seemingly eager to display themselves, as if to prove that they werealways at their posts. 

Cards were a matter of course with Sir Sampson and his lady; but aswhist was the only game they ever played, a difficulty arose as to themeans of providing amusement for the younger part of the company. 

"I have plenty of books for you, my loves, " said Lady Maclaughlan; and, taking one of the candles, she made a journey to the other end of theroom, and entered a small turret, from which her voice was heard issuingmost audibly, "All the books that should ever have been published arehere. Read these, and you need read no more: all the world's in thesebooks--humph! Here's the Bible, great and small, with apocrypha andconcordance! Here's Floyer's Medicina Gerocomica, or the Galenic Art ofPreserving Old Men's Health;--Love's Art of Surveying and MeasuringLand;--Transactions of the Highland Society;--Glass's Cookery;--Flavel'sFountain of Life Opened;--Fencing Familiarised;--Observations on the Useof Bath Waters;--Cure for Soul Sores;--De Blondt's MilitaryMemoirs;--MacGhie's Book-keeping;--Mead on Pestilence;--Astenthology, orthe Art of Preserving Feeble Life!"

As she enumerated the contents of her library, she paused at the end ofeach title, in hopes of hearing the book called for; but she was allowedto proceed without interruption to the end of her catalogue. 

"Why, what would you have, children?" cried she in one of her sternestaccents. "I don't know! Do you know yourselves? Here are two novels, theonly ones worth any Christian's reading. "

Henry gladly accepted the first volumes of Gil Bias and ClarissaHarlowe; and, giving the latter to Lady Juliana, began the otherhimself. Miss Becky was settled with her hands across; and, the whistparty being arranged, a solemn silence ensued. 

Lady Juliana turned over a few pages of her own book, then beggedHenry would exchange with her; but both were in so different a stylefrom the French and German school she had been accustomed to, that theywere soon relinquished in disappointment and disgust. 

On the table, which had been placed by the fire for her accommodation, lay an English newspaper; and to that she had recourse, as a last effortat amusement. But, alas! even the dulness of Clarissa Harlowe wasdelight compared to the anguish with which this fatal paper was fraught, in the shape of the following paragraph, which presented itself to theunfortunate fair one's eye:--

"Yesterday was married, by special license, at the house of Mrs. D---, his Grace the Duke of L---, to the beautiful and accomplished Miss D---. His Royal Highness the Duke of ---- was gracious enough to act as fatherto the bride upon this occasion, and was present in person, as weretheir Royal Highnesses the Dukes of ---, and of ---. The bride lookedmost bewitchingly lovely, in a simple robe of the finest Mechlin lace, with a superb veil of the same costly material, which hung down to herfeet. She wore a set of pearls estimated at thirty thousand pounds, whose chaste elegance corresponded with the rest of the dress. Immediately after the ceremony they partook of a sumptuous collation, and the happy pair setoff in a chariot and four, attended by sixoutriders, and two coaches and four. 

"After spending the honeymoon at his Grace's unique villa on the Thames, their Graces will receive company at their splendid mansion in PortmanSquare. The wedding paraphernalia is said to have cost ten thousandpounds; and her Grace's jewel-box is estimated at little less than halfa million. "

Wretched as Lady Juliana had long felt herself to be, her former stateof mind was positive happiness compared to what she now endured. Envy, regret, self-reproach, and resentment, all struggled in the breast ofthe self-devoted beauty, while the paper dropped from her hand, and shecast a fearful glance around, as if to ascertain the reality of herfate. The dreadful certainty smote her with a sense of wretchedness tooacute to be suppressed; and, darting a look of horror at her unconscioushusband, she threw herself back in her chair, while the scalding tearsof envy, anger, and repentance fell from her eyes. 

Accustomed as Henry now was to these ebullitions of _feeling_ from hisbeauteous partner, he was not yet so indifferent as to behold themunmoved; and he sought to soothe her by the kindest expressions and mosttender epithets. These indeed had long since ceased to charm away thelady's ill-humour, but they sometimes succeeded in mollifying it. Butnow their only effect seemed to be increasing the irritation, as sheturned from all her husband's inquiries, and impatiently withdrew herhands from his. 

Astonished at a conduct so incomprehensible, Douglas earnestly besoughtan explanation. 

"There!" cried she, at length, pushing the paper towards him, "seethere what I might have been but for you; and then compare it with whatyou have made me!"

Confounded by this reproach, Henry eagerly snatched up the paper, andhis eye instantly fell on the fatal paragraph--the poisoned dart thatstruck the death-blow to all that now remained to him of happiness--thefond idea that, even amidst childish folly and capricious estrangement, still in the main he was beloved! With a quivering lip, and cheekblanched with mortification and indignant contempt, he laid down thepaper; and without casting a look upon, or uttering a word to, his once_adored and adoring Juliana, _ quitted the apartment in all thatbitterness of spirit which a generous nature must feel when it firstdiscovers the fallacy of a cherished affection. Henry had indeed ceasedto regard his wife with the ardour of romantic passion; nor had thesolid feelings of affectionate esteem supplied its place; but he lovedher still, because he believed himself the engrossing object of hertenderness; and in that blest delusion he had hitherto found palliativesfor her folly and consolation for all his own distresses. 

To indifference he might for a time have remained insensible; because, though his feelings were strong, his perceptions were not acute. But theveil of illusion was now rudely withdrawn. He beheld himself detestedwhere he imagined himself adored; and the anguish of disappointedaffection was heightened by the stings of wounded pride and deludedself-love. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

 "What's done, cannot be undone; to bed, to bed, to bed!"

 _Exit Lady Macbeth. _

THE distance at which the whist party had placed themselves, and thedeep interest in which their senses were involved while the fate of theodd trick was pending, had rendered them insensible to the scene thatwas acting at the other extremity of the apartment. The task ofadministering succour to the afflicted fair one therefore devolved uponMiss Becky, whose sympathetic powers never had been called into actionbefore. Slowly approaching the wretched Lady Juliana as she lay back inher chair, the tears coursing each other down her cheeks, she tenderedher a smelling-bottle, to which her own nose, and the noses of hersisters, were wont to be applied whenever, as they choicely expressedit, they wanted a "fine smell. " But upon this trying occasion she wentstill farther. She unscrewed the stopper, unfolded a cottonhandkerchief, upon which she poured a few drops of lavender water, andoffered it to her ladyship, deeming that the most elegant and efficientmanner in which she could afford relief. But the well-meant offering wassilently waved off; and poor Miss Becky, having done all that the lightof reason suggested to her, retreated to her seat, wondering what itwas her fine sister-in-law would be at. 

By the time the rubber was ended her ladyship's fears of LadyMaclaughlan had enabled her to conquer her feelings so far that they hadnow sunk into a state of sullen dejection, which the good aunts eagerlyinterpreted into the fatigue of the journey, Miss Grizzy declaring thatalthough the drive was most delightful--nobody could deny that--and theyall enjoyed it excessively, as indeed everybody must who had eyes intheir head; yet she must own, at the same time, that she really feltas if all her bones were broke. 

A general rising therefore took place at an early hour, and LadyJuliana, attended by all the females of the party, was ushered into thechamber of state, which was fitted up in a style acknowledged to betruly magnificent, by all who had ever enjoyed the honour of beingpermitted to gaze on its white velvet bed curtains, surmounted by thefamily arms, and gracefully tucked up by hands _sinister-couped _at thewrists, etc. But lest my fashionable readers should be of a differentopinion, I shall refrain from giving an inventory of the variousarticles with which this favoured chamber was furnished. Misses Grizzyand Jacky occupied the green room which had been fitted up at SirSampson's birth. The curtains hung at a respectful distance from theground; the chimney-piece was far beyond the reach even of the majesticJacky's arm; and the painted tiffany toilet was covered with a shoal oflittle tortoise-shell boxes of all shapes and sizes. A grim visage, scowling from under a Highland bonnet, graced by a single black feather, hung on high. Miss Grizzy placed herself before it, and, holding up thecandle, contemplated it for about the nine hundredth time, with an awebordering almost on adoration. 

"Certainly Sir Eneas must have been a most wonderful man--nobody candeny that; and there can be no question but he had the second-sight tothe greatest degree--indeed, I never heard it disputed; many of hisprophecies, indeed, seem to have been quite incomprehensible; but thatis so much the more extraordinary; you know--for instance, the one withregard to our family, " lowering her voice; "for my part I declare Inever could comprehend it; and yet there must be something in it, too;but how any branch from the Glenfern tree--of course, you know, that canonly mean the family tree--should help to prop Lochmarlie's walls, iswhat I can't conceive. If Sir Sampson had a son, to be sure, some of thegirls--for you know it can't be any of us; at least I declare for my ownpart--I'm sure even if any thing which I trust, in goodness, there isnot the least chance of, should ever happen to dear Lady Maclaughlan, andSir Sampson should take it into his head--which, of course, is a thingnot to be thought about--and indeed I'm quite convinced it would be verymuch out of respect to dear Lady Maclaughlan, a friendship for us, ifsuch a thing was ever into his head. "

Here the tender Grizzy got so involved in her own ideas as to thepossibility of Lady Maclaughlan's death, and the propriety of SirSampson's proposals, together with the fulfilling of Sir Eneas theseer's prophecy, that there is no saying how far she strayed in herself-created labyrinth. Such as choose to follow her may. For our part, weprefer accompanying the youthful Becky to her chamber, whither she wasalso attended by the lady of the mansion. Becky's destiny for the nightlay at the top of one of those little straggling wooden stairs common inold houses, which creaked in all directions. The bed was placed in arecess dark as Erebus, and betwixt the bed and the wall, was a depthprofound, which Becky's eye dared not attempt to penetrate. 

"You will find everything right here, child, " said Lady Maclaughlan;"and if anything should be wrong you must think it right. I never sufferanything to be wrong here--humph!" Becky, emboldened by despair, cast alook towards the recess; and in a faint voice ventured to inquire, "Isthere no fear that Tom Jones or Gil Blas may be in that place behindthe bed?"

"And if they should, " answered her hostess in her most appallingtone, "what is that to you? Are you a mouse, that you are afraid theywill eat you? Yes, I suppose you are. You are perhaps the princess inthe fairy tale, who was a woman by day and a mouse by night. I believeyou are bewitched! So I wish your mouseship a good night. " And shedescended the creaking stair, singing, "Mrs. Mouse, are you within?"

till even her stentorian voice was lost in distance. Poor Becky's heartdied with the retreating sounds, and only revived to beat time with theworm in the wood. Long and eerie was the night, as she gave herself upto all the horrors of a superstitious mind--ghosts, gray, black, andwhite, flitted around her couch; cats, half human, held her throat; thedeathwatch ticked in her ears. At length the light of morning shed itsbrightening influence on the dim opaque of her understanding; and whenall things stood disclosed in light, she shut her eyes and oped hermouth in all the blissfulness of security. The light of day was indeedfavourable for displaying to advantage the beauties of LochmarlieCastle, which owed more to nature than art. It was beautifully situatedon a smooth green bank, that rose somewhat abruptly from the lake, andcommanded a view, which, if not extensive, was yet full of variety andgrandeur. 

Its venerable turrets reared themselves above the trees which seemedcoeval with them; and the vast magnificence of its wide-spreading lawnsand extensive forests seemed to appertain to some feudal prince's loftydomain. But in vain were creation's charms spread before Lady Juliana'seyes. Woods and mountains and lakes and rivers were odious things; andher heart panted for dusty squares and suffocating drawing-rooms. 

Something was said of departing by the sisters when the party met atbreakfast; but this was immediately negatived in the most decided mannerby their hostess. 

"Since you have taken your own time to come, my dears, you must takemine to go. Thursday was the day I invited you for, or at least wantedyou for, so you must stay Thursday, and go away on Friday, and myblessing go with you--humph!"

The sisters, charmed with what they termed the hospitality andfriendship of this invitation, delightedly agreed to remain; and asthings were at least conducted in better style there than at Glenfern, uncomfortable as it was, Lady Juliana found herself somewhat nearer homethere than at the family chateau. Lady Maclaughlan, who _could _becommonly civil in her own house, was at some pains to amuse her guest byshowing her collection of china and cabinet of gems, both of which wereremarkably fine. There was also a library, and a gallery, containingsome good pictures, and, what Lady Juliana prized still more, a billiardtable. Thursday, the destined day, at length arrived, and a large partyassembled to dinner. Lady Juliana, as she half reclined on a sofa, surveyed the company with a supercilious stare, and without deigning totake any part in the general conversation that went on. It was enoughthat they spoke with a peculiar accent--everything they said must bebarbarous; but she was pleased once more to eat off plate, and to findherself in rooms which, though grotesque and comfortless, yet wore anair of state, and whose vastness enabled her to keep aloof from thosewith whom she never willingly came in contact. It was therefore withregret she saw the day of her departure arrive, and found herself oncemore an unwilling inmate of her only asylum; particularly as hersituation now required comforts and indulgences which it was thereimpossible to procure. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

 "No mother's care Shielded my infant innocence with prayer: * * * * * Mother, miscall'd, farewell!"

 Savage. 

THE happy period, so long and anxiously anticipated by the ladies ofGlenfern, at length arrived and Lady Juliana presented to the house ofDouglas--not, alas! the ardently-desired heir to its ancientconsequence, but twin-daughters, who could only be regarded asadditional burdens on its poverty. 

The old gentleman's disappointment was excessive; and, as he paced upand down the parlour, with his hands in his pockets, he muttered, "Twalasses! I ne'er heard tell o' the like o't. I wonder whar their tochersare to come frae?"

Miss Grizzy, in great perturbation, declared it certainly was a greatpity it had so happened, but these things couldn't be helped; she wassure Lady Maclaughlan would be greatly surprised. 

Miss Jacky saw no cause for regret, and promised herself an endlesssource of delight in forming the minds and training the ideas of herinfant nieces. 

Miss Nicky wondered how they were to be nursed. She was afraid LadyJuliana would not be able for both, and wet-nurses had such stomachs!

Henry, meanwhile, whose love had all revived in anxiety for the safety, and anguish for the sufferings of his youthful partner, had hastened toher apartment, and, kneeling by her side, he pressed her hands to hislips with feelings of the deepest emotion. 

"Dearer--a thousand times dearer to me than ever, " whispered he, as hefondly embraced her, "and those sweet pledges of our love!"

"Ah, don't mention them, " interrupted his lady in a languid tone. "Howvery provoking! I hate girls so--and two of them--oh!" and she sigheddeeply. Her husband sighed too; but from a different cause. The nursenow appeared, and approached with her helpless charges; and bothparents, for the first time looked on their own offspring. 

"What nice little creatures!" said the delighted father, as, taking themin his arms, he imprinted the first kiss on the innocent faces of hisdaughters, and then held them to their mother; who, turning from themwith disgust, exclaimed, "How can you kiss them, Harry? They are sougly, and they squall so! Oh do, for heaven's sake, take them away! Andsee, there is poor Psyche quite wretched at being so long away from me. Pray, put her on the bed. "

"She will grow fond of her babies by-and-by, " said poor Henry tohimself, as he quitted the apartment, with feelings very different fromthose with which he entered it. 

At the pressing solicitations of her husband, the fashionable motherwas prevailed upon to attempt nursing one of her poor starving infants;but the first trial proved also the last, as she declared nothing uponearth should ever induce her to perform so odious an office; and asHenry's entreaties and her aunts' remonstrances served alike to irritateand agitate her, the contest was, by the advice of her medicalattendant, completely given up. A wet-nurse was therefore procured; butas she refused to undertake both children, and the old gentleman wouldnot hear of having two such encumbrances in his family, it was settled, to the unspeakable delight of the maiden sisters, that the youngestshould be entrusted entirely to their management, and brought up byhand. 

The consequence was such as might have been foreseen. The child, whowas naturally weak and delicate at its birth, daily lost a portion ofits little strength, while its continued cries declared the intensity ofits sufferings, though they produced no other effect on its unfeelingmother than her having it removed to a more distant apartment, as shecould not endure to hear the cross little thing scream so for nothing. On the other hand, the more favoured twin, who was from its birth aremarkably strong lively infant, and met with all justice from itsnurse, throve apace, and was pronounced by her to be the very picture ofthe _bonnie leddie, its mamma, _ and then, with all the low cunning ofher kind, she would launch forth into panegyrics of its beauty, andprophecies of the great dignities and honours that would one day beshowered upon it; until, by her fawning and flattery, she succeeded inexciting a degree of interest, which nature had not secured for it inthe mother's breast. 

Things were in this situation when, at the end of three weeks, Mr. AndMrs. Douglas arrived to offer their congratulations on the birth of thetwins. Lady Juliana received her sister-in-law in her apartment, whichshe had not yet quitted, and replied to her congratulations only byquerulous complaints and childish murmurs. 

"I am sure you are very happy in not having children, " continued she, asthe cries of the little sufferer reached her ear; "I hope to goodness Ishall never have any more. I wonder if anybody ever had twin daughtersbefore, and I, too, who hate girls so!"

Mrs Douglas, disgusted with her unfeeling folly, knew not what to reply, and a pause ensued; but afresh burst of cries from the unfortunate babyagain called forth its mother's indignation. 

"I wish to goodness that child was gagged, " cried she, holding her handsto her ears. "It has done nothing but scream since the hour it was born, and it makes me quite sick to hear it. "

"Poor little dear!" said Mrs. Douglas compassionately, "it appears tosuffer a great deal. "

"Suffer!" repeated her sister-in-law; "what can it suffer? I am sure itmeets with a great deal attention than any person in the house. Thesethree old women do nothing but feed it from morning to night, witheverything they can think of, and make such a fuss about it!"

"I suspect, my dear sister, you would be very sorry for yourself, "said Mrs. Douglas, with a smile, "were you to endure the sametreatment as your poor baby; stuffed with improper food and loathsomedrugs, and bandied about from one person to another. "

"You may say what you please, " retorted Lady Juliana pettishly; "but Iknow it's nothing but ill temper: nurse says so too; and it is so uglywith constantly crying that I cannot bear to look at it;" and she turnedaway her head as Miss Jacky entered red with the little culprit in herarms, which she was vainly endeavouring to _talk _into silence, whileshe dandled it in the most awkward _maiden-like_ manner imaginable. 

"Good heavens! what a fright!" exclaimed the tender parent, as her childwas held up to her. "Why, it is much less than when it was born, an itsskin is as yellow as saffron, and it squints! Only look what adifference, " as the nurse advanced and ostentatiously displayed hercharge, who had just waked out of a long sleep; its checks flushed withheat; its skin completely filled up; and its large eyes rolling underits already dark eyelashes. 

"The bonny wean's just her mamma's pickter, " drawled out the nurse, "butthe wee missy's uncolike her aunties. "

"Take her away, " cried Lady Juliana in a tone of despair; "I wish Icould send her out of my hearing altogether, for her noise will be thedeath of me. "

"Alas! what would I give to hear the blessed sound of a living child!"exclaimed Mrs. Douglas, taking the infant in her arms. "And how greatwould be my happiness could I call the poor rejected one mine!"

"I'm sure you are welcome to my share of the little plague, " said hersister-in-law, with a laugh, "if you can prevail upon Harry to give uphis. "

"I would give up a great deal could my poor child find a mother, "replied her husband, who just then entered. 

"My dear brother!" cried Mrs. Douglas, her eyes beaming with delight, "do you then confirm Lady Juliana's kind promise? Indeed I will be amother to your dear baby, and love her as if she were my own; and in amonth--oh! in much less time--you shall see her as stout as her sister. "

Henry sighed, as he thought, "'Why has not my poor babe such a mother ofits own?" Then thanking his sister-in-law for her generous intentions, he reminded her that she must consult her husband, as few men liked tobe troubled with any children but their own. 

"You are in the right, " said Mrs. Douglas, blushing at the impetuosityof feeling which had made her forget for an instant the deference due toher band; "I shall instantly ask his permission, and he is so indulgentto all my wishes that I have little doubt of obtaining his consent;"and, with the child in her arms, she hastened to her husband, and madeknown her request. 

Mr. Douglas received the proposal with considerable coolness; wonderingwhat his wife could see in such an ugly squalling thing to plagueherself about it. If it had been a boy, old enough to speak and runabout, there might be some amusement in it; but he could not see the useof a squalling sickly infant--and a girl too!

His wife sighed deeply, and the tears stole down her cheeks as shelooked on the wan visage and closed eyes of the little sufferer. "Godhelp the, poor baby?" said she mournfully; "you are rejected on allhands, but your misery will soon be at a end;" and she was slowlyleaving the room with her helpless charge when her husband, touched atthe sight of her distress, though the feeling that caused it he did notcomprehend, called to her, "I am sure, Alicia, if you really wish totake charge of the infant I have no objections; only I think you willfind it la great plague, and the mother is such a fool"

"Worse than a fool, " said Mrs. Douglas indignantly, "for she hates andabjures this her poor unoffending babe"

"Does she so?" cried Mr. Douglas, every kindling feeling roused withinhim at the idea of his blood being hated and abjured; "then, hang me! ifshe shall have any child of Harry's to hate as long as I have a house toshelter it and a sixpence to bestow upon it, " taking the infant in hisarms, and kindly kissing it. 

Mrs. Douglas smiled through her tears as she embraced her husband, andpraised his goodness and generosity; then, full of exultation anddelight, she flew to impart the success of her mission to the parents ofher _protégée. _

Great was the surprise of the maiden nurses at finding they were tobe bereft of their little charge. 

"I declare, I think the child is doing as well as possible, " said MissGrizzy. "To be sure it does yammer constantly--that can't be denied; andit is uncommonly small--nobody can dispute that. At the same time, I amsure, I can't tell what makes it cry, for I've given it two colicpowders every day, and a tea-spoonful of Lady Maclaughlan's carminativeevery three hours. "

"And I've done nothing but make water-gruel and chop rusks for it, "quoth Miss Nicky, "and yet it is never satisfied; I wonder what it wouldbe at. "

"I know perfectly well what it would be at, " said Miss Jacky, with anair of importance. "All this crying and screaming is for nothing elsebut a nurse; but it ought not to be indulged. There is no end ofindulging the desires, and 'tis amazing how cunning children are, andhow soon they know how to take advantage of people's weakness, " glancingan eye of fire at Mrs. Douglas. "Were that my child, I would feed her onbread and water before I would humour her fancies. A pretty lesson, indeed! if she's to have her own way before she's a month old. "

Mrs. Douglas knew that it was in vain to attempt arguing with her aunts. She therefore allowed them to wonder and declaim over their suckingpots, colic powders, and other instruments of torture, while she sent tothe wife of one of her tenants who had lately lain-in, and who wishedfor the situation of nurse, appointing her to be at Lochmarlie thefollowing day. Having made her arrangements, and collected the scantyportion of clothing Mrs. Nurse chose to allow, Mrs. Douglas repaired toher sister-in-law's apartment, with her little charge in her arms. Shefound her still in bed, and surrounded with her favourites. 

"So you really are going to torment yourself with that littlescreech-owl?" said she. "Well, I must say it's very good of you; but Iam afraid you will soon tire of her. Children are such plagues! Are theynot, my darling?" added she, kissing her pug. 

"You will not say so when you have seen my little girl a month hence, "said Mrs. Douglas, trying to conceal her disgust for Henry's sake, whohad just then entered the room. "She has promised me never to cry anymore; so give her a kiss, and let us be gone. "

The high-bred mother slightly touched the cheek of her sleeping babe, extended her finger to her sister-in-law, and carelessly bidding themgood-bye, returned to her pillow and her pugs. 

Henry accompanied Mrs. Douglas to the carriage, and before they partedhe promised his brother to ride over to Lochmarlie in a few days. Hesaid nothing of his child, but his glistening eye and the warm pressureof his hand spoke volumes to the kind heart of his brother, who assuredhim that Alicia would be very good to his little girl, and that he wassure she would get quite well when she got a nurse. The carriage droveoff, and Henry, with a heavy spirit, returned to the house to listen tohis father's lectures, his aunts' ejaculations, and his wife's murmurs. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

 "We may boldly spend upon the hope of what Is to come in. "

 _Henry IV_. 

THE birth of twin daughters awakened the young father to a stillstronger sense of the total dependence and extreme helplessness of hiscondition. Yet how to remedy it he knew not. To accept of his father'sproposal was out of the question, and it was equally impossible for him, were he ever so inclined, to remain much longer a burden on the narrowincome of the Laird of Glenfern. One alternative only remained, whichwas to address the friend and patron of his youth, General Cameron; andto him he therefore wrote, describing all the misery of his situation, and imploring his forgiveness and assistance. "The old General's passionmust have cooled by this time, " thought he to himself, as he sealed theletter, "and as he has often overlooked former scrapes, I think, afterall, he will help me out of this greatest one of all. "

For once Henry was not mistaken. He received an answer to his letter, inwhich the General, after execrating his folly in marrying a lady ofquality, swearing at the birth of his twin daughters, and giving himsome wholesome counsel as to his future mode of life, concluded byinforming him that he had got him reinstated in his former rank in thearmy; that he should settle seven hundred per annum on him till he sawhow matters were conducted, and, in the meantime, enclosed a draught forfour hundred pounds, to open the campaign. 

Though this was not, according to Henry's notions, "coming downhandsomely, " still it was better than not coming down at all, and with amixture of delight and disappointment he flew to communicate the tidingsto Lady Juliana. 

"Seven hundred pounds a year!" exclaimed she, in raptures: "Heavens!what a quantity of money! why, we shall be quite rich, and I shall havesuch a beautiful house, and such pretty carriages, and give suchparties, and buy so many fine things. Oh dear, how happy I shall be!"

"You know little of money, Julia, if you think seven hundred pounds willdo all that, " replied her husband gravely. "I hardly think we can afforda house in town; but we may have a pretty cottage at Richmond orTwickenham, and I can keep a curricle, and drive you about, you know;and we may give famous good dinners. "

A dispute here ensued; her ladyship hated cottages and curricles andgood dinners as much as her husband despised fancy balls, opera boxes, and chariots. 

The fact was that the one knew very nearly as much of the real value ofmoney as the other, and Henry's _sober_ scheme was just as practicableas his wife's extravagant one. 

Brought up in the luxurious profusion of great house; accustomed toissue her orders and have them obeyed, Lady Juliana, at the time shemarried, was in the most blissful state of ignorance respecting thevalue of pounds, shillings, and pence. Her maid took care to have herwardrobe supplied with all things needful, and when she wanted a newdress or a fashionable jewel, it was only driving to Madame D. 's, or Mr. Y. 's, and desiring the article to be sent to herself, while the billwent to her papa. 

From never seeing money in its own vulgar form, Lady Juliana had learnedto consider it as a mere nominal thing; while, on the other hand, herhusband, from seeing too much of it, had formed almost equally erroneousideas of its powers. By the mistake kindness of General Cameron he hadbeen indulged in all the fashionable follies of the day, and allowed touse his patron's ample fortune as if it had already been his own; norwas it until he found himself a prisoner at Glenfern from want of moneythat he had ever attached the smallest importance to it. In short, boththe husband and wife had been accustomed to look upon it in the samelight as the air they breathed. They knew it essential to life, andconcluded that it would come some way or other; either from the east orwest, north or south. As for the vulgar concerns of meat and drink, servants' wages, taxes, and so forth, they never found a place in thecalculations of either. Birthday dresses, fetes, operas, equipages, andstate liveries whirled in rapid succession through Lady Juliana's brain, while clubs, curricles, horses, and claret, took possession of herhusband's mind. 

However much they differed in the proposed modes of showing off inLondon, both agreed perfectly in the necessity of going there, and Henrytherefore hastened to inform his father of the change in hiscircumstances, and apprise him of his intention of immediately joininghis regiment, the ---- Guards. 

"Seven hunder pound a year!" exclaimed the old gentleman; "Seven hunderpound! O' what can ye mak' o' a' that siller? Ye'll surely lay by thehalf o't to tocher your bairns. Seven hunder pound a year for doingnaething!"

Miss Jacky was afraid, unless they got some person of sense (which wouldnot be an easy matter) to take the management of it, it would perhaps befound little enough in the long-run. 

Miss Grlzzy declared it was a very handsome income, nobody could disputethat; at the same time, everybody must allow that the money could nothave been better bestowed. 

Miss Nicky observed "there was a great deal of good eating and drinkingin seven hundred a year, if people knew how to manage it. "

All was bustle and preparation throughout Glenfern Castle, and the youngladies' good-natured activity and muscular powers were again inrequisition to collect the wardrobe, and pack the trunks, imperial, etc. , of their noble sister. 

Glenfern remarked "that fules war fond o' flitting, for they seemed gladto leave the good quarters they were in. "

Miss Grizzy declared there was a great excuse for their being glad, poorthings! young people were always so fond of a change; at the same time, nobody could deny but that it would have been quite natural for them tofeel sorry too. 

Miss Jacky was astonished how any person's mind could be so callous asto think of leaving Glenfern without emotion. 

Miss Nicky wondered what was to become of the christening cake shehad ordered from Perth; it might be as old as the hills before therewould be another child born amongst them. 

The Misses were ready to weep at the disappointment of thedreaming-bread. 

In the midst of all this agitation, mental and bodily, thelong-looked-for moment arrived. The carriage drove round ready packedand loaded, and, absolutely screaming with delight, Lady Juliana spranginto it. As she nodded and kissed her hand to the assembled group, sheimpatiently called to Henry to follow. His adieus were, however, notquite so tonish as those of his high-bred lady, for he went duly andseverally through all the evolutions of kissing, embracing, shaking ofhands, and promises to write; then taking his station by the side of thenurse and child--the rest of the carriage being completely filled by thefavourites--he bade a long farewell to his paternal halls and the landof his birth. 

CHAPTER XX. 

 "For trifles why should I displease The man I love? For trifles such as these To serious mischiefs lead the man I love. "

 HORACE. 

BRIGHT prospects of future happiness and endless plans of expensefloated through Lady Juliana's brain, and kept her temper in some degreeof serenity during the journey. 

Arrived in London, she expressed herself enraptured at being once morein a civilised country, and restored to the society of human creatures. An elegant house and suitable establishment were immediately provided;and a thousand dear friends, who had completely forgotten her existence, were now eager to welcome her to her former haunts, and lead herthoughtless and willing steps in the paths of dissipation andextravagance. 

Soon after their arrival they were visited by General Cameron. It wastwo o'clock, yet Lady Juliana had not appeared; and Henry, half-stretched upon a sofa, was dawdling over his breakfast withhalf-a-dozen newspapers scattered round. 

The first salutations over, the General demanded, "Am I not to befavoured with a sight of your lady? Is she afraid that I am one of yourcountry relations, and taken her flight from the breakfast-table inconsequence?"

"She has not yet made her appearance, " replied Douglas; "but I will lether know you are here. I am sure she will be happy to make acquaintancewith one to whom I am so much indebted. "

A message was despatched to Lady Juliana, who returned for answer thatshe would be down immediately. Three quarters of an hour, however, elapsed; and the General, provoked with this inattention andaffectation, was preparing to depart when the Lady made her appearance. 

"Juliana, my love, " said her husband, "let me present you to GeneralCameron--the generous friend who has acted the part of a father towardsme, and to whom you owe all the comforts you enjoy. "

Lady Juliana slightly bowed with careless ease, and half uttered a"How d'ye do?--very happy indeed, " as she glided on to pull the bell forbreakfast. "Cupid, Cupid!" cried she to the dog, who had flown upon theGeneral, and was barking most vehemently. "Poor darling Cupid! are youalmost starved to death? Harry, do give him that muffin on yourplate. "

"You are very late to-day, my love, " cried the mortifiedhusband. 

"I have been pestered for the last hour with Duval and the courtdresses, and I could not fix on what I should like. "

"I think you might have deferred the ceremony of choosing to anotheropportunity. General Cameron has been here above an hour. "

"Dear! I hope you did not wait for me. I shall be quite shocked!"drawled out her ladyship in a tone denoting how very indifferent theanswer would be to her. 

"I beg your ladyship would be under no uneasiness on that account, "replied the General in an ironical tone, which, though lost upon her, was obvious enough to Henry. 

"Have you breakfasted?" asked Lady Juliana, exerting herself to bepolite. 

"Absurd, my love!" cried her husband. "Do you suppose I should haveallowed the General to wait for that too all this time, if he had notbreakfasted many hours ago?"

"How cross you are this morning, my Harry! I protest my Cupidon is quiteashamed of your _grossièreté! "_

A servant now entered to say Mr. Shagg was come to know her ladyship'sfinal decision about the hammer-cloths; and the new footman was come tobe engaged; and the china merchant was below. 

"Send up one of them at a time; and as to the footman, you may say I'llhave him at once, " said Lady Juliana. 

"I thought you had engaged Mrs. D. 's footman last week. She gave himthe best character, did she not?" asked her husband. 

"Oh yes! his character was good enough; but he was a horrid cheat forall that. He called himself five feet nine, and when he was measured heturned out to be only five feet seven and a half. "

"Pshaw!" exclaimed Henry angrily. "What the devil did that signify ifthe man had a good character?"

"How absurdly you talk, Harry, as if a man's character signified who hasnothing to do but to stand behind my carriage! A pretty figure he'd madethere beside Thomas, who is at least five feet ten!"

The entrance of Mr. Shagg, bowing and scraping, and laden with cloths, lace, and fringes, interrupted the conversation. 

"Well, Mr. Shagg, " cried Lady Juliana, "what's to be done with thatodious leopard's skin? You must positively take it off my hands. I wouldrather never go in a carriage again as show myself in the Park with thatfrightful thing. "

"Certainly, my Lady, " replied the obsequious Mr. Shagg, "anything yourLadyship pleases; your Ladyship can have any hammer-cloth you like; andI have accordingly brought patterns of the very newest fashions for yourLadyship to make choice. Here are some uncommon elegant articles. At thesame time, my Lady, your Ladyship must be sensible that it is impossiblethat we can take back the leopard's skin. It was not only cut out to fityour Ladyship's coach-box--and consequently your Ladyship understands itwould not fit any other--but the silver feet and crests have also beenaffixed quite ready for use, so that the article is quite lost to us. Iam confident, therefore, that your Ladyship will consider of this, andallow it to be put down in your bill. "

"Put it anywhere but on my coach-box, and don't bore me!" answered LadyJuliana, tossing over all the patterns, and humming a tune. 

"What, " said her husband, "is that the leopard's skin you were ravingabout last week, and your are tired of it before it has been used?"

"And no wonder. Who do you think I saw in the Park yesterday but thatold quiz Lady Denham, just come from the country, with her frightful oldcoach set off with a hammer-cloth precisely like the one I had ordered. Only fancy people saying, Lady Denham sets the fashion for Lady JulianaDouglas!! Oh, there's confusion and despair in the thought!"

Confusion, at least, if not despair, was painted in Henry's face as hesaw the General's glance directed alternately with contempt at LadyJuliana, and at himself, mingled with pity. He continued to fidget aboutin all directions, while Lady Juliana talked nonsense to Mr. Shagg, andwondered if the General never meant to go away. But he calmly kept hisground till the man was dismissed, and another introduced, loaded withchina jars, monsters, and distorted teapots, for the capricious fairone's choice and approbation. 

"Beg ten thousand pardons, my Lady, for not calling yesterday, accordingto appointment--quite an unforeseen impediment. The Countess ofGodolphin had somehow got private intelligence that I had a set of freshcommodities just cleared from the custom house, and well knowing suchthings are not long in hand, her La'ship came up from the country onpurpose--the Countess has so much taste!--she drove straight to mywarehouse, and kept me a close prisoner till after your La'ship's hour;but I hope it may not be taken amiss, seeing that it is not a customarything with us to be calling on customers, not to mention that this lineof goods is not easily transported about. However, I flatter myself thearticles now brought for your Ladyship's inspection will not be foundbeneath your notice. Please to observe this choice piece--it representsa Chinese cripple squat on the ground, with his legs crossed. YourLadyship may observe the head and chin advanced forwards, as in the actof begging. The tea pours from the open mouth; and, till your Ladyshiptries, you can have no idea of the elegant effect it produces. "

"That is really droll, " cried Lady Juliana, with a laugh of delight;"and I must have the dear sick beggar; he is so deliciously hideous. "

"And here, " continued Mr. Brittle, "is an amazing delicate article, inthe way of a jewel--a frog of Turkish agate for burning pastiles in, myLady; just such as they use in the seraglio; and indeed this one I maycall invaluable, for it was the favourite toy of one of the widowedSultanas till she grew devout and gave up perfumes. One of her slavesdisposed of it to my foreign partner. Here it opens at the tail, whereyou put in the pastiles, and closing it up, the vapour issuesbeautifully through the nostrils, eyes, ears, and mouth, all at once. Here, sir, " turning to Douglas, "if you are curious in new workmanship, I would have you examine this. I defy any jeweller in London to come upto the fineness of these hinges, and delicacy of the carving---"

"Pshaw, damn it!" said Douglas, turning away, and addressing some remarkto the General, who was provokingly attentive to everything that wenton. 

"Here, " continued Mr. Brittle, "are a set of jars, teapots, mandarins, sea-monsters, and pug-dogs, all of superior beauty, but such as yourLadyship may have seen before. "

"Oh, the dear, dear little puggies! I must have them to amuse my owndarlings. I protest here is one the image of Psyche; positively I mustkiss it!"

"Oh dear! I am sure, " cried Mr. Brittle, simpering, and making aconceited bow, "your Ladyship does it and me too much honour. But here, as I was going to say, is the phoenix of all porcelain ware--the _neplus ultra_ of perfection--what I have kept in my backroom, concealedfrom all eyes, until your Ladyship shall pronounce upon it. Somehow oneof my shopmen got word of it, and told her Grace of L----- (who has apretty taste in these things for a young lady) that I had someparticular choice article that I was keeping for a lady that was afavourite of mine. Her Grace was in the shop the matter of a full hourand a half, trying to wheedle me out of a sight of this rare piece; andI, pretending not to know what her Grace would be after, butshowing her thing after thing, to put it out of her head. But she wasnot so easily bubbled, and at last went away ill enough pleased. Now, myLady, prepare all your eyes. " He then went to the door, and returned, carrying with difficulty a large basket, which till then had been keptby one of his satellites. After removing coverings of all descriptions, an uncouth group of monstrous size was displayed, which, oninvestigation, appeared to be a serpent coiled in regular folds roundthe body of a tiger placed on end; and the whole structure, which wasintended for a vessel of some kind, was formed of the celebrated greenmottled china, invaluable to connoisseurs. 

"View that well, " exclaimed Mr. Brittle, in a transport of enthusiasm, "for such a specimen not one of half the size has ever been imported toEurope. There is a long story about this my phoenix, as I call it; but, to be brief, it was secretly procured from one of the temples, where, gigantic as it may seem, and uncouth for the purpose, it was the idol'sprincipal teapot!"

"Oh delicious!" cried Lady Juliana, clasping her hands in ecstasy. "Iwill give a party for the sole purpose of drinking tea out of thismachine; and I will have the whole room fitted up like an Indian temple. Oh! it will be so new! I die to send out my cards. The Duchess of B-----told me the other day, with such a triumphant air, when I was looking ather two little green jars, not a quarter the size of this, that therewas not a bit more of that china to be had for love or money. Oh, shewill be so provoked!" And she absolutely skipped for joy. 

A loud rap at the door now announcing a visitor, Lady Juliana ran to thebalcony, crying, "Oh, it must be Lady Gerard, for she promised to callearly in the morning, that we might go together to a wonderful sale insome far-off place in the city--at Wapping, for aught I know. Mr. Brittle, Mr. Brittle, for the love of heaven, carry the dragon into theback drawing-room--I purchase it, remember!--make haste!--Lady Gerardis not to get a glimpse of it for the world. "

The servant now entered with a message from Lady Gerard, who would notalight, begging that Lady Juliana would make haste down to her, as theyhad not a moment to lose. She was flying away, without further ceremonythan a "Pray, excuse me, " to the General, when her husband called afterher to know whether the child was gone out, as he wished to show her tothe General. 

"I don't know, indeed, " replied the fashionable mother; "I haven't hadtime to see her to-day;" and, before Douglas could reply she wasdownstairs. 

A pause ensued--the General whistled a quickstep, and Douglas walked upand down the . Room in a pitiable state of mind, guessing pretty muchwhat was passing in the mind of his friend, and fully sensible that itmust be of a severer nature than anything he could yet allow himself tothink of his Juliana. 

"Douglas, " said the General, "have you made any step towards areconciliation with your father-in-law? I believe it will become shortlynecessary for your support. "

"Juliana wrote twice after her marriage, " replied he; "but the receptionwhich her letters met with was not such as to encourage perseverance onour part. With regard to myself, it is not an affair in which delicacywill permit me to be very active, as I might be accused of mercenarymotives, which I am far from having. "

"Oh, of that I acquit you; but surely it ought to be a matter of moment, even to a---Lady Juliana. The case is now altered. Time must haveaccustomed him to the idea of this imaginary affront; and, on my honour, if he thought like a gentleman and a man of sense, I know where he wouldthink the misfortune lay. Nay, don't interrupt me. The old Earl mustnow, I say, have cooled in his resentment; perhaps, too, hisgrandchildren may soften his heart; this must have occurred to you. Hasher Ladyship taken any further steps since her arrival in town?"

"I--I believe she has not; but I will put her in mind. "

"A daughter who requires to have her memory refreshed on such a subjectis likely to make a valuable wife!" said the General drily. 

Douglas felt as if it was incumbent on him to be angry, but remainedsilent. 

"Hark ye, Douglas, " continued the General, "I speak this for yourinterest. You cannot go on without the Earl's help. You know I am not onceremony with you; and if I refrain from saying what you see I thinkabout your present ruinous mode of life, it is not to spare yourfeelings, but from a sense of the uselessness of any such remonstrance. What I do give you is with goodwill; but all my fortune would notsuffice to furnish pug-dogs and deformed teapots for such a vitiatedtaste; and if it would, hang me if it should! But enough on this head. The Earl has been in bad health, and is lately come to town. His son, too, and his lady are to come about the same time, and are to residewith him during the season. I have heard Lord Lindore spoken of as agood-natured easy man, and he would probably enter willingly into anyscheme to reinstate his sister into his father's good graces. Think ofthis, and make what you can of it; and my particular advice to youpersonally is, try to exchange into a marching regiment; for a fellowlike you, with such a wife, London is the very devil! And so goodmorning to you. " He snatched up his hat, and was off in a moment. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

 "To reckon up a thousand of her pranks, Her pride, her wasteful spending, her unkindness, Her scolding, pouting, . . . Were to reap an endless catalogue. "

 _Old Play. _

WHEN Lady Juliana returned from her expedition, it was so late thatDouglas had not time to speak to her; and separate engagements carryingthem different ways, he had no opportunity to do so until the followingmorning at breakfast. He then resolved no longer to defer what he had tosay, and began by reproaching her with the cavalier manner in which shehad behaved to his good friend the General. 

"Upon my life, Harry, you are grown perfectly savage, " cried his Lady. "I was most particularly civil; I wonder what you would have me to do?You know very well I cannot have anything to say to old men of thatsort. "

"I think, " returned Henry, "you might have been gratified by making anacquaintance with my benefactor, and the man to whom you owe theenjoyment of your favourite pleasures. At any rate, you need not havemade yourself ridiculous. May I perish if I did not wish myselfunderground while you were talking nonsense to those sneaking rascalswho wheedle you out of your money! S'death! I had a good mind to throwthem and their trumpery out of the window when I saw you make such afool of yourself. "

"A fool of myself! how foolishly you talk! and as for that vulgar, awkward General, he ought to have been too much flattered. Some of themonsters were so like himself, I am sure he must have thought I tookthem for the love of his round bare pate. "

"Upon my soul, Julia, I am ashamed of you! Do leave off this excessivefolly, and try to be rational. What I particularly wished to say to youis that your father is in town, and it will be proper that you shouldmake another effort to be reconciled to him. "

"I dare say it will, " answered Lady Juliana, with a yawn. 

"And you must lose no time. When will you write?"

"There's no use in writing, or indeed doing anything in the matter. I amsure he won't forgive me. "

"And why not?"

"Oh, why should he do it now? He did not forgive me when I asked himbefore. "

"And do you think, then, for a father's forgiveness it is not worthwhile to have a little perseverance?"

"I am sure he won't do it; so 'tis in vain to try, " repeated she, goingto the glass, and singing, _"Papa non dite di no_, " etc. 

"By heavens, Julia!" cried her husband passionately, "you are past allendurance! Can nothing touch you?--nothing fix your thoughts, and makeyou serious for a single moment? Can I not make you understand that youare ruining yourself and me; that we have nothing to depend upon but thebounty of that man whom you disgust by your caprice, extravagance, andimpertinence; and that if you don't get reconciled to your father whatis to become of you? You already know what you have to expect from myfamily, and how you like living with them. "

"Heavens, Harry!" exclaimed her Ladyship, "what is all this tiradeabout? Is it because I said papa wouldn't forgive me? I'm sure I don'tmind writing to him; I have no objection, the first leisure moment Ihave; but really, in town, one's time is so engrossed. "

At this moment her maid entered in triumph, carrying on her arms a satindress, embroidered with gold and flowers. 

"See, my Lady, " cried she, "your new robe, as Madame has sent home halfa day sooner than her word; and she has disobliged several of thequality by not giving the pattern. "

"Oh, lovely! charming! Spread it out, Gage; hold it to the light; all myown fancy. Only look, Harry; how exquisite! how divine!"

Harry had no time to express his contempt for embroidered robes; forjust then one of his knowing friends came, by appointment, to accompanyhim to Tattersal's, where he was to bid for a famous pair of curriclegrays. 

Days passed on without Lady Juliana's ever thinking it worth while tofollow her husband's advice about applying to her father; until a weekafter, Douglas overheard the following conversation between his wife andone of her acquaintance. 

"You are going to this grand _fete, _ of course, " said Mrs. G. "I'm toldit is to eclipse everything that has been yet seen or heard of. "

"Of what _fete_ do you speak?" demanded Lady Juliana. 

"Lord, my dear creature, how Gothic you are! Don't you know anythingabout this grand affair that everybody has been talking of for two days?Lady Lindore gives, at your father's house, an entertainment which is tobe a concert, ball, and masquerade at once. All London is asked, of anydistinction, _c'a s'entend. _ But, bless me, I beg pardon, I totallyforgot that you were not on the best terms possible in that quarter; butnever mind, we must have you go; there is not a person of fashion thatwill stay away; I must get you asked; I shall petition Lady Lindore inyour favour. "

"Oh pray don't trouble yourself, ", cried Lady Juliana, in extreme pique. "I believe I can get this done without your obliging interference; but Idon't know whether I shall be in town then. "

From this moment Lady Juliana resolved to make a vigorous effort toregain a footing in her father's house. Her first action the nextmorning was to write to her brother, who had hitherto kept aloof, because he could not be at the trouble of having a difference with theEarl, entreating him to use his influence in promoting a reconciliationbetween her father and herself. 

No answer was returned for four days, at the end of which time LadyJuliana received the following note from her brother:--

"DEAR JULIA--I quite agree with you in thinking that you have been keptlong enough in the corner, and shall certainly tell Papa that you areready to become a good girl whenever he shall please to take you out ofit. I shall endeavour to see Douglas and you soon. --Yoursaffectionately, LINDORE. "

"Lady Lindore desires me to say you can have tickets for her ball, ifyou choose to come _en masque. _"

Lady Juliana was delighted with this billet, which she protested waseverything that was kind and generous; but the postscript was the parton which she dwelt with the greatest delight, as she repeatedly declaredit was a great deal more than she expected. "You see, Harry, " said she, as she tossed the note to him, "I was in the right. Papa won't forgiveme; but Lindore says he will send me a ticket for the _fete;_ it isvastly attentive of him, for I did not ask it. But I must go disguised, which is monstrous provoking, for I'm afraid nobody will know me. "

A dispute here ensued. Henry swore she should not steal into herfather's house as long as she was his wife. The lady insisted that sheshould go to her brother's _fete_ when she was invited; and thealtercations ended as altercations commonly do, leaving both partiesmore wedded to their own opinion than at first. 

In the evening Lady Juliana went to a large party; and as she waspassing from one room into another she was startled by a little paperpellet thrown at her. Turning round to look for the offender, she sawher brother standing at a little distance, smiling at her surprise. Thiswas the first time she had seen him for two years, and she went up tohim with an extended hand, while he gave her a familiar nod, and a "Howd'ye do, Julia?" and one finger of his hand, while he turned round tospeak to one of his companions. Nothing could be more characteristic ofboth parties than this fraternal meeting; and from this time they werethe best friends imaginable. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

 "Helas! où donc chercher ou trouver le bonheur, Nulle part tout entier, partout avec mesure!"

 VOLTAIRE. 

SOME days before the expected _fete_ Lady Juliana, at the instigation ofher adviser, Lady Gerard, resolved upon taking the field against theDuchess of L---. Her Grace had issued cards for a concert; and aftermature deliberation it was decided that her rival should strike outsomething new, and announce a christening for the same night. 

The first intimation Douglas had of the honour intended him by thisarrangement was through the medium of the newspaper, for the husband andwife were now much too fashionable to be at all _au fait_ of eachother's schemes. His first emotion was to be extremely surprised; thenext to be exceedingly displeased; and the last to be highly gratifiedat the _éclat_ with which his child was to be made a Christian. True, he had intended requesting the General to act as godfather uponthe occasion; but Lady Juliana protested she would rather the childnever should be christened at all (which already seemed nearly to havebeen the case) than have that cross vulgar-Iooking man to stand sponsor. Her Ladyship, however, so far conceded that the General was to have thehonour of giving his name to the next, if a boy, for she was now nearher second confinement; and, with this promise Henry was satisfied toslight the only being in the world to whom he looked for support tohimself and his children. In the utmost delight the fond mother droveaway to consult her confidants upon the name and decorations of thechild, whom she had not even looked at for many days. 

Everything succeeded to admiration. Amid crowds of spectators, inall the pomp of lace and satin, surrounded by princes and peers, andhanded from duchesses to countesses, the twin daughter of Henry Douglas, and the heroine of future story, became a Christian by the names ofAdelaide Julia. 

Some months previous to this event Lady Juliana had received a letterfrom Mrs. Douglas, informing her of the rapid improvement that had takenplace in her little charge, and requesting to know by what name sheshould have her christened; at the same time gently insinuating her wishthat, in compliance with the custom of the country, and as a complimentdue to the family, it should be named after his paternal grandmother. 

Lady Juliana glanced over the first line of the letter, then lookedat the signature, resolved to read the rest as soon as she should havetime to answer it; and in the meantime tossed it into a drawer, amongstold visiting cards and unpaid bills. 

After vainly waiting for an answer, much beyond the accustomed timewhen children are baptized, Mrs. Douglas could no longer refuse toaccede to the desires of the venerable inmates of Glenfern; and about amonth before her favoured sister received her more elegant appellations, the neglected twin was baptized by the name of Mary. 

Mrs. Douglas's letter had been enclosed in the following one from MissGrizzy, and as it had not the good fortune to be perused by the personto whom it was addressed, we deem it but justice to the writer to insertit here:--

 "GLENFERNCASTLE, _July 30th, _ 17--. 

"My DEAREST NIECE, LADY JULIANA--I am Certain, as indeed we all are, that it will Afford your Ladyship and our dear Nephew the greatestPleasure to see this letter Franked by our Worthy and Respectable FriendSir Sampson Maclaughlan, Bart. , especially as it is the First he hasever franked; out of compliment to you, as I assure you he admires youexcessively, as indeed we all do. At the same Time, you will of course, I am sure, Sympathise with us all in the distress Occasioned by themelancholy Death of our late Most Obliging Member, Duncan M'Dunsmuir, Esquire, of Dhunacrag and Auchnagoil, who you never have had thePleasure of seeing. What renders his death Particularly distressing, is, that Lady Maclaughlan is of opinion it was entirely owing to eating Rawoysters, and damp feet. This ought to be a warning to all Young peopleto take care of Wet feet, and Especially eating Raw oysters, which arecertainly Highly dangerous, particularly where there is any Tendency toGout. I hope, my dear Niece, you have got a pair of Stout walking shoes, and that both Henry and you remember to Change your feet after Walking. I am told Raw Oysters are much the fashion in London at present; butwhen this Fatal Event comes to be Known, it will of course Alarm peoplevery much, and put them upon their guard both as to Damp Feet and Rawoysters. Lady Maclaughlan is in High spirits at Sir Sampson's Success, though, at the Same Time, I assure you, she Felt much for the Distressof poor Mr. M'Dunsmuir, and had sent him a Large Box of Pills, and aBottle of Gout Tincture, only two days before he died. This will be agreat Thing for you, and especially for Henry, my dear niece, as SirSampson and Lady Maclaughlan are going to London directly to take hisSeat in Parliament; and she will make a point of Paying you everyattention, and will Matronise you to the play, and any other Publicplaces you may wish to go; as both my Sisters and I are of opinion youare rather Young to matronise yourself yet, and you could not get a moreRespectable Matron than Lady Maclaughlan. I hope Harry wont take itamiss if Sir Sampson does not pay him so much Attention as he mightexpect; but he says that he will not be master of a moment of his ownTime in London. He will be so much taken up with the King and the Dukeof York, that he is afraid he will Disoblige a great Number of theNobility by it, besides injuring his own health by such Constantapplication to business. He is to make a very fine Speech in Parliament, but it is not yet Fixed what his First Motion is to be upon. He himselfwishes to move for a New Subsidy to the Emperor of Germany; but LadyMaclaughlan is of opinion that it would be better to Bring in a Bill forBuilding a bridge over the Water of Dlin; which, tobe sure, is very muchwanted, as a Horse and Cartwere drowned at the Ford last Speat. We areAll, I am happy to Say, in excellent Health. Becky is recovering fromthe Measles as well as could be Wished, and the Rose [1] is quitegone out of Bella's Face. Beennie has been prevented from Finishing amost Beautiful Pair of bottle Sliders for your Ladyship by a whitlow, but it is now Mending, and I hope will be done in Time to go withBabby's Vase Carpet, which is extremely elegant, by Sir S. And LadyMaclaughlan. This Place is in great Beauty at present, and the new Byreis completely finished. My Sisters and I regret Excessively that Henryand you should have seen Glenfern to such disadvantage; but when nextyou favour us with a visit, I hope it will be in Summer, and the NewByre you will think a Prodigious Improvement. Our dear LittleGrand-niece is in great health, and much improved. We reckon herExtremely like our Family, Particularly Becky; though she hasa great Look of Bella, at the Same Time, Then she Laughs. Excuse theShortness of this Letter, my dear Niece, as I shall Write a much Longerone by Lady Maclaughlan. 

[1] Erysipelas. 

"Meantime, I remain, my

"Dear Lady Juliana, yours and

"Henry's most affect. Aunt, "GRIZZEL DOUGLAS. "

In spite of her husband's remonstrance Lady Juliana persisted in herresolution of attending her sister-in-law's masked ball, from which shereturned, worn out with amusement and surfeited with pleasure;protesting all the while she dawdled over her evening breakfast thefollowing day that there was nobody in the world so much to be envied asLady Lindore. Such jewels! such dresses! such a house! such a husband!so easy and good-natured, and rich and generous! She was sure Lindoredid no care what his wife did. She might give what parties she pleased, go where she liked, spend as much money as she chose, and he wouldnever, trouble his head about the matter. She was quite certain LadyLindore had not a single thing to wish for: _ergo, _she must be thehappiest woman in the world! All this was addressed to Henry, who had, however, attained the happy art of not hearing above one word out of ahundred that happened to fall from the angel lips of his adored Julia;and, having finished the newspapers, and made himself acquainted withall the blood-horses, thoroughbred _fillies_, and brood mares thereinset forth, with a yawn and whistle sauntered away to G-----'s, to lookat the last regulation epaulettes. 

Not long after, as Lady Juliana was stepping into the carriage that wasto whirl her to Bond Street she was met by her husband, who, with asolemnity of manner that would have startled anyone but his volatilelady, requested she would return with him into the house, as he wishedto converse with her upon a subject of some importance. He prevailed onher to return, upon condition that he would not detain her above fiveminutes. When, shutting the drawing room doors, he said, withearnestness, "I think, Julia, you were talking of Lady Lindore thismorning: oblige me by repeating what you said, as I was reading thepapers, and really did not attend much to what passed. "

Her Ladyship, in extreme surprise, wondered how Harry could be sotiresome and absurd as to stop her airing for any such purpose. Shereally did not know what she said. How could she? It was more than anhour ago. 

"Well, then, say what you think of her now, " cried Douglas impatiently. 

"Think of her! why, what all the world must think--that she is thehappiest woman in it. She looked so uncommonly well last night, and wasin such spirits, in her fancy dress, before she masked. After that, Iquite lost sight of her. "

"As everyone else has done. She has not been seen since. Her favouriteSt. Leger is missing too, and there is hardly a doubt but that they aregone off together. "

Even Lady Juliana was shocked at this intelligence, though the folly, more than the wickedness, of the thing, seemed to strike her mind; butHenry was no nice observer, and was therefore completely satisfied withthe disapprobation she expressed for her sister-in-law's conduct. 

"I am so sorry for poor dear Lindore, " said Lady Juliana after havingexhausted herself in invectives against his wife. "Such a generouscreature as he to be used in such a manner--it is quite shocking tothink of it! If he had been an ill-natured stingy wretch it would havebeen nothing; but Frederick is such a noble-hearted fellow--I dare sayhe would give me a thousand pounds if I were to ask him, for he don'tcare about money. "

"Lord Lindore takes the matter very coolly, understand, " replied herhusband; "but--don't be alarmed, dear Julia--your father has suffered alittle from the violence of his feelings. He has had a sort ofapoplectic fit, but is not considered in immediate danger. "

Lady Juliana burst into tears, desired the carriage might be put up, asshe should not go out, and even declared her intention of abstainingfrom Mrs. D-----'s assembly that evening. Henry warmly commended theextreme propriety of these measures; and, not to be outdone in greatnessof mind, most heroically sent an apology to a grand military dinner atthe Duke of Y---'s; observing, at the same time, that, in the presentstate of the family, one or two friends to a quiet family dinner was asmuch as they should be up to. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

 "I but purpose to embark with thee On the smooth surface of a summer sea, While gentle zephyrs play in prosp 'rous gales, And Fortune's favour fills the swelling sails. "

 _Henry and Emma. _

How long these voluntary sacrifices to duty and propriety might havebeen made it would mot be difficult to guess; but Lady Juliana'sapproaching confinement rendered her seclusion more and more a matter ofnecessity; and shortly after these events took place she presented herdelighted husband with a son. Henry lost no time in announcing the birthof his child to General Cameron, and at the same time requesting hewould stand godfather, and give his name to the child. The answer was asfollows;--

"HORT LODGE, BERKS. 

"DEAR HENRY--By this time twelve month I hope it will be my turn tocommunicate to you a similar event in my family to that which yourletter announces to me. As a preliminary step, I am just about to marchinto quarters for life with a young woman, daughter to my steward. Sheis healthy, good-humoured, and of course vulgar, since she is noconnoisseur in china, and never spoke to a pug-dog in her life. 

"Your allowance will be remitted regularly from my Banker until the dayof my death; you will then succeed to ten thousand pounds, secured toyour children, which is all you have to expect from me. If, after this, you think it worth your while, you are very welcome to give your son thename of yours faithfully, WILLIAM CAMERON. "

Henry's consternation at the contents of this epistle was almostequalled by Juliana's indignation. "The daughter of a steward!--Heavens!it made her sick to think of it. It was too shocking! Theman ought to be shut up. Henry ought to prevent him from disgracing hisconnexions in such a manner. There ought to be a law against old menmarrying-"

"And young ones too, " groaned Douglas, as he thought of the debts he hadcontracted on the faith and credit of being the General's heir; for withall the sanguine presumption of thoughtless youth and buoyant spirits, Henry had no sooner found his fault forgiven than he immediately fanciedit forgotten, and himself completely restored to favour. His friends andthe world were of the same opinion; and, as the future possessor ofimmense wealth, he found nothing so easy as to borrow money and contractdebts, which he now saw the impossibility of ever discharging. Still heflattered himself the General might only mean to frighten him; or hemight relent; or the marriage might go off; or he might not have anychildren; and, with these _mighty_ hopes, things went on as usual forsome time longer. Lady Juliana, who, to do her justice, was not of amore desponding character than her husband, had also her stock of hopesand expectations always ready to act upon. She was quite sure that ifpapa ever came to his senses (for he had remained in a state ofstupefaction since the apoplectic stroke) he would forgive her, and takeher to live with him, now that that vile Lady Lindore was gone, or, ifhe should never recover, she was equally sure of benefiting by hisdeath; for though he had said he was not to leave her a shilling, shedid not believe it. She was sure papa would never do anything so cruel;and at any rate, if he did, Lindore was so generous, he would dosomething very handsome for her; and so forth. 

At length the bubbles burst. The same paper that stated the marriage ofGeneral William Cameron to Judith Broadcast, Spinster, announced, in allthe dignity of woe, the death of that most revered noble man and eminentstatesman, Augustus, Earl of Courtland. 

In weak minds it has generally been remarked that no medium can bemaintained. Where hope holds her dominion she is too buoyant to beaccompanied by her anchor; and between her and despair there are nogradations. Desperate indeed now became the condition of the misjudgingpair. Lady Juliana's name was not even mentioned in her father's will, and the General's marriage rendered his settlements no longer a secret. In all the horrors of desperation, Henry now found himself daily besetby creditors of every description. At length the fatal blow came. Horses, carriages, everything they could call their own, were seized. The term for which they held the house was expired, and they foundthemselves on the point of being turned into the street, when LadyJuliana, who had been for two days, as her woman expressed it, _out ofone fit into another, _ suddenly recovered strength to signify her desireof being conveyed to her brother's house. A hackney coach was procured, into which the hapless victim of her own follies was carried. Shudderingwith disgust, and accompanied by her children and their attendants, shewas set down at the noble mansion from which she had fled two yearsbefore. 

Her brother, whom she fortunately found at home, lolling upon a sofawith a new novel in his hand, received her without any marks ofsurprise; said those things happened every day; hoped Captain Douglaswould contrive to get himself extricated from this slight embarrassment;and informed his sister that she was welcome to occupy her oldapartments, which had been lately fitted up for Lady Lindore. Thenringing the bell, he desired the housekeeper might show Lady Julianaupstairs, and put the children in the nursery; mentioned that hegenerally dined at eight o'clock; and, nodding to his sister as shequitted the room, returned to his book, as if nothing had occurred todisturb him from it. 

In ten minutes after her entrance into Courtland house Lady Juliana hadmade greater advances in _religion_ and _philosophy_ than she had donein the whole nineteen years of her life; for she not only perceivedthat "out of evil cometh good, " but was perfectly ready to admit that"all is for the best, " and that "whatever is, is right. "

"How lucky is it for me, " exclaimed she to herself, as she surveyed thesplendid suite of apartments that were destined for heraccommodation--"how very fortunate that things have turned out as theyhave done; that Lady Lindore should have run off, and that the General'smarriage should have taken place just at the time of poor papa's death"--and, in short, Lady Juliana set no bounds to her self-gratulations onthe happy turn of affairs which had brought about this change in hersituation. 

To a heart not wholly devoid of feeling, and a mind capable of anythinglike reflection, the desolate appearance of this magnificent mansionwould have excited emotions of a very different nature. The apartmentsof the late Earl, with their wide extended doors and windows, sheetedfurniture, and air of dreary order, exhibited that waste and chillingaspect which marks the chambers of death; and even Lady Julianashuddered, she knew not why, as she passed through them. 

Those of Lady Lindore presented a picture not less striking, could herthoughtless successor have profited by the lesson they offered. Here wasall that the most capricious fancy, the most boundless extravagance, themost refined luxury, could wish for or suggest. The bedchamber, dressing-room, and boudoir were each fitted up in a style that seemedrather suited for the pleasures of an Eastern sultana or Greciancourtesan than for the domestic comfort of a British matron. 

"I wonder how Lady Lindore could find in her heart to leave thisdelicious boudoir, " observed Lady Juliana to the old housekeeper. 

"I rather wonder, my Lady, how she could find in her heart to leavethese pretty babies, " returned the good woman, as a little boy camerunning into the room, calling, "Mamma, mamma!" Lady Juliana hadnothing to say to children beyond a "How d'ye do, love?" and the child, after regarding her for a moment, with a look of disappointment, ranaway back to his nursery. 

When Lady Juliana had fairly settled herself in her new apartments, andthe tumult of delight began to subside, it occurred to her thatsomething must be done for poor Harry, whom she had left in the hands ofa brother officer, in a state little short of distraction. Sheaccordingly went in search of her brother, to request his advice andassistance, and found him, it being nearly dark, preparing to set out onhis morning's ride. Upon hearing the situation of his brother-in-law hedeclared himself ready to assist Mr. Douglas as far as he was able; buthe had just learned from his people of business that his own affairswere somewhat involved. The late Earl had expended enormous sums onpolitical purposes; Lady Lindore had run through a prodigious deal ofmoney, he believed; and he himself had some debts, amounting, he wastold, to seventy thousand pounds. Lady Juliana was all aghast at thisinformation, which was delivered with the most perfect _nonchalance_ bythe Earl, while he amused himself with his Newfoundland dog. Unable toconceal her disappointment at these effects of her brother's "liberalityand generosity, " Lady Juliana burst into tears. 

The Earl's sensibility was akin to his generosity; he gave money (orrather allowed it to be taken) freely when he had it, from indolence andeasiness of temper; he hated the sight of distress in any individual, because it occasioned trouble, and was, in short, a _bore. _He thereforemade haste to relieve his sister's alarm by assuring her that these weremere trifles; that, as for Douglas's affairs, he would order his agentto arrange everything in his name; hoped to have the pleasure of seeinghim at dinner; recommended to his sister to have some pheasant pies forluncheon; and, calling Carlo, set out upon his ride. 

However much Lady Juliana had felt mortified and disappointed atlearning the state of her brother's finances, she began, by degrees, toextract the greatest consolation from the comparative insignificance ofher own debts to those of the Earl; and accordingly, in high spirits atthis newly discovered and judicious source of comfort, she despatchedthe following note to her husband:--

"DEAREST HENRY--I have been received in the kindest mannerimaginable by Frederick, and have been put in possession of my oldapartments, which are so much altered, I should never have known them. They were furnished by Lady Lindore, who really has a divine taste. Ilong to show you all the delights of this abode. Frederick desired me tosay that he expects to see you here at dinner, and that he will takecharge of paying all our bills whenever he gets money. Only think of hisowing a hundred thousand pounds, besides all papa's and Lady Lindore'sdebts! I assure you I was almost ashamed to tell him of ours, theysounded so trifling; but it is quite a relief to find other people somuch worse. Indeed, I always thought it quite natural for us to run indebt, considering that we had no money to pay anything, while Courtland, who is as rich as a Jew, is so hampered. I shall expect you at eight, until when, adieu, _mio caro_, "Your JULIE. 

"I am quite wretched about you. "

This tender and consolatory billet Henry had not the satisfaction ofreceiving, having been arrested, shortly after his wife's departure, atthe suit of Mr. Shagg, for the sum of two thousand some odd hundreds, for carriages jobbed, bought, exchanged, repaired, returned, etc. 

Lady Juliana's horror and dismay at the news of her husband's arrestwere excessive. Her only ideas of confinement were taken from thosepictures of the Bastile and Inquisition that she had read so much of inFrench and German novels; and the idea of a prison was indissolublyunited in her mind with bread and water, chains and straw, dungeons anddarkness. Callous and selfish, therefore, as she might be, she was notyet so wholly void of all natural feeling as to think with indifferenceof the man she had once fondly loved reduced to such a pitiablecondition. 

Almost frantic at the phantom of her own creation, she flew to herbrother's apartment, and, in the wildest and most incoherent manner, besought him to rescue her poor Henry from chains and a dungeon. 

With some difficulty Lord Courtland at length apprehended the extent ofhis brother-in-Iaw's misfortune; and, with his usual _sang froid_, smiled at his sister's simplicity, assured her the King's Bench was thepleasantest place in the world; that some of his own most particularfriends were there, who gave capital dinners, and led the most desirablelives imaginable. 

"And will he really not be fed on bread and water, and wear chains, andsleep upon straw?" asked the tender wife in the utmost surprise anddelight. "Oh, then, he is not so much to be pitied, though I dare say hewould rather get out of prison too. "

The Earl promised to obtain his release the following day, and LadyJuliana returned to her toilet with a much higher opinion of prisonsthan she had ever entertained before. 

Lord Courtland, for once in his life, was punctual to his promise; andeven interested himself so thoroughly in Douglas's affairs, thoughwithout inquiring into any particulars, as to take upon himself thedischarge of his debts, and to procure leave for him to exchange into aregiment of the line, then under orders for India. 

Upon hearing of this arrangement Lady Juliana's grief and despair, asusual, set all reason at defiance. She would not suffer her dear, dearHarry to leave her. She knew she could not live without him; she wassure she should die; and Harry would be sea sick, and grow so yellow andso ugly that when he came back she should never have any comfort in himagain. 

Henry, who had never doubted her readiness to accompany him, immediatelyhastened to assuage her anguish by assuring her that it had always beenhis intention to take her along with him. 

That was worse and worse: she wondered how he could be so barbarous andabsurd as to think of her leaving all her friends and going to liveamongst savages. She had done a great deal in living so long contentedlywith him in Scotland; but she never could nor would make such anothersacrifice. Besides, she was sure poor Courtland could not do withouther; she knew he never would marry again; and who would take care of hisdear children, and educate them properly, if she did not? It would betoo ungrateful to desert Frederick, after all he had done for them. 

The pride of the man, as much as the affection of the husband, wasirritated by this resistance to this will; and a violent scene ofreproach and recrimination terminated in an eternal farewell. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

 "In age, in infancy, from others' aid Is all our hope; to teach us to be kind, That nature's first, last lesson. "

 YOUNG. 

THE neglected daughter of Lady Juliana Douglas experienced all theadvantages naturally to be expected from her change of situation. Herwatchful aunt superintended the years of her infancy, and all that atender and judicious mother _could_ do-all that most mothers _think_they do-she performed. Mrs. Douglas, though not a woman either of wordsor systems, possessed a reflecting mind, and a heart warm withbenevolence towards everything that had a being; and all the bestfeelings of her nature were excited by the little outcast thus abandonedby her unnatural parent. As she pressed the unconscious babe to herbosom she thought how blest she should have been had a child of her ownthus filled her arms; but the reflection called forth no selfish murmursfrom her chastened spirit. While the tear of soft regret trembled in hereye, that eye was yet raised in gratitude to Heaven for having calledforth those delightful affections which might otherwise have slumberedin her heart. 

Mrs. Douglas had read much, and reflected more, and many faultlesstheories of education had floated in her mind. But her good sense soondiscovered how unavailing all theories were whose foundations restedupon the inferred wisdom of the teacher, and how intricate and unwieldymust be the machinery for the human mind where the human hand alone is toguide and uphold it. To engraft into her infant soul the purestprinciples of religion was therefore the chief aim of Mary'spreceptress. The fear of God was the only restraint imposed upon herdawning intellect; and from the Bible alone was she taught the duties ofmorality--not in the form of a dry code of laws, to be read with asolemn face on Sundays, or learned with weeping eyes as a week-daytask--but adapted to her youthful capacity by judicious illustration, and familiarised to her taste by hearing its stories and precepts fromthe lips she best loved. Mrs. Douglas was the friend and confidant ofher pupil: to her all her hopes and fears, wishes and dreads wereconfided; and the first effort of her reason was the discovery that toplease her aunt she must study to please her Maker. 

"L'inutilité de la vie des femmes est la premier source de leursdésordres. "

Mrs. Douglas was fully convinced of the truth of this observation, andthat the mere selfish cares and vulgar bustle of life are not sufficientto satisfy the immortal soul, however they may serve to engross it. 

A portion of Mary's time was therefore devoted to the daily practice ofthe great duties of life; in administering in some shape or other to thewants and misfortunes of her fellow-creatures, without requiring fromthem that their virtue should have been immaculate, or expecting thattheir gratitude should be everlasting. 

"It is better, " thought Mrs. Douglas, "that we should sometimes bedeceived by others than that we should learn to deceive ourselves; andthe charity and goodwill that is suffered to lie dormant, or feed itselfon speculative acts of beneficence, for want of proper objects to callit into use, will soon become the corroding rust that will destroy thebest feelings of our nature. "

But although Mary strenuously applied herself to the uses of life, itsembellishments were by no means neglected. She was happily endowed bynature; and, under the judicious management of her aunt, made rapidthough unostentatious progress in the improvement of the talentscommitted to her care. Without having been blessed with the advantagesof a dancing master, her step was light, and her motions free andgraceful; and if her aunt had not been able to impart to her thefavourite graces of the most fashionable singer of the day, neither hadshe thwarted the efforts of her own natural taste in forming a stylefull of simplicity and feeling. In the modern languages she wasperfectly skilled; and if her drawings wanted the enlivening touches ofthe master to give them effect, as an atonement they displayed a perfectknowledge of the rules of perspective and the study of the bust. 

All this was, however, mere leather and prunella to the ladies ofGlenfern; and many were the cogitations and consultations that tookplace n the subject of Mary's mismanagement. According to their ideasthere could be but one good system of education; and that was the onethat had been pursued with them, and through them transmitted to theirnieces. 

To attend the parish church and remember the text; to observe who wasthere and who was _not_ there; and to wind up the evening with a sermonstuttered and stammered through by one of the girls (the worst readeralways piously selected, for the purpose of improving their reading), anparticularly addressed to the Laird, openly and avowedly snoring in hisarm-chair, though at every pause starting up with a peevish"Weel?"--this was the sum total of their religious duties. Their moralvirtues were much upon the same scale; to knit stockings, scoldservants, cement china, trim bonnets, lecture the poor, and look up toLady Maclaughlan, comprise nearly their whole code. But these were thevirtues of ripened years and enlarged understandings--which their pupilsmight hope to arrive at, but could not presume to meddle with. _Their_merits consisted in being compelled to sew certain large portions ofwhite-work; learning to read and write in the worst manner; occasionally_wearing_ a _collar, _ and learning the notes on the spinnet. Theseacquirements, accompanied with a great deal of lecturing andfault-finding, sufficed for the first fifteen years; when the two next, passed at a provincial boarding-school, were supposed to impart everygraceful accomplishment to which women could attain. 

Mrs. Douglas's method of conveying instruction, it may easily beimagined, did not square with their ideas on that subject. They didnothing themselves without a bustle, and to do a thing quietly was tothem the same as not doing it at all--it could not be done, for nobodyhad ever heard of it. In short, like many other worthy people, theirears were their only organs of intelligence. They believed everythingthey were told; but unless they were told, they believed nothing. Theyhad never heard Mrs. Douglas expatiate on the importance of the trustreposed in her, or enlarge on the difficulties of female education;_ergo, _ Mrs. Douglas could have no idea of the nature of the duties shehad undertaken. 

Their visits to Lochmarlie only served to confirm the fact. Miss Jackydeponed that during the month she was there she never could discoverwhen or how it was that Mary got her lessons; luckily the child wasquick, and had contrived, poor thing, to pick up things wonderfully, nobody knew how, for it was really astonishing to see how little painswere bestowed upon her and the worst of it was, that she seemed to dojust as she liked, for nobody ever heard her reproved, and everybodyknew that young people never could have enough said to them. All thisdiffered widely from the éclat of their system, and could notfail of causing great disquiet to the sisters. 

"I declare I'm quite confounded at all this!" said Miss Grizzy, atthe conclusion of Miss Jacky's communication. "It really appears as ifMary, poor thing, was getting no education at all; and yet she _can_ dothings, too. I can't understand it; and it's very odd in Mrs. Douglas toallow her to be so much neglected, for certainly Mary's constantly withherself; which, to be sure, shows that she is very much spoilt; foralthough our girls are as fond of us as I am sure any creatures can be, yet, at the same time, they are always very glad--which is quitenatural--to runaway from us. "

"I think it's high time Mary had done something fit to be seen, " saidMiss Nicky; "she is now sixteen past. "

"Most girls of Mary's time of life that ever _I_ had anything to dowith, " replied Jacky, with a certain wave of the head, peculiar tosensible women, "had something to show before her age. Bella had workedthe globe long before she was sixteen; and Baby did her filigreetea-caddy the first quarter she was at Miss Macgowk's, " glancing withtriumph from the one which hung over the mantelpiece, to the other whichstood on the tea-table, shrouded in a green bag. 

"And, to be sure, " rejoined Grizzy, "although Betsy's screen did cost agreat deal of money--that can't be denied; and her father certainlygrudged it very much at the time--there's no doubt of that; yetcertainly it does her the greatest credit, and it is a greatsatisfaction to us all to have these things to show. I am sure nobodywould ever think that ass was made of crape, and how naturally it seemsto be eating the beautiful chenille thistle! I declare, I think the assis as like an ass as anything can be!"

"And as to Mary's drawing, " continued the narrator of her deficiencies, "there is not one of them fit for framing: mere scratches with a chalkpencil--what any child might do. "

"And to think, " said Nicky, with indignation, "how little Mrs. Douglasseemed to think of the handsome coloured views the girls did at MissMacgowk's. "

"All our girls have the greatest genius for drawing, " observed Grizzy;"there can be no doubt of that; but it's a thousand pities, I'm sure, that none of them seem to like it. To be sure they say--what I daresayis very true--that they can't get such good paper as they got at MissMacgowk's; but they have showed that they _can _do, for their drawingsare quite astonishing. Somebody lately took them to be Mr. Touchup's owndoing; and I'm sure there couldn't be a greater compliment than that! Irepresented all that to Mrs. Douglas, and urged her very strongly togive Mary the benefit of at least a quarter of Miss Macgowk's, were itonly for the sake of her carriage; or, at least, to make her wear ourcollar. "

This was the tenderest of all themes, and bursts of sorrowfulexclamations ensued. The collar had long been a galling yoke upon theirminds; it iron had entered into their very souls; for it was a collarpresented to the family of Glenfern by the wisest, virtuousest, best ofwomen and of grandmothers, the the good Lady Girnachgowl; and had beenworn in regular rotation by every female of the family till now thatMrs. Douglas positively refused to subject Mary's pliant form to itsthraldom. Even the Laird, albeit no connoisseur in any shapes save thoseof his kine, was of opinion that since the thing was in the house it wasa pity it should be lost. Not Venus's girdle even was supposed to confergreater charms than the Girnachgowl collar. 

"It's really most distressing!" said Miss Grizzy to her friend LadyMaclaughlan. 

"Mary's back won't be worth a farthing, and we have always been quitefamous for our back. "

"Humph!--that's the reason people are always so glad to see them, child. "

With regard to Mary's looks, opinions were not so decided. Mrs. Douglasthought her, what she was, an elegant, interesting-looking girl. TheLaird, as he peered at her over his spectacles, pronounced her to be buta shilpit thing, though weel eneugh, considering the ne'er-do-weels thatwere aught her. Miss Jacky opined that she would have been quite adifferent creature had she been brought her like any other girl. MissGrizzy did not know what to think; she certainly was pretty--nobodycould dispute that. At the same time, many people would prefer Bella'slooks; and Baby was certainly uncommonly comely. Miss Nicky thought itwas no wonder she looked pale sometimes. She never supped her broth in awiselike way at dinner; and it was a shame to hear of a girl of Mary'sage being set up with tea to her breakfast, and wearing white petticoatsin winter--and such roads, too!

Lady Maclaughlan pronounced (and that was next to a special revelation)that the girl would be handsome when she was forty, not a day sooner;and she would be clever, for her mother was a fool; and foolish mothershad always wise children, and _vice versa, _ "and your mother was a veryclever woman, girls--humph!"

Thus passed the early years of the almost forgotten twin; blest in thewarm affection and mild authority of her more than mother. SometimesMrs. Douglas half formed the wish that her beloved pupil should mix insociety and become known to the world; but when she reflected on thedangers of that world, and on the little solid happiness its pleasuresafford, she repressed the wish, and only prayed she might be allowed torest secure in the simple pleasures she then enjoyed. "Happiness is nota plant of this earth, " said she to herself with a sigh; "but God givespeace and tranquillity to the virtuous in all situations, and underevery trial. Let me then strive to make Mary virtuous, and leave therest to Him who alone knoweth what is good for us!"

CHAPTER XXV. 

 "Th' immortal line in sure succession reigns, The fortune of the family remains, And grandsires' grandsons the long list contains. "

 DRYDEN'S _Virgil. _

 "We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. "

 _Tempest. _

BUT Mary's back and Mary's complexion now ceased to be the first objectsof interest at! Glenfern; for, to the inexpressible delight andamazement of the sisters, Mrs. Douglas, after due warning, became themother of a son. How this event had been brought about without theintervention of Lady Maclaughlan was past the powers of Miss Grizzy'scomprehension. To the last moment they had been sceptical, for LadyMaclaughlan had shook her head and humphed whenever the subject wasmentioned. For several months they had therefore vibrated between theirown sanguine hopes and their oracle's disheartening doubts; and evenwhen the truth was manifest, a sort of vague tremor took possession oftheir mind, as to what Lady Maclaughlan would think of it. 

"I declare I don't very well know how to announce this happy event toLady Maclaughlan, " said Miss Grizzy, as she sat in a ruminating posture, with her pen in her hand; "it will give her the greatest pleasure, Iknow that; she has such a regard for our family, she would go anylengths for us. At the same time, everybody must be sensible it is adelicate matter to tell a person of Lady Maclaughlan's skill they havebeen mistaken. I'm sure I don't know how she may take it: and yet shecan't suppose it will make any difference in our sentiments for her. Shemust be sensible we have all the greatest respect for her opinion. "

"The wisest people are sometimes mistaken, " observed Miss Jacky. 

"I'm sure, Jacky, that's very true, " said Grizzy, brightening up at thebrilliancy of this remark. 

"And it's better she should have been mistaken than Mrs. Douglas, "followed up Miss Nicky. 

"I declare, Nicky, you are perfectly right; and I shall just say soat once to Lady Maclaughlan. "

The epistle was forthwith commenced by the enlightened Grizelda. MissJoan applied herself to the study of "The Whole Duty of Man, " which shewas, determined to make herself mistress of for the benefit of hergrand-nephew; and Miss Nicholas fell to reckoning all who could, would, or should be at the christening, that she might calculate upon thequantity of _dreaming-bread_ that would be required. The younger ladieswere busily engaged in divers and sundry disputes regarding the right tosuccession to a once-white lutestring negligee of their mother's, whichthree of them had laid their accounts with figuring in at theapproaching celebration. The old gentleman was the only one in thefamily who took the least of the general happiness. He had got into ahabit of being fretted about everything that happened, and he could notentirely divest himself of it even upon this occasion. His parsimoniousturns, too, had considerably increased; and his only criterion ofjudging of anything was according to what it would bring. 

"Sorra tak me if ane wadnae think, to hear ye, this was the first bairnthat e'er was born! 'What'sa' the fraize aboot, ye gowks?" (to hisdaughters)--"a whingin get! that'll tak mail' oot o' fowk's pocketsthan e'er it'll pit into them! Mony a guid profitable beast's beenbrought into the warld and ne'er a word in in'ts heed. "

All went on smoothly. Lady Maclaughlan testified no resentment. MissJacky had the "The Whole Duty of Man" at her finger-ends; and Miss Nickywas not more severe than could have been expected, considering, as shedid, how the servants at Lochmarlie must be living at hack and manger. It had been decided at Glenfern that the infant heir to its consequencecould not with propriety be christened any where but at the seat of hisforefathers. Mr. And Mrs. Douglas had good-humouredly yielded thepoint; and, as soon as she was able for the change, the whole familytook up their residence for a season under the paternal roof. 

Blissful visions floated around the pillows of the happy spinsters thenight preceding the christening, which were duly detailed at thebreakfast-table the following morning. 

"I declare I don't know what to think of my dream, " began Miss Grizzy. "I dreamt that Lady Maclaughlan was upon her knees to you, brother, toget you to take an emetic; and just as she had mixed it up so nicely insome of our black-currant jelly, little Norman snatched it out of yourhand and ran away with it. "

"You're eneugh to turn onybody's stamick wi'your nonsense, " returnedthe Laird gruffly. 

"And I, " said Miss Jacky, "thought I saw you standing in your shirt, brother, as straight as a rash, and good Lady Girnachgowl buckling hercollar upon you with her own hands. "

"I wish ye wadna deive me wi' your havels!" still more indignantly, andturning his shoulder to the fair dreamer, as he continued to con overthe newspaper. 

"And I, " cried Miss Nicky, eager to get her mystic tale disclosed, "Ithought, brother, I saw you take and throw all the good dreaming-breadinto the ash-hole. "

"By my troth, an' ye deserve to be thrown after't!" exclaimed theexasperated Laird, as he quitted the room in high wrath, muttering tohimself, "Hard case--canna get peace--eat my vittals--fules--tawpiesclavers!" etc. Etc. 

"I declare I can't conceive why Glenfern should be so ill pleased at ourdreams, " said Miss Grizzy. "Everybody knows dreams are always contrary;and even were it otherwise, I'm sure I should think no shame to take anemetic, especially when Lady Maclaughlan was at the trouble of mixing itup so nicely. "

"And we have all worn good Lady Girnachgowl's collarbefore now, " said Miss Jacky. 

"I think I had the worst of it, that had all my good dreaming-breaddestroyed, " added Mis Nicky. 

"Nothing could be more natural than you dreams, " said Mrs. Douglas, "considering how all these subjects have engrossed you for some timepast. You, Aunt Grizzy, may remember how desirous you were ofadministering one of Lady Maclaughlan's powders to my little boyyesterday; and you, Aunt Jacky, made a point of trying LadyGirnachgowl's collar upon Mary, to convince her how pleasant it was;while you, Aunt Nicky, had experienced a great alarm in supposing yourcake had been burned in the oven. And these being the most vividimpression you had received during the day, it was perfectly naturalthat they should have retained their influence during a portion of thenight. "

The interpretations were received with high disdain. One and alldeclared they never dreamed of anything that _had_ occurred; andtherefore the visions of the night portended some extraordinary goodfortune to the family in general, and to little Norman in particular. 

"The best fortune I can wish for him, and all of us, for this day is, that he should remain quiet during the ceremony, " said his mother, whowas not so elated as Lady Macbeth at the predictions of the sisters. 

The christening party mustered strong; and the rites of baptism wereduly performed by the Rev. Duncan M'Drone. The little Christian had beenkissed by every lady in company, and pronounced by the matrons to be "adainty little _doug!_" and by the misses to be "the sweetest lamb theyhad ever seen!" The cake and wine was in its progress round the company;when, upon its being tendered to the old gentleman, who was sittingsilent in his arm-chair, he abruptly exclaimed, in a most discordantvoice, "Hey! what's a' this wastery for?"--and ere an answer could bereturned his jaw dropped, his eyes fixed, and the Laird of Glenfernceased to breathe!

CHAPTER XXVI. 

"They say miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons tomake modern and familiar things supernatural and causeless. Hence it isthat we make trifles of terrors; ensconcing ourselves into seemingknowledge, when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear. "--_All'sWell that ends Well_. 

ALL attempts to reanimate the lifeless form proved unavailing; and thehorror and consternation that reigned in the castle of Glenfern may beimagined, but cannot be described. There is perhaps no feeling of ournature so vague, so complicated, so mysterious, as that with which welook upon the cold remains of our fellow-mortals. The dignity with whichdeath invests even the meanest of his victims inspires us with an awe noliving thing can create. The monarch on his throne is less awful than thebeggar in his shroud. The marble features--the powerless hand--thestiffened limbs--oh! who can contemplate these with feelings that can bedefined? These are the mockery of all our hopes and fears, our fondestlove our fellest hate. Can it be that we now shrink with horror from thetouch of that hand which but yesterday was fondly clasped in our own? Isthat tongue, whose accents even now dwell in our ear, forever chained inthe silence of death? These black and heavy eyelids, are they for everto seal up in darkness the eyes whose glance no earthly power couldrestrain? And the spirit which animated the clay, where is it now? Is itwrapt in bliss, or dissolved in woe? Does it witness our grief, andshare our sorrows? Or is the mysterious tie that linked it withmortality forever broken? And the remembrance of earthly scenes, arethey indeed to the enfranchised spirit as the morning dream, or the dewupon the early flower? Reflections such as these naturally arise inevery breast. Their influence is felt, though their import cannot alwaysbe expressed. The principle is in all the same, however it may differ inits operations. 

In the family assembled round the lifeless form that had so long beenthe centre of their domestic circle, grief showed itself under variousforms. The calm and manly sorrow of the son; the saint-like feelings ofhis wife; the youthful agitation of Mary; the weak superstitiouswailings of the sisters; and the loud uncontrolled lamentations of thedaughters; all betokened an intensity of suffering that arose from thesame source, varied according to the different channels in which itflowed. Even the stern Lady Maclaughlan was subdued to something ofkindred feeling; and though no tears dropped from her eyes, she sat byher friends, and sought, in her own way, to soften their affliction. 

The assembled guests, who had not yet been able to take their departure, remained in the drawing-room in a sort of restless solemnity peculiar toseasons of collateral affliction, where all seek to highten the effectupon others, and shift the lesson from themselves. Various were thesurmises and peculations as to the cause of the awful transition thathad just taken place. 

"Glenfern was nae like a man that wad hae gaen aff in thisgate, " said one. 

"I dinna ken, " said another; "I've notic'd a chainge on Glenfern fora gey while noo. "

"I agree wi' you, sir, " said a third. "In my mind Glenfern's beendroopin' very sair ever since the last tryst. "

"At Glenfern's time o' life it's no surprisin', " remarked a fourth, whofelt perfectly secure of being fifteen years his junior. 

"Glenfern was na that auld neither, " retorted a fifth, whose consciencesmote him with being years his senior. 

"But he had a deal o' vexation frae his faemily, " said an elderlybachelor. 

"Ye offen see a hale stoot man, like oor puit freend, gang like thesnuff o' a cannel, " coughed up a pthisicky gentleman. 

"He was aye a tume, boss-looking man ever since I mind him, " wheezed outa swollen asthmatic figure. 

"An' he took nae care o' himsel', " said he Laird of Pettlechass. "Hisdiet was nae what it should hae been at his time o' life. An' he was ootan' in, up an' doon, in a' wathers, wat an' dry. "

"Glenfern's doings had naething to du wi' his death, " said an ancientgentlewoman with solemnity. "They maun ken little wha ne'er heard thebod-word of the family. " And she repeated in Gaelic words to thefollowing effect:--

 "When Loehdow shall turn to a lin, [1] In Glenfern ye'll hear the din; When frae Benenck they shool the sna', O'er Glenfern the leaves will fa'; When foreign geer grows on Benenck tap, Then the fir tree will be Glenfern's hap. "

[1] Cataract. 

"An' noo, ma'am, will ye be sae gude as point oot the meanin' o' thisfreet, " said an incredulous-looking member of the company; "for when Ipassed Lochdow this mornin' I neither saw nor heard o' a lin; an' fraethis window we can a' see Benenck wi' his white night-cap on; an' he wadhae little to do that wad try to shoal it aff. "

"It's neither o' the still water nor the stay brae that the word wasspoke, " replied the dame, with a disdainful frown; "they tak' nae partin our doings: but kent ye nae that Lochdow himsel' had tined his sightin a cataract; an' is nae there dule an' din eneuch in Glenfern the day?An' kent ye nae that Benenck had his auld white pow shaven, an' thathe's gettin' a jeezy frae Edinburgh?--an' I'se warran' he'll be in hisbraw wig the very day that Glenfern'll be laid in his deal coffin. "

The company admitted the application was tooclose to be resisted; but the same sceptic (who, by-the-bye, was only alow country merchant, elevated by purchase to the dignity of a Highlandlaird) was seen to shrug his shoulders, and hear to make some sneeringremarks on the days of second-sights and such superstitious nonsensebeing past. This was instantly laid hold of; and amongst many others ofthe same sort, the truth of the following story was attested by one ofthe party, as having actually occurred in his family within his ownremembrance. 

"As Duncan M'Crae was one evening descending Benvoilloich, he perceiveda funeral procession in the vale beneath. He was greatly surprised, nothaving heard of any death in the country; and this appeared to be theburial of some person of consequence, from the number of the attendants. He made all the haste he could to get down; and as he drew near thecounted all the lairds of the country except my father, Sir Murdoch. Hewas astonished at this, till he recollected that he was away to the lowcountry to his cousin's marriage; but he felt curious to know who itwas, though some unaccountable feeling prevented him from mixing withthe followers. He therefore kept on the ridge of the hill, right overtheir heads, and near enough to hear them speak; but although he sawthem move their lips, no sound reached his ear. He kept along with theprocession in this way till it reached the Castle Dochartburying-ground, and there it stopped. The evening was close and warm, and a thick mist had gathered in the glen, while the tops of the hillsshone like gold. Not a breath of air was stirring, but the trees thatgrew round the burying-ground waved and soughed, and some withered leaveswere swirled round and round, as if by the wind. The company stood awhile to rest, and then they proceeded to open the iron gates of theburying-ground; but the lock was rusted and would not open. Then theybegan to pull down part of the wall, and Duncan thought how angry hismaster would be at this, and he raised his voice and shouted andhallooed to them, but to no purpose. Nobody seemed to hear him. At lastthe wall was taken down, and the coffin was lifted over, and just thenthe sun broke out, and glinted on a new-made grave; and as they werelaying the coffin in it, it gave way, and disclosed Sir Murdoch himselfin his dead clothes; and then the mist grew so thick, Duncan could seeno more, and how to get home he knew not; but when he entered his owndoor he was bathed in sweat, and white as any corpse; and all that hecould say was, that he had seen Castle Dochart's burying. 

"The following day, " continued the narrator, "he was more composed, andgave the account you have now heard; and three days after came theintelligence of my father's death. He had dropped down in a fit thatvery evening, when entertaining a large company in honour of hiscousin's marriage; and that day week his funeral passed throughGlenvalloch exactly as described by Duncan M'Crae, with all theparticulars: The gates of the burying-ground could not he opened; partof the wall was taken down to admit the coffin, which received someinjury, and gave way as they were placing it in the grave. "

Even the low-country infidel was silenced by the solemnity of thisstory; and soon after the company dispersed, everyone panting to be thefirst to circulate the intelligence of Glenfern's death. 

But soon--oh, how soon! "dies in human hearts the thought of death!"Even the paltry detail which death creates serves to detach out mindsfrom the cause itself. So it was with the family of Glenfern. Theirlight did not "shine inward;" and after the first burst of sorrow theirideas fastened with avidity on all the paraphernalia of affliction. Mr. Douglas, indeed, found much to do and to direct to be done. The elderladies began to calculate how many yards of broad hemming would berequired, and to form a muster-roll of the company; with thisimprovement, that it was to be ten times as numerous as the one that hadassembled at the christening; while the young ones busied theirimaginations as to the effect of new mournings--a luxury to themhitherto unknown. Mrs. Douglas and Mary were differently affected. Religion and reflection had taught the former the enviable lesson ofpossessing her soul in patience under every trial; and while sheinwardly mourned the fate of the poor old man who had been thus suddenlysnatched from the only world that ever had engaged his thoughts, heroutward aspect was calm and serene. The impression made upon Mary'sfeelings was of a more powerful nature. She had witnessed suffering, andwatched by sick-beds; but death, and death in so terrific a form, wasnew to her. She had been standing by her grandfather's chair--her headwas bent to his--her hand rested upon his, when, by a momentaryconvulsion, she beheld the last dread change--the living man transformedinto the lifeless corpse. The countenance but now fraught with life andhuman thoughts, in the twinkling of an eye was covered with the shadesof death! It was in vain that Mary prayed and reasoned and stroveagainst the feelings that had been thus powerfully excited. One objectalone possessed her imagination--the image of her grandfatherdying--dead; his grim features, his ghastly visage, his convulsivegrasp, were ever present, by day and by night. Her nervous system hadreceived a shock too powerful for all the strength of her understandingto contend with. Mrs. Douglas sought by every means to soothe herfeelings and divert her attention; and flattered herself that a shorttime would allay the perturbation of her youthful emotions. 

Five hundred persons, horse and foot, high and low, male and female, graced the obsequies of the Laird of Glenfern. Benenck was there in hisnew wig, and the autumnal leaves dropped on the coffin as it was borneslowly along the vale!

CHAPTER XXVII. 

"It is no diminution, but a recommendation of human nature, that, insome instances, passion gets the better of reason, and all that we canthink is impotent against half what we feel. "--_Spectator. _

"LIFE is a mingled yarn;" few of its afflictions but are accompaniedwith some alleviation--none of its blessings that do not bring somealloy. Like most other events that long have formed the object ofyearning and almost hopeless wishes, and on which have been built thefairest structure of human felicity, the arrival of the young heir ofGlenfern produced a less extraordinary degree of happiness than had beenanticipated. The melancholy event which had marked the first ceremonialof his life had cast its gloom alike on all nearly connected with him;and when time had dispelled the clouds of recent mourning, and restoredthe mourners to their habitual train of thought and action, somewhat ofthe novelty which had given him such lively interest in the hearts ofthe sisters had subsided. The distressing conviction, too, more and moreforced itself upon them, that their advice and assistance were likely tobe wholly overlooked in the nurture of the infant mind and management ofthe thriving frame of their little nephew. Their active energies, therefore, driven back to the accustomed channels, after many murmursand severe struggles, again revolved in the same sphere as before. True, they sighed and mourned for a time, but soon found occupation congenialto their nature in the little departments of life--dressing crape;reviving black silk; converting narrow hems into broad hems; and inshort, who so busy, who so important, as the ladies of Glenfern? AsMadame de Staël, or de Something says, "they fulfilled theirdestinies. " Their walk lay amongst threads and pickles; their sphereextended from the garret to the pantry; and often as they sought todiverge from it, their instinct always led them to return to it, as thetract in which they were destined to move. There are creatures of thesame sort in the male part of the creation, but it is foreign to mypurpose to describe them at present. Neither are the trifling andinsignificant of either sex to be treated with contempt, or looked uponas useless by those whom God has gifted with higher powers. In thearrangements of an all-wise Providence there is nothing created in vain. Every link of the vast chain that embraces creation helps to holdtogether the various relations of life; and all is beautiful gradation, from the human vegetable to the glorious archangel. 

If patient hope, if unexulting joy, and chastened anticipation, sanctifying a mother's love, could have secured her happiness, Mrs. Douglas would have found, in the smiles of her infant, all the comforther virtue deserved. But she still had to drink of that cup of sweet andbitter, which must bathe the lips of all who breathe the breath of life. 

While the instinct of a parent's love warmed her heart, as she pressedher infant to her bosom, the sadness of affectionate and rationalsolicitude stifled every sentiment of pleasure as she gazed on thealtered and drooping form of her adopted daughter of the child who hadalready repaid the cares that had been lavished on her, and in whom shedescried the promise of a plenteous harvest from the good seed she hadsown. Though Mary had been healthy in childhood, her constitution wasnaturally delicate, and she had latterly outgrown her strength. Theshock she had sustained by her grandfather's death, thus operating on aweakened frame, had produced an effect apparently most alarming; and theefforts she made to exert herself only served to exhaust her. She feltall the watchful solicitude, the tender anxieties of her aunt, andbitterly reproached herself with not better repaying these exertions forher happiness. A thousand times she tried to analyse and extirpate thesaddening impression that weighed upon her heart. 

"It is not sorrow, " reasoned she with herself, "that thus oppresses me;for though I reverenced my grandfather, yet the loss of his society hasscarcely been felt by me. It cannot be fear--the fear of death; for mysoul is not so abject as to confine its desires to this sublunary scene. What, then, is this mysterious dread that has taken possession of me?Why do I suffer my mind to suggest to me images of horror, instead ofvisions of bliss? Why can I not, as formerly, picture to myself thebeauty and the brightness of a soul casting off mortality? Why must theconvulsed grasp, the stifled groan, the glaring eye, for ever comebetwixt heaven and me?"

Alas! Mary was unskilled to answer. Hers was the season for feeling, notfor reasoning. She knew not that hers was the struggle of imaginationstriving to maintain its ascendency over reality. She had heard andread, and thought and talked of death; but it was of death in itsfairest form, in its softest transition: and the veil had been abruptlytorn from her eyes; the gloomy pass had suddenly disclosed itself beforeher, not strewed with flowers but shrouded in horrors. Like all personsof sensibility, Mary had a disposition to view everything in a _beauideal:_ whether that is a boon most fraught with good or ill it weredifficult to ascertain. While the delusion lasts it is productive ofpleasure to its possessor; but oh! the thousand aches that heart isdestined to endure which clings to the stability and relies on thepermanency of earthly happiness! But the youthful heart must ever remaina stranger to this saddening truth. Experience only can convince us thathappiness is not a plant of this world; and that, though many an eyehath beheld its blossoms no mortal hand hath ever gathered its fruits. This, then, was Mary's first lesson in what is called the knowledge oflife, as opposed to the _beau ideal_ of a young and ardent imaginationin love with life, and luxuriating in its own happiness. And, upon sucha mind it could not fail of producing a powerful impression. 

The anguish Mrs. Douglas experienced as she witnessed the changingcolour, lifeless step, and forced smile of her darling _élève _was notmitigated by the good sense or sympathy of those around her. While Maryhad prospered under her management, in the consciousness that she wasfulfilling her duty to the best of her abilities, she could listen withplacid cheerfulness to the broken hints of disapprobation, or forcedgood wishes for the success of her new-fangled schemes, that werelevelled at her by the sisters. But now, when her cares seemed defeated, it was an additional thorn in her heart to have to endure thecommonplace wisdom and self-gratulations of the almost exulting aunts;not that they had the slightest intention of wounding the feelings oftheir niece, whom they really loved, but the temptation was irresistibleof proving that they had been in the right and she in the wrong, especially as no such acknowledgment had yet been extorted from her. 

"It is nonsense to ascribe Mary's dwining to her grandfather's death, "said Miss Jacky. "We were all nearer to him in propinquity than she was, and none of our healths have suffered. "

"And there's his own daughters, " added Miss Grizzy, "who, of course, must have felt a great deal more than anybody else--there can be nodoubt of that--such sensible creatures as them must feel a great deal;but yet you see how they have got up their spirits--I'm sure it'swonderful!"

"It shows their sense and the effects of education, " said Miss Jacky. 

"Girls that sup their porridge will always cut a good figure, " quothNicky. 

"With their fine feelings I'm sure we have all reason to be thankfulthat they have been blest with such hearty stomachs, " observed MissGrizzy; "if they had been delicate, like poor Mary's, I'm sure I declareI don't know what we would have done; for certainly they were all mostdreadfully affected at their excellent father's death; which was quitenatural, poor things! I'm sure there's no pacifying poor Baby, and evenyet, neither Bella nor Betsey can bear to be left alone in a dark room. Tibby has to sleep with them still every night; and alighted candletoo-which is much to their credit--and yet I'm sure it's not withreading. I'm certain-indeed, I think there's no doubt of it--thatreading does young people much harm. It puts things into their headsthat never would have been there but for books. I declare, I thinkreading's a very dangerous thing; I'm certain all Mary's bad health isentirely owing to reading. You know we always thought she read a greatdeal too much for her good. "

"Much depends upon the choice of books, " said Jacky, with an air of themost profound wisdom, "Fordyce's Sermons and the History of Scotland aretwo of the very few books _I_ would put into the hands of a young woman. Our girls have read little else, "--casting a look at Mrs. Douglas, whowas calmly pursuing her work in the midst of this shower of darts alllevelled at her. 

"To be sure, " returned Grizzy, "it is a thousand pities that Mary hasbeen allowed to go on so long; not, I'm sure, that any of us mean toreflect upon you, my dear Mrs. Douglas; for of course it was all owingto your ignorance and inexperience; and that, you know, you could nothelp; for it as not your fault; nobody can blame you. I'm certain youwould have done what is right if you had only known better; but ofcourse we must all know much better than you; because, you know, we areall a great deal older, and especially Lady Maclaughlan, who has thegreatest experience in the diseases of old men especially, and infants. Indeed it has been he study of her life almost; for, you know, poor SirSampson is never well; and I dare say, if Mary had taken some of hernice worm-lozenges, which certainly cured Duncan M'Nab's wife'sdaughter's little girl of the jaundice, and used that valuable growingembrocation, which we are all sensible made Baby great deal fatter, Idare say there would have been thing the matter with her to-day. "

"Mary has been too much accustomed to spend both her time and moneyamongst idle vagrants, " said Nicky. 

"Economy of both, " subjoined Jacky, with an air of humility, "_I_confess I have ever been accustomed to consider as virtues. Thesehandsome respectable new bonnets"--looking _from_ Mrs. Douglas--"thatour girls got just before their poor father's death, were entirely thefruits of their own savings. "

"And I declare, " said Grizzy, who did not excel in innuendos, "I declare, for my part--although at the same time, my dear niece, I'm certain youare far from intending it--I really think it's very disrespectful to SirSampson and Lady Maclaughlan, in anybody, and especially such nearneighbours, to give more in charity than they do; for you may be surethey give as much as they think proper, and they must be the bestjudges, and can afford to give what they please; for Sir Sampson couldbuy and sell all of us a hundred times over if he liked. It's long sincethe Lochmarlie estate was called seven thousand a year; and besides thatthere's the Birkendale property and the Glenmavis estate, and I'm sure Ican't tell you all what; but there's no doubt he's a man of immensefortune. "

Well it was known and frequently was it discussed, the iniquity of Marybeing allowed to waste her time and squander her money amongst the poor, instead of being taught the practical virtues of making her own gowns, and of hoarding up her pocket-money for some selfish gratification. 

In colloquies such as these day after day passed on without any visibleimprovement taking place in her health. Only one remedy suggested itselfto Mrs. Douglas, and that was to remove her to the south of England forthe winter. Milder air and change of scene she had no doubt would proveefficacious; and her opinion was confirmed by that of the celebratedDr. -----, who, having been summoned to the Laird of Pettlechass, hadpaid a visit at Glenfern _en passant. _ How so desirable an event was tobe accomplished was the difficulty. By the death of his father a varietyof business and an extent of farming had devolved upon Mr. Douglas whichobliged him to fix his residence at Glenfern, and rendered it impossiblefor him to be long absent from it. Mrs. Douglas had engaged in theduties of a nurse to her little boy, and to take him or leave him wasequally out of the question. 

In this dilemma the only resource that offered was that of sending Maryfor a few months to her mother. True, it was a painful necessity; forMrs. Douglas seldom heard from her sister-in-law, and when she did, herletters were short and cold. She sometimes desired "a kiss to her(Mrs. Douglas's) little girl, " and once, in an extraordinary fit of goodhumour, had actually sent a locket with her hair in a letter by post, for which Mrs. Douglas had to pay something more than the value of thepresent. This was all that Mary knew of her mother, and the rest of herfamily were still greater strangers to her. Her father remained in adistant station in India, and was seldom heard of. Her brother was goneto sea; and though she had written repeatedly to her sister, her lettersremained unnoticed. Under these circumstances there was somethingrevolting in the idea of obtruding Mary upon the notice of herrelations, and trusting to their kindness even for a few months; yet herhealth, perhaps her life, was at stake, and Mrs. Douglas felt she hadscarcely a right to hesitate. 

"Mary has perhaps been too long an alien from her own family, " said sheto herself; "this will be a means of her becoming acquainted with them, and of introducing her to that sphere in which she is probably destinedto walk. Under her uncle's roof she will surely be safe, and in thesociety of her mother and sister she cannot be unhappy. New scenes willgive a stimulus to her mind; the necessity of exertion will brace thelanguid faculties of her soul, and a few short months, I trust, willrestore her to me such and even superior to what she was. Why, then, should I hesitate to do what my conscience tells me ought to be done?Alas! it is because I selfishly shrink from the pain of separation, andam unwilling to relinquish, even for a season, one of the many blessingsHeaven has bestowed upon me. " And Mrs. Douglas, noble and disinterestedas ever, rose superior to the weakness that she felt was besetting her. Mary listened to her communication with a throbbing heart and eyessuffused with tears; to part from her aunt was agony; but to behold hermother--she to whom she owed her existence, to embrace a sister too--andone for whom she felt all those mysterious yearnings which twins aresaid to entertain towards each other--oh, there was rapture in thethought, and Mary's buoyant heart fluctuated between the extremes ofanguish and delight. 

The venerable sisters received the intelligence with much surprise: theydid not know very well what to say about it; there was much to be saidboth for and against it. Lady Maclaughlan had a high opinion of Englishair; but then they had heard the morals of the people were not so good, and there were a great many dissipated young men in England; though, tobe sure, there was no denying but the mineral waters were excellent;and, in short, it ended in Miss Grizzy's sitting down to concoct anepistle to Lady Maclaughlan; in Miss Jacky's beginning to draw up a codeof instructions for a young woman upon her entrance into life; and MissNicky hoping that if Mary did go, she would take care not to bring backany extravagant English notions with her. The younger set debatedamongst themselves how many of them would be invited to accompany Maryto England, and from thence fell to disputing the possession of a brownhair trunk, with a flourished D in brass letters on the top. 

Mrs. Douglas, with repressed feelings, set about offering the sacrificeshe had planned, and in a letter to Lady Juliana, descriptive of herdaughter's situation, she sought to excite her tenderness withoutcreating an alarm. How far she succeeded will be seen hereafter. In themeantime we must take a retrospective glance at the last seventeen yearsof her Ladyship's life. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

 _Her_ "only labour was to kill the time; And labour dire it is, and weary woe. "

 _Castle of Indolence. _

YEARS had rolled on amidst heartless pleasures and joyless amusements, but Lady Juliana was made neither the wiser nor the better by addedyears and increased experience. Time had in vain turned his glassbefore eyes still dazzled with the gaudy allurements of the world, forshe took "no note of time" but as the thing that was to take her to theOpera and the Park, and that sometimes hurried her excessively, andsometimes bored her to death. At length she was compelled to abandon herchase after happiness in the only sphere where she believed it was to befound. Lord Courtland's declining health unfitted him for thedissipation of a London life; and, by the advice of his physician, heresolved upon retiring to a country seat which he possessed in thevicinity of Bath. Lady Juliana was in despair at the thoughts of thissudden wrench from what she termed "life;" but she had no resource; forthough her good-natured husband gave her the whole of General Cameron'sallowance, that scarcely served to keep her in clothes; and though herbrother was perfectly willing that she and her children should occupyapartments in his house, yet he would have been equally acquiescent hadshe proposed to remove from it. Lady Juliana had a sort of instinctiveknowledge of this, which prevented her from breaking out into openremonstrance. She therefore contented herself with being more thanusually peevish and irascible to her servants and children, and talkingto her friends of the prodigious sacrifice she was about to make for herbrother and his family, as if it had been the cutting off of a hand orthe plucking out of an eye. To have heard her, anyone unaccustomed tothe hyperbole of fashionable language would have deemed Botany Bay thenearest possible point of destination. Parting from her fashionableacquaintances was tearing herself from all she loved; quitting Londonwas bidding adieu to the world. Of course there could be no societywhere she was going, but still she would do her duty; she would notdesert dear Frederick and his poor children! In short, no martyr wasever led to the stake with half the notions of heroism and self-devotionas those with which Lady Juliana stepped into the barouche that was toconduct her to Beech Park. In the society of piping bullfinches, pinkcanaries, gray parrots, goldfish, green squirrels, Italian greyhounds, and French poodles, she sought a refuge from despair. But even thesevaried charms, after a while, failed to please. The bullfinches grewhoarse; the canaries turned brown; the parrots became stupid; the goldfish would not eat; the squirrels were cross; the dogs fought; even ashell grotto that was constructing fell down; and by the time the aviaryand conservatory were filled, they had lost their interest. The childrenwere the next subjects for her Ladyship's ennui to discharge itselfupon. Lord Courtland had a son some years older, and a daughter nearlyof the same age as her own. It suddenly occurred to her that they mustbe educated, and that she would educate the girls herself. As the firststep she engaged two governesses, French and Italian; modern treatiseson the subject of education were ordered from London, looked at, admired, and arranged on gilded shelves and sofa tables; and could theircontents have exhaled with the odours of their Russia leather bindings, Lady Juliana's dressing-room would have been what Sir Joshua Reynoldssays every seminary of learning _is, _ "an atmosphere of floatingknowledge. " But amidst this splendid display of human lore, THE BOOKfound no place. She _had_ heard of the Bible, however, and even knew itwas a book appointed to be read in churches, and given to poor people, along with Rumford soup and flannel shirts; but as the rule of life, asthe book that alone could make wise unto salvation, this Christianparent was ignorant as the Hottentot or Hindoo. 

Three days beheld the rise, progress, and decline of Lady Juliana'swhole system of education; and it would have been well for the childrenhad the trust been delegated to those better qualified to discharge it. But neither of the preceptresses was better skilled in the only trueknowledge. Signora Cicianai was a bigoted Catholic, whose faith hungupon her beads, and Madame Grignon was an _esprit forte, _ who had nofaith in anything but _le plaisir. _ But the Signora's singing washeavenly, and Madame's dancing was divine, and what lacked there more?

So passed the first years of beings training for immortality. Thechildren insensibly ceased to be children, and Lady Juliana would havebeheld the increasing height and beauty of her daughter with extremedisapprobation, had not that beauty, by awakening her ambition, alsoexcited her affection, if the term affection could be applied to thatheterogeneous mass of feelings and propensities that "shape had nonedistinguishable. " Lady Juliana had fallen into an error very common withwiser heads than hers that of mistaking the _effect_ for the _cause. _ Shelooked no farther than to her union with Henry Douglas for thefoundation of all her unhappiness; it never once occurred to her thather marriage was only the _consequence_ of something previously wrong;she saw not the headstrong passions that had impelled her to pleaseherself--no matter at what price. She thought not of the want ofprinciple, she blushed not at the want of delicacy, that had led her todeceive a parent and elope with a man to whose character she was a totalstranger. She therefore considered herself as having fallen a victim tolove; and could she only save her daughter from a similar error she mightyet by her means retrieve her fallen fortune. To implant principles ofreligion and virtue in her mind was not within the compass of her own;but she could scoff at every pure and generous affection; she couldridicule every disinterested attachment; and she could expatiate on thenever-fading joys that attend on wealth and titles, jewels andequipages; and all this she did in the belief that she was acting thepart of a most wise and tender parent! The seed, thus carefully sown, promised to bring forth an abundant harvest. At eighteen AdelaideDouglas was as heartless and ambitious as she was beautiful andaccomplished; but the surface was covered with flowers, and who wouldhave thought of analysing the soil?

It sometimes happens that the very means used with success in theformation of one character produce a totally opposite effect uponanother. The mind of Lady Emily Lindore had undergone exactly the sameprocess in its formation as that of her cousin; yet in all things theydiffered. Whether it were the independence of high birth, or the prideof a mind conscious of its own powers, she had hitherto resisted thesophistry of her governesses and the solecisms of her aunt. But hernotions of right and wrong were too crude to influence the general tenorof her life, or operate as restraints upon a naturally high spirit andimpetuous temper. Not all the united efforts of her preceptresses hadbeen able to form a manner for their pupil; nor could their authorityrestrain her from saying what she thought, and doing what she pleased;and, in spite of both precept and example, Lady Emily remained asinsupportably natural and sincere as she was beautiful and _piquante. _At six years old she had declared her intention of marrying her cousinEdward Douglas, and at eighteen her words were little less equivocal. Lord Courtland, who never disturbed himself about anything, was ratherdiverted with this juvenile attachment; and Lady Juliana, who caredlittle for her son, and still less for her niece, only wondered howpeople could be such fools as to think of marrying for love, after shehad told them how miserable it would make them. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

 "Unthought of frailties cheat us in the wise; The fool lies hid in inconsistencies. "

 POPE. 

SUCH were the female members of the family to whom Mary was about to beintroduced. In her mother's heart she had no place, for of her absenthusband and neglected daughter she seldom thought; and their letterswere scarcely read, and rarely answered. Even good Miss Grizzy'selaborate epistle, in which were curiously entwined the death of herbrother and the birth and christening of her grand-nephew, in a trulyGordian manner, remained disentangled. Had her Ladyship only read to themiddle of the seventh page she would have learned the indisposition ofher daughter, with the various opinions thereupon; but poor MissGrizzy's labours were vain, for her letter remains a dead letter to thisday. Mrs. Douglas was therefore the first to convey the unwelcomeintelligence, and to suggest to the mind of the mother that heralienated daughter still retained some claims upon her care andaffection; and although this was done with all the tenderness anddelicacy of a gentle and enlightened mind, it called forth the mostbitter indignation from Lady Juliana. 

She almost raved at what she termed the base ingratitude and hypocrisyof her sister-in-law. After the sacrifice she had made in giving up herchild to her when she had none of her own, it was a pretty return tosend her back only to die. But she saw through it. She did not believe aword of the girl's silliness; that was a trick to get rid of her. Nowthey had a child of their own, they had no use for hers; but she was notto be made a fool of in such a way, and by such people, etc. Etc. 

"If Mrs. Douglas is so vile a woman, " said the provoking Lady Emily, "the sooner my cousin is taken from her the better. "

"You don't understand these things, Emily, " returned her auntimpatiently. 

"What things?"

"The trouble and annoyance it will occasion me to take charge of thegirl at this time. "

"Why at this time more than at any other?"

"Absurd, my dear! how can you ask so foolish a question? Don't youknow that you and Adelaide are both to bring out this winter, and howcan I possibly do you justice with a dying girl upon my hands?"

"I thought you suspected it was all a trick, " continued the persecutingLady Emily. 

"So I do; I haven't the least doubt of it. The whole story is the mostimprobable stuff I ever heard. "

"Then you will have less trouble than you expect. "

"But I hate to be made a dupe of, and imposed upon by low cunning. IfMrs. Douglas had told me candidly she wished me to take the girl, I wouldhave thought nothing of it; but I can't bear to be treated like a fool. "

"I don't see anything at all unbecoming in Mrs. Douglas's treatment. "

"Then what can I do with a girl who has been educated in Scotland? Shemust be vulgar--all Scotchwomen are so. They have red hands and roughvoices; they yawn, and blow their noses, and talk, and laugh loud, anddo a thousand shocking things. Then, to hear the Scotchbrogue--oh, heavens! I should expire every time she opened her mouth!"

"Perhaps my sister may not speak so _very_ broad, " kindly suggestedAdelaide in her sweetest accents. 

"You are very good, my love, to think so; but nobody can live in thatodious country without being infected with its _patois. _ I reallythought I should have caught it myself; and Mr. Douglas" (no longerHenry) "became quite gross in his language after living amongst hisrelations. "

"This is really too bad, " cried Lady Emily indignantly. "If a personspeaks sense and truth, what does it signify how it is spoken? Andwhether your Ladyship chooses to receive your daughter here or not, Ishall at any rate invite my cousin to my father's house. " And, snatchingup a pen, she instantly began a letter to Mary. 

Lady Juliana was highly incensed at this freedom of her niece; but shewas a little afraid of her, and therefore, after some sharp altercation, and with infinite violence done to her feelings, she was prevailed uponto write a decently civil sort of a letter to Mrs. Douglas, consentingto receive her daughter for a _few months;_ firmly resolving in her ownmind to conceal her from all eyes and ears while she remained, and toreturn her to her Scotch relations early in the summer. 

This worthy resolution formed, she became more serene and awaited thearrival of her daughter with as much firmness as could reasonably havebeen expected. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

 "And for unfelt imaginations They often feel a world of restless cares. "

 SHAKESPEARE. 

LITTLE weened the good ladies of Glenfern the ungracious reception their_protégée_ was likely to experience from her mother; for, in spite ofthe defects of her education, Mary was a general favourite in thefamily; and however they might solace themselves by depreciating her toMrs. Douglas, to the world in general, and their young femaleacquaintances in particular, she was upheld as an epitome of everyperfection above and below the sun. Had it been possible for them toconceive that Mary could have been received with anything short ofrapture, Lady Juliana's letter might in some measure have opened theeyes of their understanding; but to the guileless sisters it seemedeverything that was proper. Sorry for the necessity Mrs. Douglas feltunder of parting with her adopted daughter, was "prettily expressed;"had no doubt it was merely a slight nervous affection, "was kind andsoothing;" and the assurance, more than once repeated, that her friendsmight rely upon her being returned to them in the course of a very fewmonths, "showed a great deal of feeling and consideration. " But as theirminds never maintained a just equilibrium long upon any subject, but, like falsely adjusted scales, were ever hovering and vibrating at eitherextreme, so they could not rest satisfied in the belief that Mary was tobe happy; there must be something to counteract that stilling sentiment;and that was the apprehension that Mary would be spoilt. This, for thepresent, was the pendulum of their imaginations. 

"I declare, Mary, my sisters and I could get no sleep last night forthinking of you, " said Miss Grizzy; _"we_ are all certain that LadyJuliana especially, but indeed all your English relations, will think somuch of you--from not knowing you, you know--which will be quitenatural. I'm sure that my sisters and I have taken it into ourheads--but I hope it won't be the case, as you have a great deal of goodsense of your own--that they will quite turn your head. "

"Mary's head is on her shoulders to little purpose, " followed up MissJacky, "if she can't stand being made of when she goes amongststrangers; and she ought to know by this time that a mother's partialityis no proof of a child's merit. "

"You hear that, Mary, " rejoined Miss Grizzy; "so I'm sure I hope youwon't mind a word that your mother says to you, I mean about yourself;for of course you know she can't be such a good judge of you as us, whohave known you all your life. As to other things, I daresay she is verywell informed about the country, and politics, and these sort ofthings--I'm certain Lady Juliana knows a great deal. "

"And I hope, Mary, you will take care and not get into the daadlin'handless ways of the English women, " said Miss Nicky; "I wouldn't give apin for an Englishwoman. "

"And I hope you will never look at an Englishman, Mary, " said MissGrizzy, with equal earnestness; "take my word for it they are a verydissipated, unprincipled set. They all drink, and game, and keeprace-horses; and many of them, I'm told, even keep play-actresses; soyou may think what it would be for all of us if you were to marry any ofthem, "--and tears streamed from the good spinster's eyes at the baresupposition of such a calamity. 

"Don't be afraid, my dear aunt, " said Mary, with a kind caress; "Ishall come back to you your own 'Highland Mary. ' No Englishman with hisround face and trim meadows shall ever captivate me. Heath covered hillsand high cheek-bones are the charms that must win my heart. "

"I'm delighted to hear you say so, my dear Mary, " said theliteral-minded Grizzy. "Certainly nothing can be prettier than theheather when it's in flower; and there is something very manly--nobodycan dispute that--in high cheek-bones; and besides, to tell you asecret, Lady Maclaughlan has a husband in her eye for you. We none of uscan conceive who it is, but of course he must be suitable in everyrespect; for you know Lady Maclaughlan has had three husbands herself;so of course she must be an excellent judge of a good husband. "

"Or a bad one, " said Mary, "which is the same thing. Warning is as goodas example. "

Mrs. Douglas's ideas and those of her aunt, did not coincide upon thisoccasion more than upon most others. In her sister-in-Iaw's letter sheflattered herself she saw only fashionable indifference; and she fondlyhoped that would soon give way to a tenderer sentiment, as her daughterbecame known to her. At any rate it was proper that Mary should make thetrial, and whichever way it ended, it must be for her advantage. 

"Mary has already lived too long in these mountain solitudes, " thoughtshe; "her ideas will become romantic, and her taste fastidious. If it isdangerous to be too early initiated into the ways of the world, it isperhaps equally so to live too long secluded from it. Should she makeherself a place in the heart of her mother and sister it will be so muchhappiness gained; and should it prove otherwise, it will be a lessonlearnt--a hard one indeed! but hard are the lessons we must all learn inthe school of life!" Yet Mrs. Douglas's fortitude almost failed her asthe period of separation approached. 

It had been arranged by Lady Emily that a carriage and servantsshould meet Mary at Edinburgh, whither Mr. Douglas was to convey her. The cruel moment came; and mother, sister, relations, friends, --all thebright visions which Mary's sanguine spirit had conjured up to softenthe parting pang, all were absorbed in one agonising feeling, oneoverwhelming thought. Oh, who that for the first time has parted fromthe parent whose tenderness and love were entwined with our earliestrecollections, whose sympathy had soothed our infant sufferings, whosefondness had brightened our infant felicity;--who that has a heart, butmust have felt it sink beneath the anguish of a first farewell! Yetbitterer still must be the feelings of the parent upon committing thecherished object of their cares and affections to the stormy ocean oflife. When experience points to the gathering cloud and rising surgewhich soon may assail their defenceless child, what can support themother's heart but trust in Him whose eye slumbereth not, and whosepower extendeth over all? It was this pious hope, this holy confidence, that enabled this more than mother to part from her adopted child with aresignation which no earthly motive could have imparted to her mind. Itseems almost profanation to mingle with her elevated feelings the coarseyet simple sorrows of the aunts, old and young, as they clung around thenearly lifeless Mary, each tendering the parting gift they had kept as asolace for the last. 

Poor Miss Grizzy was more than usually incoherent as she displayed "anice new umbrella that could be turned into a nice walking-stick, oranything;" and a dressing-box, with a little of everything in it; and, with a fresh burst of tears, Mary was directed where she would _not_find eye-ointment, and where she was _not_ to look forsticking-plaister. 

Miss Jacky was more composed as she presented a flaming copy ofFordyce's Sermons to Young Women, with a few suitable observations; butMiss Nicky could scarcely find voice to tell that the _housewife_ shenow tendered had once been Lady Girnchgowl's, and that it containedWhitechapel needles of every size and number. The younger ladies hadclubbed for the purchase of a large locket, in which was enshrined a lockfrom each subscriber, tastefully arranged by the----- jeweller, in theform of a wheat sheaf upon a blue ground. Even old Donald had hisoffering, and, as he stood tottering at the chaise door, he contrived toget a "bit snishin mull" laid on Mary's lap, with a "God bless her bonnyface, an'may she ne'er want a good sneesh!"

The carriage drove off, and for a while Mary's eyes were closed indespair. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

 "Farewell to the mountains, high covered with snow; Farewell to the straths, and green valleys below; Farewell to the forests, and wild hanging woods, Farewell to the torrents, and loud roaring floods!"

 _Scotch Song. _

HAPPILY in the moral world as in the material one the warring elementshave their prescribed bounds, and "the flood of grief decreaseth when itcan swell no higher;" but it is only by retrospection we can bringourselves to believe in this obvious truth. The young and untried hearthugs itself in the bitterness of its emotions, and takes a pride inbelieving that its anguish can end but with its existence; and it is nottill time hath almost steeped our senses in forgetfulness that wediscover the mutability of all human passions. 

But Mary left it not to the slow hand of time to subdue in some measurethe grief that swelled her heart. Had she given way to selfishness, shewould have sought the free indulgence of her sorrow as the onlymitigation of it; but she felt also for her uncle. He was depressed atparting with his wife and child, and he was taking a long and drearyjourney entirely upon her account. Could she therefore be so selfish asto add to his uneasiness by a display of her sufferings? No--she wouldstrive to conceal it from his observation, though to overcome it wasimpossible. Her feelings must ever remain the same, but, she wouldconfine them to her own breast; and she began to converse with and evenstrove to amuse, her kindhearted companion. Ever and anon indeed a rushof tender recollections came across her mind, and the soft voice and thebland countenance of her maternal friend seemed for a moment present toher senses; and then the dreariness and desolation that succeeded as thedelusion vanished, and all was stillness and vacuity! Even self-reproachshot its piercing sting into her ingenuous heart; levities on which, inher usual gaiety of spirit, she had never bestowed a thought, nowappeared to her as crimes of the deepest dye. She thought how often shehad slighted the counsels and neglected the wishes of her gentlemonitress; how she had wearied of her good old aunts, their crackedvoices, and the everlasting _tic-a-tic_ of their knitting needles; howcoarse and vulgar she had sometimes deemed the younger ones; how she hadmimicked Lady Maclaughlan, and caricatured Sir Sampson, and "even poordear old Donald, " said she, as she summed up the catalogue of hercrimes, "could not escape my insolence and ill-nature. How clever Ithought it to sing 'Haud awa frae me, Donald, ' and how affectedly Ishuddered at everything he touched;" and the "sneeshin mull" was bedewedwith tears of affectionate contrition. But every painful sentiment wasfor a while suspended in admiration of the magnificent scenery that wasspread around them. Though summer had fled, and few even of autumn'sgraces remained, yet over the august features of mountain scenery theseasons have little control. Their charms depend not upon richness ofverdure, or luxuriance of foliage, or any of the mere prettinesses ofnature; but whether wrapped in snow, or veiled in mist, or glowing insunshine, their lonely grandeur remains the same; and the same feelingsfill and elevate the soul in contemplating these mighty works of anAlmighty hand. The eye is never weary in watching the thousand varietiesof light and shade, as they flit over the mountain and gleam upon thelake; and the ear is satisfied with the awful stillness of nature in hersolitude. 

Others besides Mary seemed to have taken a fanciful pleasure incombining the ideas of the mental and elemental world, for in the drearydwelling where they were destined to pass the night she found inscribedthe following lines:--

 "The busy winds war mid the waving bonghs, And darkly rolls the heaving surge to land; Among the flying clouds the moonbeam glows With colours foreign to its softness bland. 

 "Here, one dark shadow melts, in gloom profound, The towering Alps--the guardians of the Lake'; There, one bright gleam sheds silver light around, And shows the threat'ning strife that tempests wake. 

 "Thus o'er my mind a busy memory plays, That shakes the feelings to their inmost core; Thus beams the light of Hope's fallacious ray, When simple confidence can trust no more. 

 "So one dark shadow shrouds each bygone hour, So one bright gleam the coming tempest shows; _That _tells of sorrows, which, though past, still lower, And _this_ reveals th' approach of future woes. "

While Mary was trying to decipher these somewhat mystic lines, her unclewas carrying on a colloquy in Gaelic with their hostess. Theconsequendes of the consultation were not of the choicest description, consisting of braxy [1] mutton, raw potatoes, wet bannocks, hardcheese, and whisky. Very differently would the travellers have fared hadthe good Nicky's intentions been fulfilled. She had prepared with herown hands a moorfowl pie and potted nowt's head, besides a profusion ofwhat she termed "trifles, just for Mary, poor thing, to divert herselfwith upon the road. " But alas! in the anguish of separation, the coveredbasket had been forgot, and the labour of Miss Nicky's hands fell to beconsumed by the family, though Miss Grizzy protested, with tears in hereyes, "that it went to her heart like a knife to eat poor Mary's puffsand snaps. "

[1] Sheep that have died a natural death and been salted. 

Change of air and variety of scene failed not to produce the happiesteffects upon Mary's languid frame and drooping spirits. Her cheek, already glowed with health, and was sometimes dimpled with smiles. Shestill wept, indeed, as she thought of those she had left; but often, while the tear trembled in her eye, its course was arrested by wonder, or admiration, or delight; for every object had its charms for her. Hercultivated taste and unsophisticated mind could descry beauty in theform of a hill, and grandeur in the foam of the wave, and elegance inthe weeping birch, as it dipped its now almost leafless boughs in themountain stream. These simple pleasures, unknown alike to the sordidmind and vitiated taste, are ever exquisitely enjoyed by the refinedyet unsophisticated child of nature. 

CHAPTER XXXII

 "Her native sense improved by reading, Her native sweetness by good breeding. "

DURING their progress through the Highlands the travellers werehospitably entertained at the mansions of the country gentlemen, whereold-fashioned courtesy and modern comfort combined to cheer the strangerguest. But upon _coming out, _ as it is significantly expressed by thenatives of these mountain regions, viz. Entering the low country, theyfound they had only made a change of difficulties. In the highlands theywere always sure that wherever there was a house that house would be tothem a home; but on a fairday in the little town of G----- they foundthemselves in the midst of houses, and surrounded by people, yet unableto procure rest or shelter. 

At the only inn the place afforded they were informed "the horses werebaith oot, an' the ludgin' a' tane up, an' mair tu;" while the driverasserted, what indeed was apparent, "that his beasts war nae fit to gangthe length o' their tae farrer--no for the king himsel'. "

At this moment a stout, florid, good-humoured-looking man passed, whistling "Roy's Wife" with all his heart and just as Mr. Douglas wasstepping out of the carriage to try what could be done, the same person, evidently attracted by curiosity, repassed, changing his tune to"There's cauld kail in Aberdeen. "

He started at sight of Mr. Douglas; then eagerly grasping his hand, "Ah! Archie Douglas, is this you?" exclaimed he with a loud laugh andhearty shake. "'What! you haven't forgot your old schoolfellow BobGawffaw?"

A mutual recognition now took place, and much pleasure was manifested onboth sides at this unexpected rencontre. No time was allowed to explaintheir embarrassments, for Mr. Gawffaw had already tipped the post-boythe wink (which he seemed easily to comprehend); and forcing Mr. Douglas to resume his seat in the carriage, he jumped in himself. 

"Now for Howffend and Mrs. Gawffaw! ha, ha, ha! This will be a surpriseupon her. She thinks I'm in my barn all this time--ha, ha, ha!"

Mr. Douglas here began to express his astonishment at his friend'sprecipitation, and his apprehensions as to the trouble they mightoccasion Mrs. Gawffaw; but bursts of laughter and broken expressions ofdelight were the only replies he could procure from his friend. 

After jolting over half a mile of very bad road, the carriagestopped at a mean vulgar-looking mansion, with dirty windows, ruinousthatched offices, and broken fences. 

Such was the picture of still life. That of animated nature was not lesspicturesque. Cows bellowed, and cart-horses neighed, and pigs grunted, and geese gabbled, and ducks quacked, and cocks and hens flapped andfluttered promiscuously, as they mingled in a sort of yard divided fromthe house by a low dyke, possessing the accommodation of a crazy gate, which was bestrode by a parcel of bare-legged boys. 

"What are you about, you confounded rascals?" called Mr. Gawffaw tothem. 

"Naething, " answered one. 

"We're just takin' a heize on the yett, " answered another. 

"I'll heize ye, ye scoundrels!" exclaimed the incensed Mr. Gawffaw, ashe burst from the carriage; and, snatching the driver's whip from hishand, flew after the more nimble-footed culprits. 

Finding his efforts to overtake them in vain, here turned to the door ofhis mansion, where stood his guests, waiting to be ushered in. He openedthe door himself, and led the way to a parlour which was quite of a piecewith the exterior of the dwelling. A dim dusty table stood in the middleof the floor, heaped with a variety of heterogeneous articles of dress;an exceeding dirty volume of a novel lay open amongst them. The floorwas littered with shapings of flannel, and shreds of gauzes, ribbons, etc. The fire was almost out, and the hearth was covered with ashes. 

After insisting upon his guests being seated, Mr. Gawffaw walked to thedoor of the apartment, and hallooed out, "Mrs. Gawffaw, --ho! May, mydear!--I say, Mrs. Gawffaw!"

A low, croaking, querulous voice was now heard in reply, "For heaven'ssake, Mr. Gawffaw, make less noise! For God's sake, have mercy on thewalls of your house, if you've none on my poor head!" And thereuponentered Mrs. Gawffaw, a cap in one hand, which she appeared to havebeen tying on--a smelling-bottle in the other. 

She possessed a considerable share of insipid and somewhat faded beauty, but disguised by a tawdry trumpery style of dress, and rendered almostdisgusting by the air of affectation, folly, and peevishness thatoverspread her whole person and deportment. She testified the utmostsurprise and coldness at sight of her guests; and, as she entered, Mr. Gawffaw rushed out, having descried something passing in the yard thatcalled for his interposition. Mr. Douglas was therefore under thenecessity of introducing himself and Mary to their ungracious hostess;briefly stating the circumstances that had led them to be her guests, and dwelling, with much warmth, on the kindness and hospitality of herhusband in having relieved them from their embarrassment. A gracioussmile, or what was intended as such, beamed over Mrs. Gawffaw's face atfirst mention of their names. 

"Excuse me, Mr. Douglas, " said she, making a profound reverence to him, and another to Mary, while she waved her hand for them to be seated. "Excuse me, Miss Douglas; but situated as I am, I find it necessary tobe very distant to Mr. Gawffaw's friends sometimes. He is a thoughtlessman, Mr. Douglas--a very thoughtless man. He makes a perfect inn of hishouse. He never lies out of the town, trying who he can pick up andbring home with him. It is seldom I am so fortunate as to see suchguests as Mr. And Miss Douglas of Glenfern Castle in my house, " with anelegant bow to each, which of course was duly returned. "But Mr. Gawffawwould have shown more consideration, both for you and me, had heapprised me of the honour of your visit, instead of bringing you here inthis ill bred, unceremonious manner. As for me, I am too well accustomedto him to be hurt at these things now. He has kept me in hot water, Imay say, since the day I married him. "

In spite of the conciliatory manner in which this agreeable address wasmade, Mr. Douglas felt considerably disconcerted, and again renewed hisapologies, adding something about hopes of being able to proceed. 

"Make no apologies, my dear sir, " said the lady, with what she deemed amost bewitching manner; "it affords me the greatest pleasure to see anyof your family under my roof. I meant no reflection on you; it isentirely Mr. Gawffaw that is to blame, in not having apprised me of thehonour of this visit, that I might not have been caught in thisdéshabille; but I was really so engaged by my studies--" pointing to thedirty novel--"that I was quite unconscious of the lapse of time. " Theguests felt more and more at a loss what to say; but the lady, was atnone. Seeing Mr. Douglas still standing with his hat in his hand, andhis eye directed towards the door, she resumed her discourse. 

"Pray be seated, Mr. Douglas; I beg you will sit off the door. MissDouglas, I entreat you will walk into the fire; I hope you will consideryourself as quite at home"--another elegant bend to each. "I only regretthat Mr. Gawffaw's folly and ill-breeding should have brought you intothis disagreeable situation, Mr. Douglas. He is a well-meaning man, Mr. Douglas, and a good-hearted man; but he is very deficient in otherrespects, Mr. Douglas. "

Mr. Douglas, happy to find anything to which he could assent, warmlyjoined in the eulogium on the excellence of his friend's heart. It didnot appear, however, to give the satisfaction he expected. The ladyresumed with a sigh, "Nobody can know Mr. Gawffaw's heart better than Ido, Mr. Douglas. It _is_ a good one, but it is far from being an elegantone; it is one in which I find no congeniality of sentiment with my own. Indeed, Mr. Gawffaw is no companion for me, nor I for him, Mr. Douglas;he is never happy in my society, and I really believe he would rathersit down with the tinklers on the roadside as spend a day in mycompany. "

A deep sigh followed; but its pathos was drowned in the obstreperous ha, ha, ha! of her joyous helpmate, as he bounced into the room, wiping hisforehead. 

"'Why, May, my dear, what have you been to-day? Things have been allgoing to the deuce. Why didn't you hinder these boys from sweein' thegate off its hinges, and--"

"Me hinder boys from sweein' gates, Mr. Gawffaw! Do I look like as if Iwas capable of hindering boys from sweein' gates, Miss Douglas?"

"Well, my dear, you ought to look after your pigs a little better. Thatjade, black Jess, has trod a parcel of them to death, ha, ha, ha! And--"

"Me look after pigs, Mr. Gawffaw! I am really astonished at you!" againinterrupted the lady, turning pale with vexation. Then, with an affectedgiggle, appealing to Mary, "I leave you to judge, Miss Douglas, if Ilook like a person made for running after pigs!"

"Indeed, " thought Mary, "you don't look like as if you could doanything half so useful. "

"Well, never mind the pigs, my dear; only don't give us any of them fordinner--ha, ha, ha I--and, May, when will you let us have it?"

"Me let you have it, Mr. Gawffaw! I'm sure I don't hinder you fromhaving it when you please, only you know I prefer late hours myself. Iwas always accustomed to them in my poor father's lifetime. He neverdined before four o'clock; and I seldom knew what it was to be in my bedbefore twelve o'clock at night, Miss Douglas, till I married Mr. Gawffaw!"

Mary tried to look sorrowful, to hide the smile that was dimpling hercheek. 

"Come, let us have something to eat in the meantime, my dear. "

"I'm sure you may eat the house, if you please, for me, Mr. Gawffaw!What would you take, Miss Douglas? But pull the bell--softly, Mr. Gawffaw! You do everything so violently. "

A dirty maid-servant, with bare feet, answered the summons. 

"Where's Tom?" demanded the lady, well knowing that Tom was afar off atsome of the farm operations. 

"I ken nae whar he's. He'll be aether at the patatees, or the horses, I'se warran. Div ye want him?"

"Bring some glasses, " said her mistress, with an air of great dignity. "Mr. Gawffaw, you must see about the wine yourself since you have sentTom out of the way. "

Mr. Gawffaw and his handmaid were soon heard in an adjoining closet;the one wondering where the screw was, the other vociferating for aknife to cut the bread; while the mistress of this well-regulatedmansion sought to divert her guests' attention from what was passing byentertaining them with complaints of Mr. Gawffaw's noise and her maid'sinsolence till the parties appeared to speak for themselves. 

After being refreshed with some very bad wine and old baked bread, thegentlemen set off on a survey of the farm, and the ladies repaired totheir toilets. Mary's simple dress was quickly adjusted; and upondescending she found her uncle alone in what Mrs. Gawffaw had shown toher as the drawing room. He guessed her curiosity to know something ofher hosts, and therefore briefly informed her that Mrs. Gawffaw was thedaughter of a trader in some manufacturing town, who had lived inopulence and died insolvent. During his life his daughter had elopedwith Bob Gawffaw, then a gay lieutenant in a marching regiment, who hadbeen esteemed a very lucky fellow in getting the pretty Miss Croaker, with the prospect of ten thousand pounds. None thought more highly ofher husband's good fortune than the lady herself; and though _her_fortune never was realised, she gave herself all the airs of having beenthe making of his. At this time Mr. Gawffaw was a reduced lieutenant, living upon a small paternal property, which he pretended to farm; butthe habits of a military life, joined to a naturally social disposition, were rather inimical to the pursuits of agriculture, and most of his timewas spent in loitering about the village of G-----, where he generallycontinued either to pick up a guest or procure a dinner. 

Mrs. Gawffaw despised her husband; had weak nerves and headaches--wasabove managing her house--read novels--dyed ribbons--and altered hergowns according to every pattern she could see or hear of. 

Such were Mr. And Mrs. Gawffaw--one of the many ill-assorted couples inthis world--joined, not matched. A sensible man would have curbed herfolly and peevishness; a good-tempered woman would have made his homecomfortable, and rendered him more domestic. 

The dinner was such as might have been expected from the previousspecimens--bad of its kind, cold, ill-dressed, and slovenly set down;but Mrs. Gawtfaw seemed satisfied with herself and it. 

"This is very fine mutton, Mr. Douglas, and not underdone to mostpeople's tastes; and this fowl, I have no doubt will eat well, MissDouglas, though it is not so white as some I have seen. "

"The fowl, my dear, looks as if it had been the great-grandmotherof this sheep, ha, ha, ha!"

"For heaven's sake, Mr. Gawffaw, make less noise, or my head will splitin a thousand pieces!" putting her hands to it, as if to hold the frailtenement together. This was always her refuge when at a loss for areply. 

A very ill-concocted pudding next called forth her approbation. 

"This pudding should be good; for it is the same I used to be sopartial to in my poor father's lifetime, when I was used to everydelicacy, Miss Douglas, that money could purchase. "

"But you thought me the greatest delicacy of all, my dear, ha, ha, ha!for you left all your other delicacies for me, ha, ha, ha I--what do yousay to that, May? ha, ha, ha!"

May's reply consisted in putting her hands to her head, with an air ofinexpressible vexation; and finding all her endeavours to be elegantfrustrated by the overpowering vulgarity of her husband, she remainedsilent during the remainder of the repast; solacing herself withcomplacent glances at her yellow silk gown, and adjusting the goldchains and necklaces that adorned her bosom. 

Poor Mary was doomed to a _tete-a-tete_ with her during the wholeevening; for Mr. Gawffaw was too happy _with_ his friend, and _without_his wife, to quit the dining-room till a late hour; and then he was somuch exhilarated, that she could almost have joined Mrs. Gawffaw in herexclamation of "For heaven's sake, Mr. Gawffaw, have mercy on my head!"

The night, however, like all other nights, had a close; and Mrs. Gawffaw, having once more enjoyed the felicity of finding herself incompany at twelve o'clock at night, at length withdraw; and havingapologised, and hoped, and feared, for another hour in Mary's apartment, she finally left her to the blessings of solitude and repose. 

As Mr. Douglas was desirous of reaching Edinburgh the following day, he had, in spite of the urgent remonstrances of his friendly host andthe elegant importunities of his lady, ordered the carriage at an earlyhour; and Mary was too eager to quit Howffend to keep it waiting. Mr. Gawffaw was in readiness to hand her in, but fortunately Mrs. Gaffaw'shead did not permit of her rising. With much the same hearty laugh thathad welcomed their meeting, honest Gawffaw now saluted the departure ofhis friend; and as he went whistling over his gate, he ruminated sweetand bitter thoughts as to the destinies of the day--whether he shouldsolace himself with a good dinner and the company of Bailie Merrythought at the Cross Keys in G----, or put up with cold mutton, and May, at home. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

 "Edina! Scotia's darling seat! All hail thy palaces and tow'rs, Where once, beneath a monarch's feet, Sat legislation's sov'reign pow'rs!"

 BURNS. 

ALL Mary's sensations of admiration were faint compared to those sheexperienced as she viewed the Scottish metropolis. It was associated inher mind with all the local prepossessions to which youth and enthusiasmlove to give "a local habitation and a name;" and visions of older timesfloated o'er her mind as she gazed on its rocky battlements, andtraversed the lonely arcades of its deserted palace. 

"And this was once a gay court!" thought she, as she listened to thedreary echo of her own footsteps; "and this very ground on which I nowstand was trod by the hapless Mary Stuart! Her eye beheld the sameobjects that mine now rests upon; her hand has touched the draperies Inow hold in mine. These frail memorials remain; but what remains ofScotland's Queen but a blighted name!"

Even the blood-stained chamber possessed a nameless charm forMary's vivid imagination. She had not entirely escaped the superstitionsof the country in which she had lived; and she readily yielded herassent to the asseverations of her guide as to its being the _bona fide_blood of _David Rizzio, _ which for nearly three hundred years hadresisted all human efforts to efface. 

"My credulity is so harmless, " said she in answer to her uncle's attemptto laugh her out of her belief, "that I surely may be permitted toindulge it especially since I confess I feel a sort of indescribablepleasure in it. "

"You take a pleasure in the sight of blood!" exclaimed Mr. Douglas inastonishment, "you who turn pale at sight of a cut finger, and shudderat a leg of mutton with the juice in it!"

"Oh! mere modern vulgar blood is very shocking, " answered Mary, with asmile; "but observe how this is mellowed by time into a tint that couldnot offend the most fastidious fine lady; besides, " added she in agraver tone, "I own I love to believe in things supernatural; it seemsto connect us more with another world than when everything is seen toproceed in the mere ordinary course of nature, as it is called. I cannotbear to imagine a dreary chasm betwixt the inhabitants of this world andbeings of a higher sphere; I love to fancy myself surrounded by----"

"I wish to heaven you would remember you are surrounded by rationalbeings, and not fall into such rhapsodies, " said her uncle, glancing ata party who stood near them, jesting upon all the objects which Mary hadbeen regarding with so much veneration. "But come, you have been longenough here. Let us try whether a breeze on the Calton Hill will notdispel these cobwebs from your brain. "

The day, though cold, was clear and sunny; and the lovely spectaclebefore them shone forth in all its gay magnificence. The blue waters laycalm and motionless. The opposite shores glowed in a thousand variedtints of wood and plain, rock and mountain, cultured field and purplemoor. Beneath, the old town reared its dark brow, and the new onestretched its golden lines; while all around the varied charms of naturelay scattered in that profusion which nature's hand alone can bestow. 

"Oh! this is exquisite!" exclaimed Mary after along pause, in which shehad been riveted in admiration of the scene before her. "And you are inthe right, my dear uncle. The ideas which are inspired by thecontemplation of such a spectacle as this are far--oh, howfar!--superior to those excited by the mere works of art. There I can, at best, think but of the inferior agents of Providence; here the soulrises from nature up to nature's God. "

"Upon my soul, you will be taken for a Methodist, Mary, if you talk inthis manner, " said Mr. Douglas, with some marks of disquiet, as heturned round at the salutation of a fat elderly gentleman, whom hepresently recognised as Bailie Broadfoot. 

The first salutations over, Mr. Douglas's fears of Mary having beenoverheard recurred, and he felt anxious to remove any unfavourableimpression with regard to his own principles, at least, from the mind ofthe enlightened magistrate. 

"Your fine views here have set my niece absolutely raving, " said he, with a smile; "but I tell her it is only in romantic minds that finescenery inspires romantic ideas. I daresay many of the worthyinhabitants of Edinburgh walk here with no other idea than that ofsharpening their appetites for dinner. "

"Nae doot, " said the Bailie, "it's a most capital place for that. Wereit no' for that I ken nae muckle use it would be of. "

"You speak from experience of its virtues in that respect, I suppose?"said Mr. Douglas gravely. 

"'Deed, as to that I canna compleen. At times, to be sure, I am troubledwith a little kind of a squeamishness after our public interteenments;but three rounds o' the hill sets a' to rights. "

Then observing Mary's eyes exploring, as he supposed, the town of Leith, "You see that prospeck to nae advantage the day, miss, " said he. "Ifthe glasshouses had been workin', it would have looked as weel again. Ye hae nae glass-houses in the Highlands; na, na. "

The Bailie had a share in the concern; and the volcanic clouds ofsmoke that issued from thence were far more interesting subjects ofspeculation to him than all the eruptions of Vesuvius or Etna. But therewas nothing to charm the lingering view to-day; and he thereforeproposed their taking a look at Bridewell, which, next to the smoke fromthe glass-houses, he reckoned the object most worthy of notice. It wasindeed deserving of the praises bestowed upon it; and Mary was givingher whole attention to the details of it when she was suddenly startledby hearing her own name wailed in piteous accents from one of the lowercells, and, upon turning round, she discovered in the prisoner the sonof one of the tenants of Glenfern. Duncan M'Free had been always lookedupon as a very honest lad in the Highlands, but he had left home to pushhis fortune as a pedlar; and the temptations of the low country havingproved too much for his virtue, poor Duncan as now expiating his offencein durance vile. 

"I shall have a pretty account of you to carry to Glenfern, " said Mr. Douglas, regarding the culprit with his sternest look. 

"Oh 'deed, sir, it's no' my faut!" answered Duncan, blubberingbitterly; "but there's nae freedom at a' in this country. Lord, an' Iwar oot o't! Ane canna ca' their head their ain in't; for ye canna liftthe bouk o' a prin but they're a' upon ye. " And a fresh burst of sorrowensued. 

Finding the _peccadillo_ was of a venial nature, Mr. Douglas besoughtthe Bailie to us his interest to procure the enfranchisement of this hisvassal, which Mr. Broadfoot, happy to oblige a good customer, promisedshould be obtained on the following day; and Duncan's emotions beingrather clamorous, the party found it necessary to withdraw. 

"And noo, " said the Bailie, as they emerged from his place of dole anddurance, "will ye step up to the monument, and tak a rest and somerefreshment?"

"Rest and refreshment in a monument!" exclaimed Mr. Douglas. "Excuseme, my good friend, but we are not inclined to bait there yet a while. "

The Bailie did not comprehend the joke; and he proceeded in his owndrawling humdrum accent to assure them that the monument was a mostconvenient place. 

"It was erected in honour of Lord Neilson's memory, " said he, "and islet aff to a pastrycook and confectioner, where you can always find sometrifles to treat the ladies, such as pies and custards, and berries, andthese sort of things; but we passed an order in the cooncil that thereshould be naething of a spirituous nature introduced; for if ancespirits got admittance there's no saying what might happen. "

This was a fact which none of the party were disposed to dispute; andthe Bailie, triumphing in his dominion over the spirits, shuffled onbefore to do the honours of this place, appropriated at one and the sametime to the manes of a hero and the making of minced pies. The regalewas admirable, and Mary could not help thinking times were improved, andthat it was a better thing to eat tarts in Lord Nelson's Monument thanto have been poisoned in Julius Caesar's. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

"Having a tongue rough as a cat, and biting like an adder, and all theirreproofs are direct scoldings, their common intercourse is opencontumely. "--JEREMY TAYLOR. 

"THOUGH last, not least of nature's works, I must now introduce you to afriend of mine, " said Mr. Douglas, as, the Bailie having made his bow, they bent their steps towards the Castle Hill. "Mrs. Violet Macshake isan aunt of my mother's, whom you must often have heard of, and the lastremaining branch of the noble race of Girnachgowl. "

"I am afraid she is rather a formidable person, then?" said Mary. 

Her uncle hesitated. "No, not formidable--only rather particular, as allold people are; but she is very good-hearted. "

"I understand, in other words, she is very disagreeable. Allill-tempered people, I observe, have the character of beinggood-hearted; or else all good people are ill-tempered, I can't tellwhich. "

"It is more than reputation with her, " said Mr. Douglas, somewhatangrily: "for she is, in reality, a very good-hearted woman, as Iexperienced when a boy at college. Many a crown piece and half-guinea Iused to get from her. Many a scold, to be sure, went along with them;but that, I daresay, I deserved. Besides, she is very rich, and I am herreputed heir; therefore gratitude and self-interest combine to render herextremely amiable in my estimation. "

They had now reached the airy dwelling where Mrs. Macshake resided, andhaving rung, the door was at length most deliberately opened by anancient, sour-visaged, long-waisted female, who ushered them into anapartment, the _coup d'oeil_ of which struck a chill to Mary's heart. Itwas a good-sized room, with a bare sufficiency of small-leggeddining-tables, and lank haircloth chairs, ranged in high order round thewalls. Although the season was advanced, and the air piercing cold, thegrate stood smiling in all the charms of polished steel; and themistress of the mansion was seated by the side of it in an arm-chair, still in its summer position. She appeared to have no other occupationthan what her own meditations afforded; for a single glance sufficed toshow that not a vestige of book or work was harboured there. She was atall, large-boned woman, whom even Time's iron hands scarcely bent, asshe merely stooped at the shoulders. She had a drooping snuffy nose, along turned-up chin, small quick gray eyes, and her face projectedfar beyond her figure, with an expression of shrewd restless curiosity. She wore a mode (not _à-la-mode )_ bonnet, and cardinal of thesame, a pair of clogs over her shoes, and black silk mittens on her arms. 

As soon as she recognised Mr. Douglas she welcomed him with muchcordiality, shook him long and heartily by the hand, patted him on theback, looked into his face with much seeming satisfaction; and, inshort, gave all the demonstrations of gladness usual with gentlewomen ofa certain age. Her pleasure, however, appeared to be rather an_impromptu_ than an habitual feeling; for as the surprise wore off hervisage resumed its harsh and sarcastic expression, and she seemed eagerto efface any agreeable impression her reception might haveexcited. 

"An' wha thought o' seein ye enow?" said she, in a quick gabbling voice. "What brought you to the toon? Are ye come to spend our honest faither'ssiller ere he's weel cauld in his grave, puir man?"

Mr. Douglas explained that it was upon account of his niece's health. 

"Health!" repeated she, with a sardonic smile; "it wad mak' an oollaugh to hear the wark that's made aboot young fowk's health noo-a-days. I wonder what ye're aw made o' "--grasping Mary's arm in her great bonyhand--"a wheen puir feckless windlestraes; ye maun awa' to Ingland forye're healths. Set ye up! I wonder what cam' o' the lasses i' my time, that bute to bide at hame? And whilk o' ye, I sude like to ken, 'II ereleive to see ninety-sax, like me? Health!--he, he !"

Mary, glad of a pretence to in indulge the mirth the old lady's mannerand appearance had excited, joined most heartily in the laugh. 

"Tak. Aff ye're bannet, bairn, an' let me see ye're face. Wha can tellwhat like ye are wi' that snule o' a thing on ye're head?" Then aftertaking an accurate survey of her face, she pushed aside her pelisse. "Weel, it's ae mercy, I see ye hae neither the red heed nor the mucklecuits o' the Douglases. I ken nae whuther ye're faither had them or no. I ne'er set een on him; neither him nor his braw leddie thought it worththeir while to speer after me; but I was at nae loss, by aw accounts. "

"You have not asked after any of your Glenfern friends, " said Mr. Douglas, hoping to touch a more sympathetic chord. 

"Time eneugh. Wull ye let me draw my breath, man? Fowk canna say awthingat ance. An' ye bute to hae an Inglish wife tu; a Scotch lass wad naeserr ye. An' ye're wean, I'se warran', it's ane o' the warld's wonders;it's been unco lang o' cummin--he, he!"

"He has begun life under very melancholy auspices, poor fellow!" saidMr. Douglas, in allusion to his father's death. 

"An' wha's faut was that? I ne'er heard tell the like o't; to hae thebairn kirsened an' its grandfather deein! But fowk are naither born, nor kirsened, nor do they wad or dee as they used to du---awthing'schanged. "

"You must, indeed, have witnessed many changes, " observed Mr. Douglas, rather at a loss how to utter anything of a conciliatory nature. 

"Changes!--weel a wat, I sometimes wonder if it's the same warld, an' if it's my ain heed that's upon my shoothers. "

"But with these changes you must also have seen many improvements?"said Mary, in a tone of diffidence. 

"Impruvements!" turning sharply round upon her; "what ken ye aboutimpruvements, bairn? A bony impruvement or ens no, to see tyleyors andsclaters leavin whar I mind jewks an yerls. An' that great glowrin' newtoon there"--pointing out of her windows--"whar I used to sit an' luckoot at bonny green parks, and see the coos milket, and the bits o'bairnies rowin' an' tummlin, ' an' the lasses trampin i' their tubs--whatsee I noo, but stane an' lime, an' stoor' an' dirt, an' idle cheels, an'dinket-oot madams prancin'. Impruvements, indeed!"

Mary found she was not likely to advance her uncle's fortune by thejudiciousness of her remarks, therefore prudently resolved to hazard nomore. Mr. Douglas, who was more _au fait_ to the prejudices of old age, and who was always amused with her bitter remarks when they did nottouch himself, encouraged her to continue the conversation by someobservation on the prevailing manners. 

"Mainers!" repeated she, with a contemptuous laugh, "what caw yemainers noo, for I dinna ken? Ilk ane gangs bang in till their neebor'shoose, and bang oot o't as it war a chynge-hoose; an' as for the maistero't, he's no o' sae muckle vaalu as tho flunky ahynt his chyre. I' mygrandfather's time, as I hae heard him tell, ilka maister o' a faamilyhad his ain sate in his ain hoose aye, an' sat wi' his hat on his heedafore the best o' the land, an' had his ain dish, an' was aye helpitfirst, an' keepit up his owthority as a man sude du. Paurents warpaurents then; bairnes dardna set up their gabs afore them than as theydu noo. They ne'er presumed to say their heeds war their ain i' thaedays--wife an' servants, reteeners an' childer, aw trummelt i' thepresence o' their heed. "

Here a long pinch of snuff caused a pause in the old lady's harangue;but after having duly wiped her nose with her coloured handkerchief, andshook off all the particles that might be presumed to have lodged uponher cardinal, she resumed--

"An' nae word o' ony o' your sisters gaun to get husbands yet? Theytell me they're but coorse lasses: an' wha'll tak ill-farred tocherlessqueans whan there's walth o' bonny faces an' lang purses i' themarket--he, he!" Then resuming her scrutiny of Mary--"An' I'se warran'ye'll be lucken for an Inglish sweetheart tu that'll be what's takin' yeawa' to Ingland. "

"On the contrary, " said Mr. Douglas, seeing Mary was too muchfrightened to answer for herself--"on the contrary, Mary declares shewill never marry any but a true Highlander--one who wears the dirk andplaid, and has the second-sight. And the nuptials are to be celebratedwith all the pomp of feudal times; with bagpipes, and bonfires, andgatherings of clans, and roasted sheep, and barrels of whisky, and--"

"Weel a wat, an' she's i' the right there, " interrupted Mrs. Macshake, with more complacency than she had yet shown. "They may caw them whatthey like, but there's nae waddins noo. Wha's the better o' them butinnkeepers and chise-drivers? I wud nae count mysel' married i' thehiddlins way they gang aboot it noo. "

"I daresay you remember these, things done in a very different style?"said Mr. Douglas. 

"I dinna mind them whan the war at he best; but I hae heard my mithertell what a bonny ploy was at her waddin. I canna tell ye hoo mony wasat it; mair nor the room wad haud, ye may be sure, for every relationan' freend o' baith sides war there, as well they sude; an' aw in fulldress: the leddies in their hoops round them, an' some o' them hadsutten up aw night till hae their heeds drest; for they hadnae thaepooket-like taps ye hae noo, " looking with contempt at Mary's Greciancontour. "An' the bride's goon was aw shewed ow'r wi' favour, frae thetap doon to the tail, an' aw roond the neck, an' aboot the sleeves; and, as soon as the ceremony was ow'r, ilk ane ran till her, an' rugget an'rave at her for the favours till they hardly left the claise upon herback. Than they did nae run awa as they du noo, but sax an't hretty o'them sat doon till a graund denner, and there was a ball at night, an'ilka night till Sabbath cam' roond; an' than the bride an' thebridegroom, drest in their waddin suits, an' aw their freends 'n theirs, wi' their favours on their breests, walkit in procession till the kirk. An' was nae that something like a waddin? It was worth while to bemarried i' thae days-he, he!"

"The wedding seems to have been admirably conducted, " said Mr. Douglas, with much solemnity. "The christening, I presume, would be the nextdistinguished event in the family?"

"Troth, Archie-an' ye sude keep your thoomb upon kirsnins as lang's yeleeve; yours was a bonnie kirsnin or ens no! I hae heard o' mony things, but a bairn kirsened whan its grandfaither was i' the deed-thraw, Ine'er heard tell o' before. " Then observing the indignation that spreadover Mr. Douglas's face, she quickly resumed, "An' so ye think thekirsnin was the neist ploy? He, he! Na; the cryin was a ploy, for theleddies did nae keep themsels up than as they do noo; but the day afterthe bairn was born, the leddy sat up i' her bed, wi' her fan intill herhand; an' aw her freends earn' an' stud roond her, an' drank her healthan' the bairn's. Than at the leddy's recovery there was a graund suppergien that they caw'd the _cummerfealls, _ an' there was a great pyramido' hens at the tap o' the table, an' anither pyramid o' ducks at thefit, an' a muckle stoup fu' o' posset i' the middle, an' aw kinds o'sweeties doon the sides; an' as sune as ilk ane had eatin their fillthey aw flew till the sweeties, an' fought, an' strave, an' wrastled forthem, leddies an' gentlemen an' aw; for the brag was wha could pocketmaist; an' whiles they wad hae the claith aff the table, an' aw thing i'the middle i' the floor, an' the chyres upside doon. Oo! muckle gudediversion, I'se warran, ' was at the _cummerfealls_. Than whan they haddrank the stoup dry, that ended the ploy. As for the kirsnin, that wasaye whar it sude be--i' the hoose o' God, an' aw the kith an' kin bye infull dress, an' a band o' maiden cimmers aw in white; an' a bonny sightit was, as I've heard my mither tell. "

Mr. Douglas, who was now rather tired of the old lady's reminiscences, availed himself of the opportunity of a fresh pinch to rise and takeleave. 

"Oo, what's takin' ye awa, Archie, in sic a hurry? Sit doon there, "laying her hand upon his arm, "an' rest ye, an' tak a glass o' wine, an'a bit breed; or may be, " turning to Mary, "ye wad rather hae a drapbroth to warm ye. What gars ye luck sae blae, bairn? I'm sure it's nocauld; but ye're juste like the lave; ye gang aw skiltin aboot thestreets half naked, an' than ye maun sit an' birsle yoursels afore thefire at hame. "

She had now shuffled along to the farther end of the room, and opening apress, took out wine, and a plateful of various-shaped articles ofbread, which she handed to Mary. 

"Hae, bairn--tak a cookie; tak it up--what are you fear'd for? It'll nobite ye. Here's t'ye, Glenfern, an' your wife, an' your wean, puir tead;it's no had a very chancy ootset, weel a wat. "

The wine being drunk, and the cookies discussed, Mr. Douglas madeanother attempt to withdraw, but in vain. 

"Canna ye sit still a wee, man, an' let me spear after my auld freens atGlenfern? Hoo's Grizzy, an' Jacky, and Nicky? Aye workin awa at thepills an' the drogs?---he, he! I ne'er swallowed a pill, nor gied a doitfor drogs aw my days, an' see an ony of them'll rin a race wi' me whanthey're naur five score. "

Mr. Douglas here paid her some compliments upon her appearance, whichwere pretty graciously received; and added that he was the bearer of aletter from his Aunt Grizzy, which he would send along with a roebuckand brace of moor-game. 

"Gin your roebuck's nae better than your last, at weel it's no worth thesendin'-poor dry fisinless dirt, no worth the chowing; weel a wat Ibegrudged my teeth on't. Your muirfowl was na that ill, but they're noworth the carryin; they're dong cheap i'the market enoo, so it's naegreat compliment. Gin ye had brought me a leg o' gude mutton, or acauler sawmont, there would hae been some sense in't; but ye're ane o'the fowk that'll ne'er harry yoursel' wi' your presents; it's but thepickle poother they cost you, an' I'se warran' ye're thinkin mail' o'your ain diversion than o' my stamick, when ye're at the shootin' o'them, puir beasts. "

Mr. Douglas had borne the various indignities levelled against himselfand his family with a philosophy that had no parallel in his lifebefore; but to this attack upon his game he was not proof. His colourrose, his eyes flashed fire, and something resembling an oath burst fromhis lips as he strode indignantly towards the door. 

His friend, however, was too nimble for him. She stepped before him, and, breaking into a discordant laugh, as she patted him on the back, "So I see ye're just the auld man, Archie, --aye ready to tak the strums, an' ye dinna get a' thing yer ain wye. Mony a time I had to fleech yeoot o' the dorts whan ye was a callant. Div ye mind hoo ye was affrontedbecause I set ye doon to a cauld pigeon-pie, an' a tanker o' tippenny, ae night to ye're fowerhoors, afore some leddies--he, he, he! Weel a wat, yer wife maun hae her ain adoos to manage ye, for ye're a cumstairychield, Archie. "

Mr. Douglas still looked as if he was irresolute whether to laugh or beangry. 

"Come, come, sit ye do on there till I speak to this bairn, " said she, as she pulled Mary into an adjoining bedchamber, which wore the sameaspect of chilly neatness as the one they had quitted. Then pulling ahuge bunch of keys from her pocket she opened a drawer, out of which shetook a pair of diamond earrings. "Hae, bairn, " said she as she stuffedthem into Mary's hand; "they belanged to your father's grandmother. Shewas a gude woman, an' had fouran'-twenty sons an' dochters, an' I wissye nae war fortin than just to hae as mony. But mind ye, " with a shakeof her bony finger, "they maun a be Scots. Gin I thought ye wad mairryony pock-puddin', fient haed wad ye hae gotten frae me. Noo, had ye'retongue, and dinna deive me wi' thanks, " almost pushing her into theparlour again; "and sin ye're gaun awa the morn, I'll see nae mair o' yeenoo--so fare ye weel. But, Archie, ye maun come an' tak your breakfastwi' me. I hae muckle to say to you; but ye manna be sae hard upon mybaps as ye used to be, " with a facetious grin to her mollifiedfavourite, as they shook hands and parted. 

"Well, how do you like Mrs. Macshake, Mary?" asked her uncle as theywalked home. 

"That is a cruel question, uncle, " answered she, with a smile. "Mygratitude and my taste are at such variance, " displaying her splendidgift, "that I know not how to reconcile them. "

"That is always the case with those whom Mrs. Macshake has obliged, "returned Mr. Douglas. "She does many liberal things, but in soungracious a manner that people are never sure whether they are obligedor insulted by her. But the way in which she receives kindness is stillworse. Could anything equal her impertinence about my roebuck? Faith, I've a good mind never to enter her door again!"

Mary could scarcely preserve her gravity at her uncle's indignation, which seemed so disproportioned to the cause. But, to turn the currentof his ideas, she remarked that he had certainly been at pains to selecttwo admirable specimens of her countrywomen for her. 

"I don't think I shall soon forget either Mrs. Gawffaw or Mrs Macshake, "said she, laughing. 

"I hope you won't carry away the impression that these two _lususnaturae_ specimens of Scotchwomen, " said her uncle. "The former, indeed, is rather a sort of weed that infests every soil; the latter, to besure, is an indigenous plant. I question if she would have arrived atsuch perfection in a more cultivated field or genial clime. She was bornat a time when Scotland was very different from what it is now. Femaleeducation was little attended to, even in families of the highest rank;consequently, the ladies of those days possess a _raciness_ in theirmanners and ideas that we should vainly seek for in this age ofcultivation and refinement. Had your time permitted, you could have seenmuch good society here; superior, perhaps, to what is to be foundanywhere else, as far as mental cultivation is concerned. But you willhave leisure for that when you return. "

Mary acquiesced with a sigh. _Return_ was to her still amelancholy-sounding word. It reminded her of all she had left--of theanguish of separation--the dreariness of absence; and all these painfulfeelings were renewed in their utmost bitterness when the timeapproached for her to bid adieu to her uncle. Lord Courtland's carriageand two respectable-looking servants awaited her; and the followingmorning she commenced her journey in all the agony of a heart thatfondly clings to its native home. 

END OF VOL. I. 

_Printed _by R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh. _

_***_

MARRIAGE (VOL II)

A Novel by Susan Ferrier

"Life consists not of a series of illustrious actions; the greater partof our time passes in compliance with necessities--in the performance ofdaily duties--in the removal of small inconveniences--in the procurementof petty pleasures; and we are well or ill at ease, as the main streamof life glides on smoothly, or is ruffled by small and frequentinterruption. "--JOHNSON. 

Edinburgh Edition

IN TWO VOLUMES

VOLUME II. 

LONDON

RICHARD BENTLEY & SON

Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen

1881

_Printed _by R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_

MARRIAGE. 

CHAPTER I. 

 "Nor only by the warmth And soothing sunshine of delightful things, Do minds grow up and flourish. "

 AKENSIDE. 

AFTER parting with the last of her beloved relatives Mary tried to thinkonly of the happiness that awaited her in a reunion with her mother andsister; and she gave herself up to the blissful reveries of a youngand ardent imagination. Mrs. Douglas had sought to repress, rather thanexcite, her sanguine expectations; but vainly is the experience ofothers employed in moderating the enthusiasm of a glowing heart. Experience _cannot_ be imparted. We may render the youthful mindprematurely cautious, or meanly suspicious; but the experience of a pureand enlightened mind is the result of observation, matured by time. 

The journey, like most modern journeys, was performed in comfort andsafety; and, late one evening, Mary found herself at the goal of herwishes--at the threshold of the house that contained her mother!

One idea filled her mind; but that idea called up a thousand emotions. 

"I am now to meet my mother!" thought she; and, unconscious ofeverything else, she was assisted from the carriage, and conducted intothe house. A door was thrown open; but shrinking from the glare of lightand sound of voices that assailed her, he stood dazzled and dismayed, till she beheld a figure approaching that she guessed to be her mother. Her heart beat violently--a film was upon her eyes--she made an effortto reach her mother's arms, and sank lifeless on her bosom!

Lady Juliana, for such it was, doubted not but that her daughter wasreally dead; for though he talked of fainting every hour of the dayherself, still what is emphatically called a _dead-faint_ was aspectacle no less strange than shocking to her. She was thereforesufficiently alarmed and overcome to behave in a very interestingmanner; and some yearnings of pity even possessed her heart as shebeheld her daughter's lifeless form extended before her--her beautiful, though inanimate features, half hid by the profusion of golden ringletsthat fell around her. But these kindly feelings were of short duration;for no sooner was the nature of her daughter's insensibility asascertained, than all her former hostility returned, as she foundeveryone's attention directed to Mary, and she herself entirelyoverlooked in the general interest she had excited; and her displeasurewas still further increased as Mary, at length slowly unclosing hereyes, stretched out her hands, and faintly articulated, "My mother!"

"Mother! What a hideous vulgar appellation!" thought the fashionableparent to herself; and, instead of answering her daughter's appeal, shehastily proposed that she should be conveyed to her own apartment; then, summoning her maid, she consigned her to her care, slightly touching hercheek as she wished her good-night, and returned to the card-table. Adelaide too resumed her station at the harp, as if nothing had happened;but Lady Emily attended her cousin to her room, embraced her again andagain, as she assured her she loved her already, she was so like herdear Edward; then, after satisfying herself that everything wascomfortable, affectionately kissed her, and withdrew. 

Bodily fatigue got the better of mental agitation; and Mary sleptsoundly, and awoke refreshed. 

"Can it be, " thought she, as she tried to collect her bewilderedthoughts, "can it be that I have really beheld my mother, that I havebeen pressed to her heart, that she has shed tears over me while I layunconscious in her arms? Mother! What a delightful sound; and howbeautiful she seemed! Yet I have no distinct idea of her, my head wasso confused; but I have a vague recollection of something very fair, andbeautiful, and seraph-like, covered with silver drapery, and flowers, and with the sweetest voice in the world. Yet that must be too young formy mother; perhaps it was my sister; and my mother was too much overcometo meet her stranger child. Oh, how happy must I be with such a motherand sister!"

In these delightful cogitations Mary remained till Lady Emily entered. 

"How well you look this morning, my dear cousin, " said she, flying toher; "you are much more like my Edward than you were last night. Ah! andyou have got his smile too! You must let me see that very often. "

"I am sure I shall have cause, " said Mary, returning her cousin'saffectionate embrace; "but at present I feel anxious about my mother andsister. The agitation of our meeting, and my weakness, I fear it hasbeen too much for them;" and she looked earnest in Lady Emily's face fora confirmation of her fears. 

"Indeed, you need be under no uneasiness on their account, " returned hercousin, with her usual bluntness; "their feelings are not so easilydisturbed; you will see them both at breakfast, so come along. "

The room was empty; and again Mary's sensitive heart trembled for thewelfare of those already so dear to her; but Lady Emily did not appearto understand the nature of her feelings. 

"Have a little patience, my dear!" said she, with something of animpatient tone, as she rang for breakfast; "they will be here at theirusual time. Nobody in this house is a slave to hours, or _gêné _witheach other's society. Liberty is the motto here; everybody breakfastswhen and where they please. Lady Juliana, I believe, frequently takeshers in her dressing-room; Papa never is visible till two or threeo'clock; and Adelaide is always late. "

"What a selfish cold-hearted thing is grandeur!" thought Mary, as LadyEmily and she sat like two specks in the splendid saloon, surrounded byall that wealth could purchase or luxury invent; and her thoughtsreverted to the pious thanksgiving and affectionate meeting that gracedtheir social meal in the sweet sunny parlour at Lochmarlie. 

Some of those airy nothings, without a local habitation, who are alwaysto be found flitting about the mansions of the great, now lounged intothe room; and soon after Adelaide made her _entrée. _ Mary, trembling violently, was ready to fall upon her sister's neck, butAdelaide seemed prepared to repel everything like a _scènce _for, with a cold, but sweet, "I hope you are better this morning?" she seatedherself at the opposite side of the table. Mary's blood rushed back toher heart; her eyes filled with tears, she knew not why; for she couldnot analyse the feelings that swelled in her bosom. She would haveshuddered to _think_ her sister unkind, but she _felt_ she was so. 

"It can only be the difference of our manners, " sighed she to herself;"I am sure my sister loves me, though she does not show it in the sameway I should have done;" and she gazed with the purest admiration andtenderness on the matchless beauty of her face and form. Never had shebeheld anything so exquisitely beautiful; and she longed to throwherself into her sister's arms and tell her how she loved her. ButAdelaide seemed to think the present company wholly unworthy of herregard; for, after having received the adulation of the gentlemen, asthey severally paid her a profusion of compliments upon her appearance, "Desire Tomkins, " said she to a footman, "to ask Lady Juliana for the'Morning Post, ' and the second volume of 'Le----, ' of the French novel Iam reading; and say she shall have it again when I have finished it. "

"In what different terms people may express the same meaning, " thoughtMary; "had I been sending a message to my mother, I should have expressedmyself quite differently; but no doubt my sister's meaning is the same, though she may not use the same words. "

The servant returned with the newspaper, and the novel would be sentwhen it could be found. 

"Lady Juliana never reads like anybody else, " said her daughter; "she isfor ever mislaying books. She has lost the first volumes of the two lastnovels that came from town before I had even seen then. "

This was uttered in the softest, sweetest tone imaginable, and as if shehad been pronouncing a panegyric. 

Mary was more and more puzzled. 

"'What can be my sister's meaning here?" thought she. "The words seemedalmost to imply censure; but that voice and smile speak the sweetestpraise. How truly Mrs. Douglas warned me never to judge of people bytheir words. "

At that moment the door opened, and three or four dogs rushed in, followed by Lady Juliana, with a volume of a novel in her hand. AgainMary found herself assailed by a variety of powerful emotions. Sheattempted to rise; but, pale and breathless, she sank back in her chair. 

Her agitation was unmarked by her mother, who did not even appear to besensible of her presence; for, with a graceful bend of her head to thecompany in general, she approached Adelaide, and putting her lips to herforehead, "How do you do, love? I'm afraid you are very angry with meabout that teazing La---I can't conceive where it can be; but here isthe third volume, which is much prettier than the second. "

"I certainly shall not read the third volume before the second, " saidAdelaide with her usual serenity. 

"Then I shall order another copy from town, my love; or I daresay Icould tell you the story of the second volume: it is not at allinteresting, I assure you. Hermilisde, you know--but I forget where thefirst volume left off. "--Then directing her eyes to Mary, who hadsummoned strength to rise, and was slowly venturing to approach her, sheextended a finger towards her. Mary eagerly seized her mother's hand, and pressed it with fervour to her lips; then hid her face on hershoulder to conceal the tears that burst from her eyes. 

"Absurd, my dear!" said her Ladyship in a peevish tone, as shedisengaged herself from her daughter; "you must really get the better ofthis foolish weakness; these _scènes_ are too much for me. I wasmost excessively shocked last night, I assure you, and you ought not tohave quitted your room to-day. "

Poor Mary's tears congealed in her eyes at this tender salutation, andshe raised her head, as if to as certain whether it really proceededfrom her mother; but instead of the angelic vision she had pictured toherself, she beheld a face which, though once handsome, now conveyed nopleasurable feeling to the heart. 

Late hours, bad temper, and rouge had done much to impair Lady Juliana'sbeauty. There still remained enough to dazzle a superficial observer; butnot to satisfy the eye used to the expression of all the best affectionsof the soul. Mary almost shrank from the peevish inanity portrayed onher mother's visage, as a glance of the mind contrasted it with the mildeloquence of Mrs. Douglas's countenance; and, abashed and disappointed, she remained mournfully silent. 

"Where is Dr. Redgill?" demanded Lady Juliana of the company in general. 

"He has got scent of a turtle at Admiral Yellowchops, " answered Mr. P. 

"How vastly provoking, " rejoined her Ladyship, "that he should be out ofthe way the only time I have wished to see him since he came to thehouse!"

"Who is this favoured individual whose absence you are so patheticallylamenting, Julia?" asked Lord Courtland, as he indolently sauntered intothe room. 

"That disagreeable Dr. Redgill. He has gone somewhere to eat turtle atthe very time I wished to consult him about--"

"The propriety of introducing a new niece to your Lordship, " said LadyEmily, as, with affected solemnity, she introduced Mary to her uncle. Lady Juliana frowned--the Earl smiled--saluted his niece--hoped she hadrecovered the fatigue of the journey--remarked it was very cold; andthen turned to a parrot, humming "Pretty Poll, say, " etc. 

Such was Mary's first introduction to her family; and those only who havefelt what it was to have the genial current of their souls chilled byneglect or changed by unkindness can sympathise in the feelings ofwounded affection--when the overflowings of a generous heart areconfined within the narrow limits of its own bosom, and the offerings oflove are rudely rejected by the hand most dear to us. 

Mary was too much intimidated by her mother's manner towards her togive way, in her presence, to the emotions that agitated her; but shefollowed her sister's steps as she quitted the room, and, throwing herarms around her, sobbed in a voice almost choked with the excess of herfeelings, "My sister, love me!-oh! love me!" But Adelaide's heart, seared by selfishness and vanity, was incapable of loving anything inwhich self had no share; and for the first time in her life she feltawkward and embarrassed. Her sister's streaming eyes and supplicatingvoice spoke a language to which she was a stranger; for art is everaverse to recognise the accents of nature. Still less is it capable ofreplying to them; and Adelaide could only wonder at her sister'sagitation, and think how unpleasant it was; and say something aboutovercome, and _eau-de-luce, _ and composure; which was all lost upon Maryas she hung upon her neck, every feeling wrought to its highest tone bythe complicated nature of those emotions which swelled her heart. Atlength, making an effort to regain her composure, "Forgive me, mysister!" said she. "This is very foolish--to weep when I ought torejoice--and I do rejoice--and I know I shall be so happy yet!" but inspite of the faint smile that accompanied her words, tears again burstfrom her eyes. 

"I am sure I shall have infinite pleasure in your society, " repliedAdelaide, with her usual sweetness; and placidity, as she replaced aringlet in its proper position; "but I have unluckily an engagement atthis time. You will, however, be at no loss for amusement; you will findmusical instruments there, " pointing to an adjacent apartment; "and hereare new publications, and _portefeuilles_ of drawings you willperhaps like to look over;" and so saying she disappeared. 

"Musical instruments and new publications!" repeated Mary mechanicallyto herself. "What have I to do with them? Oh for one kind word from mymother's lips!--one kind glance from my sister's eye!"

And she remained overwhelmed with the weight of those emotions, which, instead of pouring into the hearts of others, she was compelled toconcentrate in her own. Her mournful reveries were interrupted by herkind friend Lady Emily; but Mary deemed her sorrow too sacred to bebetrayed even to her, and therefore rallying her spirits, she stroveto enter into those schemes of amusement suggested by her cousin forpassing the day. But she found herself unable for such continuedexertion; and, hearing a large party was expected to dinner, sheretired, in spite of Lady Emily's remonstrance, to her own apartment, where she sought a refuge from her thoughts in writing to her friendsat Glenfern. 

Lady Juliana looked in upon her as she passed to dinner. She was in abetter humour, for she had received a new dress which was particularlybecoming, as both her maid and her glass had attested. 

Again Mary's heart bounded towards the being to whom she owed her birth;yet afraid to give utterance to her feelings, she could only regard herwith silent admiration, till a moment's consideration converted thatinto a less pleasing feeling, as she observed for the first time thather mother wore no mourning. 

Lady Juliana saw her astonishment, and, little guessing the cause, wasflattered by it. "Your style of dress is very obsolete, my dear, " saidshe, as she contrasted the effect of her own figure and her daughter'sin a large mirror; "and there's no occasion for you to wear black here. I shall desire my woman to order some things for you; though perhapsthere won't be much occasion, as your stay here is to be short; and ofcourse you won't think of going out at all. _Apropos, _ you will find itdull here by yourself, won't you? I shall leave you my darling Blanchefor companion, " kissing a little French lap-dog as she laid it in Mary'slap; "only you must be very careful of her, and coax her, and be very, very good to her; for I would not have my sweetest Blanche vexed, notfor the world!" And, with another long and tender salute to her dog, anda "Good-bye, my dear!" to her daughter, she quitted her to display hercharms to a brilliant drawing-room, leaving Mary to solace herself inher solitary chamber with the whines of a discontented lap-dog. 

CHAPTER II. 

"C'est un personnage illustre dans son genre, et qui a porté letalent de se bien nourrir jusques ou il pouvoit aller; . . . Il nesemble né que pour la digestion. "--LA BRUYERE. 

IN every season of life grief brings its own peculiar antidote alongwith it. The buoyancy of youth soon repels its deadening weight, thefirmness of manhood resists its weakening influence, the torpor of oldage is insensible to its most acute pangs. 

In spite of the disappointment she had experienced the preceding day, Mary arose the following morning with fresh hopes of happiness springingin her heart. 

"What a fool I was, " thought she, "to view so seriously what, after all, must be merely difference of manner; and how illiberal to expect everyone's manners should accord exactly with my ideas; but now that I havegot over the first impression, I daresay I shall find everybody quiteamiable and delightful!"

And Mary quickly reasoned herself into the belief that she only couldhave been to blame. With renovated spirits she therefore joined hercousin, and accompanied her to the breakfasting saloon. The visitors hadall departed, but Dr. Redgill had returned and seemed to be at thewinding up of a solitary but voluminous meal. He was a very tallcorpulent man, with a projecting front, large purple nose, and aprofusion of chin. 

"Good morning, ladies, " mumbled he with a full mouth, as he made a feintof half-rising from his chair. "Lady Emily, your servant--Miss Douglas, I presume--hem! allow me to pull the bell for your Ladyship, " as he satwithout stirring hand or foot; then, after it was done--"'Pon myhonour, Lady Emily, this is not using me well Why did you not desire me?And you are so nimble, I defy any man to get the start of you. "

"I know you have been upon hard service, Doctor, and therefore Ihumanely wished to spare you any additional fatigue, " replied LadyEmily. 

"Fatigue, phoo! I'm sure I mind fatigue as little as any man; besidesit's really nothing to speak of. I have merely rode from my friendAdmiral Yellowchops' this morning. "

"I hope you passed a pleasant day there yesterday?"

"So, so--very so, so, " returned the Doctor drily. 

"Only so, so, and a turtle in the case!" exclaimed Lady Emily. 

"Phoo!--as to that, the turtle was neither here nor there. I valueturtle as little as any man. You may be sure it wasn't for that I wentto see my old friend Yellowchops. It happened, indeed, that there _was_a turtle, and a very well dressed one too; but where five and thirtypeople (one half of them ladies, who, of course, are always helpedfirst) sit down to dinner, there's an end of all rational happiness inmy opinion. "

"But at a turtle feast you have surely something much better. You knowyou may have rational happiness any day over a beef-steak. "

"I beg your pardon--that's not such an easy matter. I can assure you itis a work of no small skill to dress a beef-steak handsomely; and, moreover, to eat it in perfection a man must eat it by himself. If onceyou come to exchange words over it, it is useless. I once saw the fineststeak I ever clapped my eyes upon completely ruined by one sillyscoundrel asking another if he liked fat. If he liked fat!--what aquestion for one rational being to ask another! The fact is, abeef-steak is like a woman's reputation, if once it is breathed uponit's good for nothing!"

"One of the stories with which my nurse used to amuse my childhood, "said Mary, "was that of having seen an itinerant conjuror dress abeef-steak on his tongue. "

The Doctor suspended the morsel he was carrying to his mouth, and forthe first time regarded Mary with looks of unfeigned admiration. 

"'Pon my honour, and that was as clever a trick as ever I heard of! Youare a wonderful people, you Scotch--a very wonderful people--but, pray, was she at any pains to examine the fellow's tongue?"

"I imagine not, " said Mary; "I suppose the love of science was notstrong enough to make her run the risk of burning her fingers. "

"It's a thousand pities, " said the Doctor, as he dropped his chin withan air of disappointment. "I am surprised none of your Scotch _scavans_got hold of the fellow and squeezed the secret out of him. It might haveproved an important discovery--a very important discovery; and yourScotch are not apt to let anything escape them--a very searching, shrewd people as ever I knew--and that's the only way to arrive atknowledge. A man must be of a stirring mind if he expects to do good. "

"A poor woman below wishes to se you, sir, " said a servant. 

"These poor women are perfect pests to society, " said the Doctor, as hisnose assumed a still darker hue; "there is no resting upon one's seatfor them--always something the matter! The burn, and bruise, and hackthemselves and their brats, one would really think, on purpose to givetrouble. "

"I have not the least doubt of it, " said Lady Emily; "they must findyour sympathy so soothing. "

"As to that, Lady Emily, if you know as much about poor women as I do, you wouldn't think so much of them as you do. Take my word for it--theyare one and all of them a very greedy, ungrateful set, and require to bekept at a distance. "

"And also to be kept waiting. As poor people's time is their onlywealth, I observe you generally make them pay a pretty large fee in thatway. "

"That is really not what I would have expected from you, Lady Emily. Imust take the liberty to say your Ladyship does me the greatestinjustice. You must be sensible how ready I am to fly, " rising as if hehad been glued to his chair, "when there is any real danger. I'm sure itwas only last week I got up as soon as I had swallowed my dinner to seea man who had fallen down in a fit; and now I am going to this woman, who, I daresay, has nothing the matter with her, before my breakfast iswell down my throat. "

"Who is that gentleman?" asked Mary, as the Doctor at length, with muchreluctance, shuffled out of the room. 

"He is a sort of medical aid-de-camp of papa's, " answered Lady Emily;"who, for the sake of good living, has got himself completelydomesticated here. He is vulgar, selfish, and _gourmand_, as you mustalready have discovered; but these are accounted his greatestperfections, as papa, like all indolent people, must be diverted--and_that_ he never is by genteel, sensible people. He requires somethingmore _piquant, _and nothing fatigues him so much as the conversation of acommonplace, sensible man--one who has the skill to keep his foibles outof sight. Now what delights him in Dr. Redgill, there is no_retenu_--any child who runs may read his character at a glance. "

"It certainly does not require much penetration, " said Mary, "todiscover the Doctor's master-passion; love of ease and self-indulgenceseem to be the pre-dominant features of his mind; and he looks as if, when he sat in an arm-chair, with his toes on the fender and his handscrossed, he would not have an idea beyond 'I wonder what we shall havefor dinner to-day. '"

"I'm glad to hear you say so, Miss Douglas, " said the Doctor, catchingthe last words as he entered the room, and taking them to be thespontaneous effusions of the speaker's own heart; "I rejoice to hear yousay so. Suppose we send for the bill of fare, "--pulling the bell; andthen to the servant, who answered the summons, "Desire Grillade to sendup his bill--Miss Douglas wishes to see it. "

"Young ladies are much more house wifely in Scotland than they are inthis country, " continued the Doctor, seating himself as close aspossible to Mary, --"at least they were when I knew Scotland; but that'snot yesterday, and it's much changed since then, I daresay. I studiedphysic in Edinburgh, and went upon a _tower _through the Highlands. 'Iwas very much pleased with what I saw, I assure you. Fine country insome respects--nature has been very liberal. "

Mary's heart leapt within her at hearing her dear native land praisedeven by Dr. Redgill, and her conscience smote her for the harsh andhasty censure she had passed upon him. "One who can admire the sceneryof the Highlands, " thought she, "must have a mind. It has always beenobserved that only persons of taste were capable of appreciating thepeculiar charms of mountain scenery. A London citizen, or a Lincolnshiregrazier, sees nothing but deformity in the sublime works of nature, "_ergo, _ reasoned Mary, "Dr. Redgill must be of a more elevated way ofthinking than I had supposed. " The entrance of Lady Juliana preventedher expressing the feelings that were upon her lips; but she thoughtwhat pleasure she would have in resuming the delightful theme at anotheropportunity. 

After slightly noticing her daughter, and carefully adjusting herfavourites, Lady Juliana began:--

"I am anxious to consult you, Dr. Redgill, upon the state of this youngperson's health. --You have been excessively ill, my dear, have you not?(My sweetest Blanche, do be quiet!) You had a cough, I think, andeverything that was bad. --And as her friends in Scotland have sent herto me for a short time, entirely on account of her health (My charming, Frisk, your spirits are really too much!), I think it quite proper thatshe should be confined to her own apartment during the winter, that shemay get quite well and strong against spring. As to visiting or goinginto company, that of course must be quite out of the question. You cantell Dr. Redgill, my dear, all about your complaints yourself. "

Mary tried to articulate, but her feelings rose almost to suffocation, and the words died upon her lips. 

"Your Ladyship confounds me, " said the Doctor, pulling out hisspectacles, which, after duly wiping, he adjusted on his nose, andturned their beams full on Mary's face--"I really never should haveguessed there was anything the matter with the young lady. She does looka _leettle_ delicate, to be sure-changing colour, too--but handcool--eye clear--pulse steady, a _leettle_ impetuous, but that'snothing, and the appetite good. I own I was surprised to see you cut sogood a figure after the delicious meals you have been accustomed to inthe North: you must find it miserable picking here. An Englishbreakfast, " glancing with contempt at the eggs, muffins, toast, preserves, etc. Etc. , he had collected round him, "is really a mostinsipid meal. If I did not make a rule of rising early and takingregular exercise, I doubt very much if I should be able to swallow amouthful-there's nothing to whet the appetite here; and it's the sameeverywhere; as Yellowchops says, our breakfasts are a disgrace toEngland. One would think the whole nation was upon a regimen of tea andtoast--from the Land's End to Berwick-upon-Tweed, nothing but tea andtoast. Your Ladyship must really acknowledge the prodigious advantagethe Scotch possess over us in that respect. "

"I thought the breakfasts, like everything else in Scotland, extremelydisgusting, " replied her Ladyship, with indignation. 

"Ha! well, that really amazes me. The people I give up--they are dirtyand greedy--the country, too, is a perfect mass of rubbish, and thedinners not fit for dogs--the cookery, I mean; as to the materials, theyare admirable. But the breakfasts! That's what redeems the land; andevery country has its own peculiar excellence. In Argyleshire you havethe Lochfine herring, fat, luscious, and delicious, just out of thewater, falling to pieces with its own richness--melting away like butterin your mouth. In Aberdeenshire you have the Finnan haddo' with aflavour all its own, vastly relishing--just salt enough to be _piquant, _without parching you up with thirst. In Perthshire there is the Taysalmon, kippered, crisp, and juicy--a very magnificent morsel--a_leettle_ heavy, but that's easily counteracted by a teaspoonful of theAthole whisky. In other places you have the exquisite mutton of thecountry made into hams of a most delicate flavour; flour scones, softand white; oatcake, thin and crisp; marmalade and jams of everydescription; and--but I beg pardon--your Ladyship was upon the subjectof this young lady's health. 'Pon my honour! I can see little thematter. We were just going to look over the bill together when yourLadyship entered. I see it begins with that eternal _soupe__santé, _ and that paltry _potage-an-riz. _ This is the second daywithin a week Monsieur Grillade has thought fit to treat us with them;and it's a fortnight yesterday since I have seen either oyster orturtle soup upon the table. 'Pon my honour! such inattention is infamous. I know Lord Courtland detests _soupe_ _santé, _or, what's thesame thing, he's quite indifferent to it; for I take indifference anddislike to be much the same. A man's indifference to his dinner-is aserious thing, and so I shall let Monsieur Grillade know. " And theDoctor's chin rose and fell like the waves of the sea. 

"What is the name of the physician at Bristol who is so celebrated forconsumptive complaints?" asked Lady Juliana of Adelaide. "I shall send forhim; he is the only person I have any reliance upon. I know he alwaysrecommends confinement for consumption. "

Tears dropped from Mary's eyes. Lady Juliana regarded her with surpriseand severity. 

"How very tiresome! I really can't stand these perpetual_scènes. _ Adelaide, my love, pull the bell for my _eau-de-luce. _Dr. Redgill, place the screen there. This room is insufferably hot. Mydogs will literally be roasted alive;" and her Ladyship fretted about inall the perturbation of ill-humour. 

"'Pon my honour! I don't think the room hot, " said the Doctor, who, froma certain want of tact and capacity of intellect, never comprehended thefeelings of others. "I declare I have felt it much hotter when yourLadyship has complained of the cold; but there's no accounting forpeople's feelings. If you would move your seat a _leettle_ this way, Ithink you would be cooler; and as to your daughter--"

"I have repeatedly desired, Dr. Redgill, that you will not use thesefamiliar appellations when you address me or any of my family, "interrupted Lady Juliana with haughty indignation. 

"I beg pardon, " said the Doctor, nowise discomposed at this rebuff. "Well, with regard to Miss--Miss--this young lady, I assure yourLadyship, you need be under no apprehensions on her account. She's a_leettle_ nervous, that's all--take her about by all means--all youngladies love to go about and see sights. Show her the pump-room, and theball-room, and the shops, and the rope-dancers, and the wild beasts, andthere's no fear of her. I never recommend confinement to man, woman, orchild. It destroys the appetite--and our appetite is the best part ofus. What would we be without appetites? Miserable beings! worse than thebeasts of the field!" And away shuffled the Doctor to admonish MonsieurGrillade on the iniquity of neglecting this the noblest attribute ofman. 

"It appears to me excessively extraordinary, " said Lady Juliana, addressing Mary, "that Mrs. Douglas should have alarmed me so much aboutyour health, when it seems there's nothing the matter with you. Shecertainly showed very little regard for my feelings. I can't understandit; and I must say, if you are not ill, I have been most excessivelyill-used by your Scotch friends. " And, with an air of great indignation, her Ladyship swept out of the room, regardless of the state into whichshe had thrown her daughter. 

Poor Mary's feelings were now at their climax, and she gave way to allthe repressed agony that swelled her heart. Lady Emily, who had beenamusing herself at the other end of the saloon, and had heard nothing ofwhat had passed, flew towards her at sight, of her suffering, andeagerly demanded of Adelaide the cause. 

"I really don't know, " answered Adelaide, lifting her beautiful eyesfrom her book with the greatest composure; "Lady Juliana is always crossof a morning. "

"Oh no!" exclaimed Mary, trying to regain her composure, "the fault ismine. I--I have offended my mother, I know not how. Tell me, oh tell me, how I can obtain her forgiveness!"

"Obtain her forgiveness!" repeated Lady Emily indignantly, "for what?"

"Alas! I know not; but in some way I have displeased my mother; herlooks--her words--her manner--all tell me how dissatisfied she is withme; while to my sister, and even to her very dogs-----Here Mary'sagitation choked her utterance. 

"If you expect to be treated like a dog, you will certainly bedisappointed, " said Lady Emily. "I wonder Mrs. Douglas did not warn youof what you had to expect. She must have known something of LadyJuliana's ways; and it would have been as well had you been betterprepared to encounter them. "

Mary looked hurt, and making an effort to conquer her emotion, she said, "Mrs. Douglas never spoke, of my mother with disrespect; but she didwarn me against expecting too much from her affection. She said I hadbeen too long estranged from her to have retained my place in her heart;but still--"

"You could not foresee the reception you have me with? Nor I neither. Did you, Adelaide?'

"Lady Juliana is sometimes so odd, "answered her daughter in her sweetest tone, "that I really am seldomsurprised at anything she does; but all this _fracas _appears to meperfectly absurd, as nobody minds anything she says. "

"Impossible!" exclaimed Mary; "my duty must ever be to reverence mymother. My study should be to please her, if I only knew how; and oh!would she but suffer me to love her!"

Adelaide regarded her sister for a moment with a look of surprise; thenrose and left the room, humming an Italian air. 

Lady Emily remained with her cousin, but she was a bad comforter. Herindignation against the oppressor was always much stronger than hersympathy with the oppressed; and she would have been more in her elementscolding the mother than soothing the daughter. 

But Mary had not been taught to trust to mortals weak as herself forsupport in the hour of trial. She knew her aid must come from a highersource; and in solitude she sought for consolation. 

"This must be all for my good, " sighed she, "else it would not be. I haddrawn too bright a picture of happiness; already it is blotted out withmy tears. I must set about replacing it with one of soberer colours. "

Alas! Mary knew not how many a fair picture of human felicity had sharedthe same fate as hers!

CHAPTER III. 

 "They were in sooth a most enchanting train; . . Skilful to unite With evil good, and strew with pleasure pain. "

 _Castle of Indolence. _

IN writing to her maternal friend Mary did not follow the mode usuallyadopted by young ladies of the heroic cast, viz. That of giving a minuteand circumstantial detail of their own complete wretchedness, andabusing, in terms highly sentimental, every member of the family withwhom they are associated. Mary knew that to breathe a hint of her ownunhappiness would be to embitter the peace of those she loved; and shetherefore strove to conceal from their observation the disappointmentshe had experienced. Many a sigh was heaved, however, and many a tearwas wiped away ere a letter could be composed that would carry pleasureto the dear group at Glenfern. She could say nothing of her mother'stenderness or her sister's affection, but she dwelt upon the elegance ofthe one and the beauty of the other. She could not boast of the warmthof her uncle's reception, but she praised his good-humour, and enlargedupon Lady Emily's kindness and attention. Even Dr. Redgill's admirationof Scotch breakfasts was given as a _bonne bouche_ for her good oldaunts. 

"I declare, " said Miss Grizzy, as she ended her fifth perusal of theletter, "Mary must be a happy creature, everybody must allow; indeed Inever heard it disputed that Lady Juliana is a most elegant being; and Idaresay she is greatly improved since we saw her, for you know that is along time ago. "

"The mind may improve after a certain age, " replied Jacky, with one ofher wisest looks, "but I doubt very much if the person does. "

"If the inside had been like the out, there would have been no need forimprovement, " observed Nicky. 

"I'm sure you are both perfectly right, " resumed the sapient Grizzy, "and I have not the least doubt but that our dear niece is a great dealwiser than when we knew her; nobody can deny but she is a great dealolder; and you know people always grow wiser as they grow older, ofcourse. "

"They _ought_ to do it, " said Jacky, with emphasis. 

"But there's no fool like an old fool, " quoth Nicky. 

"What a delightful creature our charming niece Adelaide must be, fromMary's account, " said Grizzy; "only I can't conceive how her eyes cometo be black. I'm sure there's not a black eye amongst us. TheKilnacroish family are black, to be sure; and Kilnacroish'sgreat-grandmother was first cousin, once removed, to our grandfather'saunt, by our mother's side. It's wonderful the length that resemblancesrun in some old families; and I really can't account for our nieceAdelaide's black eyes naturally any other way than just through theKilnacroish family; for I'm quite convinced it's from us she takesthem, --children always take their eyes from their father's side;everybody knows that Becky's, and Bella's, and Baby's are all as liketheir poor father's as they can stare. "

"There's no accounting for the varieties of the human species, " saidJacky. 

"And like's an ill mark, " observed Nicky. 

"And only think of her being so much taller than Mary, and twins! Ideclare it's wonderful--I should have thought, indeed I never doubted, that they would have been exactly the same size. And such a beautifulcolour too, when we used to think Mary rather pale; it's veryunaccountable!"

"You forget, " said Jacky, who had not forgot the insult offered to hernursing system eighteen years before; "you forget that I alwayspredicted what would happen. "

"I never knew any good come of change, " said Nicky. 

"I'm sure that's very true, " rejoined Grizzy; "and we have great reasonto thank our stars that Mary is not a perfect dwarf; which I reallythought she would have been for long, till she took a shooting, --summerwas a year. "

"But she'll shoot no more, " said Jacky, with a shake of the head thatmight have vied with Jove's imperial nod; "England's not the place forshooting. "

"The Englishwomen are all poor droichs, " said Nicky, who had seen threein the course of her life. 

"It's a great matter to us all, however, and to herself too, poor thing, that Mary should be so happy, " resumed Grizzy. "I'm sure I don't knowwhat she would have done if Lord Courtland had been an ill-temperedharsh man, which, you know, he might just as easily have been; and itwould really have been very hard upon poor Mary--and Lady Emily such asweet creature too! I'm sure we must all allow we have the greatestreason to be thankful. "

"I don't know, " said Jacky; "Mary was petted enough before, I wish shemay have a head to stand any more. "

"She'll be ten times nicer than ever, " quoth Nicky. 

"There is some reason, to be sure, that can't be denied, to be afraid ofthat; at the same time, Mary has a great deal of sense of her own whenshe chooses; and it's a great matter for her, and indeed for all of us, that she is under the eye of such a sensible worthy man as that Dr. Redgill. Of course we may be sure Lord Courtland will keep a mostelegant table, and have a great variety of sweet things, which arecertainly very tempting for young people; but I have no doubt but Dr. Redgill will look after Mary, and see that she doesn't eat too many ofthem. "

"Dr. Redgill must be a very superior man, " pronounced Jacky, in hermost magisterial manner. 

"If I could hear of a private opportunity, " exclaimed Nicky, in atransport of generosity, "I would send him one of our hams, and a nicelittle pig [1] of butter--the English are all great people forbutter. "

The proposal was hailed with rapture by both sisters in a breath; and itwas finally settled that to those tender pledges of Nicky's, Grizzyshould add a box of Lady Maclaughlan's latest invented pills, while MissJacky was to compose the epistle that was to accompany them. 

The younger set of aunts were astonished that Mary had said nothingabout lovers and offers of marriage, as they had always considered goingto England as synonymous with going to be married. 

To Mrs. Douglas's more discerning eye, Mary's happiness did not appearin so dazzling a light as to the weaker optics of her aunts. 

"It is not like my Mary, " thought she, "to rest so much on mere externaladvantages; surely her warm affectionate heart cannot be satisfied withthe _grace_ of a mother and the _beauty_ of a sister. These she mightadmire in a stranger; but where we seek for happiness we better prizemore homely attributes. Yet Mary is so open and confiding, I think shecould not have concealed from me had she experienced a disappointment. "

Mrs. Douglas was not aware of the effect of her own practical lessons;and that, while she was almost unconsciously practising the quietvirtues of patience, and fortitude, and self-denial, andunostentatiously sacrificing her own wishes to promote the comfort ofothers, her example, like a kindly dew, was shedding its silentinfluence on the embryo blossoms of her pupil's heart. 

[1] Jar. 

CHAPTER IV. 

". . . So the devil prevails often; _opponit nubem, _ he claps cloudbetween; some little objection; a stranger is come; or my head aches; orthe church is too cold; or I have letters to write; or I am notdisposed; or it is not yet time; or the time is past; these, and such asthese, are the clouds the devil claps between heaven and us; but theseare such impotent objections, that they were as soon confuted, aspretended, by all men that are not fools, or professed enemies ofreligion. " --JEREMY TAYLOR. 

LADY Juliana had in vain endeavoured to obtain a sick certificate forher daughter, that would have authorised her consigning her to theoblivion of her own apartment. The physicians whom she consulted allagreed, for once, in recommending a totally different system to bepursued; and her displeasure, in consequence, was violently excitedagainst the medical tribe in general, and Dr. Redgill in particular. Forthat worthy she had indeed always entertained a most thorough contemptand aversion; for he was poor, ugly, and vulgar, and these were thethree most deadly sins in her calendar. The object of her detestationwas, however, completely insensible to its effects. The Doctor, likeAchilles, was vulnerable but in one part, and over that she couldexercise no control. She had nothing to do with the _ménage_--possessedno influence over Lord Courtland, nor authority over Monsieur Grillade. She differed from himself as to the dressing of certain dishes; and, inshort, he summed up her character in one emphatic sentence, that in hisidea conveyed severer censure than all that Pope or Young ever wrote--"I don't think she has the taste of her mouth!"

Thus thwarted in her scheme, Lady Juliana's dislike to her daughterrather increased than diminished; and it was well for Mary that lessonsof forbearance had been early infused into her mind; for her spirit wasnaturally high, and would have revolted from the tyranny and injusticewith which she was treated had she not been taught the practical dutiesof Christianity, and that "patience, with all its appendages, is thesum total of all our duty that is proper to the day of sorrow. "

Not that Mary sought, by a blind compliance with all her mother'sfollies and caprices, to ingratiate herself into her favour--even themotive she would have deemed insufficient to have sanctified the deed;and the only arts she employed to win a place in her parent's heart wereready obedience, unvarying sweetness, and uncomplaining submission. 

Although Mary possessed none of the sour bigotry of a narrow mind, shewas yet punctual in the discharge of her religious duties; and theSunday following her arrival, as they sat at breakfast, she inquired ofher cousin at what time the church service began. 

"I really am not certain--I believe it is late, " replied her cousincarelessly. "But why do you ask?'

"Because I wish to be there in proper time. "

"But we scarcely ever go--never, indeed, to the parish church--and weare rather distant from any other; so you must say your prayers at home. "

"I would certainly prefer going to church, " said Mary. 

"Going to church!" exclaimed Dr. Redgill in amazement. "I wonder whatmakes people so keen of going to church! I'm sure there's little good tobe got there. For my part, I declare I would just as soon think of goinginto my grave. Take my word for it, churches and churchyards are rathertoo nearly related. "

"In such a day as this, " said Mary, "so dry and sunny, I am sure therecan be no danger. "

"Take your own way, Miss Mary, " said the Doctor; "but I think it myduty to let you know my opinion of churches. I look upon them asextremely prejudicial to the health. They are invariably either toohot or too cold; you are either stewed or starved in them; and, till someimprovement takes place, I assure you my foot shall never enter one ofthem. In fact, they are perfect receptacles of human infirmities. I cantell you one of your church-going ladies at a glance; they have allrheumatisms in their shoulders, and colds in their heads, and swelledfaces. Besides it's a poor country church--there's nothing to be seenafter you do go. "

"I assure you Lady Juliana will be excessively annoyed if you go, " saidLady Emily, as Mary rose to leave the room. 

"Surely my mother cannot be displeased at my attending church!" saidMary in astonishment. 

"Yes, she can, and most certainly will. She never goes herself now, since she had a quarrel with Dr. Barlow, the clergyman; and she can'tbear any of the family to attend him. "

"And you have my sanction for staying away, Miss Mary, " added theDoctor. 

"Is he a man of bad character?" asked Mary, as she stood irresolutewhether to proceed. 

"Quite the reverse. He is a very good man; but he was scandalised atLady Juliana's bringing her dogs to church one day, and wrote her whatshe conceived a most insolent letter about it. But here come yourlady-mamma and the culprits in question. "

"Your Ladyship is just come in time to settle a dispute here, " said theDoctor, anxious to turn her attention from a hot muffin, which had justbeen brought in, and which he meditated appropriating to himself: "Ihave said all I can--(Was you looking at the toast, Lady Emily?)--I mustnow leave it to your Ladyship to convince this young lady of the follyof going to church. "

The Doctor gained his point. The muffin was upon his own plate, whileLady Juliana directed her angry look towards her daughter. 

"Who talks of going to church?" demanded she. 

Mary gently expressed her wish to be permitted to attend divine service. 

"I won't permit it. I don't approve of girls going about by themselves. It is vastly improper, and I won't hear of it. "

"It is the only place I shall ask to go to, " said Mary timidly; "but Ihave always been accustomed to attend church, and---"

"That is a sufficient reason for my choosing that you should not attendit here. I won't suffer a Methodist in the house. "

"I assure you the Methodists are gaining ground very fast, " said theDoctor, with his mouth full. 'Pon my soul, I think it's very alarming!"

"Pray, what is so alarming in the apprehension? asked Lady Emily. 

"What is so alarming! 'Pon my honour, Lady Emily, I'm astonished to hearyou ask such a question!"--muttering to himself, "zealots--fanatics--enthusiasts--bedlamites! I'm sure everybody knows what Methodists are!"

"There has been quite enough said upon the subject, " said Lady Juliana. 

"There are plenty of sermons in the house, Miss Mary, " continued theDoctor, who, like many other people, thought he was always doing ameritorious action when he could dissuade anybody from going to church. "I saw a volume somewhere not long ago; and at any rate there's theSpectator, if you want Sunday's reading--some of the papers there are asgood as any sermon you'll get from Dr. Barlow. "

Mary, with fear and hesitation, made another attempt to overcome hermother's prejudice, but in vain. 

"I desire I may hear no more about it!" cried she, raising her voice. "The clergyman is a most improper person. I won't suffer any of myfamily to attend his church; and therefore, once for all, I won't hearanother syllable on the subject. "

This was said in a tone and manner not to be disputed, and Mary felt herresolution give way before the displeasure of her mother. A contest ofduties was new to her, and she could not all at once resolve uponfulfilling one duty at the expense of another. "Besides, " thought she, "my mother thinks she is in the right. Perhaps, by degrees, I may bringher to think otherwise; and it is surely safer to try to conciliate thanto determine to oppose. "

But another Sabbath came, and Mary found she had made no progress inobtaining the desired permission. She therefore began seriously tocommune with her own heart as to the course she ought to pursue. 

The commandment of "Honour thy father and thy mother" had been deeplyimprinted on her mind, and few possessed higher notions of filialreverence; but there was another precept which also came to herrecollection. "Whosoever loveth father and mother more than me cannot bemy disciple. " "But I may honour and obey my parent without loving hermore than my Saviour, " argued she with herself, in hopes of lulling herconscience by this reflection. "But again, " thought she, "the Scripturesaith, 'He that keepeth my commandments, he it is that loveth me. '" Thenshe felt the necessity of owning that if she obeyed the commands of hermother, when in opposition to the will of her God, she gave one of theScripture proofs of either loving or fearing her parent upon earth morethan her Father which is in heaven. But Mary, eager to reconcileimpossibilities--viz. The will of an ungodly parent with the holycommands of her Maker--thought now of another argument to calm herconscience. "The Scripture, " said she, "says nothing positive aboutattending public worship; and, as Lady Emily says, I may say my prayersjust as well at home. " But the passages of Scripture were too deeplyimprinted on her mind to admit of this subterfuge. "Forsake not theassembling of yourselves together. " "Where two or three are gatheredtogether in my name, there will I be in the midst of them, " etc. Etc. Butalas! two or three never were gathered together at Beech Park, exceptupon parties of pleasure, games of hazard, or purposes of conviviality. 

The result of Mary's deliberations was a firm determination to do whatshe deemed her duty, however painful. And she went in search of LadyEmily, hoping to prevail upon her to use her influence with Lady Julianato grant the desired permission; or, should she fail in obtaining it, shetrusted her resolution would continue strong enough to enable her haveher mother's displeasure in this act of conscientious disobedience. Shemet her cousin, with her bonnet on, prepared to go out. 

"Dear Lady Emily, " said she, "let me entreat of you to use yourinfluence with my mother to persuade her to allow me to go to church. "

"In the first place, " answered her cousin, "you may know that I have noinfluence;--in the second, that Lady Juliana is never to be persuadedinto any thing;--in the third, I really can't suppose you are serious inthinking it a matter of such vast moment whether or not you go tochurch. "

"Indeed I do, " answered Mary earnestly. "I have been taught to considerit as such; and----"

"Pshaw! nonsense! these are some of your stiff-necked Presbyteriannotions. I shall really begin to suspect you are a Methodist and yet youare not at all like one. "

"Pray, tell me, " said Mary, with a smile, "what are your ideas ofa Methodist?"

"Oh! thank heaven, I know little about them!--almost as little as Dr. Redgill, who, I verily believe, could scarcely tell the differencebetwixt a Catholic and a Methodist, except that the one dances andt'other prays. But I am rather inclined to believe it is a sort of ascowling, black-browed, hard-favoured creature, with its greasy haircombed straight upon its flat forehead, and that twirls its thumbs, andturns up its eyes, and speaks through its nose and, in short, iseverything that you are not, except in this matter--of going to church. So, to avert all these evil signs from falling upon you, I shall make apoint of your keeping company with me for the rest of the day. "

Again Mary became serious, as she renewed her entreaties to hercousin to intercede with Lady Juliana that she might be allowed toattend _any_ church. 

"Not for kingdoms!" exclaimed she. "Her Ladyship is in one of her mostdetestable humours to-day; not that I should mind that, if it wasanything of real consequence that I had to compass for you. A ball, forinstance--I should certainly stand by you there but I am really not sofond of mischief as to enrage her for nothing!"

"Then I fear I must go to church without it, " said Mary in a melancholytone. 

"If you are to go at all, it must certainly be without it. And here isthe carriage--get your bonnet, and come along with me. You shall atleast have a sight of the church. "

Mary went to put on her pelisse; and, descending to join her cousin inthe drawing-room, she found her engaged in an argument with Dr. Redgill. How it had commenced did not appear; but the Doctor's voice was raisedas if to bring it to a decided termination. 

"The French, madam, in spite of your prejudices, are a very superiornation to us. Their skill and knowledge are both infinitely higher. Every man in France is a first-rate cook--in fact, they are a nation ofcooks; and one of our late travellers assures us that they havediscovered three hundred methods of dressing eggs, for one thing. "

"That is just two hundred and ninety-nine ways more than enough, " saidLady Emily "give me a plain boiled egg, and I desire no other variety ofthe produce of a hen till it takes the form of a chicken. "

Dr. Redgill lowered his eyebrows and drew up his chin, but disdainedto waste more arguments upon so tasteless a being. "To talk sense to awoman is like feeding chickens upon turtle soup, " thought he tohimself. 

As for Lady Juliana, she exulted in the wise and judicious manner inwhich she had exercised her authority, and felt her consequence greatlyincreased by a public display of it--power being an attributes he wasvery seldom invested with now. Indeed, to do her Ladyship justice, shewas most feelingly alive to the duty due to parents, though that such acommandment existed seemed quite unknown to her till she became amother. But she made ample amends for former deficiencies now; as tohear her expatiate on the subject, one would have deemed it the onlyduty necessary to be practised, either by Christian or heathen, andthat, like charity, it comprehended every virtue, and was a covering forevery sin. But there are many more sensible people than her Ladyship whoentertain the same sentiments, and, by way of variety, reverse the timeand place of their duties. When they are children, they make manyjudicious reflections on the duties of parents; when they becomeparents, they then acquire a wonderful insight into the duties ofchildren. In the same manner husbands and wives are completely alive tothe duties incumbent upon each other, and the most ignorant servant isfully instructed in the duty of a master. But we shall leave LadyJuliana to pass over the duties of parents, and ponder upon those ofchildren, while we follow Lady Emily and Mary in their airing. 

The road lay by the side of a river; and though Mary's taste had beenformed upon the wild romantic scenery of the Highlands, she yet lookedwith pleasure on the tamer beauties of an English landscape. And thoughaccustomed to admire even "rocks where the snowflake reposes;" she hadalso taste, though of a less enthusiastic kind, for the "gay landscapesand gardens of roses, " which, in this more genial clime, bloomed evenunder winter's sway. The carriage drove smoothly along, and the sound ofthe church bell fell at intervals on the ear, "in cadence sweet, nowdying all away;" and, at the holy sound, Mary's heart flew back to thepeaceful vale and primitive kirk of Lochmarlie, where all her happySabbath had been spent. The view now opened upon the village church, beautifully situated on the slope of a green hill. Parties of stragglingvillagers in their holiday suits were descried in all directions, somealready assembled in the churchyard, others traversing the neatfootpaths that led through the meadows. But to Mary's eyes thewell-dressed English rustic, trudging along the smooth path, was a farless picturesque object than the barefooted Highland girl, bounding overtrackless heath-covered hills; and the well-preserved glossy blue coatseemed a poor substitute for the varied drapery of the graceful plaid. 

So much do early associations tincture all our future ideas. 

They had now reached the church, and as Mary adhered to her resolutionof attending divine worship, Lady Emily declared her intention ofaccompanying her, that she might come in for her share of Lady Juliana'sdispleasure; but in spite of her levity, the reverend aspect, and meek, yet fervent piety of Dr. Barlow, impressed her with better feelings; andshe joined in the service with outward decorum if not with inwarddevotion. The music consisted of an organ, simply but well played; andto Mary, unaccustomed to any sacred sounds save those twanged throughthe nose of a Highland _precentor, _ it seemed the music of the spheres. 

Far different sounds than those of peace and praise awaited her return. Lady Juliana, apprised of this open act of rebellion, was in all theparoxysms incident to a little mind on discovering the impotence of itspower. She rejected all attempts at reconciliation; raved aboutingratitude and disobedience; declared her determination of sending Maryback to her vulgar Scotch relations one moment--the next protestedshe should never see those odious Methodists again; then she was to takeher to France, and shut her up in a convent, etc. , till, after utteringall the incoherences usual with ladies in a passion, she at lastsucceeded in raving herself into a fit of hysterics. 

Poor Mary was deeply affected at this (to her) tremendous display ofpassion. She who had always been used to the mild placidity of Mrs. Douglas, and who had seen her face sometimes clouded with sorrow, butnever deformed by anger-what a spectacle! To behold a parent subject tothe degrading influence of an ungovernable temper! Her very soulsickened at the sight; and while she wept over her mother's weakness, she prayed that the Power which stayed the ocean's wave would mercifullyvouchsafe to still the wilder tempests of human passion. 

CHAPTER V. 

 "Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain, Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain. "

 SHAKESPEARE. 

IN addition to her mother's implacable wrath and unceasing animadversionMary found she was looked upon as a sort of alarming character by thewhole family. Lord Courtland seemed afraid of being drawn into areligious controversy every time he addressed her. Dr. Redgill retreatedat her approach and eyed her askance, as much as to say, "'Pon myhonour, a young lady that can fly in her mother's face about such atrifle as going to church is not very safe company. " And Adelaideshunned her more than ever, as if afraid of coming in contact with aprofessed Methodist. Lady Emily, however, remained staunch to her; andthough she had her own private misgivings as to her cousin's creed, sheyet stoutly defended her from the charge of Methodism, and maintainedthat, in many respects, Mary was no better than her neighbours. 

"Well, Mary, " cried she, as she entered her room one day with an air ofexultation, "here is an opportunity for you to redeem your character. There, " throwing down a card, "is an invitation for you to a fancy ball. "

Mary's heart bounded at the mention of a ball. She had never been atone, and it was pictured in her imagination in all the glowing colourswith which youth and inexperience deck untried pleasures. 

"Oh, how charming!" exclaimed she, with sparkling eyes, "how my auntsBecky and Bella will love to hear an account of a ball! And a fancyball!--what is that?"

Lady Emily explained to her the nature of the entertainment, and Marywas in still greater raptures. 

"It will be a perfect scene of enchantment, I have no doubt, " continuedher cousin, "for Lady M. Understands giving balls, which is what everyone does not; for there are dull balls as well as dull every things elsein the world. But come, I have left Lady Juliana and Adelaide in granddebate as to their dresses. We must also hold a cabinet council uponours. Shall I summon the inimitable Slash to preside?"

"The mention of her mother recalled Mary's thoughts from the festivescene to which they had already flown. 

"But are you _quite_ sure, " said she, "that I shall have my mother'sconsent to go?"

"Quite the contrary, " answered her cousin coolly. "She won't hear ofyour going. But what signifies that? You could go to church in spite ofher, and surely you can't think her consent of much consequence to aball?"

Poor Mary's countenance fell, as the bright vision of her imaginationmelted into air. 

"Without my mother's permission, " said she, "I shall certainly not thinkof, or even wish--" with a sigh--"to go to the ball, and if she hasalready refused it that is enough. "

Lady Emily regarded her with astonishment. "Pray, is it only on Sundaysyou make a point of disobeying your mother?"

"It is only when I conceive a higher duty is required of me, " answeredMary. 

"Why, I confess I used to think that to honour one's father and mother_was _a duty, till you showed me the contrary. I have to thank you forridding me of that vulgar prejudice. And now, after setting me such anoble example of independence, you seem to have got a new light on thesubject yourself. "

"My obedience and disobedience both proceed from the same source, "answered Mary. "My first duty, I have been taught, is to worship myMaker--my next to obey my mother. My own gratification never can come incompetition with either. "

"Well, I really can't enter into a religious controversy with you; butit seems to me the sin, if it is one, is precisely the same, whether youplay the naughty girl in going to one place or another. I can see nodifference. "

"To me it appears very different, " said Mary; "and therefore I should beinexcusable were I to choose the evil, believing it to be such. "

"Say what you will, " cried her cousin pettishly, "you never will convinceme there can be any harm in disobeying such a mother as yours--sounreasonable--so--"

"The Bible makes no exceptions, " interrupted Mary gently; "it is notbecause of the reasonableness of our parents' commands that we arerequired to obey them, but because it is the will of God. "

"You certainly are a Methodist--there's no denying it. I have foughtsome hard battles for you, but I see I must give you up. The thing won'tconceal. " This was said with such an air of vexation that Mary burstinto a fit of laughter. 

"And yet you are the oddest compound, " continued her cousin, "so gayand comical, and so little given to be shocked and scandalised at thewicked ways of others; or to find fault and lecture; or, in short, to doany of the insufferable things that your good people are so addicted to. I really don't know what to think of you. "

"Think of me as a creature with too many faults of her own to presume tomeddle with those of others, " replied Mary, smiling at her cousin'sperplexity. 

"Well, if all good people were like you, I do believe I should become asaint myself. If you are right, I must be wrong; but fifty years hencewe shall settle that matter with spectacles on nose over our familyBibles. In the meantime the business of the ball-room is much morepressing. We really must decide upon something. Will you choose your ownstyle, or shall I leave it to Madame Trieur to do us up exactly alike?"

"You have only to choose for yourself, my dear cousin, " answered Mary. "You know I have no interest in it--at least not till I have receivedmy mother's permission. "

"I have told you already there is no chance of obtaining it. I had a_brouillerie_ with her on the subject before I came to you. "

"Then I entreat you will not say another word. It is a thing of solittle consequence, that I am quite vexed to think that my mother shouldhave been disturbed about it. Dear Lady Emily, if you love me, promisethat you will not say another syllable on the subject. "

"And this is all the thanks I get for my trouble and vexation, "exclaimed Lady Emily, angrily; "but the truth is, I believe you think itwould be a sin to go to a ball; and as for dancing--oh, shocking! Thatwould be absolute ---. I really can't say the bad word you good peopleare so fond of using. "

"I understand your meaning, " answered Mary, laughing; "but, indeed, Ihave no such apprehensions. On the contrary, I am very fond of dancing;so fond, that I have often taken Aunt Nicky for my partner in aStrathspey rather than sit still--and, to confess my weakness, I shouldlike very much to go to a ball. "

"Then you must and shall go to this one. It is really a pity that youshould have enraged Lady Juliana so much by that unfortunatechurch-going; but for that, I think she might have been managed; and evennow, I should not despair, if you would, like a good girl, beg pardonfor what is past, and promise never to do so any more. "

"Impossible!" replied Mary. "You surely cannot be serious insupposing I would barter a positive duty for a trifling amusement?"

"Oh, hang duties! they are odious things. And as for your amiable, dutiful, virtuous Goody Two-Shoes characters, I detest them. They neverwould go down with me, even in the nursery, with all he attractions of agold watch and coach and six. They were ever my abhorrence, as everyspecies of canting and hypocrisy still is---"

Then struck with a sense of her own violence and impetuosity, contrastedwith her cousin's meek unreproving manner, Lady Emily threw her armsround her, begging pardon, and assuring her she did not mean her. 

"If you had, " said Mary, returning her embrace, "you would only have toldme what I am in some respects. Dull and childish, I know I am; for I amnot the same creature I was at Lochmarlie"--and a tear trembled in hereye as she spoke--"and troublesome, I am sure, you have found me. "

"No, no!" eagerly interrupted Lady Emily; "you are the reverse ofall that. You are the picture of my Edward, and everything that isexcellent and engaging; and I see by that smile you will go to theball--there's a darling!"

Mary shook her head. 

"I'll tell you what we can do, " cried her persevering patroness; "wecan go as masks, and Lady Juliana shall know nothing about it. That willsave the scandal of an open revolt or a tiresome dispute. Half thecompany will be masked; so, if you keep your own secret, nobody willfind it out. Come, what characters shall we choose?"

"That of Janus, I think, would be the most suitable for me, " said Mary. Then, in a serious tone, she added, "I can neither disobey nor deceivemy mother. Therefore, once for all, my dear cousin, let me entreat ofyou to be silent on a subject on which my mind is made up. I amperfectly sensible of your kindness, but any further discussion will bevery painful to me. "

Lady Emily was now too indignant to stoop to remonstrance. She quittedher cousin in great anger, and poor Mary felt as if she had lost her onlyfriend. 

"Alas!" sighed she, "how difficult it is to do right, when even thevirtues of others throw obstacles in our way! And how easy our dutieswould be could we kindly aid one another in the performance of them!"

But such is human nature. The real evils of life, of which we so loudlycomplain, are few in number, compared to the daily, hourly pangs weinflict on one another. 

Lady Emily's resentment, though violent, was short-lived; and in thecertainty that either the mother would relent or the daughter rebel, sheordered a dress for Mary; but the night of the ball arrived, and bothremained unshaken in their resolution. With a few words Adelaide mighthave obtained the desired permission for her sister; but she chose toremain neuter, coldly declaring she never interfered in quarrels. 

Mary beheld the splendid dresses and gay countenances of the party forthe ball with feelings free from envy, though perhaps not wholly unmixedwith regret. She gazed with the purest admiration on the extreme beautyof her sister, heightened as it was by the fantastic elegance of herdress, and contrasted with her own pale visage and mourning habiliments. 

"Indeed, " thought she, as she turned from the mirror, with rather amournful smile, "my Aunt Nicky was in the right: I certainly am a poor_shilpit_ thing. "

As she looked again at her sister she observed that her earrings werenot so handsome as those she had received from Mrs. Macshake; and sheinstantly brought them, and requested Adelaide would wear them for thatnight. 

Adelaide took them with her usual coolness--remarked how verymagnificent they were--wished some old woman would take it into her headto make her such a present; and, as she clasped them in her ears, regarded herself with increased complacency. The hour of departurearrived; Lord Courtland and Lady Juliana were at length ready, and Maryfound herself left to a _tete-à-tete_ with Dr. Redgill; and, strange as it may seem, neither in a sullen nor melancholy mood. Butafter a single sigh, as the carriage drove off, she sat down with acheerful countenance to play backgammon with the Doctor. 

The following day she heard of nothing but the ball and its delights;for both her mother and her cousin sought (though from differentmotives) to heighten her regret at not having been there. But Marylistened to the details of all she had missed with perfect fortitude, and only rejoiced to hear they had all been so happy. 

CHAPTER VI. 

 "Day follows night. The clouds return again After the falling of the latter rain; But to the aged blind shall ne'er return Grateful vicissitude: She still must mourn The sun, and moon, and every starry light, Eclipsed to her, and lost in everlasting night. "

 PRIOR

AMONGST the numerous letters and parcels with which Mary had beenentrusted by the whole county of-----, there was one she had receivedfrom the hands of Lady Maclaughlan, with a strict injunction to be thebearer of it herself; and, as even Lady Maclaughlan's wishes now wore analmost sacred character in Mary's estimation, she was very desirous offulfilling this her parting charge. But, in the thraldom in which shewas kept, she knew not how that was to be accomplished. She could notventure to wait upon the lady to whom it was addressed without hermother's permission; and she was aware that to ask was upon everyoccasion only to be refused. In his dilemma she had recourse to LadyEmily; and, showing her the letter, craved her advice and assistance. 

"Mrs. Lennox, Rose Hall, " said her cousin, reading the superscription. "Oh! I don't think Lady Juliana will care a straw about your goingthere. She is merely an unfortunate blind old lady, whom everybodythinks it a bore to visit--myself, I'm afraid, amongst the number. Weought all to have called upon her ages ago, so I shall go with you now. "

Permission for Mary to accompany her was easily obtained; for LadyJuliana considered a visit to Mrs. Lennox as an act of penance ratherthan of pleasure; and Adelaide protested the very mention of her namegave her the vapours. There certainly was nothing that promised muchgratification in what Mary had heard; and yet she already feltinterested in this unfortunate blind lady whom everybody thought ita bore to visit, and she sought to gain some more information respectingher. But Lady Emily, though possessed of warm feelings and kindlyaffections, was little given to frequent the house of mourning, orsympathise with the wounded spirit; and she yawned as she declared shewas very sorry for poor Mrs. Lennox, and would have made a point ofseeing her oftener, could she have done her any good. 

"But what can I possibly say to her, " continued she, "after losingher husband, and having I don't know how many sons killed in battle, andher only daughter dying of a consumption, and herself going blind inconsequence of her grief for all these misfortunes--what can I possiblydo for her, or say to her? Were I in her situation, I'm sure I shouldhate the sight and sound of any human being, and should give myself upentirely to despair. "

"That would be but a pagan sacrifice, " said Mary. 

"What would you do in such desperate circumstances?" demanded LadyEmily. 

"I would hope, " answered Mary, meekly. 

"But in poor Mrs. Lennox's case that would be to hope though hope werelost; for what can she hope for now? She has still something to fear, however, as I believe she has still one son remaining, who is in thebrunt of every battle; of course she has nothing to expect but accountsof his death. "

"But she may hope that heaven will preserve him, and--"

"That you will marry him. That would do excellently well, for he is asbrave as a real Highlander, though he has the misfortune to be only halfa one. His father, General Lennox, was a true Scot to the very tip ofhis tongue, and as proud and fiery as any chieftain need be. _His_death, certainly was an improvement in the family. But there is RoseHall, with its pretty shrubberies and nice parterres, whatdo you say to becoming its mistress?"

"If I am to lay snares, " answered Mary, laughing, "it must be for noblerobjects than hedgerow elms and hillocks green. "

"Oh, it must be for black crags and naked hills! Your country reallydoes vastly well to rave about! Lofty mountains and deep glens, and bluelakes and roaring rivers, are mighty fine-sounding things; but I suspectcornfields and barnyards are quit as comfortable neighbours; so take myadvice and marry Charles Lennox. "

Mary only answered by singing, "My heart's in the Highlands, my heart isnot here, " etc. , as the carriage drew up. 

"This is the property of Mrs. Lennox, " said Lady Emily, in answer tosome remark of her companion's; "she is the last of some ancient stock;and you see the family taste has been treated with all due respect. "

Rose Hall was indeed perfectly English: it was a description of place ofwhich there are none in Scotland; for it wore the appearance ofantiquity, without the too usual accompaniments of devastation or decay;neither did any incongruities betray vicissitude of fortune or change ofowner; but the taste of the primitive possessor seemed to have beenrespected through ages by his descendants; and the ponds remained asround, and the hedges as square, and the grass walks as straight, as theday they had been planned. The same old-fashioned respectability wasalso apparent in the interior of the mansion. The broad heavy oakenstaircase shone in all the lustre of bees' wax; and the spacioussitting-room into which they were ushered had its due allowance ofVandyke portraits, massive chairs, and china jars, standing much in thesame positions they had been placed in a hundred years before. 

To the delicate mind the unfortunate are always objects of respect. Asthe ancients held sacred those places which had been blasted bylightning, so the feeling heart considers the afflicted as having beentouched by the hand of God Himself. Such were the sensations with whichMary found herself in the presence of the venerable Mrs. Lennox--venerable rather through affliction than age; for sorrow, morethan time, had dimmed the beauty of former days, though enough stillremained to excite interest and engage affection in the mournful yetgentle expression of her countenance, and the speaking silence of herdarkened eyes. On hearing the names of her visitors, she arose, and, guided by a little girl, who had been sitting at her feet, advanced tomeet them, and welcomed them with a kindness and simplicity of mannerthat reminded Mary of the home she had left and the maternal tendernessof her beloved aunt. She delivered her credentials, which Mrs. Lennoxreceived with visible surprise; but laid the letter aside without anycomments. 

Lady Emily began some self-accusing apologies for the length of timethat had intervened since her last visit, but Mrs Lennox gentlyinterrupted her. 

"Do not blame yourself, my dear Lady Emily, " said she; "for what is sonatural at your age. And do not suppose I am so unreasonable as toexpect that the young and the gay should seek for pleasure in thecompany of an old blind Woman. At your time of life I would not havecourted distress anymore than you. "

"At every time of life, " said Lady Emily, "I am sure you must have been avery different being from what I am, or ever shall be. "

"Ah! you little know what changes adversity makes in the character, "said Mrs. Lennox mournfully; "and may you never know--unless it is foryour good. "

"I doubt much if I shall ever be good on any terms, " answered Lady Emilyin a half melancholy tone; "I don't think I have the elements ofgoodness in my composition, but here is my cousin, who is fit to standproxy for all the virtues. "

Mrs. Lennox involuntarily turned her mild but sightless eyes towardsMary, then heaved a sigh and shook her head, as she was reminded of herdeprivation. Mary was too much affected to speak; but the hand that wasextended to her she pressed with fervour to her lips, while her eyesoverflowed with tears. The language of sympathy is soon understood. Mrs. Lennox seemed to feel the tribute of pity and respect that flowed fromMary's warm heart, and from that moment they felt towards each otherthat indefinite attraction which, however it may be ridiculed, certainlydoes sometimes influence our affections. 

"That is a picture of your son, Colonel Lennox, is it not?" asked LadyEmily, "I mean the one that hangs below the lady in the satin gown withthe bird on her hand. "

Mrs. Lennox answered in the affirmative; then added, with a sigh, "Andwhen I _could_ look on that face, I forgot all I had lost; but I was toofond, too proud a mother. Look at it, my dear, " taking Mary's hand, andleading her to the well-known spot, while her features brightened withan expression which showed maternal vanity was not yet extinct in themourner's heart. "He was only eighteen, " continued she, "when that wasdone; and many a hot sun has burned on that fair brow; and many afearful sight has met these sweet eyes since then; and sadly that facemay be changed; but I shall never see it more!"

"Indeed, " said Lady Emily, affecting to be gay, while a tear stood inher eye, "it is a very dangerous face to look on; and I should be afraidto trust myself with it, were not my heart already pledged. As for mycousin there, there is no fear of her falling a sacrifice to hazel eyesand chestnut hair, her imagination is all on the side of sandy locks andfrosty gray eyes; and I should doubt if Cupid himself would have anychance with her, unless he appeared in tartan plaid and Highlandbonnet. "

"Then my Charles would have some, " said Mrs. Lennox, with a faint smile;"for he has lately been promoted to the command of a Highland regiment. "

"Indeed!" said Lady Emily, "that is very gratifying, and you havereason to be proud of Colonel Lennox; he has distinguished himself uponevery occasion. "

"Ah! the days of my pride are now past, " replied Mrs. Lennox, with asigh; "'tis only the more honour, the greater danger, and I am weary ofsuch bloody honours. See there!" pointing to another part of the room, where hung a group of five lovely children, "three of these cherub headswere laid low in battle; the fourth, my Louisa, died of a broken heartfor the loss of her brothers. Oh! what can human power or earthlyhonours do to cheer the mother who has wept o'er her children's graves?But there _is_ a Power, " raising her darkened eyes to heaven, "that cansustain even a mother's heart; and here, " laying her hand upon an openBible, "is the balm He has graciously vouchsafed to pour into thewounded spirit. My comfort is not that my boys died nobly, but that theydied Christians. "

Lady Emily and Mary were both silent from different causes. The formerwas at a loss what to say--the latter felt too much affected to trusther voice with the words of sympathy that hovered on her lips. 

"I ought to beg your pardon, my dears, " said Mrs. Lennox, after a pause, for talking in this serious manner to you who cannot be supposed toenter into sorrows to which you are strangers. But you must excuse me, though my heart does sometimes run over. "

"Oh, do not suppose, " said Mary, making an effort to conquer herfeelings, "that we are so heartless as to refuse to take a part in theafflictions of others; surely none can be so selfish; and might I beallowed to come often--very often--" She stopped and blushed; for shefelt that her feelings were carrying her farther than she was warrantedto go. 

Mrs. Lennox kindly pressed her hand. "Ah! God hath, indeed, sent someinto the world, whose province it is to refresh the afflicted, andlighten the eyes of the disconsolate. Such, I am sure, you would be tome; for I feel my heart revive at the sound of your voice; it reminds meof my heart's darling, my Louisa! and the remembrance of her, thoughsad, is still sweet. Come to me, then, when you will, and God'sblessing, and the blessing of the blind and desolate, will reward you. "

Lady Emily turned away, and it was not till they had been some timein the carriage that Mary was able to express the interest this visithad excited, and her anxious desire to be permitted to renew it. 

"It is really an extraordinary kind of delight, Mary, that you take inbeing made miserable, " said her cousin, wiping her eyes; "for my part, it makes me quite wretched to witness suffering that I can't relieve;and how can you or I possibly do poor Mrs. Lennox any good? We can'tbring back her sons. "

"No; but we can bestow our sympathy, and that, I have been taught, isalways a consolation to the afflicted. "

"I don't quite understand the nature of that mysterious feeling calledsympathy. When I go to visit Mrs. Lennox, she always sets me a-crying, and I try to set her a-laughing. Is that what you call sympathy?"

Mary smiled, and shook her head. 

"Then I suppose it is sympathy to blow one's nose--and--and read theBible. Is that it? or what is it?"

Mary declared she could not define it; and Lady Emily insisted she couldnot comprehend it. 

"You will some day or other, " said Mary; "for none, I believe, have everpassed through life without feeling, or at least requiring its support;and it is well, perhaps, that we should know betimes how to receive aswell as how to bestow it. "

"I don't see the necessity at all. I know I should hate mortally to bewhat you call sympathised with; indeed, it appears to me the height ofselfishness in anybody to like it. If I am wretched, it would be nocomfort to me to make everybody else wretched; and were I in Mrs. Lennox's place, I would have more spirit than to speak about mymisfortunes. "

"But Mrs. Lennox does not appear to be what you call a spiritedcreature. She seems all sweetness, and--"

"Oh, sweet enough, certainly!--But hers is a sort of Eolian harp, thatlulls me to sleep. I tire to death of people who have only two or threenotes in their character. By-the-bye, Mary, you have a tolerable compassyourself, when you choose, though I don't think you have science enoughfor a _bravura; there_ I certainly have the advantage of you, as Iflatter myself my mind is a full band in itself. My kettledrums andtrumpets I keep for Lady Juliana, and I am quite in the humour forgiving her a flourish today. I really require something of anexhilarating nature after Mrs. Lennox's dead march. "

An unusual bustle seemed to pervade Beech Park as the carriage stopped, and augured well for its mistress's intention of being more than usuallyvivacious. It was found to be occasioned by the arrival of her brotherLord Lindore's servants and horses, with the interesting intelligencethat his Lordship would immediately follow; and Lady Emily, wild withdelight, forgot everything in the prospect of embracing her brother. 

"How does it happen, " said Mary, when her cousin's transports had alittle subsided, "that you, who are in such ecstasies at the idea ofseeing your brother, have scarcely mentioned his name to me?"

"Why, to tell you the truth, I fear I was beginning to forget there wassuch a person in the world. I have not seen him since I was ten yearsold. At that time he went to college, and from thence to the Continent. So all I remember of him is that he was very handsome and verygood-humoured; and all that have heard of him is, that wherever he goeshe is the 'glass of fashion and the mould of form'--not that he is muchof a Hamlet, I've a notion, in other respects. So pray put off thatOphelia phiz, and don't look as if you were of ladies most deject andwretched, when everybody else is gay and happy. Come, give your lastsigh to the Lennox, and your first smile to _Lindore. "_

"That is sympathy, " said Mary. 

CHAPTER VII. 

 "Quelle fureur, dit-il, quei aveugle caprice Quand Ie dîner est prêt. " BOILEAU. 

"I HOPE your Lordship has no thoughts of waiting dinner for LordLindore?" asked Dr. Redgill, with a face of alarm, as seven o'clockstruck, and neither dinner nor Lord Lindore appeared. 

"I have no thoughts upon the subject, " answered Lord Courtland, ashe turned over some new caricatures with as much _nonchalance_ as if ithad been mid-day. 

"That's enough, my Lord; but I suspect Mr. Marshall, in hisofficiousness, takes the liberty of thinking for you, and that we shallhave no dinner without orders, " rising to pull the bell. 

"We ought undoubtedly to wait for Frederick, " said Lady Juliana; "it isof no consequence when we sit down to table. "

A violent yell from the sleeping Beauty on the rug sounded like asummary judgment on her mistress. 

"What is the meaning of this?" cried her Ladyship, flying to theoffended fair one, in all the transports of pity and indignation; "howcan you, Dr. Redgill, presume to treat my dog in such a manner?"

"Me treat your Ladyship's dog!" exclaimed the Doctor in well-feignedastonishment--"Pon my honour!--I'm quite at a loss!--I'm absolutelyconfounded!"

"Yes! I saw you plainly give her a kick, and--"

"Me kick Beauty!--after that!--'Pon my soul, I should just as soon havethought of kicking my own grandmother. I did give her a _leettle_--avery _leettle_ shove, just with the point of my toe, as I was going topull the bell; but it couldn't have hurt a fly. I assure you it would beone of the last action of my life to treat Beauty ill--Beauty!--poorBeauty!"--affecting to pat and soothe, by way of covering histransgression. But neither Beauty nor her mistress were to be taken inby the Doctor's cajolerie. The one felt, and the other saw the indignityhe had committed; and his caresses and protestations were all in vain. The fact was, the Doctor's indignation was so raised by Lady Juliana'sremark, made in all the plenitude of a late luncheon, that, had it beenherself instead of her favourite, he could scarcely have refrained fromthis testimony of his detestation and contempt. But much as he despisedher, he felt the necessity of propitiating her at this moment, whendinner itself depended upon her decision; for Lord Courtland wasperfectly neutral, Lady Emily as not present, and a servant waited toreceive orders. 

"I really believe it's hunger that's vexing her poor brute!" continuedhe, with an air of us feigned sympathy; "she knows the dinner hour aswell as any of us. Indeed, the instinct of dogs in that respect iswonderful. Providence has really--ahem!--indeed it's no joke to tamperwith dogs, when they've got the notion of dinner in their heads. Afriend of mine had a very fine animal--just such another as poor Beautythere--she had always been accustomed, like Beauty, to attend the familyto dinner at a particular hour; but one day, by some accident, instead ofsitting down at five, she was kept waiting till half-past six; theconsequence was, the disappointment, operating upon an emptystomach, brought on an attack of the hydrophobia, and the poor thing wasobliged to be shot the following morning. I think your Lordshipsaid--Dinner, " in a loud voice to the servant; and Lady Juliana, thoughstill sullen, did not dissent. 

For an hour the Doctor's soul was in a paradise still more substantialthan a Turk's; for it was lapt in the richest of soups and _ragoûts_, and, secure of their existence, it smiled at ladies of quality, anddeified their lap-dogs. 

Dinner passed away, and supper succeeded, and breakfast; dinner andsupper revolved, and still no Lord Lindore appeared. But this excited noalarm in the family. It was Lord Courtland's way, and it was LadyJuliana's way, and it was all their ways, not to keep to their appointedtime, and they therefore experienced none of the vulgar consternationincident to common minds when the expected guest fails to appear. LadyEmily indeed wondered, and was provoked, and impatient; but she was notalarmed; and Mary amused herself with contrasting in her own mind thedifference of her aunts' feelings in similar circumstances. 

"Dear Aunt Grizzy would certainly have been in tears these two days, fancying the thousand deaths Lord Lindore must have died; and Aunt Jackywould have been inveighing from morning till night against theirregularities of young men. And Aunt Nicky would have been lamentingthat the black cock had been roasted yesterday, or that there would beno fish for to-morrow. " And the result of Mary's comparison was, thather aunts' feelings, however troublesome, were better than no feelingsat all. "They are, to be sure, something like brambles, " thought she;"they fasten upon one in every possible way, but still they are betterthan the faded exotics of fashionable life. "

At last, on the third day, when dinner was nearly over, and Dr. Redgillwas about to remark for the third time, "I think it's as well we didn'twait for Lord Lindore, " the door opened, and, without warning or bustle, Lord Lindore walked calmly into the room. 

Lady Emily, uttering an exclamation of joy, threw herself into his arms. Lord Courtland was roused to something like animation, as he cordiallyshook hands with his son; Lady Juliana flew into raptures at the beautyof his Italian greyhound; Adelaide, at the first glance, decided thather cousin was worthy of falling in love with her; Mary thought on thehappiness of the family reunion; and Dr. Redgill offered up a silentthanksgiving that this _fracas_ had not happened ten minutes sooner, otherwise the woodcocks would have been as cold as death. Chairs wereplaced by the officious attendants in every possible direction; and thediscarded first course was threatening to displace the third. But LordLindore seemed quite insensible to all these attentions; he stoodsurveying the company with a _nonchalance_ that had nothing of rudenessin it, but seemed merely the result of high-bred ease. His eye, for amoment, rested upon Adelaide. He then slightly bowed and smiled, as inrecognition of their juvenile acquaintance. 

"I really can't recommend either the turtle soup or the venison to yourLordship to-day, " said Dr. Redgill, who experienced certain uneasysensations at the idea of beholding them resume their stations, something resembling those which Macbeth testified at sight of Banquo'sghost, or Hamlet on contemplating Yorick's skull--"after travelling, there is nothing like a light dinner; allow me to recommend this_prretty, leettle cuisse de poulet en papillote;_ and here are somefascinating _beignets d'abricots_--quite foreign. "

"If there is any roast beef or boiled mutton to be had, pray let me haveit, " said Lord Lindore, waving off the zealous _maître d'hotel, _as he kept placing dish after dish before him. 

"Roast beef, or boiled mutton!" ejaculated the Doctor, with a sort ofinternal convulsion; "he is certainly mad. "

"How did you contrive to arrive without being heard by me, Frederick?"asked Lady Emily; "my ears have been wide open these two days and threenights watching your approach?"

"I walked from Newberry House, " answered he, carelessly. "I met LordNewberry two days ago, as I was coming here, and he persuaded me toalter my course and accompany him home. "

"Vastly flattering to your friends here, " said Lady Emily in a tone ofpique. 

"What! you walked all the way from Newberry, " exclaimed the Earl, "andthe ground covered with snow. How could you do so foolish a thing?"

"Simply because, as the children say, I liked it, " replied Lord Lindore, with a smile. 

"That's just of a piece with his liking to eat boiled mutton, " mutteredthe Doctor to Mary; "and yet, to look at him, one would really notexpect such gross stupidity. "

There certainly was nothing in Lord Lindore's appearance that denotedeither coarseness of taste or imbecility of mind. On the contrary, hewas an elegant-looking young man, rather slightly formed, and of themiddle size, possessing that ease and grace in all his movements which aperfect proportion alone can bestow. There was nothing foreign or_recherché_ either in his dress or deportment; both were plain, even to simplicity; yet an almost imperceptible air of _hauteur_ wasmingled with the good-humoured indifference of his manner. He spokelittle, and seemed rather to endure than to be gratified by attentions;his own were chiefly directed to his dog, as he was more intent onfeeding it than on answering the questions that were put to him. Therenever was anything to be called conversation at the dinner-table atBeech Park; and the general practice was in no danger of being departedfrom on the present occasion. The Earl hated to converse--it was a bore;and he now merely exchanged a few desultory sentences with his son, as heate his olives and drank his claret. Lady Juliana, indeed, spoke evenmore than her usual quantity of nonsense, but nobody listened to it. Lady Emily was somewhat perplexed in her notions about her brother. Hewas handsome and elegant, and appeared good-humoured and gentle; yetsomething was wanting to fill up the measure of her expectations, and alatent feeling of disappointment lurked in her heart. Adelaide wasindignant that he had not instantly paid her the most marked attention, and revenged herself by her silence. In short, Lord Lindore's arrivalseemed to have added little or nothing to the general stock of pleasure;and the effervescence of joy--the rapture of _sensation_, like somesubtle essence, had escaped almost as soon as it was perceived. 

"How stupid everybody always is at a dinner table!" exclaimed Lady Emily, rising abruptly with an air of chagrin. "I believe it is the fumes of themeat that dulls one's senses, and renders them so detestable. I long tosee you in the drawing-room Frederick. I've a notion you are more of acarpet knight than a knight of the round table; so pray, " in a whisperas she passed, "leave papa to be snored asleep by Dr. Redgill, and doyou follow us--here is metal more attractive, " pointing to the sisters, as they quitted the room; and she followed without waiting for herbrother's reply. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

 "Io dubito, Signor M. Pietro che il mio Cortegiano non sarà stato altro che fatica mia, e fastidio degli amici. "

 BALDASSARRE CASTIGLIONE. 

LORD LINDORE was in no haste to avail himself of his sister'sinvitation; and when he did, it was evident his was a "mind not to bechanged by place;" for he entered more with the air of one who was tiredof the company he had left, than expecting pleasure from the society hesought. 

"Do come and entertain us, Lindore, " cried Lady Emily, as he entered, "for we are all heartily sick of one another. A snow-storm and a lack ofcompany are things hard to be borne; it is only the expectancy of yourarrival that has kept us alive these two days, and now pray don't let usdie away of the reality. "

"You have certainly taken a most effectual method of sealing my lips, "said her brother with a smile. 

"How so?"

"By telling me that I am expected to be vastly entertaining, since everyword I utter can only serve to dispel the illusion, and prove that I amgifted with no such miraculous power. "

"I don't think it requires any miraculous power, either to entertain orbe entertained. For my part, I flatter myself I can entertain any man, woman, or child in the kingdom, when I choose; and as for beingentertained, that is still an easier matter. I seldom meet with anybodywho is not entertaining, either from their folly, or their affectation, or their stupidity, or their vanity; or, in short, something of theridiculous, that renders them not merely supportable, but positivelyamusing. "

"How extremely happy you must be, " said Lord Lindore. 

"Happy! No--I don't know that my feelings precisely amount to happinessneither; for at the very time I'm most diverted I'm sometimes disgustedtoo, and often provoked. My spirit gets chafed, and---"

"You long to box the ears of all your acquaintances, " said her brother, laughing. "Well, no matter--there is nothing so enviable as a facilityof being amused, and even the excitement of anger is perhaps preferableto the stagnation of indifference. "

"Oh, thank heaven! I know nothing about indifference; I leave that toAdelaide. "

Lord Lindore turned his eyes with more animation than he had yet evincedtowards his cousin, who sat reading, apparently paying no attention towhat was going on. He regarded her for a considerable time with anexpression of admiration; but Adelaide, though she was conscious of hisgaze, calmly pursued her studies. "Come, you positively must dosomething to signalise yourself. I assure you it is expected of you thatyou should be the soul of the company. Here is Adelaide waltzes like anangel, when she can get a partner to her liking. "

"But I waltz like a mere mortal, " said LordLindore, seating himself at a table, and turning over the leaves of abook. 

"And I am engaged to play billiards with my uncle, " said Adelaide, rising with a blush of indignation. 

"Shall we have some music, then? Can you bear to listen to our croakingsafter the warbling of your Italian nightingales?" asked Lady Emily. 

"I should like very much to hear you sing, " answered her brother, withan air of the most perfect indifference. 

"Come then, Mary, do you be the one to 'untwist the chains that tie thehidden soul of harmony. ' Give us your Scotch Exile, pray? It istolerably appropriate to the occasion, though an English one would havebeen still more so; but, as you say, there is nothing in this country tomake a song about. "

Mary would rather have declined, but she saw a refusal would displeaseher cousin; and she was not accustomed to consult her own inclination insuch frivolous matters. She therefore seated herself at the harp, andsang the following verses;--

 THE EXILE. 

 The weary wanderer may roam To seek for bliss in change of scene; Yet still the loved idea of home, And of the days he there has seen, Pursue him with a fond regret, Like rays from suns that long have set. 

 "Tis not the sculptor's magic art, "Tis not th' heroic deeds of yore, That fill and gratify the heart. No! 'tis affection's tender lore-- The thought of friends, and love's first sigh, When youth, and hope, and health were nigh. 

 What though on classic ground we tread, What though we breathe a genial air-- Can these restore the bliss that's fled? Is not remembrance ever there? Can any soil protect from grief, Or any air breathe soft relief?

 No! the sick soul, that wounded flies From all its early thoughts held dear, Will more some gleam of memory prize, That draws the long-lost treasure near; And warmly presses to its breast The very thought that mars its rest. 

 Some mossy stone, some torrent rude, Some moor unknown to worldly ken, Some weeping birches, fragrant wood, Or some wild roebuck's fern-clad glen;-- Yes! these his aching heart delight, These bring his country to his sight. 

Ere the song was ended Lord Lindore had sauntered away to thebilliard-room, singing, "Oh! Jiove Omnipotente!" and seemingly quiteunconscious that any attentions were due from him in return. But there, even Adelaide's charms failed to attract, in spite of the variety ofgraceful movements practised before him--the beauty of the extended arm, the majestic step, and the exclamations of the enchanting voice LordLindore kept his station by the fire, in a musing attitude, from whichhe was only roused occasionally by the caresses of his dog. At supper itwas still worse. He placed himself by Mary, and when he spoke, it wasonly of Scotland. 

"Well--what do you think of Lindore?" demanded Lady Emily of her auntand cousins, as they were about to separate for the night. "Is he notdivine?"

"Perfectly so!" replied Lady Juliana, with all the self-importance of afool. "I assure you I think very highly of him. He is a vastly charming, clever young man-perfectly beautiful, and excessively amiable; and hisattention to his dog is quite delightful--it is so uncommon to see menat all kind to their dogs. I assure you I have known many who wereabsolutely cruel to them--beat them, and starved them, and did athousand shocking things; and----"

"Pray, Adelaide, what is your opinion of my brother"

"Oh! I--I--have no doubt he is extremely amiable, " replied Adelaide, with a gentle yawn. "As mamma says, his attentions to his dog prove it. "

"And you, Mary, are your remarks to be equally judicious and polite?"

Mary, in all the sincerity of her heart, said she thought him by muchthe handsomest and most elegant-looking man she had ever seen. And thereshe stopped. 

"Yes; I know all that. But--however, no matter--I only wish he may havesense enough to fall in love with you, Mary. How happy I should be tosee you Lady Lindore!--_En attendant_--you must take care of your heart;for I hear he is _un peu volage_--and, moreover, that he admires nonebut _les dames Mariées. _ As for Adelaide, there is no fear ofher. She will never cast such a pearl away upon one who is merely, nodoubt, extremely amiable, " retorting Adelaide's ironical tone. 

"Then you may feel equally secure upon my account, " said Mary, "as Iassure you I am still less danger of losing mine, after the warning youhave given. "

This off-hand sketch of her brother's character, which Lady Emily hadthoughtlessly given, produced the most opposite effects on the minds ofhe sisters. With Adelaide it increased his consequence and enhanced hisvalue. It would be no vulgar conquest to fix and reform one who wasnotorious for his inconstancy and libertine principles; and from thatmoment she resolved to use all the influence of her charms to captivateand secure the heart of her cousin. In Mary's well-regulated mind otherfeelings arose. Although she was not one of the outrageous virtuous, whostorm and rail at the very mention of vice, and deem it contamination tohold any intercourse with the vicious, she yet possessed proper ideasfor the distinction to be drawn; and the hope of finding a friend andbrother in her cousin now gave way to the feeling that in future shecould only consider him as an common acquaintance. 

CHAPTER IX

"On sera ridicule et je n'oserai rire!"

 BOILEAU. 

IN honour of her brother's return Lady Emily resolved to celebrate itwith a ball; and always prompt in following up her plans, she fell towork immediately with her visiting list. 

"Certainly, " said she, as she scanned it over, "there never was anyfamily so afflicted in their acquaintances as we are. At least one-halfof the names here belong to the most insufferable people on the face ofthe earth. The Claremonts, and the Edgefields, and the Bouveries, and theSedleys, and a few more, are very well; but can anything in human formbe more insupportable than the rest; for instance, that wretch LadyPlacid?"

"Does her merit lie only in her name then?" asked Mary. 

"You shall judge for yourself when I have given you a slight sketch ofher character. Lady Placid, in the opinion of all sensible persons ingeneral, and myself in particular, is a vain, weak, conceited, vulgaregotist. In her own eyes she is a clever, well-informed, elegant, amiable woman; and though I have spared no pains to let her know howdetestable I think her, it is all in vain; she remains as firmlyentrenched in her own good opinion as folly and conceit can make her;and I have the despair of seeing all my buffetings fall blunted to theground. She reminds me of some odious fairy or genii I have read of, whopossessed such a power in their person that every hostile weaponlevelled against them was immediately turned into some agreeablepresent. Stones became balls of silk--arrows, flowers--swords, feathers, etc. Even so it is with Lady Placid. The grossest insult that could beoffered she would construe into an elegant compliment; the very crimesof others she seems to consider as so much incense offered up at theshrine of her own immaculate virtue. I'm certain she thinks she deservesto be canonised for having kept out of Doctors' Commons. Never is anyaffair of that sort alluded to that she does not cast such a triumphantlook towards her husband, as much as to say, 'Here am I, the paragon offaithful wives and virtuous matrons!' Were I in his place, I shouldcertainly throw a plate at her head. And here, you may take this passingremark--How much more odious people are who have radical faults, thanthose who commit, I do not say positive crimes, but occasionalweaknesses. Even a noble nature may fall into a great error; but what isthat to the ever-enduring pride, envy, malice, and conceit of a littlemind? Yes, I would at any time rather be the fallen than the one, soexult over the fall of another. Then, as a mother, she is, if possible, still more meritorious a woman (this is the way she talks): A woman hasnobly performed her part to her country, and for posterity, when she hasbrought a family of fine healthy children into the world. 'I can't agreewith you, ' I reply 'I think many mothers have brought children into theworld who would have been much better out of it. A mother's merit mustdepend solely upon how she brings up her children (hers are the mostspoiled brats in Christendom). 'There I perfectly agree with you, LadyEmily. As you observe, it is not every mother who does her duty by herchildren. Indeed, I may say to you, it is not everyone that will makethe sacrifices for their family I have done; but thank God! I am richlyrepaid. My children are everything I could wish them to be!' Everythingof hers, as a matter of course, must be superior to every otherperson's, and even what she is obliged to share in common with othersacquires some miraculous charm in operating upon her. Thus it isimpossible for anyone to imagine the delight she takes in bathing; andas for the sun, no mortal can conceive the effect it has upon her. Ifshe was to have the plague she would assure you it was owing to somepeculiar virtue in her blood; and if she was to be put in the pilloryshe would ascribe it entirely to her great merit. If her coachman wereto make her a declaration of love she would impute it to the boundlessinfluence of her charms; that every man who sees her does not declarehis passion is entirely owing to the well-known severity of her moralsand the dignity of her deportment. If she is amongst the first invitedto my ball, that will be my eagerness to secure her: if the very last, it will be a mark of my friendship, and the easy footing we are upon. Ifnot invited at all, then it will be jealousy. In short, the unitedstrength of worlds would not shake that woman's good opinion of herself;and the intolerable part of it is there are so many fools in this onethat she actually passes with the multitude for being a charmingsweet-tempered woman--always the same--always pleased and contented. Contented! just as like contentment as the light emitted by putridityresembles the divine halo! But too much of her. Let her have a card, however. 

"Then comes Mrs. Wiseacre, that renowned law-giver, who lavishes heradvice on all who will receive it, without hope of fee or reward, exceptthat of being thought wiser than anybody else. But, like many moredeserving characters, she meets with nothing but ingratitude in return;and the wise sentences that are for ever hovering around her pursed upmouth have only served to render her insupportable. This is her mode ofproceeding--' If I might presume to advise, Lady Emily;' or, 'If myopinion could be supposed to have any weight;' or 'If my experience goesfor anything;' or, 'I'm an old woman now, but I think I know somethingof the world;' or, 'If a friendly hint of mine would be of any service:--then when very desperate, it is, 'However averse I am to obtrude myadvice, yet as I consider it my duty, I must for once;' or, 'Itcertainly is no affair of mine, at the same time I must just observe, 'etc. Etc. I don't say that she insists, however, upon your swallowingall the advice she crams you with; for, provided she has the luxury ofgiving it, it can make little difference how it is taken; becausewhatever befals you, be it good or bad, it is equally a matter ofexultation to her. Thus she has the satisfaction of saying, 'If poorMrs. Dabble had but followed my advice, and not have taken these pillsof Dr. Doolittle's, she would have been alive to-day, depend upon it;'or, 'If Sir Thomas Speckle had but taken advantage of a friendly hint Ithrew out some time ago, about the purchase of the Drawrent estate, hemight have been a man worth ten thousand a year at this moment;' or, 'IfLady Dull hadn't been so infatuated as to neglect the caution I gave herabout Bob Squander, her daughter might have been married to Nabob Gull. '

"But there is a strange contradiction about Mrs. Wiseacre, for though itappears that all her friends' misfortunes proceed from neglecting heradvice, it is no less apparent, by her account, that her own are alloccasioned by following the advice of others. She is for ever doingfoolish things, and laying the blame upon her neighbours. Thus, 'Had itnot been for my friend Mrs. Jobbs there, I never would have parted withmy house for an old song as I did;' or, 'It was entirely owing to MissGlue's obstinacy that I was robbed of my diamond necklace, or, 'I haveto thank my friend Colonel Crack for getting my carriage smashed topieces. ' In short, she has the most comfortable repository of stupidfriends to have recourse to, of anybody I ever knew. Now what I have towarn you against, Mary, is the sin of ever listening to any of heradvices. She will preach to you about the pinning of your gown and thecurling of your hair till you would think it impossible not to do exactlywhat she wants you to do. She will inquire with the greatest solicitudewhat shoemaker you employ, and will shake her head most significantlywhen she hears it is any other than her own. But if ever I detect youpaying the smallest attention to any of her recommendations, positivelyI shall have done with you. "

Mary laughingly promised to turn a deaf ear to all Mrs. Wiseacre'swisdom; and her cousin proceeded:

"Then here follows a swarm as, thick as idle motes in sunny ray, ' andmuch of the same importance, methinks, in the scale of being. Marriedladies only celebrated for their good dinners, or their prettyequipages, or their fine jewels. How I should scorn to be talked of asthe appendage to any soups or pearls! Then there are the daughters ofthese ladies--Misses, who are mere misses, and nothing more. Oh! theinsipidity of a mere Miss! a soft simpering thing with pink cheeks, andpretty hair, and fashionable clothes _sans_ eyes for anything butlovers_-sans_ ears for anything but flattery--_sans_ taste for anythingbut balls_--sans_ brains for anything at all! Then there are ladies whoare neither married nor young, and who strive with all their might totalk most delightfully, that the charms of their conversation may effacethe marks of the crows' feet; but 'all these I passen by, and namelessnumbers moe. ' And now comes the Hon. Mrs. Downe Wright, a person ofconsiderable shrewdness and penetration--vulgar, but unaffected. Thereis no politeness, no gentleness in her heart; but she possesses somewarmth, much honesty, and great hospitality. She has acquired thecharacter of being--oh, odious thing!--a clever woman! There are twodescriptions of clever women, observe; the one is endowed with corporealcleverness--the other with mental; and I don't know which of the two isthe greater nuisance to society; the one torments you with hermanagement--the other with her smart sayings; the one is for everrattling her bunch of keys in your ears--the other electrifies you withthe shock of her wit; and both talk _so_ much and _so _loud, and aresuch egotists, that I rather think a clever woman is even a greater termof reproach than a good creature. But to return to that clever woman Mrs. Downe Wright: she is a widow, left with the management of an only son--acommonplace, weak young man. No one, I believe, is more sensible of hismental deficiencies than his mother; but she knows that a man of fortuneis, in the eyes of the many, a man of consequence; and she thereforewisely talks of it as his chief characteristic. To keep him in goodcompany, and get him well married, is all her aim; and this, she thinks, will not be difficult, as he is very handsome-possesses an estate of tenthousand a year--and succeeds to some Scotch Lord Something'stitle--there's for you, Mary! She once had views of Adelaide, butAdelaide met the advances with so much scorn that Mrs. Downe Wrightdeclared she was thankful she had shown the cloven foot in time, forthat she never would have done for a wife to her William. Now you arethe very thing to suit, for you have no cloven feet to show. "

"Or at least you are not so quick-sighted as Mrs. Downe Wright. Youhave not spied them yet, it seems, " said Mary, with a smile. 

"Oh, as to that, if you had them, I should defy you, or anyone, to hidethem from me. When I reflect upon the characters of most of myacquaintances, I sometimes think nature has formed my optics only to seedisagreeables. "

"That must be a still more painful faculty of vision than even thesecond-sight, " said Mary; "but I should think it depended very much uponyourself to counteract it. "

"Impossible! my perceptions are so peculiarly alive to all that isobnoxious to them that I could as soon preach my eyes into blindness, ormy ears into deafness, as put down my feelings with chopping logic. Ifpeople _will_ be affected and ridiculous, why must I live in a state ofwarfare with myself on account of the feelings they rouse within me?"

"If people _will_ be irritable, " said Mary, laughing, "why must otherssacrifice their feelings to gratify them?"

"Because mine are natural feelings, and theirs are artificial. A verysaint must sicken at sight of affectation, you'll allow. Vulgarity, eveninnate vulgarity, is bearable--stupidity itself is pardonable--butaffectation is never to be endured or forgiven. "

"It admits of palliation, at least, " answered Mary. "I dare say there aremany people who would have been pleasing and natural in their mannershad not their parents and teachers interfered. There are many, Ibelieve, who have not courage to show themselves such as they are--somewho are naturally affected and many, very many, who have been taughtaffectation as a necessary branch of education. "

"Yes--as my governesses would have taught me; but, thank heaven! I gotthe better of them. _Fascinating_ was what they wanted to make me; butwhenever the word was mentioned, I used to knit my brows, and frown uponthem in such a sort. The frown, like now, sticks by me; but no matter--afrowning brow is better than a false heart, and I defy anyone to saythat I am fascinating. "

"There certainly must be some fascination about you, otherwise I shouldnever have sat so long listening to you, " said Mary, as she rose fromthe table at which she had been assisting to dash off the at-homes. 

"But you must listen to me a little longer, " cried her cousin, seizingher hand to detain her. "I have not got half through my detestables yet;but to humour you, I shall let them go for the present. And now, thatyou mayn't suppose I am utterly insensible to excellence, you mustsuffer me to show you that I can and do appreciate worth when I can findit. I confess my talent lies fully as much in discovering the ridiculousas the amiable; and I am equally ready to acknowledge it is a fault, andno mark of superior wit or understanding; since it is much easier to hitoff the glaring caricature line of deformity than the finer and moreexquisite touches of beauty, especially for one who reads as herun---the sign-posts are sure to catch the eye. But now for myfavourite--no matter for her name--it would frighten you if were you tohear it. In the first place, she is, as some of your old divines say, _hugely religious;_ 'but then she keeps her piety in its proper place, and where it ought to be--in her very soul. It is never astumbling-block in other people's way, or interfering with otherpeople's affairs. Her object is to _be, _ not to _seem, _religious; andthere is neither hypocrisy nor austerity necessary for that. She isforbearing, without meanness--gentle, without insipidity--sincere, without rudeness. She practises all the virtues herself, and seems quiteunconscious that others don't do the same. She is, if I may trust theexpression of her eye, almost as much alive to the ridiculous as I am;but she is only diverted where I am provoked. She never bestows falsepraise even upon her friends; but a simple approval from her is of morevalue than the finest panegyric from another. She never finds occasionto censure or condemn the conduct of anyone, however flagrant it may bein the eyes of others; because she seems to think virtue is betterexpressed by her own actions than by her neighbour's vices. She caresnot for admiration, but is anxious to do good and give pleasure. To sumup the whole, she could listen with patience to Lady Placid; she couldbear to be advised by Mrs. Wiseacre; she could stand the scrutiny ofMrs. Downe Wright; and, hardest task of all" (throwing her arms aroundMary's neck), "she can bear with all my ill-humour and impertinence. "

CHAPTER X. 

 "Have I then no fears for thee, my _mother?_ Can I forget thy cares, from helpless years-- Thy tenderness for me? an eye still beamed With love!" THOMPSON. 

THE arrival of Lord Lindore brought a influx of visitors to Beech Park;and in the unceasing round of amusement that went on Mary found herselfcompletely overlooked. She therefore gladly took advantage of herinsignificance to pay frequent visits to Mrs. Lennox, and easilyprevailed with Lady Juliana to allow her to spend a week thereoccasionally. In this way the acquaintance soon ripened into the warmestaffection on both sides. The day seemed doubly dark to Mrs. Lennox thatwas not brightened by Mary's presence; and Mary felt all the droopingenergies of her heart revive in the delight of administering to thehappiness of another. 

Mrs. Lennox was one of those gentle amiable beings, who engage ouraffections far more powerfully than many possessed of higher attributes. Her understanding was not strong--neither had it been highly cultivated, according to the ideas of the present time; but she had a benevolence ofheart and a guileless simplicity of thought that shamed the pride of witand pomp of learning. Bereft of all external enjoyments, and destituteof great mental resources, it was retrospection and futurity that gildedthe dark evening of her days, and shed their light on the drearyrealities of life. She loved to recall the remembrance of herchildren--to tell of their infant beauties, their growing virtues--andto retrace scenes of past felicity which memory loves to treasure in theheart. 

"Oh! none but a mother can tell, " she would exclaim, "the bitterness ofthose tears which fall from a mother's eyes. All other sorrows seemnatural, but--God forgive me!--surely it is not natural that the oldshould weep for the young. Oh! when I saw myself surrounded by mychildren, little did I think that death was so soon to seal their eyes!Sorrow mine! and yet me thinks I would rather have suffered all thanhave stood in the world a lonely being. Yes, my children revered Hispower and believed in His name, and, thanks to His mercy, I feel assuredthey are now angels in heaven! Here, " taking some papers from awriting-box, "my Louisa speaks to me even from the tomb! These are thewords she wrote but a few hours before her death. Read them to me; forit is not every voice I can bear to hear uttering her last thoughts. "Mary read as follows:--

 FOR EVER GONE. 

 For ever gone! oh, chilling sound! That tolls the knell of hope and joy! Potent with torturing pang to wound, But not in mercy to destroy. 

 For ever gone! what words of grief-- Replete with wild mysterious woe! The Christian kneels to seek relief-- A Saviour died---It is not so. 

 For a brief space we sojourn here, And life's rough path we journey o'er; Thus was it with the friend so dear, That is not lost, but sped before. 

 For ever gone! oh, madness wild Dwells in that drear and Atheist doom! But death of horror is despoiled, When Heaven shines forth beyond the tomb. 

 For ever gone! oh, dreadful fate! Go visit nature--gather thence The symbols of man's happier state, Which speak to every mortal sense. 

 The leafless spray, the withered flower, Alike with man owns death's embrace; But bustling forth, in summer hour, Prepare anew to run life's race. 

 And shall it be, that man alone Dies, never more to rise again? Of all creation, highest one, Created but to live in vain?

 For ever gone! oh, dire despair!-- Look to the heavens, the earth, the sea-- Go, read a Saviour's promise there-- Go, heir of Immortality!

From such communings as these the selfish would have turned withindifference; but Mary's generous heart was ever open to theoverflowings of the wounded spirit. She had never been accustomed tolavish the best feelings of her nature on frivolous pursuits orfictitious distresses, but had early been taught to consecrate them tothe best, the most ennobling purposes of humanity--even to thecomforting of the weary soul, the binding of the bruised heart. Yet Marywas no rigid moralist. She loved amusement as the amusement of animperfect existence, though her good sense and still better principlestaught her to reject it as the _business_ of an immortal being. 

Several weeks passed away, during which Mary had been an almost constantinmate at Rose Hall; but the day of Lady Emily's _fête _arrived, and with something of hope and expectation fluttering at her heart, sheanticipated her _debut_ in the ball-room. She repaired to thebreakfast-table of her venerable friend with even more than usualhilarity; but, upon entering the apartment, her gaiety fled; for she wasstruck with the emotion visible on the countenance of Mrs. Lennox. Hermeek but tearful eyes were raised to heaven, and her hands were crossedon her bosom, as if to subdue the agitation of her heart. Her faithfulattendant stood by her with an open letter in her hand. 

Mary flew towards her; and as her light step and soft accents mether ear, she extended her arms towards her. 

"Mary, my child, where are you?" exclaimed she, as she pressed her withconvulsive eagerness to her heart. "My son!--my Charles!--to-morrow Ishall see him. See him! oh, God help me! I shall never see him more!"And she wept in all the agony of contending emotions, suddenly andpowerful excited. 

"But you will hear him--you will hold him to your heart--you will beconscious that he is beside you, " said Mary. 

"Yes, thank God! I shall once more hear the voice of a living child! Oh, how often do those voices ring in my heart, that are all hushed in thegrave! I am used to it now; but to think of his returning to thiswilderness! When last he left it he had father, brothers, sisters--andto find all gone!"

"Indeed it will be a sad return, " said the old housekeeper, as she wipedher eyes; "for the Colonel doated on his sister, and she on him, and hisbrothers too! Dearly they all loved one another. How in this very roomhave I seen them chase each other up and down in their pretty plays, with their papa's cap and sword, and say they would be soldiers!"

Mary motioned the good woman to be silent; then turning to Mrs Lennox, she sought to sooth her into composure, and turned, as she always did, he bright side of the picture to view, by dwelling on the joy her sonwould experience in seeing her. Mrs. Lennox shook her head mournfully. 

"Alas! he cannot joy in seeing me, such as I am. I have too longconcealed from him my dreary doom; he knows not that these poor eyes aresealed in darkness! Oh, he will seek to read a mother's fondness there, and he will find all cold and silent. "

"But he will also find you resigned--even contented, " said Mary, whileher tears dropped on the hand she held to her lips. 

"Yes; God knows I do not repine at His will. It is not for myself thesetears fall, but my son. How will he bear to behold the mother he soloved and honoured, now blind, bereft, and helpless?" And the wounds ofher heart seemed to bleed afresh at the excitement of even its happiestemotions--the return of a long absent, much-loved son. 

Mary exerted all the powers of her understanding, all the tenderness ofher heart, to dispel the mournful images that pressed on the mind of herfriend; but she found it was not so much her _arguments _as her_presence_ that produced that effect; and to leave her in her presentsituation seemed impossible. In the agitation of her spirits she hadwholly forgotten the occasion that called for Mary's absence, and sheimplored her to remain with her till the arrival of her son with anearnestness that was irresistible. 

The thoughts of her cousin's displeasure, should she absent herself uponsuch an occasion, caused Mary to hesitate; yet her feelings would notallow her to name the cause. 

"How unfeeling it would sound to talk of balls at such a time, " thoughtshe; "what a painful contrast must it present! Surely Lady Emily willnot blame me, and no one will miss me----" And, in the ardour of herfeelings, she promised to remain. Yet she sighed as she sent off herexcuse, and thought of the pleasures she had renounced. But thesacrifice made, the regrets were soon past; and she devoted herselfentirely to soothing the agitated spirits of her venerable friend. 

It is perhaps the simplest and most obvious truth, skilfullyadministered, that, in the season of affliction, produces the mostsalutary effects upon our mind. Mary was certainly no logician, and allthat she could say might have been said by another; but there issomething in the voice and manner that carries an irresistible influencealong with it--something that tells us our sorrows are felt andunderstood, not coldly seen and heard. Mary's well-directed exertionswere repaid with success; she read, talked, played, and sang, not in hergayest manner, but in that subdued strain which harmonised with thefeelings, while it won upon the attention, and she had at length thesatisfaction of seeing the object of her solicitude restored to herusual state of calm confiding acquiescence. 

"God bless you, my dear Mary!" said she, as they were about to separatefor the night. "He only can repay you for the good you have done me thisday!"

"Ah!" thought Mary, as she tenderly embraced her, "such a blessing isworth a dozen balls?"

At that moment the sound of a carriage was heard, and an unusual bustletook place below; but scarcely had they time to notice it ere the doorflew open, and Mrs. Lennox found herself locked in the arms of her son. 

For some minutes the tide of feeling was too strong for utterance, and"My mother!" "My son!" were the only words that either could articulate. At length, raising his head, Colonel Lennox fixed his eyes on hismother's face with a gaze of deep and fearful inquiry; but no returningglance spoke there. With that mournful vacuity, peculiar to the blind, which is a thousand times more touching than all the varied expressionof the living orb, she continued to regard the vacant space whichimagination had filled with the image she sought in vain to behold. 

At this confirmation of his worst fears a shade of the deepestanguish overspread the visage of her son. He raised his eyes, as inagony, to heaven--then threw himself on his mother's bosom; and as Maryhurried from the apartment she heard the sob which burst from his manlyheart, as he exclaimed, "My dear mother! do I indeed find youthus?"

CHAPTER Xl

"There is more complacency in the negligence of some men, than in whatis called the good breeding of others; and the little absences of theheart are often more interesting and engaging than the punctiliousattention of a thousand professed sacrificers to the graces. "--MACKENZIE. 

POWERFUL emotions are the certain levellers of ordinary feelings. WhenMary met Colonel Lennox in the breakfast-room the following morning, heaccosted her not with the ceremony of a stranger but with the franknessof a heart careless of common forms, and spoke of his mother withindications of sensibility which he vainly strove to repress. Mary knewthat she had sought to conceal her real situation from him; but itseemed a vague suspicion of the truth had, crossed his mind, and havingwith difficulty obtained a short leave of absence he had hastened tohave either his hopes or fears realised. 

"And now that I know the worst, " said he, "I know it only to deplore it. Far from alleviating, presence seems rather to aggravate my poormother's misfortune. Oh! it is heartrending to see the strivings ofthese longing eyes to look upon the face of those she loves!"

"Ah!" thought Mary, "were they to behold that face now, how changedwould it appear!" as she contrasted it with the portrait that hungimmediately over the head of the original. The one in all the brightnessof youth--the radiant eyes, the rounded cheek, the fair open brow, spokeonly of hope, and health, and joy. Those eyes were now dimmed by sorrow;the cheek was wasted with toil; the brow was clouded by cares. Yet, "asit is the best part of beauty which a picture cannot express, " [1]so there is something superior to the mere charms of form and colour; andan air of high-toned feeling, of mingled vivacity and sensibility, gavea grandeur to the form and an expression to the countenance which morethan atoned for the want of youth's more brilliant attributes. 

[1] Lord Bacon. 

At least, so thought Mary; but her comparisons were interrupted by theentrance of Mrs. Lennox. Her son flew towards her, and taking her armfrom that of her attendant, led her to her seat, and sought to renderher those little offices which her helplessness required. 

"My dear Charles, " said she, with a smile, as he tried to adjust hercushions, "your hands have not been used to this work. Your arm is mybest support, but a gentler hand must smooth my pillow. Mary, my love, where are--? Give me your hand. " Then placing it in that of her son--"Many a tear has this hand wiped from your mother's eyes!"

Mary, blushing deeply, hastily withdrew it. She felt it as a sort ofappeal to Colonel Lennox's feelings; and a sense of wounded delicacymade her shrink from being thus recommended to his gratitude. ButColonel Lennox seemed too much absorbed in his own painful reflectionsto attach such a meaning to his mother's words; and though they excitedhim to regard Mary for a moment with peculiar interest, yet, in a littlewhile, he relapsed into the mournful reverie from which he had beenroused. 

Colonel Lennox was evidently not a show-off character. He seemedsuperior to the mere vulgar aim of making himself agreeable--an aimwhich has much oftener its source in vanity than in benevolence. Yet theexerted himself to meet his mother's cheerfulness; though as often as helooked at her, or raised his eyes to the youthful group that hung beforethem, his changing hue and quivering lip betrayed the anguish he stroveto hide. 

Breakfast ended, Mary rose to prepare for her departure, in spite of thesolicitations of her friend that she should remain till the followingday. 

"Surely, my dear Mary, " said she in an imploring accent, "you will notrefuse to bestow one day of happiness upon me?--and it is _such _ahappiness to see my Charles and you together. I little thought that everI should have been so blessed. Ah! I begin to think God has yet somegood in store for my last days! Do not then leave me just when I ambeginning to taste of joy!"--And she clung to her with that patheticlook which Mary had ever found irresistble. 

But upon this occasion she steeled her heart against all supplication. It was the first time she had ever turned from the entreaty of old ageor infirmity; and those only who have lived in the habitual practice ofadministering to the happiness of others can conceive how much it coststhe generous heart to resist even the weaknesses of those it loves. ButMary felt she had already sacrificed too much to affection, and shefeared the reproaches and ridicule that awaited her return to BeechPark. She therefore gently, though steadily, adhered to her resolution, only softening it by a promise of returning soon. 

"What an angel goes there!" exclaimed Mrs. Lennox to her son, as Maryleft the room to prepare for her departure. "Ah! Charles, could I buthope to see her yours!"

Colonel Lennox smiled--"That must be when I am an angel myself then. Apoor weather-beaten soldier like me must be satisfied with somethingless. "

"But is she not a lovely creature?" asked his mother, with somesolicitude. 

"Angels, you know, are always fair, " replied Colonel Lennox laughingly, trying to parry this attack upon his heart. 

"Ah! Charles, that is not being serious. But young people now aredifferent from what they were in my day. There is no such thing asfalling in love now, you are all so cautious. "

And the good old lady's thoughts reverted to the time when the gay andgallant Captain Lennox had fallen desperately in love with her, as shedanced a minuet in a blue satin sacque and Bologna hat at a county ball. 

"You forget, my dear mother, what a knack I had in falling in love tenyears ago. Since then, I confess I have got rather out of the way of it;but a little, a very little practice, I am sure, will make me as expertas ever;--and then I promise you shall have no cause to complain of mycaution. "

Mrs. Lennox sighed and shook her head. She had long cherished the hopethat if ever her son came home it would be to fall in love with andmarry her beloved Mary; and she had dwelt upon this favourite schemetill it had taken entire possession of her mind. In the simplicity ofher heart she also imagined that it would greatly help to accelerate theevent were she to suggest the idea to her son, as she had no doubt butthat the object of her affections must necessarily become the idol ofhis. So little did she know of human nature that the very means she usedto accomplish her purpose were the most effectual she could havecontrived to defeat it. Such is man, that his pride revolts from allattempts to influence his affections. The weak and the undiscerning, indeed, are often led to "choose love by another's eyes;" but the loftyand independent spirit loves to create for itself those feelings whichlose half their charms when their source is not in the depths of theirown heart. 

It was with no slight mortification that Mrs. Lennox saw Mary departwithout having made the desired impression on the heart of her son; or, what was still more to be feared, of his having secured himself a placein her favour. But again and again she made Mary repeat her promise ofreturning soon, and spending some days with her. "And then, " thoughtshe, "things will all come right. When they live together, and see eachother constantly, they cannot possibly avoid loving each other, and allwill be as it should be. God grant I may live to see it!"

And hope softened the pang of disappointment. 

CHAPTER XII. 

 "Qui vous a pu plonger dans cette humeur chagrine, A-t-on par quelque edit réformé la cuisine?"

 BOILEAU. 

MARY'S inexperienced mind expected to find, on her return to Beech Park, some vestige of the pleasures of the preceding night--some shadows, atleast, of gaiety, to show what happiness she had sacrificed what delighther friends had enjoyed; but for the first time she beheld the hideousaspect of departed pleasure. Drooping evergreens, dying lamps, dimtransparencies, and faded flowers, met her view as she crossed the hall;while the public rooms were covered with dust from the chalked floors, and wax from the droppings of the candles. Everything, in short, lookedtawdry and forlorn. Nothing was in its place--nothing looked as it usedto do--and she stood amazed at the disagreeable metamorphose an thingshad undergone. 

Hearing some one approach, she turned and beheld Dr. Redgill enter. 

"So--it's only you, Miss Mary!" exclaimed he in a tone of chagrin. "Iwas in hopes it was some of the women-servants. 'Pon my soul, it'sdisgraceful to think that in this house there is not a woman stirringyet! I have sent five messages by my man to let Mrs. Brown know that Ihave been waiting for my breakfast these two hours; but this confoundedball has turned everything upside down! You are come to a pretty scene, "continued he, looking round with a mixture of fury and contempt, --"avery pretty scene! 'Pon my honour, I blush to see myself standing here!Just look at these rags!" kicking a festoon of artificial roses that hadfallen to the ground. "Can anything be more despicable?--and to thinkthat rational creatures in possession of their senses should takepleasure in the sight of such trumpery! 'Pon my soul, I--I--declare itconfounds me! I really used to think Lady Emily (for this is all herdoing) had some sense--but such a display of folly as this!"

"Pshaw!" said Mary, "it is not fair in us to stand here analysing thedregs of gaiety after the essence is gone. I daresay this was a verybrilliant scene last night. "

"Brilliant scene, indeed!" repeated the Doctor in a most; wrathfulaccent: "I really am amazed--I--yes--brilliant enough--if you mean thatthere was a glare of light enough to blind the devil. I thought my eyeswould have been put out the short time I stayed; indeed, I don't thinkthis one has recovered it yet, " advancing a fierce blood-shot eye almostclose to Mary's. "Don't you think it looks a _leettle_ inflamed, MissMary?"

Mary gave it as her opinion that it did. 

"Well, that's all I've got by this business; but I never was consultedabout it. I thought it my duty, however, to give a _leettle_ hint to theEarl, when the thing was proposed. 'My Lord, ' says I, 'your house isyour own; you have a right to do what you please with it; burn it; pullit down; make a purgatory of it; but, for God's sake, don't give a ballin it!' The ball was given, and you see the consequences. A ball! andwhat's a ball, that a whole family should be thrown into disorder forit?"

"I daresay, to those who are engaged in it, it is a very delightfulamusement at the time. "

"Delightful fiddlestick! 'Pon my soul, I'm surprised at you, Miss Mary!I thought your staying away was a pretty strong proof of your goodsense; but I--hem! Delightful amusement, indeed! to see human creaturestwirling one another about all night like so many monkeys--makingperfect mountebanks of themselves. Really, I look upon dancing as a mostdegrading and a most immoral practice. 'Pon my soul, I--_I_ couldn'thave the face to waltz, I know; and it's all on account of thisdelightful amusement--" with a convulsive shake of his chin--"that thingsare in this state--myself kept waiting for my breakfast two hours and ahalf beyond my natural time: not that I mind myself at all--that'sneither here nor there--and if I was the only sufferer, I'm sure Ishould be the very last to complain--but I own it vexes--it distressesme. 'Pon my honour, can't stand seeing a whole family going todestruction!"

The Doctor's agitation was so great that Mary really pitied him. 

"It is rather hard that you cannot get any breakfast since you had noenjoyment in the ball, " said she. "I daresay, were I to apply to Mrs. Brown, she would trust me with her keys; and I shall be happy tooofficiate for her in making your tea. "

"Thank you, Miss Mary, " replied the Doctor coldly. "I'm very much obligedto you. It is really a very polite offer on your part; but--hem!--youmight have observed that I never take tea to breakfast. I keep that forthe evening; most people, I know, do the reverse, but they're in thewrong. Coffee is too nutritive for the evening. The French themselvesare in an error there. That woman, that Mrs. Brown knows what I like; infact, she's the only woman I ever met with who could make coffee--coffeethat I thought drinkable. She knows that--and she knows that I like itto a moment--and yet---"

Here the Doctor blew his nose, and Mary thought she perceived a teartwinkle in his eye. Finding she was incapable of administeringconsolation, she was about to quit the room, when the Doctor, recoveringhimself, called after her. 

"If you happen to be going the way of Mrs. Brown's room, Miss Mary, Iwould take it very kind if you could just contrive to let her know whattime of day it is; and that I have not tasted a mouthful of anythingsince last night at twelve o'clock, when I took a _leettle_ morsel ofsupper in my own room. "

Mary took advantage of the deep sigh that followed to make her escape;and as she crossed the vestibule she descried the Doctor's man, hurryingalong with a coffee pot, which she had no doubt would pour consolationinto his master's soul. 

As Mary was aware of her mother's dislike to introduce her intocompany, she flattered herself she had for once done something to merither approbation by having absented herself on this occasion. But Marywas a novice in the ways of temper, and had yet to learn that to studyto please, and to succeed, are very different things. Lady Juliana hadbeen decidedly averse to her appearing at the ball, but she was equallydisposed to take offence at her having stayed away; besides, she had notbeen pleased herself, and her glass told her she looked jaded and ill. She was therefore, as her maid expressed it, in a most particular badtemper; and Mary had to endure reproaches, of which she could only makeout that although she ought not to have been present she was much toblame in having been absent. Lady Emily's indignation was in a differentstyle. There was a heat and energy in her anger that never failed tooverwhelm her victim at once. But it was more tolerable than thetedious, fretful ill humour of the other; and after she had fairlyexhausted herself in invectives, and ridicule, and insolence, and drawntears from her cousin's eyes by the bitterness of her language, sheheartily embraced her, vowed she liked her better than anybody in theworld, and that she was a fool for minding anything she said toher. 

"I assure you, " said she, "I was only tormenting you a little, and youmust own you deserve that; but you can't suppose I meant half what Isaid; that is a _bêtise_ I can't conceive you guilty of. You see Iam much more charitable in my conclusions than you. You have no scruplein thinking me a wretch, though I am too good-natured to set you downfor a fool. Come, brighten up, and I'll tell you all about the ball. HowI hate it, were it only for having made your nose red! But really thething in itself was detestable. Job himself must have gone mad at theprovocations I met with. In the first place, I had set my heart uponintroducing you with éclat, and instead of which you preferredpsalm-singing with Mrs. Lennox, or sentiment with her son--I don't knowwhich. In the next place there was a dinner in Bath, that kept away someof the best men; then, after waiting an hour and a half for Frederick tobegin the ball with Lady Charlotte M---, I went myself to his room, andfound him lounging by the fire with a volume of Rousseau in his hand, not dressed, and quite surprised that I should think his presence at allnecessary; and when he did make his entré, conceive my feelingsat seeing him single out Lady Placid as his partner! I certainly wouldrather have seen him waltzing with a hyena! I don't believe he knew orcared whom he danced with--unless, perhaps, it had been Adelaide, but shewas engaged; and, by-the-bye, there certainly is some sort of a liaisonthere; how it will end I don't know; it depends upon on themselves, forI'm sure the course of their love may run smooth if they choose--I knownothing to interrupt it. Perhaps, indeed, it may become stagnate fromthat very circumstance; for you know, or perhaps you don't know, 'thereis no spirit under heaven that works with such delusion. '"

Mary would have felt rather uneasy at his intelligence, had she believedit possible for her sister to be in love; but she had ever appeared toher so insensible to every tender emotion and generous affection, thatshe could not suppose even love itself as capable of making anyimpression on her heart. When, however, she saw them together, she beganto waver in her opinion. Adelaide, silent and disdainful to others, wasnow gay and enchanting to Lord Lindore, and looked as if she triumphedin the victory she had already won. It was not so easy to ascertain thenature of Lord Lindore's feelings towards his cousin, and time onlydeveloped them. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

"Les douleurs muettes et stupides sont hors d'usage; on pleure, onrécite, on répète, on est si touchée de la mort de son mari, qu'onn'en oublie pas la moindre circonstance. "

 LA BRUYERE. 

"PRAY put on your Lennox face this morning, Mary, " said Lady Emily oneday to her cousin, "for I want you to go and pay a funeral visit with meto a distant relation, but unhappily a near neighbour of ours, who haslately lost her husband. Lady Juliana and Adelaide ought to go, but theywon't, so you and I must celebrate, as we best can, the obsequies of theHonourable Mr. Sufton. "

Mary readily assented; and when they were seated in the carriage, hercousin began--

"Since I am going to put you in the way of a trap, I think it but fairto warn you of it. All traps are odious things, and I make it mybusiness to expose them wherever I find them. I own it chafes my spiritto see even sensible people taken in by the clumsy machinery of such awoman as Lady Matilda Sufton. So here she is in her true colours. LadyMatilda is descended from the ancient and illustrious family ofAltamont. To have a fair character is, in her eyes, much more importantthan to deserve it. She has prepared speeches for every occasion, andshe expects they are all to be believed--in short, she is a _show_woman; the world is her theatre, and from it she looks for the plauditsdue to her virtue; for with her the reality and the semblance aresynonymous. She has a grave and imposing air, which keeps the timid at adistance; and she delivers the most common truths as if they were themost profound aphorisms. To degrade herself is her greatest fear; for, to use her own expression, there is nothing so degrading as associatingwith our inferiors--that is, our inferiors in rank and wealth--for withher all other gradations are incomprehensible. With the lower orders ofsociety she is totally unacquainted; she knows they are meanly clothedand coarsely fed, consequently they are mean. She is proud, both fromnature and principle; for she thinks it is the duty of every woman offamily to be proud, and that humility is only a virtue in the_canaille. _ Proper pride she calls it, though I rather think it oughtto be pride _proper, _ as I imagine it is a distinction that was unknownbefore the introduction of heraldry. The only true knowledge, accordingto her creed, is the knowledge of the world, by which she means aknowledge of the most courtly etiquette, the manners and habits of thegreat, and the newest fashions in dress. Ignoramuses might suppose sheentered deeply into things, and was thoroughly acquainted with humannature. No such thing; the only wisdom she possesses, like the owl isthe look of wisdom, and that is the very part of it which I detest. Passions or feelings she has none, and to love she is an utter stranger. When somewhat 'in the sear and yellow leaf' she married Mr. Sufton, asilly old man, who had been dead to the world for many years. But afterhaving had him buried alive in his own chamber till his existence wasforgot, she had him disinterred for the purpose of giving him a splendidburial in good earnest. That done, her duty is now to mourn, or appearto mourn, for the approbation of the world. And now you shall judge foryourself, for here is Sufton House. Now for the trappings and the weedsof woe. "

Aware of her cousin's satirical turn, Mary was not disposed to yieldconviction to her representation, but entered Lady Matilda'sdrawing-room with a mind sufficiently unbiassed to allow her to form herown judgment; but a very slight survey satisfied her that the picturewas not overcharged. Lady Matilda sat in an attitude of woe--acrape--fan and open prayer-book lay before her--her cambric handkerchiefwas in her hand--her mourning-ring was upon her finger--and the tear, not unbidden, stood in her eye. On the same sofa, and side by side, sata tall, awkward, vapid-looking personage, whom she introduced as herbrother, the Duke of Altamont. His Grace was flanked by anobsequious-looking gentleman, who was slightly named as General Carver;and at a respectful distance was seated a sort of half-castgentle-woman, something betwixt the confide humble companion, who wasincidentally as "my good Mrs. Finch. "

Her Ladyship pressed Lady Emily's hand--

"I did not expect, my dearest young friend, after the blow I haveexperienced--I did not expect I should so soon have been enabled to seemy friends; but I have made a great exertion. Had I consulted my ownfeelings, indeed!--but there is a duty we owe to the world--there is anexample we are all bound to show--but such a blow!" Here she hadrecourse to her handkerchief. 

"Such a blow!" echoed the Duke. 

"Such a blow!" re-echoed the General. 

"Such a blow!" reverberated Mrs. Finch. 

"The most doating husband! I may say he lived but in my sight. Such aman!"

"Such a man!" said the Duke. 

"Such a man!" exclaimed the General. 

"Oh! such a man!" sobbed Mrs. Finch, as she complacently dropped a fewtears. At hat moment, sacred to tender remembrance, the door opened, andMrs. Downe Wright was announced. She entered the room as if she had cometo profane the ashes of the dead, and insult the feelings of the living. A smile was upon her face; and, in place of the silent pressure, sheshook her Ladyship heartily by the hand as she expressed her pleasure atseeing her look so well. 

"Well!" replied the Lady, "that is wonderful, after whatever havesuffered; but grief, it seems, will not kill!"

"I never thought it would, " said Mrs. Downe Wright; "but I thought yourhaving been confined to the house so long might have affected yourlooks. However, I'm happy to see that is not the case, as I don'trecollect ever to have seen you so fat. "

Lady Matilda tried to look her into decency, but in vain. She sighed, and even groaned; but Mrs. Downe Wright would not be dolorous, and wasnot to be taken in, either by sigh or groan, crape-fan or prayer-book. There was nobody her Ladyship stood so much in awe of as Mrs. DowneWright. She had an instinctive knowledge that she knew her, and she felther genius repressed by her, as Julius Cresar's was by Cassius. They hadbeen very old acquaintances, but never were cordial friends, though manyworthy people are very apt to confound the two. Upon this occasion Mrs. Downe Wright certainly did; for, availing herself of this privilege, shetook off her cloak, and said, "'Tis so long since I have seen you, mydear; and since I see you so well, and able to enjoy the society of yourfriends, I shall delay the rest of my visits, and spend the morning withyou. "

"That is truly kind of you, my dear Mrs. Downe Wright, " returned themourner, with a countenance in which real woe was now plainly depicted;"but I cannot be so selfish as to claim such a sacrifice from you. "

"There is no sacrifice in the case, I assure you, my dear, " returnedMrs. Downe Wright. "This is a most comfortable room; and I could gonowhere that I would meet a pleasanter little circle, " looking round. 

Lady Matilda thought herself undone. Looking well--fat--comfortableroom--pleasant circle--rung in her ears, and caused almost as great awhirl in her brain as noses, lips, handkerchiefs, did in Othello's Mrs. Downe Wright, always disagreeable, was now perfectly insupportable. Shehad disconcerted all her plans--she was a bar to all her studiedspeeches--even an obstacle to all her sentimental looks; yet to get ridof her was impossible. In fact, Mrs. Downe Wright was far from being anamiable woman. She took a malicious pleasure in tormenting those she didnot like; and her skill in this art was so great that she even deprivedthe tormented of the privilege of complaint. She had a great insightinto character, and she might be said to read the very thoughts of hisvictims. Making a desperate effort to be herself again, Lady Matildaturned to her two young visitors, with whom she had still some hopes ofsuccess. 

"I cannot express how much I feel indebted to the sympathy of my friendsupon this trying occasion--an occasion, indeed, that called forsympathy. "

"A most melancholy occasion!" said the Duke. 

"A most distressing occasion!" exclaimed the General. 

"Never was greater occasion!" moaned Mrs_. _ Finch. 

Her Ladyship wiped her eyes, and resumed. 

"I feel that I act but a melancholy part, in spite of every exertion. But my kind friend Mrs. Downe Wright's spirits will, I trust, supportme. She knows what it is to lose--"

Again her voice was buried in her handkerchief, and again she recoveredand proceeded. 

"I ought to apologise for being thus overcome; but my friends, I hope, will make due allowance for my situation. It cannot be expected that Ishould at all times find myself able for company. "

"Not at all!" said the Duke; and the two satellites uttered theirresponses. 

"You are able for a great deal, my dear!" said the provoking Mrs. DowneWright; "and I have no doubt but, with a very little exertion, you couldbehave as if nothing had happened. "

"Your partiality makes you suppose me capable of a great deal more thanI am equal to, " answered her Ladyship, with a real hysteric sob. "It isnot everyone who is blessed with the spirits of Mrs. Downe Wright. "

"What woman can do, you dare; who dares do more, is none!" said theGeneral, bowing with a delighted air at this brilliant application. 

Mrs. Downe Wright charitably allowed it to pass, as she thought it mightbe construed either as a compliment or a banter. Visitors flocked in, and the insufferable Mrs. Downe Wright declared to all that her Ladyshipwas astonishingly well; but without the appropriate whine, which givesproper pathos, and generally accompanies this hackneyed speech. Mrs. Finch indeed laboured hard _to _counteract the effect of thisinjudicious cheerfulness by the most orthodox sighs, shakes of the head, and confidential whispers, in which "wonderful woman!"--"prodigiousexertion!"--"perfectly overcome!"--"suffer for this afterwards, "--wereaudibly heard by all present; but even then Mrs. Downe Wright's drawn-uplip and curled nose spoke daggers. At length the tormentor recollectedan engagement she had made elsewhere, and took leave, promising toreturn, if possible, the following day. Her friend, in her own mind, took her measures accordingly. She resolved to order her own carriage tobe in waiting, and if Mrs. Downe Wright put her threat in execution shewould take an airing. True, she had not intended to have been able forsuch an exertion for at least a week longer; but, with the blinds down, she thought it might have an interesting effect. 

The enemy fairly gone, Lady Matilda seemed to feel like a personsuddenly relieved from the nightmare; and she was beginning to give afair specimen of her scenic powers when Lady Emily, seeing the game wasup with Mrs. Downe Wright, abruptly rose to depart. 

"This has been a trying scene for you, my sweet young friends!" said herLadyship, taking a hand of each. 

"It has indeed!" replied Lady Emily, in a tone so significant as madeMary start. 

"I know it would--youth is always so full of sympathy. I own I have apreference for the society of my young friends on that account. My goodMrs. Finch, indeed, is an exception; but worthy Mrs. Downe Wright hasbeen almost too much for me. "

"She is too much!" said the Duke. 

"She is a great deal too much!" said the General. 

"She is a vast deal too much!" said Mrs. Finch. 

"I own I have been rather overcome by her!" with a deep-drawn sigh, which her visitors hastily availed themselves of to make their retreat. The Duke and the General handed Lady Emily and Mary to theircarriage. 

"You find my poor sister wonderfully composed, " said the former. 

"Charming woman, Lady Matilda!" ejaculated the latter; "her feelings dohonour to her head and heart!"

Mary sprang into the carriage as quick as possible to be saved theembarrassment of a reply; and it was not till they were fairly out ofsight that she ventured to raise her eyes to her cousin's face. Therethe expression of ill-humour and disgust were so strongly depicted thatshe could not longer repress her risible emotions, but gave way to aviolent fit of laughter. 

"How!" exclaimed her companion, "is this the only effect 'Matilda'smoan' has produced upon you? I expected your taste for grief would havebeen highly gratified by this affecting representation. "

"My appetite, you ought rather to say, " replied Mary; "taste impliessome discrimination, which you seem to deny me. "

"Why, to tell you the truth, I do look upon you as a sort ofintellectual ghoul; you really do remind me of the lady in the ArabianNights, whose taste or appetite, which you will, led her to scorneverything that did not savour of the churchyard. "

"The delicacy of your comparison is highly flattering, " said Mary; "butI must be duller than the fatweed were I to give my sympathy to such asLady Matilda Sufton. "

"Well, I'm glad to hear you say so; for I assure you I was in pain lestyou should have been taken in, notwithstanding my warning to saysomething _larmoyante--or_ join the soft echo--or heave a sigh--or drop atear--or do something, in short, that would have disgraced you with mefor ever. At one time, I must do you the justice to own, I thought I sawyou with difficulty repress a smile, and then you blushed so, for fearyou had betrayed yourself! The smile I suppose has gained you oneconquest--the blush another. How happy you who can hit the varioustastes so easily! Mrs. Downe Wright whispered me as she left the room, 'What a charming intelligent countenance your cousin has!' While my LordDuke of Altamont observed, as he handed me along, 'What a very sweetmodest-looking girl Miss Douglas was! 'So take your choice--Mrs. WilliamDowne Wright, or Duchess of Altamont!"

"Duchess of Altamont, to be sure, " said Mary: "and then such a man! Oh!such a man!"

CHAPTER XIV. 

 "For marriage is a matter of more worth Than to be dealt with in attorneyship. "

 SHAKESPEARE. 

"ALLOW me to introduce to you, ladies, that most high and puissantPrincess, her Grace the Duchess of Altamont, Marchioness of Norwood, Countess of Penrose, Baroness of, etc. Etc. , " cried Lady Emily, as shethrew open the drawing-room door, and ushered Mary into the presence ofher mother and sister, with all the demonstrations of ceremony andrespect. The one frowned-the other coloured. 

"How vastly absurd!" cried Lady Juliana angrily. 

"How vastly amusing!" cried Adelaide contemptuously. 

"How vastly annoying!" cried Lady Emily; "to think that this littleHighlander should bear a loft the ducal crown, while you and I, Adelaide, must sneak about in shabby straw bonnets, " throwing down herown in pretended indignation. "Then to think, which is almost certain, ofher Viceroying it someday; and you and I, and all of us, being presentedto her Majesty--having the honour of her hand to kiss--retreating fromthe royal presence upon our heels. 

"Oh! ye Sylphs and Gnomes!" and she pretended to sink down overwhelmedwith mortification. 

Lady Emily delighted in tormenting her aunt and cousin, and she saw thatshe had completely succeeded. Mary was disliked by her mother, anddespised by her sister; and any attempt to bring her forward, or raiseher to a level with themselves, never failed to excite the indignation ofboth. The consequences were always felt by her in the increasedill-humour and disdainful indifference with which she was treated; andon the present occasion her injudicious friend was only brewing phialsof wrath for her. But Lady Emily never looked to futureconsequences--present effect was all she cared for; and she went on torelate seriously, as she called it, but in the most exaggerated terms, the admiration which the Duke had expressed for Mary, and her own firmbelief that she might be Duchess when she chose; "that is, after theexpiry of his mourning for the late Duchess. Everyone knows that he isdesirous of having a family, and is determined to marry the momentpropriety permits; he is now decidedly on the look-out, for the yearmust be very near a close; and then, hail Duchess of Altamont!"

"I must desire, Lady Emily, you will find some other subject for yourwit, and not fill the girl's head with folly and nonsense; there is agreat deal too much of both already. "

"Take care what you say of the future representative of majesty of thismay be high treason yet; only I trust your Grace will be as generous asHenry the Fifth was, and that the Duchess of Altamont will not rememberthe offences committed against Mary Douglas. "

Lady Juliana, to whom a jest was an outrage, and railleryincomprehensible, now started up, and, as she passionately swept out ofthe room, threw down a stand of hyacinths, which, for the present, put astop to Lady Emily's diversion. 

The following day Mrs. Downe Wright arrived with her son, evidentlyprimed for falling in love at first sight. He was a very handsome youngman, gentle, and rather pleasing in his manners; and Mary, to whom hisintentions were not so palpable, thought him by no means deserving ofthe contempt her cousin had expressed for him. 

"Well!" cried Lady Emily, after they were gone, "the plot begins tothicken; lovers begin to pour in, but all for Mary; how mortifying toyou and me, Adelaide! At this rate we shall have nothing to boast of inthe way of disinterested attachment nobody refused!--nothing renounced!By-and-bye Edward will be reckoned a very good match for _me, _and _you_will be thought greatly married if you succeed in securingLindore--_poor_ Lord Lindore, as it seems that wretch Placid calls him. "

Adelaide heard all her cousin's taunts in silence and with apparentcoolness; but they rankled deep in a heart already festering with pride, envy, and ambition. The thoughts of her sister--and that sister soinferior to herself--attaining a more splendid alliance, was not to beendured. True, she loved Lord Lindore, and imagined herself beloved inreturn; but even that was not sufficient to satisfy the craving passionsof a perverted mind. She did not, indeed, attach implicit belief to allthat her cousin said on the subject; but she was provoked and irritatedat the mere supposition of such a thing being possible; for it is notmerely the jealous whose happiness is the sport of trifles light asair--every evil thought, every unamiable feeling, bears about with itthe bane of that enjoyment after which it vainly aspires. 

Mary felt the increasing ill-humour which this subject drew upon her, without being able to penetrate the cause of it; but she saw that it wasdispleasing to her mother and sister, and that was sufficient to makeher wish to put a stop to it. She therefore earnestly entreated LadyEmily to end the joke. 

"Excuse me, " replied her Ladyship, "I shall do no such thing. In thefirst place, there happens to be no joke in the matter. I'm certain, seriously certain, or certainly serious, which you like, that you may beDuchess of Altamont, if you please. It could be no common admirationthat prompted his Grace to an original and spontaneous effusion of it. Ihave met with him before, and never suspected that he had an innate ideain his head. I certainly never heard him utter anything half sobrilliant before--it seemed quite like the effect of inspiration. "

"But I cannot conceive, even were it as you say, why my mother should beso displeased about it. She surely cannot suppose me so silly as to beelated by the unmeaning admiration of anyone, or so meanly aspiring asto marry a man I could not love, merely because he is a Duke. She wasincapable of such a thing herself, she cannot then suspect me. "

"It seems as impossible to make you enter into the characters of yourmother and sister as it would be to teach them to comprehend yours, andfar be it from me to act as interpreter betwixt your understandings. Ifyou can't even imagine such things as prejudice, narrow-mindedness, envy, hatred, and malice, your ignorance is bliss, and you had betterremain in it. But you may take my word for one thing, and that is, that'tis a much wiser thing to resist tyranny than to submit to it. Yourpatient Grizzles make nothing of it, except in little books: in reallife they become perfect pack-horses, saddled with the whole offences ofthe family. Such will you become unless you pluck up spirit and dashout. Marry the Duke, and drive over the necks of all your relations;that's my advice to you. "

"And you may rest assured that when I follow your advice it shall bein whole not in part. "

"Well, situated so detestably as you are, I rather think the best thingyou could do would be to make yourself Duchess of Altamont. Howdisdainful you look! Come, tell me honestly now, would you really refuseto be Your Grace, with ninety thousand a year, and remain simple MaryDouglas, passing rich with perhaps forty?"

"Unquestionably, " said Mary. 

"What! you really pretend to say you would not marry the Duke ofAltamont?" cried Lady Emily. "Not that I would take him myself; but asyou and I, though the best of friends, differ widely in our sentimentson most subjects, I should really like to know how it happens that wecoincide in this one. Very different reasons, I daresay, lead to thesame conclusion; but I shall generously give you the advantage ofhearing mine first. I shall say nothing of being engaged--I shall evenbanish that idea from my thoughts; but were I free as air--unloving andunloved--I would refuse the Duke of Altamont; first, because he: isold--no, first, because he is stupid; second, because he is formal;third, because he swallows all Lady Matilda's flummery; fourth, becausehe is more than double my age; fifth, because he is not handsome; and, to sum up the whole in the sixth, he wants that inimitable _Je ne scaisquoi_ which I consider as a necessary ingredient in the matrimonial cup. I shall not, in addition to these defects, dwell upon his unmeaningstare, his formal bow, his little senseless simper, etc. Etc. Etc. Allthese enormities, and many more of the same stamp, I shall pass by, as Ihave no doubt they had their due effect upon you as well as me; but thenI am not like you, under the torments of Lady Juliana's authority. Werethat the case, I should certainly think it a blessing to become Duchessof anybody to-morrow. "

"And can you really imagine, " said Mary, "that for the sake of shakingoff a parent's authority I would impose upon myself chains stillheavier, and even more binding? Can you suppose I would so far forfeitmy honour and truth as that I would swear to love, honour, and obey, where I could feel neither love nor respect, and where cold constrainedobedience would be all of my duty I could hope to fulfil?"

"Love!"exclaimed Lady Emily; "can I credit my ears? Love! did you say Ithought that had only been for naughty ones, such as me; and thatsaints like you would have married for anything and everything butlove! Prudence, I thought, had been the word with you proper ladies--aprudent marriage! Come, confess, is not that the climax of virtue inthe creed of your school?"

"I never learnt the creed of any school, " said Mary, "nor ever heardanyone's sentiments on the subject, except my dear Mrs. Douglas's. "

"Well, I should like to hear your oracle's opinion, if you can give itin shorthand. "

"She warned me there was a passion which was very fashionable, and whichI should hear a great deal of, both in conversation and books, that wasthe result of indulged fancy, warm imaginations, and ill-regulatedminds; that many had fallen into its snares, deceived by its glowingcolours and alluring name; that--"

"A very good sermon, indeed!" interrupted Lady Emily; "but, no offenceto Mrs. Douglas, I think I could preach a better myself. Love is apassion that has been much talked of, often described, and littleunderstood. Cupid has many counterfeits going about the world, who passvery well with those whose minds are capable of passion, but not oflove. These Birmingham Cupids have many votaries amongst boarding-schoolmisses, militia officers, and milliners 'apprentices; who marry upon themutual faith of blue eyes and scarlet coats; have dirty houses andsqualling children, and hate each other most delectably. Then there isanother species for more refined souls, which owes its birth to theworks of Rousseau, Goethe, Cottin, etc. Its success depends very muchupon rocks, woods, and waterfalls; and it generally ends daggers, pistols, or poison. But there, I think, Lindore would be more eloquentthan me, so I shall leave it for him to discuss that chapter with you. But, to return to your own immediate concerns. Pray, are you thenpositively prohibited from falling in love? Did Mrs. Douglas only dressup a scarecrow to frighten you, or had she the candour to show you Lovehimself in all his majesty?"

"She told me, " said Mary, "that there was a love which even the wisestand most virtuous need not blush to entertain--the love of a virtuousobject, founded upon esteem, and heightened by similarity of tastes andsympathy of feelings, into a pure and devoted attachment: unless I feelall this, I shall never fancy myself in love. "

"Humph! I can't say much as to the similarity of tastes and sympathyof souls between the Duke and you, but surely you might contrive to feelsome love and esteem for a coronet and ninety thousand a year. " "Suppose I did, " said Mary, with a smile, "the next pointis to honour; and surely he is as unlikely to excite that sentiment asthe other. Honour---"

"I can't have a second sermon upon honour. 'Can honour take away thegrief of a wound?' as Falstaff says. Love is the only subject I care topreach about; though, unlike many young ladies, we can talk about otherthings too; but as to this Duke, _I_ certainly 'had rather live oncheese and garlic, in a windmill far, than feed on cakes, and have himtalk to me in any summer-house in Christendom;' and now I have had Mrs. Douglas's second-hand sentiments upon the subject, I should like to hearyour own. "

"I have never thought much upon the subject, " said Mary; "my sentimentsare therefore all at second-hand, but I shall repeat to you what I thinkis not love, and what is. " And she repeated these pretty and well-knownlines:--

 CARELESS AND FAITHFUL LOVE. 

 To sigh--yet feel no pain; To weep-yet scarce know why; To sport an hour with beauty's chain, Then throw it idly by; To kneel at many a shrine, Yet lay the heart on none; To think all other charms divine But those we just have won:-- This is love-careless love-- Such as kindleth hearts that rove. To keep one sacred flame Through life, unchill'd, unmov'd; To love in wint'ry age the same That first in youth we loved; To feel that we adore With such refined excess, That though the heart would break with more, We could not love with less:-- This is love--faithful love-- Such as saints might feel above. 

"And such as I do feel, and will always feel, for my Edward, " said LadyEmily. "But there is the dressing-bell!" And she flew off, singing--

"To keep one sacred flame, " etc. 

CHAPTER XV. 

"Some, when they write to their friends, are all affection; Some arewise and sententious; some strain their powers for efforts of gaiety;some write news, and some write secrets--but to make a letter withoutaffection, without wisdom, without gaiety, without news, and without asecret, is doubtless the great epistolic art. "-DR. JOHNSON. 

AN unusual length of time had elapsed since Mary had heard fromGlenfern, and she was beginning to feel some anxiety on account of herfriends there, when her apprehensions were dispelled by the arrival of alarge packet, containing letters from Mrs. Douglas and Aunt Jacky. Theformer, although the one that conveyed the greatest degree of pleasure, was perhaps not the one that would be most acceptable to the reader. Indeed, it is generally admitted that the letters of single ladies areinfinitely more lively and entertaining than those of married ones--afact which can neither be denied nor accounted for. The following is afaithful transcript from the original letter in question;--

"GLENFERN CASTLE, ---SHIRE, N. B. _Feb. 19th, _ 18--. 

"My DEAR MARY--Yours was _received_ with _much_ pleasure, as it is_always_ a satisfaction to your friends _here_ to know that you are_well_ and doing _well. _ We all _take_ the most _sincere_ interest inyour _health, _ and also in your _improvements_ in other _respects. _ ButI am _sorry_ to say they do not quite _keep_ pace with _our_expectations. I must therefore _take_ this opportunity of _mentioning_to you a _fault_ of yours, _which, _ though a very great _one _in itself, is one _that_ a very slight _degree_ of attention on your _part, _ will, I have _no_ doubt, enable you to _get_ entirely the _better of. _ isfortunate for _you, _ my dear Mary, that you have _friends_ who arealways ready to point _out_ your errors to you. For _want_ of that_most_ invaluable _blessing, _ viz. A sincere _friend, _many a _one_ hasgone out of the _world, _ no wiser in many _respects, _ than when they_came_ into it. But that, I flatter _myself, _ will not be your _case, _as you cannot _but_ be sensible of the great _pains_ my sister and Ihave _taken_ to point out your _faults_ to you from the _hour _of yourbirth. The _one_ to which I particularly _allude _at present is, theconstant omission of _proper_ dates to your _letters, _ by which means weare all of us very often _brought_ into _most_ unpleasant _situations. _As an _instance_ of it, our _worthy_ minister, Mr M'Drone, happened tobe _calling_ here the very _day_ we received your last _letter. _ After_hearing_ it read, he most _naturally_ inquired the date of it; and I_cannot_ tell you how _awkward_ we all _felt_ when we were _obliged_ toconfess it had _none!_ And since I am _upon_ that subject, I think itmuch _better_ to tell you candidly that I _do_ not think your _hand_ ofwrite by any _means_ improved. It does not _look_ as if you _bestowed_that pains upon it which you _undoubtedly_ ought to do; for without_pains, _ I can assure you, Mary, you _will_ never do any _thing_ well. As our admirable _grandmother, _ good Lady Girnachgowl, _used_ to say, pains _makes_ gains; and so it was _seen_ upon her; for it was entirely_owing_ to her _pains_ that the Girnachgowl estate was relieved, and_came_ to be what it is now, viz. A most valuable and _highly_productive _property. _

"I know there are _many_ young _people_ who are very _apt _to think it_beneath_ them to take _pains;"_ but I sincerely trust, my dear Mary, you have _more_ sense than to be so very _foolish. _ Next to a gooddistinct _hand_ of write, and _proper_ stops (which I observe you never_put), _ the thing _most_ to be attended to is your style, _which_ we allthink might _be_ greatly _improved_ by a _little _reflection on your_part, _ joined to a _few_ judicious _hints_ from your friends. We are_all_ of opinion, that your _periods_ are too short, and also _that_your expressions are _deficient_ in dignity. _Neither_ are yousufficiently circumstantial in your _intelligence, _ even upon subjectsof the highest _importance. _ Indeed, upon some _subjects, _ you_communicate_ no information whatever, which is _certainly_ veryextraordinary in a _young_ person, who ought to be naturally extremelycommunicative. Miss M'Pry, who is here upon a _visit_ to us at_present, _ is perfectly _astonished_ at the total _want_ of news in your_letters. _She has a _niece_ residing in the neighbourhood of _Bath, _whosends her regular lists of the company there, and also an _account_ ofthe most _remarkable_ events that take _place _there. Indeed, had it not_been_ for Patty M'Pry, we never would have _heard_ a _syllable_ of thecelebrated _Lady _Travers's elopement with _Sir_ John Conquest; and, indeed, I cannot _conceal_ from you, that we have heard more as to whatgoes on in Lord Courtland's _family_ through Miss Patty M'Pry, than_ever_ we have heard from you, _Mary. _

"In short, I _must_ plainly tell you, _however_ painful you may _feel_it, that not one of us is ever a _whit_ the wiser after reading your_letters_ than we _were_ before. But I am _sorry_ to say this is not the_most_ serious part of the _complaint_ we have to _make_ against you. We are all _willing_ to find excuses for you, even _upon_ these points, but I must _confess, _ your neglecting to _return_ any answers to certaininquiries of your aunts', _appears_ to me perfectly inexcusable. Of_course, _ you must _understand_ that I allude to that _letter_ of yourAunt Grizzy's, dated the 17th of December, wherein she _expressed_ astrong desire that you should endeavour to make yourself _mistress_ ofDr. Redgill's opinion with _respect_ to lumbago, as she is extremelyanxious to _know_ whether he _considers_ the seat of the disorder to bein the bones or the sinews; and undoubtedly it is of the greatest_consequence_ to procure the _opinion_ of a sensible well-informedEnglish _physician, _ upon a subject of such vital _importance. _ YourAunt Nicky, also, in a letter, _dated_ the 22d of December, requested tobe _informed_ whether Lord Courtland (like our _great_ landholders)killed his own _mutton_, as Miss P. M'P. Insinuates in a _letter_ to heraunt, that the _servants_ there are suspected of being _guilty_ of great_abuses_ on that _score_; but there you also _preserve_ a mostunbecoming, and I own I think _somewhat mysterious silence. _

"And now, my dear Mary, _having_ said all that _I_ trust is necessaryto _recall_ you to a sense of _your_ duty, I _shall_ now communicate toyou a _piece_ of intelligence, _which, _ I am certain, will _occasion_you the _most _unfeigned pleasure, viz. The prospect there is of yoursoon _beholding_ some of your friends from this _quarter_ in Bath. Ourvaluable friend and _neighbour, _ Sir Sampson, has been rather (we think)worse than _better_ since you left us. He is now _deprived_ of theentire use of one leg. He _himself _calls his _complaint_ a morbidrheumatism; but Lady Maclaughlan _assures_ us it is a rheumatic palsy, and she has now _formed_ the resolution of _taking_ him _up_ to Bathearly in the ensuing _spring. _ And not only that, but she has mostconsiderately _invited_ your Aunt Grizzy to accompany them, _which, _ ofcourse, she is to do with the greatest _pleasure. _ We are therefore allextremely _occupied_ in getting your aunt's things _put_ in order forsuch an _occasion;_ and you must _accept_ of that as an apology fornone of the girls _being_ at leisure to write _you_ at present, and_likewise_ for the shortness of _this_ letter. But be assured we will all_write_ you fully by Grizzy. Meantime, all _unite_ in kind remembranceto _you. _ And I _am, _ my dear Mary, your most affectionate aunt, "JOANDOUGLAS. "

"P. S. --Upon _looking_ over your letter, I am much _struck_ with yourX's. You surely _cannot_ be so ignorant as _not_ to know that a well_made x_ is neither more nor _less_ than _two c's_ joined together backto back, _instead_ of these senseless crosses you _seem_ so fond of; andas to _your z's, _I defy any _one_ to distinguish them _from_ your _y_'s. _I trust you will _attend_ to this, and show that it _proceeds _ratherfrom want of proper _attention_ than _from_ wilful airs. 

 J. D. "

"P. S. -Miss P. M'Pry _writes_ her aunt that _there_ is a strong _report_of Lord Lindore's marriage to our _niece_ Adelaide; but _we _think thatis _impossible, _ as you certainly _never_ could have omitted to _inform_us of a circumstance _which_ so deeply concerns _us. _ If so, I must_own_ I shall think you quite _unpardonable. _ At the _same_ time, it_appears _extremely improbable _that_ Miss M'P. _would_ have mentioned_such_ a thing to her _aunt, _without having good _grounds_ to _go_ upon. J. D. "

Mary could not entirely repress her mirth while she read this catalogueof her crimes; but she was, at the same time, eager to expiate heroffences, real or imaginary, in the sight of her good old aunt; and sheimmediately sat down to the construction of a letter after the modelprescribed;--though with little expectation of being able to cope withthe intelligent Miss P. M'P. In the extent of her communications. Herheart warmed at the thoughts of seeing again the dear familiar face ofAunt Grizzy, and of hearing the tones of that voice, which, though sharpand cracked, still sounded sweet in memory's ear. Such is the power thatearly associations ever retain over the kind and unsophisticated heart. But she was aware how differently her mother would feel on the subject, as she never alluded to her husband's family but with indignation orcontempt; and she therefore resolved to be silent with regard to AuntGrizzy's prospects for the present. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

". . . . As in apothecaries' shops all sorts of drugs are permitted tobe, so may all sorts of books be in the library; and as they out ofvipers, and scorpions, and poisonous vegetables extract often wholesomemedicaments for the life of mankind, so out of whatsoever book goodinstruction and examples may be acquired. "--DRUMMOND _of Hawthornden. _

MARY's thoughts had often reverted to Rose Hall since the day she hadlast quitted it, and she longed to fulfil her promise to her venerablefriend; but a feeling of delicacy, unknown to herself, withheld her. "She will not miss me while she has her son with her, " said she toherself; but in reality she dreaded her cousin's raillery should shecontinue to visit there as frequently as before. At length a favourableopportunity occurred. Lady Emily, with great exultation, told her theDuke of Altamont was to dine at Beech Park the following day, but thatshe was to conceal it from Lady Juliana and Adelaide; "for assuredly, "said she, "if they were apprised of it, they would send you up to thenursery as a naughty girl, or perhaps down to the scullery, and make aCinderella of you. Depend upon it you would not get leave to show yourface in the drawing-room. "

"Do you really think so?" asked Mary. 

"I know it. I know Lady Juliana would torment you till she had set you acrying; and then she would tell you you had made yourself such a frightthat you were not fit to be seen, and so order you to your own room. Youknow very well it would not be the first time that such a thing hashappened. "

Mary could not deny the fact; but, sick of idle altercation, sheresolved to say nothing, but walk over to Rose Hall the followingmorning. And this she did, leaving a note for her cousin, apologisingfor her flight. 

She was received with rapture by Mrs. Lennox. 

"Ah! my dear Mary, " said she, as she tenderly embraced her, "you knownot, you cannot conceive, what a blank your absence makes in my life!When you open your eyes in the morning, it is to see the light of dayand the faces you love, and all is brightness around you. But when Iwake it is still to darkness. My night knows no end. 'Tis only when Ilisten to your dear voice that I forget I am blind. "

"I should not have stayed so long from you, " said Mary, "but I knew youhad Colonel Lennox with you, and I could not flatter myself you wouldhave even a thought to bestow upon me. "

"My Charles is, indeed, everything that is kind and devoted to me. Hewalks with me, reads to me, talks to me, sits with me for hours, andbears with all my little weaknesses as a mother would with her sickchild; but still there are a thousand little feminine attentions hecannot understand. I would not that he did. And then to have him alwayswith me seems so selfish; for, gentle and tender-hearted as he is, Iknow he bears the spirit of an eagle within him; and the tame monotonyof my life can ill accord with the nobler habits of his. Yet he says heis happy with me, and I try to make myself believe him. "

"Indeed, " said Mary, "I cannot doubt it. It is always a happinessto be with those we love, and whom we know love us, under anycircumstances; and it is for that reason I love so much to come to mydear Mrs. Lennox, " caressing her as she spoke. 

"Dearest Mary, who would not love you? Oh! could I but see--could Ibut hope--"

"You must hope everything you desire, " said Mary gaily, and littleguessing the nature of her good friend's hopes; "I do nothing but hope. "And she tried to check a sigh, as she thought how some of her best hopeshad been already blighted by the unkindness of those whose love she hadvainly striven to win. 

Mrs. Lennox's hopes were already upon her lips, when the entrance of herson fortunately prevented their being for ever destroyed by a prematuredisclosure. He welcomed Mary with an appearance of the greatestpleasure, and looked so much happier and more animated than when shelast saw him, that she was struck with the change, and began to think hemight almost stand a comparison with his picture. 

"You find me still here, Miss Douglas, " said he, "although my mothergives me many hints to be gone, by insinuating what indeed cannot bedoubted, how very ill I supply your place; but--" turning to hismother--"you are not likely to be rid of me for sometime, as I have justreceived an additional leave of absence; but for that, I must have leftyou tomorrow. "

"Dear Charles, you never told me so. How could you conceal it from me?How wretched I should have been had I dreamed of such a thing!"

"That is the very reason for which I concealed it, and yet you reproachme. Had I told you there was a chance of my going, you would assuredlyhave set it down for a certainty, and so have been vexed for nopurpose. "

"But your remaining was a chance too, " said Mrs. Lennox, who could notall at once reconcile herself even to an _escape_ from danger; "andthink, had you been called away from me without any preparation!--Indeed, Charles, it was very imprudent. "

"My dearest mother, I meant it in kindness. I could not bear to give youa moment's certain uneasiness for an uncertain evil. I really cannotdiscover either the use or the virtue of tormenting one's self byanticipation. I should think it quite as rational to case myself in asuit of mail, by way of security to my person, as to keep my mindperpetually on the rack of anticipating evil. I perfectly agree withthat philosopher who says, if we confine ourselves to generalreflections on the evils of life, _that_ can have no effect in preparingus for them; and if we bring them home to us, _that_ is the certainmeans of rendering ourselves miserable. "

"But they will come, Charles, " said his mother mournfully, "whether webring them or not. "

"True, my dear mother; but when misfortune does come, it comescommissioned from a higher power, and it will ever find a well-regulatedmind ready to receive it with reverence, and submit to it withresignation. There is something, too, in real sorrow that tends toenlarge and exalt the soul; but the imaginary evils of our own creatingcan only serve to contract and depress it. "

Mrs. Lennox shook her head. "Ah! Charles, you may depend upon it yourreasoning is wrong, and you will be convinced of it some day. "

"I am convinced of it already. I begin to fear this discussion willfrighten Miss Douglas away from us. _There_ is an evil anticipated! Now, do you, my dear mother, help me to avert it; where that can be done, itcannot be too soon apprehended. "

As Colonel Lennox's character unfolded itself, Mary saw much to admirein it; and it is more than probable the admiration would soon have beenreciprocal, had it been allowed to take its course. But good Mrs. Lennoxwould force it into a thousand little channels prepared by herself, andlove itself must have been quickly exhausted by the perpetual demandsthat were made upon it. Mary would have been deeply mortified had shesuspected the cause of her friend's solicitude to show her off; but shewas a stranger to match-making in all its bearings, had scarcely everread a novel in her life, and was consequently not at all aware of thenecessity there was for her falling in love with all convenient speed. She was therefore sometimes amused, though oftener ashamed, at Mrs. Lennox's panegyrics, and could not but smile as she thought how AuntJacky's wrath would have been kindled had she heard the extravagantpraises that were bestowed on her most trifling accomplishments. 

"You must sing my favourite song to Charles, my love--he has never heardyou sing. Pray do: you did not use to require any entreaty from me, Mary! Many a time you have gladdened my heart with your songs when, butfor you, it would have been filled with mournful thoughts!"

Mary, finding whatever she did or did _not, _ she was destined to hearonly her own praises, was glad to take refuge at the harp, to which shesang the following ancient ditty:--

 "Sweet day! so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night, For thou must die. 

 "Sweet rose! whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave; And thou must die. 

 "Sweet spring! full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows you have your closes, And all must die. 

 "Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like season'd timber, never gives; But when the whole world turns to coal, Then chiefly lives. "

"That, " said Colonel Lennox, "is one of the any exquisite little piecesof poetry which are to be found, like jewels in an Ethiop's ear, in myfavourite Isaac Walton. The title of the book offers no encouragement tofemale readers, but I know few works from which I rise with suchrenovated feelings of benevolence and good-will. Indeed, I know noauthor who has given with so much _naïveté _so enchanting apicture of a pious and contented mind. Here--" taking the book from ashelf, and turning over the leaves--"is one of the passages which hasso often charmed me:--'That very hour which you were absent from me, Isat down under a willow by the water-side, and considered what you hadtold me of the owner of that pleasant meadow in which you left me--thathe has a plentiful estate, and not a heart to think so; that he has atthis time many lawsuits depending, and that they both damped his mirth, and took up so much of his time and thoughts that he himself had notleisure to take that sweet comfort I, who pretended no title tothem, took in his fields; for I could there sit quietly, and, looking inthe water, see some fishes sport themselves in the silver streams, others leaping at flies of several shapes and colours. Looking on thehills, I could behold them spotted with woods and groves; looking downupon the meadows I could see, here a boy gathering lilies andlady-smocks, and there a girl cropping culverkeys and cowslips, all tomake garlands suitable to this present month of May. These, and manyother field flowers, so perfumed the air, that I thought that verymeadow like that field in Sicily, of which Diodorus speaks, where theperfumes arising from the place make all dogs that hunt in it to falloff and lose their scent. I say, as I thus sat joying in my own happycondition, and pitying this poor rich man that owned this and many otherpleasant groves and meadows about me, I did then thankfully rememberwhat my Saviour said, that the _meek possess the earth--or, _ rather, they enjoy what the others possess and enjoy not; for anglers andmeek-spirited men are free from those high, those restlessthoughts, --which corrode the sweets of life; and they, and they only, can say, as the poet has happily expressed it--

 'Hail, blest estate of lowliness! Happy enjoyments of such minds As, rich in self-contentedness, Can, like the reeds in roughest winds, By yielding, make that blow but small, By which proud oaks and cedars fall. '"

"There is both poetry and painting in such prose as this, " said Mary;"but I should certainly as soon have thought of looking for a pearlnecklace in a fishpond as of finding pretty poetry in a treatise uponthe art of angling. "

"That book was a favourite of your father's, Charles, " said Mrs. Lennox, "and I remember, in our happiest days, he used to read parts of it tome. One passage in particular made a strong impression upon me, though Ilittle thought then it would ever apply to me. It is upon the blessingsof sight. Indulge me by reading it to me once again. "

Colonel Lennox made an effort to conquer his feelings, while he read asfollows:--

"What would a blind man give to see the pleasant rivers, and meadows, and flowers, and fountains, that we have met with! I have been told thatif a man that was born blind could attain to have his sight for _butonly one hour_ during his whole life, and should, at the first openingof his eyes, fix his sight upon the sun when it was in its full glory, either at the rising or the setting, he would be transported and amazed, and so admire the glory of it that he would not willingly turn his eyesfrom that first ravishing object to behold all the other variousbeauties this world could present to them. And this, and many other likeobjects, we enjoy daily---"

A deep sigh from Mrs. Lennox made bier son look up. Her eyes werebathed in tears. 

He threw his arms around her. "My dearest mother!" cried he in a voicechoked with agitation, "how cruel--how unthinking--thus to remindyou--"

"Do not reproach yourself for my weakness, dear Charles; but I wasthinking how much rather, could I have my sight but for one hour, Iwould look upon the face of my own child than on all the glories of thecreation!"

Colonel Lennox was too deeply affected to speak. He pressed his mother'shand to his lips--then rose abruptly, and quitted the room. Marysucceeded in soothing her weak and agitated spirits into composure; butthe chord of feeling had been jarred, and all her efforts to restore itto its former tone proved abortive for the rest of the day. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

 "Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love: Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues; Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent. "

 Much Ado about Nothing. 

THERE was something so refreshing in the domestic peacefulness of RoseHall, when contrasted with the heartless bustle of Beech Park, that Maryfelt too happy in the change to be in any hurry to quit it. But anunfortunate discovery soon turned all her enjoyment into bitterness ofheart; and Rose Hall, from being to her a place of rest, was suddenlytransformed into an abode too hateful to be endured. 

It happened one day as she entered the drawing-room, Mrs. Lennox was, asusual, assailing the heart of her son in her behalf. A large Indianscreen divided the room, and Mary's entrance was neither seen nor heardtill she was close by them. 

"Oh, certainly, Miss Douglas is all that you say--very pretty--veryamiable--and very accomplished, said Colonel Lennox, with a sort ofhalf-suppressed yawn, in answer to a eulogium of his mother's. 

"Then why not love her? Ah! Charles, promise me that you will at leasttry!" said the good old lady, laying her hand upon his with the greatestearnestness. 

This was said when Mary was actually standing before her. To hear thewords, and to feel their application, was a flash of lightning; and fora moment she felt as if her brain were on fire. She was alive but to oneidea, and that the most painful that could be suggested to a delicatemind. She had heard herself recommended to the love of a man who wasindifferent to her. Could there be such a humiliation--such adegradation? Colonel Lennox's embarrassment was scarcely less; but hismother saw not the mischief she had done, and she continued to speakwithout his having the power to interrupt her. But her words fellunheeded on Mary's ear--she could hear nothing but what she had alreadyheard. Colonel Lennox rose and respectfully placed a chair for her, butthe action was unnoticed--she saw only herself a suppliant for his love;and, insensible to everything but her own feelings, she turned andhastily quitted the room without uttering a syllable. To fly from RoseHall, never again to enter it, was her first resolution; yet how was sheto do so without coming to an explanation, worse even than the causeitself: for she had that very morning yielded to the solicitations ofMrs. Lennox, and consented to remain till the following day. 

"Oh!" thought she, as the scalding tears of shame for the first timedropped from her eyes, "what a situation am I placed in! To continueto live under the same roof with the man whom I have heard solicited tolove me; and how mean--how despicable must I appear in his eyes--thusoffered--rejected! How shall I ever be able to convince him that Icare not for his love--that I wished it not--that I would, refuse, scornit to-morrow were it offered to me. Oh! could I but tell him so; but hemust ever remain, stranger to my real sentiments--he might reject--but_I_ cannot disavow! And yet to have him think that I have all this whilebeen laying snares for him--that all this parade of my acquirements wasfor the purpose of gaining his affections! Oh how blind and stupid I wasnot to see through the injudicious praises of Mrs. Lennox! I should notthen have suffered this degradation in the eyes of her son!"

Hours passed away unheeded by Mary, while she was giving way to thewounded sensibility of a naturally high spirit and acute feelings, thusviolently excited in all their first ardour. At length she was recalledto herself by hearing the sound of a carriage, as it passed under herwindow; and immediately after she received a message to repair to thedrawing-room to her cousin, Lady Emily. 

"How fortunate!" thought she; "I shall now get away--no matter how orwhere, I shall go, never again to return. "

And, unconscious of the agitation visible in her countenance, shehastily descended, impatient to bid an eternal adieu to her once lovedRose Hall. She found Lady Emily and Colonel Lennox together. Eyes lesspenetrating than her cousin's would easily have discovered the state ofpoor Mary's mind as she entered the room; her beating heart--her flushedcheek and averted eye, all declared the perturbation of her spirits; andLady Emily regarded her for a moment with an expression of surprise thatserved to heighten her confusion. 

"I have no doubt I am a very unwelcome visitor here to all parties, "said she; "for I come--how shall I declare it?--to carry you home, Mary, by command of Lady Juliana. "

"No, no!" exclaimed Mary eagerly; "you are quite welcome. I am quiteready. I was wishing--I was waiting. " Then, recollecting herself, sheblushed still deeper at her own precipitation. 

"There is no occasion to be so vehemently obedient, " said her cousin;_"I_ am not quite ready, neither am I wishing or waiting to be off insuch a hurry. Colonel Lennox and I had just set about reviving an oldacquaintance; begun, I can't tell when--and broken off when I was a thingin the nursery, with a blue sash and red fingers. I have promised himthat when he comes to Beech Park you shall sing him my favourite Scotchsong, 'Should auld acquaintance be forgot?' I would sing it myself if Icould; but I think every Englishwoman who pretends to sing Scotch songsought to have the bowstring. " Then, turning to the harpsichord, shebegan to play it with exquisite taste and feeling. 

"There, " said she, rising with equal levity; "is not that worth all theformal bows--and 'recollects to have had the pleasure'--and 'long timesince I had the honour'--and such sort of hateful reminiscences, thatmake one feel nothing but that they area great deal older, and uglier, stupider, and more formal than they were so many years before. "

"Where the early ties of the heart remain unbroken, " said ColonelLennox, with some emotion, "such remembrances do indeed give it back allits first freshness; but it cannot be to everyone a pleasure to have itsfeelings awakened even by tones such as these. "

There was nothing of austerity in this; on the contrary, there was somuch sweetness mingled with the melancholy which shaded his countenance, that even Lady Emily was touched, and for a moment silent. The entranceof Mrs. Lennox relieved her from her embarrassment. She flew towardsher, and taking her hand, "My dear Mrs. Lennox, I feel very much as if Iwere come here in the capacity of an executioner;--no, not exactly that, but rather a sort of constable or bailiff;--for I am come, on the partof Lady Juliana Douglas, to summon you to surrender the person of herwell-beloved daughter, to be disposed of as she in her wisdom may thinkfit. "

"Not to-day, surely, " cried Mrs. Lennox, in alarm; "to-morrow----"

"My orders are peremptory--the suit is pressing, " with a significantsmile to Mary; "this day--oh, ye hours!" looking at a timepiece, "thisvery minute. Come Mary--are you ready--_cap-à-pie_?"

At another time Mary would have thought only of the regrets of hervenerable friend at parting with her; but now she felt only her ownimpatience to be gone, and she hastily quitted the room to prepare forher departure. 

On returning to it Colonel Lennox advanced to meet her, evidentlydesirous of saying something, yet labouring under great embarrassment. 

"Were it not too selfish and presumptuous, " said he, while hisheightened colour spoke his confusion, "I would venture to express a hopethat your absence will not be very long from my poor mother. "

Mary pretended to be very busy collecting her work, drawings, etc. , which lay scattered about, and merely bent her head in acknowledgment. Colonel Lennox proceeded--

"I am aware of the sacrifice it must be to such as Miss Douglas todevote her time and talents to the comforting of the blind and desolate;and I cannot express--she cannot conceive--the gratitude--therespect--the admiration, with which my heart is filled at such proofs ofnoble disinterested benevolence on her part. "

Had Mary raised her eyes to those that vainly sought to meet hers, shewould there have read all, and more than had been expressed; but shecould only think, "He has been entreated to love!" and at thathumiliating idea she bent her head still lower to the colour that dyedher cheek to an almost painful degree, while a sense of suffocation ather throat prevented her disclaiming, as she wished to do, the merit ofany sacrifice. Some sketches of Lochmarlie lay upon a table at which shehad been drawing the day before; they had ever been precious in hersight till now; but they only excited feelings of mortification, as sherecollected having taken them from her _portefeuille_ at Mrs. Lennox'srequest to show to her son. 

"This was part of the parade by which I was to win him, " thought shewith bitterness; and scarcely conscious of what she did, she crushedthem together, and threw them into the fire. Then hastily advancing toMrs. Lennox, she tried to bid her farewell; but as she thought it wasfor the last time, tears of tenderness as well as pride stood in hereyes. 

"God bless you, my dear child!" said the unsuspecting Mrs. Lennox, asshe held her: in her arms. "And God _will_ bless you in His way--thoughHis ways are not as our ways. I cannot urge you to return to this drearyabode. But oh, Mary! Think sometimes in your gaiety, that when you docome, you bring gladness to a mournful heart, and lighten eyes thatnever see the sun!"

Mary, too much affected to reply, could only wring the hand of hervenerable friend, as she tore herself from her embrace, and followedLady Emily to the carriage. For some time they proceeded in silence. Mary dreaded to encounter her cousin's eyes, which she was aware werefixed upon her with more than their usual scrutiny. She therefore kepthers steadily employed in surveying the well-known objects the roadpresented. At length her Ladyship began in a grave tone. 

"You appear to have had very stormy weather at Rose Hall?"

"Very much so, " replied Mary, without knowing very well what she said. 

"And we have had nothing but calms and sunshine at Beech Park. Is notthat strange?"

"Very singular indeed. "

"I left the barometer very high--not quite at _settled calm_--that wouldbe too much; but I find it very low indeed--absolutely below nothing. "

Mary now did look up in some surprise; but she hastily withdrew from theintolerable expression of her cousin's eyes. 

"Dear Lady Emily!" cried she in a deprecating tone. 

"Well--what more? You can't suppose I'm to put up with hearing my ownname; I've heard that fifty times to-day already from Lady Juliana'sparrot--come, your face speaks volumes. I read a declaration of love inthe colour of your cheeks--a refusal in the height of your nose--and asort of general agitation in the quiver of your lip and the_déréglement_ of your hair. Now for your pulse--a _leettle_ hasty, asDr. Redgill would say; but let your tongue declare the rest. "

Mary would fain have concealed the cause of her distress from everyhuman being, as she felt as if degraded still lower by repeating it toanother; and she remained silent, struggling with her emotions. 

"'Pon my honour, Mary, you really do use great liberties with mypatience and good-nature. I appeal to yourself whether I might not justas well have been reading one of Tully's orations to a mule all thiswhile. Come, you must really make haste to tell your tale, for I amdying to disclose mine. Or shall I begin? No--that would be invertingthe order of nature or custom, which is the same thing--beginning withthe farce, and ending with the tragedy--so _commencez au commencement, m'amie. "_

Thus urged, Mary at length, and with much hesitation, related to hercousin the humiliation she had experienced. "And after all, " said she, as she ended, "I am afraid I behaved very like a fool. And yet whatcould I do in my situation, what would you have done?"

"Done! why, I should have taken the old woman by the shoulder, and criedBoh! in her ear. And so this is the mighty matter! You happen tooverhear Mrs. Lennox, good old soul! recommending you as a wife to herson. What could be more natural except his refusing to fall head in earsin love before he had time to pull his boots off. And then to have awife recommended to him! and all your perfections set forth, as if youhad been a laundrymaid--an early riser, neat worker, regular attentionupon church! Ugh I--I must say I think his conduct quite meritorious. Icould almost find in my heart to fall in love with him myself, were itfor no other reason than because he is not such a Tommy Goodchild as tobe in love at his mamma's bidding--that is, loving his mother as hedoes--for I see he could cut off a hand, or pluck out an eye, to pleaseher, though he can't or won't give her his heart and soul to dispose ofas she thinks proper. "

"You quite misunderstand me, " said Mary, with increasing vexation. "Idid not mean to say anything against Colonel Lennox. I did not wish--Inever once thought whether he liked me or not. "

"That says very little for you. You must have a very bad taste if youcare more for the mother's liking than the son's. Then what vexes you somuch? Is it at having made the discovery that your good old friend isa--a--I beg your pardon--a bit of a goose? Well, never mind--since youdon't care for the man, there's no mischief done. You have only tochange the _dramatis personae. _ Fancy that you overheard mere commendingyou to Dr. Redgill for your skill in cookery--you'd only have laughed atthat--so why should you weep at t'other. However, one thing I must tellyou, whether it adds to your grief or not, I did remark that CharlesLennox looked very lover-like towards you; and, indeed, this sentimentalpassion he has put you in becomes you excessively. I really never sawyou look so handsome before--it has given an energy and _esprit_ to yourcountenance, which is the only thing it wants. You are very much obligedto him, were it only for having kindled such a fire in your eyes, andraised such a carnation in your cheek. It would have been long beforegood _larmoyante_, Mrs. Lennox would have done as much for you. Ishouldn't wonder were he to fall in love with you after all. "

Lady Emily little thought how near she was the the truth when she talkedin this random way. Colonel Lennox saw the wound he had innocentlyinflicted on Mary's feelings, and a warmer sentiment than any he hadhitherto experienced had sprung up in his heart. Formerly he had merelylooked upon her as an amiable sweet-tempered girl; but when he saw heroused to a sense of her own dignity, and marked the struggle betwixttender affection and offended delicacy he, formed a higher estimate ofher character, and a spark was kindled that wanted but opportunity to blazeinto a flame, pure and bright as the shrine on which it burned. Such isthe waywardness and price of even the best affections of the humanbreast. 

CHAPTER XVIII

 "C'est a moi de _choisir_ mon gendre; Toi, tel qu'il est, c'est à it toi de Ie prendre; De vous aimer, si vous pouvez tous deux, Et d'obéir à tout ce que je veux. " _L'Enfant Prodigue. _

"AND now, " said Lady Emily, "that I have listened to your story, whichafter all is really a very poor affair, do you listen to mine. Theheroine in both is the same, but the hero differs by some degrees. Know, then, as the ladies in novels say, that the day which saw you departfrom Beech Park was the day destined to decide your fate, and dash yourhopes, if ever you had any, of becoming Duchess of Altamont. The Dukearrived, I know, for the express purpose of being enamoured of you; but, alas! you were not. And there was Adelaide so sweet--so gracious--sobeautiful--the poor gull was caught, and is now, I really believe, asmuch in love as it is in the nature of a stupid man to be. I must ownshe has played her part admirably, and has made more use of her timethan I, with all my rapidity, could have thought possible. In fact, theDuke is now all but her declared lover, and that merely stands upon apoint of punctilio. "

"But Lord Lindore!" exclaimed Mary in astonishment. 

"Why, that part of the story is what I _don't_ quite comprehend. Sometimes I think it is a struggle with Adelaide. Lindore, poor, handsome, captivating, on one hand; his Grace, rich, stupid, magnificent, on the other. As for Lindore, he seems to stand quitealoof. Formerly, you know, he never used to stir from her side, or noticeanyone else. Now he scarcely notices her, at least in presence of theDuke, Sometimes he affects to look unhappy, but I believe it is mereaffectation. I doubt if he ever thought seriously of Adelaide, or indeedanybody else, that he could have in a straightforward Ally Croker sortof a way--but something too much of this. While all this has been goingon in one corner, there comes regularly everyday Mr. William DowneWright, looking very much as if he had lost his shoestring, or pockethandkerchief, and had come there to look for it. I had some suspicion ofthe nature of the loss, but was hopeful he would have the sense to keepit to himself. No such thing: he yesterday stumbled upon Lady Julianaall alone, and, in the weakest of his weak moments, informed her thatthe loss he had sustained was no less than the loss of that preciousjewel his heart; and that the object of his search was no other thanthat of Miss Mary Douglas to replace it! He even carried his_bêtise_ so far as to request her permission, or her influence, or, in short, something that her Ladyship never was asked for by anymortal in their senses before, to aid him in his pursuit. You know howit delights her to be dressed in a little brief authority; so you mayconceive her transports at seeing the sceptre of power thus placed inher hands. In the heat of her pride she makes the matter known to thewhole household. Redgills, cooks, stable-boys, scullions, all are quite_au_ _fait_ to your marriage with Mr. Downe Wright; so I hope you'llallow that it was about time _you _should be made acquainted with ityourself. But why so pale and frightened-looking?"

Poor Mary was indeed shocked at her cousin's intelligence. With thehighest feelings of filial reverence, she found herself perpetuallycalled upon either to sacrifice her own principles or to act indirectopposition to her mother's will, and upon this occasion she saw nothingbut endless altercation awaiting her; for her heart revolted from theindelicacy of such measures, and she could not for a moment brook theidea of being _bestowed_ in marriage. But she had little time forreflection. They were now at Beech Park; and as she alighted a servantinformed her Lady Juliana wished to see her in her dressing-roomimmediately. Thither she repaired with a beating heart and agitatedstep. She was received with greater kindness than she had ever yetexperienced from her mother. 

"Come in, my dear, " cried she, as she extended two fingers to her, andslightly touched her cheek. "You look very well this morning--muchbetter than usual. Your complexion is much improved. At the same timeyou must be sensible how few girls are married merely for theirlooks--that is, married well--unless, to be sure, their beauty issomething _à merveilleuse_--such as your sister's, for instance. I assure you, it is an extraordinary piece of good fortune in a merelypretty girl to make what is vulgarly called a good match. I know, atleast, twenty really very nice young women at this moment who cannot getthemselves established. "

Mary was silent; and her mother, delighted at her own good sense andjudicious observations, went on--

"That being the case, you may judge how very comfortable I must feel athaving managed to procure for you a most excessive goodestablishment--just the very thing I have long wished, as I have feltquite at a loss about you of late, my dear. When your sister marries, Ishall, of course, reside with her; and as I consider your _liaison _withthose Scotch people as completely at an end, I have really been quitewretched as to what was to become of you. I can't tell you, therefore, how excessively relieved I was when Mr. Downe Wright yesterday asked mypermission to address you. Of course I could not hesitate an instant; soyou will meet him at dinner as your accepted. By-the-bye, your hair israther blown. I shall send Fanchon to dress it for you. You have reallygot very pretty hair; I wonder never remarked it before. Oh! and Mrs. Downe Wright is to wait upon me to-morrow, I think; and then I believewe must return the visit. There is a sort of etiquette, you know, in allthese matters--that is the most unpleasant part of it; but when that isover you will have nothing to think of but ordering your things. "

For a few minutes Mary was too much confounded by her mother's rapidityto reply. She had expected to be urged to accept of Mr. Downe Wright;but to be told that was actually done for her was more than she wasprepared for. At length she found voice to say that Mr. Downe Wright wasalmost a stranger to her, and she must therefore be excused fromreceiving his addresses at present. 

"How excessively childish!" exclaimed Lady Juliana angrily. "I won'thear of anything so perfectly foolish. You know (or, at any rate, I do)all that is necessary to know. I know that he is a man of family andfortune, heir to a title, uncommonly handsome, and remarkably sensibleand well-informed. I can't conceive what more you would wish to know!"

"I would wish to know something of his character, his principles, hishabits, temper, talents--in short, all those things on which myhappiness would depend. "

"Character and principles!--one would suppose you were talking of yourfootman! Mr. Downe Wright's character is perfectly good. I never heardanything against it. As to what you call his principles, I must professmy ignorance. I really can't tell whether he is a Methodist; but 1 knowhe is a gentleman--has a large fortune--is very good-looking--and is notat all dissipated, I believe. In short, you are most excessivelyfortunate in meeting with such a man. "

"But I have not the slightest partiality for him, " said Mary, colouring. "It cannot be expected that I should, when I have not beenhalf a dozen time in his company. I must be allowed some time before Ican consent even to consider--"

"I don't mean that you are to marry to-morrow. It may probably be sixweeks or two months before everything can be arranged. "

Mary saw she must speak boldly. 

"But I must be allowed much longer time before I can consider myself assufficiently acquainted with Mr. Downe Wright to think of him at all inthat light. And even then--he may be very amiable, and yet"--hesitating--"I may not be able to love him as I ought. "

"Love!" exclaimed Lady Juliana, her eyes sparkling with anger; "Idesire I may never hear that word again from any daughter of mine. I amdetermined I shall have no disgraceful love-marriages in the family. Nowell-educated young woman ever thinks of such a thing now, and I won'thear a syllable on the subject. "

"I shall never marry anybody, I am sure, that you disapprove of, " saidMary timidly. 

"No; I shall take care of that. I consider it the duty of parents toestablish their children properly in the world, without any regard totheir ideas on the subject. I think I must be rather a better judge ofthe matter than you can possibly be, and I shall therefore make a pointof your forming what I consider a proper alliance. Your sister, I know, won't hesitate to sacrifice her own affections to please me. She wasmost excessively attached to Lord Lindore--everybody knew that; but sheis convinced of the propriety of preferring the Duke of Altamont, andwon't hesitate in sacrificing her own feelings to mine. But indeed shehas ever been all that I could wish--so perfectly beautiful, and, at thesame time, so excessively affectionate and obedient. She approvesentirely of your marriage with Mr. Downe Wright, as, indeed, all yourfriends do. I don't include _your_ friend Lady Emily in that number. Ilook upon her as a most improper companion for you; and the sooner youare separated from her the better. So now good-bye for the present. Youhave only to behave as other young ladies do upon those occasions, which, by-the-bye, is generally to give as much trouble to their friendsas they possibly can. "

There are some people who, furious themselves at opposition, cannotunderstand the possibility of others being equally firm and decided in agentle manner. Lady Juliana was one of those who always expect to carrytheir point by a raised voice and sparkling eyes; and it was withdifficulty Mary, with her timid air and gentle accents, could convinceher that she was determined to judge for herself in a matter in whichher happiness was so deeply involved. When at last brought to comprehendit, her Ladyship's indignation knew no bounds; and Mary was accused inthe same breath with having formed some low connection in Scotland, andof seeking to supplant her sister by aspiring to the Duke of Altamont. And at length the conference ended pretty much where it began--LadyJuliana resolved that her daughter should marry to please her, and herdaughter equally resolved not to be driven into an engagement from whichher heart recoiled. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

 "Qu'on vante en lui la foi, l'honneur, la probité; Qu'on prise sa candeur et sa civilité; Qu'il soit doux, complaisant, oflicieux, sincere: On Ie veut, j'y souscris, et suis prêt à me taire. "

 BOILEAU. 

WHEN Mary entered the drawing-room she found herself, without knowinghow, by the side of Mr. Downe Wright. At dinner it was the same; and inshort it seemed an understood thing that they were to be constantlytogether. 

There was something so gentle and unassuming in his manner that, almostprovoked as she was by the folly of his proceedings, she found itimpossible to resent it by her behaviour towards him; and indeed, without being guilty of actual rudeness, of which she was incapable, itwould not have been easy to have made him comprehend the nature of hersentiments. He appeared perfectly satisfied with the toleration he metwith; and, compared to Adelaide's disdainful glances, and Lady Emily'sbiting sarcasms, Mary's gentleness and civility might well be mistakenfor encouragement. But even under the exhilarating influence of hope andhigh spirits his conversation was so insipid and commonplace, that Maryfound it a relief to turn even to Dr. Redgill. It was evident the Doctorwas aware of what was going on, for he regarded her with that increasedrespect due to the future mistress of a splendid establishment. Betweenthe courses he made some complimentary allusions to Highland mutton andred deer; and he even carried his attentions so far as to whisper, atthe very first mouthful, that _les côtellettes de saumon_ weresuperb, when he had never been known to commend anything to anotheruntil he had fully discussed it himself. On the opposite side of thetable sat Adelaide and the Duke of Altamont, the latter looking stillmore heavy and inanimate than ever. The operation of eating over, heseemed unable to keep himself awake, and every now and then yielded to agentle slumber, from which, however, he was instantly recalled at thesound of Adelaide's voice, when he exclaimed, "Ah! Charming--verycharming, ah!"--Lady Emily looked _from_ them as she hummed some partof Dryden's Ode--

 "Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate, etc. The lovely Thais by his side, Look'd like a blooming Eastern bride. "

Then, as his Grace closed his eyes, and his head sank on his shoulder--

 "With ravish'd ears The monarch hears, Assumes the god, Affects to nod. "

Lady Juliana, who would have been highly incensed had she suspected theapplication of the words, was so unconscious of it as to joinoccasionally in singing them, to Mary's great confusion and Adelaide'smanifest displeasure. 

When they returned to the drawing-room, "Heavens! Adelaide, " exclaimedher cousin, in an affected manner, "what are you made of? Semelé herselfwas but a mere cinder-wench to you! How can you stand such aJupiter--and not scorched! not even singed, I protest!" pretending toexamine her all over. "I vow I trembled at your temerity--yourfamiliarity with the imperial nod was fearful. I every instant expectedto see you turned into a live coal. "

"I did burn, " said Adelaide, "with shame, to see the mistress of a houseforget what was due to her father's guests. "

"There's a slap on the cheek for me! Mercy! how it burns! No, I did notforget what was due to my father's guests; on the contrary, I considerit due to them to save them, if I can, from the snares that I see setfor them. I have told you that I abhor all traps, whether for the poorsimple mouse that comes to steal its bit of cheese, or for the dullelderly gentleman who falls asleep with a star on his breast. "

"This is one of the many kind and polite allusions for which I amindebted to your Ladyship, " said Adelaide haughtily; "but I trust theday will come when I shall be able to discharge what I owe you. "

And she quitted the room, followed by Lady Juliana, who could only makeout that Lady Emily had been insolent, and that Adelaide was offended. Apause followed. 

"I see you think I am in the wrong, Mary; I can read that in the littlereproachful glance you gave me just now. Well, perhaps I am; but I ownit chafes my spirit to sit and look on such a scene of iniquity. Yes, iniquity I call it, for a woman to be in love with one man, and at thesame time laying snares for another. You may think, perhaps, thatAdelaide has no heart to love anything; but she has a heart, such as itis, though it is much too fine for every-day use, and therefore it iskept locked up in marble casket, quite out of reach of you or I. But I'mmistaken if Frederick has not made himself master of it! Not that Ishould blame her for that, if she would be honestly and downrightly inlove with him. But how despicable to see her, with her affections placedupon one man, at the same time lavishing all her attentions onanother--and that other, if he had been plain John Altamont, Esq. , shewould not have been commonly civil to! And, _àpropos_ ofcivility--I must tell you, if you mean to refuse your hero, you were toocivil by half to him. I observed you at dinner, you sat perfectlystraight, and answered everything he said to you. "

"What could I do?" asked Mary, in some surprise. 

"I'll tell you what I would have done, and have thought the mosthonourable mode of proceeding; I should have turned my back upon him, and have merely thrown him a monosyllable now and then over myshoulder. "

"I could not be less than civil to him, and I am sure I was not more. "

"Civility is too much for a man one means to refuse. You'll never getrid of a stupid man by civility. Whenever I had any reason to apprehenda lover, I thought it my duty to turn short upon him and give him asnarl at the outset, which rid me of him at once. But I really begin tothink I manage these matters better than anybody else--'Where I love, Iprofess it: where I hate, in every circumstance I dare proclaim it. '"

Mary tried to defend her sister, in the first place; but though hercharity would not allow her to censure, her conscience whispered therewas much to condemn; and she was relieved from what she felt a difficulttask when the gentlemen began to drop in. 

In spite of all her manoeuvres Mr. Downe Wright contrived to be nexther, and whenever she changed her seat, she was sure of his followingher. She had also the mortification of overhearing Lady Juliana tell theDuke that Mr. Downe Wright was the accepted lover of her youngestdaughter, that he was a man of large fortune, and heir to his uncle, Lord Glenallan!

"Ah! a nephew of my Lord Glenallan's!--Indeed--a pretty young man--likethe family!--Poor Lord Glenallan! I knew him very well. He has had thepalsy since then, poor man--ah!"

The following day Mary was compelled to receive Mrs. Downe Wright'svisit; but she as scarcely conscious of what passed, for Colonel Lennoxarrived at the same time; and it was equally evident that his visit wasalso intended for her. She felt that she ought to appear unconcerned inhis presence, and he tried to be so; but still the painful idea wouldrecur that he had been solicited to love her, and, unskilled in the arts ofeven innocent deception, she could only try to hide the agitation underthe coldness of her manner. 

"Come, Mary, " cried Lady Emily, as if in answer to something ColonelLennox had addressed to her in a low voice, "do you remember the promiseI made Colonel Lennox, and which it rests with you to perform?"

"I never consider myself bound to perform the promises of others, "replied Mary gravely. 

"In some cases that may be a prudent resolution, but in the present itis surely an unfriendly one, " said Colonel Lennox. 

"A most inhuman one!" cried Lady Emily, "since you and I, it seems, cannot commence our friendship without something sentimental to set usagoing. It rests with you, Mary, to be the founder of our friendship;and if you manage the matter well, that is, sing in your best manner, weshall perhap, make it a triple alliance, and admit you as third. "

"As every man is said to be the artificer of his own fortune, so everyone, I think, had best be the artificer of their own friendship, " saidMary, trying to smile, as she pulled her embroidery frame towards her, and began to work. 

"Neither can be the worse of a good friend to help them on, " observedMrs. Downe Wright. 

"But both may be materially injured by an injudicious one, " said ColonelLennox; "and although, on this occasion, I am the greatest sufferer byit, I must acknowledge the truth of Miss Douglas's observation. Friendship and love, I believe, will always be found to thrive best whenleft to themselves. "

"And so ends my novel, elegant, and original plan for striking up asudden friendship, " cried Lady Emily. "Pray, Mr. Downe Wright, can yousuggest anything better for the purpose than an old song?"

Mr. Downe Wright, who was not at all given to suggesting, looked alittle embarrassed. 

"Pull the bell, William, for the carriage, " said his mother; "we mustnow be moving. " And with a general obeisance to the company, and asignificant pressure of the hand to Mary, she withdrew her son from hisdilemma. Although a shrewd, penetrating woman, she did not possess thattact and delicacy necessary to comprehend the finer feelings of a mindsuperior to her own; and in Mary's averted looks and constrained mannershe saw nothing but what she thought quite proper and natural in hersituation. "As for Lady Emily, " she observed, "there would be news ofher and that fine dashing-looking Colonel yet, and Miss Adelaide wouldperhaps come down a pin before long. "

Soon after Colonel Lennox took his leave, in spite of Lady Emily'spressing invitation for him to spend the day there, and meet herbrother, who had been absent for some days, but was now expected home. He promised to return again soon, and departed. 

"How prodigiously handsome Colonel Lennox looked to-day, " said she, addressing Mary; "and how perfectly unconscious, at least indifferent, he seems about it. It is quite refreshing to see a handsome man that isneither a fool nor a coxcomb. "

"Handsome! no, I don't think he is very handsome, " said Lady Juliana. "Rather dark, don't you think, my love?" turning to Adelaide, who satapart at a table writing, and had scarcely deigned to lift her head allthe time. 

"Who do you mean? The man who has just gone out? Is his name Lennox?Yes, he is rather handsome. "

"I believe. You are right; he certainly is good-looking, but in apeculiar style. I don't quite like the expression of his eye, and hewants that air _distingué, _ which, indeed, belongs exclusively topersons of birth. "

"He has perfectly the air of a man of fashion, " said Adelaide, in adecided tone, as if ashamed to agree with her mother. "Perhaps _un peumilitaire, _ but nothing at all professional. "

"Lennox!--it is a Scotch name, " observed Lady Juliana contemptuously. 

"And, to cut the matter short, " said Lady Emily, as she was quitting theroom, "the man who has just gone out is Colonel Lennox, and not the Dukeof AItamont. "

After a few more awkward, indefinite sort of visits, in which Mary foundit impossible to come to an explanation, she was relieved for thepresent from the assiduities of her lover. Lady Juliana received anote from Mrs. Downe Wright, apologising for what she termed her son'sunfortunate absence at such a critical time; but he had received accountsof the alarming illness of his uncle Lord Glenallan, and had, inconsequence, set off instantly for Scotland, where she was preparing tofollow; concluding with particular regards to Miss Mary--hopes of beingsoon able to resume their pleasant footing in the family, etc. Etc. 

"How excessively well arranged it will be that old man's dying at thistime!" said her Ladyship, as she tossed the note to her daughter; "LordGlenallan will sound so much better than Mr. Downe Wright. The name Ihave always considered as the only objectionable part. You are reallymost prodigiously fortunate. "

Mary was now aware of the folly of talking reason to her mother, andremained silent; thankful for the present peace this event would ensureher, and almost tempted to wish that Lord Glenallan's doom might notspeedily be decided. 

CHAPTER XX. 

 "It seems it is as proper to our age To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions, As it is common for the younger sort To lack discretion. "

 _Hamlet. _

LORD LINDORE and Colonel Lennox has been boyish acquaintances, and asort of superficial, intimacy was soon established between them, whichserved as the ostensible cause of his frequent visits at Beech Park. Butto Mary, who was more alive to the difference of their characters andsentiments than any other member of the family, this appeared veryimprobable, and she could not help suspecting that love for the sister, rather than friendship for the brother, was the real motive by which hewas actuated. In half jesting manner she mentioned her suspicions toLady Emily, who treated the idea with her usual ridicule. 

"I really could not have supposed you so extremely missy-ish, Mary, " saidshe, "as to imagine that because two people like each other's society, and talk and laugh together a little more than usual, that the mustneeds be in love! I believe Charles Lennox loves me much the same as hedid eleven years ago, when I was a little wretch that used to pull hishair and spoil his watch. And as for me, you know that I consider myselfquite as an old woman--at least as a married one; and he is perfectly_au fait_ to my engagement with Edward. I have even shown him hispicture and some of his letters. "

Mary looked incredulous. 

"You may think as you please, but I tell you it is so. In my situationI should scorn to have Colonel Lennox, or anybody else, in love with me. As to his liking to talk to me, pray who else can he talk to? Adelaidewould sometimes _condescend_ indeed; but he won't be condescended to, that's clear, not even by a Duchess. With what mock humility he meetsher airs! how I adore him for it! Then you are such a pillar of ice!--soshy and unsociable when he is present!--and, by-the-bye, if I did notdespise recrimination as the _pis aller_ of all conscious Misses, I wouldsay you are much more the object of his _attention, _ at least, than Iam. Several times I have caught him looking very earnestly at you, when, by the laws of good breeding, his eyes ought to have been fixedexclusively upon me; and--"

"Pshaw!" interrupted Mary, colouring, "that is mere absence--nothing tothe purpose--or perhaps, " forcing a smile, "he may be _trying_ to loveme!"

Mary thought of her poor old friend, as she said this, with bitternessof heart. It was long since she had seen her; and when she had lastinquired for her, her son had said he did not think her well, with a lookMary could not misunderstand. She had heard him make an appointment withLord Lindore for the following day, and she took the opportunity of hiscertain absence to visit his mother. Mrs. Lennox, indeed, looked ill, andseemed more than usually depressed. She welcomed Mary with her usualtenderness, but even her presence seemed to fail of inspiring her withgladness. 

Mary found she was totally unsuspicious of the cause of herestrangement, and imputed it to a very different one. 

"You have been a great stranger, my dear!" said she, as sheaffectionately embraced her; "but at such a time I could not expect youto think of me. "

"Indeed, " answered Mary, equally unconscious of her meaning, "I havethought much and often, very often, upon you, and wished I could havecome to you; but---" she stopped, for she could not tell the truth, andwould not utter a falsehood. 

"I understand it all, " said Mrs. Lennox, with a sigh. "Well--well--God'swill be done!" Then trying to be more cheerful, "Had you come littlesooner, you would have met Charles. He is just gone out with LordLindore. He was unwilling to leave me, as he always is, and when hedoes, I believe it is as much to please me as himself. Ah! Mary, I oncehoped that I might have lived to see you the happy wife of the best ofsons. I may speak out now, since that is all over. God has willedotherwise, an may you be rewarded in the choice you have made!"

Mary was struck with consternation to find that her supposed engagementwith Mr. Downe Wright had spread even to Rose Hall; and in the greatestconfusion she attempted to deny it. But after the acknowledgment she hadjust heard, she acquitted herself awkwardly; for she felt as if an openexplanation would only serve to revive hopes that never could berealised, and subject Colonel Lennox and herself to future perplexities. Nothing but the whole truth would have sufficed to undeceive Mrs. Lennox, for she had had the intelligence of Mary's engagement from Mrs. DowneWright herself, who, for better security of what she already consideredher son's property, had taken care to spread the report of his being theaccepted lover before she left the country. Mary felt all theunpleasantness of her situation. Although detesting deceit and artificeof every kind, her confused and stammering denials seemed rather tocorroborate the fact; but she felt that she could not declare herresolution of never bestowing her hand upon Mr. Downe Wright withoutseeming at the same time to court the addresss of Colonel Lennox. Thenhow painful--how unjust to herself, as well as cruel to him, to have itfor an instant believed that she was the betrothed of one whose wife shewas resolved she never would be!

In short, poor Mary's mind was a complete chaos; and for the first timein her life she found it impossible to determine which was the rightcourse for her to pursue. Even in the midst of her distress, however, she could not help smiling at the _naïvete_ of the good old lady'sremarks. 

"He is a handsome young man, I hear, " said she, still in allusion to Mr. Downe Wright: "has a fine fortune, and an easy temper. All these thingshelp people's happiness, though they cannot make it; and his choice ofyou, my dear Mary, shows that he has some sense. "

"What a eulogium!" said Mary, laughing and blushing. "Were he really tome what you suppose, I must be highly flattered; but I must again assureyou it is not using Mr. Downe Wright well to talk of him as anything tome. My mother, indeed--". 

"Ah! Mary, my dear, let me advise you to beware of being led, even by amother, in such a matter as this. God forbid that I should everrecommend disobedience towards a parent's will; but I fear you haveyielded too much to yours. I said, indeed, when I heard it, that Ifeared undue influence had been used; for that I could not think WilliamDowne Wright would ever have been the choice of your heart. Surelyparents have much to answer for who mislead their children in such anawful step as marriage!"

This was the severest censure Mary had ever heard drop from Mrs. Lennox's lips; and she could not but marvel at the self-delusion thatled her thus to condemn in another the very error she had committedherself, but under such different circumstances that she would noteasily have admitted it to be the same. She sought for the happiness ofher son, while Lady Juliana, she was convinced, wished only her ownaggrandisement. 

"Yes, indeed, " said Mary, in answer to her friend's observation, "parents ought, if possible, to avoid even forming wishes for theirchildren. Hearts are wayward things, even the best of them. " Then moreseriously she added, "And, dear Mrs. Lennox, do not either blame mymother nor pity me; for be assured, with my heart only will I give myhand; or rather, I should say, with my hand only will I give my heart:And now good-bye, " cried she, starting up and hurrying away, as sheheard Colonel Lennox's voice in the hall. 

She met him on the stair, and would have passed on with a slight remark, but he turned with her, and finding she had dismissed the carriage, intending to walk home, he requested permission to attend her. Marydeclined; but snatching up his hat, and whistling his dogs, he set outwith her in spite of her remonstrances to the contrary. 

"If you persist in refusing my attendance, " said he, "you will inflict anincurable wound upon my vanity. I shall suspect you are ashamed of beingseen in such company. To be sure, myself, with my shabby jacket and myspattered dogs, do form rather a ruffian-like escort; and I should nothave dared to have offered my services to a fine lady; but you are not afine lady, I know;" and he gently drew her arm within his as they beganto ascend a hill. 

This was the first time Mary had found herself alone with ColonelLennox since that fatal day which seemed to have divided them for ever. At first she felt uneasy and embarrassed, but there was so much goodsense and good feeling in the tone of his conversation--it was so farremoved either from pedantry or frivolity, that all disagreeable ideassoon gave way to the pleasure she had in conversing with one whose turnof mind seemed so similar to her own; and it was not till she had partedfrom him at the gate of Beech Park she had time to wonder how she couldpossibly have walked two miles _tete-à-tete_ with a man whom shehad heard solicited to love her!

From that day Colonel Lennox's visits insensibly increased in lengthand number; but Lady Emily seemed to appropriate them entirely toherself; and certainly all the flow of his conversation, the brilliancyof his wit, were directed to her; but Mary could not but be consciousthat his looks were much oftener riveted on herself, and if hisattentions were not such as to attract general observation, they weresuch as she could not fail of perceiving and being unconsciouslygratified by. 

"How I admire Charles Lennox's manner to you, Mary, " said her cousin, "after the awkward dilemma you were both in. It was no easy matter toknow how to proceed; a vulgar-minded man would either have oppressed youwith his attentions, or insulted you by his neglect, while he steers sogracefully free from either extreme; and I observe you are the onlywoman upon whom he designs to bestow _les petits soins. _ How I despise aman who is ever on the watch to pick up every silly Miss's fan or glovethat she thinks it pretty to drop! No--the woman he loves, whether hismother or his wife, will always be distinguished by him, were sheamongst queens and empresses, not by his silly vanity or vulgarfondness, but by his marked and gentlemanlike attentions towards her. In short, the best thing you can do is to make up your quarrel withhim--take him for all in all--you won't meet with such another--certainly not amongst your Highland lairds, by all that I can learn;and, by-the-bye, I do suspect he is now, as you say, trying to love you;and let him--you will be very well repaid if he succeeds. "

Mary's heart swelled at the thoughts of submitting to such an indignity, especially as she was beginning to feel conscious that Colonel Lennoxwas not quite the object of indifference to her that he ought to be; buther cousin's remarks only served to render her more distant and reservedto him than ever. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

 "What dangers ought'st thou not to dread, When Love, that's blind, is by blind Fortune, led?"

 COWLEY. 

AT length the long-looked for day arrived. The Duke of Altamont'sproposals were made in due form, and in due form accepted. Lady Julianaseemed now touching the pinnacle of earthly joy; for, next to beinggreatly married herself, her happiness centred in seeing her daughter atthe head of a splendid establishment. Again visions of bliss hoveredaround her, and "Peers and Dukes and all their sweeping train" swambefore her eyes, as she anticipated the brilliant results to herselffrom so noble an alliance; for self was still, as it had ever been, herruling star, and her affection for her daughter was the mere result ofvanity and ambition. 

The ensuing weeks were passed in all the bustle of preparationsnecessarily attendant on the nuptials of the great. Every morningbrought from Town dresses, jewels, patterns, and packages of alldescriptions. Lady Juliana was in ecstasies, even though it was buthappiness in the second person. Mary watched her sister's looks with themost painful solicitude; for from her lips she knew she never wouldlearn the sentiments of her heart. But Adelaide was aware she had a partto act, and she went through it with an ease and self-possession thatseemed to defy all scrutiny. Once or twice, indeed, her deepening colourand darkening brow betrayed the feelings of her heart, as the Duke ofAltamont and Lord Lindore were brought into comparison; and Maryshuddered to think that her sister was even now ashamed of the man whomshe was so soon to vow to love, honour, and obey. She had vainly triedto lead Adelaide to the subject. Adelaide would listen to nothing whichshe had reason to suppose was addressed to herself; but either with coolcontempt took up a book, or left the room, or, with insolentaffectation, would put her hands to her head, exclaiming, _"Mes oreillesn'etoient pas faites pour les entretiens sérieux. "_ All Mary's worstfears were confirmed a few days before that fixed for the marriage. Asshe entered the music-room she was startled to find Lord Lindore andAdelaide alone. Unwilling to suppose that her presence would beconsidered as an interruption, she seated herself at a little distancefrom them, and was soon engrossed by her task. Adelaide, too, had theair of being deeply intent upon some trifling employment; and LordLindore, as he sat opposite to her, with his head resting upon hishands, had the appearance of being engaged in reading. All were silentfor some time; but as Mary happened to look up, she saw LordLindore'seyes fixed earnestly upon her sister, and with _voice_ ofrepressed feeling he repeated, _"Ah! je le sens, ma Julie! si'l falloitrenoncer a vous, il n'y auroit plus pour moi d'autre sejour ni d'autresaison:"_ and throwing down the book, he quitted the room. Adelaide paleand agitated, rose as if to follow him; then, recollecting herself, sherushed from the apartment by an opposite door. Mary followed, vainlyhoping that in this moment of excited feeling she might be induced toopen her heart to the voice of affection; but Adelaide was a stranger tosympathy, and saw only the degradation of confessing the struggle sheendured in choosing betwixt love and ambition. That her heart was LordLindore's she could not conceal from herself, though she would notconfess it to another--and that other the tenderest of sisters, whoseonly wish was to serve her. Mary's tears and entreaties were thereforein vain, and at Adelaide's repeated desire she at length quitted her andreturned to the room she had left. 

She found Lady Emily there with a paper in her hand. "Lend me your ears, Mary, " cried she, "while I read these lines to you. Don't be afraid, there are no secrets in them, or at least none that you or I will be awhit the wiser for, as they are truly in a most mystic strain. I foundthem lying upon this table, and they are in Frederick's handwriting, forI see he affects the _soupirant_ at present; and it seems there has beena sort of a sentimental farce acted between Adelaide and him. Hepretends that, although distractedly in love with her, he is not soselfish as even to wish her to marry him in preference to the Duke ofAltamont; and Adelaide, not to be outdone in heroics, has also made itout that it is the height of virtue in her to espouse the Duke ofAltamont, and sacrifice all the tenderest affections of her heart toduty! Duty! yes, the duty of being a Duchess, and of living in state andsplendour with the man she secretly despises, to the pleasure ofrenouncing both for the man she loves; and so they have parted, andhere, I suppose, are Lindore's lucubrations upon it, intended as a_souvenir_ for Adelaide, I presume. Now, night visions befriend me!

 "The time returns when o'er my wilder'd mind, A thraldom came which did each sense enshroud; Not that I bowed in willing chain confined, But that a soften'd atmosphere of cloud Veiled every sense--conceal'd th' impending doom. 'Twas mystic night, and I seem'd borne along By pleasing dread--and in a doubtful gloom, Where fragrant incense and the sound of song, And all fair things we dream of, floated by, Lulling my fancy like a cradled child, Till that the dear and guileless treachery, Made me the wretch I am--so lost, so wild-- A mingled feeling, neither joy or grief, Dwelt in my heart--I knew not whence it came, And--but that woe is me! 'twas passing brief, Even at this hour I fain would feel the same! I track'd a path of flowers--but flowers among Were hissing serpents and drear birds of night, That shot across and scared with boding cries; And yet deep interest lurked in that affright, Something endearing in those mysteries, Which bade me still the desperate joy pursue, Heedless of what might come--when from mine eyes The cloud should pass, or what might then accrue. The cloud _has_ passed--the blissful power is flown, The flowers are wither'd--wither'd all the scene. But ah! the dear delusions I have known Are present still, with loved though altered mien: I tread the selfsame path in heart unchanged; But changed now is all that path to me, For where 'mong flowers and fountains once I ranged Are barren rocks and savage scenery!"

Mary felt it was in vain to attempt to win her sister's confidence, andshe was too delicate to seek to wrest her secrets from her; shetherefore took no notice of this effusion of love and disappointment, which she concluded it to be. 

Adelaide appeared at dinner as usual. All traces of agitation hadvanished; and her manner was a cool and collected as if all had beenpeace and tranquillity at heart. Lord Lindore's departure was slightlynoticed. It was generally understood that he had been rejected by hiscousin; and his absence at such a time was thought perfectly natural;the Duke merely remarking, with a vacant simper, "So Lord Lindore isgone--Ah! poor Lord Lindore. "

Lady Juliana had, in a very early stage of the business, fixed in herown mind that she, as a matter of course, would be invited to accompanyher daughter upon her marriage; indeed, she had always looked upon it asa sort of triple alliance, that was to unite her as indissolubly to thefortunes of the Duke of Altamont as though she had been his wedded wife. But the time drew near, and in spite of all her hints and manoeuvres noinvitation had yet been extorted from Adelaide. The Duke had proposed toher to invite her sister, and even expressed something like a wish tothat effect; for though he felt no positive pleasure in Mary's society, he was yet conscious of a void in her absence. She was always in goodhumour--always gentle and polite--and, without being able to tell why, his Grace always felt more at ease with her than with anybody else. Buthis selfish bride seemed to think that the joys of her elevation wouldbe diminished if shared even by her own sister, and she coldly rejectedthe proposal. Lady Juliana was next suggested--for the Duke had a sort ofvague understanding that his safety lay in a multitude. With him, aswith all stupid people, company was society, words wereconversation--and all the gradations of intellect, from Sir Isaac Newtondown to Dr. Redgill, were to him unknown. But although, as with mostweak people, obstinacy was his _forte, _ he was here again compelled toyield to the will of his bride, as she also declined the company of hermother for the present. The disappointment was somewhat softened to LadyJuliana by the sort of indefinite hopes that were expressed by herdaughter of seeing her in town when they were fairly established; butuntil she had seen Altamont House, and knew its accommodations, shecould fix nothing; and Lady Juliana was fain to solace herself with thisdim perspective, instead of the brilliant reality her imagination hadplaced within her grasp. She felt, too, without comprehending, theimperfectness of all earthly felicity. As she witnessed the magnificentpreparations for her daughter's marriage, it recalled the bitterremembrance of her own--and many a sigh burst from her heart as hethought, "Such as Adelaide is, I might have been had I been blest withsuch a mother, and brought up to know what was for my good!"

The die was cast. Amidst pomp and magnificence, elate with pride, andsparkling with jewels, Adelaide Douglas reversed the fate of her mother;and while her affections were bestowed on another, she vowed, in theface of heaven, to belong only to the Duke of Altamont!

"Good-bye, my dearest love!" said her mother, as she embraced her withtransport, "and I shall be with you very soon; and, above all things, try to secure a good opera-box for the season. I assure you it is of thegreatest consequence. "

The Duchess impatiently hurried from the congratulations of her family, and throwing herself into the splendid equipage that awaited her wassoon lost to their view. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

 "Every white will have its black, And every sweet its sour:"

As Lady Juliana experienced. Her daughter was Duchess of Altamont, butGrizzy Douglas had arrived in Bath! The intelligence was communicated toMary in a letter. It had no date, but was as follows:--

My DEAR MARY--You will See from the Date of this, that we are at lastArrived here, after a very long journey, which, you of Course Know it isfrom this to our Part of the country; at the same Time, it wasuncommonly Pleasant, and we all enjoyed it very Much, only poor SirSampson was so ill that we Expected him to Expire every minute, whichwould have made it Extremely unpleasant for dear Lady M'Laughlan. He isnow, I am Happy to say, greatly Better, though still so Poorly that I ammuch afraid you will see a very Considerable change upon him. Isincerely hope, my dear Mary, that you will make a proper Apology toLady Juliana for my not going to Beech Park (where I know I would bemade most Welcome) directly--but I am Certain she will Agree with methat it would be Highly Improper in me to leave Lady M'Laughlan when sheis not at all Sure how long Sir Sampson may Live; and it would Appearvery Odd if I was to be out of the way at such a time as That. But youmay Assure her, with my Kind love, and indeed all our Loves (as I amsure None of us can ever forget the Pleasant time she spent with us atGlenfern in my Poor brother's lifetime, before you was Born), that Iwill Take the very first Opportunity of Spending some time at Beech Parkbefore leaving Bath, as we Expect the Waters will set Sir Sampson quiteon his Feet again. It will be a happy Meeting, I am certain, with LadyJuliana and all of us, as it is Eighteen years this spring since we haveMet. You may be sure I have a great Deal to tell you and Lady Julianatoo, about all Friends at Glenfern, whom I left all quite Well. Of course, the Report of Bella's and Betsy's marriages Must have reached Bath bythis time, as it will be three Weeks to-day since we left our part ofthe country; but in case it has not reached you, Lady M'Laughlan is ofopinion that the Sooner you are made Acquainted with it the Better, especially as there is no doubt of it. Bella's marriage, which is in amanner fixed by this time, I daresay, though of Course it will not takeplace for some time, is to Capt. M'Nab of some Regiment, but I'm sure IForget which, for there are so many Regiments, you know, it isImpossible to remember them All; but he is quite a Hero, I know that, ashe has been in Several battles, and had Two of his front teeth KnockedOut at one of them, and was Much complimented about it; and he Says, heis quite Certain of getting Great promotion--at any Rate a pension forit, so there is no Fear of him. 

"Betsy has, if Possible, been still More fortunate than her Sister, although you know Bella was always reckoned the Beauty of the Family, though some people certainly preferred Betsy's Looks too. She has made aComplete conquest of Major M'Tavish, of the Militia, who, Independent ofhis rank, which is certainly very High, has also distinguished himselfvery Much, and showed the Greatest bravery once when there was a Veryserious Riot about the raising the Potatoes a penny a peck, when therewas no Occasion for it, in the town of Dunoon; and it was very muchtalked of at the Time, as well as Being in all the Newspapers. Thisgives us all the Greatest Pleasure, as I am certain it will also Do LadyJuliana and you, my dear Mary. At the same time, we Feel very much forpoor Babby, and Beenie, and Becky, as they Naturally, and indeed all ofus, Expected they would, of Course, be married first; and it iscertainly a great Trial for them to See their younger sisters marriedbefore them. At the same Time, they are Wonderfully supported, andBehave with Astonishing firmness; and I Trust, my dear Mary, you will dothe Same, as I have no Doubt you will All be married yet, as I am sureyou Richly deserve it when it Comes. I hope I will see you Very soon, asLady M'Laughlan, I am certain, will Make you most Welcome to call. Weare living in Most elegant Lodgings--all the Furniture is quite New, andperfectly Good. I do not know the Name of the street yet, as LadyM'Laughlan, which is no wonder, is not fond of being Asked questionswhen she is Upon a Journey; and, indeed, makes a Point of neverAnswering any, which, I daresay, is the Best way. But, of Course, anybody will Tell you where Sir Sampson Maclaughlan, Baronet, ofLochmarliie Castle, Perthshire, N. B. , lives; and, if You are at anyLoss, it has a Green door, and a most Elegant Balcony. I must now bidyou adieu, my dear. Mary, as I Am so soon to See yourself. Sir Sampsonand Lady M'Laughlan unite with Me in Best compliments to the Family atBeech Park. And, in kind love to Lady Juliana and you, I remain, My dearMary, your most affectionate Aunt, GRIZZEL DOUGLAS. 

_"P. S. _--I have a long letter for you from Mrs. Douglas, which is in myTrunk, that is Coming by the Perth Carrier, and unless he is stopped bythe Snow, I Expect he will be here in ten days. "

With the idea of Grizzy was associated in Mary's mind all the dearfamiliar objects of her happiest days, and her eyes sparkled withdelight at the thoughts of again beholding her. 

"Oh! when may I go to Bath to dear Aunt Grizzy?" exclaimed she, asshe finished the letter. Lady Juliana looked petrified. Thenrecollecting that this was the first intimation her mother had receivedof such an event being even in contemplation, she made haste toexculpate her aunt at her own expense, by informing her of the truth. But nothing could be more unpalatable than the truth; and poor Mary'sshort-lived joy was soon turned into the bitterest sorrow at thereproaches that were showered upon her by the incensed Lady Juliana. Butfor her these people never would have thought of coming to Bath; or ifthey did, she should have had no connection with them. She had been mostexcessively ill-used by Mr. Douglas's family, and had long sinceresolved to have no further intercourse with them--they were nothing toher, etc. Etc. The whole concluding with a positive prohibition againstMary's taking any notice of her aunt. "From all that has been said, Mary, " said Lady Emily gravely, "there can be no doubt but that you arethe origin of Lady Juliana's unfortunate connection with the family ofDouglas. "

"Undoubtedly, " said her Ladyship. 

"But for you, it appears that she would not have known--certainly neverwould have acknowledged that her husband had an aunt?"

"Certainly not, " said Lady Juliana, warmly. 

"It is a most admirable plan, " continued Lady Emily in the same manner, "and I shall certainly adopt it. When I have children I am determinedthey shall be answerable for my making a foolish marriage; and it shallbe their fault if my husband has a mother. _En attendant, _ I amdetermined to patronise Edward's relations to the last degree; andtherefore, unless Mary is permitted to visit her aunt as often as shepleases, I shall make a point of bringing the dear Aunt Grizzy here. Yes"(Putting her hand to the bell), "I shall order my carriage this instant, and set off. To-morrow, you know, we give a grand dinner inhonour of Adelaide's marriage. Aunt Grizzy shall be queen of the feast. "

Lady Juliana was almost suffocated with passion; but she knew her niecetoo well to doubt her putting her threat into execution, and there wasdistraction in the idea of the vulgar obscure Grizzy Douglas beingpresented to a fashionable party as her aunt. After a violentaltercation, in which Mary took no part, an ungracious permission was atlength extorted, which Mary eagerly availed herself of; and, chargedwith kind messages from Lady Emily, set off in quest of Aunt Grizzy andthe green door. 

After much trouble, and many unsuccessful attacks upon green doors andbalconies, she was going to give up the search in despair, when her eyewas attracted by the figure of Aunt Grizzy herself at full length, stationed at a window, in an old-fashioned riding-habit and spectacles. The carriage was stopped and in an instant Mary was in the arms of heraunt, all agitation, as Lochmarlie flashed on her fancy, at againhearing its native accents uttered by the voice familiar to her frominfancy. Yet the truth must be owned, Mary's taste was somewhatstartled, even while her heart warmed at the sight of the good old aunt. Association and affection still retained their magical influence overher; but absence had dispelled the blest illusions of habitualintercourse; and for the first time she beheld her aunt freed from itssoftening spell. Still her heart clung to her, as to one known and lovedfrom infancy; and she Soon rose superior to the weakness she felt wasbesetting her in the slight sensation of shame, as she contrasted herawkward manner and uncouth accent with the graceful refinement of thosewith whom she associated. 

Far different were the sensations with which the good spinster regardedher niece. She could not often enough declare her admiration of theimprovements that had taken place. Mary was grown taller, and stouter, and fairer and fatter, and her back was a straight as an arrow, and hercarriage would even surprise Miss M'Gowk herself. It was quiteastonishing to see her, for she had always understood Scotland was theplace for beauty, and that nobody ever came to anything in England. EvenSir Sampson and Lady Maclaughlan were forgot as she stood riveted inadmiration, and Mary was the first to recall her recollection to them. Sir Sampson, indeed, might well have been overlooked by a more accurateobserver; for, as Grizzy observed, he was worn away to nothing, and thelittle that remained seemed as if it might have gone too without beingany loss. He was now deaf, paralytic, and childish, and the only symptomof life he showed was an increased restlessness and peevishness. Hislady sat by him, calmly pursuing her work, and, without relaxing from it, merely held up her face to salute Mary as she approached her. 

"So I'm glad you are no worse than you was, dear child, " surveying herfrom head to foot; "that's more than _we_ can say. You see these poorcreatures, " pointing to Sir Sampson and Aunt Grizzy. "They are much aboutit now. Well, we know what we are, but God knows what we shallbe--humph!"

Sir Sampson showed no signs of recognising her, but seemed pleased whenGrizzy resumed her station beside him; and began for the five hundredthtime to tell him why he was not in Lochmarlie Castle, and why he was inBath. 

Mary now saw that there are situations in which a weak capacity has itsuses, and that the most foolish chat may sometimes impart greaterpleasure than all the wisdom of the schools, even when proceeding from abenevolent heart. 

Sir Sampson and Grizzy were so much upon a pair in intellect, that theywere reciprocally happy in each other. This the strong sense of LadyMaclaughlan had long perceived, and was the principal reason of herselecting so weak a woman as her companion; though, at the same time, injustice to her Ladyship's heart as well as head, she had that partialityfor her friend for which no other reason can be assigned than that givenby Montaigne: "Je l'amais parceque c'étoit _elle, _ parceque c'étoit moi. "

Mary paid a long visit to her aunt, and then took leave, promising toreturn the following day to take Miss Grizzy to deliver a letter ofintroduction she had received, and which had not been left to the chanceof the carrier and the snow. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

"This sort of person is skilled to assume the appearance of all virtuesand all good qualities; but their favourite mask is universalbenevolence. And the reason why they prefer this disguise to all others, is, that it tends to conceal its opposite, which is, indeed, their truecharacter--an universal selfishness. "

--KNOX'S _Essays. _

ALTHOUGH, on her return, Mary read her mother's displeasure in herlooks, and was grieved at again having incurred it, she yet felt it aduty towards her father to persevere in her attentions to his aunt. Shewas old, poor, and unknown, plain in her person, weak in her intellects, vulgar in her manners; but she was related to her by ties more bindingthan the laws of fashion or the rules of taste. Even thesedisadvantages, which, to a worldly mind, would have served as excusesfor neglecting her, to Mary's generous nature were so many incentives totreat her with kindness and attention. Faithful to her promise, therefore, she repaired to Milsom Street, and found her aunt allimpatience for her arrival, with the letter so firmly grasped in bothhands, that she seemed almost afraid to trust anyone with a glance atthe direction. 

"This letter, Mary, " said she, when they were seated in the carriage, "will be a great thing for me, and especially for you. I got it fromMrs. Menzies, through Mrs. M'Drone, whose friend, Mrs. Campbell'shalf-sister, Miss Grant, is a great friend of Mrs. Fox's, and she saysshe is a most charming woman. Of course she is no friend to the greatFox; or you know it would have been very odd in me, with Sir Sampson'sprinciples, and my poor brother's principles, and all our ownprinciples, to have visited her. But she's quite of a different familyof Foxes: she's a Fox of Peckwell, it seems--a most amiable woman, veryrich, and prodigiously charitable. I am sure we have been most fortunatein getting a letter to such a woman. " And with this heartfeltejaculation they found themselves at Mrs. Fox's. 

Everything corresponded with the account of this lady's wealth andconsequence; the house was spacious and handsomely furnished, with itsdue proportion of livery servants; and they were ushered into asitting-room which was filled with all the 'wonders of nature andart, --Indian shells, inlaid cabinets, ivory boxes, stuffed birds, oldchina, Chinese mandarins, stood disclosed in all their charms. The ladyof this mansion was seated at table covered with works of a differentdescription: it exhibited the various arts of woman, in regulargradation, from the painted card-rack and gilded firescreen, to thehumble thread-paper and shirt-button. Mrs. Fox was a fine, fashionable-looking woman, with a smooth skin, and still smootheraddress. She received her visitors with that overstrained complaisancewhich, to Mary's nicer tact, at once discovered that all was hollow; butpoor Miss Grizzy was scarcely seated before she was already transfixedwith admiration at Mrs. Fox's politeness, and felt as if her whole lifewould be too short to repay such kindness. Compliments over--theweather, etc. , discussed, Mrs. Fox began:

"You must be surprised, ladies, to see me in the midst of such a litter, but you find me busy arranging the works of some poor _protégées_ ofmine. A most unfortunate family!--I have given them what littleinstruction I could in these little female works; and you see, " puttinga gaudy work-basket into Grizzy's hands, "it is astonishing whatprogress they have made. My friends have been most liberal in theirpurchases of these trifles, but I own I am a wretched beggar. They arein bad hands when they are in mine, poor souls! The fact is, I can give, but I cannot beg. I tell them they really must find somebody else todispose of their little labours--somebody who has more of what I callthe gift of begging than I am blest with. "

Tears of admiration stood in Grizzy's eye; her hand was in herpocket. She looked to Mary, but Mary's hands and eyes betrayed nocorresponding emotions; she felt only disgust at the meanness andindelicacy of the mistress of such a mansion levying contributions fromthe stranger within her door. 

Mrs. Fox proceeded: "That most benevolent woman Miss Gull was here thismorning, and bought no less than seven of these sweet littlepincushions. I would fain have dissuaded her from taking so many--itreally seemed such a stretch of virtue; but she said, 'My dear Mrs. Fox, how can one possibly spend their money better than in doing a goodaction, and at the same time enriching themselves?'"

Grizzy's purse was in her hand. "I declare that's very true. I neverthought of that before; and I'm certain Lady Maclaughlan will say thevery same; and I'm sure she will be delighted--I've no doubt of that--totake a pincushion; and each of my sisters I'm certain, will take one, though we have all plenty of pincushions; and I'll take one to myself, though I have three, I'm sure, that I've never used yet. "

"My dear Miss Douglas, you really are, I could almost say, _too_ good. Two and two's four, and one's five--five half-crowns! My poor_protégées!_ you will really be the making of their fortune!"

Grizzy, with trembling hands, and a face flushed with conscious virtue, drew forth the money from her little hoard. 

But Mrs. Fox did not quit her prey so easily. "If any of your friendsare in want of shirt-buttons, Miss Douglas, I would fain recommend thoseto them. They are made by a poor woman in whom I take some interest, andare far superior to any that are to be had from the shops. They are madefrom the very best materials. Indeed, I take care of that, as" (in amodest whisper) "I furnish her with the material myself; but thegenerality of those you get to purchase are made from old materials. I've ascertained that, and it's a fact you may rely upon. "

Poor Grizzy's hair stood on end, to hear of such depravity in a spherewhere she had never even suspected it; but, for the honour of hercountry, she flattered herself such practices were there unknown; andshe was entering upon a warm vindication of the integrity of Scotchshirt-buttons, when Mrs. Fox coolly observed--

"Indeed, our friend Miss Grant was so conscious of the great superiorityof these buttons over any others, that she bespoke thirty-six dozen ofthem to take to Scotland with her. In fact, they are the real goodold-fashioned shirt-buttons, such as I have heard my mother talk of; andfor all that, I make a point of my poor woman selling them a penny adozen below the shop price; so that in taking twelve dozen, which is thecommon quantity, there is a shilling saved at once. "

Grizzy felt as if she would be the saving of the family by thepurchase of these incomparable shirt buttons, and, putting down her fiveshillings, became the happy possessor of twelve dozen of them. 

Fresh expressions of gratitude and admiration ensued, till Grizzy'sbrain began to whirl even more rapidly than usual, at the thought of thedeeds she had done. 

"And now, " said Mrs. Fox, observing her eyes in a fine frenzy rollingfrom her lapful of pincushions and shirt buttons, to a mandarin nearlyas large as life, "perhaps, my dear Miss Douglas, you will do me thefavour to take a look of my little collection. "

"Favour!" thought Grizzy; "what politeness!" and she protested there wasnothing she liked so much as to look at everything, and that it would bethe greatest favour to show her anything. The mandarin was made to shakehis head--a musical snuffbox played its part--and a variety of otherexpensive toys were also exhibited. 

Mary's disgust increased. "And this woman, " thought she, "professes tobe charitable amidst all this display of selfish extravagance. Probablythe price of one of these costly baubles would have provided for thewhole of these poor people for whom she affects so much compassion, without subjecting her to the meanness of turning her house into abeggar's repository. " And she walked away to the other end of the roomto examine some fine scriptural paintings. 

"Here, " said Mrs. Fox to her victim, as she unlocked a superb cabinet, "is what I value more than my whole collection put together. It is myspecimens of Scotch pebbles; and I owe them solely to the generosity andgood-will of my Scotch friends. I assure you that is a proud reflectionto me. I am a perfect enthusiast in Scotch pebbles, and, I may say, inScotch people. In fact, I am an enthusiast in whatever I am interestedin; and at present, I must own, my heart is set upon making a completecollection of Scotch pebbles. "

Grizzy began to feel a sort of tightness at her throat, at which wasaffixed a very fine pebble brooch pertaining to Nicky, but lent toGrizzy, to enable her to make a more distinguished figure in the gayworld. 

"Oh!" thought she, "what a pity this brooch is Nicky's, and not mine; Iwould have given it to this charming Mrs. Fox. Indeed, I don't see how Ican be off giving it to her, even although it is Nicky's. "

"And, by-the-bye, " exclaimed Mrs. Fox, as if suddenly struck with thesight of the brooch, "that seems a very fine stone of yours. I wonder Idid not observe it sooner; but, indeed, pebbles are thrown away indress. May I beg a nearer view of it?"

Grizzy's brain was now all on fire. On the one hand there was the gloryof presenting the brooch to such a polite, charitable, charming woman;on the other, there was the fear of Nicky's indignation. But then it wasquite thrown away upon Nicky--she had no cabinet, and Mrs. Fox haddeclared that pebbles were quite lost anywhere but in cabinets, and itwas a thousand pities that Nicky's brooch should be lost. All thesethoughts Grizzy revolved with her usual clearness, as she unclasped thebrooch, and gave it into the hand of the collector. 

"Bless me, my dear Miss Douglas, this is really a very fine stone! I hadno conception of it when I saw it sticking in your throat. It looksquite a different thing in the hand; it is a species I am really notacquainted with. I have nothing at all similar to it in my poorcollection. Pray, can you tell me the name of it, and where it is found, that I may at least endeavour to procure a piece of it. "

"I'm sure I wish to goodness my sister Nicky was here--I'm certain shewould--though, to be sure, she has a great regard for it; for it wasfound on the Glenfern estate the very day my grandfather won his pleaagainst Drimsydie; and we always called it the lucky stone from that. "

"The lucky stone! what a delightful name! I shall never think myself inluck till I can procure a piece of your lucky stone. I protest, I couldalmost go to Scotland on purpose. Oh, you dear lucky stone!" kissing itwith rapture. 

"I'm sure--I'm almost certain--indeed, I'm convinced, if my sister Nickywas here, she would be delighted to offer-- It would certainly bedoing my sister Nicky the greatest favour, since you think it would beseen to so much greater advantage in your cabinet, which, for my ownpart, I have not the least doubt of, as certainly my sister Nicky veryseldom wears it for fear of losing it, and it would be a thousand pitiesif it was lost; and, to be sure, it will be much safer locked up--nobodycan dispute that--so I am sure it's by far the best thing my sisterNicky can do--for certainly a pebble brooch is quite lost as a brooch. "

"My dear Miss Douglas! I am really quite ashamed! This is a perfectrobbery, I protest! But I must insist upon your accepting some littletoken of my regard for Miss Nicky in return. " Going to hercharity-table, and returning with a set of painted thread-papers, "Imust request the favour of you to present these to Miss Nicky, with mykind regards, and assure her I shall consider her lucky stone as themost precious jewel in my possession. "

The whole of this scene had been performed with such rapidity that poorGrizzy was not prepared for the sudden metamorphose of Nicky's pebblebrooch into a set of painted thread-papers, and some vague alarms beganto float through her brain. 

Mary now advanced, quite unconscious of what had been going on; andhaving whispered her aunt to take leave, they departed. They returned insilence. Grizzy was so occupied in examining her pincushions andcounting her buttons, that she never looked up till the carriage stoppedin Milsom Street. 

Mary accompanied her in. Grizzy was all impatience to display hertreasures; and as she hastily unfolded them, began to relate herachievements. Lady Maclaughlan heard her in silence, and a deep groanwas all that she uttered; but Grizzy was too well accustomed to begroaned at, to be at all appalled, and went on, "But all that's nothingto the shirt-buttons, made of Mrs. Fox's own linen, and only fiveshillings the twelve dozen; and considering what tricks are played withshirt-buttons now--I assure you people require to be on their guard withshirt-buttons now. "

"Pray, my dear, did you ever read the 'Vicar of Wakefield?'"

"The 'Vicar of Wakefield?' I--I think always I must have read it:--atany rate, I'm certain I've heard of it. "

"Moses and his green spectacles was as one of the acts of Solomoncompared to you and your shirtbuttons. Pray, which of you is it thatwears shirts?"

"I declare that's very true--I wonder I did not think of that sooner--tobe sure, none us wear shirts since my poor brother died. "

"And what's become of her brooch?" turning to Mary, who for the firsttime observed the departure of Nicky's crown jewel. 

"Oh, as to the brooch, " cried Grizzy, "I'm certain you'll all think thatwell bestowed, and certainly it has been the saving of it. " Upon whichshe commenced a most entangled narrative, from which the truth was atlength extracted. 

"Well, " said Lady Maclaughlan, "there are two things God grant I maynever become, --an, _amateur_ in charity, and a collector of curiosities. No Christian can be either--both are pickpockets. I wouldn't keepcompany with my own mother were she either one or other--humph!"

Mary was grieved at the loss of the brooch; but Grizzy seemed more thanever satisfied with the exchange, as Sir Sampson had taken a fancy forthe thread-papers, and it would amuse him for the rest of the day to betold every two minutes what they were intended for. Mary therefore lefther quite happy, and returned to Beech Park. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

 "He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who dares not put it to the touch, To gain or lose it all. "

 _Marquis of Montrose. _

TIME rolled on, but no event occurred in Grizzy's life worthy of beingcommemorated. Lady Juliana began to recover from the shock of herarrival, and at length was even prevailed upon to pay her a visit, andactually spent five minutes in the same room with her. All herLadyship's plans seemed now on the point of being accomplished. Mr. Downe Wright was now Lord Glenallan, with an additional fifteen thousandper annum, and by wiser heads than hers would have been thought anunexceptionable match for any young woman. Leaving his mother to settlehis affairs in Scotland, to which she was much more _au fait_ thanhimself, he hastened to Beech Park to claim Mary's promised hand. 

But neither wealth nor grandeur possessed any sway over Mary'swell-regulated mind, and she turned from that species of happiness whichshe felt would be insufficient to satisfy the best affections of herheart. "No, " thought she, "it is not in splendour and distinction that Ishall find happiness; it is in the cultivation of the domesticvirtues--the peaceful joys of a happy home and a loved companion, thatmy felicity must consist. Without these I feel that I should still bepoor, were I mistress of millions;" and she took the first opportunityof acquainting Lord Glenallan with the nature of her sentiments. 

He received the communication with painful surprise; but as he was oneof those who do not easily divest themselves of an idea that has oncetaken possession of their brain, he seemed resolved to persevere in hisquiet, though pointed attentions. 

Lady Juliana's anger at the discovery of her daughter's refusal itis needless to describe--it may easily be imagined; and poor Mary wasalmost heartbroken by the violence and duration of it. Sometimes shewavered in her ideas as to whether she was doing right in thus resistingher mother's wishes; and in the utmost distress she mentioned herscruples to Lady Emily. 

"As to Lady Juliana's wishes, " said her cousin, "they are meresoap-bubbles; but as to your own views--why, really you are somewhat ofa riddle to me. I rather think, were I such a quiet, civil, well-disposed person as you, I could have married Lord Glenallan wellenough. He is handsome, good-natured, and rich; and though 'he is but aLord, and nothing but a Lord, ' still there is a dash and bustle intwenty thousand a year that takes off from the ennui of a dullcompanion. With five hundred a year, I grant you, he would beexecrable. "

"Then I shall never marry a man with twenty thousand a year whom I wouldnot have with five hundred. "

"In short, you are to marry for love--that's the old story, which, withall your wisdom, you wise, well-educated girls always end in. Whereshall I find a hero upon five hundred a year for you? Of course he mustbe virtuous, noble, dignified, handsome, brave, witty. What would youthink of Charles Lennox?"

Mary coloured. "After what passed, I would not marry Colonel Lennox;no"--affecting to smile--"not if he were to ask me, which is certainlythe most unlikely of all things. "

"Ah! true, I had forgot that scrape. No, that won't do; it certainlywould be most pitiful in you, after what passed. Well, I don't knowwhat's to be done with you. There's nothing for it but that you shouldtake Lord Glenallan, with all his imperfections on his head; and, afterall, I really see nothing that he wants but a little more brain, and asyou'll have the managing of him you can easily supply that deficiency. "

"Indeed, " answered Mary, "I find I have quite little enough for myself, and I have no genius whatever for managing. I shall therefore nevermarry, unless I marry a man on whose judgment I could rely for adviceand assistance, and for whom I could feel a certain deference that Iconsider due from a wife to her husband. "

"I see what you would be at, " said Lady Emily; "you mean to modelyourself upon the behaviour of Mrs. Tooley, who has such a deference forthe judgment of her better half, that she consults him even about thetying of her shoes, and would not presume to give her child a few grainsof magnesia without this full and unqualified approbation. Now I flattermyself my husband and I shall have a more equitable division; for, though man is a reasonable being, he shall know and own that woman is sotoo--sometimes. All things that men ought to know better I shall yield;whatever may belong to either sex, I either seize upon as myprerogative, or scrupulously divide; for which reason I should like theprofession of my husband to be something in which I could not possiblyinterfere. How difficult must it be for a woman in the lower ranks oflife to avoid teaching her husband how to sew, if he is a tailor; or howto bake, if he is a baker, etc. 

"Nature seems to have provided for this tendency of both sexes, bymaking your sensible men--that is, men who think themselves sensible, and wish everybody else to think the same--incline to foolish women. Ican detect one of these sensible husbands at a glance, by the pomp andformality visible in every word, look, or action--men, in short, whose'visages do cream and mantle like a standing pond;' who are perfectJoves in their own houses--who speak their will by a nod, and lay downthe law by the motion of their eyebrow--and who attach prodigious ideasof dignity to frightening their children, and being worshipped by theirwives, till you see one of these wiseacres looking as if he thoughthimself and his obsequious helpmate were exact personifications of Adamand Eve--' he for God only, she for God in him. ' Now I am much afraid, Mary, with all your sanctity, you are in some danger of becoming one ofthese idolatresses. "

"I hope not, " replied Mary, laughing; "but if I should, that seemsscarcely so bad as the sect of Independents in the marriage state; forexample, there is Mrs. Boston, who by all strangers is taken for awidow, such emphasis does she lay upon the personal pronoun--with her, 'tis always, _I_ do this, or _I_ do that, without the slightestreference to her husband; and she talks of _my_ house, _my_ gardens, _my_ carriage, _my_ children, as if there were no copartnery in thecase. "

"Ah, she is very odious, " cried Lady Emily; "she is both master andmistress, and more if possible she makes her husband look like herfootman; but she is a fool, as every woman must needs be who thinks shecan raise herself by lowering her husband. Then there is the sect of theWranglers, whose marriage is only one continued dispute. But, in short, I see it is reserved for me to set a perfect example to my sex in themarried state. But I'm more reasonable than you, I suspect, for I don'tinsist upon having a bright genius for my mate. "

"I confess I should like that my husband's genius was at least as brightas my own, " said Mary, "and I can't think there is anything unreasonablein that; or rather, I should say, were I a genius myself, I could betterdispense with a certain portion of intellect in my husband; as it hasbeen generally remarked that those who are largely endowed themselvescan easier dispense with talents in their companions than others of moremoderate endowments can do; but virtue and talents on the one side, virtue and tenderness on the other, I look upon as the principalingredients in a happy union. "

"Well, I intend to be excessively happy; and yet, I don't think Edwardwill ever find the longitude. And, as for my tenderness--humph!--asLady Maclaughlan says; but as for you--I rather think you're in somedanger of turning into an Aunt Grizzy, with a long waist and largepockets, peppermint drops and powdered curls; but, whatever you do, forheaven's sake let us have no more human sacrifices--if you do, I shallcertainly appear at your wedding in sackcloth. " And this was all ofcomfort or advice that her Ladyship could bestow. 

As Lady Emily was not a person who concealed either her own secrets orthose of others, Colonel Lennox was not long of hearing from her whathad passed, and of being made thoroughly acquainted with Mary'ssentiments on love and marriage. "Such a heart must be worth winning, "thought he; but he sighed to think that he had less chance for the prizethan another. Independent of his narrow fortune, which, he was aware, would be an insuperable bar to obtaining Lady Juliana's consent, Mary'scoldness and reserve towards him seemed to increase rather thandiminish. Or if she sometimes gave way to the natural frankness andgaiety of her disposition before him, a word or look expressive ofadmiration on his part instantly recalled to her those painful ideaswhich had been for a moment forgot, and seemed to throw him at a greaterdistance than ever. 

Colonel Lennox was too noble-minded himself to suppose for an instantthat Mary actually felt dislike towards him because at the commencementof their acquaintance he had not done justice to her merits; but he wasalso aware that, until he had explained to her the nature of hissentiments, she must naturally regard his attentions with suspicion, andconsider them rather as acts of duty towards his mother than as thespontaneous expression of his own attachment. He therefore, in the mostsimple and candid manner, laid open to her the secret of his heart, andin all the eloquence of real passion, poured forth those feelings oflove and admiration with which she had unconsciously inspired him. 

For a moment Mary's distrust was overcome by the ardour of hisaddress, and the open manly manner in which he had avowed the rise andprogress of his attachment; and she yielded herself up to the delightfulconviction of loving and being beloved. 

But soon that gave way to the mortifying reflection that rushed over hermind, "He _has_ tried to love me!" thought she; "but it is in obedienceto his mother's wish, and he thinks he has succeeded. No, no; I cannotbe the dupe of his delusion--I will not give myself to one who has beensolicited to love me!" And again wounded delicacy and woman's prideresumed their empire over her, and she rejected the idea of _ever_receiving Colonel Lennox as a lover. He heard her determination with thedeepest anguish, and used every argument and entreaty to soften herresolution; but Mary had wrought herself up to a pitch of heroism-shehad rejected the man she loved--the only man she ever _could_ love: thatdone, to persist in the sacrifice seemed easy; and they parted withincreased attachment in their hearts, even though those hearts seemedsevered for ever. 

Soon after he set off to join his regiment; and it was only in sayingfarewell that Mary felt how deeply her happiness was involved in thefate of the man she had for ever renounced. To no one did she impartwhat had passed; and Lady Emily was too dull herself, for some daysafter the departure of her friend, to take any notice of Mary'sdejection. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

 "Who taught the parrot to cry, hail? What taught the chattering pie his tale? Hunger; that sharpener of the wits, Which gives e'en fools some thinking fits"

 DRUMMOND'S _Persius. _

MARY found herself bereft of both her lovers nearly at the same time. Lord Glenallan, after formally renewing his suit, at length took a finalleave, and returned to Scotland. Lady Juliana's indignation could onlybe equalled by Dr. Redgill's upon the occasion. He had planned a snugretreat for himself during the game season at Glenallan Castle; where, from the good-nature and easy temper of both master and mistress, he hadno doubt but that he should in time come to _rule the roast, _ and belord paramount over kitchen and larder. His disappointment was thereforegreat at finding all the solid joys of red deer and moor-game, kipperedsalmon and mutton hams, "vanish like the baseless fabric of a vision, "leaving not a wreck behind. 

"Refused Lord Glenallan!" exclaimed he to Lady Emily, upon firsthearing of it. "The thing's incredible--absolutely impossible--I won'tbelieve it!"

"That's right, Doctor; who is it that says 'And still believe the storyfalse that _ought_ not to be true? I admire your candour, and wish Icould imitate it. "

"Then your Ladyship really believes it. 'Pon my soul, I--I--it's really avery vexatious affair. I feel for Lady Juliana, poor woman! No wondershe's hysterical-five and twenty thousand a year refused! What is it shewould have? The finest deer park in Scotland! Every sort of game uponthe estate! A salmon fishing at the very door!--I should just like toknow what _is_ the meaning of it?"

"Cannot you guess, Doctor" asked Lady Emily. 

"Guess! No, 'pon my soul! I defy any man to guess what could tempt awoman to refuse five and twenty thousand a year; unless, indeed, she hassomething higher in view, and even then she should be pretty sure of hermark. But I suppose, because Miss Adelaide has got a Duke, she thinksshe must have one too. I suppose that's the story; but I can tell herDukes are not so plenty; and she's by no means so fine a woman as hersister, and her market's spoilt, or I'm much mistaken. What man in hissenses would ever ask a woman who had been such an idiot as to refusefive and twenty thousand a year?"

"I see, Doctor, you are quite a novice in the tender passion. Cannot youmake allowance for it: a young lady's not being in love?"

"In what?" demanded the Doctor. 

"In love, " repeated Lady Emily. 

"Love! Bah--nonsense--no mortal in their senses ever thinks of suchstuff now. "

"Then you think love and madness are one and the same thing, it seems?"

"I think the man or woman who could let their love stand in the way offive and twenty thousand a year is the next thing to being mad, " saidthe Doctor warmly; "and in this case I can see no difference. "

"But you'll allow there are some sorts of love that may be indulgedwithout casting any shade upon the understanding?"

"I really can't tell what your Ladyship means, " said the Doctorimpatiently. 

"I mean, for example, the love one may feel towards a turtle, such as wehad lately. "

"That's quite a different thing, " interrupted the Doctor. 

"Pardon me, but whatever the consequence may be, the effects in bothcases were very similar, as exemplified in yourself. Pray, whatdifference did it make to your friends, who were deprived of yoursociety, whether you spent your time in walking with 'even step, andmusing gait, ' before your Dulcinea's window or the turtle'scistern?--whether you were engrossed in composing a sonnet to yourmistress's eyebrow, or in contriving a new method of heightening theenjoyments of _calipash?_ --whether you expatiated with greater raptureon the charms of a white skin or green fat?--whether you were mostdevoted to a languishing or a lively beauty?--whether----"

"'Pon my honour, Lady Emily, I really--I--I can't conceive what it is youmean. There's a time for everything; and I'm sure nobody but yourselfwould ever have thought of bringing in a turtle to a conversation uponmarriage. "

"On the contrary, Doctor, I thought it had been upon love; and I wasendeavouring to convince you that even the wisest of men may besusceptible of certain tender emotions towards a beloved object. "

"You'll never convince me that any but a fool can be in love, " criedthe Doctor, his visage assuming a darker purple as the argumentadvanced. 

"Then you must rank Lord Glenallan, with his five and twenty thousand ayear, amongst the number, for he is desperately in love, I assure you. "

"As to that, Lord Glenallan, or any man with his fortune, may bewhatever he chooses. He has a right to be in love. He can afford to bein love. "

"I have heard much of the torments of love, " said Lady Emily; "but Inever heard it rated as a luxury before. I hope there is no chance ofyour being made Premier, otherwise I fear we should have a tax uponlove-marriages immediately. "

"It would be greatly for the advantage of the nation, as well as thecomfort of individuals, if there was, " returned the Doctor. "Many apleasant fellow has been lost to society by what you call alove-marriage. I speak from experience. I was obliged to drop theoldest friend I had upon his making one of your love-marriages. "

"What! you were afraid of the effects of evil example?" asked LadyEmily. 

"No--it was not for that; but he asked me to take a family dinner withhim one day, and I, without knowing anything of the character of thewoman he had married, was weak enough to go. I found a very so-sotablecloth and a shoulder of mutton, which ended our acquaintance. Inever entered his door after it. In fact, no man's happiness is proofagainst dirty tablecloths and bad dinners; and you may take my word forit, Lady Emily, these are the invariable accompaniments of yourlove-marriages. "

"Pshaw! that is only amongst the _bourgeois, "_ said Lady Emilyaffectedly; "that is not the sort of _ménage_ I mean to have. Here is to be the style of my domestic establishment;" and she repeatedShenstone's beautiful pastoral--

 "My banks they are furnished with bees, " etc. , till she came to--

 "I have found out a gift for my fair, I have found where the wood-pigeons breed. "

"There's some sense in that, " cried the Doctor, who had been listeningwith great weariness. " You may have a good pigeon-pie, or _un sauté depigeons au sang, _ which is still better when well dressed. "

"Shocking!" exclaimed Lady Emily; "to mention pigeon-pies in thesame breath with nightingales and roses!"

"I'll tell you what, Lady Emily, it's just these sort of nonsensicaldescriptions that do all the mischief amongst you young ladies. It'sthese confounded poets that turn all your heads, and make you think youhave nothing to do after you are married but sit beside fountains andgrottoes, and divert yourself with birds and flowers, instead of lookingafter your servants, and paying your butcher's bills; and, after all, what is the substance of that trash you have just been reading, but tosay that the man was a substantial farmer and grazier, and had bees;though I never heard of any man in his senses going to sleep amongst hisbeehives before. 'Pon my soul! if I had my will I would burn every lineof poetry that ever was written. A good recipe for a pudding is worthall that your Shenstones and the whole set of them ever wrote; andthere's more good sense and useful information in this book"--rappinghis knuckles against a volume he held in his hand--"than in all yourpoets, ancient and modern. "

Lady Emily took it out of his hand and opened it. 

"And some very poetical description, too, Doctor; although you affectto despise it so much. Here is an eulogium on the partridge. I doubtmuch if St. Preux ever made a finer on his adorable Julie;" and she readas follows:--

"La Perdrix tient Ie premier rang apres la Bécasse, dans la cathégoriedes gibiers à plumes. C'est, lorsqu'elle est rouge, l'un des plushonorables et desmeilleurs rôtis qui puissent être étalés sur une tablegourmande. Sa forme appétissante, sa taille élégante et svelte, quoiqu'arrondie, son embonpoint modéré, ses jambes d'écarlate; enfin, son fumetdivin et ses qualités restaurantes, tout concourt à la faire rechercherdes vrais amateurs. D'autres gibiers sont plus rares, plus chers, mieuxaccueillis par la vanité, le prejuge, et la mode; la Perdrix rouge, belle de sa propre beauté, dont les qualités sont indépendantes de lafantaisie, qui réunit en sa personne tout ce qui peut charmer les yeux, delecter Ie palais, stimuler l'appétit, et ranimer les forces, plairadans-tous les temps, et concourra à l'honneur de tous les festins, sousquelque forme qu'elle y paroisse. " [1]

[1] "Manuel des Amphitryons. "

The Doctor sighed: "That's nothing to what he says of the woodcock:" andwith trembling hand she turned over the leaves, till he found theplace. "Here it is, " said he, "page 88, chap. Xvi. Just be so good asread that, Lady Emily, and say whether it is not infamous that MonsieurGrillade has never even attempted to make it. "

With an air of melancholy enthusiasm she read--"Dans les pays oû lesBécasses sont communes, on obtient, de leurs carcasses pilées dans unmortier, une purée sur laquelle on dresse diverses entrées, telles quede petites côtelettes de mouton, etc. Cotte purée est l'une des plusdélicieuses choses qui puisse être introduite dans Ie palais d'ungourmand, et l'on peut assurer que quiconque n'en a point mangé n'apoint connu les joies du paradis terrestre. Une purée de Bécasse, bienfaite, est Ie _ne plus ultrâ_ des jouissances humaines. II faut mouriraprès l'avoir goutée, car toutes les autres alors ne paroitront plusqu'insipides. "

"And these _bécasses, _ these woodcocks, perfectly swarm on theGlenallan estate in the season, " cried the Doctor; "and to think thatsuch a man should have been refused. But Miss Mary will repent this thelongest day she lives. I had a cook in my eye for them, too--one who isquite up to the making of this _purée. _'Pon my soul! shedeserve to live upon sheep's head and haggis for the rest of her life;and if I was Lady Juliana I would try the effect of bread and water. "

"She certainly does not aspire to such joys as are here portrayed inthis _your_ book of life, " said Lady Emily; "for I suspect she couldendure existence even upon roast mutton with the man she loves. "

"That's nothing to the purpose, unless the man she loves, as you call it, loves to live upon roast mutton too. Take my word for it, unless shegives her husband good dinners he'll not care twopence for her in aweek's time. I look upon bad dinners to be the source of much of themisery we hear of in the married life. Women are much mistaken if theythink it's by dressing themselves they are to please their husbands. "

"Pardon me, Doctor, we must be the best judges there, and I have theauthority of all ages and sages in my favour: the beauty and the charmsof women have been the favourite theme, time immemorial; now no one everheard of a fair one being celebrated for her skill in cookery. "

"There I beg leave to differ from you, " said the Doctor, with an air ofexultation, again referring to his _text-book_--"here is the greatMadame Pompadour, celebrated for a single dish: 'Les tendrons d'agneauau soleil et à la Pompadour, sont sortis de l'imagination decette dame célèbre, pour entrer dans la bouche d'un roi. "

"But it was Love that inspired her--it was Love that kindled the fire inher imagination. In short, you must acknowledge that

"Love rules the court, the camp, the grove. "

"I'll acknowledge no such thing, " cried the Doctor, with indignation. "Love rule the camp, indeed! A very likely story! Don't I know that allour first generals carry off the best cooks--that there's no such livinganywhere as in camp--that their aides-de-camp are quite ruined byit--that in time of war they live at the rate of twenty thousand a year, and when they come home they can't get a dinner they can eat? As for thecourt, I don't pretend to know much about it; but I suspect there's morecooks than Cupids to be seen about it. And for the groves, I shall onlysay I never heard of any of your _fetes champétre_, or picnics, where all the pleasure didn't seem to consist in the eating anddrinking. "

"Ah, Doctor, I perceive you have taken all your ideas on that subjectfrom Werter, who certainly was a sort of a sentimental _gourmand, _ heseems to have enjoyed so much drinking his coffee under the shade of thelime-trees, and going to the kitchen to take his own pease-soup; andthen he breaks out into such raptures at the idea of the illustriouslovers of Penelope killing and dressing their own meat! Butchers andcooks in one! only conceive them with their great knives and blueaprons, or their spits and white nightcaps! Poor Penelope! no wonder shepreferred spinning to marrying one of these creatures! Faugh! I musthave an ounce of civet to sweeten my imagination. " And she flew of, leaving the Doctor to con over the "Manuel des Amphitryons, " and sighat the mention of joys, sweet, yet mournful, to his soul. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

 "The ample proposition that hope makes In all designs begun on earth below, Fails in the promised largeness. "

 SHAKESPEARE. 

THERE is no saying whether the Doctor's system might not have beenresorted to had not Lady Juliana's wrath been for the present suspendedby an invitation to Altamont House. True, nothing could be colder thanthe terms in which it was couched; but to that her Ladyship wasinsensible, and would have been equally indifferent had she known that, such as it was, she owed it more to the obstinacy of her son-in-law thanthe affection of her daughter. The Duke of Altamont was one of those whoattach great ideas of dignity to always carrying their point; and thoughhe might sometimes be obliged to suspend his plans, he never had beenknown to relinquish them. Had he settled in his own mind to tie hisneckcloth in a particular way, not all the eloquence of Cicero or thetears of O'Neil would have induced him to alter it; and Adelaide, thehaughty, self-willed Adelaide, soon found that, of all yokes, the mostinsupportable is the yoke of an obstinate fool. In the thousand triflingoccurances of domestic life (for his Grace was interested in all theminutiae of his establishment), where good sense and good humour oneither side would have gracefully yielded to the other, there was aperpetual contest for dominion, which invariably ended in Adelaide'sdefeat. The Duke, indeed, never disputed, or reasoned, or even replied;but the thing was done; till, at the end of six weeks, the Duchess ofAltamont most heartily hated and despised the man she had so latelyvowed to love and obey. On the present occasion his Grace certainlyappeared in the most amiable light in wishing to have Lady Julianainvited to his house; but in fact it proceeded entirely from hisbesetting sin, obstinacy. He had propose her accompanying her daughterat the time of her marriage, and been overruled; but with all thepertinacity of a little mind he had kept fast hold of the idea, merelybecause it was his own, and he was now determined to have it put inexecution. In a postscript to the letter, and in the same cordial style, the Duchess said something of a hope, that _if_ her mother did come totown, Mary should accompany her; but this her Ladyship, to Mary's greatrelief, declared should not be, although she certainly was very much ata loss how to dispose of her. Mary timidly expressed her wish to bepermitted to return to Lochmarlie, and mentioned that her uncle and aunthad repeatedly offered to come to Bath for her, if she might be allowedto accompany them home; but to this her mother also gave a decidednegative, adding that she never should see Lochmarlie again, if shecould help it. In short, she must remain where she was till somethingcould be fixed as to her future destination. "It was most excessivelytiresome to be clogged with a great unmarried daughter, " her Ladyshipobserved, as she sprang into the carriage with a train of dogs, anddrove off to dear delightful London. 

But, alas! the insecurity of even the best-laid schemes of humanforesight! Lady Juliana was in the midst of arrangements for endlesspleasures, when she received accounts of the death of her now almostforgotten husband! He had died from the gradual effects of the climate, and that was all that remained to be told of the unfortunate HenryDouglas! If his heartless wife shed some natural tears, she wiped themsoon; but the wounds of disappointment and vanity were not so speedilyeffaced, as she contrasted the brilliant court-dress with the unbecomingwidow's cap. Oh, she so detested black things--it was so hateful to wearmourning--she never could feel happy or comfortable in black! and, atsuch a time, how particularly unfortunate! Poor Douglas! she was verysorry! And so ended the holiest and most indissoluble of human ties!

The Duchess did not think it incumbent upon her to be affected by thedeath of a person she had never seen; but she put on mourning; put offher presentation at Court for a week, and stayed away one night from theopera. 

On Mary's warm and unpolluted heart the tidings of her father's deathproduced a very different effect. Though she had never known, in theirfullest extent, those feelings of filial affection, whose source beginswith our being, and over which memory loves to linger, as at thehallowed fount of the purest of earthly joys, she had _yet_ been taughtto cherish a fond remembrance of him to whom she owed her being. She hadbeen brought up in the land of his birth--his image was associated inher mind with many of the scenes most dear to her--his name and hismemory were familiar to those amongst whom she dwelt, and thus herfeelings of natural affection had been preserved in all their genuinewarmth and tenderness. Many a letter, and many a little token of herlove, she had, from her earliest years, been accustomed to send him; andshe had ever fondly cherished the hope of her father's return, and thatshe would yet know the happiness of being blest in a parent's love. Butnow all these hopes were extinguished; and, while she wept over them inbitterness of heart, she yet bowed with pious resignation to the decreeof heaven. 

CHAPTER XXVII

 "Shall we grieve their hovering shades, Which wait the revolution in our hearts? Shall we disdain their silent, soft address; Their posthumous advice and pious prayer?"

 YOUNG. 

FOR some months all was peaceful seclusion in Mary's life, and the onlyvarieties she knew were occasional visits to Aunt Grizzy's, and now andthen spending some days with Mrs. Lennox. She saw with sorrow thedeclining health of her venerable friend, whose wasted form and delicatefeatures had now assumed an almost ethereal aspect. Yet she nevercomplained, and it was only from her languor and weakness that Maryguessed she suffered. When urged to have recourse to medical advice sheonly smiled and shook her head; yet, ever gentle and complying to thewishes of others, she was at length prevailed upon to receive the visitsof a medical attendant, and her own feelings were but too faithfullyconfirmed by his opinion. Being an old friend of the family, he tookupon himself to communicate the intelligence to her son, then abroadwith his regiment; and in the meantime Mary took up her residence atRose Hall, and devoted herself unceasingly to the beloved friend she feltshe was so soon to lose. 

"Ah! Mary, " she would sometimes say, "God forgive me! but my heart isnot yet weaned from worldly wishes. Even now, when I feel all the vanityof human happiness, I think how it would have soothed my last momentscould I have but seen you my son's before I left the world! Yet, alas!our time here is so short that it matters little whether it be spent injoy or grief, provided it be spent in innocence and virtue. Mine hasbeen a long life compared to many; but when I look back upon it, what aspan it seems! And it is not the remembrance of its brightest days thatare now a solace to my heart. Dearest Mary, if you live long, you willlive to think of the sad hours you have given me, as the fairest, ofperhaps, of many a happy day that I trust Heaven has yet in store foryou. Yes! God has made some whose powers are chiefly ordained to comfortthe afflicted, and in fulfilling His will you must surly be blest. "

Mary listened to the half-breathed wishes of her dear old friend withpainful feelings of regret and self-reproach. 

"Charles Lennox loved me, " thought she, "truly, tenderly loved me; andhad I but repaid his noble frankness--had I suffered him to read myheart when he laid his open before me, I might now have gladdened thelast days of the mother he adores. I might have proudly avowed thataffection I must now forever hide. "

But at the end of some weeks Mrs. Lennox was no longer susceptible ofemotions either of joy or sorrow. She gradually sank into a state ofalmost total insensibility, from which not even the arrival of her sonhad power to rouse her. His anguish was extreme at finding his mother ina condition so perfectly hopeless; and every other idea seemed, for thepresent, absorbed in his anxiety for her. As Mary witnessed his watchfulcares and tender solicitude, she could almost have envied theunconscious object of such devoted attachment. 

A few days after his arrival his leave of absence was abruptly recalled, and he was summoned to repair to headquarters with all possibleexpedition. The army was on the move, and a battle was expected to befought. At such a time hesitation or delay, under any circumstances, would have been inevitable disgrace; and, dreadful as was thealternative, Colonel Lennox wavered not an instant in his resolution. With a look of fixed agony, but without uttering a syllable, he put theletter into Mary's hand as she sat by his mother's bedside, and thenleft the room to order preparations to be made for his instantdeparture. On his return Mary witnessed the painful conflict of hisfeelings in his extreme agitation as he approached his mother, to lookfor the last time on those features, already moulded into more thanmortal beauty. A bright ray of the setting sun streamed full upon thatface, now reposing in the awful but hallowed calm which is sometimesdiffused around the bed of death. The sacred stillness was only brokenby the evening song of the blackbird and the distant lowing of thecattle--sounds which had often brought pleasure to that heart, nowinsensible to all human emotion. All nature shone forth in gaiety andsplendour, but the eye and the ear were alike closed against all earthlyobjects. Yet who can tell the brightness of those visions with which theparting soul may be visited? Sounds and sights, alike unheard, unknownto mortal sense, may then hold divine communion with the soaring spirit, and inspire it with bliss inconceivable, ineffable!

Colonel Lennox gazed upon the countenance of his mother. Again and againhe pressed her inanimate hands to his lips, and bedewed them with histears, as about to tear himself from her for ever. At that moment sheopened her eyes, and regarded him with a look of intelligence, whichspoke at once to his heart. He felt that he was seen and known. Her lookwas long and fondly fixed upon his face; then turned to Mary with anexpression so deep and earnest that both felt the instantaneous appeal. The veil seemed to drop from their hearts; one glance sufficed to tellthat both were fondly, truly loved; and as Colonel Lennox receivedMary's almost fainting form in his arms, he knelt by his mother, andimplored her blessing on her children. A smile of angelic brightnessbeamed upon her face as she extended her hand towards them, and her lipsmoved as in prayer, though no sound escaped them. One long and lingeringlook was given to those so dear even in death. She then raised her eyesto heaven, and the spirit sought its native skies!

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

 "Cette liaison n'est ni passion ni amitié pure: elle fait une classe à part. " --LA BRUYERE

IT was long before Mary could believe in the reality of what had passed. It appeared to her as a beautiful yet awful dream. Could it be that shehad plighted her faith by the bed of death; that the last look of herdeparted friend had hallowed the vow now registered in heaven; thatCharles Lennox had claimed her as his own, even in the agony of tearinghimself from all he loved; and that she had only felt how dear she wasto him at the very moment when she had parted from him, perhaps forever? But Mary strove to banish these overwhelming thoughts from hermind, as she devoted herself to the performance of the last duties toher departed friend. These paid, she again returned to Beech Park. 

Lady Emily had been a daily visitor at Rose Hall during Mrs. Lennox'sillness, and had taken a lively interest in the situation of the family;but, notwithstanding, it was some time before Mary could so far subdueher feelings as to speak with composure of what had passed. She felt, too, how impossible it was by words to convey to her any idea of thatexcitement of mind, where a whole life of ordinary feeling seemsconcentrated in one sudden but ineffable emotion. All that had passedmight be imagined, but could not be told; and she shrank from the taskof portraying those deep and sacred feelings which language never couldimpart to the breast of another. 

Yet she felt it was using her cousin unkindly to keep her in ignoranceof what she was certain would give her pleasure to hear; and, summoningher resolution, she at length disclosed to her all that had taken place. Her own embarrassment was too great to allow her to remark Lady Emily'schanging colour, as she listened to her communication; and after it wasended she remained silent for some minutes, evidently struggling withher emotions. 

At length she exclaimed indignantly--"And so it seems Colonel Lennoxand you have all this time been playing the dying lover and the cruelmistress to each other? How I detest such duplicity! and duplicity withme! My heart was ever open to you, to him, to the whole world; whileyours--nay, your very faces--were masked to me!"

Mary was too much confounded by her cousin's reproaches to be able toreply to them for some time; and when she did attempt to vindicateherself, she found it was in vain. Lady Emily refused to listen toher; and in haughty displeasure quitted the room, leaving poor Maryoverwhelmed with sorrow and amazement. 

There was a simplicity of heart, a singleness of idea in herself, that prevented her from ever attaching suspicion to others. But a sortof vague, undefined apprehension floated through her brain as sherevolved the extraordinary behaviour of her cousin. Yet, it was thatsort of feeling to which she could not give either a local habitation ora name; and she continued for some time in that most bewildering stateof trying, yet not daring to think. Some time elapsed, and Mary'sconfusion of ideas was increasing rather than diminishing, when LadyEmily slowly entered the room, and stood some moments before her withoutspeaking. 

At length, making an effort, she abruptly said--"Pray, Mary, tellme what you think of me?"

Mary looked at her with surprise. "I think of you, my dear cousin, as Ihave always done. "

"That is no answer to my question. What do you think of my behaviourjust now?"

"I think, " said Mary gently, "that if you have misunderstood me; that, open and candid yourself, almost to a fault, you readily resent theremotest appearance of duplicity in others. But you are too generous notto do me justice--"

"Ah, Mary! how little do I appeal in my own eyes at this moment; and howlittle, with all my boasting, have I known my own heart! No! It was notbecause I am open and candid that I resented your engagement withColonel Lennox; it was because I was--because--cannot you guess?"

Mary's colour rose, as she cast down her eyes, and exclaimed withagitation, "No-no, indeed!"

Lady Emily threw her arms around her:--"Dear Mary, you are perhaps theonly person upon earth I would make such a confession to--it was becauseI, who had plighted my faith to another--I, who piqued myself upon myopenness and fidelity--I--how it chokes me to utter it! I was beginningto love him myself!--only beginning, observe, for it is already over--Ineeded but to be aware of my danger to overcome it. Colonel Lennox isnow no more to me than your lover, and Edward is again all that he everwas to me; but I--what am I?--faithless and self-deceived!" and a fewtears dropped from her eyes. 

Mary, too much affected to speak, could only press her in silence to herheart. 

"These are tears of shame, of penitence, though I must own they lookvery like those of regret and mortification. What a mercy it is that'the chemist's magic art' _cannot_ 'crystalise these sacred treasures, '"said she with a smile, as she shook a tear-drop from her hand; "they aregems I am really not at all fond of appearing in. "

"And yet you never appeared to greater advantage, " said Mary, as sheregarded her with admiration. "Ah! so you say; but thereis, perhaps, a little womanish feeling lurking there. And now youdoubtless expect--no, _you_ don't, but another would that I should begina sentimental description of the rise and progress of this ill-fatedattachment, as I suppose it would be styled in the language of romance;but in truth I can tell you nothing at all about it. "

"Perhaps Colonel Lennox, " said Mary, blushing, and hesitating to nameher suspicion. 

"No, no--Colonel Lennox was not to blame. There was no false play oneither side; he is as much above the meanness of coquetry, as--I mustsay it--as I am. His thoughts were all along taken up with you, evenwhile he talked, and laughed, and quarrelled with me. While I, so strongin the belief that worlds could not shake my allegiance to Edward, couldhave challenged all mankind to win my love; and this wicked, wayward, faithless heart kept silent till you spoke, and then it uttered such afearful sound! And yet I don't think it was love neither--'l'on n'aimebien qu'une seule fois; c'est la première;'--it was rather a sortof an idle, childish, engrossing sentiment, that _might_ have grown tosomething stronger; but 'tis past now. I have shown you all the weaknessof my heart--despise me if you will. "

"Dearest Lady Emily, had I the same skill to show the sentiments ofmine, you would there see what I cannot express--how I admire this noblecandour, this generous self-abasement--"

"Oh, as to meanly hiding my faults, that is what I scorn to do. Imay be ignorant of them myself, and in ignorance I may cherish them;but, once convinced of them, I give them to the winds, and all whochoose may pick them up. Violent and unjust, and self-deceived, I havebeen, and may be again; but deceitful I never was, and never willbe. "

"My dear cousin, what might you not be if you chose!"

"Ah! I know what you mean, and I begin to think you are in the right;by-and-bye, I believe, I shall come to be of your way of thinking (ifever I have a daughter she certainly shall), but not just at present, the reformation would be too sudden. All that I can promise for atpresent is, that 'henceforth I will chide no breather in the world butmyself, against whom I know most faults;' and now, from this day, fromthis moment, I vow--"

"No, I shall do it for you, " said Mary, with a smile, as she threw herarms around her neck; "henceforth

 'The golden laws of love shall be Upon this pillar hung; A simple heart, a single eye, A true and constant tongue. 

 'Let no man for more love pretend Than he has hearts in store; True love begun shall never end: Love one, and love no more. '" [1]

[1] "Marquis of Montrose. "

But much as Mary loved and admired her cousin, she could not be blind tothe defects of her character, and she feared they might yet beproductive of great unhappiness to herself. Her mind was open to thereception of every image that brought pleasure along with it; while, inthe same spirit, she turned from everything that wore an air ofseriousness or self-restraint; and even the best affections of anaturally good heart were borne away by the ardour of her feelings andthe impetuosity of her temper. Mary grieved to see the graces of a noblemind thus running wild for want of early culture; and she sought byevery means, save those of lecture and admonition to lead her to morefixed habits of reflection and self examination. 

But it required all her strength of mind to turn her thoughts at thistime from herself to another--she, the betrothed of one who was now inthe midst of danger, of whose existence she was even uncertain, but onwhose fate she felt her own suspended. 

"Oh!" thought she, with bitterness of heart, "how dangerous it is toyield too much even to our best affections. I, with so many objects toshare in mine, have yet pledged my happiness on a being perishable asmyself!" And her soul sickened at the ills her fancy drew. But shestrove to repress this strength of attachment, which she felt wouldotherwise become too powerful for her reason to control; and if she didnot entirely succeed, at least the efforts she made and the continualexercise of mind enabled her in some degree to counteract the balefuleffects of morbid anxiety and overweening attachment. At length herapprehensions were relieved for a time by a letter from Colonel Lennox. An engagement with the enemy had taken place, but he had escaped unhurt. He repeated his vows of unalterable affection; and Mary felt that shewas justified in receiving them. She had made Lady Juliana and Mrs. Douglas both acquainted with her situation. The former had taken nonotice of the communication, but the latter had expressed her approvalin all the warmth and tenderness of gratified affection. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

 "Preach as I please, I doubt our curious men Will choose a pheasant still before a hen. "

 HORACE. 

AMONGST the various occupations to which Mary devoted herself, there wasnone which merits to be recorded as a greater act of immolation than herunremitting attentions to Aunt Grizzy. It wa not merely the sacrifice oftime and talents that was required for carrying on this intercourse;these, it is to be hoped, even the most selfish can occasionallysacrifice to the _bienseances_ of society; but it was, as it were, atotal surrender of her whole being. To a mind of any reflection nosituation can ever be very irksome in which we can enjoy the privilegesof sitting still and keeping silent--but as the companion of Miss Grizzy, quiet and reflection were alike unattainable. When not engaged in_radotage_ with Sir Sampson, her life was spent in losing her scissors, mislaying her spectacles, wondering what had become of her thimble, andspeculating on the disappearance of a needle--all of which losses dailyand hourly recurring, subjected Mary to an unceasing annoyance, for shecould not be five minutes in her aunt's company without out being atleast as many times disturbed, with--"Mary, my dear, will you get up?--Ithink my spectacles must be about you "--or, "Mary, my dear, your eyesare younger than mine, will you look if you can see my needle on thecarpet?"--or, "Are you sure, Mary, that's not my thimble you have got?It's very like it; and I'm sure I can't conceive what's become of mine, if that's not it, " etc. Etc. Etc. But her idleness was, if possible, still more irritating than her industry. When she betook herself to thewindow, it was one incessant cry of "Who's coach is that, Mary, with thegreen and orange liveries? Come and look at this lady and gentleman, Mary; I'm sure I wonder who they are! Here's something, I declare I'msure I don't know what you call it--come here, Mary, and see what it is"--and so on _ad infinitum. _ Walking was still worse. Grizzy not onlystood to examine every article in the shop windows, but actually turnedround to observe every striking figure that passed. In short, Mary couldnot conceal from herself that weak vulgar relations are an evil to thosewhose taste and ideas are refined by superior intercourse. But even thisdiscovery she did not deem sufficient to authorise her casting off orneglecting poor Miss Grizzy, and she in no degree relaxed in her patientattentions towards her. 

Even the affection of her aunt, which she possessed in the highestpossible degree, far from being an alleviation, was only an additionaltorment. Every meeting began with, "My dear Mary, how did you sleep lastnight? Did you make a good breakfast this morning? I declare I think youlook a little pale. I'm sure I wish to goodness, you mayn't have gotcold--colds are going very much about just now--one of the maids in thishouse has a very bad cold--I hope you will remember to bathe your feetAnd take some water gruel to night, and do everything that Dr. Redgilldesires you, honest man!" If Mary absented herself for a day, hersalutation was, "My dear Mary, what became of you yesterday? I assure youI was quite miserable about you all day, thinking, which was quitenatural, that something was the matter with you; and I declare I neverclosed my eyes all night for thinking about you. I assure you if it hadnot been that I couldn't leave Sir Sampson, I would have taken a hackneycoach, although I know what impositions they are, and have gone to BeechPark to see what had come over you. "

Yet all this Mary bore with the patience of a martyr, to the admirationof Lady Maclaughlan and the amazement of Lady Emily, who declared shecould only submit to be bored as long as she was amused. 

On going to Milsom Street one morning Mary found her aunt in highdelight at two invitations she had just received for herself and herniece. 

"The one, " said she, "is to dinner at Mrs. Pullens's. You can't rememberher mother, Mrs. Macfuss, I daresay, Mary--she was a most excellentwoman, I assure you, and got all her daughters married. And I rememberMrs. Pullens when she was Flora Macfuss; she was always thought verylike her mother and Mr. Pullens is a most worthy man, and very rich andit was thought at the time a great marriage for Flora Macfuss, for shehad no money of her own, but her mother was a very clever woman, and amost excellent manager; and I daresay so is Mrs. Pullens, for theMacfusses are all famous for their management--so it will be a greatthing for you, you know, Mary, to be acquainted with Mrs. Pullens. "

Mary was obliged to break in upon the eulogium on Mrs. Pullens bynoticing the other card. This was a subject for still greatergratulation. 

"This, " said she, "is from Mrs. Bluemits, and it is for the same daywith Mrs. Pullens, only it is to tea, not to dinner. To be sure it willbe a great pity to leave Mrs. Pullens so soon; but then it would bea great pity not to go to Mrs. Bluemits's; for I've never seen her, andher aunt, Miss Shaw, would think it very odd if I was to go back to theHighlands without seeing Nancy Shaw, now Mrs. Bluemits; and at any rateI assure you we may think much of being asked, for she is a very cleverwoman, and makes it a point never to ask any but clever people to herhouse; so it's a very great honour to be asked. "

It was an honour Mary would fain have dispensed with. At another timeshe might have anticipated some amusement from such parties, but atpresent her heart was not tuned to the ridiculous, and she attempted todecline the invitations, and get her aunt to do the same; but she gaveup the point when she saw how deeply Grizzy's happiness for the timebeing was involved in these invitations, and she even consented toaccompany her, conscious, as Lady Maclaughlan said, that the poorcreature required a leading string, and was not fit to go alone. Theappointed day arrived, and Mary found herself in company with AuntGrizzy at the mansion of Mr. Pullens, the fortunate husband of the_ci-devant_ Miss Flora Macfuss; but as Grizzy is not the best ofbiographers, we must take the liberty of introducing this lady to theacquaintance of our reader. 

The domestic economy of Mrs. Pullens was her own theme, and the theme ofall her friends; and such was the zeal in promulgating her doctrines, and her anxiety to see them carried into effect, that she hadendeavoured to pass it into a law that no preserves could be eatable butthose preserved in her method; no hams could be good but those curedaccording to her receipt; no liquors drinkable but such as were madefrom the results of her experience; neither was it possible that anylinens could be white, or any flannels soft, or any muslins clear, unless after the manner practised in her laundry. By her own account shewas the slave of every servant within her door, for her life seemed tobe one unceasing labour to get everything done in her own way, to thevery blacking of Mr. Pullens's shoes, and the brushing of Mr. Pullens'scoat. But then these heroic acts of duty were more than repaid by thenoble consciousness of a life well spent. In her own estimation she wasone of the greatest characters that had ever lived; for, to use her ownwords, she passed nothing over--she saw everything done herself--shetrusted nothing to servants, etc. Etc. Etc. 

From the contemplation of these her virtues her face had acquired anexpression of complacency foreign to her natural temper; for, afterhaving scolded and slaved in the kitchen, she sat down to taste thefruits of her labours with far more elevated feelings of consciousvirtue than ever warmed the breast of a Hampden or a Howard; and whenshe helped Mr. Pullens to pie, made not by the cook, but by herself, itwas with an air of self-approbation that might have vied with that ofthe celebrated Jack Horner upon a similar occasion. In many cases theremight have been merit in Mrs. Pullens's doings---a narrow income, thecapricious taste of a sick or a cross husband, may exalt the meanestoffices which woman can render into acts of virtue, and even diffuse adignity around them; but Mr. Pullens was rich and good-natured, andwould have been happy had his cook been allowed to dress his dinner, andhis barber his wig, quietly in their own way. Mrs. Pullens, therefore, only sought the indulgence of her own low inclinations in thusinterfering in every menial department; while, at the same time, sheexpected all the gratitude and admiration that would have been due tothe sacrifice of the most refined taste and elegant pursuits. 

But "envy does merit as its shade pursue, " as Mrs Pullens experienced, for she found herself assailed by a host of housekeepers who attemptedto throw discredit on her various arts. At the head of this associationwas Mrs. Jekyll, whose arrangements were on a quite contrary plan. Thegreat branch of science on which Mrs. Pullens mainly relied for fame washer unrivalled art in keeping things long beyond the date assigned bynature; and one of her master-strokes was, in the middle of summer, tosurprise a whole company with gooseberry tarts made of gooseberries ofthe preceding year; and her triumph was complete when any of them wereso polite as to assert that they might have passed upon them for thefruits of the present season. Another art in which she flattered herselfshe was unrivalled was that of making things pass for what they werenot; thus, she gave pork for lamb--common fowls for turkeypoults--currant wine for champagne--whisky with peach leaves for noyau;but all these deceptions Mrs. Jekyll piqued herself immediatelydetecting, and never failed to point out the difference, and in thepolitest manner to hint her preference of the real over the spurious. Many were the wonderful morsels with which poor Mr. Pullens was regaled, but he had now ceased to be surprised at anything that appeared on hisown table; and he had so often heard the merit of his wife'shousekeeping extolled by herself that, contrary to his naturalconviction, he now began to think it must be true; or if he hadoccasionally any little private misgivings when he thought of the gooddinners he used to have in his bachelor days, he comforted himself bythinking that his lot was the lot of all married men who are blest withactive, managing, economical wives. Such were Mr. And Mrs. Pullens; andthe appearance of the house offered no inadequate idea of themistress. The furniture was incongruous, and everything wasill-matched--for Mrs. Pullens was a frequenter of sales, and, like manyother liberal-minded ladies, never allowed a bargain to pass, whether sherequired the articles or not. Her dress was the same; there was alwayssomething to wonder at; caps that had been bought for nothing, becausethey were a little soiled, but by being taken down and washed, and newtrimmed, turned out to be just as good as new gowns that had been dyed, turned, cleaned, washed, etc. ; and the great triumph was when nobodycould tell the old breadth from the new. 

The dinner was of course bad, the company stupid, and the conversationturned solely upon Mrs. Pullens's exploits, with occasional attempts ofMrs. Jekyll to depreciate the merits of some of her discoveries. Atlength the hour of departure arrived, to Mary's great relief, as shethought any change must be for the better. Not so Grizzy, who wascharmed and confounded by all she had seen, and heard, and tasted, andall of whose preconceived ideas on the subjects of washing, preserving, etc. , had sustained a total _bouleversement, _ upon hearing of thesuperior methods practised by Mrs. Pullens. 

"Well, certainly, Mary, you must allow Mrs. Pullens is an astonishingclever woman! Indeed, I think nobody can dispute it--only think of hernever using a bit of soap in her house--everything is washed by steam. To be sure, as Mrs Jekyll said, the table linen was remarkablyill-coloured--but no wonder, considering--it must be a great saving, I'msure--and she always stands and sees it done herself, for there's notrusting these things to servants. Once when she trusted it to them, they burned a dozen of Mr. Pullens's new shirts, just from carelessness, which I'm sure was very provoking. To be sure, as Mrs. Jekyll said, ifshe had used soap like other people that wouldn't have happened; andthen it is wonderful how well she contrives to keep things. I declare Ican't think enough of these green peas that we had at dinner todayhaving been kept since summer was a year. To be sure, as Mrs. Jekyllsaid, they certainly were hard--nobody can deny that--but then, youknow, anything would be hard that had been kept since summer was a year;and I'm sure I thought they ate wonderfully well considering--and thesered currants, too--I'm afraid you didn't taste them--I wish togoodness you had tasted them, Mary. They were sour and dry, certainly, asMrs. Jekyll said; but no wonder, anything would be sour and dry that hadbeen kept in bottles for three years. "

Grizzy was now obliged to change the current of her ideas, for thecarriage had stopped at Mrs. Bluemits's. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

"It is certain great knowledge, if it be without vanity, is the mostsevere bridle of the tongue. For so have I heard, that all the noisesand prating of the pool, the croaking of frogs and toads, is hushed andappeased upon the instant of bringing upon them the light of a candle ortorch. Every beam of reason, and ray of knowledge, checks thedissolutions of the tongue. "-JEREMY TAYLOR. 

THEY were received by Mrs. Bluemits with that air of condescensionwhich great souls practise towards ordinary mortals, and which isintended, at one and the same time, to encourage and to repel; to showthe extent of their goodness, even while they make, or try to make, their _protege_ feel the immeasurable distance which nature or fortunehas placed between them. 

It was with this air of patronising grandeur that Mrs. Bluemits tookher guests by the hand, and introduced them to the circle of femalesalready assembled. 

Mrs. Bluemits was not an avowed authoress; but she was a professedcritic, a well-informed woman, a woman of great conversational powers, etc. , and, to use her own phrase, nothing but conversation was spoken inher house. Her guests were therefore, always expected to bedistinguished, either for some literary production or for their taste inthe _belles lettres. _ Two ladies from Scotland, the land of poetry andromance, were consequently hailed as new stars in Mrs. Bluemits'shorizon. No sooner were they seated than Mrs. Bluemits began--

"As I am a friend to ease in literary society, we shall, withoutceremony, resume our conversation; for, as Seneca observes, the 'comfortof life depends upon conversation. '"

"I think, " said Miss Graves, "it is Rochefoucault who says, 'The greatart of conversation is to hear patiently and answer precisely. '"

"A very poor definition for so profound a philosopher, " remarked Mrs. Apsley. 

"The amiable author of what the gigantic Johnson styles the melancholyand angry "Night Thoughts, " gives a nobler, a more elevated, and, in myhumble opinion, a juster explication of the intercourse of mind, " saidMiss Parkins; and she repeated the following lines with pompousenthusiasm:--

 Speech ventilates our intellectual fire, Speech burnishes our mental magazine, Brightens for ornament, and whets for use. What numbers, sheath'd in erudition, lie, Plung'd to the hilts in venerable tomes, And rusted in, who might have borne an edge, And play'd a sprightly beam, if born to speech--- If born blest heirs of half their mother's tongue!"

Mrs. Bluemits proceeded:

 "'Tis thought's exchange, which, like the alternate push Of waves conflicting, breaks the learned scum, And defecates the student's standing pool. "

"The sensitive poet of Olney, if I mistake not, " said Mrs. Dalton, "steers a middle course, betwixt the somewhat bald maxim of the Parisianphilosopher and the mournful pruriency of the Bard of Night, when hesays, 'Conversation, in its better part, May be esteem'd a gift, and not an art. '"

Mary had been accustomed to read, and to reflect upon what she read, andto apply it to the purpose for which it is valuable, viz. In enlargingher mind and cultivating her taste; but she had never been accustomed toprate, or quote, or sit down for the express purpose of displaying heracquirements; and she began to tremble at hearing authors' names"familiar in their mouths as household words;" but Grizzy, strong inignorance, was no wise daunted. True, she heard what she could notcomprehend, but she thought she would soon make things clear; and shetherefore turned to her neighbour on her righthand, and accosted herwith--"My niece and I are just come from dining at Mrs. Pullens's--Idaresay you have heard of her--she was Miss Flora Macfuss; her father, Dr. Macfuss, was a most excellent preacher, and she is a remarkableclever woman. "

"Pray, ma'am, has she come out, or is she simply _bel esprit?_"inquired the lady. 

Grizzy was rather at a loss; and, indeed, to answer a question put in anunknown language, would puzzle wiser brains than hers; but Grizzy wasaccustomed to converse without being able to comprehend, and shetherefore went on. 

"Her mother, Mrs. Macfuss--but she is dead--was a very clever woman too;I'm sure I declare I don't know whether the Doctor or her was thecleverest; but many people, I know, think Mrs. Pullens beats them both. "

"Indeed! may I ask in what department she chiefly excels?"

"Oh, I really think in everything. For one thing, everything in herhouse is done by steam; and then she can keep everything, I can't tellhow long, just in paper bags and bottles; and she is going to publish abook with all her receipts in it. I'm sure it will be very interesting. "

"I beg ten thousand pardons for the interruption, " cried Mrs. Bluemitsfrom the opposite side of the room; "but my ear was smote with thesounds of _publish, _ and _interesting, --words _which never fail toawaken a responsive chord in my bosom. Pray, " addressing Grizzy, andbringing her into the full blaze of observation, "may I ask, was it of_the_ Campbell these electric words were spoken? To you, Madam, I amsure I need not apologise for my enthusiasm--you who claim the prouddistinction of being a country woman, need I ask--an acquaintance?"

All that poor Grizzy could comprehend of this harangue was that it wasreckoned a great honour to be acquainted with a Campbell; and chucklingwith delight at the idea of her own consequence, she briskly replied--

"Oh, I know plenty of Campbells; there's the Campbells of Mireside, relations of ours; and there's the Campbells of Blackbrae, married intoour family; and there's the Campbells of Windlestrae Glen, are not verydistant by my mother's side. "

Mary felt as if perforated by bullets in all directions, as sheencountered the eyes of the company, turned alternately upon her auntand her; but they were on opposite sides of the room; therefore tointerpose betwixt Grizzy and her assailants was impossible. 

"Possibly, " suggested Mrs. Dalton, "Miss Douglas prefers the loftierstrains of the mighty Minstrel of the Mountains to the more polishedperiods of the Poet of the Transatlantic Plain. "

"Without either a possibility or a perhaps, " said Mrs. Apsley, "theprobability is, Miss Douglas prefers the author of the 'Giaour' to allthe rest of her poetical countrymen. Where, in either Walter Scott orThomas Campbell, will you find such lines as these;--

 'Wet with their own best blood, shall drip Thy gnashing tooth and haggard lip!'"

"Pardon me, madam, " said Miss Parkin; "but I am of opinion you havescarcely given a fair specimen of the powers of the Noble Bard inquestion. The image here presented is a familiar one; 'the gnashingtooth' and 'haggard lip' we have all witnessed, perhaps some of us mayeven have experienced. There is consequently little merit in presentingit to the mind's eye. It is easy, comparatively speaking, to portray thefeelings and passions of our own kind. We have only, as Dryden expressesit, to descend into ourselves to find the secret imperfections of ourmind. It is therefore in his portraiture of the canine race that theillustrious author has so far excelled all his contemporaries--in fact, he has given quite a dramatic cast to his dogs, " and she repeated, withan air of triumph--

 "And he saw the lean dogs beneath the wall, Hold o'er the dead their carnival; Gorging and growling o'er carcase and limb, They were too busy to bark at him! From a Tartar's skull they had stripped the flesh, As ye peel the fig when its fruit is fresh; And their white tusks crunched o'er the whiter skull, As it slipped through their jaws when their edge grew dull; As they lazily mumbled the bones of the dead, When they scarce could rise from the spot where they fed. "

"Now, to enter into the conception of a dog--to embody one's self, as itwere, in the person of a brute--to sympathise in its feelings--to makeits propensities our own--to 'lazily mumble the bones of the dead, ' withour own individual 'white tusks'! Pardon me, madam, but with all duedeference to the genius of a Scott, it is a thing he has not dare toattempt. Only the finest mind in the universe as capable of taking sobold a flight. Scott's dogs, madam, are tame, domestic animals--merehuman dogs, if I may say so. Byron's dogs--But let them speak forthemselves!

 'The scalps were in the wild dog's maw, The hair was tangled round his jaw. '

Show me, if you can, such an image in Scott?"

"Very fine, certainly!" was here uttered by five novices, who were onlythere as probationers, consequently not privileged to go beyond aresponse. 

"Is it the dancing dogs they are speaking about?" asked Grizzy. Butlooks of silent contempt were the only replies she received. 

"I trust I shall not be esteemed presumptuous, " said Miss Graves, "orsupposed capable of entertaining views of detracting from the merits ofthe Noble Author at present under discussion, if I humbly but firmlyenter my caveat against the word 'crunch, ' as constituting an innovationin our language, the purity of which cannot be too strictly preserved orpointedly enforced. I am aware that by some I may be deemedunnecessarily fastidious; and possibly Christina, Queen of Sweden, mighthave applied to me the celebrated observation, said to have beenelicited from her by the famed work of the laborious FrenchLexicographer, viz. That he was the most troublesome person in theworld, for he required of every word to produce its passport, and todeclare whence it came and whither it was going. I confess, I too, forthe sake of my country, would wish that every word we use might becompelled to show its passport, attested by our great lawgiver, Dr. Samuel Johnson. "

"Unquestionably, " said Mrs. Bluemits, "purity of language ought to bepreserved inviolate at any price; and it is more especially incumbent tothose who exercise a sway over our minds--those are, as it were, themoulds in which our young imaginations are formed, to be the watchfulguardians of our language. But I lament to say that in fact it is not so;and that the aberrations of our vernacular tongue have proceeded solelyfrom the licentious use made of it by those whom we are taught toreverence as the fathers of the Sock and Lyre. "

"Yet in familiar colloquy, I do not greatly object to the use of a wordoccasionally, even although unsanctioned by the authority of our mightyLexicographer, " said a new speaker. 

"For my part, " said Miss Parkins, "a genius fettered by rules alwaysreminds me of Gulliver in the hairy bonds of the Lilliputians; and thesentiment of the elegant and enlightened bard of Twickenham is alsomine--

 'Great wits sometimes may glorious offend, And rise to faults true critics dare not mend; From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And match a grace beyond the reach of art. '

So it is with the subject of our argument: a tamer genius than theillustrious Byron would not have dared to 'crunch' the bone. But where, in the whole compass of the English language, will you find a wordcapable of conveying the same idea?"

"Pick, " modestly suggested one of the novices in a low key, hoping togain some celebrity by this her first effort; but this dawn of intellectpassed unnoticed. 

The argument was now beginning to run high; parties were evidentlyforming of crunchers and anticrunchers, and etymology was beginning tobe called for, when a thundering knock at the door caused a cessation ofhostilities. 

"That, I flatter myself, is my friend Miss Griffon, " said Mrs. Bluemits, with an air of additional importance; and the name was whispered roundthe circle, coupled with "Celebrated Authoress--'Fevers of the Heart'--'Thoughts of the Moment, '" etc. Etc. 

"Is she a _real_ authoress that is coming?" asked Miss Grizzy at thelady next her. And her delight was great at receiving an answer in theaffirmative; for Grizzy thought to be in company with an authoress wasthe next thing to being an authoress herself; and, like some otherpeople, she had a sort of vague mysterious reverence for everyone whosewords had been printed in a book. 

"Ten thousand thousand pardons, dearest Mrs. Bluemits!" exclaimed MissGriffon, as she entered. "I fear a world of intellect is lost to me bythis cruel delay. " Then in an audible whisper--"But I was detained bymy publisher. He quite persecutes me to write. My 'Fevers of the Heart'has had a prodigious run; and even my 'Thoughts, ' which, in fact, costme no thought, are amazingly _recherché. _ And I actually had toforce my way to you to-night through a legion of printer's devils, whowere lying in wait for me with each a sheet of my 'Billows of Love. '"

"The title is most musical, most melancholy, " said Mrs. Bluemits, "andconveys a perfect idea of what Dryden terms 'the sweeping deluge of thesoul;' but I flatter myself we shall have something more than a namefrom Miss Griffon's genius. The Aonian graces, 'tis well known, alwaysfollow in her train. "

"They have made a great hole in it then, " said Grizzy, officiouslydisplaying a fracture in the train of Miss Griffon's gown, and fromthence taking occasion to deliver her sentiments on the propriety ofpeople who tore gowns always being obliged to mend them. 

After suitable entreaties had been used, Miss Griflon was at lastprevailed upon to favour the company, with some specimens of the"Billows of Love" (of which we were unable to procure copies) and thefollowing sonnet, the production of a friend;--

 "Hast thou no note for joy, thou weeping lyre? Doth yew and willow ever shade thy string And melancholy sable banners fling, Warring 'midst hosts of elegant desire? How vain the strife--how vain the warlike gloom! Love's arms are grief--his arrows sighs and tears; And every moan thou mak'st, an altar rears, To which his worshippers devoutly come. Then rather, lyre, I pray thee, try thy skill, In varied measure, on a sprightlier key: Perchance thy gayer tones' light minstrelsy May heal the poison that thy plaints distil. But much I fear that joy is danger still; And joy, like woe, love's triumph must fulfil. "

This called forth unanimous applause--"delicate imagery"--"smoothversification" --"classical ideas"--"Petrarchian sweetness, " etc. Etc. , resounded from all quarters. 

But even intellectual joys have their termination, and carriages andservants began to be announced in rapid succession. 

"Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour, " said Mrs. Bluemits to the first ofher departing guests, as the clock struck ten. 

"It is gone, with its thorns and its roses, " replied er friend with asigh, and a farewell pressure of the hand. 

Another now advanced--"Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day. "

"I have less will to go than care to stay, " was the reply. 

"_Parta ti lascio adio, _" warbled Miss Parkins. 

"I vanish, " said Mrs. Apsley, snatching up her tippet, reticule, etc. , "and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave not a wreck behind. "

"Fare-thee-well at once--Adieu, adieu, adieu, remember me!" cried thelast of the band, as she slowly retreated. 

Mrs. Bluemits waved her hand with a look of tender reproach, as sherepeated--

 "An adieu should in utterance die, Or, if written, should faintly appear-- Should be heard in the sob of a sigh, Or be seen in the blot of a teal. "

"I'm sure, Mary, " said Grizzy, when they were in the carriage, "Iexpected, when all the ladies were repeating, that you would haverepeated something too. You used to have the Hermit and all Watts'sHymns by heart, when you was little. It's a thousand pities, I declare, that you should have forgot them; for I declare I was quite affronted tosee you sitting like a stick, and not saying a word, when all the ladieswere speaking and turning up their eyes, and moving their hands soprettily; but I'm sure I hope next time you go to Mrs. Bluemits's youwill take care to learn something by heart before you go. I'm sure Ihaven't a very good memory, but I remember some things; and I was verynear going to repeat 'Farewell to Lochaber' myself, as we were comingaway; and I'm sure I wish to goodness I had done it; but I suppose itwouldn't do to go back now; and at any rate all the ladies are away, andI dare say the candles will be out by this time. "

Mary felt it a relief to have done with this surfeit of soul, and was ofopinion that learning, like religion, ought never to be forced intoconversation; and that people who only read to talk of their readingmight as well let it alone. Next morning she gave so ludicrous anaccount of her entertainment that Lady Emily was quite charmed. 

"Now I begin to have hopes of you, " said she, "since I see you can laughat your friends as well as me. "

"Not at my friends, I hope, " answered Mary; "only at folly. "

"Call it what you will--I only wish I had been there. I should certainlyhave started a controversy upon the respective merits of Tom Thumb andPuss in Boots, and so have called them off Lord Byron. Their pretendingto measure the genius of a Scott or a Byron must have been somethinglike a fly attempting to take the altitude of Mont Blanc. How I detestthose idle disquisitions about the colour of a goat's beard, or theblood of an oyster. "'

Mary had seen in Mrs. Douglas the effects of a highly cultivatedunderstanding shedding its mild radiance on the path of domestic life, heightening its charms, and softening its asperities, with the benignspirit of Christianity. Her charity was not like that of Mrs. Fox; shedid not indulge herself in the purchase of elegant ornaments, and then, seated in the easy chair of her drawing-room, extort from her visitorsmoney to satisfy the wants of those who had claims on her own bounty. No: she gave a large portion of her time, her thoughts, her fortune, to the most sacred of all duties--charity, in its most comprehensivemeaning. Neither did her knowledge, like that of Mrs. Bluemits, evaporate in pedantic discussion or idle declamation, but showed itselfin the tenor of a well-spent life, and in the graceful discharge ofthose duties which belonged to her sex and station. Next to goodnessMary most ardently admired talents. She knew there were many of her ownsex who were justly entitled to the distinction of literary fame. Herintroduction to the circle at Mrs. Bluemits's had disappointed her; butthey were mere pretenders to the name. How different from thosedescribed by one no less amiable and enlightened herself!--"Let suchwomen as are disposed to be vain of their comparatively pettyattainments look up with admiration to those contemporary shiningexamples, the venerable Elizabeth Carter and the blooming ElizabethSmith. In them let our young ladies contemplate profound and variouslearning, chastised by true Christian humility. In them let themvenerate acquirements which would have been distinguished in auniversity, meekly softened, and beautifully shaded by the exertion ofevery domestic virtue, the unaffected exercise of every feminineemployment. " [1]

[1] "Coelebs. "

CHAPTER XXXI. 

 "The gods, to curse Pamela with her pray'rs, Gave the gilt coach and dappled Flanders mares; The shining robes, rich jewels, beds of state, And, to complete her bliss, a fool for mate. She glares in balls, front boxes, and the ring-- A vain, unquiet, glitt'ring, wretched thing! Pride, pomp, and state, but reach her outward part; She sighs, and is no duchess at her heart. "

 POPE

FOR many months Mary was doomed to experience all the vicissitudes ofhope and fear, as she heard of battles and sieges in which her lover hada part. He omitted no opportunity of writing to her; but scarcely hadshe received the assurance of his safety from himself when herapprehensions were again excited by rumours of fresh dangers he wouldhave to encounter; and it required all her pious confidence and strengthof mind to save her from yielding to the despondency of anaturally sensitive heart. But in administering to the happiness ofothers she found the surest alleviation to the misfortune thatthreatened herself; and she often forgot her own cares in her benevolentexertions for the poor, the sick, and the desolate. It was then she feltall the tenderness of that divine precept which enjoins love of theCreator as the engrossing principle of the soul. For, oh! theunutterable anguish that heart must endure which lavishes all its bestaffections on a creature mutable and perishable as itself, from whom athousand accidents may separate or estrange it, and from whom death mustone day divide it! Yet there is something so amiable, so exalting, inthe fervour of a pure and generous attachment, that few have been ableto resist its overwhelming influence; and it is only time and sufferingthat can teach us to comprehend the miseries that wait on the excess, even of our virtuous inclinations, where these virtues aspire not beyondthis transitory scene. 

Mary seldom heard from her mother or sister. Their time was too preciousto be wasted on dull country correspondents; but she saw their namesfrequently mentioned in the newspapers, and she flattered herself, fromthe éclat with whioh the Duchess seemed to be attended, that shehad found happiness in those pleasures where she had been taught toexpect it. The Duchess was indeed surrounded with all that rank, wealth, and fashion could bestow. She had the finest house, jewels, andequipages in London, but she was not happy. She felt the draught bitter, even though the goblet that held it was of gold. It is novelty only thatcan lend charms to things in themselves valueless; and when that wearsoff, the disenchanted baubles appear in all their native worthlessness. There is even a satiety in the free indulgence of wealth, when thatindulgence centres solely in self, and brings no general self-approvingreflections along with it. So it was with the Duchess of Altamont. Shesought, in the gratification of every expensive whim, to stimulate thelanguid sense of joy; and, by loading herself with jewels, she strove tostill the restless inquietude of a dissatisfied heart. But it is onlythe vulgar mind which can long find enjoyment in the mere attributes ofwealth--in the contemplation of silk hangings, and gilded chairs, andsplendid dresses, and showy equipages. Amidst all these the mind of anytaste or refinement, "distrusting, asks if this be joy. " And Adelaidepossessed both taste and refinement, though her ideas had been pervertedand her heart corrupted by the false maxims early instilled into her. Yet, selfish and unfeeling as she was, she sickened at the eternalrecurrence of self-indulged caprices; and the bauble that had beenhailed with delight the one day as a charmed amulet to dispel her ennui, was the next beheld with disgust or indifference. She believed, indeed, that she had real sources of vexation in the self-will and obstinacy ofher husband, and that, had he been otherwise than he was, she shouldthen have been completely happy. She would not acknowledge, even toherself, that she had done wrong in marrying a man whose person wasdisagreeable to her, and whose understanding she despised; while herpreference was decidedly in favour of another. Even her style of lifewas in some respects distasteful to her; yet she was obliged to conformto it. The Duke retained exactly the same notions of things as had takenpossession of his brain thirty years before; consequently everything inhis establishment was conducted with a regularity and uniformity unknownto those whose habits are formed on the more eccentric models of thepresent day; or rather, who have no models save those of their owncapricious tastes and inclinations. He had an antipathy to balls, concerts, and masquerades; for he did not dance, knew nothing of music, and stil less of _badinage. _ But he liked great dull dinners, for therethe conversation was generally adapted to his capacity; and it was apleasure to him to arrange the party--to look over the bill of fare--tosee all the family plate displayed--and to read an account of the granddinner at the Duke of Altamont's in the "Morning Post" of the followingday. All this sounds very vulgar for the pastimes of a Duke; but thereare vulgar-minded Dukes as there are gifted ploughmen, or any otheranomalies. The former Duchess, a woman of high birth, similar years, andkindred spirit of his own in all matters of form and _etiquette, _ washis standard of female propriety; and she would have deemed it highlyderogatory to her dignity to have patronised any other species ofentertainment than grand dinners and dull assemblies. 

Adelaide had attempted with a high hand at once to overturn the wholesystem of Altamont House, and had failed. She had declared herdetestation of dinners, and been heard in silence. She had kept her roomthrice when they were given, but without success. She had insisted upongiving a ball, but the Duke, with the most perfect composure, hadperemptorily declared it must be an assembly. Thus baffled in all herplans of domestic happiness, the Duchess would have sought her pleasureselsewhere. She would have lived anywhere but in her own house associatedwith everybody but her own husband and done everything but what she hadvowed to do. But even in this she was thwarted. The Duke had the sameprecise formal notions of a lady's conduct abroad, as well as herappearance at home; and the very places she would have most wished to goto were those she was expressly prohibited from ever appearing at. 

Even all that she could have easily settled to her own satisfaction bythe simple apparatus of a separate establishment carried on in the samehouse; but here too she was foiled, for his Grace had stubborn notionson that score also, and plainly hinted that any separation must be finaland decided; and Adelaide could not yet resolve upon taking soformidable a step in the first year of her marriage. She was thereforecompelled to drag the chain by which, with her own will, she had boundherself for life to one she already despised and detested. And bound shewas, in the strictest sense of the metaphor; for, though the Duke hadnot the smallest pleasure in the society of his wife, he yet attachedgreat ideas of propriety to their being always seen together, side byside. Like his sister, Lady Matilda, he had a high reverence forappearances, though he had not her _finesse _in giving them effect. Hehad merely been accustomed to do what he thought looked well, and gavehim an air of additional dignity. He had married Aidelaide because hethought she had a fine presence, and would look well as Duchess ofAltamont; and, for the same reason, now that she was his wedded wife, hethought it looked well to be seen always together. He therefore made apoint of having no separate engagements; and even carried his sense ofpropriety so far, that as regularly as the Duchess's carriage came tothe door the Duke was prepared to hand her in, in due form, and take hisstation by her side. This alone would have been sufficient to haveembittered Adelaide's existence, and she had tried every expedient, butin vain, to rid herself of this public display of conjugal duty. She hadopened her landaulet in cold weather, and shut it, even to the glasses, in a scorching sun; but the Duke was insensible to heat and cold. He wasmost provokingly healthy; and she had not even the respite which anattack of rheumatism or toothache would have afforded. As his Grace wasnot a person of keen sensation, this continual effort to keep upappearances cost him little or nothing; but to the Duchess's nicer tactit was martyrdom to be compelled to submit to the semblance of affectionwhere there was no reality. Ah, nothing but a sense of duty, earlyinstilled and practically enforced, can reconcile a refined mind to thepainful task of bearing with meekness and gentleness the ill-temper, adverse will, and opposite sentiments of those with whom we canacknowledge no feeling in common!

But Adelaide possessed no sense of duty, and was a stranger toself-command; and though she boasted refinement of mind, yet it was ofthat spurious sort which, far from elevating and purifying the heart, tends only to corrupt and debase the soul, while it sheds a false anddazzling lustre upon those perishable graces which captivate the senses. 

It may easily be imagined the good sense of the mother did not tend tosoothe the irritated feelings of the daughter. Lady Juliana was indeedquite as much exasperated as the Duchess at these obstacles thrown inthe way of her pleasures, and the more so as she could not quite clearlycomprehend them. The good-nature of her husband and the easy indolenceof her brother even _her _folly had enabled her, on many occasions, toget the better of; but the obstinacy of her son-in-law was invincible toall her arts. She could therefore only wonder to the Duchess how shecould not manage to get the better of the Duke's prejudices againstballs and concerts and masquerades. It was so excessively ridiculous, soperfectly foolish, not to do as other people did; and there was theDuchess of Ryston gave Sunday concerts, and Lady Oakham saw masks, andeven old ugly Lady Loddon had a ball, and the Prince at it! How vastlyprovoking! how unreasonable in a man of the Duke's years to expect agirl like Adelaide to conform to all his old-fashioned notions! And thenshe would wisely appeal to Lord Lindore whether it was not too absurd inthe Duke to interfere with the Duchess's arrangements. 

Lord Lindore was a frequent visitor at Altamont House; for the Duke, satisfied with his having been once refused, was no wise jealous of him;and Lord Lindore was too quiet and refined in his attentions to excitethe attention of anyone so stupid and obtuse. It was not the least ofthe Duchess's mortifications to be constantly contrasting her formerlover--elegant, captivating, and _spirituel--_with her husband, awkward, insipid, and dull, as the fat weed that rots on Lethe's shore. LordLindore was indeed the most admired man in London, celebrated for hisconquests, his horses, his elegance, manner, dress; in short, ineverything he gave the tone. But he had too much taste to carry anythingto extreme; and in the midst of incense, and adulation, and imitation, he still retained that simple unostentatious elegance that marks the manof real fashion--the man who feels his own consequence, independent ofall extraneous modes or fleeting fashions. 

There is, perhaps, nothing so imposing, nothing that carries a greatersway over a mind of any refinement, than simplicity, when we feelassured that it springs from a genuine contempt of show and ostentation. Lord Lindore was aware of this, and he did not attempt to vie with theDuke of Altamont in the splendour of his equipage, the richness of hisliveries, the number of his attendants, or any of those previousattractions attractions; on the contrary, everything belonging to himwas of the plainest description; and, except in the beauty of hishorses, he seemed to scorn every species of extravagance; but then herode with so much elegance, he drove his curricle with such gracefulease, as formed a striking contrast to the formal Duke, sittingbolt-upright in his state chariot, _chapeau bras, _ and star; and theDuchess often quitted the Park, where Lord Lindore was the admired ofall admirers, mortified and ashamed at being seen in the same carriagewith the man she had chosen for her husband. Ambition had led her tomarry the Duke, and that same passion now heightened her attachment forLord Lindore; for, as some one has remarked, ambition is not always thedesire for that which is in itself excellent, but for that which is mostprized by others; and the handsome Lord Lindore was courted and caressedin circles where the dull, precise Duke of Altamont was whollyoverlooked. Months passed in this manner, and every day added somethingto Adelaide's feelings of chagrin and disappointment. But it was stillworse when she found herself settled for a long season at Norwood Abbeya dull, magnificent residence, with a vast unvaried park, a profusion ofsombre trees, and a sheet of stillwater, decorated with leaden deities. Within doors everything was in the same style of vapid, tastelessgrandeur, and the society was not such as to dispel the ennui theseimages served to create. Lady Matilda Sufton, her satellite Mrs. Finch, General Carver, and a few stupid elderly lords and their well-bredladies comprised the family circle; and the Duchess experienced, withbitterness of spirit, that "rest of heart, and pleasure felt at home, "are blessings wealth cannot purchase nor greatness command; while shesickened at the stupid, the almost _vulgar_ magnificence of her lot. 

At this period Lord Lindore arrived on a visit, and the daily, hourlycontrast that occurred betwixt the elegant, impassioned lover, and thedull, phlegmatic husband, could not fail of producing the usualeffects on an unprincipled mind. Rousseau and Goethe were studied, Frenchand German sentiments were exchanged, till criminal passion was exaltedinto the purest of all earthly emotions. It were tedious to dwell uponthe minute, the almost imperceptible occurrences that tended to heightenthe illusion of passion, and throw an air of false dignity around thedegrading spells of vice; but so it was, that in something less than ayear from the time of her marriage, this victim of self-indulgence againsought her happiness in the gratification of her own headstrongpassions, and eloped with Lord Lindore, vainly hoping to find peace andjoy amid guilt and infamy. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

"On n'est guères obligé aux gens qui ne nous viennentvoir, que pour nous quereller, qui pendant toute une visite, ne nousdisent pas une seule parole obligeante, et qui se font un plaisir malind'attaquer notre conduite, et de nous faire entrevoir nosdéfauts. " -- L' ABBE Dé BELLEGARDE. 

THE Duke, although not possessed of the most delicate feelings, it maybe supposed was not insensible to his dishonour. He immediately setabout taking the legal measures for avenging it; and damages wereawarded, which would have the effect of rendering Lord Lindore for everan alien to his country. Lady Juliana raved, and had hysterics, andseemed to consider herself as the only sufferer by her daughter'smisconduct. At one time Adelaide's ingratitude was all her theme: atanother, it was Lord Lindore's treachery, and poor Adelaide waseverything that was amiable and injured: then it was the Duke'sobstinacy; for, had Adelaide got leave to do as she liked, this neverwould have happened; had she only got leave to give balls, and to go tomasquerades, she would have made the best wife in the world, etc. Etc. Etc. 

All this was warmly resented by Lady Matilda, supported by Mrs. Finchand General Carver, till open hostilities were declared between theladies, and Lady Juliana was compelled to quit the house she had lookedupon as next to her own, and became once more a denizen of Beech Park. 

Mary's grief and horror at her sister's misconduct were proportioned tothe nature of the offence. She considered it not as how it might affectherself, or would be viewed by the world, but as a crime committedagainst the law of God; yet, while she the more deeply deplored it onthat account, no bitter words of condemnation passed her lips. Shethought with humility of the superior advantages she had enjoyed inhaving principles of religion early and deeply engrafted in her soul;and that, but for these, such as her sister's fate was, hers might havebeen. 

She felt for her mother, undeserving as she was of commiseration; andstrove by every means in her power to promote her comfort and happiness. But that was no easy task. Lady Juliana's notions of comfort andhappiness differed as widely from those of her daughter as reason andfolly could possibly do. She was indeed "than folly more a fool--amelancholy fool without her bells. " She still clung to low earth-bornvanities with as much avidity as though she had never experienced theirinsecurity; still rung the same changes on the joys of wealth andgrandeur, as if she had had actual proof of their unfading felicity. Then she recurred to the Duke's obstinacy and Lord Lindore's artifices, till, after having exhausted herself in invective against them, sheconcluded by comforting herself with the hope that Lord Lindore andAdelaide would marry; and although it would be a prodigious degradationto her, and she could not be received at Court, she might yet get intovery good society in town. There were many women of high rank exactly inthe same situation, who had been driven to elope from their husbands, and who married the men they liked and made the best wives in the world. 

Mary heard all this in shame and silence; but Lady Emily, wearied andprovoked by her folly and want of principle, was often led to expressher indignation and and contempt in terms which drew tears from hercousin's eyes. Mary was indeed the only person in the world who felt hersister's dereliction with the keenest feelings of shame and sorrow. AllAdelaide's coldness and unkindness had not been able to eradicate fromher heart those deep-rooted sentiments of affection which seem to havebeen entwined with our existence, and which, with some generous natures, end but with their being. Yes! there are ties that bind together thoseof one family, stronger than those of taste, or choice, or friendship, or reason; for they enable us to love, even in opposition to them all. 

It was understood the fugitives had gone to Germany; and after wonderand scandal were exhausted, and a divorce obtained, the Duchess ofAltamont, except to her own family, was as though she had never been. Such is the transition from--from guilt to insignificance!

Amongst the numerous visitors who flocked to Beech Park, whether fromsympathy, curiosity, or exultation, was Mrs. Downe Wright. None of thesemotives, singly, had brought that lady there, for her purpose was thatof giving what she genteelly termed some _good hits_ to the Douglas'spride--a delicate mode of warfare, in which, it must be owned, thefemale sex greatly excel. 

Mrs. Downe Wright had not forgiven the indignity of her son havingbeen refused by Mary, which she imputed entirely to Lady Emily'sinfluence, and had from that moment predicted the downfall of the wholepack, as she styled the family; at the same time always expressing herwish that she might be mistaken, as she wished them well--God knows shebore them no ill-will, etc. She entered the drawing-room at Beech Parkwith a countenance cast to a totally different expression from that withwhich she had greeted Lady Matilda Sufton's widowhood. Melancholy wouldthere have been appropriate, here it was insulting; and accordingly, with downcast eyes, and silent pressures of the hand, she saluted everymember of the family, and inquired after their healths with that air ofanxious solicitude which implied that if they were all well it was whatthey ought not to be. Lady Emily's quick tact was presently aware of herdesign, and she prepared to take the field against her. 

"I had some difficulty in getting admittance to you, " said Mrs. Downe Wright. "The servant would fain have denied you; but at such atime, I knew the visit of a friend could not fail of being acceptable, so I made good my way in spite of him. "

"I had given orders to be at home to friends only, " returned Lady Emily, "as there is no end to the inroads of acquaintances. "

"And poor Lady Juliana, " said Mrs. Downe Wright in a tone of affectedsympathy, "I hope she is able to see her friends?"

"Did you not meet her?" asked Lady Emily carelessly. "She is just goneto Bath for the purpose of securing a box during the term of Kean'sengagement; she would not trust to _l'éloquence du billet_ uponsuch an occasion. "

"I'm vastly happy to hear she is able for anything of the kind, " in atone of vehement and overstrained joy, rather unsuitable to theoccasion. 

A well-feigned look of surprise from Lady Emily made her fear she hadovershot her mark; she therefore, as if from delicacy, changed theconversation to her own affairs. She soon contrived to let it be knownthat her son was going to be married to a Scotch Earl's daughter; thatshe was to reside with them; and that she had merely come to Bath forthe purpose of letting her house--breaking up her establishment--packingup her plate--and, in short, making all those magnificent arrangementswhich wealthy dowagers usually have to perform on a change of residence. At the end of this triumphant declaration, she added--

"I fain would have the young people live by themselves, and let me justgo on in my own way; but neither my son nor Lady Grace would hear ofthat, although her family are my son's nearest neighbours, and mostsensible, agreeable people they are. Indeed, as I said to LordGlenallan, a man's happiness depends fully as much upon his wife'sfamily as upon herself. "

Mary was too noble-minded to suspect that Mrs. Downe Wright could intendto level innuendoes; but the allusion struck her; she felt herselfblush; and, fearful Mrs. Downe Wright would attribute it to a wrongmotive, she hastened to join in the eulogium on the Benmavis family ingeneral, and Lady Grace in particular. 

"Lady Benmavis is, indeed, a sensible, well-principled woman, and herdaughters have been all well brought up. "

Again Mary coloured at the emphasis which marked the sensible, well-principled mother, and the well brought-up daughters; and in someconfusion she said something about Lady Grace's beauty. 

"She certainly is a very pretty woman, " said Mrs. Downe Wright withaffected carelessness; "but what is better, she is out of a good nest. For my own part I place little value upon beauty now; commend me toprinciples. If a woman is without principles the less beauty she has thebetter. "

"If a woman has no principles, " said Lady Emily, "I don't think itsignifies a straw whether she has beauty or not--ugliness can never addto one's virtue. "

"I beg your pardon, Lady Emily; a plain woman will never make herself soconspicuous in the world as one of your beauties. "

"Then you are of opinion wickedness lies all in the eye of the world, not in the depths of the heart? Now I think the person who cherishes--nomatter how secretly--pride, envy, hatred, malice, or any other besettingsin, must be quite as criminal in the sight of God as those who openlyindulge their evil propensity. "

"I go very much by outward actions, " said Mrs. Downe Wright; "they areall we have to judge by. "

"But I thought we were forbidden to judge one another?"

"There's no shutting people's mouths, Lady Emily. "

"No; all that is required, I believe, is that we should shut our own. "

Mary thought the conversation was getting rather too _piquante_ to bepleasant, and tried to soften the tone of it by asking that mostinnocent question, Whether there was any news?

"Nothing but about battles and fightings, I suppose, " answered Mrs. Downe Wright. "I'm sure they are to be pitied who have friends orrelations either in army or navy at present. I have reason to bethankful my son is in neither. He was very much set upon going into oneor other; but I was always averse to it; for, independent of the danger, they are professions that spoil a man for domestic life; they lead tosuch expensive, dissipated habits, as quite ruin them for family men. Inever knew a military man but what must have his bottle of port everyday. With sailors, indeed, it's still worse; grog and tobacco soondestroy them. I'm sure if I had a daughter it would make me miserable ifshe was to take fancy to a naval or military man;--but, " as if suddenlyrecollecting herself, "after all, perhaps it's a mere prejudice ofmine. "

"By no means, " said Lady Emily "there is no prejudice in the matter;what you say is very true. They are to be envied who can contrive to fallin love with a stupid, idle man: _they_ never can experience anyanxiety; _their_ fate is fixed; 'the waveless calm, the slumber of thedead, ' is theirs; as long as they can contrive to slumber on, or atleast to keep their eyes shut, 'tis very well, they are in no danger ofstumbling till they come to open them; and if they are sufficientlystupid themselves there is no danger of their doing even that. The haveonly to copy the owl, and they are safe. "

"I quite agree with your Ladyship, " said Mrs. Downe Wright, with a well_got-up, _ good-humoured laugh. "A woman has only not to be a wit or agenius, and there is no fear of her; not that _I_ have that antipathy toa clever woman that many people have, and especially the gentlemen. Ialmost quarrelled with Mr. Headley, the great author, t'other day, forsaying that he would rather encounter a nest of wasps than a cleverwoman. "

"I should most cordially have agreed with him, " said Lady Emily, withequal _naïveté. _ "There is nothing more insupportable thanone of your clever women, so called. They are generally under-bred, consequently vulgar. They pique themselves upon saying good things_côitte qu'il coûte. _ There is something, in short, quiteprofessional about them; and they wouldn't condescend to chat nonsenseas you and I are doing at this moment--oh! not for worlds! Now, I thinkone of the great charms of life consists in talking nonsense. Goodnonsense is an exquisite thing; and 'tis an exquisite thing to be stupidsometimes, and to say nothing at all. Now, these enjoyments the cleverwoman must forego. Clever she is, and clever she must be. Her life mustbe a greater drudgery than that of any actress. _She_ merely frets herhour upon the stage; the curtain dropped, she may become as dull as shechooses; but the clever woman must always stage it, even at her ownfireside. "

"Lady Emily Lindore is certainly the last person from whom I should haveexpected to hear a panegyric on stupidity, " said Mrs. Downe Wright, withsome bitterness. 

"Stupidity!--oh, heavens! my blood curdles at the thought of real, genuine, downright stupidity! No! I should always like to have thecommand of intellect, as well as of money, though my taste, or myindolence, or my whim, perhaps, never would incline me to be alwayssparkling, whether in wit or in diamonds. 'Twas only when I was in thenursery that I envied the good girl who spoke rubies and pearls. Now itseems to me only just better than not spitting toads and vipers. " Andshe warbled a sprightly French _ariette_ to a tame bullfinch that flewupon her hand. 

There was an airy, high-bred elegance in Lady Emily's impertinence thatseemed to throw Mrs. Downe Wright's coarse sarcasms to an immeasurabledistance; and that lady was beginning to despair, but she was determinednot to give in while she could possibly stand out. She accordinglyrallied her forces, and turned to Mary. 

"So you have lost your neighbour, Mrs. Lennox, since I was here? I thinkshe was an acquaintance of yours. Poor woman! her death must have been ahappy release to herself and her friends. She has left no family, Ibelieve?" quite aware of the report of Mary's engagement with ColonelLennox. "

"Only one son, " said Mary, with a little emotion. 

"Oh! very true. He's in the law, I think?"

"In the army, " answered Mary, faintly. 

"That's a poor trade, " said Mrs. Downe Wright, "and I doubt he'll nothave much to mend it. Rose Hall's but a poor property. I've heard theymight have had a good estate in Scotland if it hadn't been for the prideof the General, that wouldn't let him change his name for it, He thoughtit grander to be a poor Lennox than a rich Macnaughton, or some suchname, It's to be hoped the son's of the same mind?"

"I have no doubt of it, " said Lady Emily. "Tis a noble name-quite alegacy in itself. "

"It's one that, I am afraid, will not be easily turned into bank notes, however, " returned Mrs. Downe Wright, with a _real_ hearty laugh. Andthen, delighted to get off with what she called flying colours, shehastily rose with an exclamation at the lateness of the hour, and aremark how quickly time passed in pleasant company; and, with friendlyshakes of the hand, withdrew. 

"How very insupportable is such a woman, " said Lady Emily to Mary, "who, to gratify her own malice, says the most cutting things to herneighbours, and at the same time feels self-approbation, in the beliefthat she is doing good. And yet, hateful as she is, I blush to say Ihave sometimes been amused by her ill-nature when it was directedagainst people I hated still more. Lady Matilda Sufton, forexample, --there she certainly shone, for hypocrisy is always fair game;and yet the people who love to hunt it are never amiable. You smile, asmuch as to say, Here is Satan preaching a sermon on holiness. Buthowever satirical and intolerant you may think me, you must own that Itake no delight in the discovery of other people's faults: if I want themeekness of a Christian, at least I don't possess the malice of a Jew. Now Mrs. Downe Wright has a real heartfelt satisfaction in sayingmalicious things, and in thrusting herself into company where she mustknow she is unwelcome, for the sole purpose of saying them. Yet manypeople are blessed with such blunt perceptions that they are not at allaware of her real character, and only wonder, when she has left them, what made them feel so uncomfortable when she was present. But she hasput me in such a bad humour that I must go out of door and apostrophisethe sun, like Lucifer. Do come, Mary, you will help to dispel mychagrin. I really feel as if my heart had been in a limekiln. All itskingly feelings are so burnt up by the malignant influences of Mrs. Downe Wright; while you, " continued she, as they strolled into thegardens, "are as cool, and as sweet, and as sorrowful as these violets, "gathering some still wet with an April shower. "How delicious, aftersuch a mental _sirocco, _ to feel the pure air and hear the birds sing, and look upon the flowers and blossoms, and sit here, and bask in thesun from laziness to walk into the shade. You must needs acknowledge, Mary, that spring in England is a much more amiable season than in yourungentle clime. "

This was the second spring Mary had seen set in, in England. But thefirst had been wayward and backward as the seasons of her nativeclimate. The present was such a one as poets love to paint. Nature wasin all its first freshness and beauty--the ground was covered withflowers, the luxuriant hedgerows were white with blossoms, the air wasimpregnated with the odours of the gardens and orchards. Still Marysighed as she thought of Lochmarlie--its wild tangled woods, with hereand there a bunch of primroses peeping forth from amidst moss andwithered ferns--its gurgling rills, blue lakes, and rocks, andmountains--all rose to view; and she felt that, even amid fairer scenes, and beneath brighter suns, her heart would still turn with fond regretto the land of her birth. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

 "Wondrous it is, to see in diverse mindes How diversly Love doth his pageants play And shows his power in variable kinds. "

 SPENSER. 

BUT even the charms of spring were overlooked by Lady Emily in thesuperior delight she experienced at hearing that the ship in whichEdward Douglas was had arrived at Portsmouth; and the intelligence wassoon followed by his own arrival at Beech Park. He was received by herwith rapture, and by Mary with the tenderest emotion. Lord Courtland wasalways glad of an addition to the family party; and even Lady Julianaexperienced something like emotion as she beheld her son, now the exactimage of what his father had been twenty years before. 

Edward Douglas was indeed a perfect model of youthful beauty, andpossessed of all the high spirits and happy _insouciance_ which can onlycharm at that early period. He loved his profession, and had alreadydistinguished himself in it. He was handsome, brave, good-hearted, andgood-humoured, but he was not clever; and Mary felt some solicitude asto the permanency of of Lady Emily's attachment to him. But Lady Emily, quick-sighted to the defects of the whole world, seemed happily blind tothose of her lover; and when even Mary's spirits were almost exhaustedby his noisy rattle, Lady Emily, charmed and exhilarated, entered intoall his practical jokes and boyish frolics with the greatest delight. 

She soon perceived what was passing in Mary's mind. 

"I see perfectly well what you think of my _penchant_ for Edward, " saidshe one day; "I can tell you exactly what was passing in your thoughtsjust now. You were thinking how strange, how passing strange it is, thatI, who am (false modesty avaunt!) certainly cleverer than Edward, shouldyet be so partial to him, and that my lynx eyes should have failed todiscover in him faults which, with a single glance, I should havedetected in others. Now, can't you guess what renders even these veryfaults so attractive to me?"

"The old story, I suppose?" said Mary. "Love. "

"Not at all. Love might blind me to his faults altogether, and then mycase would be indeed hopeless, were I living in the belief that I wasloving a piece of perfection--a sort of Apollo Belvidere in mind as wellas in person. Now, so far from that, I could reckon you up a wholecatalogue of his faults; and nevertheless, I love him with my wholeheart, faults and all. In the first place, they are the faults withwhich I have been familiar from infancy; and therefore they possess acharm (to my shame be it said!) greater than other people's virtueswould have to me. They come over my fancy like some snatch of an oldnursery song, which one loves to hear in defiance of taste and reason, merely because it is something that carries us back to those days which, whatever they were in reality, always look bright and sunny inretrospection. In the second place, his faults are real, genuine, natural faults; and in this age of affectation how refreshing it is tomeet with even a natural fault! I grant you, Edward talks absurdly, andasks questions _à faire dresser les cheveux_ of a Mrs. Bluemits. But that amuses me; for his ignorance is not the ignorance of vulgarityor stupidity, but the ignorance of a light head and a merry heart--ofone, in short, whose understanding has been at sea when other people'swere at school. His _bonmots_ certainly would not do to be printed; butthen they make me laugh a great deal more than if they were better, forhe is always _naif_ and original, and I prefer an in indifferentoriginal any day to a good copy. How it shocks me to hear peoplerecommending to their children to copy such a person's manners! A copiedmanner, how insupportable! The servile imitator of a set pattern, howdespicable! No! I would rather have Edward in all the freshness of hisown faults rather than in the faded semblance of another persons'sproprieties. "

Mary agreed to the truth of her cousin's observations in some respects, though she could not help thinking that love had as much to say in hercase as in most others; for if it did not blind her to her lover'sfaults, it certainly made her much more tolerant of them. 

Edward was, in truth, at times almost provokingly boyish and unthinking, and possessed a flow of animal spirits as inexhaustible as they weresometimes overpowering; but she flattered herself time would subdue themto a more rational tone; and she longed for his having the advantages ofColonel Lennox's society--not by way of pattern, as Lady Emily expressedit, but that he might be gradually led to something of more refinement, from holding intercourse with a superior mind. And she obtained her wishsooner than she had dared to hope for it. That battle was fought whichdecided the fate of Europe, and turned so many swords into ploughshares;and Mary seemed now touching the pinnacle of happiness when she saw herlover restored to her. He had gained additional renown in the bloodyfield of Waterloo; and, more fortunate than others, his military careerhad terminated both gloriously and happily. 

If Mary had ever distrusted the reality of his affection, all her doubtswere now at an end. She saw she was beloved with all the truth andardour of a noble ingenuous mind, too upright to deceive others, tooenlightened to deceive itself. All reserve betwixt them was now at anend; and, secure in mutual affection, nothing seemed to oppose itself totheir happiness. 

Colonel Lennox's fortune was small; but such as it was, it seemed sufficient for all the purposes of rational enjoyment. Bothwere aware that wealth is a relative thing, and that the positively richare not those who have the largest possessions but those who have thefewest vain or selfish desires to gratify. From these they were happilyexempt. Both possessed too many resources in their own minds to requirethe stimulus of spending money to rouse them into enjoyment, or givethem additional importance in the eyes of the world; and, above all, both were too thoroughly Christian in their principles to murmur at anysacrifices or privations they might have to endure in the course oftheir earthly pilgrimage. 

But Lady Juliana's weak, worldly mind, saw things in a very differentlight; and when Colonel Lennox, as a matter of form, applied to her forher consent to their union, he received a positive and angry refusal. She declared she never would consent to any daughter of hers making sofoolish, so very unsuitable a marriage. And then, sending for Mary, shecharged her, in the most peremptory manner, to break of all intercoursewith Colonel Lennox. 

Poor Mary was overwhelmed with grief and amazement at this new displayof her mother's tyranny and injustice, and used all the powers ofreasoning and entreaty to alter her sentiments; but in vain. SinceAdelaide's elopement Lady Juliana had been much in want of some subjectto occupy her mind--something to excite a sensation, and give hersomething to complain of, and talk about, and put her in a bustle, andmake her angry, and alarmed, and ill-used, and, in short, all the thingswhich a fool is fond of being. 

Although Mary had little hopes of being able to prevail by anyefforts of reason, she yet tried to make her mother comprehend thenature of her engagement with Colonel Lennox as of a sacred nature, andtoo binding ever to be dissolved. But Lady Juliana's wrath blazed forthwith redoubled violence at the very mention of an engagement. She hadnever heard of anything so improper. Colonel Lennox must be a mostunprincipled man to lead her daughter into an engagement unsanctioned byher; and she had acted in the most improper manner in allowing herselfto form an attachment without the consent of those who had the besttitle to dispose of her. The person who could act thus was not fit to betrusted, and in future it would be necessary for her to have herconstantly under her own eye. 

Mary found her candour had therefore only reduced her to the alternativeof either openly rebelling, or of submitting to be talked at, andwatched, and guarded, as if she had been detected in carrying on someimproper clandestine intercourse. But she submitted to all therestrictions that were imposed and the torments that were inflicted, ifnot with the heroism of a martyr, at least with the meekness of one; forno murmur escaped her lips. She was only anxious to conceal from othersthe extent of her mother's folly and injustice, and took everyopportunity of entreating Colonel Lennox's silence and forbearance. Itrequired, indeed, all her influence to induce him to submit patiently tothe treatment he experienced. Lady Juliana had so often repeated to Marythat it was the greatest presumption in Colonel Lennox to aspire to adaughter of hers, that she had fairly talked herself into the beliefthat he was all she asserted him to be--a man of neither birth norfortune certainly a Scotsman from his name--consequently havingthousands of poor cousins and vulgar relations of every description. Andshe was determined that no daughter of hers should ever marry a manwhose family connections she knew nothing about. She had suffered agreat deal too much from her (Mary's) father's low relations ever to runthe risk of anything of the same kind happening again. In short, she atlength made it out clearly, to her own satisfaction, that Colonel Lennoxwas scarcely a gentleman; and she therefore considered it as her duty totreat him on every occasion with the most marked rudeness. ColonelLennox pitied her folly too much to be hurt by her ill-breeding andmalevolence, but he could scarcely reconcile it to his notions of dutythat Mary's superior mind should submit to the thraldom of one whoevidently knew not good from evil. 

Lady Emily was so much engrossed by her own affairs that for some timeall this went on unnoticed by her. At length she was struck with Mary'sdejection, and observed that Colonel Lennox seemed also dispirited; but, imputing it to a lover's quarrel, she laughingly taxed them with it. Although Mary could, suppress the cause of her uneasiness, she was tooingenuous to deny it; and, being pressed by her cousin, she at lengthdisclosed to her the cause of her sorrow. 

"Colonel Lennox and you have behaved like two fools, " said she, at theend of her cousin's communication. "What could possibly instigate you toso absurd an act as that of asking Lady Juliana's consent? You surelymight have known that the person who is never consulted about anythingwill invariably start difficulties to everything; and that people whoare never accustomed to be even listened to get quite unmanageable whenappealed to. Lady Juliana gave an immediate assent to Lord Glenallan'sproposals because she was the first person consulted about them; andbesides, she had a sort of an instinctive knowledge that it would createa sensation and make her of consequence--in short, she was to act in asort of triple capacity, as parent, lover, and bride. Here, on thecontrary, she was aware that her consent would stand as a mere cipher, and, once given, would never be more heard of. Liberty of opinion is anattitude many people quite lose themselves in. When once they attempt tothink, it makes confusion worse confounded; so it is much better to takethat labour off their hands, and settle the matter for them. It wouldhave been quite time enough to have asked Lady Juliana's consent afterthe thing was over; or, at any rate, the minute before it was to takeplace. I would not even have allowed her time for a flood of tears or afit of hysterics. And now that your duty has brought you to this, evenmy genius is a a loss how to extricate you. Gretna Green might have beenadvisable, and that would have accorded with your notions of duty; thatwould have been following your mamma's own footsteps; but it is becometoo vulgar an exploit. I read of a hatter's apprentice having carriedoff a grocer's heiress t'other day. What do you purpose doing yourself?"

"To try the effect of patience and submission, " said Mary, "rather thanopenly set at defiance one of the most sacred duties--the obedience of achild to a parent. Besides, I could not possibly be happy were I tomarry under such circumstances. "

"You have much too nice a conscience, " said Lady Emily; "and yet I couldscarcely wish you otherwise than you are. What an angel you are, tobehave as you do to such a mother; with such sweetness, and gentleness, and even respect! Ah! they know little of human nature who think that toperform great actions one must necessarily be a great character. So farfrom that, I now see there may be much more real greatness of minddisplayed in the quiet tenor of a woman's life than in the mostbrilliant exploits that ever were performed by man. Methinks I myselfcould help to storm a city; but to rule my own spirit is a task beyondme. What a pity it is you and I cannot change places. Here am I, languishing for a little opposition to my love. My marriage will bequite an insipid, every-day affair; I yawn already to think of it. Cananything be more disheartening to a young couple, anxious to signalisetheir attachment in the face of the whole world, than to be allowed totake their own way? Conceive my vexation at being told by papa thismorning that he had not the least objection to Edward and me marryingwhenever we pleased, although he thought we might both have done better;but that was our own affair, not his; that he thought Edward a fine, good humoured fellow--excessively amusing; hoped he would get a ship someday, although he had no interest whatever in the Admiralty; was sorry hecould not give us any money, but hoped we should remain at Beech Park aslong as we liked. I really feel quite flat with all these dullaffirmations. "

"What! you had rather have been locked up in a tower--wringing yourhands at the height of the windows, the thickness of the walls, and soforth, " said Mary. 

"No: I should never have done anything so like a washerwoman as to wringmy hands; though I might, like some heroines, have fallen to work in aregular blacksmith-way, by examining the lock of the door, and perhapshave succeeded in picking it; but, alas! I live in degenerate days. Ohthat I had been born the persecuted daughter of some ancient baron boldinstead of the spoiled child of a good natured modern earl! Heavens! tothink that I must tamely, abjectly submit to be married in the presenceof all my family, even in the very parish church! Oh, what detractionsfrom the brilliancy of my star!"

In spite of her levity Lady Emily was seriously interested in hercousin's affairs, and tried every means of obtaining Lady Juliana'sconsent; but Lady Juliana was become more unmanageable than ever. Hertemper, always bad, was now soured by chagrin and disappointment intosomething, if possible, still worse, and Lady Emily's authority had nolonger any control over her; even the threat of producing Aunt Grizzy toa brilliant assembly had now lost its effect. Dr. Redgill was the onlyauxiliary she possessed in the family, and he most cordially joined he incondemning Miss Mary's obstinacy and infatuation. What could she see ina man with such an insignificant bit of property, a mere nest forblackbirds and linnets, and such sort of vermin. Not a morsel of anysort of game on his grounds; while at Glenallan, he had been crediblyinformed, such was the abundance that the deer had been seen stalking andthe black-cock flying past the very door! But the Doctor's indignationwas suddenly suspended by a fit of apoplexy; from which, however, herallied, and passed it off for the present as a sort of vertigo, inconsequence of the shock he had received at hearing of Miss Mary'smisconduct. 

At length even Colonel Lennox's forbearance was exhausted, and Mary'shealth and spirits were sinking beneath the conflict she had tomaintain, when a sudden revolution in Lady Juliana's plans caused also arevolution in her sentiments. This was occasioned by a letter fromAdelaide, now Lady Lindore. It was evidently written under the influenceof melancholy and discontent; and, as Lady Emily said, nothing could bea stronger proof of poor Adelaide's wretchedness than her expressing awish that her mother should join her in the South of France, where shewas going on account of her health. 

Adelaide was indeed one of the many melancholy proofs of the effects ofheadstrong passions and perverted principles. Lord Lindore had marriedher from a point of honour; and although he possessed too muchrefinement to treat her ill, yet his indifference was not the lesscutting to a spirit haughty as hers. Like many others, she had vainlyimagined that, in renouncing virtue itself for the man she loved, shewas for ever ensuring his boundless gratitude and adoration; and sheonly awoke from her delusive dream to find herself friendless in aforeign land, an outcast from society, an object of indifference even tohim for whom she had abandoned all. 

But Lady Juliana would see nothing of all this. She was charmed at whatshe termed this proof of her daughter's affection, in wishing to haveher with her; and the prospect of going abroad seemed like a vision ofparadise to her. Instant preparations were made for her departure, andin the bustle attendant on them, Mary and her affairs sank into utterinsignificance. Indeed, she seemed rather anxious to get her disposed ofin any way that might prevent her interfering with her own plans; and aconsent to her marriage, such as it was, was easily obtained. 

"Marry whom you please, " said she; "only remember I am not responsiblefor the consequences. I have always told you what a wretched thing alove-marriage is, therefore you are not to blame me for your futuremisery. "

Mary readily subscribed to the conditions; but, as she embraced hermother at parting, she timidly whispered a hope that she would everconsider her house as her home. A smile of contempt was the only replyshe received, and they parted never more to meet. Lady Juliana foundforeign manners and principles too congenial to her tastes ever to returnto Britain. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

"O most gentle Jupiter! what tedious homily of love haveyou wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried, _Have patience, good people!"_

 _As You Like it. _

THE only obstacle to her union thus removed, Mary thought she might nowventure to let her Aunt Grizzy into the secret; and accordingly, withsome little embarrassment, she made the disclosure of the mutualattachment subsisting between Colonel Lennox and herself. Grizzyreceived the communication with all the astonishment which ladiesusually experience upon being made acquainted with a marriage which theyhad not had the prescience to foresee and foretell--or even one whichthey had; for, common and natural as the event seems to be, it is onewhich perhaps in no instance ever took place without occasioning thegreatest amazement to some one individual or another; and it will alsobe generally found that either the good or the bad fortune of one orother of the parties is the subject of universal wonder. In short, amarriage which excites no surprise, pity, or indignation, must besomething that has never yet been witnessed on the face of this roundworld. It is greatly to be feared none of my readers will sympathise inthe feelings of the good spinster on this occasion, as she poured themforth in the following _extempore_ or _improvisatorial_ strain:-

"Well, Mary, I declare I'm perfectly confounded with all you have beentelling me! I'm sure I never heard the like of it! It seems but thet'other day since you began your sampler; and it looks justlike yesterday since your father and mother were married. And such a workas there was at your nursing! I'm sure your poor grandfather was out ofall patience about it. And now to think that you are going to bemarried! not but what it's a thing we all expected, for there's no doubtEngland's the place for young women to get husbands--we always saidthat, you know; not but what I dare say you might have been married, too, if you had stayed in the Highlands, and to a real Highlander, too, which, of course, would have been still better for us all; for it willbe a sad thing if you are obliged to stay in England, Mary; but I hopethere's no chance of that: you know Colonel Lennox can easily sell hisplace, and buy an estate in the Highlands. There's a charming property, I know, to be sold just now, that _marches_ with Glenfern. To be sureit's on the wrong side of the hill--there's no denying that; but then, there's I can't tell you how many thousand acres of fine muir forshooting, and I daresay Colonel Lennox is a keen sportsman; and they saya great deal of it might be very much improved. We must really inquireafter it, Mary, and you must speak to Colonel Lennox about it, for youknow such a property as that may be snapped up in a minute. "

Mary assented to all that was said; and Grizzy proceeded--

"I wonder you never brought Colonel Lennox to see us, Mary. I'm sure hemust think it very odd. To be sure, Sir Sampson's situation is someexcuse; but at any rate I wonder you never spoke about him. We all foundout your Aunt Bella's attachment from the very first, just from herconstantly speaking about Major M'Tavish and the militia; and we had agood guess of Betsy's too, from the day her face turned so red aftergiving Captain M'Nab for her toast; but you have really kept yours veryclose, for I declare I never once suspected such a thing. I wonder ifthat was Colonel Lennox that I saw you part with at the door oneday--tall, and with brown hair, and a bluecoat. I asked Lady Maclaughlanif she knew who it was, and she said it was Admiral Benbow; but I thinkshe must have been mistaken, for I daresay now it was just ColonelLennox. Lennox--I'm sure I should be able to remember something aboutsomebody of that name; but my memory's not so good as it used to be, forI have so many things, you know, to think about, with Sir Sampson, thatI declare sometimes my head's quite confused; yet I think always there'ssomething about them. I wish to goodness Lady Maclaughlan was come fromthe dentist's, that I might consult her about it; for of course, you'lldo nothing without consulting all your friends--I know you've too muchsense for that. An here's Sir Sampson coming; it will be a fine piece ofnews to tell him. "

Sir Sampson having been now wheeled in by the still active Philistine, and properly arranged with the assistance of Miss Grizzy, she took herusual station by the side of his easy chair, and began to shout into hisear. 

"Here's my niece Mary, Sir Sampson; you remember her when she waslittle, I daresay--you know you used to call her the fairy ofLochmarlie; and I'm sure we all thought for long she would have been aperfect fairy, she was so little; but she's tall enough now, you see, and she's going to be married to a fine young man. None of us know himyet, but I think I must have seen him; and at any rate I'm to see himto-morrow, and you'll see him too, Sir Sampson, for Mary is to bring himto call here, and he'll tell you all about the battle of Waterloo, andthe Highlanders; for he's half a Highlander too, and I'm certain he'll buythe Dhuanbog estate, and then, when my niece Mary marries ColonelLennox--"

"Lennox!" repeated Sir Sampson, his little dim eyes kindling at thename--"Who talks of Lennox I--I--I won't suffer it. Where's my Lady?Lennox!--he's a scoundrel! You shan't marry a Lennox!" Turning toGrizzy, "Call Philistine, and my Lady. " And his agitation was so greatthat even Grizzy, although accustomed for forty years to witness similarebullitions, became alarmed. 

"You see it's all for fear of my marrying, " whispered she to Mary. "I'm sure such a disinterested attachment, it's impossible for meever to repay it!"

Then turning to Sir Sampson, she sought to soothe his perturbation byoft-repeated assurances that it was not her but her niece Mary that wasgoing to be married to Colonel Lennox. But in vain; Sir Sampsonquivered, and panted, and muttered; and the louder Grizzy screamed outthe truth the more his irritation increased. Recourse was now had toPhilistine; and Mary, thoroughly ashamed of the éclat attendingthe disclosure of her secret, and finding she could be of no use, stoleaway in the midst of Miss Grizzy's endless _verbiage_, but as shedescended the stairs she still heard the same assurance resounding--"Ican assure you, Sir Sampson, it's not me, but my niece Mary that's goingto be married to Colonel Lennox, " etc. 

On returning to Beech Park she said nothing of what had passed either toLady Emily or Colonel Lennox--aware of the amusement it would furnish toboth; and she felt that her aunt required all the dignity with which shecould invest her before presenting her to her future nephew. The onlydelay to her marriage now rested with herself; but she was desirous itshould take place under the roof which had sheltered her infancy, andsanctioned by the presence of those whom she had ever regarded as herparents. Lady Emily, Colonel Lennox, and her brother had all endeavouredto combat this resolution, but in vain; and it was therefore settledthat she should remain to witness the union of her brother and hercousin, and then return to Lochmarlie. But all Mary's preconceived planswere threatened with a downfall by the receipt of the following letterfrom Miss Jacky:--

GLENFERN CASTLE, ---SHIRIE, _June_ 19, 181--. 

"It _is_ impossible for _language_ to express to _you_ the _shame, _grief, amazement, and _indignation, _ with _which_ we are _all_ filled atthe distressing, the _ignominious_ disclosure that has _just_ taken_place_ concerning you, _through_ our most _excellent_ friend Miss P. M'Pry. Oh, Mary, _how_ have you _deceived_ us all!!! What a _dagger_have _you_ plunged into _all_ our hearts! Your _poor _Aunt _Grizzy!_how my _heart_ bleeds _for_ her! What a difficult part _has_ she toact! and at her _time_ of life! with her acute _feelings!_ with herdevoted _attachment _to the _house_ of M'Laughlan! What a _blow!_ and a_blow _from your _hand!_ Oh, Mary, I _must_ again repeat, how _have_ youdeceived us _all_!!! Yet _do_ not imagine I mean to _reproach_ you!Much, much of the blame is _doubtless _imputable to the errors of _your_education! At the _same _time, even these _offer_ no justification ofyour _conduct _upon the present occasion! You are now (I lament to sayit!) _come_ to that time of _life_ when _you_ ought to know _what_ isright; or, where you entertain _any_ doubts, you ought _most_unquestionably to _apply_ to those _who_, you _may_ be certain, _are_well qualified to direct you. _But, _ instead _of_ that, you have_pursued_ a diametrically opposite _plan:_ a plan which _might_ have_ended_ in your destruction! Oh, Mary, _I_ cannot too _often _repeat, how have _you_ deceived us all!!! From no _lips _but those of Miss M'Pry_would_ I have believed _what_ I have heard, videlicet, that you (oh, Mary!) have, for many, many months _past, _ been carrying on aclandestine _correspondence _with a _young_ man, unknown, unsuspected by_all_ your friends here! and that _young_ man, the very _last_ man onthe face of the _earth_ whom you, or any of _us, _ ought to have givenour countenance _to!_ The very man, in _short, _ whom we were all_bound, _ by every _principle_ of duty, gratitude, and esteem, to haveshunned, and who you are _bound, _from this _moment, _ to renounce forever. How you ever _came _to be acquainted _with_ Colonel Charles Lennoxof Rose Hall is a mystery none of us can fathom; but surely the person, _whoever _it was that _brought_ it about, has much, _much_ to answerfor! Mrs. Douglas (to whom I _thought_ it proper to _make _an immediate_communication_ on the subject) pretends to _have_ been well informed ofall that has _been_ going on, and even insists that _your_ acquaintance_with_ the Lennox family _took_ place through Lady M'Laughlan! _But_that we _all_ know to be _morally_ impossible. Lady M'Laughlan is the_very_ last person in the _world_ who would have _introduced_ you, orany _young_ creature for whom she had the _slightest_ regard, to aLennox, the _mortal enemy of the M'Laughlan race!_ I most _sincerely_trust she is spared the _shock_ we have all experienced at this painful_disclosure. _With her _high_ principles, and _great_ regard for us, Itremble to think _what_ might be the consequences! And dear Sir Sampson, in his delicate state, how _would_ he ever be able to _stand_ such ablow! and a blow, too, from your _hand, _ Mary! you, who he _was_ always_like_ a father to! _Many_ a time, I am sure, _have_ you sat upon his_knee, _ and you certainly _cannot_ have forgot the _elegant_ Shetlandpony he presented you _with_ the day you was five _years_ old! And_what_ a return for such favours!

"But I fondly trust it _is_ not yet too late. You have _only_ to give upthis unworthy attachment, and all _will_ be forgotten and _forgiven_;and we will all receive you as if _nothing_ had happened. Oh, Mary! Imust, for the last _time_ repeat, how have you deceived us _all_!

"I am your distressed aunt, "JOAN DOUGLAS. 

P. S. --I conclude abruptly, in _order_ to leave _room_ for your Aunt Nickyto _state_ her sentiments also on this _most_ afflicting subject. "

Nicky's appendix was as follows:--

"DEAR MARY--Jacky has read her letter to us. It is most excellent. Weare all much affected by it. Not a word but deserves to be printed. Ican add nothing. You see, if you marry Colonel L. None of us can be atyour marriage. How could we? I hope you will think twice about it. Second thoughts are best. What's done cannot be undone. Yours, "N. D. "

Mary felt somewhat in the situation of the sleeper awakened, as sheperused these mysterious anathemas; and rubbed her eyes more than oncein hopes of dispelling the mist that she thought must needs be uponthem. But in vain: it seemed only to increase with every effort she madeto remove it. Not a single ray of light fell on the palpable obscure ofMiss Jacky's composition, that could enable her to penetrate the darkprofound that encompassed her. She was aware, indeed, that when her auntmeant to be pathetic or energetic she always had recourse to the longestand the strongest words she could possibly lay her hands upon; and Maryhad been well accustomed to hear her childish faults and juvenileindiscretions denounced in the most awful terms as crimes of the deepestdye. Many an exordium she had listened to on the tearing of her frock, or the losing of her glove, that might have served as a preface to the"Newgate Calendar, " "Colquhoun on the Police, " or any other register ofcrimes. Still she had always been able to detect some clue to her ownmisdeeds; but here even conjecture was baffled, and in vain she soughtfor some resting-place for her imagination, in the probable misdemeanourof her lover. But even allowing all possible latitude for Jacky's pen, she was forced to acknowledge there must be some ground for her aunt tobuild upon. Superficial as her structures generally were, likechildren's card-houses, they had always something to rest upon; though(unlike them) her creations were invariably upon a gigantic scale. 

Mary had often reflected with surprise that, although Lady Maclauglanhad been the person to introduce her to Mrs. Lennox, no intercourse hadtaken place between the families themselves; and when she had mentionedthem to each other Mrs. Lennox had only sighed, and Lady Maclaughlan hadhumphed. She despaired of arriving at the knowledge of the truth fromher aunts. Grizzy's brain was a mere wisp of contradictions; and Jacky'smind was of that violent hue that cast its own shade upon every objectthat came in contact with it. To mention the matter to Colonel Lennoxwas only to make the relations ridiculous; and, in short, although itwas a formidable step, the result of her deliberation was to go toLady Maclaughlan, and request a solution of her aunt's dark sayings. Shetherefore departed for Milsom Street, and, upon entering thedrawing-room, found Grizzy alone, and evidently in even more than usualperturbation. 

"Oh, Mary!" cried she, as her niece entered, "I'm sure I'm thankfulyou're come. I was just wishing for you. You can't think how muchmischief your yesterday's visit has done. It's a thousand pities, Ideclare, that ever you said a word about your marriage to Sir Sampson. But of course I don't mean to blame you, Mary. You know you couldn'thelp it; so don't vex yourself, for you know that will not make thething any better now. Only if Sir Sampson should die--to be sure I mustalways think it was that that killed him; and I'm sure it at will soonkill me too-such a friend--oh, Mary!" Here a burst of grief choked poorMiss Grizzy's utterance. 

"My dear aunt, " said Mary, "you certainly must be mistaken. Sir Sampsonseems to retain no recollection of me. It is therefore impossible that Icould cause him any pain or agitation. "

"Oh certainly!" said Grizzy. "There's no doubt Sir Sampson has quiteforgot you, Mary--and no wonder-with your being so long away; but Idaresay he'll come to know you yet. But I'm sure I hope to goodnesshe'll never know you as Mrs. Lennox, Mary. That would break his heartaltogether; for you know the Lennoxes have always been the greatestenemies of the Maclaughlans, --and of course Sir Sampson can't bearanybody of the name, which is quite natural. And it was very thoughtlessin me to have forgot that till Philistine put me in mind of it, and poorSir Sampson has had a very bad night; so I'm sure I hope, Mary, you'llnever think any more about Colonel Lennox; and, take my word for it, you'll get plenty of husbands yet. Now, since there's a peace, therewill be plenty of fine young officers coming home. There's youngBalquhadan, a captain, I know, in some regiment; and there'sDhalahulish, and Lochgrunason, and--" But Miss Grizzy's ideas here shotout into so many ramifications upon so many different branches of thecounty tree, that it would be in vain for any but a true Celt to attemptto follow her. 

Mary again tried to lead her back to the subject of the Lennoxes, inhopes of being able to extract some spark of knowledge from the darkchaos of her brain. 

"Oh, I'm sure, Mary, if you want to hear about that, I can tell youplenty about the Lennoxes; or at any rate about the Maclaughlans, whichis the same thing. But I must first find my huswife. "

To save Miss Grizzy's reminiscence, a few words will suffice to clear upthe mystery. A family feud of remote origin had long subsisted betweenthe families of Lennox and Maclaughlan, which had been carefullytransmitted from father to son, till the hereditary brand had beendeposited in the breast of Sir Sampson. By the death of many interveningheirs General Lennox, then a youth, was next in succession to theMaclaughlan estate; but the power of alienating it was vested in SirSampson, as the last remaining heir of the entail. By the mistaken zealof their friends both were, at an early period, placed in the sameregiment, in the hope that constant as association together wouldquickly destroy their mutual prejudices, and produce a reconciliation. But the inequalities were too great ever to assimilate. Sir Sampsonpossessed a large fortune, a deformed person, and a weak, vain, irritable mind. General (then Ensign) Lennox had no other patrimony thanhis sword--a handsome person, high spirit, and dauntless courage. Withthese tempers, it may easily be conceived that a thousand triflingevents occurred to keep alive the hereditary animosity. Sir Sampson'smind expected from his poor kinsman a degree of deference and respectwhich the other, so far from rendering, rather sought opportunities ofshowing his contempt for, and of thwarting and ridiculing him upon everyoccasion, till Sir Sampson was obliged to quit the regiment. From thattime it was understood that all bearing the name of Lennox were for everexcluded from the succession to the Maclaughlan estates; and it wasdeemed a sort of petty treason even to name the name of a Lennox inpresence of this dignified chieftain. 

Many years had worn away, and Sir Sampson had passed through the variousmodifications of human nature, from the "mewling infant" to "mereoblivion, " without having become either wiser or better. His mindremained the same--irascible and vindictive to the last. LadyMaclaughlan had too much sense to attempt to reason or argue him out ofhis prejudices, but she contrived to prevent him from ever executing anew entail. She had known and esteemed both General and Mrs. Lennoxbefore her marriage with Sir Sampson, and she was too firm and decidedin her predilections ever to abandon them; and while she had the creditof sharing in all her husband's animosity, she was silently protectingthe lawful rights of those who had long ceased to consider them as such. General Lennox had always understood that he and his family were underSir Sampson's _ban_, and he possessed too high a spirit ever to expressa regret, or even allude to the circumstances. It had therefore made avery faint impression on the minds of any of his family, and in the longlapse of years had been almost forgot by Mrs. Lennox, till recalled byLady Maclaughlan's letter. But she had been silent on the subject toMary; for she could not conceal from herself that her husband had beento blame--that the heat and violence of his temper had often led him toprovoke and exasperate where mildness and forbearance would have soothedand conciliated, without detracting from his dignity; but her gentleheart shrank from the task of unnecessarily disclosing the faults ofthe man she had loved; and then she heard Mary talk with rapture of thewild beauties of Lochmarlie, she had only sighed to think that the prideand prejudice of others had alienated the inheritance of her son. 

But all this Mary was still in ignorance of, for Miss Grizzy had gonecompletely astray in the attempt to trace the rise and progress of theLennox and Maclaughlan feud. Happily Lady Maclauglan's entranceextricated her from her labyrinth, as it as the signal for her to repairto Sir Sampson. Mary, in some little confusion, was beginning to expressto her Ladyship regret at hearing that Sir Sampson had been so unwell, when she was stopped. 

"My dear child, don't learn to tell lies. You don't care two pence forSir Sampson. I know all. You are going to be married to Charles Lennox. I'm glad of it. I wished you to marry him. Whether you'll thank me forthat twenty years hence, _I_ can't tell--you can't tell--he can'ttell--God knows--humph! Your aunts will tell you he is Beelzebub, because his father said he could make a Sir Sampson out of a mouldylemon. Perhaps he could. I don't know but your aunts are fools. You knowwhat fools are, and so do I. There are plenty of fools in the world; butif they had not been sent for some wise purpose they wouldn't have beenhere; and since they are here they have as good a right to haveelbow-room in the world as the wisest. Sir Sampson hated General Lennoxbecause he laughed at him; and if Sir Sampson had lived a hundred yearsago, his hatred might have been a fine thing to talk about now. It isthe same passion that makes heroes of your De Montforts, and yourManuels, and your Corsairs, and all the rest of them; but they worecloaks and daggers, and these are the supporters of hatred. Everybodylaughs at the hatred of a little old man in a cocked hat. You may laughtoo. So now, God bless you! Continue as you are, and marry the man youlike, though the world should set its teeth against you. 'Tis notevery woman can be trusted to do that--farewell!" And with a cordialsalute they parted. 

Mary was too well accustomed to Lady Maclaughlan's style not tocomprehend that her marriage with Colonel Lennox was an event she hadlong wished for and now most warmly sanctioned; and she hastened home toconvey the glad tidings in a letter to her aunts, though doubtful if thetruth itself would be able to pierce its way through their prejudices. 

Another stroke of palsy soon rendered Sir Sampson unconscious even tothe charms of Grizzy's conversation, and as she was no longer of use tohim, and was evidently at a loss how to employ herself, Mary proposedthat she should accompany her back to Lochmarlie, to which she yielded ajoyful assent. Once convinced of Lady Maclaughlan's approbation of herniece's marriage she could think and talk of nothing else. 

Some wise individuals have thought that most people act from theinspiration of either a good or an evil power: to which class MissGrizzy belonged would have puzzled the most profound metaphysician todetermine. She was, in fact, a Maclaughlanite; but to find the _root_ ofMaclaughlan is another difficulty--thought is lost. 

Colonel Lennox, although a little startled at his first introduction tohis future aunt, soon came to understand the _naiveté_ of hercharacter; and his enlarged mind and good temper made such ampleallowance for her weaknesses, that she protested, with tears in hereyes, she never knew the like of him--she never could think enough ofhim. She wished to goodness Sir Sampson was himself again, and couldonly see him; she was sure he would think just as she did, etc. Etc. Etc. 

The day of Lady Emily's marriage arrived, and found her in a moreserious mood than she had hitherto appeared in; though it seemeddoubtful whether it was most occasioned by her own prospects or thethoughts of parting with Mary, who with Aunt Grizzy, was to set off forLochmarlie immediately after witnessing the ceremony. Edward and hisbride would fain have accompanied her; but Lord Courtland was too muchaccustomed to his daughter and amused by his nephew to bear theirabsence, and they therefore yielded the point, though with reluctance. "This is all for want of a little opposition to have braced my nerves, "said Lady Emily, as she dropped a few tears. "I verily believe I shouldhave wept outright had I not happily descried Dr. Redgill shrugging hisshoulders at me; that has given a filip to my spirits. After all, 'tisperhaps a foolish action I've committed. The icy bonds of matrimony areupon me already; I feel myself turning into a fond, faithful, rational, humble, meek-spirited wife! Alas! I must now turn my head into a museum, and hang up all my smart sayings inside my brain, there to petrify, aswarnings to all pert misses. Dear Mary! if ever I am good for anything, it will be to you I owe it!"

Mary could only embrace her cousin in silence, as she parted from herbrother and her with the deepest emotion, and, assisted by ColonelLennox (who was to follow), took her station by the side of her aunt. 

"I wish you a pleasant journey, Miss Mary, " cried Dr. Redgill. "The gameseason is coming on, and--" But the carriage drove off; and the rest ofthe sentence was dispersed by the wind; and all that could be collectedwas, "grouse always acceptable--friends at a distance--roebuck stuffedwith heather carries well at all times, " etc. Etc. 

To one less practised in her ways, and less gifted with patience, theeternal babbling of Aunt Grizzy as a travelling companion would haveoccasioned considerable ennui, if not spleen. There are perhaps fewgreater trials of temper than that of travelling with a person whothinks it necessary to be actively pleasant, without a moment'sintermission, from the rising till the setting sun. Grizzy was upon thisfatal plan, the rock of thousands! Silence she thought synonymous withlow spirits; and she talked, and wondered, and exclaimed incessantly, and assured Mary she need not be uneasy, she was certain Colonel Lennoxwould follow very soon; she had not the least doubt of that. She wouldnot be surprised if he Was to be at Lochmarlie almost as soon asthemselves; at any rate very soon after them. 

But even these little torments were forgot by Mary when she foundherself again in her native land. The hills, the air, the waters, thepeople, even the _peat-stacks_, had a charm that touched her heart, and brought tears into her eyes as they pictured home. But her feelingsarose to rapture when Lochmarlie burst upon her view in all thegrandeur, beauty, and repose of a setting sun, shedding its farewellrays of gold and purple, and tints of such matchless hue, as no pencilere can imitate--no poet's pen describe. Rocks, woods, hills, andwaters, all shone with a radiance that seemed of more than earthlybeauty. "Oh, there are moments in life, keen, blissful, never to beforgotten!" and such was the moment to Mary when the carriage stopped, and she again heard the melody of that voice familiar from infancy--andlooked on the face known with her being--and was pressed to that heartwhere glowed a parent's love!

When Mary recovered from the first almost _agonising_ transports of joy, she marked with delight the increased animation and cheerfulness visiblein Mrs. Douglas. All the livelier feelings of her warm heart had indeedbeen excited and brought into action by the spirit and playfulness ofher little boy, and the increased happiness of her husband; while allher uneasiness respecting her former lover was now at an end. She hadheard from himself that he had married, and was happy. Without beingguilty of inconstancy, such are the effects of time upon mutable humannature!

Colonel Lennox lost no time in arriving to claim his promised bride; andMary's happiness was complete when she found her own choice so warmlyapproved of by the friends she loved. 

The three aunts and their unmarried nieces, now the sole inhabitants ofGlenfern Castle, were not quite decided in their opinions at first. MissJacky looked with a suspicious eye upon the _mortal enemy of theMaclaughlan race;_ but, upon better acquaintance, his gaiety andgood-humour contrived to charm asleep even her good sense andprejudices, and she pronounced him to be a pleasant, well-informed youngman, who gave himself no airs, although he certainly had rather a highlook. 

Nicky doubted, from his appearance, that he would be nice, and shehad no patience with nice men; but Nicky's fears vanished when she saw, as she expressed it, "how pleasantly he ate the sheep's head, althoughhe had never seen one in his life before. "

The younger ladies thought Captain M'Nab had a finer complexion, andwondered whether Colonel Lennox (like him) would be dressed in fullregimentals at his marriage. 

But, alas! "all earthly good still blends itself with harm, " for on theday of Mary's marriage--a day consecrated to mirth, and bride-cake, andwedding favors, and marriage presents, and good cheer, and reels, andrevelry, and bagpipes--on that very day, when the marriage ceremony wasscarcely over, arrived the accounts of the death of Sir SampsonMaclaughlan! But on this joyous day even Grizzy's tears did not flow sofreely as they would have done at another time; and she declared thatalthough it was impossible anybody could feel more than she did, yetcertainly it would not be using Colonel and Mrs. Lennox well to be verydistressed upon such an occasion; and there was no doubt but she wouldhave plenty of time to be sorry about it yet, when they were all sittingquietly by themselves, with nothing else in their heads; though, to besure, they must always think what a blessing it was that Colonel Lennoxwas to succeed. 

"I wish he may ever fill Sir Sampson's shoes!" said Miss Nicky, with asigh. 

"Colonel Lennox cannot propose a better model to himself than SirSampson Maclaughlan, " said Miss Jacky. "He has left him a noble exampleof propriety, frugality, hospitality, and respectability; and, aboveall, of forgiveness of his mortal enemies. "

"Oh, Mary!" exclaimed Miss Grizzy, as they were about to part with theirniece, "what a lucky creature you are! Never, I am sure, did any youngperson set out in life with such advantages. To think of your succeedingto Lady Maclaughlan's laboratory, all so nicely fitted up with everykind of thing, and especially plenty of the most charming bark, which, I'm sure, will do Colonel Lennox the greatest good, as you know allofficers are much the better of bark. I know it was the saving of youngBallingall's life, when he came home in an ague from some place; and I'mcertain Lady Maclaughlan will leave you everything that is there, youwas always such a favourite. Not but what I must always think that youhad a hand in dear Sir Sampson's death. Indeed, I have no doubt of it. Yet, at the same time, I don't mean to blame you in the least; for I'mcertain, if Sir Sampson had been spared, he would have been delighted, as we all are, at your marriage. "

Colonel and Mrs. Lennox agreed in making choice of Lochmarlie for theirfuture residence; and in a virtuous attachment they found as muchhappiness as earth's pilgrims ever possess, whose greatest felicity mustspring from a higher source. The extensive influence which generallyattends upon virtue joined to prosperity was used by them for its bestpurposes. It was not confined either to rich or poor, to caste or sect;but all shared in their benevolence whom that benevolence could benefit. And the poor, he sick, and the desolate, united in blessing what heavenhad already blessed--this happy Marriage. 

THE END.