PRECAUTION. 

A Novel. 

By J. Fenimore Cooper. 

 "Be wise to-day. It is madness to defer; To-morrow's caution may arrive too late. "

W. C. Bryant's Discourse on the Life, Genius, and Writings of JamesFenimore Cooper, Delivered at Metropolitan Hall, N. Y. , February 25, 1852. 

It is now somewhat more than a year, since the friends of JAMES FENIMORECOOPER, in this city; were planning to give a public dinner to his honor. It was intended as an expression both of the regard they bore himpersonally, and of the pride they took in the glory his writings hadreflected on the American name. We thought of what we should say in hishearing; in what terms, worthy of him and of us, we should speak of theesteem in which we held him, and of the interest we felt in a fame whichhad already penetrated to the remotest nook of the earth inhabited bycivilized man. 

To-day we assemble for a sadder purpose: to pay to the dead some part ofthe honors then intended for the living. We bring our offering, but he isnot here who should receive it; in his stead are vacancy and silence;there is no eye to brighten at our words, and no voice to answer. "It isan empty office that we perform, " said Virgil, in his melodious verses, when commemorating the virtues of the young Marcellus, and bidding flowersbe strewn, with full hands, over his early grave. We might apply theexpression to the present occasion, but it would be true in part only. Wecan no longer do anything for him who is departed, but we may do what willnot be without fruit to those who remain. It is good to occupy ourthoughts with the example of great talents in conjunction with greatvirtues. His genius has passed away with him; but we may learn, from thehistory of his life, to employ the faculties we possess with usefulactivity and noble aims; we may copy his magnanimous frankness, hisdisdain of everything that wears the faintest semblance of deceit, hisrefusal to comply with current abuses, and the courage with which, on alloccasions, he asserted what he deemed truth, and combated what he thoughterror. 

The circumstances of Cooper's early life were remarkably suited to confirmthe natural hardihood and manliness of his character, and to call forthand exercise that extraordinary power of observation, which accumulatedthe materials afterwards wielded and shaped by his genius. His father, while an inhabitant of Burlington, in New Jersey, on the pleasant banks ofthe Delaware, was the owner of large possessions on the borders of theOtsego Lake in our own state, and here, in the newly-cleared fields, hebuilt, in 1786, the first house in Cooperstown. To this home, Cooper, whowas born in Burlington, in the year 1789, was conveyed in his infancy, andhere, as he informs us in his preface to the _Pioneers_, his firstimpressions of the external world were obtained. Here he passed hischildhood, with the vast forest around him, stretching up the mountainsthat overlook the lake, and far beyond, in a region where the Indian yetroamed, and the white hunter, half Indian in his dress and mode of life, sought his game, --a region in which the bear and the wolf were yet hunted, and the panther, more formidable than either, lurked in the thickets, andtales of wanderings in the wilderness, and encounters with these fierceanimals, beguiled the length of the winter nights. Of this place, Cooper, although early removed from it to pursue his studies, was an occasionalresident throughout his life, and here his last years were wholly passed. 

At the age of thirteen he was sent to Yale College, where, notwithstandinghis extreme youth, --for, with the exception of the poet Hillhouse, he wasthe youngest of his class, and Hillhouse was afterwards withdrawn, --hisprogress in his studies is said to have been honorable to his talents. Heleft the college, after a residence of three years, and became amidshipman in the United States navy. Six years he followed the sea, andthere yet wanders, among those who are fond of literary anecdote, a storyof the young sailor who, in the streets of one of the English ports, attracted the curiosity of the crowd by explaining to his companions aLatin motto in some public place. That during this period he made himselfmaster of the knowledge and the imagery which he afterwards employed to somuch advantage in his romances of the sea, the finest ever written, is acommon and obvious remark; but it has not been so far as I know, observedthat from the discipline of a seaman's life he may have derived much ofhis readiness and fertility of invention, much of his skill in surroundingthe personages of his novels with imaginary perils, and rescuing them byprobable expedients. Of all pursuits, the life of a sailor is that whichfamiliarizes men to danger in its most fearful shapes, most cultivatespresence of mind, and most effectually calls forth the resources of aprompt and fearless dexterity by which imminent evil is avoided. 

In 1811, Cooper, having resigned his post as midshipman, began the year bymarrying Miss Delaney, sister of the present bishop; of the diocese ofWestern New York, and entered upon a domestic life happily passed to itsclose. He went to live at Mamaroneck, in the county of Westchester, andwhile here he wrote and published the first of his novels, entitled_Precaution_. Concerning the occasion of writing this work, it is related, that once, as he was reading an English novel to Mrs. Cooper, who has, within a short time past, been laid in the grave beside her illustrioushusband, and of whom we may now say, that her goodness was no less eminentthan his genius, he suddenly laid down the book, and said, "I believe Icould write a better myself. " Almost immediately he composed a chapter ofa projected work of fiction, and read it to the same friendly judge, whoencouraged him to finish it, and when it was completed, suggested itspublication. Of this he had at the time no intention, but he was at lengthinduced to submit the manuscript to the examination of the late CharlesWilkes, of this city, in whose literary opinions he had great confidence. Mr. Wilkes advised that it should be published, and to these circumstanceswe owe it that Cooper became an author. 

I confess I have merely dipped into this work. The experiment was madewith the first edition, deformed by a strange punctuation--a profusion ofcommas, and other pauses, which puzzled and repelled me. Its author, manyyears afterwards, revised and republished it, correcting this fault, andsome faults of style also, so that to a casual inspection it appearedalmost another work. It was a professed delineation of English manners, though the author had then seen nothing of English society. It had, however, the honor of being adopted by the country whose manners itdescribed, and, being early republished in Great Britain, passed from thefirst for an English novel. I am not unwilling to believe what is said ofit, that it contained a promise of the powers which its author afterwardsput forth. 

Thirty years ago, in the year 1821, and in the thirty-second of his life, Cooper published the first of the works by which he will be known toposterity, the _Spy_. It took the reading world by a kind of surprise; itsmerit was acknowledged by a rapid sale; the public read with eagerness andthe critics wondered. Many withheld their commendations on account ofdefects in the plot or blemishes in the composition, arising from want ofpractice, and some waited till they could hear the judgment of Europeanreaders. Yet there were not wanting critics in this country, of whosegood opinion any author in any part of the world might be proud, who spokeof it in terms it deserved. "Are you not delighted, " wrote a literaryfriend to me, who has since risen to high distinction as a writer, both inverse and in prose, "are you not delighted with the _Spy_, as a work ofinfinite spirit and genius?" In that word genius lay the explanation ofthe hold which the work had taken on the minds of men. What it had ofexcellence was peculiar and unborrowed; its pictures of life, whether inrepose or activity, were drawn, with broad lights and shadows, immediatelyfrom living originals in nature or in his own imagination. To him, whatever he described was true; it was made a reality to him by thestrength with which he conceived it. His power in the delineation ofcharacter was shown in the principal personage of his story, Harvey Birch, on whom, though he has chosen to employ him in the ignoble office of aspy, and endowed him with the qualities necessary to hisprofession, --extreme circumspection, fertility in stratagem, and the artof concealing his real character--qualities which, in conjunction withselfishness and greediness, make the scoundrel, he has bestowed thevirtues of generosity, magnanimity, an intense love of country, a fidelitynot to be corrupted, and a disinterestedness beyond temptation. Out ofthis combination of qualities he has wrought a character which is afavorite in all nations, and with all classes of mankind. 

It is said that if you cast a pebble into the ocean, at the mouth of ourharbor, the vibration made in the water passes gradually on till itstrikes the icy barriers of the deep at the south pole. The spread ofCooper's reputation is not confined within narrower limits. The _Spy_ isread in all the written dialects of Europe, and in some of those of Asia. The French, immediately after its first appearance, gave it to themultitudes who read their far-diffused language, and placed it among thefirst works of its class. It was rendered into Castilian, and passed intothe hands of those who dwell under the beams of the Southern Cross. Atlength it passed the eastern frontier of Europe, and the latest record Ihave seen of its progress towards absolute universality, is contained in astatement of the _International Magazine_, derived, I presume, from itsauthor, that in 1847 it was published in a Persian translation at Ispahan. Before this time, I doubt not, they are reading it in some of thelanguages of Hindostan, and, if the Chinese ever translated anything, itwould be in the hands of the many millions who inhabit the far Cathay. 

I have spoken of the hesitation which American critics felt in admittingthe merits of the _Spy_, on account of crudities in the plot or thecomposition, some of which, no doubt, really existed. An exception must bemade in favor of the _Port Folio_, which, in a notice written by Mrs. Sarah Hall, mother of the editor of that periodical, and author of_Conversations on the Bible_, gave the work a cordial welcome; and Cooper, as I am informed, never forgot this act of timely and ready kindness. 

It was perhaps favorable to the immediate success of the _Spy_, thatCooper had few American authors to divide with him the public attention. That crowd of clever men and women who now write for the magazines, whosend out volumes of essays, sketches, and poems, and who supply the presswith novels, biographies, and historical works, were then, for the mostpart, either stammering their lessons in the schools, or yet unborn. Yetit is worthy of note, that just about the time that the _Spy_ made itsappearance, the dawn of what we now call our literature was just breaking. The concluding number of Dana's _Idle Man_, a work neglected at first, butnow numbered among the best things of the kind in our language, was issuedin the same month. The _Sketch Book_ was then just completed; the worldwas admiring it, and its author was meditating _Bracebridge Hall_. MissSedgwick, about the same time, made her first essay in that charmingseries of novels of domestic life in New England, which have gained her sohigh a reputation. Percival, now unhappily silent, had just put to press avolume of poems. I have a copy of an edition of Hallock's _Fanny_, published in the same year; the poem of _Yamoyden, _ by Eastburn and Sands, appeared almost simultaneously with it. Livingston was putting thefinishing hand to his _Report on the Penal Code of Louisiana, _ a workwritten with such grave, persuasive eloquence, that it belongs as much toour literature as to our jurisprudence. Other contemporaneous Americanworks there were, now less read. Paul Allen's poem of _Noah_ was just laidon the counters of the booksellers. Arden published, at the same time, inthis city, a translation of Ovid's _Tristia_, in heroic verse, in whichthe complaints of the effeminate Roman poet were rendered with greatfidelity to the original, and sometimes not without beauty. If I may speakof myself, it was in that year that I timidly intrusted to the winds andwaves of public opinion a small cargo of my own--a poem entitled _TheAges, _ and half a dozen shorter ones, in a thin duodecimo volume, printedat Cambridge. 

We had, at the same time, works of elegant literature, fresh from thepress of Great Britain, which are still read and admired. Barry Cornwall, then a young suitor for fame, published in the same year his _MarciaColonna_; Byron, in the full strength and fertility of his genius, gavethe readers of English his tragedy of _Marino Faliero_, and was in themidst of his spirited controversy with Bowles concerning the poetry ofPope. The _Spy_ had to sustain a comparison with Scott's _Antiquary_, published simultaneously with it, and with Lockhart's _Valerius_, whichseems to me one of the most remarkable works of fiction ever composed. 

In 1823, and in his thirty-fourth year, Cooper brought out his novel ofthe _Pioneers_, the scene of which was laid on the borders of his: ownbeautiful lake. In a recent survey of Mr; Cooper's works, by one of hisadmirers, it is intimated that the reputation of this work may have been, in some degree factitious. I cannot think so; I cannot see how such a workcould fail of becoming, sooner or later, a favorite. It was several yearsafter its first appearance that I read the _Pioneers_, and I read it witha delighted astonishment. Here, said I to myself, is the poet of rurallife in this country--our Hesiod, our Theocritus, except that he writeswithout the restraint of numbers, and is a greater poet than they. In the_Pioneers_, as in a moving picture, are made to pass before us the hardyoccupations and spirited, amusements of a prosperous settlement, in, afertile region, encompassed for leagues around with the primevalwilderness of woods. The seasons in their different aspects, bringing withthem, their different employments; forests falling before the axe; thecheerful population, with the first mild; day of spring, engaged in thesugar orchards; the chase of the deer through the deep woods, and into thelake; turkey-shooting, during the Christmas holidays, in which the Indianmarksman vied for the prize of skill with the white man; swift sleighrides under the bright winter sun, and, perilous encounters with wildanimals in the forests; these, and other scenes of rural life, drawn, asCooper knew how to draw them, in the bright and healthful coloring ofwhich he was master are interwoven with a regular narrative of humanfortunes, not unskilfully constructed; and how could such a work beotherwise than popular?

In the _Pioneers_, Leatherstocking; is first introduced--a philosopher ofthe woods, ignorant of books, but instructed in all that nature, withoutthe aid of, science, could reveal to the man of quick senses and inquiringintellect, whose life has been passed under the open sky, and incompanionship with a race whose animal perceptions are the acutest andmost cultivated of which there is any example. But Leatherstocking hashigher qualities; in him there is a genial blending of the gentlestvirtues of the civilized man with the better nature of the aboriginaltribes; all that in them is noble, generous, and ideal, is adopted intohis own kindly character, and all that is evil is rejected. But why shouldI attempt to analyse a character so familiar? Leatherstocking isacknowledged, on all hands, to be one of the noblest, as well as moststriking and original creations of fiction. In some of his subsequentnovels, Cooper--for he had not yet Attained to the full maturity of hispowers--heightened and ennobled his first conception of the character, but in the _Pioneers_ it dazzled the world with the splendor of novelty;

His next work was the _Pilot_, in which he showed how, from thevicissitudes of a life at sea, its perils and escapes, from the beauty andterrors of the great deep, from the working of a vessel on a long voyage, and from the frank, brave, and generous but peculiar character of theseaman, may be drawn materials of romance by which the minds of men may beas deeply moved as by anything in the power of romance to present. In thiswalk, Cooper has had many disciples but no rival. All who have sincewritten romances of the sea have been but travellers in a country of whichhe was the great discoverer; and none of them all seemed to have loved aship as Cooper loved it, or have been able so strongly to interest allclasses of readers in its fortunes. Among other personages drawn withgreat strength in the _Pilot_, is the general favorite, Tom Coffin, thethorough seaman with all the virtues and one or two of the infirmities ofhis profession, superstitious, as seamen are apt to be, yet whosesuperstitions strike us as but an irregular growth of his devoutrecognition of the Power who holds the ocean in the hollow of his hand;true-hearted, gentle, full of resources, collected in danger, and at lastcalmly perishing at the post of duty, with the vessel he has long guided, by what I may call a great and magnanimous death. His rougher and coarsercompanion, Boltrope, is drawn with scarcely less skill, and with a no lessvigorous hand. 

The _Pioneers_ is not Cooper's best tale of the American forest, nor, the_Pilot_, perhaps, in all respects, his best tale of the sea; yet, if hehad ceased to write here, the measure of his fame would possibly have beenscarcely less ample than it now is. Neither of them is far below the bestof his productions, and in them appear the two most remarkable creationsof his imagination--two of the most remarkable characters in all fiction. 

It was about this time that my acquaintance with Cooper began, anacquaintance of more than a quarter of a century, in which his deportmenttowards me was that of unvaried kindness. He then resided a considerablepart of the year in this city, and here he had founded a weekly club, towhich many of the most distinguished men of the place belonged. Of themembers who have since passed away, were Chancellor Kent, the jurist;Wiley the intelligent and liberal bookseller; Henry D. Sedgwick, alwaysactive in schemes of benevolence; Jarvis, the painter, a man of infinitehumor, whose jests awoke inextinguishable laughter; De Kay, thenaturalist; Sands, the poet; Jacob Harvey whose genial memory is cherishedby many friends. Of those who are yet living was Morse, the inventor ofthe electric telegraph; Durand, then, one of the first of engravers, andnow no less illustrious as a painter; Henry James Anderson, whoseacquirements might awaken the envy of the ripest scholars of the oldworld; Halleck, the poet and wit; Verplanck, who has given the world thebest edition of Shakspeare for general readers; Dr. King, now at the headof Columbia College, and his two immediate predecessors in that office. Imight enlarge the list with many other names of no less distinction. Thearmy and navy contributed their proportion of members, whose names are onrecord in our national history. Cooper when in town was always present, and I remember being struck with the inexhaustible vivacity of hisconversation and the minuteness of his knowledge, in everything whichdepended upon acuteness of observation and exactness of recollection. Iremember, too, being somewhat startled, coming as I did from the seclusionof a country life, with a certain emphatic frankness in his manner, which, however, I came at last to like and to admire. The club met in the hotelcalled Washington Hall, the site of which, is now occupied by part of thecircuit of Stewart's marble building. 

_Lionel Lincoln_, which cannot be ranked among the successful productionsof Cooper, was published in 1825; and in the year following appeared the_Last of the Mohicans_ which more than recovered the ground lost by itspredecessor. In this work, the construction of the narrative has signaldefects, but it is one of the triumphs of the author's genius that hemakes us unconscious of them while we read. It is only when we have hadtime to awake from the intense interest in which he has held us by thevivid reality of his narrative, and have begun to search for faults incold blood, that we are able to find them, In the _Last of the Mohicans, _we have a bolder portraiture of. Leatherstocking than in the _Pioneers_. 

This work was published in 1826, and in the same year Cooper sailed withhis family for Europe. He left New York as one of the vessels of war, described in his romances of the sea, goes out of port, amidst the thunderof a parting salute from the big guns on the batteries. A dinner was givenhim just before his departure, attended by most of the distinguished menof the city, at which Peter A. Jay presided, and Dr. King addressed him interms which some then thought too glowing, but which would now seemsufficiently temperate, expressing the good wishes of his friends, anddwelling on the satisfaction they promised themselves in possessing soillustrious a representative of American literature in the old world. Cooper was scarcely in France when he remembered his friends of the weeklyclub, and sent frequent missives to be read at its meetings; but the clubmissed its founder went into a decline, and not long afterwards quietlyexpired. 

The first of Cooper's novels published after leaving America: was the_Prairie_, which appeared early in 1827, a work with the admirers of whichI wholly agree. I read it with a certain awe, an undefined sense ofsublimity, such as one experiences on entering, for the first time, uponthose immense grassy deserts from which the work takes its name. Thesquatter and his family--that brawny old man and his large-limbed sons, living in a sort of primitive and patriarchal barbarism, sluggish onordinary occasions, but terrible when roused, like the hurricane thatsweeps the grand but monotonous wilderness in which they dwell--seem anatural growth of ancient fields of the West. Leatherstocking, a hunter inthe _Pioneers_, a warrior in the _Last of the Mohicans_, and now, in hisextreme old age, a trapper on the prairie, declined in strength, butundecayed in intellect, and looking to the near close of his life, and agrave under the long grass, as calmly as the laborer at sunset looks tohis evening slumber, is no less in harmony with the silent desert in whichhe wanders. Equally so are the Indians, still his companions, copies ofthe American savage somewhat idealized, but not the less a part of thewild nature in which they have their haunts. 

Before the year closed, Cooper had given the world another nautical tale, the _Red Rover_, which, with many, is a greater favorite than the _Pilot_, and with reason, perhaps, if we consider principally the incidents, whichare conducted and described with a greater mastery over the springs ofpity and terror. 

It happened to Cooper while he was abroad, as it not unfrequently happensto our countrymen, to hear the United States disadvantageously comparedwith Europe. He had himself been a close observer of things both here andin the old world, and was conscious of being able to refute the detractorsof his country in regard to many points. He published in 1828, after hehad been two years in Europe, a series of letters, entitled _Notions ofthe Americans, by a Travelling Bachelor_, in which he gave a favorableaccount of the working of our institutions, and vindicated his countryfrom various flippant and ill-natured misrepresentations of foreigners. Itis rather too measured in style, but is written from a mind full of thesubject, and from a memory wonderfully stored with particulars. Althoughtwenty-four years have elapsed since its publication, but little of thevindication has become obsolete. 

Cooper loved his country and was proud of her history and herinstitutions, but it puzzles many that he should have appeared, atdifferent times, as her eulogist, and her censor. My friends, she isworthy both of praise and of blame, and Cooper was not the man to shrinkfrom bestowing either, at what seemed to him the proper time. He defendedher from detractors abroad; he sought to save her from flatterers at home. I will not say that he was in as good humor with his country when hewrote _Home at Found_, as when he wrote his _Notions of the Americans_, but this I will say that whether he commended or censured, he did it inthe sincerity of his heart, as a true American, and in the belief that itwould do good. His _Notions of the Americans_ were more likely to lessenthan to increase his popularity in Europe, inasmuch as they were put forthwithout the slightest regard to European prejudices. 

In 1829, he brought out the novel entitled the _Wept of Wishton-Wish_, oneof the few of his works which we now rarely hear mentioned. He was engagedin the composition of a third nautical tale, which he afterwards publishedunder the name of the _Water-Witch, _ when the memorable revolution of theThree Days of July broke out. He saw a government, ruling by fear and indefiance of public opinion, overthrown in a few hours, with littlebloodshed; he saw the French nation, far from being intoxicated with theirnew liberty, peacefully addressing themselves to the discussion of theinstitutions under which they were to live. A work which Cooper afterwardspublished, his _Residence in Europe_, gives the outline of a plan ofgovernment for France furnished by him at that time, to La Fayette, withwhom he was in habits of close and daily intimacy. It was his idea to givepermanence to the new order of things by associating two strong parties inits support, the friends of legitimacy and the republicans. He suggestedthat Henry V. Should be called to the hereditary throne of France, a youthyet to be educated as the head of a free people, that the peerage shouldbe abolished, and a legislature of two chambers established, with aconstituency of at least a million and a half of electors; the senate tobe chosen by the general vote, as the representative of the entire nation, and the members of the other house to be chosen by districts, as therepresentatives of the local interests. To the middle ground of politicsso ostentatiously occupied by Louis Philippe at the beginning of hisreign, he predicted a brief duration, believing that it would speedily bemerged in despotism, or supplanted by the popular rule. His prophecy hasbeen fulfilled more amply than he could have imagined--fulfilled in bothits alternatives. 

In one of the controversies of that time, Cooper bore a distinguishedpart. The _Revue Britannique_, a periodical published in Paris, boldlyaffirmed the government of the United States to be one of the mostexpensive in the world, and its people among the most heavily taxed ofmankind. This assertion was supported with a certain show of proof, andthe writer affected to have established the conclusion that a republicmust necessarily be more expensive than a monarchy. The partisans of thecourt were delighted with the reasoning of the article, and claimed atriumph over our ancient friend La Fayette, who, during forty years, hadnot ceased to hold up the government of the United States as the cheapestin the world. At the suggestion of La Fayette, Cooper replied to thisattack upon his country in a letter which was translated into French, and, together with, another from General Bertrand, for many years a resident inAmerica, was laid before the people of France. 

These, two letters provoked a shower of rejoinders, in which, according toCooper, misstatements were mingled with scurrility. He commenced a seriesof letters on the question in dispute, which were published in the_National_, a daily sheet, and gave the first evidence of thatextraordinary acuteness in controversy which was no less characteristic ofhis mind than the vigor of his imagination. The enemies of La Fayettepressed into their service Mr. Leavitt Harris, of New Jersey, afterwardsour _chargé d'affaires_ at the court of France, but Cooper replied to Mr. Harris in the _National_ of May 2d, 1832, closing a discussion in which hehad effectually silenced those who objected to our institutions on thescore of economy. Of these letters, which would form an important chapterin political science, no entire copy, I have been told, is to be found inthis country. 

One of the consequences of earnest controversy is almost invariablypersonal ill-will. Cooper was told by one who held an official stationunder the French government, that the part he had taken in this disputeconcerning taxation would neither be forgotten nor forgiven. The dislikehe had incurred in that quarter was strengthened by his novel of the_Bravo_, published in the year 1831, while he was in the midst of hisquarrel with the aristocratic party. In that work, of which he has himselfjustly said that it was thoroughly American in all that belonged to it, his object was to show how institutions, professedly created to preventviolence and wrong, become, when perverted from their natural destination, the instruments of injustice; and how, in every system which makes powerthe exclusive property of the strong, the weak are sure to be oppressed. The work is written with all the vigor and spirit of his best novels; themagnificent city of Venice, in which the scene of the story is laid, stands continually before the imagination; and from time to time thegorgeous ceremonies of the Venetian republic pass under our eyes, such asthe marriage of the Doge with the Adriatic, and the, contest of thegondolas for the prize of speed. The Bravo himself and several of theother characters are strongly conceived and distinguished, but the mostremarkable of them all is the spirited and generous-hearted daughter ofthe jailer. 

It has been said by some critics, who judge of Cooper by his failures, that he had no skill in drawing female characters. By the same process, it might, I suppose, be shown that Raphael was but an ordinary painter. Itmust be admitted that when Cooper drew a lady of high breeding, he was aptto pay too much attention to the formal part of her character, and to makeher a mere bundle of cold proprieties. But when he places his heroines insome situation in life which leaves him nothing to do but to make themnatural and true, I know of nothing finer, nothing more attractive or moreindividual than the portraitures he has given us. 

_Figaro_, the wittiest of the French periodicals, and at that time on theliberal side, commended the _Bravo_; the journals on the side of thegovernment censured it. _Figaro_ afterwards passed into the hands of thearistocratic party, and Cooper became the object of its attacks. He wasnot, however, a man to be driven from any purpose which he had formed, either by flattery or abuse, and both were tried with equal ill success. In 1832 he published his _Heidenmauer_, and in 1833 his _Headsman ofBerne_, both with a political design similar to that of the _Bravo_, though neither of them takes the same high rank among his works. 

In 1833, after a residence of seven years in different parts of Europe, but mostly in France, Cooper returned to his native country. The welcomewhich met him here was somewhat chilled by the effect of the attacks madeupon him in France, and remembering with what zeal, and at what sacrificeof the universal acceptance which his works would otherwise have met, hehad maintained the cause of his country against the wits and orators ofthe court party in France, we cannot wonder that he should have felt thiscoldness as undeserved. He published, shortly after his arrival in thiscountry, _A Letter to his Countrymen_ in which he complained of thecensures cast upon him in the American newspapers, gave a history of thepart he had taken in exposing the misstatements of the _RévueBritannique_, and warned his countrymen against the too common error ofresorting, with a blind deference, to foreign authorities, often swayed bynational or political prejudices, for our opinions of American authors. Going beyond this topic, he examined and reprehended the habit of applyingto the interpretation of our own constitution maxims derived from thepractice of other governments, particularly that of Great Britain. Theimportance of construing that instrument by its own principles, heillustrated by considering several points in dispute between parties ofthe day, on which he gave very decided opinions. 

The principal effect of this pamphlet, as it seemed to me, was to awakenin certain quarters a kind of resentment that a successful writer offiction should presume to give lessons in politics. I meddle not here withthe conclusions to which he arrived, though must be allowed to say thatthey were stated and argued with great ability. In 1835 Cooper published_The Monnikins_, a satirical work, partly with a political aim; and in thesame year appeared his _American Democrat_, a view of the civil and socialrelations of the United States, discussing more gravely various topicstouched upon in the former work, and pointing out in what respects hedeemed the American people in their practice to have fallen short of theexcellence of their institutions. 

He found time, however, for a more genial task--that of giving to theworld his observations on foreign countries. In 1836 appeared his_Sketches of Switzerland_, a series of letters in four volumes, the secondpart published about two months after the first, a delightful work, written in a more fluent and flexible style than his _Notions of theAmericans_. The first part of _Gleanings in Europe, _ giving an account ofhis residence in France, followed in the same year; and the second part ofthe same work, containing his observations on England, was published inApril, 1837. In these works, forming a series of eight volumes, he relatesand describes with much of the same distinctness as in his novels; and hisremarks on the manners and institutions of the different countries, oftensagacious, and always peculiarly his own, derive, from their frequentreference to contemporary events, an historical interest. 

In 1838 appeared _Homeward Bound_ and _Home as Found_, two satiricalnovels, in which Cooper held up to ridicule a certain class of conductorsof the newspaper press in America. These works had not the good fortune tobecome popular. Cooper did not, and, because he was too deeply in earnest, perhaps would not, infuse into his satirical works that gaiety withoutwhich satire becomes wearisome. I believe, however, that if they had beenwritten by anybody else they would have met with more favor; but the worldknew that Cooper was able to give them something better, and would not besatisfied with anything short of his best, Some childishly imagined thatbecause, in the two works I have just mentioned, a newspaper editor isintroduced, in whose character almost every possible vice of hisprofession is made to find a place, Cooper intended an indiscriminateattack upon the whole body of writers for the newspaper press, forgettingthat such a portraiture was a satire only on those to whom it bore alikeness We have become less sensitive and more reasonable of late, andthe monthly periodicals make sport for their readers of the follies andignorance of the newspaper editors, without awakening the slightestresentment; but Cooper led the way in this sort of discipline, and Iremember some instances of towering indignation at his audacity expressedin the journals of that time. 

The next year Cooper made his appearance before the public in a newdepartment of writing; his _Naval History of the United States_ wasbrought out in two octavo volumes at Philadelphia, by Carey and Lea. Inwriting his stories of the sea, his attention had been much turned to thissubject, and his mind filled with striking incidents from expeditions andbattles in which our naval commanders had been engaged. This made his taskthe lighter; but he gathered his materials with great industry, and with aconscientious attention to exactness, for he was not a man to take a factfor granted, or allow imagination to usurp the place of inquiry Hedigested our naval annals into a narrative, written with spirit it istrue, but with that air of sincere dealing which the reader willinglytakes as a pledge of its authenticity. 

An abridgment of the work was afterwards prepared and published by theauthor. The _Edinburgh Review_, in an article professing to examine thestatements both of Cooper's work and of _The History of the English Navy_, written by Mr. James, a surgeon by profession, made a violent attack uponthe American historian. Unfortunately, it took James's narrative as itssole guide, and followed it implicitly. Cooper replied in the _DemocraticReview_ for January, 1840, and by a masterly analysis of his statements, convicting James of self-contradiction in almost every particular in whichhe differed from himself, refuted both James and the reviewer. It was arefutation which admitted of no rejoinder. 

Scarce anything in Cooper's life was so remarkable, or so strikinglyillustrated his character, as his contest with the newspaper press. Heengaged in it after provocations, many and long endured, and prosecuted itthrough years with great energy, perseverance, and practical dexterity, till he was left master of the field. In what I am about to say of it, Ihope I shall not give offence to any one, as I shall speak without theslightest malevolence towards those with whom he waged this controversy. Over some of them, as over their renowned adversary, the grave has nowclosed. Yet where shall the truth be spoken, if not beside the grave?

I have already alluded to the principal causes which provoked thenewspaper attacks upon Cooper. If he had never meddled with questions ofgovernment on either side of the Atlantic, and never satirized thenewspaper press, I have little doubt that he would have been spared theseattacks. I cannot, however, ascribe them all, or even the greater part ofthem, to personal malignity. One journal followed the example of another, with little reflection, I think, in most cases, till it became a sort offashion, not merely to decry his works, but to arraign his motives. 

It is related that, in 1832, while he was at Paris, an article was shownhim in an American newspaper, purporting to be a criticism on one of hisworks, but reflecting with much asperity on his personal character. "Icare nothing, " he is reported to have said, "for the criticism, but I amnot indifferent to the slander. If these attacks on my character should bekept up five years after my return to America, I shall resort to the NewYork courts for protection. " He gave the newspaper press of this state thefull period of forbearance on which he had fixed, but finding thatforbearance seemed to encourage assault, he sought redress in the courtsof law. 

When these litigations were first begun, I recollect it seemed to me thatCooper had taken a step which would give him a great deal of trouble, andeffect but little good. I said to myself--

 "Alas! Leviathan is not so tamed!"

As he proceeded, however, I saw that he had understood the matter betterthan I. He put a hook into the nose of this huge monster, wallowing in hisinky pool and bespattering the passers-by; he dragged him to the land andmade him tractable. One suit followed another; one editor was sued, Ithinly half-a-dozen times; some of them found themselves under a secondindictment before the first was tried. In vindicating himself to hisreader, against the charge of publishing one libel, the angry journalistoften floundered into another. The occasions of these prosecutions seem tohave been always carefully considered, for Cooper was almost uniformlysuccessful in obtaining verdicts. In a letter of his, written in February, 1843, about five years, I think, from the commencement of the firstprosecutions, he says, "I have beaten every man I have sued, who has notretracted his libels. "

In one of these suits, commenced against the late William L. Stone of the_Commercial Advertiser_, and referred to the arbitration of threedistinguished lawyers, he argued himself the question of the authenticityof his account of the battle of Lake Erie, which was the matter indispute. I listened to his opening; it was clear, skilful, and persuasive, but his closing argument was said to be splendidly eloquent. "I have heardnothing like it, " said a barrister to me, "since the days of Emmet. "

Cooper behaved liberally towards his antagonists, so far as pecuniarydamages were concerned, though some of them wholly escaped their paymentby bankruptcy. After, I believe, about, six years of litigation, thenewspaper press gradually subsided into a pacific disposition towards itsadversary, and the contest closed with the account of pecuniary profit andloss, so far as he was concerned, nearly balanced. The occasion of thesesuits was far from honorable to those who provoked them, but the resultwas I had almost said, creditable to all parties; to him, as thecourageous prosecutor, to the administration of justice in this country, and to the docility of the newspaper press, which he had disciplined intogood manners. 

It was while he was in the midst of these litigations, that he published, in 1840, the _Pathfinder_. People had begun to think of him as acontroversialist, acute, keen, and persevering, occupied with his personalwrongs and schemes of attack and defence. They were startled from thisestimate of his character by the moral duty of that glorious work--I mustso call it; by the vividness and force of its delineations, by theunspoiled love of nature apparent in every page, and by the fresh and warmemotions which everywhere gave life to the narrative and the dialogue. Cooper was now in his fifty-first year, but nothing which he had producedin the earlier part of his literary life was written with so much of whatmight seem the generous fervor of youth, or showed the faculty ofinvention in higher vigor. I recollect that near the time of itsappearance I was informed of an observation made upon it by one highlydistinguished in the literature of our country and of the age, betweenwhom and the author an unhappy coolness had for some years existed. As hefinished the reading of the Pathfinder, he exclaimed, "They may say whatthey will of Cooper; the man who wrote this book is not only a great man, but a good man. "

The readers of the _Pathfinder_ were quickly reconciled to the fourthappearance of Leatherstocking, when they saw him made to act a differentpart from any which the author had hitherto assigned him--when they sawhim shown as a lover, and placed in the midst of associations whichinvested his character with a higher and more affecting heroism. In thiswork are two female characters, portrayed in a masterly manner, --thecorporal's daughter, Mabel Dunham, generous, resolute, yet womanly, andthe young Indian woman, called by her tribe the Dew of June, apersonification of female truth, affection, and sympathy, with a strongaboriginal cast, yet a product of nature as bright and pure as that fromwhich she is named. 

_Mercedes of Castile_, published near the close of the same year, has noneof the stronger characteristics of Cooper's genius; but in the_Deerslayer_, which appeared in 1841, another of his Leatherstockingtales, he gave us a work rivalling the Pathfinder. Leatherstocking isbrought before us in his early youth, in the first exercise of that keensagacity which is blended so harmoniously with a simple and ingenuousgoodness. The two daughters of the retired freebooter dwelling on theOtsego lake, inspire scarcely less interest than the principal personage;Judith, in the pride of her beauty and intellect, her good impulsescontending with a fatal love of admiration, holding us fascinated with aconstant interest in her fate, which, with consummate skill, we arepermitted rather to conjecture than to know; and Hetty, scarcely lessbeautiful in person, weak-minded, but wise in the midst, of that weaknessbeyond the wisdom of the loftiest intellect, through the power ofconscience and religion. The character of Hetty would have been ahazardous experiment in feebler hands, but in his it was admirablysuccessful. 

The _Two Admirals_ and _Wing-and-Wing_ were given to the public in 1842, both of them taking a high rank among Cooper's sea-tales. The first ofthese is a sort of naval epic in prose; the flight and chase of armedvessels hold us in breathless suspense, and the sea-fights are describedwith a terrible power. In the later sea-tales of Cooper, it seems to methat the mastery with which he makes his grand processions of events passbefore the mind's eye is even greater than in his earlier. The next yearhe published the _Wyandotte or Hutted Knoll_, one of his beautifulromances of the woods, and in 1844 two more of his sea-stories, _Afloatand Ashore_ and _Miles Wallingford_its sequel. The long series of hisnautical tales was closed by _Jack Tier or the Florida Reef, _ published in1848, when Cooper was in his sixtieth year, and it is as full of spirit, energy, invention, life-like presentation of objects and events--

 The vision and the faculty divine--

as anything he has written. 

Let me pause here to say that Cooper, though not a manufacturer of verse, was in the highest sense of the word a poet; his imagination wrought noblyand grandly, and imposed its creations on the mind of the reader forrealities. With him there was no withering, or decline, or disuse of thepoetic faculty; as he stepped downwards from the zenith of life, no shadowor chill came over it; it was like the year of some genial climates, aperpetual season of verdure, bloom, and fruitfulness. As these works cameout, I was rejoiced to see that he was unspoiled by the controversies inwhich he had allowed, himself to become engaged; that they had not givento these better expressions of his genius, any tinge of misanthropy, orappearance of contracting and closing sympathies any trace of an interestin his fellow-beings less large and free than in his earlier works. 

Before the, appearance of his _Jack Tier_, Cooper published, in 1845 andthe following year, a series of novels relating to the Anti-rent question, in which he took great interest. He thought that the dispositionmanifested in certain quarters to make con cessions, to what he deemed adenial of the rights of property was a first step in a most dangerouspath. To discourage this disposition, he wrote _Satanstoe, TheChainbearer, _ and _The Redskins_. They are didactic in their design, andwant the freedom of invention which belongs to Cooper's best novels; butif they had been written by anybody but Cooper, --by a member of Congress, for example, or an eminent politician of any class, --they would have madehis reputation. It was said, I am told, by a distinguished jurist of ourstate, that they entitled the author to as high a place in law as hisother works had won for him in literature. 

I had thought, in meditating the plan of this discourse, to mention allthe works of Mr. Cooper, but the length to which I have found it extendinghas induced me to pass over several written in the last ten years of hislife, and to confine myself to those which best illustrate his literarycharacter. The last of his novels was _The Ways of the Hour_, a work inwhich the objections he entertained to the trial by jury in civil causeswere stated in the form of a narrative. 

It is a voluminous catalogue--that of Cooper's published works--but itcomprises not all he wrote. He committed to the fire, without remorse, many of the fruits of his literary industry. It was understood, some yearssince, that he had a work ready for the press on the _Middle States of theUnion_, principally illustrative of their social history; but it has notbeen found among his manuscripts, and the presumption is that he must havedestroyed it. He had planned a work on the _Towns of Manhattan_, for thepublication of which he made arrangements with Mr. Putnam of this city, and a part of which, already written, was in press at the time of hisdeath. The printed part has since been destroyed by fire, but a portion ofthe manuscript was recovered. The work, I learn, will be completed by oneof the family, who, within a few years past, has earned an honorable nameamong the authors of our country. Great as was the number of his works, and great as was the favor with which they were received, the pecuniaryrewards of his success were far less than has been generallysupposed--scarcely, as I am informed, a tenth part of what the commonrumor made them. His fame was infinitely the largest acknowledgment whichthis most successful of American authors received for his labors. 

_The Ways of the Hour_ appeared in 1850. At this time his personalappearance was remarkable. He seemed in perfect health, and in the highestenergy and activity of his faculties. I have scarcely seen any man at thatperiod of life on whom his years sat more lightly. His conversation hadlost none of its liveliness, though it seemed somewhat more genial andforbearing in tone, and his spirits none of their elasticity. He wascontemplating, I have since been told, another Leatherstocking tale, deeming that he had not yet exhausted the character; and those whoconsider what new resources it yielded him in the _Pathfinder_ and the_Deerslayer_, will readily conclude that he was not mistaken. 

The disease, however, by which he was removed, was even then impendingover him, and not long afterwards his friends here were grieved to learnthat his health was declining. He came to New York so changed that theylooked at him with sorrow, and after a stay of some weeks, partly for thebenefits of medical advice returned to Cooperstown, to leave it no more. His complaint gradually gained strength, subdued a constitution originallyrobust, and finally passed into a confirmed dropsy. In August, 1851, hewas visited by his excellent and learned friend, Dr. Francis, a member ofthe weekly club which he had founded in the early part of his literarycareer. He found him bearing the sufferings of his disease with manlyfirmness, gave him such medical counsels as the malady appeared torequire, prepared him delicately for its fatal termination, and returnedto New York with the most melancholy anticipations. In a few daysafterwards, Cooper expired, amid the deep affliction of his family, on the14th of September, the day before that on which he should have completedhis sixty-second year. He died, apparently without pain, in peace andreligious hope. The relations of man to his Maker, and to that state ofbeing for which the present is but a preparation, had occupied much of histhoughts during his whole lifetime, and he crossed, with a serenecomposure, the mysterious boundary which divides this life from the next. 

The departure of such a man, in the full strength of his faculties, --onwhom the country had for thirty years looked as one of the permanentornaments of its literature, and whose name had been so often associatedwith praise, with renown, with controversy, with blame, but never withdeath, --diffused a universal awe. It was as if an earthquake had shakenthe ground on which we stood, and showed the grave opening by our path. Inthe general grief for his loss, his virtues only were remembered; and hisfailings forgotten. 

Of his failings I have said little; such as he had were obvious to all theworld; they lay on the surface of his character; those who knew him leastmade the most account of them. With a character so made up of positivequalities--a character so independent and uncompromising, and with asensitiveness far more acute than he was willing to acknowledge, it is notsurprising that occasions frequently arose to bring him, sometimes intofriendly collision, and sometimes in to graver disagreements andmisunderstandings with his fellow-men. For his infirmities, his friendsfound an ample counterpoise in the generous sincerity of his nature. Henever thought of disguising his opinions, and he abhorred all disguise inothers; he did not even deign to use that show of regard towards those ofwhom he did not think well, which the world tolerates, and almost demands. A manly expression of opinion, however different from his own, commandedhis respect. Of his own works, he spoke with the same freedom as of theworks of others; and never hesitated to express his judgment of a book forthe reason that it was written by himself: yet he could bear withgentleness any dissent from the estimate lie placed on his own writings. His character was like the bark of the cinnamon, a rough and astringentrind without, and an intense sweetness within. Those who penetrated belowthe surface found a genial temper, warm affections, and a heart with ampleplace for his friends, their pursuits, their good name, their welfare. They found him a philanthropist, though not precisely after the fashion ofthe day; a religious man, most devout where devotion is most apt to be afeeling rather than a custom, in the household circle; hospitable, and tothe extent of his means liberal-handed in acts of charity. They found, also, that though in general he would as soon have thought of giving up anold friend as of giving up an opinion, he was not proof against testimony, and could part with a mistaken opinion as one parts with an old friend whohas been proved faithless and unworthy. In short, Cooper was one of thosewho, to be loved, must be intimately known. 

Of his literary character I have spoken largely in the narrative of hislife, but there are yet one or two remarks which must be made to do itjustice. In that way of writing in which he excelled, it seems to me thathe united, in a pre-eminent degree, those qualities which enabled him tointerest the largest number of readers. He wrote not for the fastidious, the over-refined, the morbidly delicate; for these find in his geniussomething too robust for their liking--something by which theirsensibilities are too rudely shaken; but he wrote for mankind atlarge--for men and women in the ordinary healthful state of feeling--andin their admiration he found his reward. It is for this class that publiclibraries are obliged to provide themselves with an extraordinary numberof copies of his works: the number in the Mercantile Library in this city, I am told, is forty. Hence it is, that he has earned a fame, wider, Ithink, than any author of modern times--wider, certainly, than any author, of any age, ever enjoyed in his lifetime. All his excellences aretranslatable--they pass readily into languages the least allied in theirgenius to that in which he wrote, and in them he touches the heart andkindles the imagination with the same power as in the original English. 

Cooper was not wholly without humor; it is sometimes found lurking in thedialogue of Harvey Birch, and of Leatherstocking but it forms noconsiderable element in his works; and if it did, it would have stood inthe way of his universal popularity; since of all qualities, it is themost difficult to transfuse into a foreign language. Nor did the effect heproduced upon the reader depend on any grace of style which would escape atranslator of ordinary skill. With his style, it is true, he took greatpains, and in his earlier works, I am told, sometimes altered the proofssent from the printer so largely that they might be said to be writtenover Yet he attained no special felicity, variety, or compass ofexpression. His style, however, answered his purpose; it has defects, butit is manly and clear, and stamps on the mind of the reader the impressionhe desired to convey. I am not sure that some of the very defects ofCooper's novels do not add, by a certain force of contrast, to their powerover the mind. He is long in getting at the interest of his narrative. Theprogress of the plot, at first, is like that of one of his own vessels ofwar, slowly, heavily, and even awkwardly working out of a harbor. We areimpatient and weary, but when the vessel is once in the open sea, andfeels the free breath of heaven in her full sheets, our delight andadmiration is all the greater at the grace, the majesty, and power withwhich she divides and bears down the waves, and pursues her course, atwill, over the great waste of waters. 

Such are the works so widely read, and so universally admired, in all thezones of the globe, and by men of every kindred and every tongue; workswhich have made of those who dwell in remote latitudes, wanderers in ourforests, and observers of our manners, and have inspired them with aninterest in our history. A gentleman who had returned from Europe justbefore the death of Cooper, was asked what he found the people of theContinent doing. "They all are reading Cooper, " he answered; "in thelittle kingdom of Holland, with its three millions of inhabitants, Ilooked into four different translations of Cooper in the language of thecountry. " A traveller, who has seen much of the middle classes of Italy, lately said to me, "I found that all they knew of America, and that wasnot little, they had learned from Cooper's novels; from him they hadlearned the story of American liberty, and through him they had beenintroduced to our Washington; they had read his works till the shores ofthe Hudson, and the valleys of Westchester, and the banks of Otsego lake, had become to them familiar ground. "

Over all the countries into whose speech this great man's works have beenrendered by the labors of their scholars, the sorrow of that loss which wedeplore is now diffusing itself. Here we lament the ornament of ourcountry, there they mourn the death of him who delighted the human race. Even now, while I speak, the pulse of grief which is passing through thenations has haply just reached some remote neighborhood; the news of hisdeath has been brought to some dwelling on the slopes of the Andes, oramidst the snowy wastes of the North, and the dark-eyed damsel of Chile, or the fair-haired maid of Norway, is sad to think that he whose storiesof heroism and true love have so often kept her for hours from her pillow, lives no more. 

He is gone! but the creations of his genius, fixed in living words, survive the frail material organs by which the words were first traced. They partake of a middle nature, between the deathless mind and thedecaying body of which they are the common offspring, and are, therefore, destined to a duration, if not eternal, yet indefinite. The examples hehas given in his glorious fictions, of heroism, honor, and truth, of largesympathies between man and man, of all that is good, great, and excellent, embodied in personages marked with so strong an individuality that weplace them among our friends and favorites; his frank and generous men, his gentle and noble women, shall live through centuries to come, and onlyperish with our language. I have said with our language; but who shall saywhen it may be the fate of the English language to be numbered with theextinct forms of human speech? Who shall declare which of the presenttongues of the civilized world will survive its fellows? It may be thatsome one of them, more fortunate than the rest, will long outlast them, insome undisturbed quarter of the globe, and in the midst of a newcivilization. The creations of Cooper's genius, even now transferred tothat language, may remain to be the delight of the nations through anothergreat cycle of centuries, beginning after the English language and itscontemporaneous form of civilization shall have passed away. 

Preface to the New Edition

This book originally owed its existence to an accident, and it was printedunder circumstances that prevented the usual supervision of the press bythe author. The consequences were many defects in plot, style, andarrangement, that were entirely owing to precipitation and inexperience;and quite as many faults, of another nature, that are to be traced solelyto a bad manuscript and worse proof reading. Perhaps no novel of our timeswas worst printed than the first edition of this work. More than a hundredperiods were placed in the middle of sentences, and perhaps five timesthat number were omitted in places where they ought to have beeninserted. It is scarcely necessary to add, that passages were renderedobscure, and that entire paragraphs were unintelligible. 

Most of the faults just mentioned have now been corrected, though it wouldrequire more labor than would produce an entirely new work, to repair allthe inherent defects that are attributable to haste, and to theawkwardness of a novice in the art of composing. In this respect, the workand its blemishes are probably inseparable. Still, the reader will now bebetter rewarded for his time, and, on the whole; the book is much moreworthy of his attention. 

It has been said that Precaution owes its existence to fortuitouscircumstances. The same causes induced its English plot, and, in ameasure, the medley of characters that no doubt will appear a mistake inthe conception. It can scarcely be said that the work was commenced withany view to publication; and when it was finally put into a publisher'shands, with "all its imperfections on its head, " the last thought of thewriter was any expectation that it would be followed by a series ofsimilar tales from the same pen. 

More than this the public will feel no interest in knowing, and less thanthis the author could not consent to say on presenting to the world areprint of a book with so few claims to notice. 

PRECAUTION. 

Chapter I. 

"I wonder if we are to have a neighbor in the Deanery soon, " inquiredClara Moseley, addressing herself to a small party assembled in herfather's drawing-room, while standing at a window which commanded adistant view of the house in question. 

"Oh yes, " replied her brother, "the agent has let it to a Mr. Jarvis for acouple of years, and he is to take possession this week. "

"And who is the Mr. Jarvis that is about to become so near a neighbor?"asked Sir Edward Moseley. 

"Why, sir, I learn he has been a capital merchant; that he has retiredfrom business with a large fortune; that he has, like yourself, sir, anonly hope for his declining years in son, an officer in the army; and, moreover, that he has couple of fine daughters; so, sir, he is a man offamily in one sense, at least, you see. But, " dropping his voice, "whetherhe is a man of family in your sense, Jane, " looking at his second sister, "is more than I could discover. "

"I hope you did not take the trouble, sir, to inquire on my account, "retorted Jane, coloring slightly with vexation at his speech. 

"Indeed I did, my dear sis, and solely on your account, " replied thelaughing brother, "for you well know that no gentility, no husband; andit's dull work to you young ladies without at least a possibility ofmatrimony; as for Clara, she is----"

Here he was stopped by his youngest sister Emily placing her hand on hismouth, as she whispered in his ear, "John, you forget the anxiety of acertain gentleman about a fair incognita at Bath, and a list of inquiriesconcerning her lineage, and a few other indispensables. " John, in histurn, colored, and affectionately kissing the hand which kept him silent, addressed himself to Jane, and by his vivacity and good humor soonrestored her to complacency. 

"I rejoice, " said Lady Moseley, "that Sir William has found a tenant, however; for next to occupying it himself, it is a most desirable thing tohave a good tenant in it, on account of the circle in which we live. "

"And Mr. Jarvis has the great goodness of money, by John's account, "caustically observed Mrs. Wilson, who was a sister of Sir Edward's. 

"Let me tell you, madam, " cried the rector of the parish, looking aroundhim pleasantly, and who was pretty constant, and always a welcome visitorin the family, "that a great deal of money is a very good thing in itself, and that a great many very good things may be done with it. "

"Such as paying tythes, ha! doctor, " cried Mr. Haughton, a gentleman oflanded property in the neighborhood, of plain exterior, but great goodnessof heart, and between whom and the rector subsisted the most cordial goodwill. 

"Aye, tythes, or halves, as the baronet did here, when he forgave oldGregson one half his rent, and his children the other. "

"Well, but, my dear, " said Sir Edward to his wife, "you must not starveour friends because we are to have a neighbor. William has stood with thedining-room door open these five minutes--"

Lady Moseley gave her hand to the rector, and the company followed them, without any order, to the dinner table. 

The party assembled around the hospitable board of the baronet wascomposed, besides the before-mentioned persons, of the wife of Mr. Haughton, a woman of much good sense and modesty of deportment: theirdaughter, a young lady conspicuous for nothing but good nature; and thewife and son of the rector--the latter but lately admitted to holy ordershimself. 

The remainder of the day passed in an uninterrupted flow of pleasantconversation, the natural consequence of a unison of opinions on allleading questions, the parties having long known and esteemed each otherfor those qualities which soonest reconcile us to the common frailties ofour nature. On parting at the usual hour, it was agreed to meet that dayweek at the rectory, and the doctor, on making his bow to Lady Moseley, observed, that he intended, in virtue of his office, to make an early callon the Jarvis family, and that, if possible, he would persuade them to beof the party. 

Sir Edward Moseley was descended from one of the most respectable of thecreations of his order by James, and had inherited, with many of thevirtues of his ancestor, an estate which placed him amongst the greatestlanded proprietors of the county. But, as it had been an invariable rulenever to deduct a single acre from the inheritance of the eldest son, andthe extravagance of his mother, who was the daughter of a nobleman, hadmuch embarrassed the affairs of his father, Sir Edward, on coming intopossession of his estate, had wisely determined to withdraw from the gayworld, by renting his house in town, and retiring altogether to hisrespectable mansion, about a hundred miles from the metropolis. Here hehoped, by a course of systematic but liberal economy, to release himselffrom all embarrassments, and to make such a provision for his youngerchildren, the three daughters already mentioned, as he conceived theirbirth entitled them to expect. Seventeen years enabled him to accomplishthis plan; and for more than eighteen months, Sir Edward had resumed thehospitality and appearance usual in his family, and had even promised hisdelighted girls to take possession, the ensuing winter, of the house inSt. James's Square. Nature had not qualified Sir Edward for great orcontinued exertions, and the prudent decision he had taken to retrieve hisfortunes, was perhaps an act of as much forecast and vigor as his talentsor energy would afford; it was the step most obviously for his interests, and the one that was safest both in its execution and consequences, and assuch it had been adopted: but, had it required a single particle more ofenterprise or calculation, it would have been beyond his powers, and theheir might have yet labored under the difficulties which distressed hismore brilliant, but less prudent parent. 

The baronet was warmly attached to his wife; and as she was a woman ofmany valuable and no obnoxious qualities, civil and attentive by habit toall around her, and perfectly disinterested in her attachments to her ownfamily, nothing in nature could partake more of perfection in the eyes ofher husband and children than the conduct of this beloved relative. YetLady Moseley had her failings, however, although few were disposed to viewher errors with that severity which truth and a just discrimination ofcharacter render necessary. Her union had been one of love, and for atime it had been objected to by the friends of her husband, on the scoreof fortune; but constancy and perseverance prevailed, and the protractedand inconsequent opposition of his parents had left no other effects thanan aversion in the children to the exercise of parental authority, inmarrying their own descendents: an aversion which, though common to boththe worthy baronet and his wife, was somewhat different in its twosubjects. In the husband it was quiescent; but in the wife, it wasslightly shaded with the female _esprit de corps_, of having her daughterscomfortably established, and that in due season. Lady Moseley wasreligious, but hardly pious; she was charitable in deeds, but not alwaysin opinions; her intentions were pure, but neither her prejudices nor herreasoning powers suffered her to be at all times consistent. Still fewknew her that did not love her, and none were ever heard to say aughtagainst her breeding, her morals, or her disposition. 

The sister of Sir Edward had been married, early in life, to an officer inthe army, who, spending much of his time abroad on service, had left her aprey to that solicitude to which she was necessarily a prey by herattachment to her husband. To find relief from this perpetual andlife-wearing anxiety, an invaluable friend had pointed out the only trueremedy of which her case admitted, a research into her own heart, and theemployments of active benevolence. The death of her husband, who lost hislife in battle, caused her to withdraw in a great measure from the world, and gave time and inducement for reflections, which led to impressions onreligion that were sufficiently correct in themselves, and indispensableas the basis of future happiness, but which became slightly tinctured withthe sternness of her vigorous mind, and possibly, at times were moreunbending than was compatible with the comforts of this world; a fault, however, of manner, more than of matter. Warmly attached to her brotherand his children, Mrs. Wilson, who had never been a mother herself, yielded to their earnest entreaties to become one of the family; andalthough left by the late General Wilson with a large income, ever sincehis death she had given up her own establishment, and devoted most of hertime to the formation of the character of her youngest niece. Lady Moseleyhad submitted this child entirely to the control of the aunt; and it wascommonly thought Emily would inherit the very handsome sum left at thedisposal of the General's widow. 

Both Sir Edward and Lady Moseley possessed a large share of personalbeauty when young, and it had descended in common to all their children, but more particularly to the two youngest daughters. Although a strongfamily resemblance, both in person and character, existed between theseclosely connected relatives, yet it existed with shades of distinctionthat had very different effects on their conduct, and led to results whichstamped their lives with widely differing degrees of happiness. 

Between the families at Moseley Hall and the rectory, there had existedfor many years an intimacy founded on esteem and on long intercourse. Doctor Ives was a clergyman of deep piety; and of very considerabletalents; he possessed, in addition to a moderate benefice, an independentfortune in right of his wife, who was the only child of a distinguishednaval officer. Both were well connected, well bred, and well disposed totheir fellow creatures. They were blessed with but one child, the youngdivine we have mentioned, who promised to equal his father in all thosequalities which had made the Doctor the delight of his friends, and almostthe idol of his parishioners. 

Between Francis Ives and Clara Moseley, there had been an attachment, which had grown with their years, from childhood. He had been hercompanion in their youthful recreations, had espoused her little quarrels, and participated in her innocent pleasures, for so many years, and withsuch an evident preference for each other in the youthful pair, that, onleaving college to enter on the studies of his sacred calling with hisfather, Francis rightly judged that none other would make his future lifeas happy, as the mild, the tender, the unassuming Clara. Their passion, ifso gentle a feeling deserve the term, received the sanction of theirparents, and the two families waited only for the establishment of theyoung divine, to perfect the union. 

The retirement of Sir Edward's family had been uniform, with the exceptionof an occasional visit to an aged uncle of his wife's, and who, in return, spent much of his time with them at the Hall, and who had openly declaredhis intention of making the children of Lady Moseley his heirs. The visitsof Mr. Benfield were always hailed with joy, and as an event that calledfor more than ordinary gaiety; for, although rough in manner, and somewhatinfirm from years, the old bachelor, who was rather addicted to thecustoms in which he had indulged in his youth, and was fond of dwelling onthe scenes of former days, was universally beloved where he was intimatelyknown, for an unbounded though eccentric philanthropy. 

The illness of the mother-in-law of Mrs. Wilson had called her to Bath thewinter preceding the spring when our history commences, and she had beenaccompanied thither by her nephew and favorite niece. John and Emily, during the month of their residence in that city, were in the practice ofmaking daily excursions in its environs. It was in one of these littledrives that they were of accidental service to a very young and verybeautiful woman, apparently in low health. They had taken her up in theircarriage, and conveyed her to a farm-house where she resided, during afaintness which had come over her in a walk; and her beauty air, andmanner, altogether so different from those around her, had interested themboth to a painful degree. They had ventured to call the following day toinquire after her welfare, and this visit led to a slight intercourse, which continued for the fortnight they remained there. 

John had given himself some trouble to ascertain who she was, but in vain. They could merely learn that her life was blameless, that she saw no onebut themselves, and her dialect raised a suspicion that she was notEnglish, It was to this unknown fair Emily alluded in her playful attemptto stop the heedless rattle of her brother, who was not always restrainedfrom uttering what he thought by a proper regard for the feelings ofothers. 

Chapter II. 

The morning succeeding the day of the dinner at the Hall, Mrs. Wilson, with all her nieces and her nephew, availed herself of the fineness of theweather to walk to the rectory, where they were all in the habit of makinginformal and friendly visits. They had just got out of the little villageof B----, which lay in their route, when a rather handsome travellingcarriage and four passed them, and took the road which led to the Deanery. 

"As I live, " cried John, "there go our new neighbors the Jarvis's; yes, yes, that must be the old merchant muffled up in the corner; I mistook himat first for a pile of bandboxes; then the rosy-cheeked lady, with so manyfeathers, must be the old lady--heaven forgive me, Mrs. Jarvis Imean--aye, and the two others the belles. "

"You are in a hurry to pronounce them belles, John, " said Jane, pettishly;"it would be well to see more of them before you speak so decidedly. "

"Oh!" replied John, "I have seen _enough_ of them, and"--he wasinterrupted by the whirling of a tilbury and tandem followed by a coupleof servants on horseback. All about this vehicle and its masters bore thestamp of decided fashion; and our party had followed it with their eyesfor a short distance, when, having reached a fork in the roads, itstopped, and evidently waited the coming up of the pedestrians, as if tomake an inquiry. A single glance of the eye was sufficient to apprise thegentleman on the cushion (who held the reins) of the kind of people he hadto deal with, and stepping from his carriage, he met them with a gracefulbow, and after handsomely apologizing for the trouble he was giving, hedesired to know which road led to the Deanery. "The right, " replied John, returning his salutation. 

"Ask them, Colonel, " cried the charioteer, "whether the old gentleman wentright or not. "

The Colonel, in the manner of a perfect gentleman, but with a look ofcompassion for his companion's want of tact, made the desired inquiry;which being satisfactorily answered, he again bowed and was retiring, asone of several pointers who followed the cavalcade sprang upon Jane, andsoiled her walking dress with his dirty feet. 

"Come hither, Dido, " cried the Colonel, hastening to beat the dog backfrom the young lady; and again he apologized in the same collected andhandsome manner, then turning to one of the servants, he said, "call inthe dog, sir, " and rejoined his companion. The air of this gentleman waspeculiarly pleasant; it would not have been difficult to pronounce him asoldier had he not been addressed as such by his younger and certainlyless polished companion. The Colonel was apparently about thirty, and ofextremely handsome face and figure, while his driving friend appearedseveral years younger, and of altogether different materials. 

"I wonder, " said Jane, as they turned a corner which hid them from view, "who they are?"

"Who they are?" cried the brother, "why the Jarvis's to be sure; didn'tyou hear them ask the road to the Deanery?

"Oh! the one that drove, _he_ may be a Jarvis, but not the gentleman whospoke to us--surely not, John; besides, he was called Colonel, you know. "

"Yes, yes, " said John, with one of his quizzing expressions, "ColonelJarvis, that must be the alderman; they are commonly colonels of cityvolunteers: yes, that must have been the old gem'mun who spoke to us, andI was right after all about the bandboxes. "

"You forget, " said Clara, smiling, "the polite inquiry concerning the oldgem'mun. "

"Ah! true; who the deuce can this Colonel be then, for young Jarvis isonly a captain, I know; who do you think he is, Jane?"

"How do you think I can tell you, John? But whoever he is, he owns thetilbury, although he did not drive it; and he is a gentleman both by birthand manners. "

"Why, Jane, if you know so much of him, you should know more; but it isall guess with you. "

"No; it is not guess--I am certain of what I say. "

The aunt and sisters, who had taken little interest in the dialogue, looked at her with some surprise, which John observing, he exclaimed, "Poh: she knows no more than we all know. "

"Indeed I do. "

"Poh, poh, if you know, tell. "

"Why, the arms were different. "

John laughed as he said, "That _is_ a good reason, sure enough, for thetilbury's being the colonel's property; but now for his blood; how did youdiscover that, sis--by his gait and actions, as we say of horses?"

Jane colored a little, and laughed faintly. "The arms on the tilbury hadsix quarterings. "

Emily now laughed, and Mrs. Wilson and Clara smiled while John continuedhis teazing until they reached the rectory. 

While chatting with the doctor and his wife, Francis returned from hismorning ride, and told them the Jarvis family had arrived; he hadwitnessed an unpleasant accident to a gig, in which were Captain Jarvis, and a friend, a Colonel Egerton; it had been awkwardly driven in turninginto the Deanery gate, and upset: the colonel received some injury to hisankle, nothing, however, serious he hoped, but such as to put him underthe care of the young ladies, probably, for a few days. After theexclamations which usually follow such details, Jane ventured to inquirewho Colonel Egerton was. 

"I understood at the time, from one of the servants, that he is a nephewof Sir Edgar Egerton, and a lieutenant-colonel on half-pay, or furlough, or some such thing. "

"How did he bear his misfortune, Mr. Francis?" inquired Mrs. Wilson. 

"Certainly as a gentleman, madam, if not as a Christian, " replied theyoung clergyman, slily smiling; "indeed, most men of gallantry would, Ibelieve, rejoice in an accident which drew forth so much sympathy as boththe Miss Jarvis's manifested. "

"How fortunate you should all happen to be near!" said the tender-heartedClara. 

"Are the young ladies pretty?" asked Jane, with something of hesitation inher manner. 

"Why, I rather think they are; but I took very little notice of theirappearance, as the colonel was really in evident pain. "

"This, then, " cried the doctor, "affords me an additional excuse forcalling on them at an early day, so I'll e'en go to-morrow. "

"I trust Doctor Ives wants no apologies for performing his duty, " saidMrs. Wilson. 

"He is fond of making them, though, " said Mrs. Ives, peaking with abenevolent smile, and for the first time in the little conversation. 

It was then arranged that the rector should make his official visit, asintended by himself; and on his report, the ladies would act. Afterremaining at the rectory an hour, they returned to the hall, attended byFrancis. 

The next day the doctor drove in, and informed them the Jarvis family werehappily settled, and the colonel in no danger, excepting from thefascinations of the two young ladies, who took such palpable care of himthat he wanted for nothing, and they might drive over whenever theypleased, without fear of intruding unseasonably. 

Mr. Jarvis received his guests with the frankness of good feelings, if notwith the polish of high life; while his wife, who seldom thought of theformer, would have been mortally offended with the person who could havesuggested that she omitted any of the elegancies of the latter. Herdaughters were rather pretty, but wanted, both in appearance and manner, the inexpressible air of _haut ton_ which so eminently distinguished theeasy but polished deportment of Colonel Egerton, whom they found recliningon a sofa with his leg on a chair, amply secured in numerous bandages, butunable to rise. Notwithstanding the awkwardness of his situation, he wasby far the least discomposed person of the party, and having pleasantlyexcused himself, he appeared to think no more of the matter. 

The captain, Mrs. Jarvis remarked, had gone out with his dogs to try thegrounds around them, "for he seems to live only with his horses and hisgun: young men, my lady, nowadays, appear to forget that there are anythings in the world but themselves; now I told Harry that your ladyshipand daughters would favor us with a call this morning--but no: there hewent, as if Mr. Jarvis was unable to buy us a dinner, and we should allstarve but for his quails and pheasants. "

"Quails and pheasants, " cried John, in consternation, "does CaptainJarvis shoot quails and pheasants at this time of the year?"

"Mrs. Jarvis, sir, " said Colonel Egerton, with a correcting smile, "understands the allegiance due from us gentlemen to the ladies, betterthan the rules of sporting; my friend, the captain, has taken his fishingrod, I believe. "

"It is all one, fish or birds, " continued Mrs. Jarvis, "he is Out of theway when he is wanted, and I believe we can buy fish as easily as birds; Iwish he would take pattern after yourself, colonel, in these matters. "

Colonel Egerton laughed pleasantly, but he did not blush; and Miss Jarvisobserved, with a look, of something like admiration thrown on hisreclining figure, "that when Harry had been in the army as long as hisfriend, he would know the usages of good society, she hoped, as well. "

"Yes, " said her mother, "the army is certainly the place to polish a youngman;" and turning to Mrs. Wilson, she abruptly added, "Your husband, Ibelieve, was in the army, ma'am?"

"I hope, " said Emily hastily, "that we shall have the pleasure of seeingyou soon, Miss Jarvis, at the Hall, " preventing by her promptitude thenecessity of a reply from her aunt. The young lady promised to make anearly visit, and the subject changed to a general and uninterestingdiscourse on the neighborhood, the country, the weather, and otherordinary topics. 

"Now, John, " cried Jane in triumph, as they drove from the door, "you mustacknowledge my heraldic witchcraft, as you are pleased to call it, isright for once at least. "

"Oh! no doubt, Jenny, " said John, who was accustomed to use thatappellation to her as a provocation, when he wished what he called anenlivening scene; but Mrs. Wilson put a damper on his hopes by a remark tohis mother, and the habitual respect of both the combatants kept themsilent. 

Jane Moseley was endowed by nature with an excellent understanding, one atleast equal to that of her brother, but the wanted the more essentialrequisites of a well governed mind. Masters had been provided by SirEdward for all his daughters, and if they were not acquainted with theusual acquirements of young women in their rank of life, it was not hisfault: his system of economy had not embraced a denial of opportunity toany of his children, and the baronet was apt to think all _was_ done, whenthey were put where all _might_ be done. Feeling herself and parentsentitled to enter into all the gaieties and splendors of some of thericher families in their vicinity, Jane, who had grown up during thetemporary eclipse of Sir Edward's fortunes, had sought thatself-consolation so common to people in her situation, which was to befound in reviewing the former grandeur of her house, and she had thuscontracted a degree of family pride. If Clara's weaknesses were lessstriking than those of Jane, it was because she had less imagination, andbecause that in loving Francis Ives she had so long admired a character, where so little was to be found that could be censured, that she might besaid to have contracted a habit of judging correctly, without being ableat all times to give a reason for her conduct or her opinions. 

Chapter III. 

The day fixed for one of the stated visits of Mr. Benfield had nowarrived, and John, with Emily, who was the old bachelor's favorite niece, went in the baronet's post-chaise to the town of F----, a distance oftwenty miles, to meet him, in order to accompany him in the remainder ofhis journey to the Hall, it being a settled rule with the old man, thathis carriage horses should return to their own stables every night, wherehe imagined they could alone find that comfort and care to which their ageand services gave them a claim. The day was uncommonly pleasant, and theyoung people were in high spirits with the expectation of meeting theirrespected relative, whose absence had been prolonged a few days by asevere fit of the gout. 

"Now, Emily, " cried John, as he settled himself comfortably by the side ofhis sister in the chaise, "let me know honestly how you like the Jarvis's, and particularly how you like the handsome colonel. "

"Then, John, honestly, I neither like nor dislike the Jarvis's or thehandsome colonel. "

"Well, then, there is no great diversity in our sentiments, as Jane wouldsay. "

"John!"

"Emily!"

"I do not like to hear you speak so disrespectfully of out sister, whom Iam sure you love as tenderly as I do myself. "

"I acknowledge my error, " said the brother, taking her hand andaffectionately kissing it, "and will endeavor to offend no more; but thisColonel Egerton, sister, is certainly a gentleman, both by blood and inmanners, as Jane"--Emily interrupted him with a laugh, which John tookvery good-naturedly, repeating his remark without alluding to theirsister. 

"Yes, " said Emily, "he is genteel in his deportment, if that be what youmean; I know nothing of his family. "

"Oh, I have taken a peep into Jane's Baronetage, where find him set downas Sir Edgar's heir. "

"There is something about him, " said Emily, musing, "that I do not muchadmire; he is too easy--there is no nature; I always feel afraid suchpeople will laugh at me as soon as my back is turned, and for those verythings they seem most to admire to my face. If I might be allowed tojudge, I should say his manner wants one thing, without which no one canbe truly agreeable. "

"What's that?"

"Sincerity. "

"Ah! that's my great recommendation; but I am afraid I shall have to takethe poacher up, with his quails and his pheasants, indeed. "

"You know the colonel explained that to be a mistake. "

"What they call explaining away; but unluckily I saw the gentlemanreturning with his gun on his shoulder, and followed by a brace ofpointers. "

"There's a specimen of the colonel's manners then, " said Emily, smiling;"it will do until the truth be known. "

"And Jane, when she saw him also, praised his good nature andconsideration, in what she was pleased to call relieving the awkwardnessof my remark. "

Emily finding her brother disposed to dwell on the foibles of Jane, athing he was rather addicted to at times, was silent. They rode somedistance before John, who was ever as ready to atone as he was to offend, again apologized, again promised reformation, and during the remainder ofthe ride only forgot himself twice more in the same way. 

They reached F---- two hours before the lumbering coach of their uncledrove into the yard of the inn, and had sufficient time to refresh theirown horses for the journey homewards. 

Mr. Benfield was a bachelor of eighty, but retained the personal activityof a man of sixty. He was strongly attached to all the fashions andopinions of his youth, during which he had sat one term in parliament, having been a great beau and courtier in the commencement of the reign. Adisappointment in an affair of the heart drove him into retirement; andfor the last fifty years he had dwelt exclusively at a seat he ownedwithin forty miles of Moseley Hall, the mistress of which was the onlychild of his only brother. In figure, he was tall and spare, very erectfor his years, and he faithfully preserved in his attire, servants, carriages, and indeed everything around him, as much of the fashions ofhis youth as circumstances would allow: such then was a faint outline ofthe character and appearance of the old man, who, dressed in a cocked hat, bag wig, and sword, took the offered arm of John Moseley to alight fromhis coach. 

"So, " cried the old gentleman, having made good his footing on the ground, as he stopped short and stared John in the face, "you have made out tocome twenty miles to meet an old cynic, have you, sir? but I thought I bidthee bring Emmy with thee. "

John pointed to the window, where his sister stood anxiously watching heruncle's movements. On catching her eye, he smiled kindly, and pursued hisway into the house, talking to himself. 

"Aye, there she is indeed; I remember now, when I was a youngster, ofgoing with my kinsman, old Lord Gosford, to meet his sister, the LadyJuliana, when she first came from school (this was the lady whoseinfidelity had driven him from the world); and a beauty she was indeed, something like Emmy there; only she was taller, and her eyes were black, and her hair too, that was black; and she was not so fair as Emmy, and shewas fatter, and she stooped a little--very little; oh! they arewonderfully alike though; don't you think they were, nephew?" he stoppedat the door of the room; while John, who in this description could not seea resemblance, which existed nowhere but in the old man's affections, wasfain to say, "yes; but they were related, you know, uncle, and thatexplains the likeness. "

"True, boy, true, " said his uncle, pleased at a reason for a thing hewished, and which flattered his propensities. He had once before toldEmily she put him in mind of his housekeeper, a woman as old as himself, and without a tooth in her head. 

On meeting his niece, Mr. Benfield (who, like many others that feelstrongly, wore in common the affectation of indifference and displeasure)yielded to his fondness, and folding her in his arms, kissed heraffectionately, while a tear glistened in his eye; and then pushing hergently from him, he exclaimed, "Come, come, Emmy, don't strangle me, don'tstrangle me, girl; let me live in peace the little while I have to remainhere--so, " seating himself composedly in an arm chair his niece had placedfor him with a cushion, "so Anne writes me, Sir William Harris has let thedeanery. "

"Oh, yes, uncle, " cried John. 

"I'll thank you, young gentleman, " said Mr. Benfield, sternly, "not tointerrupt me when I am speaking to a lady that is, if you please, sir. Then Sir William has let the deanery to a London merchant, a Mr. Jarvis. Now I knew three people of that name; one was a hackney coachman, when Iwas a member of the parliament of this realm, and drove me often to thehouse; the other was _valet-de-chambre_ to my Lord Gosford; and the third, I take it, is the very man who has become your neighbor. If it be theperson I mean, Emmy dear, he is like--like--aye, very like old Peter, mysteward. "

John, unable to contain his mirth at this discovery of a likeness betweenthe prototype of Mr. Benfield himself in leanness of figure, and the jollyrotundity of the merchant, was obliged to leave the room; Emily, thoughshe could not forbear smiling at the comparison, quietly said, "You willmeet him to-morrow, dear uncle, and then you will be able to judge foryourself. "

"Yes, yes, " muttered the old man, "very like old Peter, my steward; aslike as two peas. " The parallel was by no means as ridiculous as might besupposed; its history being as follows:

Mr. Benfield had placed twenty thousand pounds in the hands of a broker, with positive orders for him to pay it away immediately for governmentstock, bought by the former on his account; but disregarding thisinjunction, the broker had managed the transaction in such a way as topostpone the payment, until, on his failure, he had given up that and amuch larger sum to Mr. Jarvis, to satisfy what he called an honorary debt. In elucidating the transaction Mr. Jarvis paid Benfield Lodge a visit, andhonestly restored the bachelor his property. This act, and the highopinion he entertained of Mrs. Wilson, with his unbounded love for Emily, were the few things which prevented his believing some dreadful judgmentwas about to visit this world, for its increasing wickedness and follies. As his own steward was one of the honestest fellows living, he had everafter fancied that there was a personal resemblance between him and theconscientious merchant. 

The horses being ready, the old bachelor was placed carefully between hisnephew and niece, and in that manner they rode on quietly to the Hall, thedread of accident keeping Mr. Benfield silent most of the way. On passing, however a stately castle, about ten miles from the termination of theirride, he began one of his speeches with, "Emmy, dear, does Lord Bolton come often to see you?"

"Very seldom, sir; his employment keeps him much of his time at St. James's, and then he has an estate in Ireland. "

"I knew his father well--he was distantly connected by marriage with myfriend Lord Gosford; you could not remember him, I suspect" (John rolledhis eyes at this suggestion of his sister's recollection of a man who hadbeen forty years dead); "he always voted with me in the parliament of thisrealm; he was a thoroughly honest man; very much such a man to look at asPeter Johnson, my steward: but I am told his son likes the good things ofthe ministry; well, well, William Pitt was the only minister to my mind. There was the Scotchman of whom they made a Marquis; I never could endurehim--always voted against him. "

"Right or wrong, uncle, " cried John, who loved a little mischief in hisheart. 

"No, sir--right, but never wrong. Lord Gosford always voted against himtoo; and do you think, jackanapes, that my friend the Earl of Gosfordand--and--myself were ever wrong? No, sir, men in my day were differentcreatures from what they are now: we were never wrong, sir; we loved ourcountry, and had no motive for being in the wrong. "

"How was it with Lord Bute, uncle?"

"Lord Bute, sir, " cried the old man with great warmth, "was the minister, sir--he was the minister; aye, he was the minister, sir, and was paid forwhat he did. "

"But Lord Chatham, was he not the minister too?"

Now, nothing vexed the old gentleman more than to hear William Pittcalled by his tardy honors; and yet, unwilling to give up what he thoughthis political opinions, he exclaimed, with an unanswerable positiveness ofargument, "Billy Pitt, sir, was the minister, sir; but--but--but--he was _our_minister, sir. "

Emily, unable to see her uncle agitated by such useless disputes, threw areproachful glance on her brother, as she observed timidly, "That was a glorious administration, sir, I believe. "

"Glorious indeed! Emmy dear, " said the bachelor, softening with the soundof her voice, and the recollections of his younger days, "we beat theFrench everywhere--in America--in Germany;--we took--(counting on hisfingers)--we took Quebec--yes, Lord Gosford lost a cousin there; and wetook all the Canadas; and we took their fleets: there was a young mankilled in the battle between Hawke and Conflans, who was much attached toLady Juliana--poor soul! how much she regretted him when dead, though shenever could abide him when living--ah! she was a tender-hearted creature!"

Mr. Benfield, like many others, continued to love imaginary qualities inhis mistress, long after her heartless coquetry had disgusted him with herperson: a kind of feeling which springs from self-love, which finds itnecessary to seek consolation in creating beauties, that may justify ourfollies to ourselves; and which often keeps alive the semblance of thepassion, when even hope, or real admiration, is extinct. 

On reaching the Hall, every one was rejoiced to see their reallyaffectionate and worthy relative, and the evening passed in the tranquilenjoyment of the blessings which Providence had profusely scatteredaround the family of the baronet, but which are too often hazarded by aneglect of duty that springs from too great security, or an indolencewhich renders us averse to the precaution necessary to insure theircontinuance. 

Chapter IV. 

"You are welcome, Sir Edward, " said the venerable rector, as he took thebaronet by the hand; "I was fearful a return of your rheumatism woulddeprive us of this pleasure, and prevent my making you acquainted with thenew occupants of the deanery, who have consented to dine with us to-day, and to whom I have promised, in particular, an introduction to Sir EdwardMoseley. "

"I thank you, my dear doctor, " rejoined the baronet; "I have not only comemyself, but have persuaded Mr. Benfield to make one of the party; there hecomes, leaning on Emily's arm, and finding fault with Mrs. Wilson'snew-fashioned barouche, which he says has given him cold. "

The rector received the unexpected guest with the kindness of his nature, and an inward smile at the incongruous assemblage he was likely to havearound him by the arrival of the Jarvis's, who, at that moment, drove tohis door. The introductions between the baronet and the new comers hadpassed, and Miss Jarvis had made a prettily worded apology on behalf ofthe colonel, who was not yet well enough to come out, but whose politenesshad insisted on their not remaining a home on his account, as Mr. Benfield, having composedly put on his spectacles, walked deliberately upto the place where the merchant had seated himself, and having examinedhim through his glasses to his satisfaction, took them off, and carefullywiping them, he began to talk to himself as he put them into hispocket--"No, no; it's not Jack, the hackney coachman, nor my LordGosford's gentleman, but"--cordially holding out both hands, "it's theman who saved my twenty thousand pounds. "

Mr. Jarvis, whom shame and embarrassment had kept silent during thisexamination, exchanged greetings sincerely with his old acquaintance, whonow took a seat in silence by his side; while his wife, whose face hadbegun to kindle with indignation at the commencement of the oldgentleman's soliloquy, observing that somehow or other it had not onlyterminated without degradation to her spouse, but with something likecredit, turned complacently to Mrs. Ives, with an apology for the absenceof her son. 

"I cannot divine, ma'am, where he has got to; he is ever keeping uswaiting for him;" and, addressing Jane, "these military men become sounsettled in their habits, that I often tell Harry he should never quitthe camp. "

"In Hyde Park, you should add, my dear, for he has never been in anyother, " bluntly observed her husband. 

To this speech no reply was made, but it was evidently little relished bythe ladies of the family, who were a good deal jealous of the laurels ofthe only hero their race had ever produced. The arrival and introductionof the captain himself changed the discourse, which turned on the comfortsof their present residence. 

"Pray, my lady, " cried the captain, who had taken a chair familiarly bythe side of the baronet's wife, "why is the house called the deanery? I amafraid I shall be taken for a son of the church, when I invite my friendsto visit my father at the deanery. "

"But you may add, at the same time, sir, if you please, " dryly remarkedMr. Jarvis, "that it is occupied by an old man, who has been preaching andlecturing all his life; and, like others of the trade, I believe, invain. "

"You must except our good friend, the doctor here, at least, sir, " saidMrs. Wilson; who, observing that her sister shrank from a familiarity shewas unused to, took upon herself the office of replying to the captain'squestion: "The father of the present Sir William Harris held that stationin the church, and although the house was his private property it took itsname from the circumstance, which has been continued ever since. "

"Is it not a droll life Sir William leads, " cried Miss Jarvis, looking atJohn Moseley, "riding about all summer from one watering-place to another, and letting his house year after year in the manner he does?"

"Sir William, " said Dr. Ives, gravely, "is devoted to his laughter'swishes; and since his accession to his title, has come into possession ofanother residence in an adjoining county, which, I believe, he retains inhis own hands. "

"Are you acquainted with Miss Harris?" continued the lady, addressingherself to Clara; though, without waiting for an answer, she added, "Sheis a great belle--all the gentlemen are dying for her. "

"Or her fortune, " said her sister, with a pretty toss of the head; "for mypart, I never could see anything so captivating in her, although so muchis said about her at Bath and Brighton. "

"You know her then, " mildly observed Clara. 

"Why, I cannot say--we are exactly acquainted, " the young ladyhesitatingly answered, coloring violently. 

"What do you mean by exactly acquainted, Sally?" put in the father with alaugh; "did you ever speak to or were you ever in a room with her, in yourlife, unless it might be at a concert or a ball?"

The mortification of Miss Sarah was too evident for concealment, and ithappily was relieved by a summons to dinner. 

"Never, my dear child, " said Mrs. Wilson to Emily, the aunt being fond ofintroducing a moral from the occasional incidents of every-day life, "never subject yourself to a similar mortification, by commenting on thecharacters of those you don't know: ignorance makes you liable to greaterrors; and if they should happen to be above you in life, it will onlyexcite their contempt, should it reach their ears, while those to whomyour remarks are made will think it envy. "

"Truth is sometimes blundered on, " whispered John, who held his sister'sarm, waiting for his aunt to precede them to the dining-room. 

The merchant paid too great a compliment to the rector's dinner to thinkof renewing the disagreeable conversation, and as John Moseley and theyoung clergyman were seated next the two ladies, they soon forgot what, among themselves, they would call their father's rudeness, in receivingthe attentions of a couple of remarkably agreeable young men. 

"Pray, Mr. Francis, when do you preach for us?" asked Mr. Haughton; "I'mvery anxious to hear you hold forth from the pulpit, where I have so oftenheard your father with pleasure: I doubt not you will prove orthodox, oryou will be the only man, I believe, in the congregation, the rector hasleft in ignorance of the theory of our religion, at least. "

The doctor bowed to the compliment, as he replied to the question for hisson, that on the next Sunday they were to have the pleasure of hearingFrank, who had promised to assist him on that day. 

"Any prospects of a living soon?" continued Mr. Haughton, helping himselfbountifully to a piece of plum pudding as he spoke. John Moseley laughedaloud, and Clara blushed to the eyes, while the doctor, turning to SirEdward, observed with an air of interest, "Sir Edward, the living ofBolton is vacant, and I should like exceedingly to obtain it for my son. The advowson belongs to the Earl, who will dispose of it only to greatinterest, I am afraid. "

Clara was certainly, too busily occupied in picking raisins from herpudding to hear this remark, but accidentally stole, from under her longeyelashes, a timid glance at her father as he replied:

"I am sorry, my friend, I have not sufficient interest with his lordshipto apply on my own account; but he is so seldom here, we are barelyacquainted;" and the good baronet looked really concerned. 

"Clara, " said Francis Ives in a low and affectionate tone, "have you readthe books I sent you?"

Clara answered him with a smile in the negative, but promised amendment assoon as she had leisure. 

"Do you ride much, on horseback, Mr. Moseley?" abruptly asked Miss Sarah, turning her back on the young divine, and facing the gentleman sheaddressed. John, who was now hemmed in between the sisters, replied with arueful expression that brought a smile into the face of Emily, who wasplaced opposite to him--

"Yes, ma'am, and sometimes I am ridden. "

"Ridden, sir, what do you mean by that?"

"Oh! only my aunt there occasionally gives me a lecture. "

"I understand, " said the lady, pointing slily with her finger at her ownfather. 

"Does it feel good?" John inquired, with a look of, great sympathy. Butthe lady, who now felt awkwardly, without knowing exactly why, shook herhead in silence, and forced a faint laugh. 

"Whom have we here?" cried Captain Jarvis, who was looking out at a windowwhich commanded a view of the approach to the house--"the apothecary andhis attendant judging from the equipage. "

The rector threw an inquiring look on a servant, who told his master theywere strangers to him. 

"Have them shown up, doctor, " cried the benevolent baronet, who loved tosee every one as happy as himself, "and give them some of your excellentpasty, for the sake of hospitality and the credit of your cook, I beg ofyou. "

As this request was politely seconded by others of the party, the rectorordered his servants to show in the strangers. 

On opening the parlor door, a gentleman, apparently sixty years of age, appeared, leaning on the arm of a youth of five-and-twenty. There wassufficient resemblance between the two for the most indifferent observerto pronounce them father and son; but the helpless debility and emaciatedfigure of the former, were finely contrasted by the vigorous health andmanly beauty of the latter, who supported his venerable parent into theroom with a grace and tenderness that struck most of the beholders with asensation of pleasure. The doctor and Mrs. Ives rose from their seatsinvoluntarily, and each stood for a moment, lost in an astonishment thatwas mingled with grief. Recollecting himself, the rector grasped theextended hand of the senior in both his own, and endeavored to uttersomething, but in vain. The tears followed each other down his cheeks, ashe looked on the faded and careworn figure which stood before him; whilehis wife, unable to control her feelings, sank back into a chair and weptaloud. 

Throwing open the door of an adjoining room, and retaining the hand of theinvalid, the doctor gently led the way, followed by his wife and son. Theformer, having recovered from the first burst of her sorrow, andregardless of everything else, now anxiously watched the enfeebled step ofthe stranger. On reaching the door, they both turned and bowed to thecompany in a manner of so much dignity, mingled with sweetness, that all, not excepting Mr. Benfield, rose from their seats to return thesalutation. On passing from the dining parlor, the door was closed, leaving the company standing round the table in mute astonishment andcommiseration. Not a word had been spoken, and the rector's family hadleft them without apology or explanation. Francis, however soon returned, and was followed in a few minutes by his mother, who, slightly apologizingfor her absence, turned the discourse on the approaching Sunday, and theintention of Francis to preach on that day. The Moseleys were too wellbred to make any inquiries, and the deanery family was afraid. Sir Edwardretired at a very early hour, and was followed by the remainder of theparty. 

"Well, " cried Mrs. Jarvis, as they drove from the door, "this may be goodbreeding, but, for my part, I think both the doctor and Mrs. Ives behavedvery rudely, with the crying and sobbing. "

"They are nobody of much consequence, " cried her eldest daughter, castinga contemptuous glance on a plain travelling chaise which stood before therector's stables. 

"'Twas sickening, " said Miss Sarah, with a shrug; while her father, turning his eyes on each speaker in succession, very deliberately helpedhimself to a pinch of snuff, his ordinary recourse against a familyquarrel. The curiosity of the ladies was, however, more lively than theychose to avow and Mrs. Jarvis bade her maid go over to the rectory thatevening, with her compliments to Mrs. Ives; she had lost a lace veil, which her maid knew, and she thought it might have been left at therectory. 

"And, Jones, when you are there, you can inquire of the servants; mind, ofthe servants--I would not distress Mrs. Ives for the world; howMr. --Mr. --what's his name--Oh!--I have forgotten his name; just bring mehis name too. Jones; and, as it may make some difference in our party, just find out how long they stay; and--and--- any other little thing, Jones, which can be of use, you know. "

Off went Jones, and within an hour she had returned. With an importantlook, she commenced her narrative, the daughters being accidentallypresent, and it might be on purpose. 

"Why, ma'am, I went across the fields, and William was good enough to gowith me; so when we got there, I rang, and they showed us into theservants' room, and I gave my message, and the veil was not there. Why, ma'am, there's the veil now, on the back o' that chair. "

"Very well, very well, Jones, never mind the veil, " cried the impatientmistress. 

"So, ma'am, while they were looking for the veil, I just asked one of themaids, what company had arrived, but"--(here Jones looked very suspicious, and shook her head ominously:) "would you think it, ma'am, not a soul ofthem knew! But, ma'am, there was the doctor and his son, praying andreading with the old gentleman the whole time--and"--

"And what, Jones?"

"Why, ma'am, I expect he has been a great sinner, or he wouldn't want somuch praying just as he is about to die. "

"Die!" cried all three at once: "will he die?"

"O yes, " continued Jones, "they all agree he must die; but this praying somuch, is just like the criminals. I'm sure no honest person needs so muchpraying, ma'am. "

"No, indeed, " said the mother. "No, indeed, " responded the daughters, asthey retired to their several rooms for the night. 

Chapter V. 

There is something in the season of Spring which peculiarly excites thefeelings of devotion. The dreariness of winter has passed, and with it, the deadened affections of our nature. New life, new vigor, arises withinus, as we walk abroad and feel the genial gales of April breathe upon us;and our hopes, our wishes, awaken with the revival of the vegetable world. It is then that the heart, which has been impressed with the goodness ofthe Creator, feels that goodness brought, as it were, into very contactwith the senses. The eye loves to wander over the bountiful provisionsnature is throwing forth in every direction for our comfort, and fixes itsgaze on the clouds, which, having lost the chilling thinness of winter, roll in rich volumes, amidst the clear and softened fields of azure sopeculiar to the season, leading the mind insensibly, to dwell on thethings of another and a better world. It was on such a day, that theinhabitants of B---- thronged toward the village church, for the doublepurpose of pouring out their thanksgivings, and of hearing the firstefforts of their rector's son in the duties of his sacred calling. 

Amongst the crowd whom curiosity or a better feeling had drawn forth, wereto be seen the flaring equipage of the Jarvises, and the handsomecarriages of Sir Edward Moseley and his sister. All the members of thelatter family felt a lively anxiety for the success of the young divine. But knowing, as they well did, the strength of his native talents, theexcellence of his education, and the fervor of his piety, it was ananxiety that partook more of hope than of fear. There was one heart, however, amongst them, that palpitated with an emotion that hardlyadmitted of control, as they approached the sacred edifice, for it hadidentified itself completely with the welfare of the rector's son. Therenever was a softer, truer heart, than that which now almost audibly beatwithin the bosom of Clara Moseley; and she had given it to the youngdivine with all its purity and truth. 

The entrance of a congregation into the sanctuary will at all timesfurnish, to an attentive observer, food for much useful speculation, if itbe chastened with a proper charity for the weaknesses of others; and mostpeople are ignorant of the insight they are giving into their charactersand dispositions, by such an apparently trivial circumstance as theirweekly approach to the tabernacles of the Lord. Christianity, while itchastens and amends the heart, leaves the natural powers unaltered; and itcannot be doubted that its operation is, or ought to be, proportionate tothe abilities and opportunities of the subject of its holyimpression--"Unto whomsoever much is given, much will be required. " Whilewe acknowledge, that the thoughts might be better employed in preparingfor those humiliations, of the spirit and thanksgiving of the heart whichare required of all, and are so necessary to all, we must be indulged in ahasty view of some of the personages of our history, as they entered thechurch of B----. 

On the countenance of the baronet, was the dignity and composure of a mindat peace with itself and mankind. His step was rather more deliberate thancommon; his eye rested on the pavement, and on turning into his pew, as heprepared to kneel, in the first humble petition of our beautiful service, he raised it towards the altar with an expression of benevolence andreverence, that spoke contentment, not unmixed with faith. 

In the demeanor of Lady Moseley, all was graceful and decent, whilenothing could be properly said to be studied. She followed her husbandwith a step of equal deliberation, though it was slightly varied by amanner which, while it appeared natural to herself, might have beenartificial in another: a cambric handkerchief concealed her face as shesank composedly by the side of Sir Edward, in a style which showed, thatwhile she remembered her Maker, she had not entirely forgotten herself. 

The walk of Mrs. Wilson was quicker than that of her sister. Her eye, directed before her, was fixed, as if in settled gaze, on that eternitywhich she was approaching. The lines of her contemplative face wereunaltered, unless there might be traced a deeper shade of humility thanwas ordinarily seen on her pale, but expressive countenance: her petitionwas long; and on rising from her humble posture, the person was indeed tobe seen, but the soul appeared absorbed in contemplations beyond thelimits of this sphere. 

There was a restlessness and varying of color, in the ordinarily placidClara, which prevented a display of her usual manner; while Jane walkedgracefully, and with a tincture of her mother's manner, by her side. Shestole one hastily withdrawn glance to the deanery pew ere she kneeled, andthen, on rising, handed her smelling-bottle affectionately to her eldersister. 

Emily glided behind her companions with a face beaming with a look ofinnocence and love. As she sank in the act of supplication, the rich glowof her healthful cheek lost some of its brilliancy; but, on rising, itbeamed with a renewed lustre, that plainly indicated a heart touched withthe sanctity of its situation. 

In the composed and sedate manner of Mr. Jarvis, as he steadily pursuedhis way to the pew of Sir William Harris, you might have been justifiedin expecting the entrance of another Sir Edward Moseley in substance, ifnot in externals. But the deliberate separation of the flaps of his coat, as he comfortably seated himself, when you thought him about to kneel, followed by a pinch of snuff as he threw his eye around the building, ledyou at once to conjecture, that what at first had been mistaken forreverence, was the abstraction of some earthly calculation; and that hisattendance was in compliance with custom, and not a little depended uponthe thickness of his cushions, and the room he found for the dispositionof two rather unwieldy legs. 

The ladies of the family followed, in garments carefully selected for theadvantageous display of their persons. As they sailed into their seats, where it would seem the improvidence of Sir William's steward hadneglected some important accommodation (some time being spent inpreparation to be seated), the old lady, whose size and flesh really putkneeling out of the question, bent forward for a moment at an angle ofeighty with the horizon, while her daughters prettily bowed their heads, with all proper precaution for the safety of their superb millinery. 

At length the rector, accompanied by his son, appeared from the vestry. There was a dignity and solemnity in the manner in which this pious divineentered on the duties of his profession, which disposed the heart tolisten with reverence and humility to precepts that were accompanied withso impressive an exterior. The stillness of expectation pervaded thechurch, when the pew opener led the way to the same interesting father andson whose entrance had interrupted the guests the preceding day, at therectory. Every eye was turned on the emaciated parent, bending into thegrave, and, as it were, kept from it by the supporting tenderness of hischild. Hastily throwing open the door of her own pew, Mrs. Ives buriedher face in her handkerchief; and her husband had proceeded far in themorning service before she raised it again to the view of thecongregation. In the voice of the rector, there was an unusual softnessand tremor that his people attributed to the feelings of a father about towitness the first efforts of an only child, but which in reality wereowing to another and a deeper cause. 

Prayers were ended, and the younger Ives ascended the pulpit. For a momenthe paused; when, casting an anxious glance to the pew of the baronet, hecommenced his sermon. He had chosen for his discourse the necessity ofplacing our dependence on divine grace. After having learnedly, but in themost unaffected manner, displayed the necessity of this dependence, asderived from revelation, he proceeded to paint the hope, the resignation, the felicity of a Christian's death-bed. Warmed by the subject, hisanimation soon lent a heightened interest to his language; and at a momentwhen all around him were entranced by the eloquence of the youthfuldivine, a sudden and deep-drawn sigh drew every eye to the rector's pew. The younger stranger sat motionless as a statue, holding in his arms thelifeless body of his parent, who had fallen that moment a corpse by hisside. All was now confusion: the almost insensible young man was relievedfrom his burden; and, led by the rector, they left the church. Thecongregation dispersed in silence, or assembled in little groups, toconverse on the awful event they had witnessed. None knew the deceased; hewas the rector's friend, and to his residence the body was removed. Theyoung man was evidently his child; but here all information ended. Theyhad arrived in a private chaise, but with post horses, and withoutattendants. Their arrival at the parsonage was detailed by the Jarvisladies with a few exaggerations that gave additional interest to the wholeevent, and which, by creating an impression with some whom gentlerfeelings would not have restrained, that there was something of mysteryabout them, prevented many distressing questions to the Ives's, that thebaronet's family forbore putting, on the score of delicacy. The body leftB---- at the close of the week, accompanied by Francis Ives and theunweariedly attentive and interesting son. The doctor and his wife wentinto deep mourning, and Clara received a short note from her lover, on themorning of their departure, acquainting her with his intended absence fora month, but throwing no light upon the affair. The London papers, however, contained the following obituary notice, and which, as it couldrefer to no other person, as a matter of course, was supposed to allude tothe rector's friend. 

"Died, suddenly, at B----, on the 20th instant, George Denbigh, Esq. , aged63. "

Chapter VI. 

During the week of mourning, the intercourse between Moseley Hall and therectory was confined to messages and notes of inquiry after each other'swelfare: but the visit of the Moseleys to the deanery had been returned;and the day after the appearance of the obituary paragraph, the family ofthe latter dined by invitation at the Hall. Colonel Egerton had recoveredthe use of his leg, and was included in the party. Between this gentlemanand Mr. Benfield there appeared, from the first moment of theirintroduction, a repugnance which was rather increased by time, and whichthe old gentleman manifested by a demeanor loaded with the overstrainedceremony of the day, and which, in the colonel, only showed itself byavoiding, when possible, all intercourse with the object of his aversion. Both Sir Edward and Lady Moseley, on the contrary, were not slow inmanifesting their favorable impressions in behalf of the gentleman. Thelatter, in particular, having ascertained to her satisfaction that he wasthe undoubted heir to the title, and most probably to the estates of hisuncle, Sir Edgar Egerton, felt herself strongly disposed to encourage anacquaintance she found so agreeable, and to which she could see noreasonable objection. Captain Jarvis, who was extremely offensive to her, from his vulgar familiarity, she barely tolerated, from the necessity ofbeing civil, and keeping up sociability in the neighborhood. It is true, she could not help being surprised that a gentleman, as polished, as thecolonel, could find any pleasure in an associate like his friend, or evenin the hardly more softened females of his family; then again, theflattering suggestion would present itself, that possibly he might haveseen Emily at Bath, or Jane elsewhere, and availed himself of theacquaintance of young Jarvis to get into their neighborhood. Lady Moseleyhad never been vain, or much interested about the disposal of her ownperson, previously to her attachment to her husband: but her daughterscalled forth not a little of her natural pride--we had almost said of herselfishness. 

The attentions of the colonel were of the most delicate and insinuatingkind; and Mrs. Wilson several times turned away in displeasure at herself, for listening with too much satisfaction to nothings, uttered in anagreeable manner, or, what was worse, false sentiments supported with thegloss of language and a fascinating deportment. The anxiety of this ladyon behalf of Emily kept her ever on the alert, when chance, or any chainof circumstances, threw her in the way of forming new connexions of anykind; and of late, as her charge approached the period of life her sexwere apt to make that choice from which there is no retreat, hersolicitude to examine the characters of the men who approached her wasreally painful. As to Lady Moseley, her wishes disposed her to be easilysatisfied, and her mind naturally shrank from an investigation to whichshe felt herself unequal; while Mrs. Wilson was governed by theconvictions of a sound discretion, matured by long and deep reasoning, allacting on a temper at all times ardent, and a watchfulness calculated toendure to the end. 

"Pray, my lady, " said Mrs. Jarvis, with a look of something likeimportance, "have you made any discovery about this Mr. Denbigh, who diedin the church lately?"

"I did not know, ma'am, " replied Lady Moseley, "there was any discovery tobe made. "

"You know, Lady Moseley, " said Colonel Egerton, "that in town, all thelittle accompaniments of such a melancholy death would have found theirway into the prints; and I suppose this is what Mrs. Jarvis alludes to. "

"Oh yes, " cried Mrs. Jarvis, "the colonel is right. " But the colonel wasalways right with that lady. 

Lady Moseley bowed her head with dignity, and the colonel had too muchtact to pursue the conversation; but the captain, whom nothing had everyet abashed, exclaimed, "These Denbighs could not be people of much importance--I have never heardthe name before. "

"It is the family name of the Duke of Derwent, I believe, " dryly remarkedSir Edward. 

"Oh, I am sure neither the old man nor his son looked much like a duke, orso much as an officer either, " exclaimed Mrs. Jarvis, who thought thelatter rank the dignity in degree next below nobility. 

"There sat, in the parliament of this realm, when I was a member, aGeneral Denbigh, " said Mr. Benfield, with his usual deliberation; "he wasalways on the same side with Lord Gosford and myself. He and his friend, Sir Peter Howell, who was the admiral that took the French squadron, inthe glorious administration of Billy Pitt, and afterwards took an islandwith this same General Denbigh: aye, the old admiral was a hearty blade; agood deal such a looking man as my Hector would make. "

Hector was Mr. Benfield's bull dog. 

"Mercy, " whispered John to Clara, "that's your grandfather that is to beuncle Benfield is speaking of. "

Clara smiled, as she ventured to say, "Sir Peter was Mrs. Ives's father, sir. "

"Indeed!" said the old gentleman, with a look of surprise, "I never knewthat before; I cannot say they resemble each other much. "

"Pray, uncle, does Frank look much like the family?" asked John, with anair of unconquerable gravity. 

"But, sir, " interrupted Emily, "were General Denbigh and Admiral Ho wellrelated?"

"Not that I ever knew, Emmy dear. Sir Frederick Denbigh did not look muchlike the admiral; he rather resembled (gathering himself up into an air offormality, and bowing stiffly to Colonel Egerton) this gentleman, here. "

"I have not the honor of the connexion, " observed the colonel, withdrawingbehind the chair of Jane. 

Mrs. Wilson changed the conversation to one more general; but the littlethat had fallen from Mr. Benfield gave reason for believing a connexion, in some way of which they were ignorant, existed between the descendantsof the two veterans, and which explained the interest they felt in eachother. 

During dinner, Colonel Egerton placed himself next to Emily, and MissJarvis took, the chair on the other side. He spoke of the gay world, ofwatering-places, novels, plays, and still finding his companion reserved, and either unwilling or unable to talk freely, he tried his favoritesentiment. He had read poetry, and a remark of his lighted up a spark ofintelligence in the beautiful face of his companion that for a momentdeceived him; but as he went on to point out his favorite beauties, itgave place to a settled composure, which at last led him to imagine thecasket contained no gem equal to the promise of its brilliant exterior. After resting from one of his most labored displays of feeling andimagery, he accidentally caught the eyes of Jane fastened on him with anexpression of no dubious import, and the soldier changed his battery. InJane he found a more willing auditor; poetry was the food she lived on, and in works of the imagination she found her greatest delight. Ananimated discussion of the merits of their favorite authors now tookplace; to renew which, the colonel early left the dining-room for thesociety of the ladies; John, who disliked drinking excessively, beinghappy of an excuse to attend him. 

The younger ladies had clustered together round a window and even Emily inher heart rejoiced that the gentlemen had come to relieve herself andsisters from the arduous task of entertaining women who appeared not topossess a single taste or opinion in common with themselves. 

"You were saying, Miss Moseley, " observed the colonel in his mostagreeable manner, as he approached them, "you thought Campbell the mostmusical poet we have; I hope you will unite with me in excepting Moore. "

Jane colored, as with some awkwardness she replied, "Moore was certainlyvery poetical. "

"Has Moore written much?" innocently asked Emily. 

"Not half as much as he ought, " cried Miss Jarvis. "Oh! I could live onhis beautiful lines. "

Jane turned away in disgust; and that evening, while alone with Clara, shetook a volume of Moore's songs, and very coolly consigned them to theflames. Her sister naturally asked an explanation of so extraordinary aprocedure. 

"Oh!" cried Jane, "I can't abide the book, since that vulgar Miss Jarvisspeaks of it with so much interest. I really believe aunt Wilson is rightin not suffering Emily to read such things. " And Jane, who had oftendevoured the treacherous lines with ardor, shrank with fastidious delicacyfrom the indulgence of a perverted taste, when it became exposed, coupledwith the vulgarity of unblushing audacity. 

Colonel Egerton immediately changed the subject to one less objectionable, and spoke of a campaign he had made in Spain. He possessed the happyfaculty of giving an interest to all he advanced, whether true or not; andas he never contradicted, or even opposed unless to yield gracefully, whena lady was his opponent, his conversation insensibly attracted, byputting the sex in good humor with themselves. Such a man, aided by thepowerful assistants of person and manners, and no inconsiderablecolloquial talents, Mrs. Wilson knew to be extremely dangerous as acompanion to a youthful female heart; and as his visit was to extend to acouple of months, she resolved to reconnoitre the state of her pupil'sopinion forthwith in reference to his merits. She had taken too much painsin forming the mind of Emily to apprehend she would fall a victim to theeye; but she also knew that personal grace sweetened a benevolentexpression, and added force even to the oracles of wisdom. She labored alittle herself under the disadvantage of what John called a didacticmanner, and which, although she had not the ability, or rather taste, toamend, she had yet the sense to discern. It was the great error of Mrs. Wilson to attempt to convince, where she might have influenced; but herardor of temperament, and great love of truth, kept her, as it were, tilting with the vices of mankind, and consequently sometimes inunprofitable combat. With her charge, however, this could never be said tobe the case, Emily knew her heart, felt her love, and revered herprinciples too deeply, to throw away an admonition, or disregard aprecept, that fell from lips she knew never spoke idly or withoutconsideration. 

John had felt tempted to push the conversation with Miss Jarvis, and hewas about to utter something rapturous respecting the melodious poison ofLittle's poems, as the blue eye of Emily rested on him in the fulness ofsisterly affection and checking his love of the ridiculous, he quietlyyielded to his respect for the innocence of his sisters; and, as if eagerto draw the attention of all from the hateful subject, he put questionafter question to Egerton concerning the Spaniards and their customs. 

"Did you ever meet Lord Pendennyss in Spain, Colonel Egerton?" inquiredMrs. Wilson, with interest. 

"Never, madam, " he replied. "I have much reason to regret that our servicelay in different parts of the country: his lordship was much with theduke, and I made the campaign under Marshal Beresford. "

Emily left the group at the window, and taking a seat on the sofa by theside of her aunt, insensibly led her to forget the gloomy thoughts whichhad begun to steal over her; which the colonel, approaching where theysat, continued, by asking--

"Are you acquainted with the earl, madam?"

"Not in person, but by character, " said Mrs. Wilson, in a melancholymanner. 

"His character as a soldier was very high. He had no superior of his yearsin Spain, I am told. "

No reply was made to this remark, and Emily endeavored anxiously to drawthe mind of her aunt to reflections of a more agreeable nature. Thecolonel, whose vigilance to please was ever on the alert, kindly aidedher, and they soon succeeded. 

The merchant withdrew, with his family and guest, in proper season: andMrs. Wilson, heedful of her duty, took the opportunity of a quarter of anhour's privacy in her own dressing-room in the evening, to touch gently onthe subject of the gentlemen they had seen that day. 

"How are you pleased, Emily, with your new acquaintances?" familiarlycommenced Mrs. Wilson. 

"Oh! aunt, don't ask me; as John says, they are _net_ indeed. "

"I am not sorry, " continued the aunt, "to have you observe more closelythan you have been used to the manners of such women as the Jarvises; theyare too abrupt and unpleasant to create a dread of any imitation; but thegentlemen are heroes in very different styles. "

"Different from each other, indeed. "

"To which do you give the preference, my dear?"

"Preference, aunt!" said her niece, with a look of astonishment;"preference is a strong word for either; but I rather think the captainthe most eligible companion of the two. I do believe you see the worst ofhim; and although I acknowledge it to be bad enough, he might amend; butthe colonel"--

"Go on, " said Mrs. Wilson. 

"Why, everything about the colonel seems so seated, so ingrafted in hisnature, so--so very self-satisfied, that I am afraid it would be adifficult task to take the first step in amendment--to convince him of itsnecessity?

"And is it then so necessary?"

Emily looked up from arranging some laces, with an expression of surprise, as he replied:

"Did you not hear him talk of those poems, and attempt to point out thebeauties of several works? I thought everything he uttered was referred totaste, and that not a very natural one; at least, " she added with a laugh, "it differed greatly from mine. He seemed to forget altogether there wassuch a thing as principle: and then he spoke of some woman to Jane, whohad left her father for her lover, with so much admiration of herfeelings, to take up with poverty and love, as he called it, in place ofcondemning her want of filial piety--I am sure, aunt, if you had heardthat, you would not admire him so much. "

"I do not admire him at all, child; I only want to know your sentiments, and I am happy to find them so correct. It is as you think; ColonelEgerton appears to refer nothing to principle: even the more generousfeelings I am afraid are corrupted in him, from too low intercourse withthe surface of society. There is by far too much pliability about him forprinciple of any kind, unless indeed it be a principle to please, nomatter how. No one, who has deeply seated opinions of right and wrong, will ever abandon them, even in the courtesies of polite intercourse: theymay be silent but never acquiescent: in short, my dear, the dread ofoffending our Maker ought to be so superior to that of offending ourfellow creatures, that we should endeavor, I believe, to be even moreunbending to the follies of the world than we are. "

"And yet the colonel is what they call a good companion--I mean a pleasantone. "

"In the ordinary meaning of the words, he is certainly, my dear; yet yousoon tire of sentiments which will not stand the test of examination, andof a manner you cannot but see is artificial. He may do very well for acompanion, but very ill for a friend; in short, Colonel Egerton hasneither been satisfied to yield to his natural impressions, nor to obtainnew ones from a proper source; he has copied from bad models, and his workmust necessarily be imperfect. "

Kissing her niece, Mrs. Wilson then retired into her own room, with thehappy assurance that she had not labored in vain; but that, with divineaid, she had implanted a guide in the bosom of her charge that could notfail, with ordinary care, to lead her straight through the devious path offemale duties. 

Chapter VII. 

A Month now passed in the ordinary occupations and amusements of a countrylife, during which both Lady Moseley and Jane manifested a desire to keepup the deanery acquaintance, that surprised Emily a little, who had everseen her mother shrink from communications with those whose breedingsubjected her own delicacy, to the little shocks she could but illconceal. In Jane this desire was still more inexplicable; for Jane had, ina decided way very common to her, avowed her disgust of the manners oftheir new associates at the commencement of the acquaintance; and yet Janewould now even quit her own society for that of Miss Jarvis, especially ifColonel Egerton happened to be of the party The innocence of Emilyprevented her scanning the motives for the conduct of her sister; and sheset seriously about an examination into her own deportment to find thelatent cause, in order, wherever an opportunity should offer, to evinceher regret, had it been her misfortune, to have erred by the tenderness ofher own manner. 

For a short time the colonel seemed at a loss where to make his choice;but a few days determined him, and Jane was evidently the favorite. It istrue, that in the presence of the Jarvis ladies he was more guarded andgeneral in his attentions; but as John, from a motive of charity, hadtaken the direction of the captain's sports into his own hands; and asthey were in the frequent habit of meeting at the Hall preparatory totheir morning excursion, the colonel suddenly became a sportsman. Theladies would often accompany them in their morning excursions; and asJohn would certainly be a baronet, and the colonel might not if his unclemarried, he had the comfort of being sometimes ridden, as well as ofriding. 

One morning, having all prepared for an excursion on horseback, as theystood at the door ready to mount, Francis Ives drove up in his father'sgig, and for a moment arrested the party. Francis was a favorite with thewhole Moseley family, and their greetings were warm and sincere. He foundthey meant to take the rectory in their ride, and insisted that theyshould proceed. "Clara would take a seat with him. " As he spoke, the castof his countenance brought the color into the cheeks of his intended; shesuffered herself, however, to be handed into the vacant seat in the gig, and they moved on. John, who was at the bottom good-natured, and lovedboth Francis and Clara very sincerely, soon set Captain Jarvis and hissister what he called "scrub racing, " and necessity, in some measure, compelled the rest of the equestrians to hard riding, in order to keep upwith the sports. 

"That will do, that will do, " cried John, casting his eye back, andperceiving they had lost sight of the gig, and nearly so of ColonelEgerton and Jane, "why you carry it off like a jockey, captain; betterthan any amateur I have ever seen, unless indeed it be your sister. "

The lady encouraged by his commendations, whipped on, followed by herbrother and sister at half speed. 

"There, Emily, " said John, quietly dropping by her side "I see no reasonyou and I should break our necks, to show the blood of our horses. Now doyou know I think we are going to have a wedding in the family soon?"

Emily looked at him in amazement. 

"Frank has got a living; I saw it the moment he drove up. He came in likesomebody. Yes, I dare say he has calculated the tithes already a dozentimes. "

John was right. The Earl of Bolton had, unsolicited, given him the desiredliving of his own parish; and Francis was at the moment pressing theblushing Clara to fix the day that was to put a period to his longprobation. Clara, who had not a particle of coquetry about her, promisedto be his as soon as he was inducted, an event that was to take place thefollowing week; and then followed those delightful little arrangements andplans with which youthful hope is so fond of filling up the void of life. 

"Doctor, " said John, as he came out of the rectory to assist Clara fromthe gig, "the parson here is a careful driver; see, he has not turned ahair. "

He kissed the burning cheek of his sister as she touched the ground, andwhispered significantly. 

"You need tell me nothing, my dear--I know all--I consent. "

Mrs. Ives folded her future daughter to her bosom; and the benevolentsmile of the good rector, together with the kind and affectionate mannerof her sisters, assured Clara the approaching nuptials were anticipated, as a matter of course. Colonel Egerton offered his compliments to Francison his preferment to the living, with the polish of high breeding, and notwithout an appearance of interest; and Emily thought him for the firsttime as handsome as he was generally reputed to be. The ladies undertookto say something civil in their turn, and John put the captain, by a hint, on the same track. 

"You are quite lucky, sir, " said the captain, "in getting so good a livingwith so little trouble; I wish you joy of it with all my heart: Mr. Moseley tells me it is a capital thing now for a gentleman of yourprofession. For my part. I prefer a scarlet coat to a black one, butthere must be parsons you know, or how should we get married or saygrace?"

Francis thanked him for his good wishes, and Egerton paid a handsomecompliment to the liberality of the earl; "he doubted not he found thatgratification which always attends a disinterested act;" and Janeapplauded the sentiment with a smile. 

The baronet, when he was made acquainted with the situation of affairs, promised Francis that no unnecessary delay should intervene, and themarriage was happily arranged for the following week. Lady Moseley, whenshe retired to the drawing-room after dinner, commenced a recital of theceremony and company to be invited on the occasion. Etiquette and thedecencies of life were not only the forte, but the fault of this lady; andshe had gone on to the enumeration of about the fortieth personage in theceremonials, before Clara found courage to say, that "Mr. Ives and myselfboth wish to be married at the altar, and to proceed to Bolton Rectoryimmediately after the ceremony. " To this her mother warmly objected; andargument and respectful remonstrance had followed each other for sometime, before Clara submitted in silence, with difficulty restraining hertears. This appeal to the better feelings of the mother triumphed; and thelove of parade yielded to love of her offspring. Clara, with a lightenedheart, kissed and thanked her, and accompanied by Emily left the room;Jane had risen to follow them, but catching a glimpse of the tilbury ofColonel Egerton she reseated herself. 

He had merely driven over at the earnest entreaties of the ladies to begMiss Jane would accept a seat back with him; "they had some little projecton foot, and could not proceed without her assistance. "

Mrs. Wilson looked gravely at her sister, as she smiled acquiescence tohis wishes; and the daughter, who but the minute before had forgottenthere was any other person in the world but Clara, flew for her hat andshawl, in order, as he said to herself, that the politeness of ColonelEgerton might not keep him waiting. Lady Moseley resumed her seat by theside of her sister with an air of great complacency, as she returned fromthe window, after having seen her daughter off. For some time each wasoccupied quietly with her needle, when Mrs. Wilson suddenly broke thesilence by saying:

"Who is Colonel Egerton?"

Lady Moseley looked up for a moment in amazement, but recollectingherself, answered, "The nephew and heir of Sir Edgar Egerton, sister. "

This was spoken in a rather positive way, as if it were unanswerable; yetas there was nothing harsh in the reply, Mrs. Wilson continued, "Do you not think him attentive to Jane?"

Pleasure sparkled in the still brilliant eyes of Lady Moseley, as sheexclaimed--

"Do you think so?"

"I do; and you will pardon me if I say improperly so. I think you werewrong in suffering Jane to go with him this afternoon. "

"Why improperly, Charlotte? If Colonel Egerton is polite enough to showJane such attentions, should I not be wrong in rudely rejecting them?"

"The rudeness of refusing a request that is improper to grant is a veryvenial offence. I confess I think it improper to allow any attentions tobe forced on us that may subject us to disagreeable consequences; but theattentions of Colonel Egerton are becoming marked, Anne. "

"Do you for a moment doubt their being honorable, or that he dares totrifle with a daughter of Sir Edward Moseley?"

"I should hope not, certainly, although it may be well to guard evenagainst such a misfortune. But I am of opinion it is quite as important toknow whether he is _worthy_ to be her husband as it is to know that he isin a situation to become so. "

"On what points, Charlotte, would you wish to be more assured? You knowhis birth and probable fortune--you see his manners and disposition; butthese latter are things for Jane to decide on; _she_ is to live with him, and it is proper she should be suited in these respects. "

"I do not deny his fortune or his disposition, but I complain that we givehim credit for the last, and for still more important requisites, withoutevidence of his possessing any of them. His principles, his habits, hisvery character, what do we know of them? I say we, for you know, Anne, your children are as dear to me as my own would have been. "

"I believe you sincerely, but the things you mention are points for Janeto decide on. If she be pleased, I have no right to complain. I amdetermined never to control the affections of my children. "

"Had you said, never _to force_ the affections of your children, you wouldhave said enough, Anne; but to control, or rather to guide the affectionsof a child, especially a daughter, is, in some cases, a duty as imperativeas it would be to avert any other impending calamity. Surely the propertime to do this is before the affections of the child are likely toendanger her peace of mind. "

"I have seldom seen much good result from the interference of parents, "said Lady Moseley, a little pertinaciously. 

"True; for to be of use, unless in extraordinary cases, it should not beseen. You will pardon me, Anne, but I have often thought parents are toooften in extremes--determined to make the election for their children, orleaving them entirely to their own vanity and inexperience, to govern notonly their own lives, but, I may say, to leave an impression on futuregenerations. And, after all, what is this love? In nineteen cases intwenty of what we call affairs of the heart, it would be better to termthem affairs of the _imagination. "_

"And is there not a great deal of imagination in all love?" inquired LadyMoseley, smiling. 

"Undoubtedly, there is some; but there is one important difference: inaffairs of the imagination, the admired object is gifted with all thosequalities we esteem, as a matter of course, and there is a certain set offemales who are ever ready to bestow this admiration on any applicant fortheir favors who may not be strikingly objectionable. The necessity ofbeing courted makes our sex rather too much disposed to admire impropersuitors. "

"But how do you distinguish affairs of the heart, Charlotte, from those ofthe fancy?"

"When the heart takes the lead, it is not difficult to detect it. Suchsentiments generally follow long intercourse, and opportunities of judgingthe real character. They are the only attachments that are likely to standthe test of worldly trials. "

"Suppose Emily to be the object of Colonel Egerton's pursuit, then, sister, in what manner would you proceed to destroy the influence Iacknowledge he is gaining over Jane?"

"I cannot suppose such a case, " said Mrs. Wilson, gravely; and then, observing that her sister looked as if she required an explanation, shecontinued--

"My attention has been directed to the forming of such principles, andsuch a taste, if I may use the expression, under those principles, that Ifeel no apprehension Emily will ever allow her affections to be ensnaredby a man of the opinions and views of Colonel Egerton. I am impressed witha twofold duty in watching the feelings of my charge. She has so muchsingleness of heart, such real strength of native feeling, that, should animproper man gain possession of her affections, the struggle between herduty and her love would be weighty indeed; and should it proceed so far asto make it her duty to love an unworthy object, I am sure she would sinkunder it. Emily would die in the same, circumstances under which Janewould only awake from a dream, and be wretched. "

"I thought you entertained a better opinion of Jane, sister, " said LadyMoseley, reproachfully. 

"I think her admirably calculated to make an invaluable wife and mother;but she is so much under the influence of her fancy, that she seldom givesher heart an opportunity of displaying its excellences; and again, shedwells so much upon imaginary perfections, that adulation has becomenecessary to her. The man who flatters her delicately will be sure to winher esteem; and every woman might love the being possessed of thequalities she will not fail to endow him with. "

"I do not know that I rightly understand how you would avert all these sadconsequences of improvident affections?" said Lady Moseley. 

"Prevention is better than cure--I would first implant such opinions aswould lessen the danger of intercourse; and as for particular attentionsfrom improper objects, it should be my care to prevent them, byprohibiting, or rather impeding, the intimacy which might give rise tothem. And least of all, " said Mrs. Wilson, with a friendly smile, as sherose to leave the room, "would I suffer a fear of being impolite toendanger the happiness of a young woman intrusted to my care. "

Chapter VIII. 

Francis, who labored with the ardor of a lover, soon completed thenecessary arrangements and alterations in his new parsonage. The livingwas a good one, and as the rector was enabled to make a very considerableannual allowance from the private fortune his wife had brought him, and asSir Edward had twenty thousand pounds in the funds for each of hisdaughters, one portion of which was immediately settled on Clara, theyouthful couple had not only a sufficient, but an abundant provision fortheir station in life; and they entered on their matrimonial duties withas good a prospect of happiness as the ills of this world can give tohealth, affection, and competency. Their union had been deferred by Dr. Ives until his son was established, with a view to keep him under his owndirection during the critical period of his first impressions in thepriesthood; and as no objection now remained, or rather, the only one heever felt was removed by the proximity of Bolton to his own parish, he nowjoyfully united the lovers at the altar of the village church, in thepresence of his wife and Clara's immediate relatives. On leaving thechurch Francis handed his bride into his own carriage, which conveyed themto their new residence, amidst the good wishes of his parishioners, andthe prayers of their relatives and friends. Dr. And Mrs. Ives retired tothe rectory, to the sober enjoyment of the felicity of their only child;while the baronet and his lady felt a gloom that belied all the wishes ofthe latter for the establishment of her daughters. Jane and Emily acted asbridesmaids to their sister, and as both the former and her mother hadinsisted there should be two groomsmen as a counterpoise, John wasempowered with a carte-blanche to make a provision accordingly. At firsthe intimated his intention of calling on Mr. Benfield, but he finallysettled down, to the no small mortification of the before-mentionedladies, into writing a note to his kinsman, Lord Chatterton, whoseresidence was then in London, and who in reply, after expressing hissincere regret that an accident would prevent his having the pleasure ofattending, stated the intention of his mother and two sisters to pay theman early visit of congratulation, as soon as his own health would allow ofhis travelling. This answer arrived only the day preceding that fixed forthe wedding, and at the very moment they were expecting his lordship inproper person. 

"There, " cried Jane, in triumph, "I told you it was silly to send so faron so sudden an occasion; now, after all, what is to be done--it will beso awkward when Clara's friends call to see her--Oh! John, John, you are aMarplot. "

"Jenny, Jenny, you are a make-plot, " said John, coolly taking up his hatto leave the room. 

"Which way, my son?" said the baronet, who met him at the door. 

"To the deanery, sir, to try to get Captain Jarvis to act as bridesmaid--Ibeg his pardon, groomsman, to-morrow--Chatterton has been thrown from ahorse and can't come. ''

"John!"

"Jenny!"

"I am sure, " said Jane, indignation glowing in her pretty face, "that ifCaptain Jarvis is to be an attendant, Clara must excuse my acting. I donot choose to be associated with Captain Jarvis. "

"John, " said his mother, with dignity, "your trifling is unseasonable;certainly Colonel Egerton is a more fitting person on every account, and Idesire, under present circumstances, that you ask the colonel. "

"Your ladyship's wishes are orders to me, " said John, gaily kissing hishand as he left the room. 

The colonel was but too happy in having it in his power to be of servicein any manner to a gentleman he respected as much as Mr. Francis Ives. Heaccepted the duty, and was the only person present at the ceremony who didnot stand within the bonds of consanguinity to the parties. He was invitedby the baronet to dine at the hall, as a matter of course, andnotwithstanding the repeated injunctions of Mrs. Jarvis and her daughters, to return immediately with an account of the dress of the bride, and withother important items of a similar nature, the invitation was accepted. Onreaching the hall, Emily retired immediately to her own room, and at herreappearance when the dinner bell rang, the paleness of her cheeks and theredness of her eyes afforded sufficient proof that the translation of acompanion from her own to another family was an event, however happy initself, not unmingled with grief. The day, however, passed off tolerablywell for people who are expected to be premeditatedly happy, and when, intheir hearts, they are really more disposed to weep than to laugh. Janeand the colonel had most of the conversation to themselves during dinner:even the joyous and thoughtless John wearing his gaiety in a less gracefulmanner than usual. He was actually detected by his aunt in looking withmoistened eyes at the vacant chair a servant had, from habit, placed atthe table, in the spot where Clara had been accustomed to sit. 

"This beef is not done, Saunders, " said the baronet to his butler, "or myappetite is not as good as usual to-day. Colonel Egerton, will you allowme the pleasure of a glass of sherry?"

The wine was drunk, and the game succeeded the beef; but still Sir Edwardcould not eat. 

"How glad Clara will be to see us all the day after to-morrow, " said Mrs. Wilson; "your new housekeepers delight in their first efforts inentertaining their friends. "

Lady Moseley smiled through her tears, and turning to her husband said, "We will go early, my dear, that we may see the improvements Francis hasbeen making before we dine. " The baronet nodded assent, but his heart wastoo full to speak; and apologizing to the colonel for his absence, on theplea of some business with his people, he left the room. 

All this time, the attentions of Colonel Egerton to both mother anddaughter were of the most delicate kind. He spoke of Clara as if hisoffice of groomsman entitled him to an interest in her welfare; with Johnhe was kind and sociable; and even Mrs. Wilson acknowledged, after he hadtaken his leave, that he possessed a wonderful faculty of making himselfagreeable, and she began to think that, under all circumstances, he mightpossibly prove as advantageous a connexion as Jane could expect to form. Had any one, however, proposed him as a husband for Emily, affection wouldhave quickened her judgment in a way that would have urged her to a verydifferent decision. 

Soon after the baronet left the room, a travelling carriage, with suitableattendants, drove to the door; the sound of the wheels drew most of thecompany to a window. "A baron's coronet!" cried Jane, catching a glimpseof the ornaments of the harness. 

"The Chattertons, " echoed her brother, running out of the room to meetthem. 

The mother of Sir Edward was a daughter of this family, and the sister ofthe grandfather of the present lord. The connexion had always been kept upwith a show of cordiality between Sir Edward and his cousin, althoughtheir manner of living and habits were very different. The baron was acourtier and a placeman. His estates, which he could not alienate, produced about ten thousand a year, but the income he could and did spend;and the high perquisites of his situation under government, amounting toas much more were melted away year after year, without making the provision for his daughters that his duty and the observance of his promiseto his wife's father required at his hands. He had been dead about twoyears, and his son found himself saddled with the support of anunjointured mother and unportioned sisters. Money was not the idol theyoung lord worshipped, nor even pleasure. He was affectionate to hissurviving parent, and his first act was to settle, during his own life, two thousand a year on her, while he commenced setting aside as much morefor each of his sisters annually. This abridged him greatly in his ownexpenditures; yet, as they made but one family, and the dowager was reallya _managing_ woman in more senses than one, they made a very tolerablefigure. The son was anxious to follow the example of Sir Edward Moseley, and give up his town house, for at least a time; but his mother hadexclaimed, with something like horror, at the proposal:

"Chatterton, would you give it up at the moment it can be of the most useto us?" and she threw a glance at her daughters that would have discoveredher motive to Mrs Wilson, which was lost on her son; he, poor soul, thinking she found it convenient to support the interest he had beenmaking for the place held by his father one of more emolument thanservice, or even honor. The contending parties were so equally matched, that this situation was kept, as it were, in abeyance, waiting the arrivalof some acquisition of interest to one or other of the claimants. Theinterest of the peer, however, had begun to lose ground at the period ofwhich we speak, and his careful mother saw new motives for activity inproviding for her children. Mrs. Wilson herself could not be more vigilantin examining the candidates for Emily's favors than was the dowager LadyChatterton in behalf of her daughter. It is true, the task of the formerJady was by far the most arduous, for it involved a study of character anddevelopment of principle; while that of the latter would have ended withthe footing of a rent-roll, provided it contained five figures. SirEdward's was well known to contain that number, and two of them were notciphers. Mr. Benfield was rich, and John Moseley was a very agreeableyoung man. Weddings are the season of love, thought the prudent dowager, and Grace is extremely pretty. Chatterton, who never refused his motheranything in his power to grant, and who was particularly dutiful when avisit to Moseley Hall was in question, suffered himself to be persuadedhis shoulder was well, and they had left town the day before the wedding, thinking to be in time for all the gaieties, if not for the ceremonyitself. 

There existed but little similarity between the persons and manners ofthis young nobleman and the baronet's heir. The beauty of Chatterton wasalmost feminine; his skin, his color, his eyes, his teeth, were such asmany a belle had sighed after; and his manners were bashful and retiring. Yet an intimacy had commenced between the boys at school, which ripenedinto friendship between the young men at college, and had been maintainedever since, probably as much from the contrarieties of character as fromany other cause. With the baron, John was more sedate than ordinary; withJohn, Chatterton found unusual animation. But a secret charm which Johnheld over the young peer was his profound respect and unvarying affectionfor his youngest sister, Emily. This was common ground; and no dreams offuture happiness, no visions of dawning wealth, crossed the imagination ofChatterton in which Emily was not the fairy to give birth to the one, orthe benevolent dispenser of the hoards of the other. 

The arrival of this family was a happy relief from the oppression whichhung on the spirits of the Moseleys, and their reception marked with themild benevolence which belonged to the nature of the baronet, and that_impressement_ which so eminently distinguished the manners of his wife. 

The honorable Misses Chatterton were both handsome; but the younger was, if possible, a softened picture of her brother. There was the sameretiring bashfulness and the same sweetness of temper as distinguished thebaron, and Grace was the peculiar favorite of Emily Moseley. Nothing ofthe strained or sentimental nature which so often characterize what iscalled female friendships, however, had crept into the communicationsbetween these young women. Emily loved her sisters too well to go out ofher own family for a repository of her griefs or a partaker in her joys. Had her life been chequered with such passions, her own sisters were toonear her own age to suffer her to think of a confidence in which the holyties of natural affection did not give a claim to a participation. Mrs. Wilson had found it necessary to give her charge very different views onmany subjects from those which Jane and Clara had been suffered to imbibeof themselves; but in no degree had she impaired the obligations of filialpiety or family concord. Emily was, if anything, more respectful to herparents, more affectionate to her friends, than any of her connexions; forin her the warmth of natural feeling was heightened by an unvarying senseof duty. 

In Grace Chatterton she found, in many respects, a temper and tasteresembling her own. She therefore loved her better than others who hadequally general claims on her partiality, and as such a friend she nowreceived her with cordial and sincere affection. 

Jane, who had not felt satisfied with the ordering of Providence for thedisposal of her sympathies, and had long felt a restlessness that promptedher to look abroad for a confiding spirit to whom to communicateher--secrets she had none that delicacy would suffer her to reveal--but tocommunicate her crude opinions and reflections, she had early selectedCatherine for this person. Catherine, however, had not stood the test oftrial. For a short time the love of heraldry kept them together; but Jane, finding her companion's gusto limited to the charms of the coronet andsupporters chiefly, abandoned the attempt in despair, and was actually onthe look-out for a new candidate for the vacant station as Colonel Egertoncame into the neighborhood. A really delicate female mind shrinks from theexposure of its love to the other sex, and Jane began to be less anxiousto form a connexion which would either violate the sensibility of hernature, or lead to treachery to her friend. 

"I regret extremely, Lady Moseley, " said the dowager, as they entered thedrawing-room, "that the accident which befel Chatterton should have keptus until it was too late for the ceremony: we made it a point to hastenwith our congratulations, however, as soon as Astley Cooper thought itsafe for him to travel. "

"I feel indebted for your kindness, " replied the smiling hostess. "We arealways happy to have our friends around us, and none more than yourselfand family. We were fortunate in finding a friend to supply your son'splace, in order that the young people might go to the altar in a propermanner. Lady Chatterton, allow me to present our friend, ColonelEgerton"--adding, in a low tone, and with a little emphasis, --"heir to SirEdgar. "

The colonel bowed gracefully, and the dowager dropped a hasty courtesy atthe commencement of the speech; but lower bend followed the closingremark, and a glance of the eye was thrown in quest of her daughters, asif she instinctively wished to bring them into what the sailors term "theline of battle. "

Chapter IX. 

The following morning, Emily and Grace, declining the invitation to jointhe colonel and John in their usual rides, walked to the rectory, accompanied by Mrs. Wilson and Chatterton. The ladies felt a desire towitness the happiness that they so well knew reigned in the rectory, forFrancis had promised his father to drive Clara over in the course of theday. Emily longed to see Clara, from whom it appeared that she had beenalready separated a month. Her impatience as they approached the househurried her ahead of her companions, who waited the more sober gait ofMrs. Wilson. She entered the parlor at the rectory without meeting anyone, glowing with exercise, her hair falling over her shoulders, releasedfrom the confinement of the hat she had thrown down hastily as she reachedthe door. In the room there stood a gentleman in deep black, with his backtowards the entrance, intent on a book, and she naturally concluded it wasFrancis. 

"Where is dear Clara, Frank?" cried the beautiful girl, faying her handaffectionately on his shoulder. 

The gentleman turned suddenly, and presented to her astonished gaze thewell remembered countenance of the young man whose parent's death was notlikely to be forgotten at B----. 

"I thought, sir, " said Emily, almost sinking with confusion, "that Mr. Francis Ives--"

"Your brother 'has not yet arrived, Miss Moseley, " simply replied thestranger, who felt for her embarrassment. "But I will immediatelyacquaint Mrs. Ives with your visit. " Bowing, he delicately left the room. 

Emily, who felt greatly relieved by his manner, immediately confined herhair in its proper bounds, and had recovered her composure by the time heraunt and friends joined her. She had not time to mention the incident, andlaughed at her own precipitation, when the rector's wife came into theroom. 

Chatterton and his sister were both known to Mrs. Ives, and both werefavorites. She was pleased to see them, and after reproaching the brotherwith compelling her son to ask a favor of a comparative stranger, sheturned to Emily, and smilingly said--

"You found the parlor occupied, I believe?"

"Yes, " said Emily, laughing and blushing, "I suppose Mr. Denbigh told youof my heedlessness. "

"He told me of your attention in calling so soon to inquire after Clara, but said nothing more"--a servant just then telling her Francis wished tosee her, she excused herself and withdrew. In the door she met Mr. Denbigh, who made way for her, saying, "your son has arrived, ma'am, " andin an easy but respectful manner he took his place with the guests, nointroduction passing, and none seeming necessary. His misfortunes appearedto have made him acquainted with Mrs. Wilson, and his strikingly ingenuousmanner won insensibly on the confidence of those who heard him. Everythingwas natural, yet everything was softened by education; and the littleparty in the rector's parlor in fifteen minutes felt as if they had knownhim for years. The doctor and his son now joined them. Clara had not come, but she was looking forward in delightful expectation of to-morrow, andwished greatly for Emily as a guest at the new abode. This pleasure Mrs. Wilson promised she should have as soon as they had got over the hurry oftheir visit; "our friends, " she added, turning to Grace, "will overlookthe nicer punctilios of ceremony, where sisterly regard calls for thedischarge of more important duties. Clara needs the society of Emily justnow. "

"Certainly, " said Grace, mildly; "I hope no useless ceremony on the partof Emily would prevent her manifesting natural attachment to her sister--Ishould feel hurt at her not entertaining a better opinion of us than tosuppose so for a moment. "

"This, young ladies, is the real feeling to keep alive esteem, " cried thedoctor, gaily: "go on, and say and do nothing of which either candisapprove, when tried by the standard of duty, and you need never beafraid of losing a friend that is worth keeping. "

It was three o'clock before the carriage of Mrs. Wilson arrived at therectory; and the time stole away insensibly in free and friendlycommunications. Denbigh had joined modestly, and with the degree ofinterest a stranger might be supposed to feel, in the occurrences of acircle to which he was nearly a stranger; there was at times a slightdisplay of awkwardness, however, about both him and Mrs. Ives, for whichMrs. Wilson easily accounted by recollections of his recent loss and thescene they had all witnessed in that very room. This embarrassment escapedthe notice of the rest of the party. On the arrival of the carriage, Mrs. Wilson took her leave. 

"I like this Mr. Denbigh greatly, " said Lord Chatterton, as they drovefrom the door; "there is something strikingly natural and winning in hismanner. "

"In his matter too, judging of the little we have seen of him, " repliedMrs. Wilson. 

"Who is he, ma'am?"

"I rather suspect he is someway related to Mrs. Ives; her staying fromBolton to-day must be owing to Mr. Denbigh, and as the doctor has justgone he must be near enough to them to be neither wholly neglected nor yeta tax upon their politeness. I rather wonder he did not go with them. "

"I heard him tell Francis, " remarked Emily, "that he could not think ofintruding, and he insisted on Mrs. Ives's going, but she had employmentsto keep her at home. "

The carriage soon reached an angle in the road where the highways betweenBolton Castle and Moseley Hall intersected each other, at a point on theestate of the former. Mrs. Wilson stopped a moment to inquire after anaged pensioner, who had lately met with a loss in business, which she wasfearful must have greatly distressed him. In crossing a ford in the littleriver between his cottage and the market-town, the stream, which had beenswollen unexpectedly higher than usual by heavy rains, had swept away hishorse and cart loaded with the entire produce of his small field, and withmuch difficulty he had saved even his own life. Mrs. Wilson had not had itin her power until this moment to inquire particularly into the affair, orto offer the relief she was ever ready to bestow on proper objects. Contrary to her expectations, she found Humphreys in high spirits, showinghis delighted grand-children a new cart and horse which stood at the door, and exultingly pointing out the excellent qualities of both. He ceasedtalking on the approach of the party, and at the request of his ancientbenefactress he gave a particular account of the affair. 

"And where did you get this new cart and horse, Humphreys?" inquired Mrs. Wilson, when he had ended. 

"Oh, madam, I went up to the castle to see the steward, and Mr. Martinjust mentioned my loss to Lord Pendennyss, ma'am, and my lord ordered methis cart, ma'am, and this noble horse, and twenty golden guineas intothe bargain to put me on my legs again--God bless him for it, for ever!"

"It was very kind of his lordship, indeed, " said Mrs. Wilson, thoughtfully: "I did not know he was at the castle. "

"He's gone, already, madam; the servants told me that he just called tosee the earl, on his way to Lon'on; but finding he'd went a few days agoneto Ireland my lord went for Lon'on, without stopping the night even. Ah!madam, " continued the old man, who stood leaning on a stick, with his hatin his hand, "he's a great blessing to the poor; his servants say he givesthousands every year to the poor who are in want--he is main rich, too;some people say, much richer and more great like than the earl himself. I'm sure I have need to bless him every day of my life. "

Mrs. Wilson smiled mournfully as she wished Humphreys good day and put upher purse, finding the old man so well provided for; a display orcompetition in charity never entering into her system of benevolence. 

"His lordship is munificent in his bounty, " said Emily, as they drove fromthe door. 

"Does it not savor of thoughtlessness to bestow so much where he can knowso little?" Lord Chatterton ventured to inquire. 

"He is, " replied Mrs. Wilson, "as old Humphrey says, main rich; but theson of the old man and the father of these children is a soldier in the----th dragoons, of which the earl is colonel, and that accounts to me forhis liberality, " recollecting, with a sigh, the feelings which had drawnher out of the usual circle of her charities in the case of the same man. 

"Did you ever see Lord Pendennyss, aunt?"

"Never, my dear; he has been much abroad, but my letters were filled withhis praises, and I confess my disappointment is great in not seeing himon this visit to Lord Bolton who is his relation; but, " fixing her eyesthoughtfully on her niece, "we shall meet in London this winter, I trust. "

As she spoke a cloud passed over her features, and she continued muchabsorbed in thought for the remainder of their drive. 

General Wilson had been a cavalry officer, and he commanded the veryregiment now held by Lord Pendennyss. In an excursion near the Britishcamp he had been rescued from captivity, if not from death, by a gallantand timely interference of this young nobleman, then in command of a troopin the same corps. He had mentioned the occurrence to his wife in hisletters, and from that day his correspondence was filled with the praisesof the bravery and goodness to the soldiery of his young comrade. When hefell he had been supported from the field by, and he actually died in thearms of the young peer. A letter announcing his death had been received byhis widow from the earl himself, and the tender and affectionate manner inwhich he spoke of her husband had taken a deep hold on her affections. Allthe circumstances together threw an interest around him that had made Mrs. Wilson almost entertain the romantic wish he might be found worthy anddisposed to solicit the hand of Emily. Her anxious inquiries into hischaracter had been attended with such answers as flattered her wishes; butthe military duties of the earl or his private affairs had never allowed ameeting; and she was now compelled to look forward to what John laughinglytermed their winter campaign, as the only probable place where she couldbe gratified with the sight of a young man to whom she owed so much, andwhose name was connected with some of the most tender though mostmelancholy recollections of her life. 

Colonel Egerton, who now appeared to be almost domesticated in thefamily, was again of the party at dinner, to the no small satisfaction ofthe dowager, who from proper inquiries in the course of the day hadlearned that Sir Edgar's heir was likely to have the necessary number offigures in the sum total of his rental. While sitting in the drawing-roomthat afternoon she made an attempt to bring her eldest daughter and theelegant soldier together over a chess-board; a game the young lady hadbeen required to learn because it was one at which a gentleman could bekept longer than any other without having his attention drawn away by anyof those straggling charms which might be travelling a drawing-room"seeking whom they may devour. " It was also a game admirably suited to thedisplay of a beautiful hand and arm. But the mother had for a long timebeen puzzled to discover a way of bringing in the foot also, the younglady being particularly remarkable for the beauty of that portion of theframe. In vain her daughter hinted at dancing, an amusement of which shewas passionately fond. The wary mother knew too well the effects ofconcentrated force to listen to the suggestion: dancing might do for everymanager, but she prided herself in acting _en masse_, like Napoleon, whosetactics consisted in overwhelming by uniting his forces on a given point. After many experiments in her own person she endeavored to improveCatharine's manner of sitting, and by dint of twisting and turning shecontrived that her pretty foot and ankle should be thrown forward in a waythat the eye dropping from the move, should unavoidably rest on thisbeauteous object; giving, as it were, a Scylla and Charybdis to herdaughter's charms. 

John Moseley was the first person on whom she undertook to try the effectof her invention; and after comfortably seating the parties she withdrewto a little distance to watch the effect. 

"Check to your king, Miss Chatterton, " cried John, early in the game--andthe young lady thrust out her foot. "Check to _your_ king, Mr. Moseley, "echoed the damsel, and John's eyes wandered from hand to foot and foot tohand. "Check king and queen, sir. "--"Check-mate. "--"Did you speak?" saidJohn. Looking up he caught the eye of the dowager fixed on him intriumph--"Oh, ho, " said the young man, internally, "Mother Chatterton, areyou playing too?" and, coolly taking up his hat, he walked off, nor couldthey ever get him seated at the game again. 

"You beat me too easily, Miss Chatterton, " he would say when pressed toplay, "before I have time to look up it's check-mate--excuse me. "

The dowager next settled down into a more covert attack through Grace; buthere she had two to contend with: her own forces rebelled, and the war hadbeen protracted to the present hour with varied success, and at leastwithout any material captures, on one side. 

Colonel Egerton entered on the duties of his dangerous undertaking withthe indifference of foolhardiness. The game was played with tolerableability by both parties; but no emotions, no absence of mind could bediscovered on the part of the gentleman. Feet and hands were in motion;still the colonel played as well as usual; he had answers for all Jane'squestions, and smiles for his partner; but no check-mate could she obtain, until wilfully throwing away an advantage he suffered the lady to win thegame. The dowager was satisfied nothing could be done with the colonel. 

Chapter X. 

The first carriages that rolled over the lawn to Bolton parsonage, on thesucceeding day, were those of the baronet and his sister; the latter inadvance. 

"There, Francis, " cried Emily, who was impatiently waiting for him toremove some slight obstruction to her alighting, "thank you, thank you;that will do. "

In the next moment she was in the extended arms of Clara. After pressingeach other to their bosoms for a few moments in silence, Emily looked up, with a tear glistening in her eye, and first noticed the form of Denbigh, who was modestly withdrawing, as if unwilling to intrude on such pure anddomestic feelings as the sisters were betraying, unconscious of thepresence of a witness. Mrs. Wilson and Jane, followed by Miss Chatterton, now entered, and cordial salutes and greetings flowed upon Clara from hervarious friends. 

The baronet's coach reached the door; it contained himself and wife, Mr. Benfield, and Lady Chatterton. Clara stood on the portico of the building, ready to receive them; her face all smiles, and tears, and blushes, andher arm locked in that of Emily. 

"I wish you joy of your new abode, Mrs. Francis. " Lady Moseley forgot herform, and bursting into tears, she pressed her daughter with ardor to herbosom. 

"Clara, my love!" said the baronet, hastily wiping his eyes, andsucceeding his wife in the embrace of their child. He kissed her, and, pressing Francis by the hand, walked into the house in silence. 

"Well, well, " cried the dowager, as she saluted her cousin, "all lookscomfortable and genteel here, upon my word, Mrs. Ives: grapery--hot-houses--everything in good style too; and Sir Edward tells me theliving is worth a good five hundred a year. "

"So, girl, I suppose you expect a kiss, " said Mr. Benfield who ascendedthe steps slowly, and with difficulty. "Kissing has gone much out offashion lately. I remember, on the marriage of my friend, Lord Gosford, inthe year fifty-eight, that all the maids and attendants were properlysaluted in order. The lady Juliana was quite young then; not more thanfifteen: it was there I got my first salute from her--but--so--kiss me. "After which he continued, as they went into the house, "Marrying in thatday was a serious business. You might visit a lady a dozen times beforeyou could get a sight of her naked hand. Who's that?" stopping short, andlooking earnestly at Denbigh, who now approached them. 

"Mr. Denbigh, sir, " said Clara, "my uncle, Mr. Benfield. "

"Did you ever know, sir, a gentleman of your name, who sat in theparliament of this realm in the year sixty?" Mr. Benfield abruptly asked, as soon as the civilities of the introduction were exchanged. "You don'tlook much like him. "

"That was rather before my day, sir, " said Denbigh, with a smile, respectfully offering-to relieve Clara, who supported him on one side, while Emily held his arm on the other. 

The old gentleman was particularly averse to strangers, and Emily was interror lest he should say something rude; but, after examining Denbighagain from head to foot, he took the offered arm, and coolly replied--

"True; very true; that was sixty years ago; you can hardly recollect aslong. Ah! Mr. Denbigh, times are sadly altered since my youth. People whowere then glad to ride on a pillion now drive their coaches; men whothought ale a luxury, drink their port; aye! and those who went barefootmust have their shoes and stockings, too. Luxury, sir, and the love ofease, will ruin this mighty empire. Corruption has taken hold ofeverything; the ministry buy the members, he members buy the ministry;everything is bought and sold. Now, sir, in the parliament in which I hadthe honor of a seat, there was a knot of us, as upright as posts, sir. MyLord Gosford was one, and General Denbigh was another, although I can'tsay he was much a favorite with me. You do not look in the least like him. How was he related to you, sir?"

"He was my grandfather, " replied Denbigh, looking pleasantly at Emily, asif to tell her he understood the character of her uncle. 

Had the old man continued his speech an hour longer, Denbigh would nothave complained. They had stopped while talking, and he thus becameconfronted with the beautiful figure that supported the other arm. Denbighcontemplated in admiration the varying countenance which now blushed withapprehension, and now smiled in affection, or even with an archerexpression, as her uncle proceeded in his harangue on the times. But allfelicity in this world has an end, as well as misery. Denbigh retained therecollection of that speech long after Mr. Benfield was comfortably seatedin the parlor, though for his life he could not recollect a word he hadsaid. 

The Haughtons, the Jarvises, and a few more of their intimateacquaintances, arrived, and the parsonage had a busy air; but John, whohad undertaken to drive Grace Chatterton in his own phaeton, was yetabsent. Some little anxiety had begun to be manifested, when he appeared, dashing through the gates at a great rate, and with the skill of a memberof the four-in-hand. 

Lady Chatterton had begun to be seriously uneasy, and she was about tospeak to her son to go in quest of them, as they came in sight; but nowher fears vanished, and she could only suppose that a desire to have Gracealone could keep one who bad the reputation of a Jehu so much behind therest of the party. She met them in great spirits, crying, "Upon my word, Mr. Moseley, I began to think you had taken the road toScotland, you stayed so long. "

"Your daughter, my Lady Chatterton, " said John, pithily, "would go toScotland neither with me nor any other man, or I am greatly deceived inher character. Glara, my sister, how do you do?" He saluted the bride withgreat warmth and affection. 

"But what detained you, Moseley?" inquired the mother. 

"One of the horses was restive, and he broke the harness. We merelystopped in the village while it was mended. "

"And how did Grace behave?" asked Emily, laughing. 

"Oh, a thousand times better than you would, sister; as she always does, and like an angel. "

The only point in dispute between Emily and her brother was her want offaith in his driving; while poor Grace, naturally timid, and unwilling tooppose any one, particularly the gentleman who then held the reins, hadgoverned herself sufficiently to be silent and motionless. Indeed, shecould hardly do otherwise had she wished it, so great was his impetuosityof character; and John felt flattered to a degree of which he was himselfunconscious. Self-complacency, aided by the merit, the beauty, and thedelicacy of the young lady herself, might have led to the very results hermother so anxiously wished to produce, had that mother been satisfied withletting things take their course. But managers very generally overdo theirwork. 

"Grace _is_ a good girl, " said her gratified mother; "and you found hervery valiant, Mr. Moseley?"

"Oh, as brave as Cæsar, " answered John, carelessly, in a way that was notquite free from irony. 

Grace, whose burning cheek showed but too plainly that praise from JohnMoseley was an incense too powerful for her resistance, now sank backbehind some of the company, endeavoring to conceal the tears that almostgushed from her eyes. Denbigh was a silent spectator of the whole scene, and he now considerately observed, that he had lately seen an improvementwhich would obviate the difficulty Mr. Moseley had experienced. Johnturned to the speaker, and they were soon engaged in the discussion ofcurbs and buckles, when the tilbury of Colonel Egerton drove to the door, containing himself and his friend the captain. 

The bride undoubtedly received congratulations that day more sincere thanthose which were now offered, but none were delivered in a more gracefuland insinuating manner than the compliments which fell from ColonelEgerton. He passed round the room, speaking to his acquaintances, until hearrived at the chair of Jane, who was seated next her aunt. Here hestopped, and glancing his eye round, and saluting with bows and smiles theremainder of the party, he appeared fixed at the centre of all attraction. 

"There is a gentleman I think I have never seen before, " he observed, toMrs. Wilson, casting his eyes on Denbigh, whose back was towards him indiscourse with Mr. Benfield. 

"It is Mr. Denbigh, of whom you heard us speak, " replied Mrs. Wilson. While she spoke, Denbigh faced them. Egerton started as he caught a viewof his face, and seemed to gaze on the countenance which was open to hisinspection with an earnestness that showed an interest of some kind, butof a nature that was inexplicable to Mrs. Wilson, who was the onlyobserver of this singular recognition; for such it evidently was. All wasnow natural in the colonel for the moment; his color sensibly changed, andthere was an expression of doubt in his face. It might be fear, it mightbe horror, it might be a strong aversion; it clearly was not love. Emilysat by her aunt, and Denbigh approached them, making a cheerful remark. Itwas impossible for the colonel to avoid him had he wished it, and he kepthis ground. Mrs. Wilson thought she would try the experiment of anintroduction. 

"Colonel Egerton--Mr. Denbigh. "

Both gentlemen bowed, but nothing striking was seen in the deportment ofeither. The colonel, who was not exactly at ease, said hastily--

"Mr. Denbigh is, or has been in the army, I believe. "

Denbigh was now taken by surprise in his turn: he cast a look on Egertonof fixed and settled meaning; then carelessly observed, but still as ifrequiring an answer:

"I am yet; but I do not recollect having had the pleasure of meeting withColonel Egerton on service. "

"Your countenance is familiar, sir, " replied the colonel, coldly; "but atthis moment I cannot tax my memory with the place of-our meeting, thoughone sees so many strange faces in a campaign, that they come and go likeshadows. "

He then changed the conversation. It was some time, however, before eithergentleman entirely recovered his ease--and many days elapsed ere anythinglike intercourse passed between them. The colonel attached himself duringthis visit to Jane, with occasional notices of the Misses Jarvis, whobegan to manifest symptoms of uneasiness at the decided preference heshowed to a lady they now chose to look upon, in some measure, as a rival. 

Mrs. Wilson and her charge, on the other hand, were entertained by theconversation of Chatterton and Denbigh, relieved by occasional salliesfrom the lively John. There was something in the person and manners ofDenbigh that insensibly attracted those whom chance threw in his way. Hisface was not strikingly handsome, but it was noble; and when he smiled, orwas much animated, it invariably communicated a spark of his ownenthusiasm to the beholder. His figure was faultless; his air and manner, if less easy than those of Colonel Egerton, were more sincere andingenuous; his breeding was clearly higher; his respect for others ratherbordering on the old school. But in his voice there existed a charm whichwould make him, when he spoke, to a female ear, almost resistless: it wassoft, deep, melodious, and winning. 

"Baronet, " said the rector, looking with a smile towards his son anddaughter, "I love to see my children happy, and Mrs. Ives threatens adivorce if I go on in the manner I have commenced. She says I desert herfor Bolton. "

"Why, doctor, if our wives conspire against us, and prevent our enjoying acomfortable dish of tea with Clara, or a glass of wine with Frank, we mustcall in the higher authorities as umpires. What say you, sister? Is aparent to desert his child in any case?"

"My opinion is, " said Mrs. Wilson, with a smile, yet speaking withemphasis, "that a parent is _not_ to desert a child, in any case or in anymanner. "

"Do you hear that, my Lady Moseley?" cried the good-humored baronet. 

"Do you hear that, my Lady Chatterton?" echoed John, who had just taken aseat by Grace, when her mother approached them. 

"I hear it, but do not see the application, Mr. Moseley. "

"No, my lady! Why, there is the honorable Miss Chatterton almost dying toplay a game of her favorite chess with Mr. Denbigh. She has beaten us allbut him, and her triumph will not be complete until she has him too at herfeet. "

And as Denbigh politely offered to meet the challenge, the board wasproduced, and the parties were seated. Lady Chatterton stood leaning overher daughter's chair, with a view, however, to prevent any of thoseconsequences she was generally fond of seeing result from this amusement;every measure taken by this prudent mother being literally governed byjudicious calculation. 

"Umph, " thought John, as he viewed the players, while listening withpleasure to the opinions of Grace, who had recovered her composure andspirits; "Kate, after all, has played one game without using her feet. "

Chapter XI. 

Ten days or a fortnight flew swiftly by, during which Mrs. Wilson sufferedEmily to give Clara a week, having first ascertained that Denbigh was asettled resident at the rectory, and thereby not likely to be oftener atthe House of Francis than at the hall, where he was a frequent and welcomeguest, both oh his own account and as a friend of Doctor Ives. Emily hadreturned, and she brought the bride and groom with her; when one eveningas they were pleasantly seated at their various amusements, with the easeof old acquaintances, Mr. Haughton entered. It was at an hour ratherunusual for his visits; and throwing down his hat, after making the usualinquiries, he began without preface--

"I know, good people, you are all wondering what has brought me out thistime of night, but the truth is, Lucy has coaxed her mother to persuade meinto a ball in honor of the times; so, my lady, I have consented, and mywife and daughter have been buying up all the finery in B----, by the way, I suppose, of anticipating their friends. There is a regiment of foot comeinto barracks within fifteen miles of us, and to-morrow I must beat up forrecruits among the officers--girls are never wanting on such occasions. "

"Why, " cried the baronet, "you are growing young again, my friend. "

"No, Sir Edward, but my daughter is young, and life has so many cares thatI am willing she should get rid of as many as she can at my expense. "

"Surely you would not wish her to dance them away, " said Mrs. Wilson;"such relief I am afraid will prove temporary. "

"Do you disapprove of dancing, ma'am?" said Mr. Haughton, who held heropinions in great respect as well as a little dread. 

"I neither approve nor disapprove of it--jumping up and down is innocentenough in itself, and if it must be done it is well it were donegracefully; as for the accompaniments of dancing I say nothing--what doyou say, Doctor Ives?"

"To what, my dear madam?"

"To dancing. "

"Oh let the girls dance if they enjoy it. "

"I am glad you think so, doctor, " cried the delighted Mr. Haughton; I wasafraid I recollected your advising your son never to dance nor to play atgames of chance. "

"You thought right, my friend, " said the doctor, laying down hisnewspaper; "I did give that advice to Frank, whom you will please toremember is now rector of Bolton. I do not object to dancing as notinnocent in itself or as an elegant exercise; but it is like drinking, generally carried to excess: now as a Christian I am opposed to allexcesses; the music and company lead to intemperance in the recreation, and they often induce neglect of duties--but so may anything else. "

"I like a game of whist, doctor, greatly, " said Mr. Haughton; "butobserving that you never play, and recollecting your advice to Mr. Francis, I have forbidden cards when you are my guest"

"I thank you for the compliment, good sir, " replied the doctor, with asmile; "still I would much rather see you play cards than hear you talkscandal, as you sometimes do. "

"Scandal!" echoed Mr. Haughton. 

"Ay, scandal, " said the doctor, coolly, "such as the remark you made thelast time, which was only yesterday, I called to see you. You accused SirEdward of being wrong in letting that poacher off so easily; the baronet, you said, did not shoot himself, and did not know how to prize game as heought. "

"Scandal, Doctor--do you call that scandal? why I told Sir Edward sohimself, two or three times. "

"I know you did, and that was rude. "

"Rude! I hope sincerely Sir Edward has put no such construction on it?"

The baronet smiled kindly, and shook his head. 

"Because the baronet chooses to forgive your offences, it does not altertheir nature, " said the doctor, gravely: "no, you must repent and amend;you impeached his motives for doing a benevolent act, and that I callscandal. "

"Why, doctor, I was angry the fellow should be let loose; he is a pest toall the game in the county, and every sportsman will tell you so--here, Mr. Moseley, you know Jackson, the poacher. "

"Oh! a poacher is an intolerable wretch!" cried Captain Jarvis. 

"Oh! a poacher, " echoed John, looking drolly at Emily, "hang allpoachers. "

"Poacher or no poacher, does not alter the scandal, " said the doctor; "nowlet me tell you, good sir, I would rather play at fifty games of whistthan make one such speech, unless indeed it interfered with my duties;now, sir, with your leave I'll explain myself as to my son. There is anartificial levity about dancing that adds to the dignity of no man: fromsome it may detract: a clergyman for instance is supposed to have otherthings to do, and it might hurt him in the opinions of those with whom hisinfluence is necessary, and impair his usefulness; therefore a clergymanshould never dance. In the same way with cards; they are the commoninstruments of gambling, and an odium is attached to them on that account;women and clergymen must respect the prejudices of mankind in some cases, or lose their influence in society. "

"I did hope to have the pleasure of your company, doctor, said Mr. Haughton, hesitatingly. 

"And if it will give you pleasure, " cried the rector, "you shall have itwith all my heart, good sir; it would be a greater evil to wound thefeelings of such a neighbor as Mr. Haughton, than to show my face once ata ball, " and rising, he laid his hand on the shoulder of the other kindly. "Both your scandal and rudeness are easily forgiven; but I wished to showyou the common error of the world which has attached odium to certainthings, while it charitably overlooks others of a more heinous nature. "

Mr. Haughton, who had at first been a little staggered with the attack ofthe doctor, recovered himself, and laying a handful of notes on the table, hoped he should have the pleasure of seeing every body. The invitation wasgenerally accepted, and the worthy man departed, happy if his friends didbut come, and were pleased. 

"Do you dance, Miss Moseley?" inquired Denbigh of Emily, as he satwatching her graceful movements in netting a purse for her father. 

"Oh, yes! the doctor said nothing of us girls, you know I suppose hethinks we have no dignity to lose. "

"Admonitions are generally thrown away on young ladies when pleasure is inthe question, " said the doctor, with a look of almost paternal affection. 

"I hope you do not seriously disapprove of it in moderation, " said Mrs. Wilson. 

"That depends, madam, upon circumstances; if it is to be made subsidiaryto envy, malice, coquetry, vanity, or any other such little lady-likeaccomplishment, it certainly had better be let alone. But in moderation, and with the feelings of my little pet here, I should be cynical, indeed, to object. "

Denbigh appeared lost in his own ruminations during this dialogue; and asthe doctor ended, he turned to the captain, who was overlooking a game ofchess between the colonel and Jane, of which the latter had becomeremarkably fond of late, playing with her hands and eyes instead of herfeet--and inquired the name of the corps in barracks at F----. 

"The ----th foot, sir, " replied the captain, haughtily, who neitherrespected him, owing to his want of consequence, nor loved him, from themanner in which Emily listened to his conversation. 

"Will Miss Moseley forgive a bold request, " said Denbigh, with somehesitation. 

Emily looked up from her work in silence, but with some little flutteringsat the heart. 

"The honor of her hand for the first dance, " continued Denbigh, observingshe was in expectation that he would proceed. 

Emily laughingly said, "Certainly, Mr. Denbigh, if you can submit to thedegradation. "

The London papers now came in, and most of the gentlemen sat down to theirperusal. The colonel, however, replaced the men for a second game, andDenbigh still kept his place beside Mrs. Wilson and her niece. Themanners, the sentiments, the whole exterior of this gentleman were such asboth the taste and judgment of the aunt approved of; his qualities werethose which insensibly gained on the heart, and yet Mrs. Wilson noticed, with a slight uneasiness, the very evident satisfaction her niece took inhis society. In Dr. Ives she had great confidence, yet Dr. Ives was afriend, and probably judged him favorably; and again, Dr. Ives was not tosuppose he was introducing a candidate for the hand of Emily in everygentleman he brought to the hall. Mrs. Wilson had seen too often the illconsequences of trusting to impressions received from inferences ofcompanionship, not to know the only safe way was to judge for ourselves:the opinions of others might be partial--might be prejudiced--and many animproper connexion had been formed by listening to the sentiments of thosewho spoke without interest, and consequently without examination. Not afew matches are made by this idle commendation of others, uttered by thosewho are respected, and which are probably suggested more by a desire toplease than by reflection or even knowledge. In short Mrs. Wilson knewthat as our happiness chiefly interests ourselves, so it was to ourselves, or to those few whose interest was equal to our own, we could only trustthose important inquiries necessary to establish a permanent opinion ofcharacter. With Doctor Ives her communications on subjects of duty werefrequent and confiding, and although she sometimes thought his benevolencedisposed him to be rather too lenient to the faults of mankind, sheentertained a profound respect for his judgment. It had great influencewith her, if it were not always conclusive; she determined, therefore, tohave an early conversation with him on the subject so near her heart, andbe in a great measure regulated by his answers in the steps to beimmediately taken. Every day gave her what he thought melancholy proof ofthe ill consequences of neglecting a duty, in the increasing intimacy ofColonel Egerton and Jane. 

"Here, aunt, " cried John, as he ran over a paper, "is a paragraph relatingto your favorite youth, our trusty and well beloved cousin the Earl ofPendennyss. "

"Read it, " said Mrs. Wilson, with an interest his name never failed toexcite. 

"We noticed to-day the equipage of the gallant Lord Pendennyss before thegates of Annandale-house, and understand the noble earl is last fromBolton castle, Northamptonshire. "

"A very important fact, " said Captain Jarvis, sarcastically; "ColonelEgerton and myself got as far as the village, to pay our respects to him, when we heard he had gone on to town. "

"The earl's character, both as a man and a soldier, " observed the colonel, "gives him a claim to our attentions that his rank would not: on thataccount we would have called. "

"Brother, " said Mrs. Wilson, "you would oblige me greatly by asking hislordship to waive ceremony; his visits to Bolton castle will probably befrequent, now we have peace; and the owner is so much from home that wemay never see him without some such invitation. "

"Do you want him as a husband for Emily?" cried John, as he gaily seatedhimself by the side of his sister. 

Mrs. Wilson smiled at an observation which reminded her of one of herromantic wishes; and as she raised her head to reply in the same tone, metthe eye of Denbigh fixed on her with an expression that kept her silent. This is really an incomprehensible young man in some respects, thought thecautious widow, his startling looks on the introduction to the colonelcrossing her mind at the same time; and observing the doctor opening thedoor that led to the baronet's library, Mrs. Wilson, who generally actedas soon as she had decided, followed him. As their conversations wereknown often to relate to the little offices of charity in which they bothdelighted, the movement excited no surprise, and she entered the librarywith the doctor uninterrupted. 

"Doctor, " said Mrs. Wilson, impatient to proceed to the point, "you knowmy maxim, prevention is better than cure, This young friend of yours isvery interesting. "

"Do you feel yourself in danger?" said the rector, smiling. 

"Not very imminent, " replied the lady, laughing good-naturedly. Seatingherself, she continued, "Who is he? and who was his father, if I may ask?"

"George Denbigh, madam, both father and son, " said the doctor, gravely. 

"Ah, doctor, I am almost tempted to wish Frank had been a girl. You knowwhat I wish to learn. "

"Put your questions in order, dear madam, " said the doctor, in a kindmanner, "and they shall be answered. "

"His principles?"

"So far as I can learn, they are good. His acts, as they have come to mynotice, are highly meritorious, and I hope they originated in propermotives. I have seen but little of him of late years, however, and on thishead you are nearly as good a judge as myself. His filial piety, " said thedoctor, dashing a tear from his eye, and speaking with fervor, "waslovely. "

"His temper--his disposition?"

"His temper is under great command, although naturally ardent; hisdisposition eminently benevolent towards his fellow-creatures. "

"His connexions?"

"Suitable, " said the doctor, gravely. 

His fortune was of but little moment. Emily would be amply provided, forall the customary necessaries of her station; and, thanking the divine, Mrs. Wilson returned to the parlor, easy in mind, and determined to letthings take their own course for a time, but in no degree to relax thevigilance of her observation. 

On her return to the room, Mrs. Wilson observed Denbigh approach Egerton, and enter into conversation of a general nature. It was the first timeanything more than unavoidable courtesies had passed between them. Thecolonel appeared slightly uneasy under his novel situation, while, on theother hand, his companion showed an anxiety to be on a more friendlyfooting than heretofore. There was something mysterious in the feelingsmanifested by both these gentlemen that greatly puzzled the good lady; andfrom its complexion, she feared one or the other was not entirely freefrom censure. It could not have been a quarrel, or their names would havebeen familiar, to each other. They had both served in Spain, she knew, andexcesses were often committed by gentlemen at a distance from home theirpride would have prevented where they were anxious to maintain acharacter. Gambling, and a few other prominent vices, floated through herimagination, until, wearied of conjectures where she had no data, andsupposing, after all, it might be only her imagination, the turned to morepleasant reflections. 

Chapter XII. 

The bright eyes of Emily Moseley unconsciously wandered round thebrilliant assemblage at Mr. Haughton's, as she took her seat, in search ofher partner. The rooms were filled with scarlet coats, and belles from thelittle town of F----; and if the company were not the most selectimaginable, it was disposed to enjoy the passing moment cheerfully and inlightness of heart. Ere, however, she could make out to scan thecountenances of the men, young Jarvis, decked in the full robes of hisdignity, as captain in the ----th foot, approached and solicited the honorof her hand. The colonel had already secured her sister, and it was by theinstigation of his friend, Jarvis had been thus early in his application. Emily thanked him, and pleaded her engagement. The mortified youth, whohad thought dancing with the ladies a favor conferred on them, from theanxiety his sister always manifested to get partners, stood for a fewmoments in sullen silence; and then, as if to be revenged on the sex, hedetermined not to dance the whole evening. Accordingly, he withdrew to aroom appropriated to the gentlemen, where he found a few of the militarybeaux, keeping alive the stimulus they had brought with them from themess-table. 

Clara had prudently decided to comport herself as became a clergyman'swife, and she declined dancing altogether. Catherine Chatterton wasentitled to open the ball, as superior in years and rank to any who weredisposed to enjoy the amusement. The dowager, who in her heart loved toshow her airs upon such occasions, had chosen to be later than the restof the family; and Lucy had to entreat her father to have patience morethan once during the interregnum in their sports created by LadyChatterton's fashion. This lady at length appeared, attended by her son, and followed by her daughters, ornamented in all the taste of the reigningfashions Doctor Ives and his wife, who came late from choice, soonappeared, accompanied by their guest, and the dancing commenced, Denbighhad thrown aside his black for the evening, and as he approached to claimher promised hand, Emily thought him, if not as handsome, much moreinteresting than Colonel Egerton, who just then passed them while leadingher sister to the set. Emily danced beautifully, but perfectly like alady, as did Jane; but Denbigh, although graceful in his movements and intime, knew but little of the art; and but for the assistance of hispartner, he would have more than once gone wrong in the figure. He verygravely asked her opinion of his performance as he handed her to a chair, and she laughingly told him his movements were but a better sort of march. He was about to reply, when Jarvis approached. By the aid of a pint ofwine and his own reflections, the youth wrought himself into something ofa passion, especially as he saw Denbigh enter, after Emily had declineddancing with himself. There was a gentleman in the corps who unfortunatelywas addicted to the bottle, and he had fastened on Jarvis as a man atleisure to keep him company. Wine openeth the heart, and the captainhaving taken a peep at the dancers, and seen the disposition of affairs, returned to his bottle companion, bursting with the indignity offered tohis person. He dropped a hint, and a question or two brought the wholegrievance forth. 

There is a certain set of men in every service who imbibe extravagantnotions that are revolting to humanity, and which too often prove to befatal in their results. Their morals are never correct, and the littlethey have set loosely about them. In their own cases, their appeals toarms are not always so prompt; but in that of their friends, theirperceptions of honor are intuitively keen, and their inflexibility inpreserving it from reproach unbending; and such is the weakness ofmankind, their "tenderness on points where the nicer feelings of a soldierare involved, that these machines of custom, these thermometers graduatedto the scale of false honor, usurp the place of reason and benevolence, and become too often the arbiters of life and death to a whole corps. Such, then, was the confidant to whom Jarvis communicated the cause of hisdisgust, and the consequences may easily be imagined. As he passed Emilyand Denbigh, he threw a look of fierceness at the latter, which he meantas an indication of his hostile intentions. It was lost on his rival, whoat that moment was filled with passions of a very different kind fromthose which Captain Jarvis thought agitated his own bosom; for had his newfriend let him alone, the captain would have gone quietly home and gone tosleep. 

"Have you ever fought?" said Captain Digby coolly to his companion, asthey seated themselves in his father's parlor, whither they had retired tomake their arrangements for the following morning. 

"Yes, " said Jarvis, with a stupid look, "I fought once with Tom Hallidayat school. "

"At school! My dear friend, you commenced young indeed, " said Digby, helping himself to another glass. "And how did it end?"

"Oh! Tom got the better, and so I cried enough, " said Jarvis, surlily. 

"Enough! I hope you did not flinch, " eyeing him keenly "Where were youhit?"

"He hit me all over. "

"All over! The d---l! Did you use small shot? How did you fight?"

"With fists, " said Jarvis, yawning. 

His companion, seeing how matters were, rang for his servant to put him tobed, remaining himself an hour longer to finish the bottle. 

Soon after Jarvis had given Denbigh the look big with his intendedvengeance, Colonel Egerton approached Emily, asking permission to presentSir Herbert Nicholson, the lieutenant-colonel of the regiment, and agentleman who was ambitious of the honor of her acquaintance; a particularfriend of his own. Emily gracefully bowed her assent. Soon after, turningher eyes on Denbigh, who had been speaking to her at the moment, she sawhim looking intently on the two soldiers, who were making their waythrough the crowd to the place where she sat. He stammered, said somethingshe could not understand, and precipitately withdrew; and although bothshe and her aunt sought his figure in the gay throng that flitted aroundthem, he was seen no more that evening. 

"Are you acquainted with Mr. Denbigh?" said Emily to her partner, afterlooking in vain to find his person in the crowd. 

"Denbigh! Denbigh! I have known one or two of that name" replied thegentleman. "In the army there are several. "

"Yes, " said Emily, musing, "he is in the army;" and looking up, she sawher companion reading her countenance with an expression that brought thecolor to her cheeks with a glow that was painful. Sir Herbert smiled, andobserved that the room was warm. Emily acquiesced in the remark, for thefirst time in her life conscious of a feeling she was ashamed to havescrutinized, and glad of any excuse to hide her confusion. 

"Grace Chatterton is really beautiful to-night, " whispered John Moseleyto his sister Clara. "I have a mind to ask her to dance. "

"Do, John. " replied his sister, looking with pleasure on her beautifulcousin, who, observing the movements of John as he drew near where shesat, moved her face on each side rapidly, in search of some one who wasapparently not to be found. Her breathing became sensibly quicker, andJohn was on the point of speaking to her as the dowager stepped in betweenthem. There is nothing so flattering to the vanity of a man as thediscovery of emotions in a young woman excited by himself, and which theparty evidently wishes to conceal; there is nothing so touching, so sureto captivate; or, if it seem to be affected, so sure to disgust. 

"Now, Mr. Moseley, " cried the mother, "you shall not ask Grace to dance!She can refuse you nothing, and she has been up the last two figures. "

"Your wishes are irresistible, Lady Chatterton, " said John, coolly turningon his heel. On gaining the other side of the room, he turned toreconnoitre the scene. The dowager was fanning herself as violently as if_she_ had been up the last two figures instead of her daughter, whileGrace sat with her eyes fastened on the floor, paler than usual. "Grace, "thought the young man, "would be very handsome--very sweet--very--veryeverything that is agreeable, if--if it were not for Mother Chatterton. "He then led out one of the prettiest girls in the room. 

Col. Egerton was peculiarly fitted to shine in a ball room. He dancedgracefully and with spirit; was perfectly at home with all the usages ofthe best society, and was never neglectful of any of those littlecourtesies which have their charm for the moment; and Jane Moseley, whosaw all those she loved around her, apparently as happy as herself, foundin her judgment or the convictions of her principles, no counterpoiseagainst the weight of such attractions, all centred as it were in oneeffort to please herself. His flattery was deep for it was respectful--histastes were her tastes--his opinions her opinions. On the formation oftheir acquaintance they differed on some trifling point of poeticalcriticism, and for near a month the colonel had maintained his opinionwith a show of firmness; but opportunities not wanting for the discussion, he had felt constrained to yield to her better judgment, her purer taste. The conquest of Colonel Egerton was complete, and Jane who saw in hisattentions the submission of a devoted heart, began to look forward to themoment with trembling that was to remove the thin barrier that existedbetween the adulation of the eyes and the most delicate assiduity toplease, and the open confidence of declared love. Jane Moseley had a heartto love, and to love strongly; her danger existed in her imagination: itwas brilliant, unchastened by her judgment, we had almost said unfetteredby her principles. Principles such as are found in every-day maxims andrules of conduct sufficient to restrain her within the bounds of perfectdecorum she was furnished with in abundance; but to that principle whichwas to teach her submission in opposition to her wishes, to that principlethat could alone afford her security against the treachery of her ownpassions, she was an utter stranger. 

The family of Sir Edward were, among the first to retire, and as theChattertons had their own carriage, Mrs. Wilson and her charge returnedalone in the coach of the former. Emily, who had been rather out ofspirits the latter-part of the evening, broke the silence by suddenlyobserving, "Colonel Egerton is, or soon will be, a perfect hero!"

Her aunt somewhat surprised, both with the abruptness and with thestrength of the remark, inquired her meaning. 

"Oh, Jane will make him one, whether or not. "

This was spoken with an air of vexation which she was unused to, and Mrs. Wilson gravely corrected her for speaking in a disrespectful manner of hersister, one whom neither her years nor-situation entitled her in anymeasure to advise or control. There was an impropriety in judging so nearand dear a relation harshly, even in thought. Emily pressed the hand ofher aunt and tremulously acknowledged her error; but she added, that shefelt a momentary irritation at the idea of a man of Colonel Egerton'scharacter gaining the command over feelings such as her sister possessed. Mrs. Wilson kissed the cheek of her niece, while she inwardly acknowledgedthe probable truth of the very remark she had thought it her duty tocensure. That the imagination of Jane would supply her lover with thosequalities she most honored herself, she believed was taken as a matter ofcourse; and that when the veil she had helped to throw before her own eyeswas removed, she would cease to respect, and of course cease to love him, when too late to remedy the evil, she greatly feared. But in theapproaching fate of Jane she saw new cause to call forth her own activity. 

Emily Moseley had just completed her eighteenth year, and was gifted bynature with a vivacity and ardency of feeling that gave a heightened zestto the enjoyments of that happy age. She was artless but intelligent;cheerful, with a deep conviction of the necessity of piety; and uniform inher practice of all the important duties. The unwearied exertions of heraunt, aided by her own quickness of perception, had made her familiar withthe attainments suitable to her sex and years. For music she had no taste, and the time which would have been thrown away in endeavoring to cultivatea talent she did not possess, was dedicated under the discreet guidance ofher aunt, to works which had a tendency both to qualify her for theduties of this life, and fit her for that which comes hereafter. It mightbe said Emily Moseley had never read a book that contained a sentiment orinculcated an opinion improper for her sex or dangerous to her morals; andit was not difficult for those who knew the fact, to fancy they couldperceive the consequences in her guileless countenance and innocentdeportment. Her looks--her actions--her thoughts, wore as much of natureas the discipline of her well-regulated mind and softened manners couldadmit. In person she was of the middle size, exquisitely formed, gracefuland elastic in her step, without, however, the least departure from hernatural movements; her eye was a dark blue, with an expression of joy andintelligence; at times it seemed all soul, and again all heart; her colorwas rather high, but it varied with every emotion of her bosom; herfeelings were strong, ardent, and devoted to those she loved. Herpreceptress had never found it necessary to repeat an admonition of anykind, since her arrival at years to discriminate between the right and thewrong. 

"I wish, " said Doctor Ives to his wife, the evening his son had askedtheir permission to address Clara, "Francis had chosen my little Emily. "

"Clara is a good girl, " replied his wife; "she is so mild, soaffectionate, that I doubt not she will make him happy--Frank might havedone worse at the Hall. "

"For himself he has done well, I hope, " said the father, "a young woman ofClara's heart may make any man happy but a union with purity, sense, principles, like those of Emily would be more--it would be blissful. "

Mrs. Ives smiled at her husband's animation. "You remind me more of theromantic youth I once knew than of the grave divine. There is but one manI know that I could wish to give Emily to; it is Lumley. If Lumley seesher, he will woo her; and if he wooes, he will win her. "

"And Lumley I believe to be worthy of her, " cried the rector, now takingup a candle to retire for the night. 

Chapter XIII. 

The following day brought a large party of the military _elegants_ to theHall, in acceptance of the baronet's hospitable invitation to dinner. LadyMoseley was delighted; so long as her husband's or her children's interesthad demanded a sacrifice of her love of society it had been made without asigh, almost without a thought. The ties of affinity in her were sacred;and to the happiness, the comfort of those in which she felt an interest, there were few sacrifices of her own propensities she would not cheerfullyhave made: it was this very love of her offspring that made her anxious todispose of her daughters in wedlock. Her own marriage had been so happy, that she naturally concluded it the state most likely to ensure thehappiness of her children; and with Lady Moseley, as with thousands ofothers, who averse or unequal to the labors of investigation, jump toconclusions over the long line of connecting reasons, marriage wasmarriage, a husband was a husband. It is true there were certainindispensables, without which the formation of a connexion was a thing sheconsidered not within the bounds of nature. There must be fitness infortune, in condition, in education, and manners; there must be no glaringevil, although she did not ask for positive good. A professor of religionherself, had any one told her it was a duty of her calling to guardagainst a connexion with any but a Christian for her girls, she would havewondered at the ignorance that would embarrass the married state, withfeelings exclusively belonging to the individual. Had any one told her itwere possible to give her child to any but a gentleman, she would havewondered at the want of feeling that could devote the softness of Jane orEmily, to the association with rudeness or vulgarity. It was themisfortune of Lady Moseley to limit her views of marriage to the scene ofthis life, forgetful that every union gives existence to a long line ofimmortal beings, whose future welfare depends greatly on the force ofearly examples, or the strength of early impressions. 

The necessity for restriction in their expenditures had ceased, and thebaronet and his wife greatly enjoyed the first opportunity their secludedsituation had given them, to draw around their board theirfellow-creatures of their own stamp. In the former, it was purephilanthropy; the same feeling urged him to seek out and relieve distressin humble life; while in the latter it was love of station and seemliness. It was becoming the owner of Moseley Hall, and it was what the daughtersof the Benfield family had done since the conquest. 

"I am extremely sorry, " said the good baronet at dinner, "Mr. Denbighdeclined our invitation to-day; I hope he will yet ride over in theevening. "

Looks of a singular import were exchanged between Colonel Egerton and SirHerbert Nicholson, at the mention of Denbigh's name; which, as the latterhad just asked the favor of taking wine with Mrs. Wilson, did not escapeher notice. Emily had innocently mentioned his precipitate retreat thenight before; and he had, when reminded of his engagement to dine withthem that very day, and promised an introduction to Sir Herbert Nicholsonby John, in her presence, suddenly excused himself and withdrawn. With anindefinite suspicion of something wrong, she ventured, therefore, toaddress Sir Herbert Nicholson. 

"Did you know Mr. Denbigh, in Spain?"

"I told Miss Emily Moseley, I believe, last evening, that I knew some ofthe name, " replied the gentleman evasively; then pausing a moment, headded with great emphasis, "there is a circumstance connected with _one_of that name, I shall ever remember. "

"It was creditable, no doubt, Sir Herbert, " cried young Jarvis, sarcastically. The soldier affected not to hear the question, and askedJane to take wine with him. Lord Chatterton, however, putting his knifeand fork down gravely, and with a glow of animation, observed with unusualspirit, "I have no doubt it was, sir. "

Jarvis in his turn, affected not to hear this speech, and nothing fartherwas said, as Sir Edward saw that the name of Mr. Denbigh excited asensation amongst his guests for which he was unable to account, and whichhe soon forgot himself. 

After the company had retired, Lord Chatterton, however, related to theastonished and indignant family of the baronet the substance of thefollowing scene, of which he had been a witness that morning, while on avisit to Denbigh at the rectory. They had been sitting in the parlor bythemselves, over their breakfast, when a Captain Digby was announced. 

"I have the honor of waiting upon you, Mr. Denbigh, " said the soldier, with the stiff formality of a professed duellist, "on behalf of CaptainJarvis, but will postpone my business until you are at leisure, " glancinghis eye on Chatterton. 

"I know of no business with Captain Jarvis, " said Denbigh, politelyhanding the stranger a chair, "to which Lord Chatterton cannot be privy;if he will excuse the interruption. The nobleman bowed, and Captain Digby, a little awed by the rank of Denbigh's friend, proceeded in a moremeasured manner. 

"Captain Jarvis has empowered me, sir, to make any arrangement withyourself or friend, previously to your meeting, which he hopes may be assoon as possible, if convenient to yourself, " replied the soldier, coolly. 

Denbigh viewed him for a moment with astonishment, in silence; whenrecollecting himself, he said mildly, and without the least agitation, "Icannot affect, sir, not to understand your meaning, but am at a loss toimagine what act of mine can have made Mr. Jarvis wish to make such anappeal. "

"Surely Mr. Denbigh cannot think a man of Captain Jarvis's spirit canquietly submit to the indignity put upon him last evening, by your dancingwith Miss Moseley, after she had declined the honor to himself, " said thecaptain, affecting an incredulous smile. "My Lord Chatterton and myselfcan easily settle the preliminaries, as Captain Jarvis is much disposed toconsult your wishes, sir, in this affair. "

"If he consults my wishes, " said Denbigh, smiling, "he will think no moreabout it. "

"At what time, sir, will it be convenient to give him the meeting?" then, speaking with a kind of bravado gentlemen of his cast are fond ofassuming, "my friend would not hurry any settlement of your affairs. "

"I can never meet Captain Jarvis with hostile intentions, " repliedDenbigh, calmly. 

"Sir!"

"I decline the combat, sir, " said Denbigh, with more firmness. 

"Your reasons, sir, if you please?" asked Captain Digby compressing hislips, and drawing up with an air of personal interest. 

"Surely, " cried Chatterton, who had with difficulty estrained hisfeelings, "surely Mr. Denbigh could never so far forget himself ascruelly' to expose Miss Moseley by accepting this invitation. "

"Your reason, my lord, " said Denbigh, with interest, "would at all timeshave its weight; but I wish not to qualify an act of what I conceive to beprinciple by any lesser consideration. I cannot meet Captain Jarvis, orany other man, in private combat. There can exist no necessity for anappeal to arms in any society where the laws rule, and I am averse tobloodshed. "

"Very extraordinary, " muttered Captain Digby, somewhat at a loss how toact; but the calm and collected manner of Denbigh prevented a reply; andafter declining a cup of tea, a liquor he never drank, he withdrew, sayinghe would acquaint his friend with Mr. Denbigh's singular notions. 

Captain Digby had left Jarvis at an inn, about half a mile from therectory, for the convenience of receiving early information of the resultof his conference. The young man had walked up and down the room duringDigby's absence, in a train of reflections entirely new to him. He was theonly son of his aged father and mother, the protector of his sisters, and, he might say, the sole hope of a rising family; and then, possibly, Denbigh might not have meant to offend him--he might even have beenengaged before they came to the house; or if not, it might have beeninadvertence on the part of Miss Moseley. That Denbigh would offer someexplanation he believed, and he had fully made up his mind to accept it, let it be what it might, as his fighting friend entered. 

"Well, " said Jarvis, in a tone that denoted anything but a consciousnessthat all _was_ well. 

"He says he will not meet you, " dryly exclaimed his friend, throwinghimself into a chair, and ordering a glass of randy and water. 

"Not meet me!" exclaimed Jarvis, in surprise. "Engaged, perhaps?"

"Engaged to his d--d conscience. "

"To his conscience! I do not know whether I rightly understand you, Captain Digby, " said Jarvis, catching his breath, and raising his voice avery little. 

"Then, Captain Jarvis, " said his friend, tossing off his brandy, andspeaking with great deliberation, "he says that nothing--understandme--_nothing_ will ever make him fight a duel. "

"He will not!" cried Jarvis, in a loud voice. 

"No, he will not, " said Digby, handing his glass to the waiter for a freshsupply. 

"He shall, by----!"

"I don't know how you will make him. "

"Make him! I'll--I'll post him. "

"Never do that, " said the captain, turning to him, as he leaned his elbowson the table. "It only makes both parties ridiculous. But I'll tell youwhat you may do. There's a Lord Chatterton who takes the matter up withwarmth. If I were not afraid of his interests hurting my promotion, Ishould have resented something that fell from him myself. He will fight, Idare say, and I'll just return and require an explanation of his words onyour behalf. "

"No, no, " said Jarvis, rather hastily; "he--_he_ is related to theMoseleys, and I have views there it might injure. "

"Did you think to forward your views by making the young lady the subjectof a duel?" asked Captain Digby sarcastically, and eyeing his companionwith contempt. 

"Yes, yes, " said Jarvis; "it would certainly hurt my views. "

"Here's to the health of His Majesty's gallant ---- regiment of foot!"cried Captain Digby, in a tone of irony, when three-quarters drunk, at themess-table, that evening, "and to its champion, Captain Henry Jarvis!"

One of the corps was present accidentally as a guest; and the followingweek, the inhabitants of F---- saw the regiment in their barracks, marching to slow time after the body of Horace Digby. 

Lord Chatterton, in relating the part of the foregoing circumstances whichfell under his observation, did ample justice to the conduct of Denbigh; adegree of liberality which did him no little credit, as he plainly saw inthat gentleman he had, or soon would have, a rival in the dearest wish ofhis heart; and the smiling approbation with which his cousin Emilyrewarded him for his candor almost sickened him with apprehension. Theladies were not slow in expressing their disgust at the conduct of Jarvis, or backward in their approval of Denbigh's forbearance. Lady Moseleyturned with horror from a picture in which she could see nothing butmurder and bloodshed; but both Mrs. Wilson and her niece secretlyapplauded a sacrifice of worldly feelings on the altar of duty; the formeradmiring the consistent refusal of admitting any collateral inducements, in explanation of his decision: the latter, while she saw the act in itstrue colors, could hardly help believing that a regard for _her_ feelingshad, in a trifling degree, its influence in inducing him to decline themeeting. Mrs. Wilson saw at once what a hold such unusual conduct wouldtake on the feelings of her niece, and inwardly determined to increase, ifpossible, the watchfulness she had invariably observed on all he said ordid, as likely to elucidate his real character, well knowing that therequisites to bring or to keep happiness in the married state werenumerous and indispensable; and that the display of a particularexcellence, however good in itself, was by no means conclusive as tocharacter; in short, that we perhaps as often meet with a favoriteprinciple as with a besetting sin. 

Chapter XIV. 

Sir Edward Moseley had some difficulty in restraining the impetuosity ofhis son, who was disposed to resent this impertinent interference of youngJarvis with the conduct of his favorite sister; indeed, the young man onlyyielded to his profound respect to his father's commands, aided by astrong representation on the part of his sister of the disagreeableconsequences of connecting her name with such a quarrel. It was seldom thegood baronet felt himself called on to act as decidedly as on the presentoccasion. He spoke to the merchant in warm, but gentleman-like terms, ofthe consequences which might have resulted to his own child from theintemperate act of his son; exculpated Emily entirely from censure, byexplaining her engagement to dance with Denbigh, previously to CaptainJarvis's application; and hinted the necessity, if the affair was notamicably terminated, of protecting the peace of mind of his daughtersagainst any similar exposures, by declining the acquaintance of a neighborhe respected as much as Mr. Jarvis. 

The merchant was a man of few words, but of great promptitude. He had madehis fortune, and more than once saved it, by his decision; and assuringthe baronet he should hear no more of it, he took his hat and hurried homefrom the village, where the conversation passed. On arriving at his ownhouse, he found the family collected in the parlor for a morning ride, andthrowing himself into a chair, he broke out on the whole party with greatviolence. 

"So, Mrs. Jarvis, " he cried, "you _would_ spoil a very tolerablebook-keeper, by wishing to have a soldier in your family; and there standsthe puppy who would have blown out the brains of a deserving young man, ifthe good sense of Mr. Denbigh had not denied him the opportunity. "

"Mercy!" cried the alarmed matron, on whom Newgate (for her early life hadbeen passed near its walls), with all its horrors, floated, and acontemplation of its punishments had been her juvenile lessons ofmorality--"Harry! Harry! would you commit murder?"

"Murder!" echoed her son, looking askance, as if dodging the bailiffs. "No, mother; I wanted nothing but what was fair. Mr. Denbigh would havehad an equal chance to blow out my brains; I am sure everything would havebeen fair. "

"Equal chance!" muttered his father, who had cooled himself, in somemeasure, by an extra pinch of snuff. "No, sir, you have no brains to lose. But I have promised Sir Edward that you shall make proper apologies tohimself, to his daughter, and to Mr. Denbigh. " This was rather exceedingthe truth, but the alderman prided himself on performing rather more thanhe promised. 

"Apology!" exclaimed the captain. "Why, sir, the apology is due to me. AskColonel Egerton if he ever heard of apologies being made by thechallenger. "

"No, sure, " said the mother, who, having made out the truth of the matter, thought it was likely enough to be creditable to her child; "ColonelEgerton never heard of such a thing. Did you, colonel?"

"Why, madam, " said the colonel, hesitatingly, and politely handing themerchant his snuff-box, which, in his agitation, had fallen on the floor, "circumstances sometimes justify a departure from ordinary measures. Youare certainly right as a rule; but not knowing the particulars in thepresent case, it is difficult for me to decide. Miss Jarvis, the tilburyis ready. "

The colonel bowed respectfully to the merchant, kissed his hand to hiswife, and led their daughter to his carriage. 

"Do you make the apologies?" asked Mr. Jarvis, as the door closed. 

"No, sir, " replied the captain, sullenly

"Then you must make your pay answer for the next sit months, " cried thefather, taking a signed draft on his banker from his pocket, coollytearing it in two pieces, carefully putting the name in his mouth, andchewing it into a ball. 

"Why, alderman, " said his wife (a name she never used unless she hadsomething to gain from her spouse, who loved to hear the appellation afterhe had relinquished the office), "it appears to me that Harry has shownnothing but a proper spirit. You are unkind--indeed you are. "

"A proper spirit? In what way? Do you know anything of the matter?"

"It is a proper spirit for a soldier to fight, I suppose, " said the wife, a little at a loss to explain. 

"Spirit, or no spirit, apology, or ten and sixpence. "

"Harry, " said his mother, holding up her finger in a menacing attitude, assoon as her husband had left the room (for he had last spoken with thedoor in his hand), "if you _do_ beg his pardon, you are no son of mine. "

"No, " cried Miss Sarah, "nor any brother of mine. I would be insufferablymean. "

"Who will pay my debts?" asked the son, looking up at the ceiling. 

"Why, I would, my child, if--if--I had not spent my own allowance. "

"I would, " echoed the sister; "but if we go to Bath, you know, I shallwant all my money. "

"Who will pay my debts?" repeated the son. 

"Apology, indeed! Who is he, that you, a son of Alderman--of--Mr. Jarvis, of the deanery, B----, North 'amptonshire, should beg his pardon--avagrant that nobody knows!"

"Who will pay my debts?" again inquired the captain drumming with hisfoot. "

"Harry, " exclaimed the mother, "do you love money better than honor--asoldier's honor?"

"No, mother; but I like good eating and drinking. Think mother; it's acool five hundred, and that's a famous deal of money. "

"Harry, " cried the mother, in a rage, "you are not fit for a soldier. Iwish I were in your place. "

"I wish, with all my heart, you had been for an hour this morning, "thought the son. After arguing for some time longer, they compromised, byagreeing to leave it to the decision of Colonel Egerton, who, the motherdid not doubt, would applaud her maintaining; the Jarvis dignity, a familyin which he took quite as much interest as he felt for his own--so he hadtold her fifty times. The captain, however, determined within himself totouch the five hundred, let the colonel decide as he might; but thecolonel's decision obviated all difficulties. The question was put to himby Mrs. Jarvis, on his return from the airing, with no doubt the decisionwould be favorable to her opinion. The colonel and herself, she said, never disagreed; and the lady was right--for wherever his interest made itdesirable to convert Mrs. Jarvis to his side of the question, Egerton hada manner of doing it that never failed to succeed. 

"Why, madam, " said he, with one of his most agreeable smiles, "apologiesare different things, at different times. You are certainly right in yoursentiments, as relates to a proper spirit in a soldier; but no one candoubt the spirit of the captain, after the stand he took in this affair;if Mr. Denbigh would not meet him (a very extraordinary measure, in deed, I confess), what can your son do more? He cannot _make_ a man fightagainst his will, you know. "

"True, true, " cried the matron, impatiently, "I do not want him to fight;heaven forbid! but why should he, the challenger, beg pardon? I am sure, to have the thing regular, Mr. Denbigh is the one to ask forgiveness. "

The colonel felt at a little loss how to reply, when Jarvis, in whom thethoughts of the five hundred pounds had worked a revolution, exclaimed--

"You know, mother, I accused him--that is, I suspected him of dancing withMiss Moseley against my right to her; now you find that it was all amistake, and so I had better act with dignity, and confess my error. "

"Oh, by all means, " cried the colonel, who saw the danger of anembarrassing rupture between the families, otherwise: "delicacy to _your_sex particularly requires that, ma'am, from your son;" and he accidentallydropped a letter as he spoke. 

"From Sir Edgar, colonel?" asked Mrs. Jarvis, as he stooped to pick it up. 

"From Sir Edgar, ma'am, and he begs to be remembered to yourself and allof your amiable family. "

Mrs. Jarvis inclined her body, in what she intended for a graceful bend, and sighed--a casual observer might have thought, with maternal anxietyfor the reputation of her child--but it was conjugal regret, that thepolitical obstinacy of the alderman had prevented his carrying up anaddress, and thus becoming Sir Timothy. Sir Edgar's heir prevailed, andthe captain received permission to do what he had done several hoursbefore. 

On leaving the room, after the first discussion, and before the appeal, the captain had hastened to his father with his concessions. The oldgentleman knew too well the influence of five hundred pounds to doubt theeffect in the present in stance, and he had ordered his carriage for theexcursion It came, and to the hall they proceeded. The captain found hisintended antagonist, and in a rather uncouth manner, he made the requiredconcession. He was restored to his former favor--no great distinction--andhis visits to the hall were suffered, but with a dislike Emily could neverconquer, nor at all times conceal. 

Denbigh was occupied with a book, when Jarvis commenced his speech to thebaronet and his daughter, and was apparently too much engaged with itscontents, to understand what was going on, as the captain blunderedthrough. It was necessary, the captain saw by a glance of his father'seyes, to say something to that gentleman, who had delicately withdrawn toa distant window. His speech was consequently made here too, and Mrs. Wilson could not avoid stealing a look at them. Denbigh smiled, and bowedin silence. It is enough, thought the widow; the offence was not againsthim, it was against his Maker; he should not arrogate to himself, in anymanner, the right to forgive, or to require apologies--the whole isconsistent. The subject was never afterwards alluded to: Denbigh appearedto have forgotten it; and Jane sighed gently, as she devoutly hoped thecolonel was not a duellist. 

Several days passed before the deanery ladies could sufficiently forgivethe indignity their family had sustained, to resume the customaryintercourse. Like all other grievances, where the passions are chieflyinterested, it was forgotten in time, however, and things were put in somemeasure on their former footing. The death of Digby served to increase thehorror of the Moseleys, and Jarvis himself felt rather uncomfortable, onmore accounts than one, at the fatal termination of the unpleasantbusiness. 

Chatterton, who to his friends had not hesitated to avow his attachment tohis cousin, but who had never proposed for her, as his present views andfortune were not, in his estimation, sufficient for her proper support, had pushed every interest he possessed, and left no steps unattempted anhonorable man could resort to, to effect his object. The desire to providefor his sisters had been backed by the ardor of a passion that had reachedits crisis; and the young peer who could not, in the present state ofthings, abandon the field to a rival so formidable as Denbigh, even tofurther his views to preferment, was waiting in anxious suspense thedecision on his application. A letter from his friend informed him, hisopponent was likely to succeed; that, in short, all hopes of success hadleft him. Chatterton was in despair. On the following day, however, hereceived a second letter from the same friend, unexpectedly announcing hisappointment. After mentioning the fact, he went on to say--"The cause ofthis sudden revolution in your favor is unknown to me, and unless yourlordship has obtained interest I am ignorant of, it is one of the mostsingular instances of ministerial caprice I have ever known. " Chattertonwas as much at a loss as his friend, to understand the affair; but itmattered not; he could now offer to Emily--it was a patent office of greatvalue, and a few years would amply portion his sisters. That very day, therefore, he proposed, and was refused. 

Emily had a difficult task to avoid self-reproach, in regulating herdeportment on this occasion. She was fond of Chatterton as a relation--asher brother's friend--as the brother of Grace, and even on his ownaccount; but it was the fondness of a sister. His manner--his words, which, although never addressed to herself, were sometimes overheardunintentionally, and sometimes reached her through her sisters, had lefther in no doubt of his attachment; she was excessively grieved at thediscovery, and had innocently appealed to her aunt for directions how toproceed. Of his intentions she had no doubt, but at the same time he hadnot put her in a situation to dispel his hopes; as to encouragement, inthe usual meaning of the term, she gave none to him, nor to any one else. There are no little attentions that lovers are fond of showing to theirmistresses, and which mistresses are fond of receiving, that Emily everpermitted to any gentleman--no rides--no walks--no tête-à-têtes. Alwaysnatural and unaffected, there was a simple dignity about her that forbadethe request, almost the thought, in the gentlemen of her acquaintance: shehad no amusements, no pleasures of any kind in which her sisters were nother companions; and if anything was on the carpet that required anattendant, John was ever ready. He was devoted to her; the decidedpreference she gave him over every other man, upon such occasions, flattered his affection; and he would, at any time, leave even GraceChatterton to attend his sister. All this too was without affectation, andgenerally without notice. Emily so looked the delicacy and reserve sheacted with so little ostentation that not even her own sex had affixed toher conduct the epithet of squeamish; it was difficult, therefore, for herto do anything which would show Lord Chatterton her disinclination to hissuit, without assuming a dislike she did not feel, or giving him slightsthat neither good breeding nor good nature could justify. At one time, indeed, she had expressed a wish to return to Clara; but this Mrs. Wilsonthought would only protract the evil, and she was compelled to wait hisown time. The peer himself did not rejoice more in his ability to make theoffer, therefore, than Emily did to have it in her power to decline it. Her rejection was firm and unqualified, but uttered with a grace and atenderness to his feelings, that bound her lover tighter than ever in herchains, and he resolved on immediate flight as his only recourse. 

"I hope nothing unpleasant has occurred to Lord Chatterton, " said Denbigh, with great interest, as he reached the spot where the young peer stoodleaning his head against a tree, on his way from the rectory to the hall. 

Chatterton raised his face as he spoke: there were evident traces of tearson it, and Denbigh, greatly shocked, was about to proceed as the othercaught his arm. 

"Mr. Denbigh, " said the young man, in a voice almost choked with emotion, "may you never know the pain I have felt this morning. Emily--EmilyMoseley--is lost to me--for ever. "

For a moment the blood rushed to the face of Denbigh, and his eyes flashedwith a look that Chatterton could not stand. He turned, as the voice ofDenbigh, in those remarkable tones which distinguished it from every othervoice he had ever heard, uttered--

"Chatterton, my lord, we are friends, I hope--I wish it; from my heart. "

"Go, Mr. Denbigh--go. You were going to Miss Moseley--do not let me detainyou. "

"I am going with _you_, Lord Chatterton, unless you forbid it, " saidDenbigh, with emphasis, slipping his arm through that of the peer. 

For two hours they walked together in the park; and when they appeared atdinner, Emily wondered why Mr. Denbigh had taken a seat next to hermother, instead of his usual place between herself and her aunt. In theevening, he announced his intention of leaving B---- for a short timewith Lord Chatterton. They were going to London together; but he hoped toreturn within ten days. This sudden determination caused some surprise;but, as the dowager supposed it was to secure the new situation, and theremainder of their friends thought it might be business, it was soonforgotten, though much regretted for the time. The gentlemen left the hallthat night to proceed to an inn, from which they could obtain a chaise andhorses; and the following morning, when the baronet's family assembledaround their social breakfast, they were many miles on the road to themetropolis. 

Chapter XV. 

Lady Chatterton, finding that little was to be expected in her presentsituation, excepting what she looked forward to from the varyingadmiration of John Moseley to her youngest daughter, determined to acceptan invitation of Borne standing to a nobleman's seat about fifty milesfrom the hall, and, in order to keep things in their proper places, toleave Grace with her friends, who had expressed a wish to that effect. Accordingly, the day succeeding the departure of her son, she proceeded onher expedition, accompanied by her willing assistant in the matrimonialspeculations. 

Grace Chatterton was by nature retiring and delicate; but her feelingswere acute, and on the subject of female propriety sensitive to a degree, that the great want of it in a relation she loved as much as her motherhad possibly in some measure increased. Her affections were too single intheir objects to have left her long in doubt as to their nature withrespect to the baronet's son; and it was one of the most painful ordersshe had ever received, that which compelled her to accept her cousin'sinvitation. Her mother was peremptory, however, and Grace was obliged tocomply. Every delicate feeling she possessed revolted at the step: thevisit itself was unwished for on her part; but there did exist a reasonwhich had reconciled her to that--the wedding of Clara. But now to remain, after all her family had gone, in the house where resided the man who hadas yet never solicited those affections she had been unable to withhold, it was humiliating--it was degrading her in her own esteem, and she couldscarcely endure it. 

It is said that women are fertile in inventions to further their schemesof personal gratification, vanity, or even mischief. It may be it is true;but the writer of these pages is a man--one who has seen much of the othersex, and he is happy to have an opportunity of paying a tribute to femalepurity and female truth. That there are hearts so disinterested as to losethe considerations of self, in advancing the happiness of those they love;that there are minds so pure as to recoil with disgust from the admissionof deception, indelicacy, or management, he knows; for he has seen it fromlong and close examination. He regrets that the very artlessness of thosewho are most pure in the one sex, subjects them to the suspicions of thegrosser-materials which compose the other He believes that innocency, singleness of heart, ardency of feeling, and unalloyed, shrinkingdelicacy, sometimes exist in the female bosom, to an extent that but fewmen are happy enough to discover, and that most men believe incompatiblewith the frailties of human nature. Grace Chatterton possessed no littleof what may almost be called this ethereal spirit and a visit to Boltonparsonage was immediately proposed by her to Emily. The latter, tooinnocent herself to suspect the motives of her cousin, was happy to beallowed to devote a fortnight to Clara, uninterrupted by the noisy roundof visiting and congratulations which had attended her first week; andMrs. Wilson and the two girls left the hall the same day with the DowagerLady Chatterton. Francis and Clara were happy to receive them, and theywere immediately domesticated in their new abode. Doctor Ives and his wifehad postponed an annual visit to a relation of the former on account ofthe marriage of their son, and they now availed themselves of this visitto perform their own engagement. B---- appeared in some measure deserted, and Egerton had the field almost to himself. Summer had arrived, and thecountry bloomed in all its luxuriance of vegetation: everything waspropitious to the indulgence of the softer passions; and Lady Moseley, ever a strict adherent to forms and decorum, admitted the intercoursebetween Jane and her admirer to be carried to as great lengths as thoseforms would justify. Still the colonel was not explicit; and Jane, whosedelicacy dreaded the exposure of feelings that was involved in hisdeclaration, gave or sought no marked opportunities for the avowal of hispassion. Yet they were seldom separate, and both Sir Edward and his wifelooked forward to their future union as a thing not to be doubted. LadyMoseley had given up her youngest child so absolutely to the government ofher aunt, that she seldom thought of her future establishment. She hadthat kind of reposing confidence in Mrs. Wilson's proceedings that feebleminds ever bestow on those who are much superior to them; and she evenapproved of a system in many respects which she could not endeavor toimitate. Her affection for Emily was not, however, less than what she feltfor her other children: she was, in fact, her favorite, and, had thediscipline of Mrs. Wilson admitted of so weak an interference, might havebeen injured as such. 

John Moseley had been able to find out exactly the hour they breakfastedat the deanery, the length of time it took Egerton's horses to go thedistance between that house and the hall; and on the sixth morning afterthe departure of his aunt, John's bays were in his phaeton, and allowingten minutes for the mile and a half to the park gates, John had gothappily off his own territories, before he met the tilbury travellingeastward. I am not to know which road the colonel may turn, thought John:and after a few friendly, but rather hasty greetings, the bays were againin full trot to the parsonage. 

"John, " said Emily, holding out her hand affectionately, and smiling alittle archly, as he approached the window where she stood, "you shouldtake a lesson in driving from Frank; you have turned more than one hair, Ibelieve. "

"How is Clara?" cried John, hastily, taking the offered hand, with a kiss, "aye, and aunt Wilson?"

"Both well, brother, and out walking this fine morning. "

"How happens it you are not with them?" inquired the brother, throwing hiseyes round the room. "Have they left you alone?"

"No Grace has this moment left me. "

"Well, Emily, " said John, taking his seat very composedly, but keeping hiseyes on the door, "I have come to dine with you. I thought I owed Clara avisit, and have managed nicely to give the colonel the go-by. "

"Clara will be happy to see you, dear John, and so will aunt, and so amI"--as she drew aside his fine hair with her fingers to cool his forehead. 

"And why not Grace, too?" asked John, with a look of a little alarm. 

"And Grace, too, I fancy--but here she is, to answer for herself. "

Grace said little on her entrance, but her eyes were brighter than usual, and she looked so contented and happy that Emily observed to her, in anaffectionate manner--

"I knew the eau-de-Cologne would do your head good. "

"Is Miss Chatterton unwell?" asked John, with a look of interest. 

"A slight headache, " said Grace, faintly, "but I feel much better. "

"Want of air and exercise: my horses are at the door; phaeton will holdthree easily; run, sister, for your hat, " almost pushing Emily out of theroom as he spoke. In a few; minutes the horses might have been sufferingfor air, but surely not for exercise. 

"I wish, " cried John, with impatience, when at the distance of a couple ofmiles from the parsonage, "that gentleman had driven his gig out of theroad. "

There was a small group on one side of the road, consisting of a man, awoman, and several children. The owner of the gig had alighted, and was inthe act of speaking to them, as the phaeton approached at a great rate. 

"John, " cried Emily, in terror, "You never can pass--you upset us. "

"There is no danger, dear Grace, " said the brother, endeavoring to checkhis horses; he succeeded in part, but not so as to prevent his passing ata spot where the road was very narrow; a wheel hit violently against astone, and some of his works gave way. The gentleman immediately hastenedto his assistance--it was Denbigh. 

"Miss Moseley!" cried he, in a voice of the tenderest interest "you arenot hurt in the least, I hope. "

"No, " said Emily, recovering her breath, "only frightened;" and taking hishand, she sprang from the carriage. 

Miss Chatterton found courage to wait quietly for the care of John. His"dear Grace, " had thrilled on every nerve, and she afterwards oftenlaughed at Emily for her terror when there was so little danger. Thehorses were not in the least frightened, and after a little mending, Johndeclared all was safe. To ask Emily to enter, the carriage again, was toexact no little sacrifice of her feelings to her reason; and she stood ina suspense that too plainly showed that, the terror she had been in hadnot left her. 

"If, " said Denbigh, modestly, "if Mr. Moseley will take the ladies in mygig, I will drive the phaeton to the hall, as it is rather unsafe for soheavy a load. "

"No, no, Denbigh, " said John, coolly, "you are not used to such mettlednags as mine--it would be indiscreet for you to drive them: if, however, you will be good enough to take Emily into your gig--Grace Chatterton, Iam sure, is not afraid to trust my driving, and we might all get back aswell as ever. "

Grace gave her hand almost unconsciously to John, and he handed her intothe phaeton, as Denbigh stood willing to execute his part of thearrangement, but too diffident to speak. It was not a moment foraffectation, if Emily had been capable of it, and blushing with thenovelty of her situation, she took her place in the gig. Denbigh stoppedand turned his eyes on the little group with which he had been talking, and at that moment they caught the attention of John also. The latterinquired after their situation. The tale was a piteous one, the distressevidently real. The husband had been gardener to a gentleman in aneighboring county, and he had been lately discharged, to make way, in thedifficulty of the times, for a relation of the steward, who was in want ofthe place. Suddenly thrown on the world, with a wife and four children, with but the wages of a week for his and their support, they had travelledthus far on the way to a neighboring parish, where he said he had a rightto, and must seek, public assistance. The children were crying for hunger, and the mother, who was a nurse, had been unable to walk further thanwhere she sat, but had sunk on the ground overcome with fatigue, and weakfrom the want of nourishment. Neither Emily nor Grace could refrain fromtears at the recital of these heavy woes; the want of sustenance wassomething so shocking in itself, and brought, as it were, immediatelybefore their eyes, the appeal was irresistible. John forgot hisbays--forgot even Grace, as he listened to the affecting story related bythe woman, who was much revived by some nutriment Denbigh had obtainedfrom a cottage near them, and to which they were about to proceed by hisdirections, as Moseley interrupted them. His hand shook, his eyesglistened as he took his purse from his pocket, and gave several guineasfrom it to the mendicant. Grace thought John had never appeared sohandsome as the moment, he banded the money to the gardener; his faceglowed with unusual excitement, and his symmetry had lost the only charmhe wanted in common, softness. Denbigh, after waiting patiently untilMoseley had bestowed his alms, gravely repeated his directions for theirproceeding to the cottage, when the carriages moved on. 

Emily revolved, in her mind, during their short ride, the horrid distressshe had witnessed. It had taken a strong hold on her feelings. Like herbrother, she was warm-hearted and compassionate, if we may use the term, to excess; and had she been prepared with the means, the gardener wouldhave reaped a double harvest of donations. It struck her, at the moment, unpleasantly, that Denbigh had been so backward in his liberality. The manhad rather sullenly displayed half a crown as his gift, in contrast withthe golden shower of John's generosity. It had been even somewhatoffensive in its exhibition, and urged her brother to a more hastydeparture than, under other circumstances, he would just at the momenthave felt disposed to make. Denbigh, however, had taken no notice of theindignity, and continued his directions in the same mild and benevolentmanner he had used during the whole interview. Half a crown was butlittle, thought Emily, for a family that was starving; and, unwilling tojudge harshly of one she had begun to value so highly, she came to thepainful conclusion, her companion was not as rich as he deserved to be. Emily had not yet to learn that charity was in proportion to the means ofthe donor, and a gentle wish insensibly stole over her that Denbigh mightin some way become more richly endowed with the good things of this world. Until this moment her thoughts had never turned to his temporal condition. She knew he was an officer in the army, but of what rank, or even of whatregiment, she was ignorant. He had frequently touched in his conversationson the customs of the different countries he had seen. He had served inItaly, in the north of Europe, in the West Indies, in Spain. Of themanners of the people, of their characters, he not unfrequently spoke, andwith a degree of intelligence, a liberality, a justness of discrimination, that had charmed his auditors; but on the point of personal service he hadmaintained a silence that was inflexible, and not a littlesurprising--more particularly of that part of his history which related tothe latter country; from all which she was rather inclined to think hismilitary rank was not as high as she thought he merited, and that possiblyhe felt an awkwardness of putting it in contrast with the more elevatedstation of Colonel Egerton. The same idea had struck the whole family, andprevented any inquiries which might be painful. He was so connected withthe mournful event of his father's death, that no questions could be putwith propriety to the doctor's family; and if Francis had been morecommunicative to Clara, she was too good a wife to mention it, and her ownfamily was possessed of too just a sense of propriety to touch upon pointsthat might bring her conjugal fidelity in question. 

Though Denbigh appeared a little abstracted during the ride, his questionsconcerning Sir Edward and her friends kind and affectionate. As theyapproached the house he suffered his horse to walk, and, after somehesitation, he took a letter from his pocket, and handing it to her, said--

"I hope Miss Moseley will not think me impertinent in becoming the bearerof a letter 'from her cousin, Lord Chatterton. He requested it soearnestly, that I could not refuse taking what I am sensible is a greatliberty; for it would be deception did I affect to be ignorant of hisadmiration, or of his generous treatment of a passion she cannot return. Chatterton, " and he smiled mournfully, "is yet too true to cease hiscommendations. "

Emily blushed painfully, but she took the letter in silence; and asDenbigh pursued the topic no further, the little distance they had to gowas ridden in silence. On entering the gates, however, he said, inquiringly, and with much interest--

"I sincerely hope I have not given offence to your delicacy, Miss Moseley. Lord Chatterton has made me an unwilling confidant. I need not say thesecret is sacred, on more accounts than one. "

"Surely not, Mr. Denbigh, " replied Emily, in a low tone; and the gigstopping, she hastened to accept the assistance of her brother to alight. 

"Well, sister, " cried John, laughing, "Denbigh is a disciple to Frank'ssystem of horse-flesh. Hairs smooth enough here, I see. Grace and Ithought you would never get home. " Now, John fibbed a little, for neitherGrace nor he had thought in the least about them, or anything else buteach other, from the moment they separated until the gig arrived. 

Emily made no reply to this speech, and as the gentlemen were engaged ingiving directions concerning their horses, she seized an opportunity toread Chatterton's letter. 

"I avail myself of the return of my friend Mr. Denbigh to that happyfamily from which reason requires my self-banishment to assure my amiablecousin, of my continued respect for her character, and to convince her ofmy gratitude for the tenderness she has manifested to feelings she cannotreturn. I may even venture to tell her what few women would be pleased tohear, but what I know Emily Moseley too well to doubt, for a moment, willgive her unalloyed pleasure--that owing to the kind, the benevolent, thebrotherly attentions of my true friend, Mr. Denbigh, I have already gaineda peace of mind and resignation I once thought was lost to me for ever. Ah! Emily, my beloved cousin, in Denbigh you will find, I doubt not, amind, principles, congenial to your own. It is impossible that he couldsee you without wishing to possess such a treasure; and, if I have a wishthat is now uppermost in my heart, it is, that you may learn to esteemeach other as you ought, when, I doubt not, you will become as happy asyou both deserve to be. What greater earthly blessing can I implore uponyou!

"Chatterton. "

Emily, while reading this epistle, felt a confusion but little inferior tothat which would have oppressed her had Denbigh himself been at her feet, soliciting that love Chatterton thought him so worthy of possessing; andwhen they met, she could hardly look in the face a man who, it would seem, had been so openly selected by another, as the fittest to be her partnerfor life. The unaltered manner of Denbigh himself, however, soon convincedher that he was entirely ignorant of the contents of the note, and itgreatly relieved her from the awkwardness his presence at firstoccasioned. 

Francis soon returned, accompanied by his wife and aunt, and was overjoyedto find the guest who had so unexpectedly arrived. His parents had not yetreturned from their visit, and Denbigh, of course, would remain at hispresent quarters. John promised to continue with them for a couple ofdays: and everything was soon settled to the perfect satisfaction of thewhole party. Mrs. Wilson knew the great danger of suffering young peopleto be inmates of the same house too well, wantonly to incur the penalties, but her visit had nearly expired, and it might give her a betteropportunity of judging Denbigh's character; and Grace Chatterton, thoughtoo delicate to follow herself, was well contented to be followed, especially when John Moseley was the pursuer. 

Chapter XVI. 

"I am sorry, aunt, Mr. Denbigh is not rich, " said Emily to Mrs, Wilson, after they had retired in the evening, almost unconscious of what sheuttered. The latter looked at her niece in surprise, at a remark soabrupt, and one so very different from the ordinary train of Emily'sreflections, as she required an explanation. Emily, slightly coloring atthe channel her thoughts had insensibly strayed into, gave her aunt anaccount of their adventure in the course of the morning's drive, andtouched lightly on the difference in the amount of the alms of her brotherand those of Mr. Denbigh. 

"The bestowal of money is not always an act of charity, " observed Mrs. Wilson, gravely, and the subject was dropped: though neither ceased todwell on it in her thoughts, until sleep closed the eyes of both. 

The following day Mrs. Wilson invited Grace and Emily to accompany her ina walk; the gentlemen having preceded them in pursuit of their differentavocations. Francis had his regular visits of spiritual consolation; Johnhad gone to the hall for his pointers and fowling-piece, the season forwoodcock having arrived; and Denbigh had proceeded no one knew whither. Ongaining the high-road, Mrs. Wilson desired her companions to lead the wayto the cottage where the family of the mendicant gardener had been lodged, and thither they soon arrived. On knocking at the door, they wereimmediately admitted to an outer room; in which they found the wife of thelaborer who inhabited the building, engaged in her customary morningemployments. They explained the motives of the visit, and were told thatthe family they sought were in an adjoining room, but she rather thoughtat that moment engaged with a clergyman who had called a quarter of anhour before. "I expect, my lady, it's the new rector, who everybody saysis so good to the poor and needy; but I have not found time yet to go tochurch to hear his reverence preach, ma'am, " courtseying and handing thefresh dusted chairs to her unexpected visitors. The ladies seatedthemselves, too delicate to interrupt Francis in his sacred duties, andwere silently waiting his appearance, when a voice was distinctly heardthrough the thin partition, the first note of which undeceived them as tothe character of the gardener's visitor. 

"It appears then, Davis, by your own confession, " said Denbigh, mildly, but in a tone of reproof, "that your frequent acts of intemperance have atleast given ground for the steward's procuring your discharge if it hasnot justified him in doing that which his duty to your common employerrequired. "

"It is hard, sir, " replied the man sullenly, "to be thrown on the worldwith a family like mine, to make way for a younger man with but onechild. "

"It may be unfortunate for your wife and children, " said Denbigh, "butjust, as respects yourself. I have already convinced you, that myinterference or reproof is not an empty one: carry the letter to theperson to whom it is directed, and I pledge you, you shall have a newtrial; and should you conduct yourself soberly, and with propriety, continued and ample support; the second letter will gain you childrenimmediate admission to the school I mentioned; and I now leave you, withan earnest injunction to remember that habits of intemperance not onlydisqualify you to support those who have such great claims on yourprotection, but inevitably lead to a loss of those powers which arenecessary to insure your own eternal welfare. "

"May Heaven bless your honor, " cried the woman, with fervor, and evidentlyin tears, "both for what you have said, and what you have done. Thomasonly wants to be taken from temptation, to become a sober man again--anhonest one he has ever been, I am sure. "

"I have selected a place for him, " replied Denbigh "where there is noexposure through improper companions, and everything now depends uponhimself, under Providence. "

Mrs. Wilson had risen from her chair on the first intimation given byDenbigh of his intention to go, but had paused at the door to listen tothis last speech; when beckoning her companions, she hastily withdrew, having first made a small present to the woman of the cottage, andrequested her not to mention their having called. 

"What becomes now of the comparative charity of your brother and Mr. Denbigh, Emily?" asked Mrs. Wilson, as they gained the road on theirreturn homewards. Emily was not accustomed to hear any act of Johnslightly spoken of without at least manifesting some emotion, whichbetrayed her sisterly regard; but on the present occasion she chose to besilent; while Grace, after waiting in expectation that her cousin wouldspeak, ventured to say timidly--

"I am sure, dear madam, Mr. Moseley was very liberal and the tears were inhis eyes while he gave the money. I was looking directly at them the wholetime. "

"John is compassionate by nature, " continued Mrs. Wilson with an almostimperceptible smile. "I have no doubt his sympathies were warmly enlistedin behalf of this family and possessing much, he gave liberally. I have nodoubt he would have undergone personal privation to have relieved theirdistress, and endured both pain and labor, with such an excitement beforehim. But what is all that to the charity of Mr. Denbigh?"

Grace was unused to contend, and, least of all, with Mrs. Wilson; but, unwilling to abandon John to such censure, with increased animation, shesaid--

"If bestowing freely, and feeling for the distress you relieve, be notcommendable, madam, I am sure I am ignorant what is. "

"That compassion for the woes of others is beautiful in itself, and thewant of it an invariable evidence of corruption from too much, and anill-governed, intercourse with the world, I am willing to acknowledge, mydear Grace, " said Mrs. Wilson, kindly; "but the relief of misery, wherethe heart has not undergone this hardening ordeal, is only a relief to ourown feelings: this is compassion; but Christian charity is a higher orderof duty: it enters into every sensation of the heart; disposes us tojudge, as well as to act, favorably to our fellow creatures; is deeplyseated in the sense of our own unworthiness; keeps a single eye, in itsdispensations of temporal benefits, to the everlasting happiness of theobjects of its bounty; is consistent, well regulated; in short, "--and Mrs. Wilson's pale cheek glowed with an unusual richness of color--"it is anhumble attempt to copy after the heavenly example of our Redeemer, insacrificing ourselves to the welfare of others, and does and must proceedfrom a love of his person, and an obedience to his mandates. "

"And Mr. Denbigh, aunt, " exclaimed Emily, the blood mantling to her cheekswith a sympathetic glow, while she lost all consideration for John in thestrength of her feelings, "his charity you think to be of thisdescription?"

"So far, my child, as we can understand motives from the nature of theconduct, such appears to have been the charity of Mr. Denbigh. "

Grace was silenced, if not convinced; and the ladies continued their walk, lost in their own reflections, until they reached a bend in the road whichhid the cottage from view. Emily involuntarily turned her head as theyarrived at the spot, and saw that Denbigh had approached within a fewpaces of them. On joining them, he commenced his complimentary address insuch a way as convinced them the cottager had been true to the injunctiongiven by Mrs. Wilson. No mention was made of the gardener, and Denbighbegan a lively description of some foreign scenery, of which their presentsituation reminded him. The discourse was maintained with great interestby himself and Mrs. Wilson for the remainder of their walk. 

It was yet early when they reached the parsonage, where they found John, who had driven to the hall to breakfast, and who, instead of pursuing hisfavorite amusement of shooting, laid down his gun as they entered, observing, "It is rather soon yet for the woodcocks, and I believe I willlisten to your entertaining conversation, ladies, for the remainder of themorning. " He threw himself upon a sofa at no great distance from Grace, and in such a position as enabled him, without rudeness, to study thefeatures of her lovely face, while Denbigh read aloud to the ladiesCampbell's beautiful description of wedded love, in Gertrude of Wyoming. 

There was a chastened correctness in the ordinary manner of Denbigh whichwore the appearance of the influence of his reason, and a subjection ofthe passions, that, if anything, gave him less interest with Emily thanhad it been marked by an evidence of stronger feeling. But on the presentoccasion, this objection was removed: his reading was impressive; hedwelt on those passages which most pleased him with a warmth of eulogiumfully equal to her own undisguised sensations. In the hour occupied in thereading this exquisite little poem, and in commenting on its merits andsentiments, Denbigh gained more on her imagination than in all theirformer intercourse. His ideas were as pure, as chastened, and almost asvivid as those of the poet; and Emily listened to his periods with intenseattention, as they flowed from him in language as glowing as his ideas. The poem had been first read to her by her brother, and she was surprisedto discover how she had overlooked its beauties on that occasion. EvenJohn acknowledged that it certainly appeared a different thing now fromwhat he had then thought it; but Emily had taxed his declamatory power inthe height of the pheasant season, and, somehow or other, John nowimagined that Gertrude was just such a delicate, feminine, warm-hearteddomestic girl as Grace Chatterton. As Denbigh closed the book, and enteredinto a general conversation with Clara and her sister, John followed Graceto a window, and speaking in a tone of unusual softness for him, he said--

"Do you know, Miss Chatterton, I have accepted your brother's invitationto go into Suffolk this summer, and that you are to be plagued with me andmy pointers again?"

"Plagued, Mr. Moseley!" said Grace, in a voice even softer than his own. "I am sure--I am sure, we none of us think you or your dogs in the least aplague. "

"Ah! Grace, " and John was about to become what he had never beenbefore--sentimental--- when he saw the carriage of Chatterton, containingthe dowager and Catherine entering the parsonage gates. 

Pshaw! _thought_ John, there comes Mother Chatterton "Ah! Grace, " saidJohn, "there are your mother and sister returned already. "

"Already!" said the young lady, and, for the first time in her life, shefelt rather unlike a dutiful child. Five minutes could have made no greatdifference to her mother, and she would greatly have liked to hear whatJohn Moseley meant to have said; for the alteration in his mannerconvinced her that his first "ah! Grace" was to have been continued in asomewhat different language from that in which the second "ah! Grace" wasended. 

Young Moseley and her daughter, standing together at the open window, caught the attention of Lady Chatterton the moment she got a view of thehouse, and she entered with a good humor she had not felt since thedisappointment in her late expedition in behalf of Catherine; for thegentleman she had had in view in this excursion had been taken up byanother rover, acting on her own account, and backed by a little more witand a good deal more money than what Kate could be fairly thought topossess. Nothing further in that quarter offering in the way of heroccupation, she turned her horses' heads towards London, that greattheatre on which there never was a loss for actors. The salutations hadhardly passed before, turning to John, she exclaimed, with what sheintended for a most motherly smile, "What! not shooting this fine day, Mr. Moseley? I thought you never missed a day in the season. "

"It is rather early yet, my lady, " said John, coolly, a little alarmed bythe expression of her countenance. 

"Oh!" continued the dowager, in the same strain, "I see how it is; theladies have too many attractions for so gallant a young man as yourself. "Now, as Grace, her own daughter, was the only lady of the party who couldreasonably be supposed to have much influence over John's movements--ayoung gentleman seldom caring as much for his own as for other people'ssisters, this may be fairly set down as a pretty broad hint of theopinion the dowager entertained of the real state of things; and John sawit, and Grace saw it. The former coolly replied, "Why, upon the whole, ifyou will excuse the neglect, I will try a shot this fine day, " In fiveminutes, Carlo and Rover were both delighted. Grace kept her place at thewindow, from a feeling she could not define, and of which perhaps she wasunconscious, until the gate closed, and the shrubbery hid the sportsmanfrom her sight, and then she withdrew to her room to weep. 

Had Grace Chatterton been a particle less delicate--less retiring--blessedwith a managing mother, as she was, John Moseley would not have thoughtanother moment about her. But, on every occasion when the dowager made anyof her open attacks, Grace discovered so much distress, so muchunwillingness to second them, that a suspicion of a confederacy neverentered his brain. It is not to be supposed that Lady Chattelton'smanoeuvres were limited to the direct and palpable schemes we havementioned; no--these were the effervescence, the exuberance of her zeal;but as is generally the case, they sufficiently proved the ground-work ofall her other machinations; none of the little artifices of such asplacing--of leaving alone--of showing similarity of tastes:--ofcompliments to the gentlemen, were neglected. --This latter business shehad contrived to get Catherine to take off her hands; but Grace couldnever pay a compliment in her life, unless changing of color, trembling, undulations of the bosom, and such natural movements can be so called; butshe loved dearly to receive them from John Moseley. 

"Well, my child, " said the mother, as she seated herself by the side ofher daughter, who hastily endeavored to conceal her tears, "when are we tohave another wedding? I trust everything is settled between you and Mr. Moseley, by this time. "

"Mother! Mother!" said Grace, nearly gasping for breath, "Mother, youwill break my heart, indeed you will. " She hid her face in the clothes ofthe bed by which she sat, and wept with a feeling of despair. 

"Tut, my dear, " replied the dowager, not noticing her anguish, ormistaking it for a girlish shame, "you young people are fools in thesematters, but Sir Edward and myself will arrange everything as it shouldbe. "

The daughter now not only looked up, but sprang from her seat, her handsclasped together, her eyes fixed in horror, her cheek pale as death; butthe mother had retired, and Grace sank back into her chair with asensation of disgrace, of despair, which could not have been surpassed, had she really merited the obloquy and shame which she thought were aboutto be heaped upon her. 

Chapter XVII. 

The succeeding morning, the whole party, with, the exception of Denbigh, returned to the hall. Nothing had occurred out of the ordinary course ofthe colonel's assiduities; and Jane, whose sense of propriety forbad theindulgence of premeditated tête-à-têtes, and such little accompaniments ofevery-day attachments, was rejoiced to see a sister she loved, and an auntshe respected, once more in the bosom of her family. 

The dowager impatiently waited an opportunity to effect, what she intendedfor a master-stroke of policy in the disposal of Grace. Like all othermanagers, she thought no one equal to herself in devising ways and means, and was unwilling to leave anything to nature. Grace had invariablythwarted all her schemes by her obstinacy; and as she thought youngMoseley really attached to her, she determined by a bold stroke to removethe impediments of false shame, and the dread of repulse, which shebelieved alone kept the youth from an avowal of his wishes, and get rid atonce of a plague that had annoyed her not a little--her daughter'sdelicacy. 

Sir Edward spent an hour every morning in his library, overlooking hisaccounts, and in other necessary employments of a similar nature, and itwas here she determined to have the conference. 

"My Lady Chatterton, you do me honor, " said the baronet, handing her achair on her entrance. 

"Upon my word, cousin, " cried the dowager, "you have a very convenientapartment here, " looking around her in affected admiration of all she saw. 

The baronet replied, and a short discourse on the arrangements of thewhole house insensibly led to some remarks on the taste of his mother, theHonorable Lady Moseley (a Chatterton), until, having warmed the feelingsof the old gentleman by some well-timed compliments of that nature, sheventured on the principal object of her visit. 

"I am happy to find, Sir Edward, you are so well pleased with the familyas to wish to make another selection from it. I sincerely hope it mayprove as judicious as the former one. "

Sir Edward was a little at a loss to understand her meaning, although hethought it might allude to his son, who he had some time suspected hadviews on Grace Chatterton; and willing to know the truth, and ratherpleased to find John had selected a young woman he loved in his heart, heobserved--

"I am not sure I rightly understand your ladyship, though I hope I do. "

"No!" cried the dowager, in well-counterfeited affectation of surprise. "Perhaps, after all, maternal anxiety has deceived me, then. Mr. Moseleycould hardly have ventured to proceed without your approbation. "

"I have ever declined influencing any of my children, Lady Chatterton, "said the baronet, "and John is not ignorant of my sentiments. I sincerelyhope, however, you allude to an attachment to Grace?"

"I did certainly, Sir Edward, " said the lady, hesitatingly "I may bedeceived; but you must understand the feelings of a mother, and a youngwoman ought not to be trifled with. "

"My son is incapable of trifling, I hope, " cried Sir Edward; withanimation, "and, least of all, with Grace Chatterton No; you are quiteright. If he has made his choice, he should not be ashamed to avow it. "

"I would not wish, on any account, to hurry matters, " said the dowager;"but the report which is abroad will prevent other young men from puttingin their claims, Sir Edward" (sighing). "I have a mother's feelings: if Ihave been hasty, your goodness will overlook it. " And Lady Chattertonplaced her handkerchief to her eyes, to conceal the tears that did notflow. 

Sir Edward thought all this very natural, and as it should be, and hesought an early conference with his son. 

"John, " said the father, taking his hand kindly, "you have no reason todoubt my affection or my compliance to your wishes. Fortune is a thing outof the question-with a young man of your expectations. " And Sir Edward, inhis eagerness to smoothe the way, went on: "You can live here, or occupymy small seat in Wiltshire. I can allow you five thousand a year, withmuch ease to myself. Indeed, your mother and myself would both straightenourselves, to add to your comforts; but it is unnecessary--we have enough, and you have enough. "

Sir Edward, in a few moments, would have settled everything to thedowager's perfect satisfaction, had not John interrupted him by theexclamation of--

"To what do you allude, father?"

"Allude?" said Sir Edward, simply. "Why, Grace Chatterton, my son. "

"Grace Chatterton! Sir Edward. What have I to do with Grace Chatterton?"

"Her mother has made me acquainted with your proposals, and"--

"Proposals!"

"Attentions, I ought to have said; and you have no reason to apprehendanything from me, my child. "

"Attentions!" said John, haughtily. "I hope Lady Chatterton does notaccuse me of improper attentions to her daughter?"

"No, not improper, my son, " said his father: "on the contrary, she is muchpleased with them. "

"She is, is she? But I am displeased that she should undertake to putconstructions on my acts that no attention or words of mine will justify. "

It was now Sir Edward's turn to be surprised. He had thought he was doinghis son a kindness, when he had only been forwarding the dowager'sschemes; but averse from contention, and wondering at his cousin'smistake, which he at once attributed to her anxiety in behalf of afavorite daughter, he told John he was sorry there had been anymisapprehension, and left him. 

"No, no, " said Moseley, internally, as he paced up and down his father'slibrary, "my lady dowager, you are not going to force a wife down mythroat. If you do, I am mistaken; and Grace, if Grace"--John softened andbegan to feel unhappy a little, but anger prevailed. 

From the moment Grace Chatterton conceived a dread of her mother's sayinganything to Sir Edward, her whole conduct was altered. She could hardlylook any of the family in the face, and it was her most ardent wish thatthey might depart. John she avoided as she would an adder, although itnearly broke her heart to do so. 

Mr. Benfield had stayed longer than usual, and he now wished to return. John Moseley eagerly profited by this opportunity, and the very day afterthe conversation in the library he went to Benfield Lodge as a dutifulnephew, to see his venerable uncle safely restored once more to the abodeof his ancestors. 

Lady Chatterton now perceived, when too late, that she had overshot hermark, while, at the same time, she wondered at the reason of a result sostrange from such well-digested and well-conducted plans. She determined, however, never again to interfere between her daughter and the baronet'sheir; concluding, with a nearer approach to the truth than alwaysaccompanied her deductions, that they resembled ordinary lovers in neithertheir temperaments nor opinions. 

Perceiving no further use in remaining any longer at the hail, she tookher leave, and, accompanied by both her daughters, proceeded to thecapital, where she expected to meet her son. 

Dr. Ives and his wife returned to the rectory on the same day, and Denbighimmediately resumed his abode under their roof. The intercourse betweenthe rector's family and Sir Edward's was renewed with all its formerfriendly confidence. 

Colonel Egerton began to speak of his departure also, but hinted atintentions of visiting L---- at the period of the baronet's visit to hisuncle, before he proceeded to town in the winter. 

L---- was a small village on the coast, within a mile of Benfield Lodge;and from its natural convenience, it had long been resorted to by theneighboring gentry for the benefit of sea bathing. The baronet hadpromised Mr. Benfield his visit should be made at an earlier day thanusual, in order to gratify Jane with a visit to Bath, before they went toLondon, at which town they were promised by Mrs. Jarvis the pleasure ofher society, and that of her son and daughters. 

Precaution is a word of simple meaning in itself, but various are theways adopted by different individuals in this life to enforce its import;and not a few are the evils which it is thought necessary to guardagainst. To provide in season against the dangers of want; personalinjury, loss of character, and a great many other such acknowledgedmisfortunes, has become a kind of instinctive process of our natures. Thefew exceptions which exist only go to prove the rule: in addition tothese, almost every man has some ruling propensity to gratify, to advancewhich his ingenuity is ever on the alert, or some apprehended evil toavert, which calls all his prudence into activity. Yet how seldom is itexerted, in order to give a rational ground to expect permanent happinessin wedlock. 

Marriage is called a lottery, and it is thought, like all other, lotteries, there are more blanks than prizes; yet is it not made moreprecarious than it ought to be, by our neglect of that degree ofprecaution which we would be ridiculed for omitting in conducting ourevery-day concerns? Is not the standard of matrimonial felicity placed toolow? Ought we not to look more to the possession of principles than to thepossession of wealth? Or is it at all justifiable in a Christian to commita child, a daughter, to the keeping of a man who wants the very essentialthey acknowledge most necessary to constitute a perfect character? Mostmen revolt at infidelity in a woman, and most men, however licentiousthemselves, look for, at least, the exterior of religion in their wives. The education of their children is a serious responsibility; and althoughseldom conducted on such rules as will stand the test of reason, it is notto be entirely shaken off: they choose their early impressions should becorrect, their infant conduct at least blameless. And are not-one halfmankind of the male sex? Are precepts in religion, in morals, only forfemales? Are we to reverse the theory of the Mahommedans, and though wedo not believe it, act as if _men_ had no souls. Is not the example of thefather as important to the son as that of the mother to the daughter? Inshort, is there any security against the commission of enormities, but anhumble and devout dependence on the assistance of that Almighty Power, which alone is able to hold us up against temptation?

Uniformity of taste is no doubt necessary to what we call love, but is nottaste acquired? Would our daughters admire a handsome deist, if properlyimpressed with a horror of his doctrines, sooner than they now wouldadmire a handsome Mahommedan? We would refuse our children to a piousdissenter, to give them to impious members of the establishment: we makethe substance less than the shadow. 

Our principal characters are possessed of these diversified views of theevils to be averted. Mrs. Wilson considers Christianity an indispensablerequisite in the husband to be _permitted_ to her charge, and watchesagainst the _possibility_ of any other than a Christian's gaining theaffections of Emily. Lady Chatterton considers the want of anestablishment as the unpardonable sin, and directs her energies to preventthis evil; while John Moseley looks upon a free will as the birthright ofan Englishman, and is, at the present moment, anxiously alive to preventthe dowager's making him the husband of Grace, the thing of all others hemost strenuously desires. 

Chapter XVIII. 

John Moseley returned from L---- within a week, and appeared as if hiswhole delight consisted in knocking over the inoffensive birds. Hisrestlessness induced him to make Jarvis his companion; for although heabhorred the captain's style of pursuing the sport, being in his opinionboth out of rule and without taste, yet he was a constitutional fidget, and suited his own moving propensities at the moment. Egerton and Denbighwere both frequently at the hall, but generally gave their time to theladies, neither being much inclined to the favorite amusement of John. 

There was a little arbor within the walls of the park, which for years hadbeen a retreat from the summer heats to the ladies of the Moseley family;even so long as the youth of Mrs. Wilson it had been in vogue, and sheloved it with a kind of melancholy pleasure, as the spot where she hadfirst listened to the language of love from the lips of her late husband. Into this arbor the ladies had one day retired, during the warmth of anoon-day sun, with the exception of Lady Moseley, who had her ownengagement in the house. Between Egerton and Denbigh there was maintaineda kind of courtly intercourse, which prevented any disagreeable collisionfrom their evident dislike. Mrs. Wilson thought, on the part of Denbigh, it was the forbearance of a principled indulgence to another's weakness;while the colonel's otherwise uniform good breeding was hardly able toconceal a something amounting to very near repugnance. Egerton had takenhis seat on the ground, near the feet of Jane; and Denbigh was stationedon a bench placed without the arbor but so near as to have the fullbenefit of the shade of the noble oak, branches of which had been trainedso as to compose its principal covering. It might have been accident, thatgave each his particular situation; but it is certain they were so placedas not to be in sight of each other, and so placed that the colonel wasready to hand Jane her scissors, or any other little implement that sheoccasionally dropped, and that Denbigh could read every lineament of theanimated countenance of Emily as she listened to his description of thecuriosities of Egypt, a country in which he had spent a few months whileattached to the army in Sicily. In this situation we will leave them foran hour, happy in the society of each other, while we trace the route ofJohn Moseley and his companion, in their pursuit of woodcock, on the sameday. 

"Do you know, Moseley, " said Jarvis, who began to think he was a favoritewith John, now that he was admitted to his _menus plaisirs_, "that I havetaken it into my head this Mr. Denbigh was very happy to plead his moralsfor not meeting me. He is a soldier, but I cannot find out what battles hehas been in. "

"Captain Jarvis, " said John, coolly, "the less you say about that businessthe better. Call in Rover. "

Now, another of Jarvis's recommendations was a set of lungs that mighthave been heard half a mile with great ease on a still morning. 

"Why, " said Jarvis, rather humbly, "I am sensible, Mr Moseley, I was verywrong as regards your sister; but don't you think it a little odd in asoldier not to fight when properly called upon?"

"I suppose Mr. Denbigh did not think himself properly called upon, orperhaps he had heard what a great shot you were. "

Six months before his appearance in B----, Captain Jarvis had been aclerk in the counting-room of Jarvis, Baxter & Co. , and had never heldfire-arms of any kind in his hand, with the exception of an oldblunderbuss, which had been a kind of sentinel over the iron chest foryears. On mounting the cockade, he hail taken up shooting as a martialexercise, inasmuch as the burning of gunpowder was an attendant of therecreation. He had never killed but one bird in his life, and that, was anowl, of which he took the advantage of daylight and his stocking feet toknock off a tree in the deanery grounds, very early after his arrival. Inhis trials with John, he sometimes pulled trigger at the same moment withhis companion; and as the bird generally fell, he thought he had an equalclaim to the honor. He was fond of warring with crows and birds of thelarger sort, and invariably went provided with small balls fitted to thebore of his fowling-piece for such accidental rencontres. He had anotherhabit, which was not a little annoying to John, who had several timestried in vain to break him of it--that of shooting at marks. If birds werenot plenty, he would throw up a chip, and sometimes his hat, by way ofshooting on the wing. 

As the clay was excessively hot, and the game kept close, John feltwilling to return from such unprofitable labor. The captain now commencedhis chip firing, which in a few minutes was succeeded by his hat. 

"See, Moseley, see; I have hit the band, " cried the captain, delighted tofind he had at last wounded his old antagonist. "I don't think you canbeat that yourself. "

"I am not sure I can, " said John, slipping a handful of gravel in themuzzle of his piece slily, "but I can do, as you did--try. "

"Do, " cried the captain, pleased to get his companion down to his ownlevel of amusements. "Are you ready?"

"Yes; throw. "

Jarvis threw, and John fired: the hat fairly bounced. 

"Have I hit it?" asked John, while reloading the barrel he had discharged. 

"Hit it!" said the captain, looking ruefully at his hat. "It looks like acullender; but, Moseley, your gun don't scatter well: a dozen shot havegone through in the same place. "

"It does look rather like a cullender, " said John, as he overlooked hiscompanion's beaver, "and, by the _size_ of some of the holes, one that hasbeen a good deal used. "

The reports of the fowling-pieces announced to the party in the arbor thereturn of the sportsmen, it being an invariable practice with John Moseleyto discharge his gun before he came in; and Jarvis had imitated him, froma wish to be what he called in rule. 

"Mr. Denbigh, " said John, as he put down his gun, "Captain Jarvis has gotthe better of his hat at last. "

Denbigh smiled without speaking; and the captain, unwilling to haveanything to say to a gentleman to whom be had been obliged to apologize, went into the arbor to show the mangled condition of his head-piece to thecolonel, on whose sympathies he felt a kind of claim, being of the samecorps. John complained of thirst, and went to a little run of water but ashort distance from them, in order to satisfy it. The interruption ofJarvis was particularly unseasonable. Jane was relating, in a mannerpeculiar to herself, in which was mingled that undefinable exchange oflooks lovers are so fond of, some incident of her early life to thecolonel that greatly interested him. Knowing the captain's foibles, hepointed, therefore, with his finger, as he said--

"There is one of your old enemies, a hawk. "

Jarvis threw down his hat, and ran with boyish eagerness to drive away theintruder. In his haste, he caught up the gun of John Moseley, and loadingit rapidly/threw in a ball from his usual stock; but whether the hawk sawand knew him, or whether it saw something else it liked better, it made adart for the baronet's poultry-yard at no great distance, and was out ofsight in a minute. Seeing that his foe had vanished, the captain laid thepiece where he had found it, and, recovering his old train of ideas, picked up his hat again. 

"John, " said Emily, as she approached him affectionately, "you were toowarm to drink. "

"Stand off, sis, " cried John, playfully, taking up the gun from againstthe body of the tree, and dropping it towards her. 

Jarvis had endeavored to make an appeal to the commiseration of Emily infavor of the neglected beaver, and was within a few feet of them. At thismoment, recoiling from the muzzle of the gun, he exclaimed, "It isloaded!" "Hold, " cried Denbigh, in a voice of horror, as he sprang betweenJohn and his sister. Both were too late; the piece was discharged. Denbigh, turning to Emily, and smiling mournfully, gazed for a moment ather with an expression of tenderness, of pleasure, of sorrow, so blendedthat she retained the recollection of it for life, and fell at her feet. 

The gun dropped from the nerveless grasp of young Moseley. Emily sank ininsensibility by the side of her preserver. Mrs. Wilson and Jane stoodspeechless and aghast. The colonel alone retained the presence of mindnecessary to devise the steps to be immediately taken. He sprang to theexamination of Denbigh; the eyes of the wounded man were open, and hisrecollection perfect: the first were fixed in intense observation on theinanimate body which lay at his side. 

"Leave me, Colonel Egerton, " he said, speaking with difficulty, andpointing in the direction of the little run of water, "assist MissMoseley--your hat--your hat will answer. "

Accustomed to scenes of blood, and not ignorant that time and care werethe remedies to be applied to the wounded man, Egerton flew to the stream, and returning immediately, by the help of her sister and Mrs. Wilson, soonrestored Emily to life. The ladies and John had now begun to act. Thetenderest assiduities of Jane were devoted to her sister; while Mrs. Wilson observing her niece to be uninjured by anything but the shock, assisted John in supporting the wounded man. 

Denbigh spoke, requesting to be carried to the house; and Jarvis wasdespatched for help. Within half an hour, Denbigh was placed on a couch inthe house of Sir Edward, and was quietly waiting for that professional aidwhich could only decide on his probable fate. The group assembled in theroom were in fearful expectation of the arrival of the surgeons, inpursuit of whom messengers had been sent both to the barracks in F---- andto the town itself. Sir Edward sat by the side of the sufferer, holdingone of his hands in his own, now turning his tearful eyes on that daughterwho had so lately been rescued as it were from the certainty of death, inmute gratitude and thanksgiving; and now dwelling on the countenance ofhim, who, by bravely interposing his bosom to the blow, had incurred inhis own person the imminent danger of a similar fate, with a painful senseof his perilous situation, and devout and earnest prayers for his safety. Emily was with her father, as with the rest of his family, a decidedfavorite; and no reward would have been sufficient, no gratitude livelyenough, in the estimation of the baronet, to compensate the protector ofsuch a child. She sat between her mother and Jane, with a hand held byeach, pale and oppressed with a load of gratitude, of thanksgiving, ofwoe, that almost bowed her to the earth. Lady Moseley and Jane were bothsensibly touched with the deliverance of Emily, and manifested theinterest they took in her by the tenderest caresses, while Mrs. Wilson satcalmly collected within herself, occasionally giving those few directionswhich were necessary under the circumstances, and offering up her silentpetitions in behalf of the sufferer. John had taken horse immediately forF----, and Jarvis had volunteered to go to the rectory and Bolton. Denbighinquired frequently and with much anxiety for Dr. Ives; but the rector wasabsent from home on a visit to a sick parishioner, and it was late in theevening before he arrived. Within three hours of the accident, however, Dr. Black, the surgeon of the ----th, reached the hall, and immediatelyproceeded to examine the wound. The ball had penetrated the right breast, and gone directly through the body; it was extracted with very littledifficulty, and his attendant acquainted the anxious friends of Denbighthat the heart certainly, and he hoped the lungs, had escaped uninjured. The ball was a very small one, and the principal danger to be apprehendedwas from fever: he had taken the usual precautions against that, andshould it not set in with a violence greater than he apprehended atpresent, the patient might be abroad within the month. 

"But, " continued the surgeon, with the hardened indifference of hisprofession, "the gentleman has had a narrow chance in the passage of theball itself; half an inch would have settled his accounts with thisworld. "

This information greatly relieved the family, and orders were given topreserve a silence in the house that would favor the patient's dispositionto quiet, or, if possible, sleep. 

Dr. Ives now reached the hall. Mrs. Wilson had never Been the rector inthe agitation, or with the want of self-command he was in, as she met himat the entrance of the house. 

"Is he alive?--is there hope?--where is George?"--cried the doctor, as hecaught the extended hand of Mrs. Wilson. She briefly acquainted him withthe surgeon's report, and the reasonable ground there was to expectDenbigh would survive the injury. 

"May God be praised, " said the rector, in a suppressed voice, and hehastily withdrew into another room. Mrs. Wilson followed him slowly and insilence; but was checked on opening the door with the sight of the rectoron his knees, the tears stealing down his venerable cheeks in quicksuccession. "Surely, " thought the widow, as she drew back unnoticed, "ayouth capable of exciting such affection in a man like Dr. Ives, cannot beunworthy. "

Denbigh, hearing of the arrival of his friend, desired to see him alone. Their conference was short, and the rector returned from it with increasedhopes of the termination of this dreadful accident. He immediately leftthe hall for his own house, with a promise of returning early on thefollowing morning. 

During the night, however, the symptoms became unfavorable; and before thereturn of Dr. Ives, Denbigh was in a state of delirium from the height ofhis fever, and the apprehensions of his friends were renewed withadditional force. 

"What, what, my good sir, do you think of him?" said the baronet to thefamily physician, with an emotion that the danger of his dearest childwould not have exceeded, and within hearing of most of his children, whowere collected in the ante-chamber of the room in which Denbigh wasplaced. 

"It is impossible to say, Sir Edward, " replied the physician: "he refusesall medicines, and unless this fever abates, there is but little hope ofrecovery. "

Emily stood during this question and answer, motionless, pale as death, and with her hands clasped together, betraying by the workings of herfingers in a kind of convulsive motion, the intensity of her interest. Shehad seen the draught prepared which it was so desirable that Denbighshould take, and it now stood rejected on a table, where it could be seenthrough the open door of his room. Almost breathless, she glided in, andtaking the draught in her hand, she approached the bed, by which sat Johnalone, listening with a feeling of despair to the wanderings of the sickman. Emily hesitated once or twice, as she drew near Denbigh; her face hadlost the paleness of anxiety, and glowed with another emotion. 

"Mr. Denbigh--dear Denbigh. " said Emily, with energy, unconsciouslydropping her voice into the softest notes of persuasion, "will you refuse_me?--me_, Emily Moseley, whose life you have saved?"

"Emily Moseley!" repeated Denbigh, and in those tones so remarkable to hisnatural voice. "Is she safe? I thought she was killed--dead. " Then, as ifrecollecting himself, he gazed intently on her countenance--his eye becameless fiery--his muscles relaxed--he smiled, and took, with the docility ofa well-trained child, the prescribed medicines from her hand. His ideasstill wandered, but his physician, profiting by the command Emilypossessed over his patient, increased his care, and by night the fever hadabated, and before morning the wounded man was in a profound sleep. Duringthe whole day, it was thought necessary to keep Emily by the side of hisbed; but at times it was no trifling tax on her feelings to remain there. He spoke of her by name in the tenderest manner, although incoherently, and in terms that restored to the blanched cheeks of the distressed girlmore than the richness of their native color. His thoughts were notconfined to Emily, however: he talked of his father, of his mother, andfrequently spoke of his poor deserted Marian. The latter name he dwelt onin the language of the warmest affection, condemned his own desertion ofher, and, taking Emily for her, would beg her forgiveness, tell her hersufferings had been enough, and that he would return, and never leave heragain. At such moments his nurse would sometimes show, by the paleness ofher cheeks, her anxiety for his health; and then, as he addressed her byher proper appellation, all her emotions appeared absorbed in the sense ofshame at the praises with which he overwhelmed her. Mrs. Wilson succeededher in the charge of the patient, and she retired to seek that repose sheso greatly needed. 

On the second morning after receiving the wound, Denbigh dropped into adeep sleep, from which he awoke refreshed and perfectly collected in mind. The fever had left him, and his attendants pronounced, with the usualcautions to prevent a relapse, his recovery certain. It were impossible tohave communicated any intelligence more grateful to all the members of theMoseley family; for Jane had even lost sight of her own lover, in sympathyfor the fate of a man who had sacrificed himself to save her belovedsister. 

Chapter XIX. 

The recovery of Denbigh was as rapid as the most sanguine expectation ofhis friends could hope for, and in ten days he left his bed, and would sitan hour or two at a time in his dressing-room, where Mrs. Wilson, accompanied by Jane or Emily, came and read to him; and it was a remark ofSir Edward's gamekeeper, that the woodcocks had become so tame during thetime Mr. Moseley was shut up in attendance on his friend, that CaptainJarvis was at last actually seen to bag one honestly. 

As Jarvis felt something like a consciousness that but for his folly theaccident would not have happened, and also something very like shame forthe manner he had shrunk from the danger Denbigh had so nobly met, hepretended a recall to his regiment, then on duty near London, and left thedeanery. He went off as he came in--in the colonel's tilbury, andaccompanied by his friend and his pointers, John, who saw them pass fromthe windows of Denbigh's dressing-room, fervently prayed he might nevercome back again--the chip-shooting poacher!

Colonel Egerton had taken leave of Jane the evening preceding, with manyassurances of the anxiety with which he should look forward to the momentof their meeting at L----, whither he intended repairing as soon as hiscorps had gone through its annual review. Jane had followed the bent ofher natural feelings too much, during the period of Denbigh's uncertainfate, to think much of her lover, or anything else but her rescued sisterand her preserver; but now the former was pronounced in safety, and thelatter, by the very reaction of her grief, was, if possible, happier thanever, Jane dwelt in melancholy sadness on the perfections of the man whohad taken with him the best affections (as she thought) of her heart. Withhim all was perfect: his morals were unexceptionable; his manners showedit; his tenderness of disposition manifest, for they had wept togetherover the distresses of more than one fictitious heroine; his temper, howamiable! he was never angry--she had never Been it; his opinions, histastes, how correct! they were her own; his form, his face, howagreeable!--her eyes had seen it, and her heart acknowledged it; besides, his eyes confessed the power of her own charms; he was brave, for he was asoldier;--in short, as Emily had predicted, he was a hero--for he wasColonel Egerton. 

Had Jane been possessed of less exuberance of fancy, she might have been alittle at a loss to identify all these good properties with her hero: orhad she possessed a matured or well-regulated judgment to control thatfancy, they might possibly have assumed a different appearance. Noexplanation had taken place between-them, however. Jane knew, both by herown feelings and by all the legends of love from its earliest days, thatthe moment of parting was generally a crisis in affairs of the heart, and, with a backwardness occasioned by her modesty, had rather avoided thansought an opportunity to favor the colonel's wishes. Egerton had no beenover anxious to come to the point, and everything was left as heretofore:neither, however, appeared to doubt in the least the state of the other's'affections; and there might be said to exist between them one of those notunusual engagements by implication which it would have been, in their ownestimation, a breach of faith to recede from, but which, like all otherbargains that are loosely made, are sometimes violated when convenient. Man is a creature that, as experience has sufficiently proved, it isnecessary to keep in his proper place in society by wholesomerestrictions; and we have often thought it a matter of regret that somewell understood regulations did not exist by which it became not onlycustomary, but incumbent on him, to proceed in his road to the temple ofHymen. We know that it is ungenerous, ignoble, almost unprecedented, todoubt the faith, the constancy, of a male paragon; yet, somehow, as thepapers occasionally give us a sample of such infidelity; as we havesometimes seen a solitary female brooding over her woes in silence, and, with the seemliness of feminine decorum shrinking from the discovery ofits cause, or which the grave has revealed for the first time, we cannotbut wish that either the watchfulness of the parent, or a sense ofself-preservation in the daughter, would, for the want of a better, causethem to adhere to those old conventional forms of courtship which requirea man to speak to be understood, and a woman to answer to be committed. 

There was a little parlor in the house of Sir Edward Moseley, that was theprivileged retreat of none but the members of his own family. Here theladies were accustomed to withdraw into the bosom of their domesticquietude, when occasional visitors had disturbed their ordinaryintercourse; and many were the hasty and unreserved communications it hadwitnessed between the sisters, in their stolen flights from the graverscenes of the principal apartments. It might be aid to be sacred to thepious feelings of the domestic affections. Sir Edward would retire to itwhen fatigued with his occupations, certain of finding some one of thosehe loved to draw his thoughts off from the cares of life to the littleincidents of his children's happiness; and Lady Moseley, even in theproudest hours of her reviving splendor, seldom passed the door withoutlooking in, with a smile, on the faces she might find there. It was, infact, the room in the large mansion of the baronet, expressly devoted, bylong usage and common consent, to the purest feelings of human nature. Into this apartment Denbigh had gained admission, as the one nearest tohis own room and requiring the least effort of his returning strength toreach; and, perhaps, by an undefinable feeling of the Moseleys which hadbegun to connect him with themselves, partly from his winning manners, andpartly by the sense of the obligation he had laid them under. 

One warm day, John and his friend had sought this retreat, in expectationof meeting his sisters, who they found, however, on inquiry, had walked tothe arbor. After remaining conversing for an hour by themselves, John wascalled away to attend to a pointer that had been taken ill, and Denbighthrowing a handkerchief over his head to guard against the danger of cold, quietly composed himself on one of the comfortable sofas of the room, witha disposition to sleep. Before he had entirely lost his consciousness, alight step moving near him, caught his ear; believing it to be a servantunwilling to disturb him, he endeavored to continue in his present mood, until the quick but stifled breathing of some one nearer than beforeroused his curiosity. He commanded himself, however, sufficiently, toremain quiet; a blind of a window near him was carefully closed; a screendrawn from a corner and placed so as sensibly to destroy the slightdraught of air in which he laid himself; and other arrangements weremaking, but with a care to avoid disturbing him that rendered them hardlyaudible. Presently the step approached him again, the breathing wasquicker, though gentle, the handkerchief was moved, but the hand was withdrawn hastily as if afraid of itself. Another effort was successful, andDenbigh stole a glance through his dark lashes, on the figure of Emily asshe-stood over him in the fulness of her charms, and with a face in whichglowed an interest he had never witnessed in it before. It undoubtedly was_gratitude_. For a moment she gazed on him, as her color increased inrichness. His hand was carelessly thrown over an arm of the sofa; shestooped towards it with her face gently, but with an air of modesty thatshone in her very figure. Denbigh felt the warmth of her breath, but herlips did not touch it. Had he been inclined to judge the actions of EmilyMoseley harshly, it were impossible to mistake the movement for anythingbut the impulse of natural feeling. There was a pledge of innocence, ofmodesty in her countenance, that would have prevented any misconstruction;and he continued quietly awaiting what the preparations on her littlemahogany secretary were intended for. 

Mrs. Wilson entertained a great abhorrence of what is commonly calledaccomplishments in a woman; she knew that too much of that precious timewhich could never be recalled, was thrown away in endeavoring to acquire asmattering in what, if known, could never be of use to the party, and whatcan never be well known but to a few, whom nature and long practice haveenabled to conquer. Yet as her niece had early manifested a taste forpainting, and a vivid perception of the beauties of nature, herinclination had been indulged, and Emily Moseley sketched with neatnessand accuracy, and with great readiness. It would have been no subject ofsurprise, had admiration, or some more powerful feeling, betrayed to theartist, on this occasion, the deception the young man was practising. Shehad entered the room from her walk, warm and careless; her hair, thanwhich none was more beautiful, had strayed on her shoulders, freed, fromthe confinement of the comb, and a lock was finely contrasted to the richcolor of a cheek that almost burnt with the exercise and the excitement. Her dress, white as the first snow of the winter; her looks, as she nowturned them on the face of the sleeper, and betrayed by their animationthe success of her art; formed a picture in itself, that Denbigh wouldhave been content to gaze on for ever. Her back was to a window that threwits strong light on the paper--the figures of which were reflected, as sheoccasionally held it up to study its effect, in a large mirror so placedthat Denbigh caught a view of her subject. He knew it at a glance--thearbor--the gun--himself, all were there; it appeared to have been drawnbefore--it must have been, from its perfect state, and Emily had seized afavorable moment to complete his own resemblance. Her touches were lightand finishing, and as the picture was frequently held up forconsideration, he had some time allowed for studying it. His ownresemblance was strong; his eyes were turned on herself, to whom Denbighthought she had not done ample justice, but the man who held the gun boreno likeness to John Moseley, except in dress. A slight movement of themuscles of the sleeper's mouth might have betrayed his consciousness, hadnot Emily been too intent on the picture, as she turned it in such a waythat a strong light fell on the recoiling figure of Captain Jarvis. Theresemblance was wonderful. Denbigh thought he would have known it, had heseen it in the Academy itself. The noise of some one approaching closedthe portfolio; it was only a servant, yet Emily did not resume her pencil. Denbigh watched her motions, as she put the picture carefully in a privatedrawer of the secretary, reopened the blind, replaced the screen, and laidthe handkerchief, the last thing on his face, with a movement almostimperceptible to himself. 

"It is later than I thought, " said Denbigh, looking at his watch; "I owean apology, Miss Moseley, for making so free with your parlor; but I wastoo lazy to move. "

"Apology! Mr. Denbigh, " cried Emily, with a color varying with every wordshe spoke, and trembling at what she thought the nearness of detection, "you have no apology to make for your present debility; and surely, surely, least of all to me!"

"I understand from Mr. Moseley, " continued Denbigh, with a smile, "thatour obligation is at least mutual; to your, perseverance and care, MissMoseley, after the physicians had given me up, I believe I am, underProvidence, indebted for my recovery. "

Emily was not vain, and least of all addicted to a display of any of heracquirements; very few even of her friends knew she ever held a pencil inher hand; yet did she now unaccountably throw open her portfolio, andoffer its contents to the examination of her companion. It was done almostinstantaneously, and with great freedom, though not without certainflushings of the face and heavings of the bosom, that would have eclipsedGrace Chatterton in her happiest moments of natural flattery. Whatevermight have been the wishes of Mr. Denbigh to pursue a subject which hadbegun to grow extremely interesting, both from its import and thefeelings' of the parties, it would have been rude to decline viewing thecontents of a lady's portfolio. The drawings were, many of them, interesting, and the exhibitor of them now appeared as anxious to removethem in haste, as she had but the moment before been to direct hisattention to her performances. Denbigh would have given much to dare toask for the paper so carefully secreted in the private drawer; but neitherthe principal agency he had himself in the scene, nor delicacy to hiscompanion's wish for concealment, would allow of the request. 

"Doctor Ives! how happy I am to see you, " said Emily, hastily closing herportfolio, and before Denbigh had gone half through its contents; "youhave become almost a stranger to us since Clara left us. "

"No, no, my little friend, never a stranger, I hope, at Moseley Hall, "cried the doctor, pleasantly; "George, I am happy to see you look sowell--you have even a color--there is a letter for you, from Marian. "

Denbigh took the letter eagerly, and retired to a window to peruse it. Hishand shook as he broke the seal, and his interest in the writer, or itscontents, could not have escaped the notice of any observer, howeverindifferent. 

"Now, Miss Emily, if you will have the goodness to order me a glass ofwine and water after my ride, believe me, you will do a very charitableact, " cried the doctor, as he took his seat on the sofa. 

Emily was standing by the little table, deeply musing on the contents ofher portfolio; for her eyes were intently fixed on the outside, as if sheexpected to see through the leather covering their merits and faults. 

"Miss Emily Moseley, " continued the doctor, gravely, "am I to die ofthirst or not, this warm day?"

"Do you wish anything, Doctor Ives?"

"A servant to get me a glass of wine and water. "

"Why did you not ask me, my dear sir?" said Emily, as she threw open acellaret, and handed him what he wanted. 

"There, my dear, there is a great plenty, " said the doctor, with an archexpression; "I really thought I had asked you thrice--but I believe youwere studying something in that portfolio. "

Emily blushed, and endeavored to laugh at her own absence of mind; but shewould have given the world to know who Marian was. 

Chapter XX. 

As a month had elapsed since he received his wound, Denbigh took anopportunity, one morning at breakfast, where he was well enough now tomeet his friends, to announce his intention of trespassing no longer ontheir kindness, but of returning that day to the rectory. Thecommunication distressed the whole family, and the baronet turned to himin the most cordial manner, as he took one of his hands; and said with anair of solemnity--

"Mr. Denbigh, I could wish you to make this house your home; Dr. Ives mayhave known you longer, and may have the claim of relationship on you, butI am certain he cannot love you better; and are not the ties of gratitudeas binding as those of blood?"

Denbigh was affected by the kindness of Sir Edward's manner. 

"The regiment I belong to, Sir Edward, will be reviewed next week, and ithas become my duty to leave here; there is one it is proper I shouldvisit, a near connexion, who is acquainted with the escape I have metwith, and wishes naturally to see me; besides, my dear Sir Edward, she hasmany causes of sorrow, and it is a debt I owe her affection to endeavor torelieve them. "

It was the first time he had ever spoken of his family, or hardly ofhimself, and the silence which prevailed plainly showed the interest hislisteners took in the little he uttered. 

That connexion, thought Emily--I wonder if her name be Marian? But nothingfurther passed, excepting the affectionate regrets of her father, and thepromises of Denbigh to visit them again before he left B----, and ofjoining them at L---- immediately after the review of which he had spoken. As soon as he had breakfasted, John drove him in his phaeton to therectory. 

Mrs. Wilson, like the rest of the baronet's family, had been too deeplyimpressed with the debt they owed this young man to interfere with herfavorite system of caution against too great an intimacy between her nieceand her preserver. Close observation and the opinion of Dr. Ives hadprepared her to give him her esteem; but the gallantry, the self-devotionhe had displayed to Emily was an act calculated to remove heavierobjections than she could imagine as likely to exist to his becoming herhusband. That he meant it, was evident from his whole deportment of late. Since the morning the portfolio was produced, Denbigh had given a moredecided preference to her niece. The nice discrimination of Mrs, Wilsonwould not have said his feelings had become stronger, but that he laboredless to conceal them. That he loved her niece she suspected from the firstfortnight of their acquaintance, and it had given additional stimulus toher investigation into his character; but to doubt it, after steppingbetween her and death, would have been to have mistaken human nature. There was one qualification she would have wished to have been certain hepossessed: before this accident, she would have made it an indispensableone; but the gratitude, the affections of Emily, she believed now to betab deeply engaged to make the strict inquiry she otherwise would havedone; and she had the best of reasons for believing that if Denbigh werenot a true Christian, he was at least a strictly moral man, and assuredlyone who well understood the beauties of a religion she almost conceived itimpossible for any impartial and intelligent man long to resist. PerhapsMrs. Wilson, having in some measure interfered with her system, likeothers, had, on finding it impossible to conduct so that reason wouldjustify all she did, began to find reasons for what she thought best to bedone under the circumstances. Denbigh, however, both by his acts and hisopinions, had created such an estimate of his worth in the breast of Mrs. Wilson, that there would have been but little danger of a repulse had nofortuitous accident helped him in his way to her favor. 

"Who have we here?" said Lady Moseley. "A landaulet and four--the Earl ofBolton, I declare!"

Lady Moseley turned from the window with that collected grace she so wellloved, and so well knew how to assume, to receive her noble visitor. LordBolton was a bachelor of sixty-five, who had long been attached to thecourt, and retained much of the manners of the old school. His principalestate was in Ireland, and most of that time which his duty at Windsor didnot require he gave to the improvement of his Irish property. Thus, although on perfectly good terms with the baronet's family, they seldommet. With General Wilson he had been at college, and to his widow healways showed much of that regard he had invariably professed for herhusband, The obligation he had conferred, unasked, on Francis Ives, wasone conferred on all his friends, and his reception was now warmer thanusual. 

"My Lady Moseley, " said the earl, bowing formally on her hand, "your looksdo ample justice to the air of Northamptonshire. I hope you enjoy yourusual health. "

Then, waiting her equally courteous answer, he paid his compliments, insuccession, to all the members of the family; a mode undoubtedly welladapted to discover their several conditions, but not a little tedious inits operations, and somewhat tiresome to the legs. 

"We are under a debt of gratitude to your lordship, " said Sir Edward, inhis simple and warm-hearted way, "that I am sorry it is not in our powerto repay more amply than by our thanks. "

The earl was, or affected to be, surprised, as he required an explanation. 

"The living at Bolton, " said Lady Moseley, with dignity. 

"Yes, " continued her husband; "in giving the living to Frank you did me afavor, equal to what you would have done had he been my own child; andunsolicited, too, my lord, it was an additional compliment. "

The earl sat rather uneasy during this speech, but the love of truthprevailed; for he had been too much round the person of our belovedsovereign not to retain all the impressions of his youth; and after alittle struggle with his self-love, he answered--

"Not unsolicited, Sir Edward. I have no doubt, had nay better fortuneallowed me the acquaintance of my present rector, his own merit would haveobtained what a sense of justice requires I should say was granted to anapplicant to whom the ear of royalty itself would not have been deaf. "

It was the turn of the Moseleys now to look surprised, and Sir Edwardventured to ask an explanation. 

"It was my cousin, the Earl of Pendennyss, who applied for it, as a favordone to himself; and Pendennyss is a man not to be refused anything. "

"Lord Pendennyss!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, with animation; "and in what waycame we to be under this obligation to Lord Pendennyss?"

"He did me the honor of a call during my visit to Ireland, madam, " repliedthe earl; "and on inquiring of my steward after his old friend, DoctorStevens, learnt his death, and the claims of Mr. Ives; but the reason hegave _me_ was his interest in the widow of General Wilson, " bowing withmuch solemnity to the lady as he spoke. 

"I am gratified to find the earl yet remembers us, " said Mrs. Wilson, struggling to restrain her tears. "Are we to have the pleasure of seeinghim soon?"

"I received a letter from him yesterday, saying he should be here in allnext week, madam. " And turning pleasantly to Jane and her sister, hecontinued, "Sir Edward, you have here rewards fit for heavier services, and the earl is a great admirer of female charms. "

"Is he not married, my lord?" asked the baronet, with great simplicity. 

"No, baronet, nor engaged; but how long he will remain so after hishardihood in venturing into this neighborhood, will, I trust, depend onone of these young ladies. "

Jane looked grave--for trifling on love was heresy, in her estimation; butEmily laughed, with an expression in which a skilful physiognomist mighthave read--if he means me, he is mistaken. 

"Your cousin, Lord Chatterton, has found interest, Sir Edward, " continuedthe peer, "to obtain his father's situation; and if reports speak truth, he wishes to become more nearly related to you, baronet. "

"I do not well see how that can happen, " said Sir Edward with a smile, andwho had not art enough to conceal his thoughts, "unless he takes my sisterhere. "

The cheeks of both the young ladies now vied with the rose; and the peer, observing he had touched on forbidden ground, added, "Chatterton wasfortunate to find friends able to bear up against the powerful interest ofLord Haverford. "

"To whom was he indebted for the place, my lord?" asked Mis. Wilson. 

"It was whispered at court, madam, " said the earl, sensibly lowering hisvoice, and speaking with an air of mystery "and a lord of the bed-chamberis fonder of discoveries than a lord of the council--that His Grace ofDerwent threw the whole of his parliamentary interest into the scale onthe baron's side, but you are not to suppose, " raising his handgracefully, with a wave of rejection, "that I speak from authority; only asurmise, Sir Edward, only a surmise, my lady. "

"Is not the name of the Duke of Derwent, Denbigh?" inquired Mrs. Wilson, with a thoughtful manner. 

"Certainly, madam, Denbigh, " replied the earl, with a gravity with whichhe always spoke of dignities; "one of our most ancient names, anddescended on the female side from the Plantagenets and Tudors. "

He now rose to take his leave, and on bowing to the younger ladies, laughingly repeated his intention of bringing his cousin (an epithet henever omitted), Pendennyss, to their feet. 

"Do you think, sister, " said Lady Moseley, after the earl had retired, "that Mr. Denbigh is of the house of Derwent?"

"I cannot say, " replied Mrs. Wilson, musing, "yet it is odd, Chattertontold me of his acquaintance with Lady Harriet Denbigh, but not with theDuke. "

As this was spoken in the manner of a soliloquy, it received no answer, and was in fact but little attended to by any of the party, exceptingEmily, who glanced her eye once or twice at her aunt as she was speaking, with an interest the name of Denbigh never failed to excite. Harriet was, she thought, a pretty name, but Marian was a prettier; if, thought Emily, I could know a Marian Denbigh, I am sure I could love her, and her nametoo. 

The Moseleys now began to make their preparations for their departure toL----, and the end of the succeeding week was fixed for the period atwhich they were to go. Mrs. Wilson urged a delay of two or three days, inorder to give her an opportunity of meeting with the Earl of Pendennyss, ayoung man in whom, although she had relinquished her former romantic wishof uniting him to Emily, in favor of Denbigh, she yet felt a deepinterest, growing out of his connexion with the last moments of herhusband, and, his uniformly high character. 

Sir Edward accordingly acquainted his uncle, that on the followingSaturday he might expect to receive himself and family, intending to leavethe hall in the afternoon of the preceding day, and reach Benfield lodgeto dinner. This arrangement once made, and Mr. Benfield notified of it, was unalterable, the old man holding a variation from an engagement adeadly sin. The week succeeding the accident which had nearly proved sofatal to Denbigh, the inhabitants of the hall were surprised with theapproach of a being, as singular in his manners and dress as the equipagewhich conveyed him to the door of the house. The latter consisted of ahigh-backed, old-fashioned sulky, loaded with leather and large-headedbrass nails; wheels at least a quarter larger in circumference than thoseof the present day, and wings on each side large enough to have supporteda full grown roc in the highest regions of the upper air. It was drawn bya horse, once white, but whose milky hue was tarnished through age withlarge and numerous red spots, and whose mane and tail did not appear tohave suffered by the shears during the present reign. The being whoalighted from this antiquated vehicle was tall and excessively thin, worehis own hair drawn over his almost naked head into a long thin queue, which reached half way down his back, closely cased in numerous windingsof leather, or the skin of some fish. His drab coat was in shape between afrock and a close-body--close-body, indeed, it was; for the buttons, whichwere in size about equal to an old-fashioned China saucer, were buttonedto the very throat, thereby setting off his shape to peculiar advantage;his breeches were buckskin, and much soiled; his stockings blue yarn, although it was midsummer; and his shoes were provided with buckles ofdimensions proportionate to the aforesaid buttons; his age might have beenseventy, but his walk was quick, and the movements of his whole systemshowed great activity both of mind and body. He was ushered into the roomwhere the gentlemen were sitting, and having made a low and extremelymodest bow, he deliberately put on his spectacles, thrust his hand into anoutside pocket of his coat, and produced from under its huge flaps a blackleathern pocket-book about as large as a good-sized octavo volume; afterexamining the multitude of papers it contained carefully, he selected aletter, and having returned the pocket-book to its ample apartment, readaloud, "For Sir Edward Moseley, bart. Of Moseley Hall, B----, Northamptonshire--with care and speed, by the hands of Mr. Peter Johnson, steward of Benfield Lodge, Norfolk;" and dropping his sharp voice, hestalked up to the baronet, and presented the epistle, with anotherreverence. 

"Ah, my good friend, Johnson, " said Sir Edward as soon as he delivered hiserrand (for until he saw the contents of the letter, he had thought someaccident had occurred to his uncle), "this is the first visit you haveever honored me with; come, take a glass of wine before you go to yourdinner; let us drink, that it may not be the last. "

"Sir Edward Moseley, and you, honorable gentlemen, will pardon me, "replied the steward, in his own solemn key, "this is the first time I wasever out of his majesty's county of Norfolk, and I devoutly wish it mayprove the last--Gentlemen, I drink your honorable healths. "

This was the only real speech the old man made during his visit, unless anoccasional monosyllabic reply to a question could be thought so. Heremained, by Sir Edward' positive order, until the following day; forhaving delivered his message, and receiving its answer, he was about totake his departure that evening, thinking he might get a good piece on hisroad homewards, as it wanted half an hour to sunset. On the followingmorning, with the sun, he was on his way to the house in which he had beenborn, and which he had never left for twenty-four hours at a time in hislife. In the evening, as he was ushered in by John (who had known him fromhis own childhood, and loved to show him attention) to the room in whichhe was to sleep, he broke what the young man called his inveteratesilence, with, "Young Mr. Moseley--young gentleman--might I presume--toask--to see the gentleman?"

"What gentleman?" cried John, astonished at the request, and at hisspeaking so much. 

"That saved Miss Emmy's life, sir. "

John now fully comprehended him, and led the way to Denbigh's room; he wasasleep, but they were admitted to his bed-side. The steward stood for tenminutes gazing on the sleeper in silence; and John observed, as he blewhis nose on regaining his own apartment, that his little grey eyestwinkled with a lustre which could not be taken for anything but a tear. 

As the letter was as characteristic of the writer as its bearer was of hisvocation, we may be excused giving it at length. 

_"Dear Sir Edward and Nephew_, "Your letter reached the lodge too late to be answered that evening, as Iwas about to step into my bed; but I hasten to write my congratulations, remembering the often repeated maxim of my kinsman Lord Gosford, thatletters should be answered immediately; indeed, a neglect of it had verynigh brought about an affair of honor between the earl and Sir StephensHallett. Sir Stephens was always opposed to us in the House of Commons ofthis realm; and I have often thought something might have passed in thedebate itself, which commenced the correspondence, as the earl certainlytold him as much as if he were a traitor to his King and country. 

"But it seems that your daughter Emily has been rescued from death by thegrandson of General Denbigh, who sat with us in the house. Now I alwayshad a good opinion of this young Denbigh, who reminds me, every time Ilook at him, of my late brother, your father-in-law that was; and I sendmy steward, Peter Johnson, express to the hall in order that he may seethe sick man, and bring me back a true account how he fares: for should hebe wanting for anything within the gift of Roderic Benfield, he has onlyto speak to have it; not that I suppose, nephew, you will willingly allowhim to suffer for anything, but Peter is a man of close observation, although he is of few words, and may suggest something beneficial, thatmight escape younger heads. I pray for--that is, I hope, the young manwill recover, as your letter gives great hopes; and if he should want anylittle matter to help him along in the army, as I take it he is not overwealthy, you have now a good opportunity to offer your assistancehandsomely; and that it may not interfere with your arrangements for thiswinter, your draft on me for five thousand pounds will be paid at sight;for fear he may be proud, and not choose to accept your assistance, I havethis morning detained Peter, while he has put a codicil to my will, leaving him ten thousand pounds. You may tell Emily she is a naughtychild, or she would have written me the whole story; but, poor dear, Isuppose she has other things on her mind just now. God bless Mr. ---- thatis, God bless, you all, and try if you cannot get a lieutenant-colonelcyat once--the brother of Lady Juliana's friend was made alieutenant-colonel at the first step. 

"RODERIC BENFIELD. "

The result of Peter's reconnoitering expedition has never reached ourknowledge, unless the arrival of a servant some days after he took hisleave, with a pair of enormous-goggles, and which the old gentlemanassured his nephew in a note, both Peter and himself had found useful toweak eyes in their occasional sickness, might have been owing to theprudent forecast of the sagacious steward. 

Chapter XXI. 

The morning on which Denbigh-left B---- was a melancholy one to all themembers of the little circle, in which he had been so distinguished forhis modesty, his intelligence, and his disinterested intrepidity. SirEdward took an opportunity solemnly to express his gratitude for theservices he had rendered him, and having retired to his library, delicately and earnestly pressed his availing himself of the liberal offerof Mr. Benfield to advance his interest in the army. 

"Look upon me, my dear Mr. Denbigh, " said the good baronet, pressing himby the hand, while the tears stood in his eyes, "as a father, to supplythe place of the one you have so recently lost. You _are_ my child; I feelas a parent to you, and must be suffered to act as one. "

To this affectionate offer of Sir Edward, Denbigh replied with an emotionequal to that of the baronet, though he declined, with respectfullanguage, his offered assistance as unnecessary. He had friends powerfulenough to advance his interests, without resorting to the use of money;and on taking Sir Edward's hand, as he left the apartment, he added withgreat warmth, "yet, my dear Sir, the day will come, I hope, when I shallask a boon from your hands, that no act of mine or a life of service couldentitle me to receive. "

The baronet smiled his assent to a request he already understood, andDenbigh withdrew. 

John Moseley insisted on putting the bays in requisition to carry Denbighfor the first stage, and they now stood caparisoned for the jaunt, withtheir master in a less joyous mood than common, waiting the appearance ofhis companion. 

Emily delighted in their annual excursion to Benfield Lodge. She wasbeloved so warmly, and returned the affection of its owner so sincerely, that the arrival of the day never failed to excite that flow of spiritswhich generally accompanies anticipated pleasures, ere experience hasproved how trifling are the greatest enjoyments the scenes of this lifebestow. Yet as the day of their departure drew near, her spirits sunk inproportion; and on the morning of Denbigh's leave-taking, Emily seemedanything but excessively happy. There was a tremor in her voice and aredness about her eyes that alarmed Lady Moseley; but as the paleness ofher cheeks was immediately succeeded by as fine a color as the heart couldwish, the anxious mother allowed herself to be persuaded by Mrs. Wilsonthere was no danger, and she accompanied her sister to her own room forsome purpose of domestic economy. It was at this moment Denbigh entered:he had paid his adieus to the matrons at the door, and been directed bythem to the little parlor in quest of Emily. 

"I have come to make my parting compliments, Miss Moseley, " he said, in atremulous voice, as he ventured to hold forth his hand. "May heavenpreserve you, " he continued, holding it in fervor to his bosom: thendropping it, he hastily retired, as if unwilling to trust himself anylonger to utter all he felt. Emily stood a few moments, pale and almostinanimate, as the tears flowed rapidly from her eyes; and then she soughta shelter in a seat of the window. Lady Moseley, on returning, was alarmedlest the draught would increase her indisposition; but her sister, observing that the window commanded a view of the road, thought the airtoo mild to do her injury. 

The personages who composed the society at B---- had now, in a greatmeasure, separated, in pursuit of their duties or their pleasures. Themerchant and his family left the deanery for a watering-place. Francis andClara had gone on a little tour of pleasure in the northern counties, totake L---- in their return homeward; and the morning arrived for thecommencement of the baronet's journey to the same place. The carriages hadbeen ordered, and servants were running in various ways, busily employedin their several occupations, when Mrs. Wilson, accompanied by John andhis sisters, returned from a walk they had taken to avoid the bustle ofthe house. A short distance from the park gates, an equipage was observedapproaching, creating by its numerous horses and attendants a dust whichdrove the pedestrians to one side of the road. An uncommonly elegant andadmirably fitted travelling barouche and six rolled by, with the gracefulsteadiness of an English equipage: several servants on horseback were inattendance; and our little party were struck with the beauty of the whole_establishment_. 

"Can it be possible Lord Bolton drives such elegant horses?" cried John, with the ardor of a connoisseur in that noble animal. "They are the finestset in the kingdom. "

Jane's eye had seen, through the clouds of dust, the armorial bearings, which seemed to float in the dark glossy panels of the carriage, and sheobserved, "It is an earl's coronet, but they are not the Bolton arms. "Mrs. Wilson and Emily had noticed a gentleman reclining at his ease, asthe owner of the gallant show; but its passage was too rapid to enablethem to distinguish the features of the courteous old earl; indeed, Mrs. Wilson remarked, she thought him a younger man than her friend. 

"Pray, sir, " said John to a tardy groom, as he civilly walked his horseby the ladies, "who has passed in the barouche?"

"My Lord Pendennyss, sir. "

"Pendennyss!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, with a tone of regret, "howunfortunate!"

She had seen the day named for his visit pass without his arrival, andnow, as it was too late to profit by the opportunity, he had come for thesecond time into her neighborhood Emily had learnt, by the solicitude ofher aunt, to take an interest in the young peer's movements, and desiredJohn to ask a question or two of the groom. 

"Where does your lord stop to-night?"

"At Bolton Castle, sir; and I heard my lord tell his valet that heintended staying one day hereabouts, and the day after to-morrow he goesto Wales, your honor. "

"I thank you, friend, " said John; when the man spurred his horse after thecavalcade. The carriages were at the door, and Sir Edward had beenhurrying Jane to enter, as a servant, in a rich livery and well mounted, galloped up and delivered a letter for Mrs. Wilson, who, on opening it, read the following:

"The Earl of Pendennyss begs leave to present his most respectfulcompliments to Mrs. Wilson and the family of Sir Edward Moseley. LordPendennyss will have the honor of paying his respects in person at anymoment that the widow of his late invaluable friend, Lieutenant-GeneralWilson, will please to appoint. 

"Bolton Castle, Friday evening. "

To this note Mrs. Wilson, bitterly regretting the necessity whichcompelled her to forego the pleasure of meeting her paragon, wrote inreply a short letter, disliking the formality of a note. 

"My LORD, "I sincerely regret that an engagement which cannot be postponed compelsus to leave Moseley Hall within the hour, and must, in consequence, deprive us of the pleasure of your intended visit. But as circumstanceshave connected your Lordship with some of the dearest, although the mostmelancholy events of my life, I earnestly beg you will no longer considerus as strangers to your person, as we have long ceased to be to yourcharacter. It will afford me the greatest pleasure to hear that there willbe a prospect of our meeting in town next winter, where I may find a morefitting opportunity of expressing those grateful feelings so long due toyour lordship from your sincere friend, "CHARLOTTE WILSON. 

"Moseley Hall, Friday morning. "

With this answer the servant was despatched, and the carriages moved on. John had induced Emily to trust herself once more to the bays and hisskill; but on perceiving the melancholy of her aunt, she insisted onexchanging seats with Jane, who had accepted a place in the carriage ofMrs. Wilson. No objection being made, Mrs. Wilson and her niece rode thefirst afternoon together in her travelling chaise. The road run within aquarter of a mile of Bolton Castle, and the ladies endeavored in vain toget a glimpse of the person of the young nobleman. Emily was willing togratify her aunt's propensity to dwell on the character and history of herfavorite; and hoping to withdraw her attention gradually from moreunpleasant recollections, asked several trifling questions relating tothose points. 

"The earl must be very rich, aunt, from the style he maintains. "

"Very, my dear; his family I am unacquainted with, but I understand histitle is an extremely ancient one; and some one, I believe Lord Bolton, mentioned that his estates in Wales alone, exceeded fifty thousand ayear. "

"Much good might be done, " said Emily, thoughtfully, "with such afortune. "

"Much good _is_ done, " cried her aunt, with fervor. "I am told by everyone who knows him, his donations are large and frequent. Sir HerbertNicholson said he was extremely simple in his habits, and it leaves largesums at his disposal every year. "

"The bestowal of money is not always charity, " said Emily, with an archsmile and a slight color. 

Mrs. Wilson smiled in her turn as she answered, "not always, but it ischarity to hope for the best. "

"Sir Herbert knew him, then?" said Emily. 

"Perfectly well; they were associated together in the service for severalyears, and he spoke of him with a fervor equal to my warmestexpectations. "

The Moseley arms in F---- was kept by an old butler of the family, and SirEdward every year, in going to or coming from L----, spent a night underits roof. He was received by its master with a respect that none who everknew the baronet well, could withhold from his goodness of heart and manyvirtues. 

"Well, Jackson, " said the baronet, kindly, as he was seated at the suppertable, "how does custom increase with you--I hope you and the master ofthe Dun Cow are more amicable than formerly. "

"Why, Sir Edward, " replied the host, who had lost a little of thedeference of the servant in the landlord, but none of his real respect, "Mr. Daniels and I are more upon a footing of late than we was, when yourgoodness enabled me to take the house; then he got all the greattravellers, and for more than a twelvemonth I had not a title in my housebut yourself and a great London doctor, that was called here to see a sickperson in the town. He had the impudence to call me the knightbarrow-knight, your honor, and we had a quarrel upon that account. "

"I am glad, however, to find you are gaining in the rank of yourcustomers, and trust, as the occasion has ceased, you will be moreinclined to be good-natured to each other. "

"Why, as to good-nature, Sir Edward, I lived with your honor ten years, and you must know somewhat of my temper, " said Jackson, with theself-satisfaction of an approving conscience; "but Sam Daniels is a manwho is never easy unless he is left quietly at the top of the ladder;however, " continued the host, with a chuckle, "I have given him a doselately. "

"How so, Jackson?" inquired the baronet, willing to gratify the man's wishto relate his triumphs. 

"Your honor must have heard mention made of a great lord, the Duke ofDerwent; well, Sir Edward, about six weeks agone he passed through with myLord Chatterton. "

"Chatterton!" exclaimed John, interrupting him, "has he been so near usagain, and so lately?"

"Yes, Mr. Moseley, " replied Jackson with a look of importance: "theydashed into my yard with their chaise and four, with five servants, andwould you think it, Sir Edward, they hadn't been in the house ten minutes, before Daniels son was fishing from the servants, who they were; I toldhim, Sir Edward--dukes don't come every day. "

"How came you to get his grace away from the Dun Cow--chance?"

"No, your honor, " said the host, pointing to his sign, and bowingreverently to his old master, "the Moseley Arms did it. Mr. Daniels usedto taunt me with having worn a livery, and has said more than once hecould milk his cow, but that your honor's arms would never lift me into acomfortable seat for life; so I just sent him a message by the way ofletting him know my good fortune, your honor. "

"And what was it?"

"Only that your honor's arms had shoved a duke and a baron into myhouse--that's all. "

"And I suppose Daniels' legs shoved your messenger out of his, " said John, laughing. 

"No, Mr. Moseley; Daniels would hardly dare do that but yesterday, yourhonor, yesterday evening, beat everything. Daniels was seated before hisdoor, and I was taking a pipe at mine, Sir Edward, as a coach and six, with servants upon servants, drove down the street; it got near us, andthe boys were reining the horses into the yard of the Dun Cow, as thegentleman in the coach saw my sign: he sent a groom to inquire who keptthe house; I got up, your honor, and told him my name, sir. 'Mr. Jackson, 'said his lordship, 'my respect for the family of Sir Edward Moseley is toogreat not to give my custom to an old servant of his family. '"

"Indeed, " said the baronet; "pray who was my lord?"

"The Earl of Pendennyss, your honor. Oh, he is a sweet gentleman, and heasked all about my living with your honor, and about Madam Wilson. "

"Did his lordship stay the night?" inquired Mrs. Wilson, excessivelygratified at a discovery of the disposition manifested by the earl towardsher. 

"Yes, madam, he left here after breakfast. "

"What message did you send the Dun Cow this time, Jackson?" cried John. 

Jackson looked a little foolish, but the question being repeated, heanswered--"Why, sir, I was a little crowded for room, and so your honor, so I just sent Tom across the street, to know if Mr. Daniels couldn't keepa couple of the grooms. "

"And Tom got his head broke. "

"No, Mr. John, the tankard missed him; but if--"

"Very well, " said the baronet, willing to change the conversation, "youhave been so fortunate of late, you can afford to be generous; and Iadvise you to cultivate harmony with your neighbor, or I may take my armsdown, and you may lose your noble visiters--see my room prepared. "

"Yes, your honor, " said the host, and bowing respectfully he withdrew. 

"At least, aunt, " cried John, pleasantly, "we have the pleasure of suppingin the same room with the puissant earl, albeit there be twenty-fourhours' difference in the time. "

"I sincerely wish there had not been that difference, " observed hisfather, taking his sister kindly by the hand. 

"Such an equipage must have been a harvest indeed to Jackson, " remarkedthe mother; as they broke up for the evening. 

The whole establishment at Benfield Lodge, were drawn up to receive themon the following day in the great hall, and in the centre was fixed theupright and lank figure of its master, with his companion in leanness, honest Peter Johnson, on his right. 

"I have made out, Sir Edward and my Lady Moseley, to get as far as myentrance, to receive the favor you are conferring upon me. It was a rulein my day, and one invariably practised by all the great nobility, such asLord Gosford--and--and--his sister, the lady Juliana Dayton, always toreceive and quit their guests in the country at the great entrance; and inconformity--ah, Emmy dear, " cried the old gentleman, folding her in hisarms as the tears rolled down his cheeks, forgetting his speech in thewarmth of his feeling, "You are saved to us again; God be praised--there, that will do, let me breathe--let me breathe;" and then by the way ofgetting rid of his softer feelings, he turned upon John; "so, youngster, you would be playing with edge tools, and put the life of your sister indanger. No gentleman held a gun in my day; that is, no gentleman about thecourt. My Lord Gosford had never killed a bird in his life, or drove hishorse; no sir, gentlemen then were not coachmen. Peter how old was Ibefore I took the reins of the chaise, in driving round the estate--thetime you broke your arm? it was--"

Peter, who stood a little behind his master, in modest retirement, and whohad only thought his elegant form brought thither to embellish the show, when called upon, advanced a step, made a low bow, and answered in hissharp key:

"In the year 1798, your honor, and the 38th of his present majesty, andthe 64th year of your life, sir, June the 12th, about meridian. "

Peter dropped back as he finished; but recollecting himself, regained hisplace with a bow, as he added, "new style. "

"How are you, old style?" cried John, with a slap on the back, that madethe steward jump again. 

"Mr. John Moseley--young gentleman"--a term Peter had left off using tothe baronet within the last ten years, "did you think--to bring home--thegoggles?"

"Oh yes, " said John, gravely, producing them from his pocket. Most of theparty having entered the parlor, he put them carefully on the bald head ofthe steward--"There, Mr Peter Johnson, you have your property again, safeand sound. "

"And Mr. Denbigh said he felt much indebted to your consideration insending them, " said Emily, soothingly, as she took them off with herbeautiful hands. 

"Ah, Miss Emmy, " said the steward, with one of his best bows, "that was--anoble act; God bless him!" then holding up his finger significantly, "thefourteenth codicil--to master's will, " and Peter laid his finger alongsidehis nose, as he nodded his head in silence. 

"I hope the thirteenth contains the name of honest Peter Johnson, " saidthe young lady, who felt herself uncommonly well pleased with thesteward's conversation. 

"As witness, Miss Emmy--witness to all--but God forbid, " said the stewardwith solemnity, "I should ever live to see the proving of them: no, MissEmmy, master has done for me what he intended, while I had youth to enjoyit. I am rich, Miss Emmy--good three hundred a year. " Emily, who hadseldom heard so long a speech as the old man's gratitude drew from him, expressed her pleasure at hearing it, and shaking him kindly by the hand, left him for the parlor. 

"Niece, " said Mr. Benfield, having scanned the party closely with hiseyes, "where is Colonel Denbigh?"

"Colonel Egerton, you mean, sir, " interrupted Lady Moseley. 

"No, my Lady Moseley, " replied her uncle, with great formality, "I meanColonel Denbigh. I take it he is a colonel by this time, " lookingexpressively at the baronet; "and who is fitter to be a colonel or ageneral, than a man who is not afraid of gunpowder?"

"Colonels must have been scarce in your youth, sir, " cried John, who hadrather a mischievous propensity to start the old man on his hobby. 

"No, jackanapes, gentlemen killed one another then, although they did nottorment the innocent birds: honor was as dear to a gentleman of Georgethe Second's court, as to those of his grandson's, and honesty too, sirrah--ay, honesty. I remember when we were in, there was not a man ofdoubtful integrity in the ministry, or on our side even; and then again, when we went out, the opposition benches were filled with sterlingcharacters, making a parliament that was correct throughout. Can you showme such a thing at this day?"

Chapter XXII. 

A Few days after the arrival of the Moseleys at the lodge John drove hissisters to the little village of L----, which at that time was throngedwith an unusual number of visiters. It had, among other fashionablearrangements for the accommodation of its guests, one of those circulatorsof good and evil, a public library. Books are, in a great measure, theinstruments of controlling the opinions of a nation like ours. They are anengine, alike powerful to save or to destroy. It cannot be denied, thatour libraries contain as many volumes of the latter, as the formerdescription; for we rank amongst the latter that long catalogue of idleproductions, which, if they produce no other evil, lead to the misspendingof time, _our own_ perhaps included. But we cannot refrain expressing ourregret, that such formidable weapons in the cause of morality, should besuffered to be wielded by any indifferent or mercenary dealer, whoundoubtedly will consult rather the public tastes than the private good:the evil may be remediless, yet we love to express our sentiments, thoughwe should suggest nothing new or even profitable. Into one of these hauntsof the idle, then, John Moseley entered with a lovely sister leaning oneither arm. Books were the entertainers of Jane, and instructors of Emily. Sir Edward was fond of reading of a certain sort--that which required nogreat depth of thought, or labor of research; and, like most others whoare averse to contention, and disposed to be easily satisfied, the baronetsometimes found he had harbored opinions on things not exactlyreconcileable with the truth, or even with each other. It is quite asdangerous to give up your faculties to the guidance of the author you areperusing, as it is unprofitable to be captiously scrutinizing everysyllable he may happen to advance; and Sir Edward was, if anything, alittle inclined to the dangerous propensity. Unpleasant, Sir EdwardMoseley never was. Lady Moseley very seldom took a book in her hand: heropinions were established to her own satisfaction on all important points, and on the minor ones, she made it a rule to coincide with the popularfeeling. Jane had a mind more active than her father, and more brilliantthan her mother; and if she had not imbibed injurious impressions from theunlicensed and indiscriminate reading she practised, it was more owing tothe fortunate circumstance, that the baronet's library contained nothingextremely offensive to a pure taste, nor dangerous to good morals, than toany precaution of her parents against the deadly, the irretrievable injuryto be sustained from ungoverned liberty in this respect to a female mind. On the other hand, Mrs. Wilson had inculcated the necessity of restraint, in selecting the books for her perusal, so strenuously on her niece, thatwhat at first had been the effects of obedience and submission, had nowsettled into taste and habit; and Emily seldom opened a book, unless insearch of information; or if it were the indulgence of a less commendablespirit, it was an indulgence chastened by a taste and judgment thatlessened the danger, if it did not entirely remove it. 

The room was filled with gentlemen and ladies; and while John wasexchanging his greetings with several of the neighboring gentry of hisacquaintance, his sisters were running nastily over a catalogue of thebooks kept for circulation, as an elderly lady, of foreign accent anddress, entered; and depositing a couple of religious works on the counter, she inquired for the remainder of the set. The peculiarity of her idiomand her proximity to the sisters caused them both to look up at themoment, and, to the surprise of Jane, her sister uttered a slightexclamation of pleasure. The foreigner was attracted by the sound, andafter a moment's hesitation, she respectfully curtsied. Emily, advancing, kindly offered her hand, and the usual inquiries after each other'swelfare succeeded. To the questions asked after the friend of the matronEmily learnt, with some surprise, and no less satisfaction, that sheresided in a retired cottage, about five miles from L----, where they hadbeen for the last six months, and where they expected to remain for sometime, "until she could prevail on Mrs. Fitzgerald to return to Spain; athing, now there was peace, of which she did not despair. " After askingleave to call on them in their retreat, and exchanging good wishes, theSpanish lady withdrew, and, as Jane had made her selection, was followedimmediately by John Moseley and his sisters. Emily, in their walk home, acquainted her brother that the companion of their Bath incognita had beenat the library, and that for the first time she had learnt that theiryoung acquaintance was, or had been, married, and her name. John listenedto his sister with the interest which the beautiful Spaniard had excitedat the time they first met, and laughingly told her he could not believetheir unknown friend had ever been a wife. To satisfy this doubt, and togratify a wish they both had to renew their acquaintance with theforeigner, they agreed to drive to the cottage the following morning, accompanied by Mrs. Wilson and Jane, if she would go; but the next day wasthe one appointed by Egerton for his arrival at L----, and Jane, under apretence of writing letters, declined the excursion. She had carefullyexamined the papers since his departure; had seen his name included in thearrivals at London; and at a later day, had read an account of the reviewby the commander-in-chief of the regiment to which he belonged. He hadnever written to any of her friends; but, judging from her own feelings, she did not in the least doubt he would be as punctual as love could makehim. Mrs. Wilson listened to her niece's account of the unexpectedinterview in the library with pleasure, and cheerfully promised toaccompany them in their morning's excursion, as she had both a wish toalleviate sorrow, and a desire to better understand the character of thisaccidental acquaintance of Emily's. 

Mr. Benfield and the baronet had a long conversation in relation toDenbigh's fortune the morning after their arrival; and the old man wasloud in his expression of dissatisfaction at the youngster's pride. As thebaronet, however, in the fulness of his affection and simplicity, betrayedto his uncle his expectation of a union between Denbigh and his daughter, Mr. Benfield became contented with this reward; one fit, he thought, forany services. On the whole, "it was best, as he was to marry Emmy, heshould sell out of the army; and as there would be an election soon, hewould bring him into parliament--yes--- yes--it did a man so much good tosit one term in the parliament of this realm--to study human nature. Allhis own knowledge in that way was raised on the foundations laid in theHouse. " To this Sir Edward cordially assented, and the gentlemenseparated, happy in their arrangements to advance the welfare of twobeings they so sincerely loved. 

Although the care and wisdom of Mrs. Wilson had prohibited the admissionof any romantic or enthusiastic expectations of happiness into theday-dreams of her charge, yet the buoyancy of health, of hope, of youth, of innocence, had elevated Emily to a height of enjoyment hitherto unknownto her usually placid and disciplined pleasures. Denbigh certainlymingled in most of her thoughts, both of the past and the future, and shestood on the threshold of that fantastic edifice in which Jane ordinarilyresided. Emily was in the situation perhaps the most dangerous to a youngfemale Christian: her heart, her affections, were given to a man, toappearance, every way worthy of possessing them, it is true but she hadadmitted a rival in her love to her Maker; and to keep those feelingsdistinct, to bend the passions in due submission to the more powerfulconsiderations of endless duty, of unbounded gratitude, is one of the mosttrying struggles of Christian fortitude. We are much more apt to forgetour God in prosperity than adversity. The weakness of human nature drivesus to seek assistance in distress; but vanity and worldly-mindedness ofteninduce us to imagine we control the happiness we only enjoy. 

Sir Edward and Lady Moseley could see nothing in the prospect of thefuture but lives of peace and contentment for their children. Clara washappily settled, and her sisters were on the eve of making connexions withmen of family, condition, and certain character. What more could be donefor them? They must, like other people, take their chances in the lotteryof life; they could only hope and pray for their prosperity, and this theydid with great sincerity. Not so Mrs. Wilson: she had guarded theinvaluable charge intrusted to her keeping with too much assiduity, tookeen an interest, too just a sense of the awful responsibility she hadundertaken, to desert her post at the moment watchfulness was mostrequired. By a temperate, but firm and well-chosen conversation she keptalive the sense of her real condition in her niece, and labored hard toprevent the blandishments of life from supplanting the lively hope ofenjoying another existence. She endeavored, by her pious example, herprayers, and her Judicious allusions, to keep the passion of love in thebreast of Emily secondary to the more important object of her creation;and, by the aid of a kind and Almighty Providence, her labors, thougharduous, were crowned with success. 

As the family were seated round the table after dinner, on the day oftheir walk to the library, John Moseley, awakening from a reverie, exclaimed suddenly, "Which do you think the handsomest, Emily, Grace Chatterton or MissFitzgerald?"

Emily laughed, as she answered, "Grace, certainly; do you not think so, brother?"

"Yes, on the whole; but don't you think Grace looks like her mother attimes?"

"Oh no, she is the image of Chatterton. "

"She is very like yourself, Emmy dear, " said Mr. Benfield, who waslistening to their conversation. 

"Me, dear uncle; I have never heard it remarked before. "

"Yes, yes, she is as much like you as she can stare. I never saw as greata resemblance, excepting between you and Lady Juliana--Lady Juliana, Emmy, was a beauty in her day; very like her uncle, old Admiral Griffin--youcan't remember the admiral--he lost an eye in a battle with the Dutch, andpart of his cheek in a frigate, when a young man fighting the Dons. Oh, hewas a pleasant old gentleman; many a guinea has he given me when I was aboy at school. "

"And he looked like Grace Chatterton, uncle, did he?" asked John, innocently. 

"No, sir, he did not; who said he looked like Grace Chatterton, jackanapes?"

"Why, I thought you made it out, sir: but perhaps it was the descriptionthat deceived me--his eye and cheek, uncle. "

"Did Lord Gosford leave children, uncle?" inquired Emily, throwing a lookof reproach at John. 

"No, Emmy dear; his only child, a son, died at school. I shall neverforget the grief of poor Lady Juliana. She postponed a visit to Bath threeweeks on account of it. A gentleman who was paying his addresses to her atthe time, offered then, and was refused--indeed, her self-denial raisedsuch an admiration of her in the men, that immediately after the death ofyoung Lord Dayton, no less than seven gentlemen offered, and were refusedin one week. I heard Lady Juliana say, that what between lawyers andsuitors, she had not a moment's peace. "

"Lawyers?" cried Sir Edward: "what had she to do with lawyers?"

"Why, Sir Edward, six thousand a year fell to her by the death of hernephew; and there were trustees and deeds to be made out--poor youngwoman, she was so affected, Emmy, I don't think she went out for aweek--all the time at home reading papers, and attending to her importantconcerns. Oh! she was a woman of taste; her mourning, and liveries, andnew carriage, were more admired than those of any one about the court. Yes, yes, the title is extinct; I know of none of the name now. The Earldid not survive his loss but six years, and the countess diedbroken-hearted, about a twelvemonth before him. "

"And Lady Juliana, uncle, " inquired John, "what became of her, did shemarry?"

The old man helped himself to a glass of wine, and looked over hisshoulder to see if Peter was at hand. Peter, who had been originallybutler, and had made it a condition of his preferment, that whenever therewas company, he should be allowed to preside at the sideboard, was now athis station. Mr. Benfield, seeing his old friend near him, ventured totalk on a subject he seldom trusted himself with in company. 

"Why, yes--yes--she _did_ marry, it's true, although she did tell me sheintended to die a maid; but--hem--I suppose--hem--it was compassion forthe old viscount, who often said he could not live without her; and thenit gave her the power of doing so much good, a jointure of five thousand ayear added to her own income: yet--hem--I do confess I did not think shewould have chosen such an old and infirm man--- but, Peter, give me aglass of claret. " Peter handed the claret, and the old manproceeded:--"They say he was very cross to her, and that, no doubt, musthave made her unhappy, she was so very tender-hearted. "

How much longer the old gentleman would have continued in this strain, itis impossible to say; but he was interrupted by the opening of the parlordoor, and the sudden appearance on its threshold of Denbigh. Everycountenance glowed with pleasure at this unexpected return of theirfavorite; and but for the prudent caution of Mrs. Wilson, in handing aglass of water to her niece, the surprise might have proved too much forher. The salutations of Denbigh were returned by the different members ofthe family with a cordiality that must have told him how much he wasvalued by all its branches; and after briefly informing them that hisreview was over, and that he had thrown himself into a chaise andtravelled post until he had rejoined them, he took his seat by Mr. Benfield, who received him with a marked preference, exceeding that whichhe had shown to any man who had ever entered his doors, Lord Gosfordhimself not excepted. Peter removed from his station behind his master'schair to one where he could face the new comer; and after wiping his eyesuntil they filled so rapidly with water, that at last he was noticed bythe delighted John to put on the identical goggles which his care hadprovided for Denbigh in his illness. His laugh drew the attention of therest to the honest steward, and when Denbigh was told this was Mr. Benfield's ambassador to the hall, he rose from his chair, and taking theold man by the hand, kindly thanked him for his thoughtful considerationfor his weak eyes. 

Peter took the offered hand in both his own, and after making one or twounsuccessful efforts to speak, he uttered, "Thank you, thank you; mayHeaven bless you, " and burst into tears. This stopped the laugh, and Johnfollowed the steward from the room, while his master exclaimed, wiping hiseyes, "Kind and condescending; just such another as my old friend, theEarl of Gosford. "

Chapter XXIII. 

At the appointed hour, the carriage of Mrs. Wilson was ready to conveyherself and niece to the cottage of Mrs. Fitzgerald. John was left behind, under the pretence of keeping Denbigh company in his morning avocations, but really because Mrs. Wilson doubted the propriety of his becoming avisiting acquaintance at the house, tenanted as the cottage wasrepresented to be. John was too fond of his friend to make any seriousobjections, and was satisfied for the present, by sending his compliments, and requesting his sister to ask permission for him to call in one of hismorning excursions, in order to pay his personal respects. 

They found the cottage a beautiful and genteel, though a very small andretired dwelling, almost hid by the trees and shrubs which surrounded it, and its mistress in its little veranda, expecting the arrival of Emily. Mrs. Fitzgerald was a Spaniard, under twenty, of a melancholy, yet highlyinteresting countenance; her manners were soft and retiring, but evidentlybore the impression of good company, if not of high life. She wasextremely pleased with this renewal of attention on the part of Emily, andexpressed her gratitude to both ladies for their kindness in seeking herout in her solitude. She presented her more matronly companion to them, bythe name of Donna Lorenza; and as nothing but good feeling prevailed, anduseless ceremony was banished, the little party were soon on terms offriendly intercourse. The young widow (for such her dress indicated her tobe), did the honors of her house with graceful ease, and conduct ed hervisiters into her little grounds, which; together the cottage, gaveevident proofs of the taste and elegance of its occupant. Theestablishment she supported she represented as very small; two women andan aged man servant, with occasionally a laborer for her garden andshrubbery. They never visited; it was a resolution she had made on fixingher residence here, but if Mrs. Wilson and Miss Moseley would forgive therudeness of not returning their call, nothing would give her moresatisfaction than a frequent renewal of their visits. Mrs. Wilson took sodeep an interest in the misfortunes of this young female, and was so muchpleased with the modest resignation of her manner, that it required littlepersuasion on the part of the recluse to obtain a promise of soonrepeating her visit. Emily mentioned the request of John, and Mrs. Fitzgerald received it with a mournful smile, as she replied that Mr. Moseley had laid her under such an obligation in their first interview, she could not deny herself the pleasure of again thanking him for it; butshe must be excused if she desired they would limit their attendants tohim, as there was but one gentleman in England whose visits she admitted, and it was seldom indeed he called; he had seen her but once since she hadresided in Norfolk. 

After giving a promise not to suffer any one else to accompany them, andpromising an early call again, our ladies returned to Benfield Lodge inseason to dress for dinner. On entering the drawing-room, they found theelegant person of Colonel Egerton leaning on the back of Jane's chair. Hehad arrived during their absence, and immediately sought the baronet'sfamily. His reception, if not as warm as that given to Denbigh, wascordial from all but the master of the house; and even he was in suchspirits by the company around him, and the prospects of Emily's marriage(which he considered as settled), that he forced himself to an appearanceof good will he did not feel. Colonel Egerton was either deceived by hismanner, or too much a man of the world to discover his suspicion, andeverything in consequence was very harmoniously, if not sincerelyconducted between them. 

Lady Moseley was completely happy. If she had the least doubts before, asto the intentions of Egerton, they were now removed. His journey to thatunfashionable watering-place, was owing to his passion; and however shemight at times have doubted as to Sir Edgar's heir, Denbigh she thought aman of too little consequence in the world, to make it possible he wouldneglect to profit by his situation in the family of Sir Edward Moseley. She was satisfied with both connexions. Mr. Benfield had told her GeneralSir Frederic Denbigh was nearly allied to the Duke of Derwent, and Denbighhad said the general was his grandfather. Wealth, she knew Emily wouldpossess from both her uncle and aunt; and the services of the gentlemanhad their due weight upon the feelings of the affectionate mother. Thegreatest of her maternal anxieties was removed, and she looked forward tothe peaceful enjoyment of the remnant of her days in the bosom of herdescendants. John, the heir of a baronetcy, and 15, 000 pounds a year, might suit himself; and Grace Chatterton, she thought, would be likely toprove the future Lady Moseley. Sir Edward, without entering so deeply intoanticipations of the future as his wife, experienced an equal degree ofcontentment; and it would have been a difficult task to discover in theisland a roof, under which there resided at the moment more happycountenances than at Benfield Lodge; for as its master had insisted onDenbigh becoming an inmate, he was obliged to extend his hospitality in anequal degree to Colonel Egerton: indeed, the subject had been fullycanvassed between him and Peter the morning of his arrival, and was nearbeing decided against his admission, when the steward, who had picked upall the incidents of the arbor scene from the servants (and of course withmany exaggerations), mentioned to his master that the colonel was veryactive, and that he even contrived to bring water to revive Miss Emmy, agreat distance, in the hat of Captain Jarvis, which was full of holes, Mr. John having blown it off the head of the captain without hurting a hair, in firing at a woodcock. This mollified the master a little, and he agreedto suspend his decision for further observation. At dinner, the colonelhappening to admire the really handsome face of Lord Gosford, asdelineated by Sir Joshua Reynolds, which graced the dining-room ofBenfield Lodge, its master, in a moment of unusual kindness, gave theinvitation; it was politely accepted, and the colonel at oncedomesticated. 

The face of John Moseley alone, at times, exhibited evidences of care andthought, and at such moments it might be a subject of doubt whether hethought the most of Grace Chatterton or her mother: if the latter, theformer was sure to lose ground in his estimation; a serious misfortune toJohn, not to be able to love Grace without alloy. His letters from herbrother mentioned his being still at Denbigh castle, in Westmoreland, theseat of his friend the Duke of Derwent; and John thought one or two of hisencomiums on Lady Harriet Denbigh, the sister of his grace, augured thatthe unkindness of Emily might in time be forgotten. The dowager and herdaughters were at the seat of a maiden aunt in Yorkshire, where as Johnknew no male animal was allowed admittance, he was tolerably easy at thedisposition of things. Nothing but legacy-hunting he knew would induce thedowager to submit to such a banishment from the other sex; but that wasso preferable to husband-hunting he was satisfied. "I wish, " said Johnmentally, as he finished the perusal of his letter, "mother Chattertonwould get married herself, and she might let Kate and Grace manage forthemselves. Kate would do very well, I dare say, and how would Grace makeout!" John sighed, and whistled for Dido and Rover. 

In the manners of Colonel Egerton there was the same general dispositionto please, and the same unremitted attention to the wishes and amusementsof Jane. They had renewed their poetical investigations, and Jane eagerlyencouraged a taste which afforded her delicacy some little coloring forthe indulgence of an association different from the real truth, and which, in her estimation, was necessary to her happiness. Mrs. Wilson thought thedistance between the two suitors for the favor of her nieces was, ifanything, increased by their short separation, and particularly noticed onthe part of the colonel an aversion to Denbigh that at times painfullyalarmed, by exciting apprehensions for the future happiness of theprecious treasure she had prepared herself to yield to his solicitations, whenever properly proffered. In the intercourse between Emily and herpreserver, as there was nothing to condemn, so there was much to admire. The attentions of Denbigh were pointed, although less exclusive than thoseof the colonel; and the aunt was pleased to observe that if the manners ofEgerton had more of the gloss of life, those of Denbigh were certainlydistinguished by a more finished delicacy and propriety. The one appearedthe influence of custom and association, with a tincture of artifice; theother, benevolence, with a just perception of what was due to others, andwith an air of sincerity, when speaking of sentiments and principles, thatwas particularly pleasing to the watchful widow. At times, however, shecould not but observe an air of restraint, if not of awkwardness, abouthim that was a little surprising. It was most observable in mixed society, and once or twice her imagination pictured his sensations into somethinglike alarm. These unpleasant interruptions to her admiration were soonforgotten in her just appreciation of the more solid parts of hischaracter, which appeared literally to be unexceptionable; and whenmomentary uneasiness would steal over her, the remembrance of the opinionof Dr. Ives, his behavior with Jarvis, his charity, and chiefly hisdevotion to her niece, would not fail to drive the disagreeable thoughtsfrom her mind. Emily herself moved about, the image of joy and innocence. If Denbigh were near her, she was happy; if absent, she suffered nouneasiness. Her feelings were so ardent, and yet so pure, that jealousyhad no admission. Perhaps no circumstances existed to excite this usualattendant of the passion; but as the heart of Emily was more enchainedthan her imagination, her affections were not of the restless nature ofordinary attachments, though more dangerous to her peace of mind in theevent of an unfortunate issue. With Denbigh she never walked or rodealone. He had never made the request, and her delicacy would have shrunkfrom such an open manifestation of her preference; but he read to her andher aunt; he accompanied them in their little excursions; and once ortwice John noticed that she took the offered hand of Denbigh to assist herover any little impediment in their course, instead of her usualunobtrusive custom of taking his arm on such occasions. "Well, MissEmily, " thought John, "you appear to have chosen another favorite, " on herdoing this three times in succession in one of their walks. "How strangeit is women will quit their natural friends for a face they have hardlyseen. " John forgot his own--"There is no danger, dear Grace, " when hissister was almost dead with apprehension. But John loved Emily too wellto witness her preference of another with satisfaction, even thoughDenbigh was the favorite; a feeling which soon wore away, however, by dintof custom and reflection. Mr. Benfield had taken it into his head that ifthe wedding of Emily could be solemnized while the family was at thelodge, it would render him the happiest of men; and how to compass thisobject, was the occupation of a whole morning's contemplation. Happily forEmily's blushes, the old gentleman harbored the most fastidious notions offemale delicacy, and never in conversation made the most distant allusionto the expected connexion. He, therefore, in conformity with thesefeelings, could do nothing openly; all must be the effect of management;and as he thought Peter one of the best contrivers in the world, to hisingenuity he determined to refer the arrangement. 

The bell rang--"Send Johnson to me, David. "

In a few minutes, the drab coat and blue yarn stockings entered hisdressing-room with the body of Mr. Peter Johnson snugly cased within them. 

"Peter, " commenced Mr. Benfield, pointing kindly to a chair, which thesteward respectfully declined, "I suppose you know that Mr. Denbigh, thegrandson of General Denbigh, who was in parliament with me, is about tomarry my little Emmy?"

Peter smiled, as he bowed an assent. 

"Now, Peter, a wedding would, of all things, make me most happy; that is, to have it here in the lodge. It would remind me so much of the marriageof Lord Gosford, and the bridemaids. I wish your opinion how to bring itabout before they leave us. Sir Edward and Anne decline interfering, andMrs. Wilson I am afraid to speak to on the subject. "

Peter was not a little alarmed by this sudden requisition on hisinventive faculties, especially as a lady was in the case; but, as heprided himself on serving his master, and loved the hilarity of a weddingin his heart, he cogitated for some time in silence, when, having thoughta preliminary question or two necessary, he broke it with saying--

"Everything, I suppose, master, is settled between the young people?"

"Everything, I take it, Peter. "

"And Sir Edward and my lady?"

"Willing; perfectly willing. "

"And Madam Wilson, sir?"

"Willing, Peter, willing. "

"And Mr. John and Miss Jane?"

"All willing; the whole family is willing, to the best of my belief. '"

"There is the Rev. Mr. Ives and Mrs. Ives, master?"

"They wish it, I know. Don't you think they wish others as happy asthemselves, Peter?"

"No doubt they do, master. Well, then, as everybody is willing, and theyoung people agreeable, the only thing to be done, sir, is. "

"Is what, Peter?" exclaimed his impatient master observing him tohesitate. 

"Why, sir, to send for the priest, I take it. "

"Pshaw! Peter Johnson, I know that myself, " replied the dissatisfied oldman. "Cannot you help me to a better plan?"

"Why, master, " said Peter, "I would have done as well for Miss Emmy andyour honor as I would have done for myself. Now, sir, when I courted PattySteele, your honor, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred andsixty-five, I should have been married but for one difficulty, which yourhonor says is removed in the case of Miss Emmy. "

"What was that, Peter?" asked his master, in a tender tone. 

"She wasn't willing, sir. "

"Very well, poor Peter, " replied Mr. Benfield, mildly "you may go. " Andthe steward, bowing low, withdrew. 

The similarity of their fortunes in love was a strong link in thesympathies which bound the master and man together and the former neverfailed to be softened by an allusion to Patty. The want of tact in theman, on the present occasion, after much reflection, was attributed by hismaster to the fact that Peter had never sat in parliament. 

Chapter XXIV. 

Mrs. Wilson and Emily, in the fortnight they had been at Benfield Lodge, paid frequent and long visits to the cottage: and each succeedinginterview left a more favorable impression of the character of itsmistress, and a greater certainty that she was unfortunate. The latter, however, alluded very slightly to her situation or former life; she was aProtestant, to the great surprise of Mrs. Wilson; and one that misery hadmade nearly acquainted with the religion she professed. Theirconversations chiefly turned on the customs of her own, as contrasted withthose of her adopted country, or in a pleasant exchange of opinions, whichthe ladies possessed in complete unison. One morning John had accompaniedthem and been admitted; Mrs. Fitzgerald receiving him with the franknessof an old acquaintance, though with the reserve of a Spanish lady. Hisvisits were permitted under the direction of his aunt, but no others ofthe gentlemen were included amongst her guests. Mrs. Wilson had casuallymentioned, in the absence of her niece, the interposition of Denbighbetween her and death; and Mrs. Fitzgerald was so much pleased at thenoble conduct of the gentleman, as to express a desire to see him; but theimpressions of the moment appeared to have died away, a nothing more wassaid by either lady on the subject, and it was apparently forgotten. Mrs. Fitzgerald was found one morning, weeping over a letter she held in herhand, and the Donna Lorenza was endeavoring to console her. The situationof this latter lady was somewhat doubtful; she appeared neither wholly afriend nor a menial. In the manners of the two there was a strikingdifference; although the Donna was not vulgar, she was far from possessingthe polish of her more juvenile friend, and Mrs. Wilson considered her tobe in a station between that of a housekeeper and that of a companion. After hoping that no unpleasant intelligence occasioned the distress theywitnessed, the ladies were delicately about to take their leave, when Mrs. Fitzgerald entreated them to remain. 

"Your kind attention to me, dear madam, and the goodness of Miss Moseley, give you a claim to know more of the unfortunate being your sympathy hasso greatly assisted to attain her peace of mind. This letter is from thegentleman of whom you have heard me speak, as once visiting me, and thoughit has struck me with unusual force, it contains no more than I expectedto hear, perhaps no more than I deserve to hear. "

"I hope your friend has not been unnecessarily harsh: severity is not thebest way, always, of effecting repentance, and I feel certain that you, myyoung friend, can have been guilty of no offence that does not ratherrequire gentle than stern reproof, " said Mrs. Wilson. 

"I thank you, dear madam, for your indulgent opinion of me, but although Ihave suffered much, I am willing to confess it is a merited punishment;you are, however, mistaken as to the source of my present sorrow. LordPendennyss is the cause of grief, I believe, to no one, much less to me. "

"Lord Pendennyss!" exclaimed Emily, in surprise, unconsciously looking ather aunt. 

"Pendennyss!" reiterated Mrs. Wilson, with animation "and is he yourfriend, too?"

"Yes, madam; to his lordship I oweeverything--honor--comfort--religion--and even life itself. "

Mrs. Wilson's cheek glowed with an unusual color, at this discovery ofanother act of benevolence and virtue, in a young nobleman whose charactershe had so long admired, and whose person she had in vain wished to meet. 

"You know the earl, then?" inquired Mrs. Fitzgerald. 

"By reputation, only, my dear, " said Mrs. Wilson; "but that is enough toconvince me a friend of his must be a worthy character, if anything werewanting to make us your friends. "

The conversation was continued for some time, and Mrs. Fitzgerald sayingshe did not feel equal just then to the undertaking, but the next day, ifthey would honor her with another call, she would make them acquaintedwith the incidents of her life, and the reasons she had for speaking insuch terms of Lord Pendennyss. The promise to see her was cheerfully madeby Mrs. Wilson, and her confidence accepted; not from a desire to gratifyan idle curiosity, but a belief that it was necessary to probe a wound tocure it; and a correct opinion, that she would be a better adviser for ayoung and lovely woman, than even Pendennyss; for the Donna Lorenza shecould hardly consider in a capacity to offer advice, much less dictation. They then took their leave, and Emily, during their ride, broke thesilence with exclaiming, --

"Wherever we hear of Lord Pendennyss, aunt, we hear of him favorably. "

"A certain sign, my dear, he is deserving of it. There is hardly any manwho has not his enemies, and those are seldom just; but we have met withnone of the earl's yet. "

"Fifty thousand a year will make many friends, " observed Emily, shakingher head. 

"Doubtless, my love, or as many enemies; but honor, life, and religion, mychild, are debts not owing to money--in this country at least. "

To this remark Emily assented; and after expressing her own admiration ofthe character of the young nobleman, she dropped into a reverie. How manyof his virtues she identified with the person of Mr. Denbigh, it is not, just now, our task to enumerate; but judges of human nature may easilydetermine, and that too without having sat in the parliament of thisrealm. 

The morning this conversation occurred at the cottage, Mr. And Mrs. Jarvis, with their daughters, made their unexpected appearance at L----. The arrival of a post-chaise and four with a gig, was an event sooncirculated through the little village, and the names of its owners reachedthe lodge just as Jane had allowed herself to be persuaded by the colonelto take her first walk with him unaccompanied by a third person. Walkingis much more propitious to declarations than riding; and whether it waspremeditated on the part of the colonel or not, or whether he was afraidthat Mrs. Jarvis or some one else would interfere, he availed himself ofthis opportunity, and had hardly got out of hearing of her brother andDenbigh, before he made Jane an explicit offer of his hand. The surprisewas so great, that some time elapsed before the distressed girl couldreply. This she, however, at length did, but incoherently: she referredhim to her parents, as the arbiters of her fate, well knowing that herwishes had long been those of her father and mother. With this the colonelwas obliged to be satisfied for the present. But their walk had not ended, before he gradually drew from the confiding girl an acknowledgment that, should her parents decline his offer, she would be very little lessmiserable than himself; indeed, the most tenacious lover might have beencontent with the proofs of regard that Jane, unused to control herfeelings, allowed herself to manifest on this occasion. Egerton was inraptures; a life devoted to her would never half repay her condescension;and as their confidence increased with their walk, Jane re-entered thelodge with a degree of happiness in her heart she had never beforeexperienced. The much dreaded declaration--her own distressingacknowledgements, were made, and nothing farther remained but to live andbe happy. She flew into the arms of her mother, and; hiding her blushes inher bosom, acquainted her with the colonel's offer and her own wishes. Lady Moseley, who was prepared for such a communication, and had ratherwondered at its tardiness, kissed her daughter affectionately, as shepromised to speak to her father, and to obtain his approbation. 

"But, " she added, with a degree of formality and caution which had betterpreceded than have followed the courtship, "we must make the usualinquiries, my child, into the fitness of Colonel Egerton as a husband forour daughter. Once assured of that, you have nothing to fear. "

The baronet was requested to grant an audience to Colonel Egerton, who nowappeared as determined to expedite things, as he had been dilatory before. On meeting Sir Edward, he made known his pretensions and hopes. Thefather, who had been previously notified by his wife of what wasforthcoming, gave a general answer, similar to the speech of the mother, and the colonel bowed in acquiescence. 

In the evening, the Jarvis family favored the inhabitants of the lodgewith a visit, and Mrs. Wilson was struck with the singularity of theirreception of the colonel. Miss Jarvis, especially, was rude to both himand Jane, and it struck all who witnessed it as a burst of jealous feelingfor disappointed hopes; but to no one, excepting Mrs. Wilson, did it occurthat the conduct of the gentleman could be at all implicated in thetransaction. Mr. Benfield was happy to see under his roof again the bestof the trio of Jarvises he had known, and something like sociabilityprevailed. There was to be a ball, Miss Jarvis remarked, at L----, thefollowing day, which would help to enliven the scene a little, especiallyas there were a couple of frigates at anchor, a few miles off, and theofficers were expected to join the party. This intelligence had but littleeffect on the ladies of the Moseley family; yet, as their uncle desiredthat, out of respect to his neighbors, if invited, they would go, theycheerfully assented. During the evening, Mrs. Wilson observed Egerton infamiliar conversation with Miss Jarvis; and as she had been notified ofhis situation with respect to Jane, she determined to watch narrowly intothe causes of so singular a change of deportment in the young lady. Mrs. Jarvis retained her respect for the colonel in full force; and called outto him across the room, a few minutes before she departed--

"Well, colonel, I am happy to tell you I have heard very lately from youruncle, Sir Edgar. "

"Indeed, madam!" replied the colonel, starting. "He was well, I hope. "

"Very well, the day before yesterday. His neighbor, old, Mr. Holt, is alodger in the same house with us at L----; and as I thought you would liketo hear, I made particular inquiries about the baronet. " The word baronetwas pronounced with emphasis and a look of triumph, as if it would say, you see _we_ have baronets as well as you. As no answer was made byEgerton, excepting an acknowledging bow, the merchant and his familydeparted. 

"Well, John, " cried Emily, with a smile, "we have heard more good to-dayof our trusty and well-beloved cousin, the Earl of Pendennyss. "

"Indeed!" exclaimed her brother. "You must keep Emily for his lordship, positively, aunt: she is almost as great an admirer of him as yourself. "

"I apprehend it is necessary she should be quite as much so, to becomehis wife, " said Mrs. Wilson. 

"Really, " said Emily, more gravely, "if all one hears of him be true, oreven half, it would be no difficult task to admire him. "

Denbigh was standing leaning on the back of a chair, in situation where hecould view the animated countenance of Emily as she spoke, and Mrs. Wilsonnoticed an uneasiness and a changing of color in him that appeareduncommon from so trifling a cause. Is it possible, she thought, Denbighcan harbor so mean a passion as envy? He walked away, as if unwilling tohear more, and appeared much engrossed with his own reflections for theremainder of the evening. There were moments of doubting which crossed themind of Mrs. Wilson with a keenness of apprehension proportionate to herdeep interest in Emily, with respect to certain traits in the character ofDenbigh; and this, what she thought a display of unworthy feeling, was oneof them. In the course of the evening, the cards for the expected ballarrived, and were accepted. As this new arrangement for the morrowinterfered with their intended visit to Mrs. Fitzgerald, a servant wassent with a note of explanation in the morning and a request that on thefollowing day the promised communication might be made. To thisarrangement the recluse assented, and Emily prepared for the ball with amelancholy recollection of the consequences which grew out of the last shehad attended--melancholy at the fate of Digby, and pleasure at theprinciples manifested by Denbigh, on the occasion. The latter, however, with a smile, excused himself from being of the party, telling Emily hewas so awkward that he feared some unpleasant consequences to himself orhis friends would arise from his inadvertencies, did he venture again withher into such an assembly. 

Emily sighed gently, as she entered the carriage of her aunt early in theafternoon, leaving Denbigh in the door of the lodge, and Egerton absent onthe execution of some business; the former to amuse himself as he coulduntil the following morning, and the latter to join them in the dance inthe evening. 

The arrangement included an excursion on the water, attended by the bandsfrom the frigates, a collation, and in the evening a ball. One of thevessels was commanded by a Lord Henry Stapleton, a fine young man, who, struck with the beauty and appearance of the sisters, sought anintroduction to the baronet's family, and engaged the hand of Emily forthe first dance. His frank and gentleman-like deportment was pleasing tohis new acquaintances; the more so, as it was peculiarly suited to theirsituation at the moment. Mrs. Wilson was in unusual spirits, andmaintained an animated conversation with the young sailor, in the courseof which, he spoke of his cruising on the coast of Spain, and by accidenthe mentioned his having carried out to that country, upon one occasion, Lord Pendennyss. This was common ground between them, and Lord Henry wasas enthusiastic in his praises of the earl, as Mrs. Wilson's partialitycould desire. He also knew Colonel Egerton slightly, and expressed hispleasure, in polite terms, when they met in the evening in the ball-room, at being able to renew his acquaintance. The evening passed off as suchevenings generally do--in gaiety, listlessness, dancing, gaping, andheartburnings, according to the dispositions and good or ill fortune ofthe several individuals who compose the assembly. Mrs. Wilson, while hernieces were dancing, moved her seat to be near a window, and found herselfin the vicinity of two elderly gentlemen, who were commenting on thecompany. After making several common-place remarks, one of them inquiredof the other--"Who is that military gentleman amongst the naval beaux, Holt?"

"That is the hopeful nephew of my friend and neighbor, Sir Edgar Egerton;he is here dancing, and misspending his time and money, when I know SirEdgar gave him a thousand pounds six months ago, on express condition, heshould not leave the regiment or take a card in his hand for twelvemonth. "

"He plays, then?"

"Sadly; he is, on the whole, a very bad young man. "

As they changed their topic, Mrs. Wilson joined her sister, dreadfullyshocked at this intimation of the vices of a man so near an alliance withher brother's child. She was thankful it was not too late to avert part ofthe evil, and determined to acquaint Sir Edward, at once, with what shehad heard, in order that an investigation might establish the colonel'sinnocence or guilt. 

Chapter XXV. 

They returned to the lodge at an early hour, and Mrs Wilson, aftermeditating upon the course she ought to take, resolved to have aconversation with her brother that evening after supper. Accordingly, asthey were among the last to retire, she mentioned her wish to detain him, and when left by themselves, the baronet taking his seat by her on a sofa, she commenced as follows, willing to avoid her unpleasant informationuntil the last moment. 

"I wished to say something to you, brother, relating to my charge: youhave, no doubt, observed the attentions of Mr. Denbigh to Emily?"

"Certainly, sister, and with great pleasure; you must not suppose I wishto interfere with the authority I have so freely relinquished to you, Charlotte, when I inquire if Emily favors his views or not?"

"Neither Emily nor I, my dear brother, wish ever to question your right, not only to inquire into, but to control the conduct of your child;--sheis yours, Edward, by a tie nothing can break, and we both love you toomuch to wish it. There is nothing you may be more certain of, than that, without the approbation of her parents, Emily would accept of no offer, however splendid or agreeable to her own wishes. "

"Nay, sister, I would not wish unduly to influence my child in an affairof so much importance to herself; but my interest in Denbigh is littleshort of that I feel for my daughter. "

"I trust, " continued Mrs. Wilson, "Emily is too deeply impressed with herduty to forget the impressive mandate, 'to honor her father and mother:'yes, Sir Edward, I am mistaken if she would not relinquish the dearestobject of her affections, at your request; and at the same time, I ampersuaded she would, under no circumstances, approach the altar with a manshe did not both love and esteem. "

The baronet did not appear exactly to understand his sister's distinction, as he observed, "I am not sure I rightly comprehend the difference youmake, Charlotte. "

"Only, brother, that she would feel that a promise made at the altar tolove a man she felt averse to, or honor one she could not esteem, as abreach of a duty, paramount to all earthly considerations, " replied hissister; "but to answer your question--Denbigh has never offered, and whenhe does, I do not think he will be refused. "

"Refused!" cried the baronet, "I sincerely hope not; I wish, with all myheart, they were married already. "

"Emily is very young, " said Mrs. Wilson, "and need not hurry: I was inhopes she would remain single a few years longer. "

"Well, " said the baronet, "you and Lady Moseley, sister, have differentnotions on the subject of marrying the girls. "

Mrs. Wilson replied, with a good-humored smile, "you have made Anne sogood a husband, Ned, that she forgets there are any bad ones in the world;_my_ greatest anxiety is, that the husband of my niece may be a Christian;indeed, I know not how I can reconcile it to my conscience, as a Christianmyself, to omit this important qualification, "

"I am sure, Charlotte, both Denbigh and Egerton appear to have a greatrespect for religion; they are punctual at church, and very attentive tothe service:" Mrs, Wilson smiled as he proceeded, "but religion may comeafter marriage, you know. "

"Yes, brother, and I know it may not come at all; no really pious womancan be happy, without her husband is in what she deems the road to futurehappiness himself; and it is idle--it is worse--it is almost impious tomarry with a view to reform a husband: indeed, she greatly endangers herown safety thereby; for few of us, I believe, but find the temptation toerr as much as we can contend with, without calling in the aid of exampleagainst us, in an object we love; indeed it appears to me, the life ofsuch a woman must be a struggle between conflicting duties. "

"Why, " said the baronet, "if your plan were generally adopted, I am afraidit would give a deadly blow to matrimony. "

"I have nothing to do with generals, brother, I am acting for individualhappiness, and discharging individual duties: at the same time I cannotagree with you in its effects on the community. I think no man whodispassionately examines the subject, will be other than a Christian; andrather than remain bachelors, they would take even that trouble; if thestrife in our sex were less for a husband, wives would increase in value. "

"But how is it, Charlotte, " said the baronet, pleasantly, "your sex do notuse your power and reform the age?"

"The work of reformation, Sir Edward, " replied his sister, gravely, "is anarduous one indeed, and I despair of seeing it general, in my day; butmuch, very much, might be done towards it, if those who have the guidanceof youth would take that trouble with their pupils that good faithrequires of them, to discharge the minor duties of life. "

"Women ought to marry, " observed the baronet, musing. 

"Marriage is certainly the natural and most desirable state for a woman, "but how few are there who, having entered it, know how to discharge itsduties; more particularly those of a mother! On the subject of marryingour daughters, for instance, instead of qualifying them to make a properchoice, they are generally left to pick up such principles and opinions asthey may come at, as it were by chance. It is true, if the parent be aChristian in name, certain of the externals of religion are observed; butwhat are these, if not enforced by a consistent example in theinstructor?"

"Useful precepts are seldom lost, I believe, sister, " said Sir Edward, with confidence. 

"Always useful, my dear brother; but young people are more observant thanwe are apt to imagine, and are wonderfully ingenious in devising excusesto themselves for their conduct. I have often heard it offered as anapology, that father or mother knew it, or perhaps did it, and thereforeit could not be wrong: association is all-important to a child. "

"I believe no family of consequence admits of improper associates withinmy knowledge, " said the baronet. 

Mrs. Wilson smiled as she answered, "I am sure I hope not, Edward; but arethe qualifications we require in companions for our daughters, always suchas are most reconcileable with our good sense or our consciences; a singlecommunication with an objectionable character is a precedent, if known andunobserved, which will be offered to excuse acquaintances with worsepersons: with the other sex, especially, their acquaintance should be veryguarded and select. "

"You would make many old maids, sister. "

"I doubt it greatly, brother; it would rather bring female society indemand. I often regret that selfishness, cupidity, and the kind of strifewhich prevails in our sex, on the road to matrimony, have brought celibacyinto disrepute. For my part, I never see an old maid, but I am willing tothink she is so from choice or principle, and although not in her properplace, serviceable, by keeping alive feelings necessary to exist, thatmarriages may not become curses instead of blessings. "

"A kind of Eddystone, to prevent matrimonial shipwrecks, " said thebrother, gayly. 

"Their lot may be solitary, baronet, and in some measure cheerless, butinfinitely preferable to a marriage that may lead them astray from theirduties, or give birth to a family which are to be turned on theworld--without any religion but form--without any morals but truisms--orwithout even a conscience which has not been seared by indulgence. I hopethat Anne, in the performance of her system, will have no cause to regretits failure. "

"Clara chose for herself, and has done well, Charlotte; and so, I doubtnot, will Jane and Emily: and I confess I think their mother is right. "

"It is true, " said Mrs. Wilson, "Clara has done well, though undercircumstances of but little risk; she might have jumped into yourfish-pond, and escaped with life, but the chances are she would drown: nordo I dispute the right of the girls to choose for themselves; but I saythe rights extend to requiring us to qualify them to make their choice. Iam sorry, Edward, to be the instigator of doubts in your breast of theworth of any one, especially as it may give you pain. " Here Mrs. Wilsontook her brother affectionately by the hand, and communicated what she hadoverheard that evening. Although the impressions of the baronet were notas vivid, or as deep as those of his sister, his parental love was toogreat not to make him extremely uneasy under the intelligence and afterthanking her for her attention to his children's welfare, he kissed her, and withdrew. In passing to his own room, he met Egerton, that momentreturned from escorting Jarvis ladies to their lodgings; a task he hadundertaken at the request of Jane, as they were without any maleattendant. Sir Edward's heart was too full not to seek immediate relief, and as he had strong hopes of the innocence of the colonel, though hecould give no reason for his expectation, he returned with him to theparlor, and in a few words acquainted him with the slanders which had beencirculated at his expense; begging him by all means to disprove them assoon as possible. The colonel was struck with the circumstance at first, but assured Sir Edward, it was entirely untrue. He never played, as hemight have noticed, and that Mr. Holt was an ancient enemy of his. Hewould in She morning take measures to convince Sir Edward, that he stoodhigher in the estimation of his uncle, than Mr. Holt had thought proper tostate. Much relieved by this explanation, the baronet, forgetting thatthis heavy charge removed, he only stood where he did before he took timefor his inquiries, assured him, that if he could convince him, or ratherhis sister, he did not gamble, he would receive him as a son-in-law withpleasure. The gentlemen shook hands and parted. 

Denbigh had retired to his room early, telling Mr. Benfield he did notfeel well, and thus missed the party at supper; and by twelve, silenceprevailed in the house. 

As usual after a previous day of pleasure, the party were late inassembling on the following, yet Denbigh was the last who made hisappearance. Mrs. Wilson thought he threw a look round the room as heentered, which prevented his making his salutations in his usual easy andpolished manner. In a few minutes, however, his awkwardness was removed, and they took their seats at the table. At that moment the door of theroom was thrown hastily open, and Mr. Jarvis entered abruptly, and with alook bordering on wildness in his eye--"Is she not here?" exclaimed themerchant scanning the company closely. 

"Who?" inquired all in a breath. 

"Polly--my daughter--my child, " said the merchant, endeavoring to controlhis feelings; "did she not come here this morning with Colonel Egerton?"

He was answered in the negative, and he briefly explained the cause of hisanxiety. The colonel had called very early, and sent her maid up to hisdaughter who rose immediately. They had quitted the house together, leaving word the Miss Moseleys had sent for the young lady to breakfast, for some particular reason. Such was the latitude allowed by his wife, that nothing was suspected until one of the servants of the house said hehad seen Colonel Egerton and a lady drive out of the village that morningin a post-chaise and four. 

Then the old gentleman first took the alarm, and he proceeded instantly tothe lodge in quest of his daughter. Of the elopement there now remained nodoubt, and an examination into the state of the colonel's room, who, ithad been thought, was not yet risen, gave assurance of it. Here was atonce sad confirmation that the opinion of Mr. Holt was a just one. Although every heart felt for Jane during this dreadful explanation, noeye was turned on her excepting the stolen, and anxious glances of hersister; but when all was confirmed, and nothing remained but to reflect oract upon the circumstances, she naturally engrossed the whole attention ofher fond parents. Jane had listened in indignation to the commencement ofthe narrative of Mr. Jarvis, and so firmly was Egerton enshrined in puritywithin her imagination, that not until it was ascertained that both hisservant and clothes were missing, would she admit a thought injurious tohis truth. Then indeed the feelings of Mr. Jarvis, his plain statementcorroborated by this testimony, struck her at once as true; and as sherose to leave the room, she fell senseless into the arms of Emily whoobserving her movement and loss of color had flown to her assistance. Denbigh had drawn the merchant out in vain efforts to appease him, andhappily no one witnessed this effect of Jane's passion but her nearestrelatives. She was immediately removed to her own room, and in a shorttime was in bed with a burning fever. The bursts of her grief wereuncontrolled and violent. At times she reproached herself--herfriends--Egerton; in short, she was guilty of all the inconsistentsensations that disappointed hopes, accompanied by the consciousness ofweakness on our part seldom fail to give rise to; the presence of herfriends was irksome to her, and it was only to the soft and insinuatingblandishments of Emily's love that she would at all yield. Perseveranceand affection at length prevailed, and as Emily took the opportunity ofsome refreshments to infuse a strong soporific, Jane lost herconsciousness of misery in a temporary repose. In the mean time a moresearching inquiry had been able to trace out the manner and direction ofthe journey of the fugitives. 

It appeared the colonel left the lodge immediately after his conversationwith Sir Edward; he slept at a tavern, and caused his servant to removehis baggage at daylight; here he had ordered a chaise and horses, and thenproceeded, as mentioned, to the lodgings of Mr. Jarvis. What arguments heused with Miss Jarvis to urge her to so sudden a flight, remained asecret; but from the remarks of Mrs. Jarvis and Miss Sarah, there wasreason to believe that he had induced them to think from the commencement, that his intentions were single, and Mary Jarvis their object. How hecontrived to gloss over his attentions to Jane in such a manner as todeceive those ladies, caused no little surprise; but it was obvious it hadbeen done, and the Moseleys were not without hopes his situation withJane would not make the noise in the world such occurrences seldom fail toexcite. In the afternoon a letter was handed to Mr. Jarvis, and by himimmediately communicated to the baronet and Denbigh, both of whom heconsidered as among his best friends. It was from Egerton, and written ina respectful manner: he apologized for his elopement, and excused it onthe ground of a wish to avoid the delay of a license or the publishing ofbans, as he was in hourly expectation of a summons to his regiment, andcontained many promises of making an attentive husband, and anaffectionate son. The fugitives were on the road to Scotland, whence theyintended immediately to return to London and to wait the commands of theirparents. The baronet in a voice trembling with emotion at the sufferingsof his own child, congratulated the merchant that things were no worse;while Denbigh curled his lips as he read the epistle, and thoughtsettlements were a greater inconvenience than the bans--for it was a wellknown fact, a maiden aunt had left the Jarvises twenty thousand poundsbetween them. 

Chapter XXVI. 

Although the affections of Jane had sustained a blow, her pride hadreceived a greater, and no persuasions of her mother or sister couldinduce her to leave her room. She talked little, but once or twice sheyielded to the affectionate attentions of Emily, and poured out hersorrows into the bosom of her sister. At such moments she would declareher intention of never appearing in the world again. One of theseparoxysms of sorrow was witnessed by her mother, and, for the first time, self-reproach mingled in the grief of the matron. Had she trusted less toappearances and to the opinions of indifferent and ill-judgingacquaintances, her daughter might have been apprized in season of thecharacter of the man who had stolen her affections. To a direct exhibitionof misery Lady Moseley was always sensible, and, for the moment, shebecame alive to its causes and consequences; but a timely and judicioussafeguard against future moral evils was a forecast neither her inactivityof mind nor abilities were equal to. 

We shall leave Jane to brood over her lover's misconduct, while we regretshe is without the consolation alone able to bear her up against themisfortunes of life, and return to the other personages of our history. 

The visit to Mrs. Fitzgerald had been postponed in consequence of Jane'sindisposition; but a week after the colonel's departure, Mrs. Wilsonthought, as Jane had consented to leave her room, and Emily really beganto look pale from her confinement by the side of a sick bed, she wouldredeem the pledge she had given the recluse on the following morning. Theyfound the ladies at the cottage happy to see them, and anxious to hear ofthe health of Jane, of whose illness they had been informed by note. Afteroffering her guests some refreshments, Mrs. Fitzgerald, who appearedlaboring under a greater melancholy than usual, proceeded to make themacquainted with the incidents of her life. 

The daughter of an English merchant at Lisbon had fled from the house ofher father to the protection of an Irish officer in the service of hisCatholic Majesty: they were united, and the colonel immediately took hisbride to Madrid. The offspring of this union were a son and daughter. Theformer, at an early age, had entered into the service of his king, andhad, as usual, been bred in the faith of his ancestors; but the SeñoraMcCarthy had been educated, and yet remained a Protestant, and, contraryto her faith to her husband, secretly instructed her daughter in the samebelief. At the age of seventeen, a principal grandee of the court ofCharles sought the hand of the general's child. The Conde d'Alzada was amatch not to be refused, and they were united in the heartless and formalmanner in which marriages are too often entered into, in countries wherethe customs of society prevent an intercourse between the sexes. The Condenever possessed the affections of his wife. Of a stern and unyieldingdisposition, his harshness repelled her love; and as she naturally turnedher eyes to the home of her childhood, she cherished all those peculiarsentiments she had imbibed from her mother. Thus, although she appeared tothe world a Catholic, she lived in secret a Protestant. Her parents hadalways used the English language in their family, and she spoke it asfluently as the Spanish. To encourage her recollections of this strongfeature, which distinguished the house of her father from the others sheentered, she perused closely and constantly those books which the death ofher mother placed at her disposal. These were principally Protestant workson religious subjects, and the countess became a strong sectarian, withoutbecoming a Christian. As she was compelled to use the same books inteaching her only child, the Donna Julia, English, the consequences of theoriginal false step of her grandmother were perpetuated in the person ofthis young lady. In learning English, she also learned to secede from thefaith of her father, and entailed upon herself a life of eitherpersecution or hypocrisy. The countess was guilty of the unpardonableerror of complaining to their child of the treatment she received from herhusband; and as these conversations were held in English, and wereconsecrated by the tears of the mother, they made an indelible impressionon the youthful mind of Julia, who grew up with the conviction that nextto being a Catholic herself, the greatest evil of life was to be the wifeof one. 

On her attaining her fifteenth year, she had the misfortune (if it couldbe termed one) to lose her mother, and within the year her fatherpresented to her a nobleman of the vicinity as her future husband. Howlong the religious faith of Julia would have endured, unsupported byexample in others, and assailed by the passions soliciting in behalf of ayoung and handsome cavalier, it might be difficult to pronounce; but assuitor was neither very young, and the reverse of very handsome, it iscertain the more he wooed, the more confirmed she became in her heresy, until, in a moment of desperation, and as an only refuge against hissolicitations, she candidly avowed her creed. The anger of her father wasviolent and lasting: she was doomed to a convent, as both a penance forher sins and a means of reformation. Physical resistance was not in herpower, but mentally she determined never to yield. Her body was immured, but her mind continued unshaken and rather more settled in her belief, bythe aid of those passions which had been excited by injudicious harshness. For two years she continued in her novitiate, obstinately refusing to takethe vows of the order, and at the end of that period the situation of hercountry had called her father and uncle to the field as defenders of therights of their lawful prince. Perhaps to this it was owing that harshermeasures were not adopted in her case. 

The war now raged around them in its greatest horrors, until at length ageneral battle was fought in the neighborhood, and the dormitories of thepeaceful nuns were crowded with wounded British officers. Amongst othersof his nation was a Major Fitzgerald, a young man of strikingly handsomecountenance and pleasant manners. Chance threw him under the moreimmediate charge of Julia: his recovery was slow, and for a time doubtful, and as much owing to good nursing as science. The major was grateful, andJulia unhappy as she was beautiful. That love should be the offspring ofthis association, will excite no surprise. A brigade of British encampingin the vicinity of the convent, the young couple sought its protectionfrom Spanish vengeance and Romish cruelty. They were married by thechaplain of the brigade, and for a month they were happy. 

As Napoleon was daily expected in person at the seat of war, his generalswere alive to their own interests, if not to that of their master. Thebody of troops in which Fitzgerald had sought a refuge, being an advancedparty of the main army, were surprised and defeated with loss. After doinghis duty as a soldier at his post, the major, in endeavoring to secure theretreat of Julia, was intercepted, and they both fell into the hands ofthe enemy. They were kindly treated, and allowed every indulgence theirsituation admitted, until a small escort of prisoners was sent to thefrontiers; in this they were included, and had proceeded to theneighborhood of the Pyrenees, when, in their turn, the French wereassailed suddenly, and entirely routed; and the captive Spaniards, ofwhich the party, with the exception of our young couple, consisted, released. As the French guard made a resistance until overpowered bynumbers, an unfortunate ball struck Major Fitzgerald to the earth--hesurvived but an hour, and died where he fell, on the open field. AnEnglish officer, the last of his retiring countrymen, was attracted by thesight of a woman weeping over the body of a fallen man, and approachedthem. In a few words Fitzgerald explained his situation to this gentleman, and exacted a pledge from him to guard his Julia, in safety, to his motherin England. 

The stranger promised everything the dying husband required, and by thetime death had closed the eyes of Fitzgerald, he had procured from somepeasants a rude conveyance, into which the body, with its almost equallylifeless widow, were placed. The party which intercepted the convoy ofprisoners, had been out from the British camp on other duty, but itscommander hearing of the escort, had pushed rapidly into a country coveredby the enemy to effect their rescue; and his service done, he wascompelled to make a hasty retreat to ensure his own security. To this wasowing the indifference, which left the major to the care of the Spanishpeasantry who had gathered to the spot, and the retreating troops had gotseveral miles on their return, before the widow and her protectorcommenced their journey. It was impossible to overtake them, and theinhabitants acquainting the gentleman that a body of French dragoons werealready harassing their rear, he was compelled to seek another route tothe camp. This, with some trouble and no little danger, he at lasteffected; and the day following the skirmish, Julia found herself lodgedin a retired Spanish dwelling, several miles within the advanced posts ofthe British army. The body of her husband was respectfully interred, andJulia was left to mourn her irretrievable loss, uninterrupted by anythingbut by the hasty visits of the officer in whose care she had beenleft--visits which he stole from his more important duties as a soldier. 

A month glided by in this melancholy manner, leaving to Mrs. Fitzgeraldthe only consolation she would receive--her incessant visits to the graveof her husband. The calls of her protector, however, became more frequent;and at length he announced his intended departure for Lisbon, on his wayto England. A small covered vehicle, drawn by one horse, was to conveythem to the city, at which place he promised to procure her a femaleattendant, and necessaries for the voyage home. It was no time or placefor delicate punctilio; and Julia quietly, but with a heart nearly broken, prepared to submit to the wishes of her late husband. After leaving thedwelling, the manners of her guide sensibly altered; he becamecomplimentary and assiduous to please, but in a way rather to offend thanconciliate; until his attentions became so irksome, that Julia actuallymeditated stopping at some of the villages through which they passed, andabandoning the attempt of visiting England entirely. But the desire tocomply with Fitzgerald's wish, that she would console his mother for theloss of an only child, and the dread of the anger of her relatives, determined her to persevere until they reached Lisbon, where she wasresolved to separate for ever from the disagreeable and unknown guardianinto whose keeping she had been thrown by chance. 

The last day of their weary ride, while passing a wood, the officer so farforgot his own character and Julia's misfortunes, as to offer personalindignities. Grown desperate from her situation, Mrs. Fitzgerald sprangfrom the vehicle, and by her cries attracted the notice of an officer whowas riding express on the same road with themselves. He advanced to herassistance at speed, but as he arrived near them, a pistol fired from thecarriage brought his horse down, and the treacherous friend was enabled toescape undetected. Julia endeavored to explain her situation to herrescuer; and by her distress and appearance, satisfied him at once of itstruth. Within a short time, a strong escort of light dragoons came up, andthe officer despatched some for a conveyance, and others in pursuit ofthat disgrace to the army, the villanous guide: the former was soonobtained, but no tidings could be had of the latter. The carriage wasfound at a short distance, without the horse and with the baggage ofJulia, but with no vestige of its owner. She never knew his name, andeither accident or art had so completely enveloped him in mystery, thatall efforts to unfold it then were fruitless, and had continued so eversince. 

On their arrival in Lisbon, every attention was shown to the disconsolatewidow the most refined delicacy could, dictate, and every comfort andrespect were procured for her which the princely fortune, high rank, andhigher character of the Earl of Pendennyss, could, command. It was thisnobleman, who, on his way from head-quarters with despatches for England, had been the means of preserving Julia from a fate worse than death. Apacket was in waiting for the earl, and they proceeded in her for home. The Donna Lorenza was the widow of a subaltern Spanish officer, who hadfallen under the orders and near Pendennyss, and the interest he took inher brave husband had induced him to offer her, in the destruction of herlittle fortune by the enemy, his protection: for near two years he hadmaintained her at Lisbon and now, judging her a proper person, hadpersuaded her to accompany Mrs. Fitzgerald to England. 

On the passage, which was very tedious, the earl became more intimatelyacquainted with the history and character of his young friend, and by acourse of gentle yet powerful expedients had drawn her mind gradually fromits gloomy contemplation of futurity, to a juster sense of good and evilThe peculiarity of her religious persuasion afforded an introduction tofrequent discussions of the real opinions of that church, to which Juliahad hitherto belonged, although ignorant of all its essential and vitaltruths. These conversations, which were renewed repeatedly in theirintercourse while under the protection of his sister in London, laid thefoundations of a faith which left her nothing to hope for but the happytermination of her earthly probation. 

The mother of Fitzgerald was dead, and as he had no near relative left, Julia found herself alone in the world. Her husband had taken theprecaution to make a will in season it was properly authenticated, and hiswidow, by the powerful assistance of Pendennyss, was put in quietpossession of a little independency. It was while waiting the decision ofthis affair that Mrs. Fitzgerald resided for a short time near Bath. Assoon as it was terminated, the earl and his sister had seen her settled inher present abode, and once since had they visited her; but delicacy hadkept him away from the cottage, although his attempts to serve her hadbeen constant, though not always successful. He had, on his return toSpain, seen her father, and interceded with him on her behalf, but invain. The anger of the Spaniard remained unappeased, and for a season hedid not renew his efforts; out having heard that her father wasindisposed, Julia had employed the earl once more to make her peace withhim, without prevailing. The letter the ladies had found her weeping overwas from Pendennyss, informing her of his want of success on thatoccasion. 

The substance of the foregoing narrative was related by Mrs. Fitzgerald toMrs. Wilson, who repeated it to Emily in their ride home. The compassionof both ladies was strongly moved in behalf of the young widow; yet Mrs. Wilson did not fail to point out to her niece the consequences ofdeception, and chiefly the misery which had followed from an abandonmentof some of the primary duties of life--obedience and respect to her parentEmily, though keenly alive to all the principles inculcated by her aunt, found so much to be pitied in the fate of her friend, that her failingslost their proper appearance in her eyes, and for a while she could thinkof nothing but Julia and her misfortunes. Previously to their leaving thecottage, Mrs. Fitzgerald, with glowing cheeks and some hesitation, informed Mrs. Wilson she had yet another important communication to make, but would postpone it until her next visit, which Mrs. Wilson promisedshould be on the succeeding day. 

Chapter XXVII. 

Emily threw a look of pleasure on Denbigh, as he handed her from thecarriage, which would have said, if looks could talk, "In the principlesyou have displayed on more than one occasion, I have a pledge of _your_worth. " As he led her into the house, he laughingly informed her that hehad that morning received a letter which would make his absence from L----necessary for a short time, and that he must remonstrate against theselong and repeated visits to a cottage where all attendants of the male sexwere excluded, as they encroached greatly on his pleasures andimprovements, bowing, as he spoke, to Mrs. Wilson. To this Emily replied, gaily, that possibly, if he conducted himself to their satisfaction; theywould intercede for _his_ admission. Expressing his pleasure at thispromise, as Mrs. Wilson thought rather awkwardly, Denbigh changed theconversation. At dinner he repeated to the family what he had mentioned toEmily of his departure, and also his expectation of meeting with LordChatterton during his journey. 

"Have you heard from Chatterton lately, John?" inquired Sir EdwardMoseley. 

"Yes, sir, to-day: he had left Denbigh Castle a fortnight since, andwrites he is to meet his friend, the duke, at Bath. "

"Are you connected with his grace, Mr. Denbigh?" asked Lady Moseley. 

A smile of indefinite meaning played on the expressive face of Denbigh, ashe answered slightly--

"On the side of my father, madam. "

"He has a sister, " continued Lady Moseley, willing to know more ofChatterton's friends and Denbigh's relatives. 

"He has, " was the brief reply. 

"Her name is Harriet, " observed Mrs. Wilson. Denbigh bowed his assent insilence, and Emily timidly added--

"Lady Harriet Denbigh?"

"Lady Harriet Denbigh--will you do me the favor to take wine?"

The manner of the gentleman during this dialogue had not been in the leastunpleasant, but it was peculiar; it prohibited anything further on thesubject; and Emily was obliged to be content without knowing who Marianwas, or whether her name was to be found in the Denbigh family or not. Emily was not in the least jealous, but she wished to know all to whom herlover was dear. 

"Do the Dowager and the young ladies accompany Chatterton?" asked SirEdward, as he turned to John, who was eating his fruit in silence. 

"Yes, sir--I hope--that is, I believe she will, " was the answer. 

"She! Who is she, my son?"

"Grace Chatterton, " said John, starting from his meditations. "Did you notask me about Grace, Sir Edward?"

"Not particularly, I believe, " said the baronet, dryly. 

Denbigh again smiled: it was a smile different from any Mrs. Wilson hadever seen on his countenance, and gave an entirely novel expression to hisface; it was full of meaning it was knowing--spoke more of the man of theworld than anything she had before noticed in him, and left on her mindone of those vague impressions she was often troubled with, that there wassomething about Denbigh in character or condition, or both, that wasmysterious. 

The spirit of Jane was too great to leave her a pining or pensive maiden;yet her feelings had sustained a shock that time alone could cure. Sheappeared again amongst her friends; but the consciousness of herexpectations with respect to the colonel being known to them, threw aroundher a hauteur and distance very foreign to her natural manner. Emilyalone, whose every movement sprang from the spontaneous feelings of herheart, and whose words and actions were influenced by the finest and mostaffectionate delicacy, such as she was not conscious of possessingherself, won upon the better feelings of her sister so far, as to restorebetween them the usual exchange of kindness and sympathy. But Janeadmitted no confidence; she found nothing consoling, nothing solid, tojustify her attachment to Egerton; nothing indeed, excepting such externaladvantages as she was now ashamed to admit had ever the power over herthey in reality had possessed. The marriage of the fugitives in Scotlandhad been announced; and as the impression that Egerton was to be connectedwith the Moseleys was destroyed of course, their every-day acquaintances, feeling the restraints removed that such an opinion had once imposed, werefree in their comments on his character. Sir Edward and Lady Moseley wereastonished to find how many things to his disadvantage were generallyknown; that he gambled--intrigued--and was in debt--were no secretsapparently to anybody, but to those who were most interested in knowingthe truth; while Mrs. Wilson saw in these facts additional reasons forexamining and judging for ourselves; the world uniformly concealing fromthe party and his friends their honest opinions of his character. Some ofthese insinuations reached the ears of Jane: her aunt having rightlyjudged, that the surest way to destroy Egerton's power over theimagination of her niece was to strip him of his fictitious qualities, suggested this expedient to Lady Moseley; and some of their visitors hadthough as the colonel had certainly been attentive to Miss Moseley, itwould give her pleasure to know that her rival had not made the mosteligible match in the kingdom. The project of Mrs. Wilson succeeded in agreat measure; but although Egerton fell, Jane did not find she rose inHer own estimation; and her friends wisely concluded that time was theonly remedy that could restore her former serenity. 

In the morning, Mrs. Wilson, unwilling to have Emily present at aconversation she intended to hold with Denbigh, with a view to satisfy herannoying doubts as to some minor points in his character, after excusingherself to her niece, invited that gentleman to a morning drive. Heaccepted her invitation cheerfully; and Mrs. Wilson saw, it was only asthey drove from the door without Emily, that he betrayed the faintestreluctance to the jaunt. When they had got a short distance from the lodgeshe acquainted him with her intention of presenting him to Mrs. Fitzgerald, whither she had ordered the coachman to proceed. Denbighstarted as she mentioned the name, and after a few moments' silence, desired Mrs. Wilson to allow him to stop the carriage; he was not verywell--was sorry to be so rude--but with her permission, he would alightand return to the house. As he requested in an earnest manner that shewould proceed without him, and by no means disappoint her friend, Mrs. Wilson complied; yet, somewhat at a loss to account for his suddenillness, she turned her head to see how the sick man fared, a short timeafter he had left her, and was not a little surprised to see him talkingvery composedly with John who had met him on his way to the fields withhis gun. Lovesick--thought Mrs. Wilson with a smile; and as she rode onshe came to the conclusion, that as Denbigh was to leave them soon, Emilywould have an important communication to make on her return. 

"Well, " thought Mrs. Wilson with a sigh, "if it is to happen, it may aswell be done at once. "

Mrs. Fitzgerald was expecting her, and appeared rather pleased thanotherwise that she had come alone. After some introductory conversation, the ladies withdrew by themselves, and Julia acquainted Mrs. Wilson with anew source of uneasiness. The day the ladies had promised to visit her, but had been prevented by the arrangements for the ball, the Donna Lorenzahad driven to the village to make some purchases, attended as usual bytheir only man-servant, and Mrs. Fitzgerald was sitting in the littleparlor in momentary expectation of her friends by herself. The sound offootsteps drew her to the door, which she opened for the admission of thewretch whose treachery to her dying husband's requests had given her somuch uneasiness. Horror--fear--surprise--altogether, prevented her from, making any alarm at the moment, and she sank into a chair. He stoodbetween her and the door, as he endeavored to draw her into aconversation; he assured her she had nothing to fear; that he loved her, and her alone; that he was about to be married to a daughter of Sir EdwardMoseley, but would give her up, fortune, everything, if she would consentto become his wife--that the views of her protector, he doubted not, weredishonorable--that he himself was willing to atone for his former excessof passion, by a life devoted to her. 

How much longer he would have gone on, and what further he would haveoffered, is unknown; for Mrs. Fitzgerald, having recovered herself alittle, darted to the bell on the other side of the room; he tried toprevent her ringing it, but was too late; a short struggle followed, whenthe sound of the footsteps of the maid compelled him to retreatprecipitately. Mrs. Fitzgerald added, that his assertion concerning MissMoseley had given her incredible uneasiness, and prevented her making thecommunication yesterday; but she understood this morning through her maid, that a Colonel Egerton, who had been supposed to be engaged to one of SirEdward's daughters, had eloped with another lady. That Egerton was herpersecutor, she did not now entertain a doubt; but that it was in thepower of Mrs. Wilson probably to make the discovery, as in the strugglebetween them for the bell, a pocket-book had fallen from the breast-pocketof his coat, and his retreat was too sudden to recover it. 

As she put the book into the hands of Mrs. Wilson, she desired she wouldtake means to return it to its owner; its contents might be of value, though she had not thought it correct to examine it. Mrs. Wilson took thebook, and as she dropped it into her work-bag, smiled at the Spanishpunctilio of her friend in not looking into her prize under the peculiarcircumstances. 

A few questions as to the place and year of his first attempts, soonconvinced her it was Egerton whose unlicensed passions had given so muchtrouble to Mrs. Fitzgerald. He had served but one campaign in Spain, andin that year, and that division of the army; and surely _his principles_were no restraint upon his conduct. Mrs. Fitzgerald begged the advice ofher more experienced friend as to the steps she ought to take; to whichthe former asked if she had made Lord Pendennyss acquainted with theoccurrence. The young widow's cheek glowed as she answered, that, at thesame time she felt assured the base insinuation of Egerton was unfounded, it had created a repugnance in her to troubling the earl any more than wasnecessary in her affairs; and as she kissed the hand of Mrs. Wilson sheadded--"besides, your goodness, my dear madam, renders any other adviserunnecessary now. " Mrs. Wilson pressed her hand affectionately, and assuredher of her good wishes and unaltered esteem. She commended her delicacy, and plainly told the young widow, that how ever unexceptionable thecharacter of Pendennyss might be, a female friend was the only one a womanin her situation could repose confidence in, without justly incurring thesarcasms of the world. 

As Egerton was now married, and would not probably offer, for the presentat least, any further molestation to Mrs. Fitzgerald, it was concluded tobe unnecessary to take any immediate measures of precaution; and Mrs. Wilson thought the purse of Mr. Jarvis might be made the means of keepinghim within proper bounds in future. The merchant was prompt, and noteasily intimidated; and the slightest intimation of the truth would, sheknew, be sufficient to engage him on their side, heart and hand. 

The ladies parted, with a promise of meeting soon again, and an additionalinterest in each other by the communications of that and the precedingday. 

Mrs. Wilson had ridden half the distance between the cottage and thelodge, before it occurred to her they had not absolutely ascertained, bythe best means in their possession, the identity of Colonel Egerton withJulia's persecutor. She accordingly took the pocket-book from her bag, andopened it for examination: a couple of letters fell from it into her lap, and conceiving their direction would establish all she wished to know, asthey had been read, she turned to the superscription of one of them, andsaw--"George Denbigh, Esq. " in the well known hand-writing of Dr. Ives. --Mrs. Wilson felt herself overcome to a degree that compelled herto lower a glass of the carriage for air. She sat gazing on the lettersuntil the characters swam before her eyes in undistinguished confusion;and with difficulty she rallied her thoughts to the point necessary forinvestigation. As soon as she found herself equal to the task, sheexamined the letters with the closest scrutiny, and opened them both to besure there was no mistake. She saw the dates, the "dear George" at thecommencements, and the doctor's name subscribed, before she would believethey were real; it was then the truth appeared to break upon her in aflood of light. The aversion of Denbigh to speak of Spain, or of hisservices in that country--his avoiding Sir Herbert Nicholson, and thatgentleman's observations respecting him--Colonel Egerton's and his ownmanners--his absence from the ball, and startling looks on the followingmorning, and at different times before and since--his displeasure at thename of Pendennyss on various occasions--and his cheerful acceptance ofher invitation to ride until he knew her destination, and singular mannerof leaving her--were all accounted for by this dreadful discovery, andMrs. Wilson found the solution of her doubts rushing on her mind with aforce and rapidity that sickened her. 

The misfortunes of Mrs. Fitzgerald, the unfortunate issue to the passionof Jane, were trifles in the estimation of Mrs. Wilson, compared to thediscovery of Denbigh's unworthiness. She revolved in her mind his conducton various occasions, and wondered how one who could behave so well incommon, could thus yield to temptation on a particular occasion. Hisrecent attempts, his hypocrisy, however, proved that his villany wassystematic, and she was not weak enough to hide from herself the evidenceof his guilt, or of its enormity. His interposition between Emily anddeath, she attributed now to natural courage, and perhaps in some measureto chance; but his profound and unvarying reverence for holy things, hisconsistent charity, his refusing to fight, to what were they owing? AndMrs. Wilson mourned the weakness of human nature, while she acknowledgedto her self, there might be men, qualified by nature, and even disposed byreason and grace, to prove ornaments to religion and the world, who fellbeneath the maddening influence of their besetting sins. The superficialand interested vices of Egerton vanished before these awful and deeplyseated offences of Denbigh, and the correct widow saw at a glance, that hewas the last man to be intrusted with the happiness of her niece; but howto break this heartrending discovery to Emily was a new source ofuneasiness to her, and the carriage stopped at the door of the lodge, ereshe had determined on the first step required of her by duty. 

Her brother handed her out, and, filled with the dread that Denbigh hadavailed himself of the opportunity of her absence to press his suit withEmily, she eagerly inquired after him. She was rejoiced to hear he hadreturned with John for a fowling-piece, and together they had gone inpursuit of game, although she saw in it a convincing proof that a desireto avoid Mrs. Fitzgerald, and not indisposition, had induced him to leaveher. --As a last alternative, she resolved to have the pocket-book returnedto him in her presence, in order to see if he acknowledged it to be hisproperty; and, accordingly, she instructed her own man to hand it to himwhile at dinner, simply saying he had lost it. 

The open and unsuspecting air with which her niece met Denbigh on hisreturn gave Mrs. Wilson an additional shock, and she could hardly commandherself sufficiently to extend the common courtesies of good breeding toMr. Benfield's guest. 

While sitting at the dessert, her servant handed the pocket book, asdirected by his mistress, to its owner, saying, "Your pocket-book, Ibelieve, Mr. Denbigh. " Denbigh took the book, and held it in his hand fora moment in surprise, and then fixed his eye keenly on the man, as heinquired where he found it, and how he knew it was his. These wereinterrogatories Francis was not prepared to answer, and in his confusionhe naturally turned his eyes on his mistress. Denbigh followed theirdirection with his own, and in encountering the looks of the lady, heasked in a stammering manner, and with a face of scarlet, "Am I indebted to you, madam, for my property?"

"No, sir; it was given me by one who found it, to restore to you, " saidMrs. Wilson, gravely, and the subject was dropped, both appearing willingto say no more. Yet Denbigh was abstracted and absent during the remainderof the repast, and Emily spoke to him once or twice without obtaining ananswer. Mrs. Wilson caught his eye several times fixed on her with aninquiring and doubtful expression, that convinced her he was alarmed. Ifany confirmation of his guilt had been wanting, the consciousness hebetrayed during this scene afforded it; and she set seriously aboutconsidering the shortest and best method of interrupting his intercoursewith Emily, before he had drawn from her an acknowledgment of her love. 

Chapter XXVIII. 

On withdrawing to her dressing-room after dinner, Mrs. Wilson commencedthe disagreeable duty of removing the veil from the eyes of her niece, byrecounting to her the substance of Mrs. Fitzgerald's last communication. To the innocence of Emily such persecution could excite no othersensations than surprise and horror; and as her aunt omitted the partconcerning the daughter of Sir Edward Moseley, she naturally expressed herwonder as to who the wretch could be. 

"Possibly, aunt, " she said with an involuntary shudder, "some of the manygentlemen we have lately seen, and one who has had art enough to concealhis real character from the world. "

"Concealment, my love, " replied Mrs. Wilson, "would be hardly necessary. Such is the fashionable laxity of morals, that I doubt not many of hisassociates would laugh at his misconduct, and that he would still continueto pass with the world as an honorable man. "

"And ready, " cried her niece, "to sacrifice human life, in the defence ofany ridiculous punctilio. "

"Or, " added Mrs. Wilson, striving to draw nearer to her subject, "with acloser veil of hypocrisy, wear even an affectation of principle and moralfeeling that would seem to forbid such a departure from duty in favor ofcustom. "

"Oh! no, dear aunt, " exclaimed Emily, with glowing cheeks and eyes dancingwith pleasure, "he would hardly dare to be so very base. It would beprofanity. "

Mrs. Wilson sighed heavily as she witnessed that confiding esteem whichwould not permit her niece even to suspect that an act which in Denbighhad been so warmly applauded, could, even in another, proceed fromunworthy motives; and she found it would be necessary to speak in theplainest terms, to awaken her suspicions. Willing, however, to comegradually to the distressing truth, she replied--

"And yet, my dear, men who pride themselves greatly on their morals, nay, even some who wear the mask of religion, and perhaps deceive themselves, admit and practise this very appeal to arms. Such inconsistencies are byno means uncommon. And why, then, might there not, with equal probability, be others who would revolt at murder, and yet not hesitate being guilty oflesser enormities? This is, in some measure, the case of every man; and itis only to consider killing in unlawful encounters as murder, to make itone in point. "

"Hypocrisy is so mean a vice, I should not think a brave man could stoopto it, " said Emily, "and Julia admits he was brave. "

"And would not a brave man revolt at the cowardice of insulting anunprotected woman? And your hero did that too, " replied Mrs. Wilson, bitterly, losing her self-command in indignation. 

"Oh! do not call him my hero, I beg of you, dear aunt, " said Emily, starting, excited by so extraordinary an allusion, but instantly losingthe unpleasant sensation in the delightful consciousness of thesuperiority of the man on whom she had bestowed her own admiration. 

"In fact, my child, " continued her aunt, "our natures are guilty of thegrossest inconsistencies. The vilest wretch has generally some property orwhich he values himself, and the most perfect are too often frail on sometender point. Long and tried friendships are those only which can betrusted, and these oftentimes fail. "

Emily looked at her aunt in surprise at hearing her utter such unusualsentiments; for Mrs. Wilson, at the same time she had, by divineassistance, deeply impressed her niece with the frailty of her nature, hadwithheld the disgusting representation of human vices from her view, asunnecessary to her situation and dangerous to her humility. 

After a short pause, Mrs. Wilson continued, "Marriage is a fearful step ina woman, and one she is compelled, in some measure, to adventure herhappiness on, without fitting opportunities of judging of the merit of theman she confides in. Jane is an instance in point, but I devoutly hope youare not to be another. "

While speaking, Mrs. Wilson had taken the hand of Emily, and by her looksand solemn manner she had succeeded in alarming her niece, althoughDenbigh was yet furthest from the thoughts of Emily. The aunt reached hera glass of water, and willing to get rid of the hateful subject shecontinued, hurriedly, "Did you not notice the pocket-book Francis gave toMr. Denbigh?" Emily fixed her inquiring eyes on her aunt, as the otheradded, "It was the one Mrs. Fitzgerald gave me to-day. " Something like anindefinite glimpse of the facts crossed the mind of Emily; and as it mostobviously involved a separation from Denbigh, she sank lifeless into theextended arms of her aunt. This had been anticipated by Mrs. Wilson, and atimely application of restoratives soon brought her back to aconsciousness of misery. Mrs. Wilson, unwilling any one but herself shouldwitness this first burst of grief, succeeded in getting her niece to herown room and in bed. Emily made no lamentations--shed no tears--asked noquestions--her eye was fixed, and every faculty appeared oppressed withthe load on her heart. Mrs. Wilson knew her situation too well to intrudewith unseasonable consolation or useless reflections, but sat patiently byher side, waiting anxiously for the moment she could be of service. Atlength the uplifted eyes and clasped hands of Emily assured her she hadnot forgotten herself or her duty, and she was rewarded for her labor andforbearance by a flood of tears. Emily was now able to listen to a morefull statement of the reasons her aunt had for believing in the guilt ofDenbigh, and she felt as if her heart was frozen up for ever, as theproofs followed each other until they amounted to demonstration. As therewas some indication of fever from her agitated state of mind, her auntrequired she should remain in her room until morning; and Emily, feelingevery way unequal to a meeting with Denbigh, gladly assented After ringingfor her maid to sit in the adjoining room, Mrs. Wilson went below, andannounced to the family the indisposition of her charge, and her desire toobtain a little sleep. Denbigh looked anxious to inquire after the healthof Emily, but there was a restraint on all his actions, since the returnof his book, that persuaded Mrs. Wilson he apprehended that a detection ofhis conduct had taken place. He did venture to ask when they were to havethe pleasure of seeing Miss Moseley again, hoping it would be thatevening, as he had fixed the morning for his departure; and when he learntthat Emily had retired for the night, his anxiety was sensibly increased, and he instantly withdrew. Mrs. Wilson was alone in the drawing-room, andabout to join her niece, as, Denbigh entered it with a letter in his hand:he approached her with a diffident and constrained manner, and commencedthe following dialogue:

"My anxiety and situation will plead my apology for troubling Miss Moseleyat this time--may I ask you, madam, to deliver this letter--I hardly dareask you for your good offices. "

Mrs. Wilson took the letter, and coldly replied, "Certainly, sir; and I sincerely wish I could be of any real service toyou. "

"I perceive, madam, " said Denbigh, like one that was choking, "I haveforfeited your good opinion--that pocket book--"

"Has made a dreadful discovery, " said Mrs. Wilson, shuddering. 

"Will not one offence be pardoned, dear madam?" cried Denbigh, withwarmth; "if you knew my circumstances--the cruel reasons--why--why did Ineglect the paternal advice of Doctor Ives?"

"It is not yet too late, sir, " said Mrs. Wilson, more mildly, "for yourown good; as for us, your deception--"

"Is unpardonable--I see it--I feel it, " cried he, in the accent ofdespair; "yet Emily--Emily may relent--you will at least give her myletter--anything is better than this suspense. "

"You shall have an answer from Emily this evening, and one entirelyunbiassed by me, " said Mrs. Wilson. As she closed the door, she observedDenbigh gazing on her retiring figure with a countenance of despair, thatcaused a feeling of pity to mingle with her detestation of his vices. 

On opening the door of Emily's room, Mrs. Wilson found her niece in tears, and her anxiety for her health was alleviated. She knew or hoped, that ifshe could once call in the assistance of her judgment and piety to lessenher sorrows, Emily, however she might mourn, would become resigned to hersituation; and the first step to attain this was the exercise of thosefaculties which had been, as it were, momentarily annihilated. Mrs. Wilsonkissed her niece with tenderness, as she placed the letter in her hand, and told her she would call for her answer within an hour. Employment, andthe necessity of acting, would, she thought, be the surest means ofreviving her energies; nor was she disappointed. When the aunt returnedfor the expected answer, she was informed by the maid in the ante-chamber, that Miss Moseley was up, and had been writing. On entering, Mrs. Wilsonstood a moment in admiration of the picture before her. Emily was on herknees, and by her side, on the carpet, lay the letter and its answer: herface was hid by her hair, and her hands were closed in the fervent graspof petition. In a minute she rose, and approaching her aunt with an air ofprofound resignation, but great steadiness, she handed her the letters, her own unsealed:

"Read them, madam, and if you approve of mine, I will thank you to deliverit. "

Her aunt folded her in her arms, until Emily, finding herself yieldingunder the effects of sympathy, begged to be left alone. On withdrawing toher own room, Mrs. Wilson read the contents of the two letters. 

"I rely greatly on the goodness of Miss Moseley to pardon the liberty I amtaking, at a moment she is so unfit for such a subject; but mydeparture--my feelings--- must plead my apology. From the moment of myfirst acquaintance with you, I have been a cheerful subject to yourloveliness and innocence. I feel--I know--I am not deserving of such ablessing; but since knowing you, as I do, it is impossible not to striveto win you. You have often thanked me as the preserver of your life, butyou little knew the deep interest I had in its safety. Without it my ownwould be valueless. By accepting my offered hand, you will place meamongst the happiest, or by rejecting it, the most wretched of men. "

To this note, which was unsigned, and evidently written under greatagitation of mind, Emily had-penned the following reply:

"Sir--It is with much regret that I find myself reduced to the possibilityof giving uneasiness to one to whom I am under such heavy obligations. Itwill never be in my power to accept the honor you have offered me; and Ibeg you to receive my thanks for the compliment conveyed in your request, as well as my good wishes for your happiness in future, and ferventprayers that you may be ever found worthy of it--Your humble servant, "EMILY MOSELEY. "

Perfectly satisfied with this answer, Mrs. Wilson went below in order todeliver it at once. She thought it probable, as Denbigh had already senthis baggage to a tavern, preparatory to his intended journey, they wouldnot meet again; and as she felt a strong wish, both on account of DoctorIves, and out of respect to the services of the young man himself, toconceal his conduct from the world entirely, she was in hopes that hisabsence might make any disclosure unnecessary. He took the letter from herwith a trembling hand, and casting one of his very expressive looks ather, as if to read her thoughts, he withdrew. 

Emily had fallen asleep free from fever, and Mrs. Wilson had descended tothe supper-room, when Mr. Benfield was first struck with the absence ofhis favorite. An inquiry after Denbigh was instituted, and while they werewaiting his appearance, a servant handed the old man a note. 

"From whom?" cried Mr. Benfield, in surprise. 

"Mr. Denbigh, sir, " said the servant. 

"Mr. Denbigh?" exclaimed Mr. Benfield: "no accident, I hope--I rememberwhen Lord Gosford--here, Peter, your eyes are young; read it for me, readit aloud. "

As all but Mrs. Wilson were anxiously waiting to know the meaning of thismessage, and Peter had many preparations to go through before his youthfuleyes could make out the contents, John hastily caught the letter out ofhis hand, saying he would save him the trouble, and, in obedience to hisuncle's wishes, he read aloud:

"Mr. Denbigh, being under the necessity of leaving L---- immediately, andunable to endure the pain of taking leave, avails himself of this means oftendering his warmest thanks to Mr. Benfield, for his hospitality, and tohis amiable guests for their many kindnesses. As he contemplates leavingEngland, he desires to wish them all a long and an affectionate farewell. "

"Farewell!" cried Mr. Benfield; "farewell--does he say farewell, John?Here, Peter, run--no, you are too old--John, run--bring my hat; I'll gomyself to the village--some love-quarrel--Emmy sick--and Denbigh goingaway--yes--yes, I did so myself--Lady Juliana, poor dear soul, she was along time before she could forget it--but Peter"--Peter had disappearedthe instant the letter was finished, and he was quickly followed by John. Sir Edward and Lady Moseley were lost in amazement at this sudden andunexpected movement of Denbigh, and the breast of each of the affectionateparents was filled with a vague apprehension that the peace of mind ofanother child was at stake. Jane felt a renewal of her woes, in theanticipation of something similar for her sister--for the fancy of Janewas yet active, and she did not cease to consider the defection of Egertona kind of unmerited misfortune and fatality, instead of a probableconsequence of want of principle. Like Mr. Benfield, she was in danger ofraising an ideal idol, and of spending the remainder of her days indevotion to qualities, rarely if ever found identified with a person thatnever had existed. The old gentleman was entirely engrossed by a differentobject; and having in his own opinion decided there must have been one ofthose misunderstandings which sometimes had occurred to himself and LadyJuliana, he quietly composed himself to eat his salad at the supper table:on turning his head, however, in quest of his first glass of wine, heobserved Peter standing quietly by the sideboard with the favorite gogglesover his eyes. Now Peter was troubled with two kinds of debility about hisorgans of vision; one was age and natural weakness, while the otherproceeded more directly from the heart. His master knew of these facts, and he took the alarm. Again the wine-glass dropped from his nervelesshand, as he said in a trembling tone, "Peter, I thought you went"--

"Yes, master, " said Peter, laconically. 

"You saw him, Peter--will he return?"

Peter was busily occupied at his glasses, although no one was dry. 

"Peter, " repeated Mr. Benfield, rising from his seat; "is he coming intime for supper?"

Peter was obliged to reply, and deliberately uncasing his eyes and blowinghis nose, he was on the point of opening his mouth, as John came into theroom, and threw himself into a chair with an air of great vexation. Peterpointed to the young gentleman in silence, and retired. 

"John, " cried Sir Edward, "where is Denbigh?"

"Gone, sir. "

"Gone!"

"Yes, my dear father, " said John, "gone without saying good-bye to one ofus--without telling us whither, or when to return. It was cruel in him---unkind--I'll never forgive him"--and John, whose feelings were strong, and unusually excited, hid his face between his hands on the table. --As heraised his head to reply to a question of Mr. Benfield--of "how he knew hehad gone, for the coach did not go until daylight?" Mrs. Wilson sawevident marks of tears. Such proofs of emotion in one like John Moseleygave her the satisfaction of knowing that if she had been deceived, it wasby a concurrence of circumstances and a depth of hypocrisy almostexceeding belief: self-reproach added less than common, therefore, to theuneasiness of the moment. 

"I saw the innkeeper, uncle, " said John, "who told me that Denbigh leftthere at eight o'clock in a post-chaise and four; but I will go to Londonin the morning myself. " This was no sooner said than it was corroboratedby acts, for the young man immediately commenced his preparations for thejourney. The family separated that evening with melancholy hearts; and thehost and his privy counsellor were closeted for half an hour ere theyretired to their night's repose. John took his leave of them, and left thelodge for the inn, with his man, in order to be ready for the mail. Mrs, Wilson looked in upon Emily before she withdrew herself, and found herawake, but perfectly calm and composed: she said but little, appearingdesirous of avoiding all allusions to Denbigh; and after her aunt hadsimply acquainted her with his departure, and her resolution to concealthe cause, the subject was dropped. Mrs. Wilson, on entering her own room, thought deeply on the discoveries of the day: they had interfered with herfavorite system of morals, baffled her ablest calculations upon causes andeffects, but in no degree had impaired her faith or reliance onProvidence. She knew one exception did not destroy a rule: she was certainwithout principles there was no security for good conduct, and the caseof Denbigh proved it. To discover these principles, might be difficult;but was a task imperiously required at her hands, as she believed, ere sheyielded the present and future happiness of her pupil to the power of anyman. 

Chapter XXIX. 

The day had not yet dawned, when John Moseley was summoned to take hisseat in the mail for London. Three of the places were already occupied, and John was compelled to get a seat for his man on the outside. Anintercourse with strangers is particularly irksome to an Englishman, andnone appeared disposed, for a long time, to break the silence. The coachhad left the little village of L---- far behind it, before any of therational beings it contained thought it prudent or becoming to bend in theleast to the charities of our nature, in a communication with a fellowcreature of whose name or condition he happened to be ignorant. Thisreserve is unquestionably characteristic of the nation; to what is itowing!--modesty? Did not national and deep personal vanity appear at onceto refute the assertion, we might enter into an investigation of it. Thegood opinion of himself in an Englishman is more deeply seated, thoughless buoyant, than that of his neighbors; in them it is more of manner, inus more of feeling; and the wound inflicted on the self-love of the two isvery different. The Frenchman wonders at its rudeness, but soon forgetsthe charge; while an Englishmam broods over it in silence andmortification. It is said this distinction in character is owing to thedifferent estimation of principles and morals in the two nations. Thesolidity and purity of our ethics and religious creeds may have given asuperior tone to our moral feeling; but has that man a tenable ground tovalue himself on either, whose respect to sacred things grows out of arespect to himself: on the other hand, is not humility the veryfoundation of the real Christian? For our part, we should be glad to seethis national reserve lessened, if not done entirely away; we believe itis founded in pride and uncharitableness, and could wish to see men thrownaccidentally together on the roads of the country, mindful that they arealso travelling in company the highway of life, and that the goal of theirdestination is equally attainable by all. 

John Moseley was occupied with thoughts very different from those of anyof his fellow-travellers, as they proceeded rapidly on their route; and itwas only when roused from his meditations by accidentally coming incontact with the hilt of a sword, that he looked up, and in theglimmerings of the morning's light, recognised the person of Lord HenryStapleton: their eyes met, and--"My lord, "--"Mr. Moseley, "--were repeatedin mutual surprise. John was eminently a social being, and he was happy tofind recourse against his gloomy thoughts in the conversation of thedashing young sailor. The frigate of the other had entered the bay thenight before, and he was going to town to the wedding of his sister; thecoach of his brother the marquis was to meet him about twenty miles fromtown, and the ship was ordered round to Yarmouth, where he was to rejoinher. 

"But how are your lovely sisters, Moseley?" cried the young sailor in afrank and careless manner. "I should have been half in love with one ofthem if I had time--and money; both are necessary to marriage nowadays, you know. "

"As to time, " said John with a laugh, "I believe that may be dispensedwith, though money is certainly a different thing. "

"Oh, time too, " replied his lordship. "I have never time enough to doanything as it ought to be done--always hurried--I wish you couldrecommend to me a lady who would take the trouble off my hands. "

"It might be done, " said John with a smile, and the image of KateChatterton crossed his brain, but it was soon succeeded by that of hermore lovely sister. "But how do you manage on board your ship--hurriedthere too?"

"Oh! never there, " replied the captain gravely; "that's duty you know, andeverything must be regular of course on shore it is a differentthing--there I am only a passenger. L---- has a charming society, Mr. Moseley--a week or ten days ago I was shooting, and came to a beautifulcottage about five miles from the village, that was the abode of a muchmore beautiful woman, a Spaniard, a Mrs. Fitzgerald--I am positively inlove with her: so soft, so polished, so modest----"

"How came you acquainted with her?" inquired Moseley, interrupting him ina little surprise. 

"Chance, my dear fellow, chance. I was thirsty, and approached for a drinkof water; she was sitting in the veranda, and being hurried for time, youknow, it saved the trouble of introduction. I fancy she is troubled withthe same complaint; for she managed to get rid of me in no time, and witha great deal of politeness. I found out her name, however, at the nexthouse. "

During this rattling talk, John had fixed his eyes on the face of one ofthe passengers who sat opposite to him. The stranger appeared to be aboutfifty years of age, strongly pock-marked, with a stiff military air, andhad the dress and exterior of a gentlemen. His face was much sun-burnt, though naturally very fair; and his dark keen eye was intently fixed onthe sailor as he continued his remarks. 

"Do you know such a lady, Moseley?"

"Yes, " said John, "though very slightly; she is visited one of mysisters, and--"

"Yourself, " cried Lord Henry, with a laugh. 

"Myself, once or twice, my lord, certainly, " answered John, gravely; "buta lady visited by Emily Moseley and Mrs. Wilson is a proper companion forany one. Mrs. Fitzgerald is very retired in her manner of living, andchance made us acquainted; but not being, like your lordship, in want oftime, we have endeavored to cultivate her society, as we have found itvery agreeable. "

The countenance of the stranger underwent several changes during thisspeech of John's, and at its close his eyes rested on him with a softerexpression than generally marked its rigid and compressed muscles. Willingto change a discourse that was growing too particular for a mail-coach, John addressed himself to the opposite passengers, while his eye yet dwelton the face of the military stranger. 

"We are likely to have a fine day, gentlemen. " The soldier bowed stiffly, as he smiled his assent, and the other passenger humbly answered, "Very, Mr. John, " in the well known tones of honest Peter Johnson. Moseleystarted, as he turned his face for the first time on the lank figure whichwas modestly compressed into the smallest possible compass in the cornerof the coach, in a way not to come in contact with any of its neighbors. 

"Johnson, " exclaimed John, in astonishment, "you here! Where are yougoing--to London?"

"To London, Mr. John, " replied Peter, with a look of much importance; andthen, by way of silencing further interrogatories, he added, "On mymaster's business, sir. "

Both Moseley and Lord Henry examined him closely; the former wonderingwhat could take the steward, at the age of seventy, for the first time inhis life, into the vortex of the capital; and the latter in admiration atthis figure and equipments of the old man. Peter was in full costume, withthe exception of the goggles, and was in reality a subject to be gazed at;but nothing relaxed the muscles or attracted the particular notice of thesoldier, who, having regained his set form of countenance, appeared drawnup in himself, waiting patiently for the moment he was expected to act. Nor did he utter more than as many words in the course of the first fiftymiles of their journey. His dialect was singular, and such as put hishearers at a loss to determine his country. Lord Henry stared at him everytime he spoke, as if to say, what countryman are you? until at length hesuggested to John he was some officer whom the downfall of Bonaparte haddriven into retirement. 

"Indeed, Moseley, " he added, as they were about to resume their carriageafter a change of horses, "we must draw him out, and see what he thinks ofhis master now--delicately, you know. " The soldier was, however, impervious to his lordship's attacks, until the project was finallyabandoned in despair. As Peter was much too modest to talk in the presenceof Mr. John Moseley and a lord, the young men had most of the discourse tothemselves. At a village fifteen miles from London, a fashionable carriageand four, with the coronet of a marquis was in waiting for Lord Henry. John refused his invitation to take a seat with him to town; for he hadtraced Denbigh from stage to stage, and was fearful of losing sight ofhim, unless he persevered in the manner he had commenced. Peter and heaccordingly were put down safely at an inn in the Strand, and Moseleyhastened to make his inquiries after the object of his pursuit. Such achaise had arrived an hour before, and the gentleman had ordered his trunkto a neighboring hotel. After obtaining the address, and ordering ahackney coach, he hastened to the house; but on inquiring for Mr. Denbigh, to his great mortification was told they knew of no suchgentleman. John turned away from the person he was speaking to in visibledisappointment, when a servant respectfully inquired if the gentleman hadnot come from L----, in Norfolk, that day. "He had, " was the reply. "Thenfollow me, sir, if you please. " They knocked at a door of one of theparlors, and the servant entered: he returned, and John was shown into aroom, where Denbigh was sitting with his head resting on his hand, andapparently musing. On seeing who required admittance, he sprang from hisseat and exclaimed--

"Mr. Moseley! Do I see aright?"

"Denbigh, " cried John, stretching out his hand to him, "was this kind--wasit like yourself--to leave us so unexpectedly, and for so long a time, too, as your note mentioned?"

Denbigh waved his hand to the servant to retire, and handed a chair to hisfriend. 

"Mr. Moseley, " said he, struggling with his feelings, "you appear ignorantof my proposals to your sister. "

"Perfectly, " answered the amazed John. 

"And her rejection of them. "

"Is it possible!" cried the brother, pacing up and down the room. "Iacknowledge I did expect you to offer, but not to be refused. "

Denbigh placed in the other hand the letter of Emily, which, having read, John returned, with a sigh. "This, then, is the reason you left us, " hecontinued. "Emily is not capricious--it cannot be a sudden pique--shemeans as she says. "

"Yes, Mr. Moseley, " said Denbigh, mournfully; "your sister isfaultless--but I am not worthy of her--my deception"--here the door againopened to the admission of Peter Johnson. Both the gentlemen rose at thissudden interruption, and the steward advancing to the table, once moreproduced the formidable pocket-book, the spectacles, and a letter. He ranover its direction--"For George Denbigh, Esquire, London, by the hands ofPeter Johnson, with care and speed. " After the observance of thesepreliminaries, he delivered the missive to its lawful owner, who openedit, and rapidly perused its contents. Denbigh was much affected withwhatever the latter might be, and kindly took the steward by the hand, ashe thanked him for this renewed instance of the interest he took in him. If he would tell him where a letter would find him in the morning, hewould send a reply to the one he had received. Peter gave his address, butappeared unwilling to go, until assured again and again that the answerwould be infallibly sent. Taking a small account-book out of his pocket, and referring to its contents, the steward said, "Master has with Coutts &Co. £7, 000; in the bank, £5, 000. It can be easily done, sir, and neverfelt by us. " Denbigh smiled in reply, as he assured the steward he wouldtake proper notice of his master's offers in his own answer. The dooragain opened, and the military stranger was admitted to their presence. Hebowed, appeared not a little surprised to find two of his mail-coachcompanions there, and handed Denbigh a letter, in quite as formal, although in a more silent manner than the steward. The soldier was invitedto be seated, and the letter was perused with an evident curiosity on thepart of Denbigh. As soon as the latter ended it, he addressed the strangerin a language which John rightly judged to be Spanish, and Peter took tobe Greek. For a few minutes the conversation was maintained between themwith great earnestness, his fellow travellers marvelling much at thegarrulity of the soldier however, the stranger soon rose to retire, whenthe door thrown open for the fourth time, and a voice cried out, "Here I am, George, safe and sound--ready to kiss the bridesmaids, ifthey will let me--and I can find time--- bless me, Moseley!--oldmarling-spike!--general!--whew, where is the coachman and guard?"--it wasLord Henry Stapleton. The Spaniard bowed again in silence and withdrew, while Denbigh threw open the door of an adjoining room and excusedhimself, as he desired Lord Henry to walk in there for a few minutes. 

"Upon my word, " cried the heedless sailor, as he complied, "we might aswell have stuck together, Moseley; we were bound to one port, it seems. "

"You know Lord Henry?" said John, as he withdrew. 

"Yes, " said Denbigh, and he again required his address of Peter, whichhaving been given, the steward departed. The conversation between the twofriends did not return to the course it was taking when they wereinterrupted, as Moseley felt a delicacy in making any allusion to theprobable cause of his sister's refusal. He had, however, begun to hope itwas not irremovable, and with the determination of renewing his visit inthe morning, he took his leave, to allow Denbigh to attend to his otherguest, Lord Henry Stapleton. 

About twelve on the following morning, John and the steward met at thedoor of the hotel where Denbigh lodged, in quest of the same person. Thelatter held in his hand the answer to his master's letter, but wishedparticularly to see its writer. On inquiring, to their mutual surprisethey were told, that the gentleman had left there early in the morning, having discharged his lodgings, and that they were unable to say whitherhe had gone. To hunt for a man without a clew, in the city of London, isusually time misspent Of this Moseley was perfectly sensible, anddisregarding a proposition of Peter's, he returned to his own lodgings. The proposal of the steward, if it did not do much credit to hissagacity, was much in favor of his perseverance and enterprise. It was noother than that John should take one side of the street, and he the other, in order to inquire at every house in the place, until the fugitive wasdiscovered. "Sir, " said Peter, with great simplicity, "when our neighborWhite lost his little girl, this was the way we found her, although wewent nearly through L---- before we succeeded, Mr. John. " Peter wasobliged to abandon this expedient for want of an associate, and as nomessage was left at the lodgings of Moseley, he started with a heavy hearton his return to Benfield Lodge. But Moseley's zeal was too warm in thecause of his friend, notwithstanding his unmerited desertion, todiscontinue the search for him. He sought out the town residence of theMarquess of Eltringham, the brother of Lord Henry, and was told that boththe Marquess and his brother had left town early that morning for his seatin Devonshire, to attend the wedding of their sister. 

"Did they go alone?" asked John musing. 

"There were two chaises, the Marquess's and his Grace's"

"Who was his Grace?" inquired John. 

"Why the Duke of Derwent, to be sure. "

"And the Duke?--was he alone?"

"There was a gentleman with his Grace, but they did not know his name. "

As nothing further could be learnt, John withdrew. A good deal ofirritation mixed with the vexation of Moseley at his disappointment; forDenbigh, he thought, too evidently wished to avoid him. That he was thecompanion of his kinsman, the Duke of Derwent, he had now no doubt, and heentirely relinquished all expectations of finding him in London or itsenvirons. While retracing his steps in no enviable state of mind to hislodgings, with a resolution of returning immediately to L----, his arm wassuddenly taken by his friend Chatterton. If any man could have consoledJohn at that moment, it was the Baron. Questions and answers were rapidlyexchanged between them; and with increased satisfaction, John learnt thatin the next square, he could have the pleasure of paying his respects tohis kinswoman, the Dowager Lady Chatterton, and her two daughters. Chatterton inquired warmly after Emily, and in a particularly kind mannerconcerning Mr. Denbigh, hearing with undisguised astonishment the absenceof the latter from the Moseley family. 

Lady Chatterton had disciplined her feelings upon the subject of Grace andJohn into such a state of subordination, that the fastidious jealousy ofthe young man now found no ground of alarm in anything she said or did. Itcannot be denied the Dowager was delighted to see him again; and if itwere fair to draw any conclusions from coloring, palpitations, and othersuch little accompaniments of female feeling, Grace was not excessivelysorry. It is true, it was the best possible opportunity to ascertain allabout her friend Emily and the rest of the family; and Grace was extremelyhappy to have intelligence of their general welfare so direct as wasafforded by this visit of Mr. Moseley. Grace looked all she expressed, andpossibly a little more; and John thought he looked very beautiful. 

There was present an elderly gentleman, of apparently indifferent health, although his manners were extremely lively, and his dress particularlystudied. A few minutes observation convinced Moseley this gentleman was acandidate for the favor of Kate; and a game of chess being soonintroduced, he also saw he was one thought worthy of peculiar care andattention. He had been introduced to him as Lord Herriefield, and soondiscovered by his conversation that he was a peer who promised littletowards rendering the house of incurables more convalescent than it wasbefore his admission. Chatterton mentioned him as a distant connexion ofhis mother; a gentleman who had lately returned from filling an officialsituation in the East Indies, to take his seat among the lords by thedeath of his brother. He was a bachelor, and reputed rich, much of hiswealth being personal property, acquired by himself abroad. The dutifulson might have added, if respect and feeling had not kept him silent, thathis offers of settling a large jointure upon his elder sister had beenaccepted, and that the following week was to make her the bride of theemaciated debauchee who now sat by her side. He might also have said, thatwhen the proposition was made to himself and Grace, both had shrunk fromthe alliance with disgust: and that both had united in humble though vainremonstrances to their mother, against the sacrifice, and in petitions totheir sister, that she would not be accessary to her own misery. There wasno pecuniary sacrifice they would not make to her, to avert such aconnexion; but all was fruitless--Kate was resolved to be a viscountess, and her mother was equally determined that she should be rich. 

Chapter XXX. 

A day elapsed between the departure of Denbigh and the reappearance ofEmily amongst her friends. An indifferent observer would have thought hermuch graver and less animated than usual. A loss of the rich color whichordinarily glowed on her healthful cheek might be noticed; but the placidsweetness and graceful composure which regulated her former conductpervaded all she did or uttered. Not so with Jane: her pride had sufferedmore than her feelings--her imagination had been more deceived than herjudgment--and although too well bred and soft by nature to become rude orcaptious, she was changed from a communicative, to a reserved; from aconfiding, to a suspicious companion. Her parents noticed this alterationwith an uneasiness that was somewhat embittered by the consciousness of aneglect of some of those duties that experience now seemed to indicate, could never be forgotten with impunity. 

Francis and Clara had arrived from their northern tour, so happy in eachother, and so contented with their lot, that it required some littleexercise of fortitude in both Lady Moseley and her daughters, to expelunpleasant recollections while they contemplated it. Their relation of thelittle incidents of their tour had, however, an effect to withdraw theattention of their friends in some degree from late occurrences; and amelancholy and sympathizing kind of association had taken place of theunbounded confidence and gaiety; which so lately prevailed at BenfieldLodge. Mr. Benfield mingled with his solemnity an air of mystery; and hewas frequently noticed by his relatives looking over old papers, and wasapparently employed in preparations that indicated movements of more thanusual importance. 

The family were collected in one of the parlors on an extremely unpleasantday, the fourth after the departure of John, when the thin person ofJohnson stalked in amongst them. All eyes were fixed on him in expectationof what he had to communicate, and all apparently dreading to break thesilence, from an apprehension that his communication would be unpleasant. In the meantime Peter, who had respectfully left his hat at the door, proceeded to uncase his body from the multiplied defences he had takenagainst the inclemency of the weather. His master stood erect, with anoutstretched hand, ready to receive the reply to his epistle; and Johnsonhaving liberated his body from thraldom, produced the black leathernpocket-book, and from its contents a letter, when he read aloud--RodericBenfield, Esq. , Benfield Lodge, Norfolk; favored by Mr. --here Peter'smodesty got the better of his method; he had never been called Mr. Johnsonby anybody, old or young; all knew him in that neighborhood as PeterJohnson--and he had very nearly been guilty of the temerity of arrogatingto himself another title in the presence of those he most respected: adegree of self-elevation from which he escaped with the loss of a smallpiece of his tongue. Mr. Benfield took the letter with an eagerness thatplainly indicated the deep interest he took in its contents, while Emily, with a tremulous voice and flushed cheek, approached the steward with aglass of wine. 

"Peter, " she said, "take this; it will do you good. "

"Thank you, Miss Emma, " said Peter, casting his eyes from her to hismaster, as the latter, having finished his letter, exclaimed, with astrange mixture of consideration and disappointment--

"Johnson, you must change your clothes immediately, or you will takecold: you look now like old Moses, the Jew beggar. "

Peter sighed heavily at this comparison, and saw in it a confirmation ofhis fears; for he well knew, that to his being the bearer of unpleasanttidings was he indebted for a resemblance to anything unpleasant to hismaster, and Moses was the old gentleman's aversion. 

The baronet now followed his uncle from the room to his library, enteringit at the same moment with the steward, who had been summoned by hismaster to an audience. 

Pointing to a chair for his nephew, Mr. Benfield commenced the discoursewith saying, "Peter, you saw Mr. Denbigh; how did he look?"

"As usual, master, " said Peter, laconically, still piqued at being likenedto old Moses. 

"And what did he say to the offer? did he not make any comments on it? Hewas not offended at it, I hope, " demanded Mr. Benfield. 

"He said nothing but what he has written to your honor, " replied thesteward, losing a little of his constrained manner in real good feeling tohis master. 

"May I ask what the offer was?" inquired Sir Edward. 

Mr. Benfield regarding him a moment in silence, said, "Certainly, you arenearly concerned in his welfare; your daughter"--the old man stopped, turned to his letter-book, and handed the baronet a copy of the epistle hehad sent to Denbigh. It read as follows:

DEAR FRIEND MR. DENBIGH, "I have thought a great deal on the reason of your sudden departure from ahouse I had begun to hope you thought your own; and by calling to mind myown feelings when Lady Juliana became the heiress to her nephew's estate, take it for granted you have been governed by the same sentiments; which Iknow both by my own experience and that of the bearer, Peter Johnson, is anever-failing accompaniment of pure affection. Yes, my dear Denbigh, Ihonor your delicacy in not wishing to become indebted to a stranger, as itwere, for the money on which you subsist, and that stranger your wife--whoought in reason to look up to you, instead of your looking up to her;which was the true cause Lord Gosford would not marry the countess--onaccount of her great wealth, as he assured me himself; notwithstanding, envious people said it was because her ladyship loved Mr Chaworth better:so in order to remove these impediments of delicacy, I have to make threepropositions, namely, that I bring you into parliament the next electionfor my own borough--that you take possession of the lodge the day youmarry Emmy, while I will live, for the little time I have to stay here, inthe large cottage built by my uncle--and that I give you your legacy often thousand pounds down, to prevent trouble hereafter. 

"As I know nothing but delicacy has driven you away from us, I make nodoubt you will now find all objections removed, and that Peter will bringback the joyful intelligence of your return to us, as soon as the businessyou left us on, is completed. 

"Your uncle, that is to be, "RODERIC BENFIELD. "

"N. B. As Johnson is a stranger to the ways of the town, I wish you toadvise his inexperience, particularly against the arts of designing women, Peter being a man of considerable estate, and great modesty. "

"There, nephew, " cried Mr. Benfield, as the baronet finished reading theletter aloud, "is it not unreasonable to refuse my offers? Now read hisanswer. "

"Words are wanting to express the sensations which have been excited byMr. Benfield's letter; but it would be impossible for any man to be sobase as to avail himself of such liberality: the recollection of it, together with that of his many virtues, will long continue deeplyimpressed on the heart of him, whom Mr. Benfield would, if within thepower of man, render the happiest amongst human beings. "

The steward listened eagerly to this answer, but after it was done he wasas much at a loss to know its contents as before its perusal. He knew itwas unfavorable to their wishes, but could not comprehend its meaning orexpressions, and immediately attributed their ambiguity to the strangeconference he had witnessed between Denbigh and the military stranger. 

"Master, " exclaimed Peter, with something of the elation of a discoverer, "I know the cause, it shows itself in the letter: there was a man talkingGreek to him while he was reading your letter. "

"Greek!" exclaimed Sir Edward in astonishment. 

"Greek!" said the uncle. "Lord Gosford read Greek; but I believe neverconversed in that language. "

"Yes, Sir Edward--yes, your honor--pure wild Greek; it must have beensomething of that kind, " added Peter, with positiveness, "that would makea man refuse such offers--Miss Emmy--the lodge--£10, 000!"--and the stewardshook his head with much satisfaction at having discovered the cause. 

Sir Edward smiled at the simplicity of Johnson, but disliking the ideaattached to the refusal of his daughter, said, "Perhaps, after all, uncle, there has been some misunderstanding between Emily and Denbigh, which may have driven him from us so suddenly. "

Mr. Benfield and his steward exchanged looks, and a new idea broke uponthem at the instant. They had both suffered in that way; and after all itmight prove that Emily was the one whose taste or feelings had subvertedtheir schemes. The impression, once made, soon became strong, and theparty separated; the master thinking alternately on Lady Juliana and hisniece, while the man, after heaving one heavy sigh to the memory of PattySteele, proceeded to the usual occupations of his office. 

Mrs. Wilson thinking a ride would be of service to Emily, and having thefullest confidence in her self-command and resignation, availed herself ofa fine day to pay a visit to their friend in the cottage. Mrs. Fitzgeraldreceived them in her usual manner, but a single glance of her eye sufficedto show the aunt that she noticed the altered appearance of Emily and hermanners, although without knowing its true reason, which she did not deemit prudent to explain. Julia handed her friend a note which she said shehad received the day before, and desired their counsel how to proceed inthe present emergency. As Emily was to be made acquainted with itscontents, her aunt read it aloud as follows:

"MY DEAR NIECE, "Your father and myself had been induced to think you were leading adisgraceful life, with the officer your husband had consigned you to thecare of; for hearing of your captivity, I had arrived with a band ofGuerillas, on the spot where you were rescued, early the next morning, andthere learnt of the peasants your misfortunes and retreat. The enemypressed us too much to allow us to deviate from our route at the time;but natural affection and the wishes of your father have led me to make ajourney to England, in order to satisfy our doubts as regards yourconduct. I have seen you, heard your character in the neighborhood, andafter much and long search have found out the officer, and am satisfied, that so far as concerns your deportment, you are an injured woman. I havetherefore to propose to you, on my own behalf, and that of the Conde, thatyou adopt the faith, of your country, and return with me to the arms ofyour parent, whose heiress you will be, and whose life you may be themeans of prolonging. Direct your answer to me, to the care of ourambassador; and as you decide, I am your mother's brother, LOUIS M'CARTHYY HARRISON. "

"On what point do you wish my advice?" said Mrs. Wilson, kindly, after shehad finished reading the letter, "and when do you expect to see youruncle?"

"Would you have me accept the offer of my father, dear madam, or am I toremain separated from him for the short residue of his life?"

Mrs. Fitzgerald was affected to tears, as she asked this question, andwaited her answer, in silent dread of its nature. 

"Is the condition of a change of religion, an immovable one?" inquiredMrs. Wilson, in a thoughtful manner. 

"Oh! doubtless, " replied Julia, shuddering; "but I am deservedly punishedfor my early disobedience, and bow in submission to the will ofProvidence. I feel now all that horror of a change of my religion, I onceonly affected; I must live and die a Protestant, madam. "

"Certainly, I hope so, my dear, " said Mrs. Wilson; "I am not a bigot, andthink it unfortunate you were not, in your circumstances, bred a piousCatholic. It would have saved you much misery, and might have renderedthe close of your father's life more happy; but as your present creedembraces doctrines too much at variance with the Romish church to renouncethe one or to adopt the other, with your views, it will be impossible tochange your church without committing a heavy offence against the opinionsand practices of every denomination of Christians. I should hope a properrepresentation of this to your uncle would have its weight, or they mightbe satisfied with your being a Christian, without becoming a Catholic. "

"Ah! my dear madam, " answered Mrs. Fitzgerald, despairingly, "you littleknow the opinions of my countrymen on this subject. "

"Surely, surely, " cried Mrs. Wilson, "parental affection is a strongerfeeling than bigotry. "

Mrs. Fitzgerald shook her head in a manner which bespoke both herapprehensions and her filial regard. 

"Julia ought not, must not, desert her father, dear aunt, " said Emily, herface glowing with the ardency of her feelings. 

"And ought she to desert her heavenly Father, my child?" asked the aunt, mildly. 

"Are the duties conflicting, dearest aunt?"

"The Conde makes them so. Julia is, I trust, in sincerity a Christian, andwith what face can she offer up her daily petitions to her Creator, whileshe wears a mask to her earthly father; or how can she profess to honordoctrines that she herself believes to be false, or practise customs shethinks improper?"

"Never, never, " exclaimed Julia, with fervor; "the struggle is dreadful, but I submit to the greater duty. "

"And you decide rightly, my friend, " said Mrs. Wilson, soothingly; "butyou need relax no efforts to convince the Conde of your wishes: truth andnature will finally conquer. "

"Ah!" cried Mrs. Fitzgerald, "the sad consequences of one false step inearly life!"

"Rather, " added Mrs, Wilson, "the sad consequences of one false step ingenerations gone by. Had your grandmother listened to the voice ofprudence and duty, she never would have deserted her parents for acomparative stranger, and entailed upon her descendants a train of evilswhich yet exist in your person. "

"It will be a sad blow to my poor uncle too, " said Mrs. Fitzgerald, "hewho once loved me so much. "

"When do you expect to see him?" inquired Emily. 

Julia informed them she expected him hourly; as, fearful a writtenstatement of her views would drive him from the country without paying hera visit before he departed, she had earnestly entreated him to see herwithout delay. 

On taking their leave, the ladies promised to obey her summons whenevercalled to meet the general, as Mrs. Wilson thought she might be betterable to give advice to a friend, by knowing more of the character of herrelatives, than she could do with her present information, One day intervened, and it was spent in the united society of Lady Moseleyand her daughters, while Sir Edward and Francis rode to a neighboring townon business; and on the succeeding, Mrs. Fitzgerald apprised them of thearrival of General M'Carthy. Immediately after breakfast, Mrs. Wilson andEmily drove to the cottage, the aunt both wishing the latter as acompanion in her ride, and believing the excitement would have a tendencyto prevent her niece from indulging in reflections, alike dangerous to herpeace of mind and at variance with her duties. 

Our readers have probably anticipated, that the stage companion of JohnMoseley was the Spanish general, who had just been making those inquiriesinto the manner of his niece's living which terminated so happily in heracquittal. With that part of her history which relates to the injuriousattempts on her before she arrived at Lisbon, he appears to have beenignorant, or his interview with Denbigh might have terminated verydifferently from the manner already related. 

A description of the appearance of the gentleman presented to Mrs. Wilsonis unnecessary, as it has been given already; and the discerning matronthought she read through the rigid and set features of the soldier, ashade of kinder feelings, which might be wrought into an advantageousintercession on behalf of Julia. The General was evidently endeavoring tokeep his feelings within due bounds, before the decision of his niecemight render it proper for him to indulge in that affection for her, whichhis eye plainly showed existed under the cover of his assumed manner. 

It was an effort of great fortitude on the part of Julia to acquaint heruncle with her resolution; but as it must be done, she seized a momentafter Mrs. Wilson had at some length defended her adhering to her presentfaith, until religiously impressed with its errors, to inform him such washer unalterable resolution. He heard her patiently, and without anger, butin visible surprise. He had construed her summons to her house into ameasure preparatory to accepting his conditions; yet he betrayed noemotion, after the first expression of his wonder: he told her distinctly, a renunciation of her heresy was the only condition on which her fatherwould own her either as his heiress or his child. Julia deeply regrettedthe decision, but was firm; and her friends left her to enjoyuninterruptedly for one day, the society of so near a relative. Duringthis day every doubt as to the propriety of her conduct, if any yetremained, was removed by a relation of her little story to her uncle; andafter it was completed, he expressed great uneasiness to get to Londonagain, in order to meet a gentleman he had seen there, under a differentimpression as to his merits, than what now appeared to be just. Who thegentleman was, or what these impressions were, Julia was left toconjecture, taciturnity being a favorite property in the general. 

Chapter XXXI. 

The sun had just risen on one of the loveliest vales of Caernarvonshire, as a travelling chaise and six swept up to the door of a princely mansion, so situated as to command a prospect of the fertile and extensive domains, the rental of which filled the coffers of its rich owner, having abeautiful view of the Irish channel in the distance. 

Everything around this stately edifice bespoke the magnificence of itsancient possessors and the taste of its present master. It was irregular, but built of the best materials, and in the tastes of the different agesin which its various parts had been erected; and now in the nineteenthcentury it preserved the baronial grandeur of the thirteenth, mingled withthe comforts of this later period. 

The lofty turrets of its towers were tipt with the golden light of thesun, and the neighboring peasantry had commenced their daily labors, asthe different attendants of the equipage we have mentioned collectedaround it at the great entrance to the building. The beautiful blackhorses, with coats as shining as the polished leather with which they werecaparisoned, the elegant and fashionable finish of the vehicle, with itsnumerous grooms, postillions, and footmen, all wearing the livery of onemaster, gave evidence of wealth and rank. 

In attendance there were four outriders, walking leisurely about, awaitingthe appearance of those for whose comforts and pleasures they were kept tocontribute; while a fifth, who, like the others, was equipped with ahorse, appeared to bear a doubtful station. The form of the latter wasathletic, and apparently drilled into a severer submission than could beseen in the movements of the liveried attendants: his dress was peculiar, being neither quite menial nor quite military, but partaking of bothcharacters. His horse was heavier and better managed than those of theothers, and by its side was a charger, that was prepared for the use of nocommon equestrian. Both were coal-black, as were all the others of thecavalcade; but the pistols of the two latter, and housings of theirsaddles, bore the aspect of use and elegance united. 

The postillions were mounted, listlessly waiting the pleasure of theirsuperiors; when the laughs and jokes of the menials were instantlysucceeded by a respectful and profound silence, as a gentleman and ladyappeared on the portico of the building. The former was a young man ofcommanding stature and genteel appearance; and his air, although that ofone used to command, was softened by a character of benevolence andgentleness, that might be rightly supposed to give birth to the willingalacrity with which all his requests or orders were attended to. 

The lady was also young, and resembled her companion both in features andexpression, for both were noble, both were handsome. The former wasattired for the road; the latter had thrown a shawl around her elegantform, and by her morning dress showed that a separation of the two wasabout to happen. Taking the hand of the gentleman with both her own, asshe pressed it with fingers interlocked, the lady said, in a voice ofmusic, and with great affection, "Then, my dear brother, I shall certainly hear from you within the week, and see you next?"

"Certainly, " replied the gentleman, as he tenderly paid his adieus; thenthrowing himself into the chaise, it dashed from the door, like thepassage of a meteor. The horsemen followed; the unridden charger, obedientto the orders of his keeper, wheeled gracefully into his station; and inan instant they were all lost amidst the wood, through which the road tothe park gates conducted. 

After lingering without until the last of her brother's followers hadreceded from her sight, the lady retired through ranks of liveried footmenand maids, whom curiosity or respect had collected. 

The young traveller wore a gloom on his expressive features, amidst thepageantry that surrounded him, which showed the insufficiency of wealthand honors to fill the sum of human happiness. As his carriage rolledproudly up an eminence ere he had reached the confines of his extensivepark, his eye rested, for a moment, on a scene in which meadows, forests, fields waving with golden corn, comfortable farm-houses surrounded withinnumerable cottages, were seen, in almost endless variety. All theseowned him for their lord, and one quiet smile of satisfaction beamed onhis face as he gazed on the unlimited view. Could the heart of that youthhave been read, it would at that moment have told a story very differentfrom the feelings such a scene is apt to excite; it would have spoken theconsciousness of well applied wealth, the gratification of contemplatingmeritorious deeds, and a heartfelt gratitude to the Being which hadenabled him to become the dispenser of happiness to so many of hisfellow-creatures. 

"Which way, my lord, so early?" cried a gentleman in a phaeton, as he drewup, on his way to a watering place, to pay his own parting compliments. 

"To Eltringham, Sir Owen, to attend the marriage of my kinsman, Mr. Denbigh, to one of the sisters of the marquess. "

A few more questions and answers, and the gentlemen, exchanging friendlyadieus, pursued each his own course; Sir Owen Ap Rice pushing forward forCheltenham, and the Earl of Pendennyss proceeding to act as groomsman tohis cousin. 

The gates of Eltringham were open to the admission of many an equipage onthe following day, and the heart of the Lady Laura beat quick, as thesound of wheels, at different times, reached her ears. At last an unusualmovement in the house drew her to a window of her dressing-room, and theblood rushed to her heart as she beheld the equipages which were rapidlyapproaching, and through the mist which stole over her eyes she saw alightfrom the first, the Duke of Derwent and the bridegroom. The next containedLord Pendennyss, and the last the Bishop of----. Lady Laura waited to seeno more, but with a heart filled with terror, hope, joy, and uneasiness, she threw herself into the arms of one of her sisters. 

"Ah!" exclaimed Lord Henry Stapleton, about a week after the wedding ofhis sister, seizing John suddenly by the arm, while the latter was takinghis morning walk to the residence of the dowager Lady Chatterton, "Moseley, you dissipated youth, in town yet: you told me you should staybut a day, and here I find you at the end of a fortnight. "

John blushed a little at the consciousness of his reason for sending awritten, instead of carrying a verbal report, of the result of hisjourney, but replied, "Yes, my friend Chatterton unexpectedly arrived, and so--and so--"

"And so you did not go, I presume you mean, " cried Lord Henry, with alaugh. 

"Yes, " said John, "and so I stayed--but where is Denbigh?"

"Where?--why with his wife, where every well-behaved man should be, especially for the first month, " rejoined the sailor, gaily. 

"Wife!" echoed John, as soon as he felt able to give utterance to hiswords--"wife! is he married?"

"Married, " cried Lord Henry, imitating his manner, "are you yet to learnthat? why did you ask for him?"

"Ask for him!" said Moseley, yet lost in astonishment; "butwhen--how--where did he marry--my lord?"

Lord Henry looked at him for a moment with a surprise little short of hisown, as he answered more gravely:

"When?--last Tuesday; how? by special license, and the Bishop of----;where?--at Eltringham:--yes, my dear fellow, " continued he, with hisformer gaiety, "George is my brother now--and a fine fellow he is. "

"I really wish your lordship much joy, " said John, struggling to commandhis feelings. 

"Thank you--thank you, " replied the sailor; "a jolly time we had of it, Moseley. I wish, with all my heart, you had been there; no bolting orrunning away as soon as spliced, but a regularly constructed, old-fashioned wedding; all my doings. I wrote Laura that time was scarce, and I had none to throw away on fooleries; so dear, good soul, sheconsented to let me have everything my own way. We had Derwent andPendennyss, the marquess, Lord William, and myself, for groomsmen, and mythree sisters--ah, that was bad, but there was no helping it--Lady HarrietDenbigh, and an old maid, a cousin of ours, for bridesmaids; could nothelp the old maid either, upon my honor, or be quite certain I would. "

How much of what he said Moseley heard, we cannot say; for had he talkedan hour longer he would have been uninterrupted. Lord Henry was too muchengaged with his description to notice his companion's taciturnity orsurprise, and after walking a square or two together they parted; thesailor being on the wing for his frigate at Yarmouth. 

John continued his course, musing on the intelligence he had just heard. That Denbigh could forget Emily so soon, he would not believe, and hegreatly feared he had been driven into a step, from despair, that he mighthereafter repent of. The avoiding of himself was now fully explained; butwould Lady Laura Stapleton accept a man for a husband at so short anotice? and for the first time a suspicion that something in the characterof Denbigh was wrong, mingled in his reflections on his sister's refusalof his offers. 

Lord and Lady Herriefield were on the eve of their departure for thecontinent (for Catherine had been led to the altar the preceding week), asouthern climate having been prescribed as necessary to the bridegroom'sconstitution; and the dowager and Grace were about to proceed to a seat ofthe baron's within a couple of miles of Bath. Chatterton himself had hisown engagements, but he promised to be there in company with his friendDerwent within a fortnight; the former visit having been postponed by themarriages in their respective families. 

John had been assiduous in his attentions during the season of forcedgaiety which followed the nuptials of Kate; and as the dowager's time wasmonopolized with the ceremonials of that event, Grace had risen greatly inhis estimation. If Grace Chatterton was not more miserable than usual, atwhat she thought was the destruction of her sister's happiness, it wasowing to the presence and unconcealed affection of John Moseley. 

The carriage of Lord Herriefield was in waiting when John rang foradmittance. On opening the door and entering the drawing-room, he saw thebride and bridegroom, with their mother and sister, accoutred for anexcursion amongst the shops of Bond street: for Kate was dying to find avent for some of her surplus pin-money--her husband to show his handsomewife in the face of the world--the mother to display the triumph of hermatrimonial schemes. And Grace was forced to obey her mother's commands, in accompanying her sister as an attendant, not to be dispensed with atall in her circumstances. 

The entrance of John at that instant, though nothing more than whatoccurred every day at that hour, deranged the whole plan: the dowager, fora moment, forgot her resolution, and forgot the necessity of Grace'sappearance, exclaiming with evident satisfaction, "Here is Mr. Moseley come to keep you company, Grace; so, after all, youmust consult your headache and stay at home. Indeed, my love, I never canconsent you should go out. I not only wish, but insist you remain withinthis morning. "

Lord Herriefield looked at his mother-in-law in some surprise, and threw asuspicious glance on his own rib at the moment, which spoke as plainly aslooks can speak, "Is it possible I have been taken in after all!"

Grace was unused to resist her mother's commands, and throwing off her hatand shawl, reseated herself with more composure than she would probablyhave done, had not the attentions of Moseley been more delicate andpointed of late than formerly. 

As they passed the porter, Lady Chatterton observed to himsignificantly--"Nobody at home, Willis. "--"Yes, my lady, " was the laconicreply, and Lord Herriefield, as he took his seat by the side of his wifein the carriage, thought she was not as handsome as usual. 

Lady Chatterton that morning unguardedly laid the foundation of years ofmisery for her eldest daughter; or rather the foundations were alreadylaid in the ill-assorted, and heartless, unprincipled union she hadlabored with success to effect. But she, had that morning stripped themask from her own character prematurely, and excited suspicions in thebreast of her son-in-law, which time only served to confirm, and memory tobrood over. 

Lord Herriefield had been too long in the world not to understand all theordinary arts of match-makers and match-hunters. Like most of his own sexwho have associated freely with the worst part of the other, his opinionsof female excellences were by no means extravagant or romantic. Kate hadpleased his eye; she was of a noble family; young, and at that momentinterestingly quiet, having nothing particularly in view. She had a tasteof her own, and Lord Herriefield was by no means in conformity with it;consequently, she expended none of those pretty little arts upon him whichshe occasionally practised, and which his experience would immediatelyhave detected. Her disgust he had attributed to disinterestedness; and asKate had fixed her eye on a young officer lately returned from France, andher mother on a Duke who was mourning the death of a third wife, devisingmeans to console him with a fourth--the Viscount had got a good dealenamored with the lady, before either she or her mother took anyparticular notice that there was such a being in existence. His title wasnot the most elevated, but it was ancient. His paternal acres were notnumerous, but his East-India shares were. He was not very young, but hewas not very old; and as the Duke died of a fit of the gout in hisstomach, and the officer ran away with a girl in her teens from aboarding-school, the dowager and her daughter, after thoroughly scanningthe fashionable world, determined, for want of a better, that _he_ woulddo. 

It is not to be supposed that the mother and child held any opencommunications with each other to this effect. The delicacy and pride ofboth would have been greatly injured by such a suspicion; yet they arrivedsimultaneously at the same conclusion, as well as at another of equalimportance to the completion of their schemes on the Viscount. It wassimply to adhere to the same conduct which had made him a captive, as mostlikely to insure the victory. 

There was such a general understanding between the two it can excite nosurprise that they co-operated harmoniously as it were by signal. 

For two people, correctly impressed with their duties andresponsibilities, to arrive at the same conclusion in the government oftheir conduct, would be merely a matter of course; and so with those whoare more or less under the dominion of the world. They will pursue theirplans with a degree of concurrence amounting nearly to sympathy; and thushad Kate and her mother, until this morning, kept up the masquerade sowell that the Viscount was as confiding as a country Corydon. When hefirst witnessed the dowager's management with Grace and John, however, andhis wife's careless disregard of a thing which appeared too much a matterof course to be quite agreeable, his newly awakened distrust approachedconviction. 

Grace Chatterton both sang and played exquisitely; it was, however, seldomshe could sufficiently overcome her desire, when John was an auditor, toappear to advantage. 

As the party went down stairs, and Moseley had gone with them part of theway, she threw herself unconsciously in a seat, and began a beautifulsong, that was fashionable at the time. Her feelings were in consonancewith the words, and Grace was very happy both in execution and voice. 

John had reached the back of her seat before she was at all sensible ofhis return, and Grace lost her self-command immediately. She rose and tooka seat on a sofa, and the young man was immediately at her side. 

"Ah, Grace, " said John, the lady's heart beating high you certainly dosing as you do everything, admirably. "

"I am happy you think so, Mr. Moseley, " returned Grace looking everywherebut in his face. 

John's eyes ran over her beauties, as with palpitating bosom and varyingcolor she sat confused at the unusual warmth of his language and manner. 

Fortunately a remarkably striking likeness of the Dowager hung directlyover their heads, and John taking her unresisting hand, continued, "Dear Grace, you resemble your brother very much in features, and what isbetter still, in character. "

"I could wish, " said Grace, venturing to look up, "to resemble your sisterEmily in the latter. "

"And why not to be her sister, dear Grace?" said he with ardor. "You areworthy to become her sister. Tell me, Grace, dear Miss Chatterton--canyou--will you make me the happiest of men? may I present anotherinestimable daughter to my parents?"

As John paused for an answer, Grace looked up, and he waited her reply inevident anxiety; but she continued silent, now pale as death, and now ofthe color of the rose, and he added:

"I hope I have not offended you, dearest Grace; you are all that isdesirable to me; my hopes, my happiness, are centred in you. Unless youconsent to become my wife, I must be very wretched. "

Grace burst into a flood of tears, as her lover, interested deeply intheir cause, gently drew her towards him. Her head sank on his shoulder, as she faintly whispered something that was inaudible, but which he didnot fail to interpret into everything he most wished to hear. John was inecstasies. Every unpleasant feeling of suspicion had left him. Of Grace'sinnocence of manoeuvring he never doubted, but John did not relish theidea of being entrapped into anything, even a step which he desired. Anuninterrupted communication followed; it was as confiding as theiraffections: and the return of the dowager and her children first recalledthem to the recollection of other people. 

One glance of the eye was enough for Lady Chatterton. She saw the tracesof tears on the cheeks and in the eyes of Grace, and the dowager wassatisfied; she knew his friends would not object; and as Grace attendedher to her dressing-room, she cried on entering it, "Well, child, when isthe wedding to be? You will wear me out with so much gaiety. "

Grace was shocked, but did not as formerly weep over her mother'sinterference in agony and dread. John had opened his whole soul to her, observing the greatest delicacy towards her mother, and she now felt herhappiness placed in the keeping of a man whose honor she believed muchexceeded that of any other human being. 

Chapter XXXII. 

The seniors of the party at Benfield Lodge were all assembled one morningin a parlor, when its master and the baronet were occupied in the perusalof the London papers. Clara had persuaded her sisters to accompany her andFrancis in an excursion as far as the village. 

Jane yet continued reserved and distant to most of her friends; whileEmily's conduct would have escaped unnoticed, did not her blanched cheekand wandering looks at times speak a language not to be misunderstood. With all her relatives she maintained the affectionate intercourse she hadalways supported; though not even to her aunt did the name of Denbigh passher lips. But in her most private and humble petitions to God, she neverforgot to mingle with her requests for spiritual blessings on herself, fervent prayers for the conversion of the preserver of her life. 

Mrs. Wilson, as she sat by the side of her sister at their needles, firstdiscovered an unusual uneasiness in their venerable host, while he turnedhis paper over and over, as if unwilling or unable to comprehend some partof its contents, until he rang the bell violently, and bid the servant tosend Johnson to him without a moment's delay. 

"Peter, " said Mr. Benfield doubtingly, "read that--your eyes are young, Peter; read that. "

Peter took the paper, and after having adjusted his spectacles to hissatisfaction, he proceeded to obey his master's injunctions; but the samedefect of vision as suddenly seized the steward as it had affected hismaster. He turned the paper sideways, and appeared to be spelling thematter of the paragraph to himself. Peter would have given his threehundred a year to have had the impatient John Moseley a hand, to relievehim from his task; but the anxiety of Mr. Benfield overcoming his fear ofthe worst, he inquired in tremulous tone--

"Peter? hem! Peter, what do you think?"

"Why, your honor, " replied the steward, stealing a look at his master, "itdoes seem so indeed. "

"I remember, " said the master, "when Lord Gosford saw the marriage of thecountess announced he--"

Here the old gentleman was obliged to stop, and rising with dignity, andleaning on the arm of his faithful servant, he left the room. 

Mrs. Wilson immediately took up the paper, and her eye catching theparagraph at a glance, she read aloud as follows to her expecting friends:

"Married by special license, at the seat of the Most Noble the Marquess ofEltringham, in Devonshire, by the Right Rev. Lord Bishop of ----, GeorgeDenbigh Esq. , Lieutenant Colonel of his Majesty's ---- regiment ofdragoons, to the Right Honorable Lady Laura Stapleton, eldest sister ofthe Marquess. Eltringham was honored on the present happy occasion withthe presence of his grace of Derwent, and the gallant Lord Pendennyss, kinsmen of the bridegroom, and Captain Lord Henry Stapleton of the RoyalNavy. We understand that the happy couple proceed to Denbigh Castleimmediately after the honey-moon. "

Although Mrs. Wilson had given up the expectation of ever seeing her niecethe wife of Denbigh, she felt an indescribable shock as she read thisparagraph. The strongest feeling was horror at the danger Emily had beenin of contracting an alliance with such a man. His avoiding the ball, atwhich he knew Lord Henry was expected, was explained to her by thismarriage; for with John, she could not believe a woman like Lady LauraStapleton was to be won in the short space of one fortnight, or indeedless. There was too evidently a mystery yet to be developed, and she feltcertain one that would not elevate his character in her opinion. 

Neither Sir Edward nor Lady Moseley had given up the expectation of seeingDenbigh again, as a suitor for Emily's hand, and to both of them thiscertainty of his loss was a heavy blow. The baronet took up the paper, andafter perusing the article, he muttered in a low tone, as he wiped thetears from his eyes, "Heaven bless him: I sincerely hope she is worthy ofhim. " Worthy of him, thought Mrs. Wilson, with a feeling of indignation, as, taking up the paper, she retired to her own room, whither Emily, atthat moment returned from her walk, had proceeded. As her niece must hearthis news, she thought the sooner the better. The exercise, and theunreserved conversation of Francis and Clara, had restored in some degreethe bloom to the cheek of Emily; and Mrs. Wilson felt it necessary tostruggle with herself, before she could summon sufficient resolution toinvade the returning peace of her charge. However, having already decidedon her course, she proceeded to the discharge of what she thought to be aduty. 

"Emily, my child, " she whispered, pressing her affectionately to herbosom, "you have been all I could wish, and more than I expected, underyour arduous struggles. But one more pang, and I trust your recollectionson this painful subject will be done away. "

Emily looked at her aunt in anxious expectation of what was coming, andquietly taking the paper, followed the direction of Mrs. Wilson's fingerto the article on the marriage of Denbigh. 

There was a momentary struggle in Emily for self-command. She was obligedto find support in a chair. The returning richness of color, excited byher walk, vanished; but recovering herself, she pressed the hand of heranxious guardian, and, gently waving her back, proceeded to her own room. 

On her return to the company, the same control of her feelings which haddistinguished her conduct of late, was again visible; and, although heraunt most narrowly watched her movements, looks, and speeches, she coulddiscern no visible alteration by this confirmation of misconduct. Thetruth was, that in Emily Moseley the obligations of duty were soimperative, her sense of her dependence on Providence so humbling and yetso confiding, that, as soon as she was taught to believe her loverunworthy of her esteem, that moment an insuperable barrier separated them. His marriage could add nothing to the distance between them. It wasimpossible they could be united; and although a secret lingering of theaffections over his fallen character might and did exist, it existedwithout any romantic expectations of miracles in his favor, or vain wishesof reformation, in which self was the prominent feeling. She might be saidto be keenly alive to all that concerned his welfare or movements, if shedid not harbor the passion of love; but it showed itself in prayers forhis amendment of life, and the most ardent petitions for his future andeternal happiness. She had set about, seriously and with much energy, thetask of erasing from her heart sentiments which, however delightful shehad found it to entertain in times past, were now in direct variance withher duty. She knew that a weak indulgence of such passions would tend todraw her mind from, and disqualify her to discharge, those various callson her time and her exertions, which could alone enable her to assistothers, or effect in her own person the great purposes of her creation. Itwas never lost sight of by Emily Moseley, that her existence here waspreparatory to an immensely more important state hereafter. She wasconsequently in charity with all mankind; and if grown a little moredistrustful of the intentions of her fellow-creatures, it was a mistrustbottomed in a clear view of the frailties of our nature; andself-examination was amongst the not unfrequent speculations she made onthis hasty marriage of her former lover. 

Mrs. Wilson saw all this, and was soon made acquainted by her niece interms, with her views of her own condition; and although she had to, anddid, deeply regret, that all her caution had not been able to guardagainst deception, where it was most important for her to guide aright, yet she was cheered with the reflection that her previous care, with theblessings of Providence, had admirably fitted her charge to combat andovercome the consequences of their mistaken confidence. 

The gloom which this little paragraph excited, extended to everyindividual in the family; for all had placed Denbigh by the side of John, in their affections, ever since his weighty services to Emily. 

A letter from John announcing his intention of meeting them at Bath, aswell as his new relation with Grace, relieved in some measure this generaldepression of spirit. Mr. Benfield alone found no consolation in theapproaching nuptials. John he regarded as his nephew, and Grace he thoughta very good sort of young woman; but neither of them were beings of thesame genus with Emily and Denbigh. 

"Peter, " said he one day, after they had both been expending theiringenuity in vain efforts to discover the cause of this so-much-desiredmarriage's being so unexpectedly frustrated, "have I not often told you, that fate governed these things, in order that men might be humble in thislife? Now, Peter, had the Lady Juliana wedded with a mind congenial to herown, she might have been mistress of Benfield Lodge to this very hour. "

"Yes, your honor--but there's Miss Emmy's legacy. "

And Peter withdrew, thinking what would have been the consequences hadPatty Steele been more willing, when he wished to make her Mrs. PeterJohnson--an association by no means uncommon in the mind of the steward;for if Patty had ever a rival in his affections, it was in the person ofEmily Moseley, though, indeed, with very different degrees and coloring ofesteem. 

The excursions to the cottage had been continued by Mrs. Wilson and Emily, and as no gentleman was now in the family to interfere with theircommunications, a general visit to the young widow had been made by theMoseleys, including Sir Edward and Mr. Ives. 

The Jarvises had gone to London to receive their children, now penitent inmore senses than one; and Sir Edward learnt with pleasure that Egerton andhis wife had been admitted into the family of the merchant. 

Sir Edgar had died suddenly, and the entailed estates had fallen to hissuccessor the colonel, now Sir Harry; but the bulk of his wealth, being inconvertible property, he had given by will to his other nephew, a youngclergyman, and a son of a younger brother. Mary, as well as her mother, were greatly disappointed, by this deprivation, of what they consideredtheir lawful splendor; but they found great consolation in the new dignityof Lady Egerton, whose greatest wish now was to meet the Moseleys, inorder that she might precede them in or out of some place where suchceremonials are observed. The sound of "Lady Egerton's carriage stops theway, " was delightful, and it never failed to be used on all occasions, although her ladyship was mistress of only a hired vehicle. 

A slight insight into the situation of things amongst them may be found inthe following narrative of their views, as revealed in a discussion whichtook place about a fortnight after the reunion of the family under oneroof. 

Mrs. Jarvis was mistress of a very handsome coach, the gift of her husbandfor her own private use. After having satisfied herself the baronet (adignity he had enjoyed just twenty-four hours) did not possess the abilityto furnish his lady, as she termed her daughter, with such a luxury, shemagnanimously determined to relinquish her own, in support of thenew-found elevation of her daughter. Accordingly, a consultation on thealterations which were necessary took place between the ladies--"The armsmust be altered, of course, " Lady Egerton observed, "and Sir Harry's, withthe bloody hand and six quarterings, put in their place; then theliveries, they must be changed. "

"Oh, mercy! my lady, if the arms are altered, Mr. Jarvis will be sure tonotice it, and he would never forgive me; and perhaps--"

"Perhaps what?" exclaimed the new-made lady, with a disdainful toss of herhead. 

"Why, " replied the mother, warmly, "not give me the hundred pounds hepromised, to have it new-lined and painted. "

"Fiddlesticks with the painting, Mrs, Jarvis, " cried the _lady_ withdignity: "no carriage shall be called mine that does not bear my arms andthe bloody hand. "

"Why, your ladyship is unreasonable, indeed you are, " said Mrs. Jarvis, coaxingly; and then after a moment's thought she continued, "is it thearms or the baronetcy you want, my dear?"

"Oh, I care nothing for the arms, but I am determined, now I am abaronet's lady, Mrs. Jarvis, to have the proper emblem of my rank. "

"Certainly, my lady, that's true dignity: well, then, we will put thebloody hand on your father's arms, and he will never notice it, for henever sees such things. "

The arrangement was happily completed, and for a few days the coach of Mr. Jarvis bore about the titled dame, until one unlucky day the merchant, whostill went on 'change when any great bargain in the stocks was to be made, arrived at his own door suddenly, to procure a calculation he had made onthe leaf of his prayer-book the last Sunday during sermon. This heobtained after some search. In his haste he drove to his broker's in thecarriage of his wife, to save time, it happening to be in waiting at themoment, and the distance not great. Mr. Jarvis forgot to order the man toreturn, and for an hour the vehicle stood in one of the most public placesin the city. The consequence was, that when Mr. Jarvis undertook toexamine into his gains, with the account rendered of the transaction byhis broker, he was astonished to read, "Sir Timothy Jarvis, Bart. , inaccount with John Smith, Dr. " Sir Timothy examined the account in as manydifferent ways as Mr. Benfield had examined the marriage of Denbigh, before he would believe his eyes; and when assured of the fact, heimmediately caught up his hat, and went to find the man who had dared toinsult him, as it were, in defiance of the formality of business. He hadnot proceeded one square in the city before he met a friend, who spoke tohim by the title; an explanation of the mistake followed, and the quasibaronet proceeded to his stables. Here by actual examination he detectedthe fraud. An explanation with his consort followed; and the painter'sbrush soon effaced the emblem of dignity from the panels of the coach. Allthis was easy but with his waggish companions on 'Change and in the city(where, notwithstanding his wife's fashionable propensities, he loved toresort) he was Sir Timothy still. 

Mr. Jarvis, though a man of much modesty, was one of great decision, andhe determined to have the laugh on his side. A newly purchased borough ofhis sent up an address flaming with patriotism, and it was presented byhis own hands. The merchant seldom kneeled to his Creator, but on thisoccasion he humbled himself dutifully before his prince, and left thepresence with a legal right to the appellation which his old companionshad affixed to him sarcastically. 

The rapture of Lady Jarvis may be more easily imagined than faithfullydescribed, the Christian name of her husband alone throwing any alloy intothe enjoyment of her elevation: but by a license of speech she ordered, and addressed in her own practice, the softer and more familiarappellation of Sir Timo. Two servants were discharged the first week, because, unused to titles, they had addressed her as mistress; and herson, the captain, then at a watering-place, was made acquainted by expresswith the joyful intelligence. 

All this time Sir Henry Egerton was but little seen amongst his newrelatives. He had his own engagements and haunts, and spent most of histime at a fashionable gaming house in the West End. As, however, the townwas deserted, Lady Jarvis and her daughters, having condescended to pay around of city visits, to show off her airs and dignity to her old friends, persuaded Sir Timo that the hour for their visit to Bath had arrived, andthey were soon comfortably settled in that city. 

Lady Chatterton and her youngest daughter had arrived at the seat of herson, and John Moseley, as happy as the certainty of love returned and theapprobation of his friends could make him, was in lodgings in the town. Sir Edward notified his son of his approaching visit to Bath, and Johntook proper accommodations for the family, which he occupied for a fewdays by himself as _locum tenens_. 

Lord and Lady Herriefield had departed for the south of France; and Kate, removed from the scenes of her earliest enjoyments and the bosom of herown family, and under the protection of a man she neither loved norrespected, began to feel the insufficiency of a name or of a fortune toconstitute felicity. Lord Herriefield was of a suspicious and harshtemper, the first propensity being greatly increased by his formerassociations, and the latter not being removed by the humility of hiseastern dependants. But the situation of her child gave no uneasiness tothe managing mother, who thought her in the high-road to happiness, andwas gratified at the result of her labors. Once or twice, indeed, herhabits had overcome her caution so much as to endeavor to promote, a dayor two sooner than had been arranged, the wedding of Grace; but herimprudence was checked instantly by the recoiling of Moseley from herinsinuations in disgust; and the absence of the young man for twenty-fourhours gave her timely warning of the danger of such an interference withone of such fastidious feelings. John punished himself as much as thedowager on these occasions; but the smiling face of Grace, with her handfrankly placed in his own at his return, never failed to do away theunpleasant sensations created by her mother's care. 

The Chatterton and Jarvis families met in the rooms, soon after thearrival of the latter, when the lady of the knight, followed by both herdaughters, approached the dowager with a most friendly salute ofrecognition. Lady Chatterton, really forgetful of the persons of her B----acquaintance, and disliking the vulgarity of her air, drew up into anappearance of great dignity, as she hoped the lady was well. Themerchant's wife felt the consciousness of rank too much to be repulsed inthis manner, and believing that the dowager had merely forgotten her face, she added, with a simpering smile, in imitation of what she had seenbetter bred people practise with success--

"Lady Jarvis--my lady--your ladyship don't remember me--Lady Jarvis of theDeanery, B----, Northamptonshire, and my daughters, Lady Egerton and MissJarvis. " Lady Egerton bowed stiffly to the recognising smile the dowagernow condescended to bestow; but Sarah, remembering a certain handsome lordin the family, was more urbane, determining at the moment to make thepromotion of her mother and sister stepping-stones to greater elevationfor herself. 

"I hope my lord is well, " continued the city lady. "I regret that SirTimo, and Sir Harry, and Captain Jarvis, are not here this morning to paytheir respects to your ladyship; but as we shall see naturally a good dealof each other, it must be deferred to a more fitting opportunity. "

"Certainly, madam, " replied the dowager, as, passing her compliments withthose of Grace, she drew back from so open a conversation with creaturesof such doubtful standing in the fashionable world. 

Chapter XXXIII. 

On taking leave of Mrs. Fitzgerald, Emily and her aunt settled a plan ofcorrespondence; the deserted situation of this young woman having createdgreat interest in the breasts of her new friends. General M'Carthy hadreturned to Spain without receding from his original proposal, and hisniece was left to mourn her early departure from one of the most solemnduties of life. 

Mr. Benfield, thwarted in one of his most favorite schemes of happinessfor the residue of his life, obstinately refused to make one of the partyat Bath; and Ives and Clara having returned to Bolton, the remainder ofthe Moseleys arrived at the lodgings of John a very few days after theinterview of the preceding chapter, with hearts ill qualified to enterinto the gaieties of the place, though, in obedience to the wishes of LadyMoseley, to see and to be seen once more on that great theatre offashionable amusement. 

The friends of the family who had known them in times past were numerous, and were glad to renew their acquaintance with those they had alwaysesteemed; so that they found themselves immediately surrounded by a circleof smiling faces and dashing equipages. 

Sir William Harris, the proprietor of the deanery, and a former neighbor, with his showy daughter, were amongst the first to visit them. Sir Williamwas a man of handsome estate and unexceptionable character, but entirelygoverned by the whims and desires of his only child. Caroline Harriswanted neither sense nor beauty, but expecting a fortune, she had placedher views too high. She at first aimed at the peerage; and while she feltherself entitled to suit her taste as well as her ambition, had failed ofher object by ill-concealed efforts to attain it. She had justly acquiredthe reputation of the reverse of a coquette or yet of a prude; still shehad never received an offer, and at the age of twenty-six, had now begunto lower her thoughts to the commonalty. Her fortune would have easilyobtained her husband here, but she was determined to pick amongst thelower supporters of the aristocracy of the nation. With the Moseleys shehad been early acquainted, though some years their senior; a circumstance, however, to which she took care never to allude unnecessarily. 

The meeting between Grace and the Moseleys was tender and sincere. John'scountenance glowed with delight, as he saw his future wife foldedsuccessively in the arms of those he loved, and Grace's tears and blushesadded twofold charms to her native beauty. Jane relaxed from her reserveto receive her future sister, and determined with herself to appear in theworld, in order to show Sir Henry Egerton that she did not feel the blowhe had inflicted as severely as the truth might have proved. 

The Dowager found some little occupation, for a few days, in settling withLady Moseley the preliminaries of the wedding; but the latter had sufferedtoo much through her youngest daughters, to enter into these formalitieswith her ancient spirit. All things were, however, happily settled; andIves making a journey for the express purpose, John and Grace were unitedprivately at the altar of one of the principal churches in Bath. Chatterton had been summoned on the occasion; and the same paper whichannounced the nuptials, contained, amongst the fashionable arrivals, thenames of the Duke of Derwent and his sister, the Marquess of Eltringhamand sisters, amongst whom was to be found Lady Laura Denbigh. LadyChatterton carelessly remarked, in presence of her friends, the husband ofthe latter was summoned to the death-bed of a relative, from whom he hadgreat expectations. Emily's color did certainly change as she listened tothis news, but not allowing her thoughts to dwell on the subject, she wassoon enabled to recall her serenity of appearance. 

But Jane and Emily were delicately placed. The lover of the former, andthe wives of the lovers of both, were in the way of daily, if not hourlyrencounters; and it required all the energies of the young women to appearwith composure before them. The elder was supported by pride, the youngerby principle. The first was restless, haughty, distant, and repulsive. Thelast mild, humble, reserved, but eminently attractive. The one wassuspected by all around her; the other was unnoticed by any, but by hernearest and dearest friends. 

The first rencounter with these dreaded guests occurred at the rooms oneevening, where the elder ladies had insisted on the bride's making herappearance. The Jarvises were there before them, and at their entrancecaught the eyes of the group. Lady Jarvis approached immediately, filledwith exultation--her husband with respect. The latter was received withcordiality--the former politely, but with distance. The young ladies andSir Henry bowed distantly, and the gentleman soon drew off into anotherpart of the room: his absence alone kept Jane from fainting. The handsomefigure of Egerton standing by the side of Mary Jarvis, as her acknowledgedhusband, was near proving too much for her pride, notwithstanding all herefforts; and he looked so like the imaginary being she had set up as theobject of her worship, that her heart was also in danger of rebelling. 

"Positively, Sir Edward and my lady, both Sir Timo and myself, and, Idare say, Sir Harry and Lady Egerton too, are delighted to see youcomfortably at Bath among us. Mrs. Moseley, I wish you much happiness;Lady Chatterton too. I suppose your ladyship recollects me now; I am LadyJarvis. Mr. Moseley, I regret, for your sake, that my son Captain Jarvisis not here; you were so fond of each other, and both so loved your guns. "

"Positively, my Lady Jarvis, " said Moseley, drily, "my feelings on theoccasion are as strong as your own; but I presume the captain is much topgood a shot for me by this time. "

"Why, yes; he improves greatly in most things he undertakes, " rejoined thesmiling dame, "and I hope he will soon learn, like you, to shoot with the_h_arrows of Cupid. I hope the Honorable Mrs. Moseley is well. "

Grace bowed mildly, as she answered to the interrogatory, and smiled atthe thought of Jarvis put in competition with her husband in this speciesof archery, when a voice immediately behind where they sat caught the earsof the whole party; all it said was--

"Harriet, you forgot to show me Marian's letter. "

"Yes, but I will to-morrow, " was the reply. 

It was the tone of Denbigh. Emily almost fell from her seat as it firstreached her, and the eyes of all but herself were immediately turned inquest of the speaker. He had approached within a very few feet of them, supporting a lady on each arm. A second look convinced the Moseleys thatthey were mistaken. It was not Denbigh, but a young man whose figure, face, and air resembled him strongly, and whose voice possessed the samesoft melodious tones which had distinguished that of Denbigh. This partyseated themselves within a very short distance of the Moseleys, and theycontinued their conversation. 

"You heard from the Colonel to-day, too, I believe, " continued thegentleman, turning to the lady who sat next to Emily. 

"Yes, he is a very punctual correspondent; I hear every other day. "

"How is his uncle, Laura?" inquired her female companion. 

"Rather better; but I will thank your grace to find the Marquess and MissHoward. "

"Bring them to us, " rejoined the other. 

"Yes, " said the former lady, with a laugh, "and Eltringham will thank youtoo, I dare say. "

In an instant the duke returned, accompanied by a gentleman of thirty andan elderly lady, who might have been safely taken for fifty withoutoffence to anybody but herself. 

During these speeches their auditors had listened with almost breathlessinterest. Emily had stolen a glance which satisfied her it was not Denbighhimself and it greatly relieved her; but was startled at discovering thatshe was actually seated by the side of his young and lovely wife. When anopportunity offered, she dwelt on the amiable, frank countenance of herrival with melancholy satisfaction: at least, she thought, he may yet behappy, and I hope penitent. 

It was a mixture of love and gratitude which prompted this wish, bothsentiments not easily got rid of when once ingrafted in our betterfeelings. John eyed the strangers with a displeasure for which he couldnot account at once, and saw, in the ancient lady, the bridesmaid LordHenry had so unwillingly admitted to that distinction. 

Lady Jarvis was astounded with her vicinity to so much nobility, and shedrew back to her family to study its movements to advantage; while LadyChatterton sighed heavily, as she contemplated the fine figures of anunmarried Duke and Marquess, and she without a single child to dispose of. The remainder of the party continued to view them with curiosity, andlistened with interest to what they said. 

Two or three young ladies had now joined the strangers, attended by acouple of gentlemen, and the conversation became general. The ladiesdeclined dancing entirely, but appeared willing to throw away an hour incomments on their neighbors. 

"William, " said one of the young ladies, "there is your old messmate, Col. Egerton. "

"Yes, I observe him, " replied her brother, "I see him;" but, smilingsignificantly, he continued, "we are messmates no longer. "

"He is a sad character, " said the Marquess, with a shrug. "William, Iwould advise you to be cautious of his acquaintance. "

"I thank you, " replied Lord William, "but I believe I understand himthoroughly. "

Jane manifested strong emotion during these remarks, while Sir Edward andhis wife averted their faces from a simultaneous feeling of self-reproach. Their eyes met, and mutual concessions were contained in the glance; yettheir feelings were unnoticed by their companions, for over the fulfilmentof her often repeated forewarnings of neglect and duty to our children, Mrs. Wilson had mourned in sincerity, but she had forgotten to triumph. 

"When are we to see Pendennyss?" inquired the Marquess; "I hope he will behere with George--I have a mind to beat up his quarters in Wales thisseason--what say you, Derwent?"

"I intend it, if I can persuade Lady Harriet to quit the gaieties of Bathso soon--what say _you_, sister--will you be in readiness to attend me soearly?"

This question was asked in an arch tone, and drew the eyes of her friendson the person to whom it was addressed. 

"I am ready now, Frederick, if you wish it, " answered the sister hastily, and coloring excessively as she spoke. 

"But where is Chatterton? I thought he was here--he had a sister marriedhere last week, " inquired Lord William Stapleton, addressing no one inparticular. 

A slight movement in their neighbors attracted the attention of the party. 

"What a lovely young woman, " whispered the duke to Lady Laura, "yourneighbor is!"

The lady smiled her assent, and as Emily overheard it, she rose withglowing cheeks, and proposed a walk round the room. 

Chatterton soon after entered. The young peer had acknowledged to Emilythat, deprived of hope as he had been by her firm refusal of his hand, hisefforts had been directed to the suppression of a passion which couldnever be successful; but his esteem, his respect, remained in full force. He did not touch at all on the subject of Denbigh, and she supposed thathe thought his marriage was a step that required justification. 

The Moseleys had commenced their promenade round the room as Chattertoncame in. He paid his compliments to them as soon as he entered, and walkedwith their party. The noble visitors followed their example, and the twoparties met. Chatterton was delighted to see them, the Duke wasparticularly fond of him; and, had one been present of sufficientobservation, the agitation of his sister, the Lady Harriet Denbigh, wouldhave accounted for the doubts of her brother as respects her willingnessto leave Bath. 

A few words of explanation passed; the duke and his friends appeared tourge something on Chatterton, who acted as their ambassador, and theconsequence was, an introduction of the two parties to each other. Thiswas conducted with the ease of the present fashion--it was general, andoccurred, as it were incidentally, in the course of the evening. 

Both Lady Harriet and Lady Laura Denbigh were particularly attentive toEmily. They took their seats by her, and manifested a preference for herconversation that struck Mrs. Wilson as remarkable. Could it be that thereally attractive manners and beauty of her niece had caught the fancy ofthese ladies, or was there a deeper seated cause for the desire to drawEmily out, that both of them evinced? Mrs. Wilson had heard a rumor thatChatterton was thought attentive to Lady Harriet, and the other was thewife of Denbigh; was it possible the quondam suitors of her niece hadrelated to their present favorites the situation they had stood in asregarded Emily? It was odd, to say no more; and the widow dwelt on theinnocent countenance of the bride with pity and admiration. Emily herselfwas not a little abashed at the notice of her new acquaintances, especially Lady Laura's; but as their admiration appeared sincere, as wellas their desire to be on terms of intimacy with the Moseleys, they parted, on the whole, mutually pleased. 

The conversation several times was embarrassing to the baronet's family, and at moments distressingly so to their daughters. 

At the close of the evening they all formed one group at a little distancefrom the rest of the company, and in a situation to command a view of it. 

"Who is that vulgar-looking woman, " said Lady Sarah Stapleton, "seatednext to Sir Henry Egerton, brother?"

"No less a personage than my Lady Jarvis, " replied the marquess, gravely, "and the mother-in-law of Sir Harry, and the wife to Sir Timo--;" this wassaid, with a look of drollery that showed the marquess was a bit of aquiz. 

"Married!" cried Lord William, "mercy on the woman who is Egerton's wife. He is the greatest latitudinarian amongst the ladies, of any man inEngland--nothing--no, nothing would tempt me to let such a man marry asister of mine!"

Ah, thought Mrs. Wilson, how we may be deceived in character, with thebest intentions, after all! In what are the open vices of Egerton worsethan the more hidden ones of Denbigh?

These freely expressed opinions on the character of Sir Henry wereexcessively awkward to some of the listeners, to whom they were connectedwith unpleasant recollections of duties neglected, and affections thrownaway. 

Sir Edward Moseley was not disposed to judge his fellow-creatures harshly;and it was as much owing to his philanthropy as to his indolence, that hehad been so remiss in his attention to the associates of his daughters. But the veil once removed, and the consequences brought home to himthrough his child, no man was more alive to the necessity of caution onthis important particular; and Sir Edward formed many salutary resolutionsfor the government of his future conduct in relation to those whom anexperience nearly fatal in its results had now greatly qualified to takecare of themselves But to resume our narrative--Lady Laura had maintainedwith Emily a conversation, which was enlivened by occasional remarks fromthe rest of the party, in the course of which the nerves as well as theprinciples of Emily were put to a severe trial. 

"My brother Henry, " said Lady Laura, "who is a captain in the navy, oncehad the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Moseley, and in some measure made meacquainted with you before we met. "

"I dined with Lord Henry at L----, and was much indebted to his politeattentions in an excursion on the water, " replied Emily, simply. 

"Oh, I am sure his attentions were exclusive, " cried the sister; "indeed, he told us that nothing but want of time prevented his being deeply inlove--he had even the audacity to tell Denbigh it was fortunate for me hehad never seen you, or I should have been left to lead apes. "

"And I suppose you believe him now, " cried Lord William, laughing, as hebowed to Emily. 

His sister laughed in her turn, but shook her head, in the confidence ofconjugal affection. 

"It is all conjecture, for the Colonel said he had never enjoyed thepleasure of meeting Miss Moseley, so I will not boast of what my powersmight have done; Miss Moseley, " continued Lady Laura, blushing slightly ather inclination to talk of an absent husband, so lately her lover, "I hopeto have the pleasure of presenting Colonel Denbigh to you soon. "

"I think, " said Emily, with a strong horror of deception, and a mightystruggle to suppress her feelings, "Colonel Denbigh was mistaken in sayingthat we had never met; he was of material service to me once, and I owehim a debt of gratitude that I only wish I could properly repay. "

Lady Laura listened in surprise; but as Emily paused, she could notdelicately, as his wife, remind her further of the obligation, by askingwhat the service was, and hesitating a moment, continued--

"Henry quite made you the subject of conversation amongst us; LordChatterton too, who visited us for a day, was equally warm in hiseulogiums. I really thought they created a curiosity in the Duke andPendennyss to behold their idol. "

"A curiosity that would be ill rewarded in its indulgence, " said Emily, abashed by the personality of the discourse. 

"So says the modesty of Miss Moseley, " said the Duke of Derwent, in thepeculiar tone which distinguished the softer keys of Denbigh's voice. Emily's heart beat quick as she heard them, and she was afterwards vexedto remember with how much pleasure she had listened to this opinion of theduke. Was it the sentiment, or was it the voice? She, however, gatheredstrength to answer, with a dignity that repressed further praises:--

"Your grace is willing to divest me of what little I possess. "

"Pendennyss is a man of a thousand, " continued Lady Laura, with theprivilege of a married woman. "I do wish he would join us at Bath--isthere no hope, duke?"

"I am afraid not, " replied his grace: "he keeps himself immured in Waleswith his sister, who is as much of a hermit as he is himself. "

"There was a story of an inamorata in private somewhere, " cried themarquess; "why at one time it was even said he was privately married toher. "

"Scandal, my lord, " said the duke, gravely: "Pendennyss is ofunexceptionable morals, and the lady you mean is the widow of MajorFitzgerald, whom you knew. Pendennyss never sees her, though by accidenthe was once of very great service to her. "

Mrs. Wilson breathed freely again, as she heard this explanation, andthought if the Marquess knew all, how differently would he judgePendennyss, as well as others. 

"Oh! I have the highest opinion of Lord Pendennyss, " cried the Marquess. 

The Moseleys were not sorry that the usual hour of retiring put an end tothe conversation and their embarrassment. 

Chapter XXXIV. 

During the succeeding fortnight, the intercourse between the Moseleys andtheir new acquaintances increased daily. It was rather awkward at first onthe part of Emily; and her beating pulse and changing color too oftenshowed the alarm of feelings not yet overcome, when any allusions weremade to the absent husband of one of the ladies. Still, as her parentsencouraged the acquaintance, and her aunt thought the best way to get ridof the remaining weakness with respect to Denbigh was not to shrink fromeven an interview with the gentleman himself, Emily succeeded inconquering her reluctance; and as the high opinion entertained by LadyLaura of her husband was expressed in a thousand artless ways, an interestwas created in her that promised in time to weaken if not destroy theimpression that had been made by Denbigh himself. 

On the other hand, Egerton carefully avoided all collision with theMoseleys. Once, indeed, he endeavored to renew his acquaintance with John, but a haughty repulse almost produced a quarrel. 

What representations Egerton had thought proper to make to his wife, weare unable to say; but she appeared to resent something, as she neverapproached the dwelling or persons of her quondam associates, although inher heart she was dying to be on terms of intimacy with their titledfriends. Her incorrigible mother was restrained by no such or any otherconsideration, and contrived to fasten on the Dowager and Lady Harriet akind of bowing acquaintance, which she made great use of at the rooms. 

The Duke sought out the society of Emily wherever he could obtain it; andMrs. Wilson thought her niece admitted his approaches with less reluctancethan that of any other of the gentlemen around her. At first she wassurprised, but a closer observation betrayed to her the latent cause. 

Derwent resembled Denbigh greatly in person and voice, although there weredistinctions easily to be made on an acquaintance. The Duke had an air ofcommand and hauteur that was never to be seen in his cousin. But hisadmiration of Emily he did not attempt to conceal; and, as he everaddressed her in the respectful language and identical voice of Denbigh, the observant widow easily perceived, that it was the remains of herattachment to the one that induced her niece to listen, with such evidentpleasure, to the conversation of the other. 

The Duke of Derwent wanted many of the indispensable requisites of ahusband, in the eyes of Mrs. Wilson; yet, as she thought Emily out of alldanger at the present of any new attachment, she admitted the association, under no other restraint than the uniform propriety of all that Emily saidor did. 

"Your niece will one day be a Duchess, Mrs. Wilson, " whispered Lady Laura, as Derwent and Emily were running over a new poem one morning, in thelodgings of Sir Edward; the former reading a fine extract aloud sostrikingly in the air and voice of Denbigh, as to call all the animationof the unconscious Emily into her expressive face. 

Mrs. Wilson sighed, as she reflected on the strength of those feelingswhich even principles and testimony had not been able wholly to subdue, asshe answered--

"Not of Derwent, I believe. But how wonderfully the Duke resembles yourhusband at times, " she added, entirely thrown off her guard. 

Lady Laura was evidently surprised. 

"Yes, at times he does; they are brothers' children, you know: the voicein all that connexion is remarkable. Pendennyss, though a degree furtheroff in blood, possesses it; and Lady Harriet, you perceive, has the samecharacteristic; there has been some syren in the family, in days past. "

Sir Edward and Lady Moseley saw the attention of the Duke with thegreatest pleasure. Though not slaves to the ambition of wealth and rank, they were certainly no objections in their eyes; and a proper suitor LadyMoseley thought the most probable means of driving the recollection ofDenbigh from the mind of her daughter. The latter consideration had greatweight in inducing her to cultivate an acquaintance so embarrassing onmany accounts. 

The Colonel, however, wrote to his wife the impossibility of his quittinghis uncle while he continued so unwell, and it was settled that the brideshould join him, under the escort of Lord William. 

The same tenderness distinguished Denbigh on this occasion that hadappeared so lovely when exercised to his dying father. Yet, thought Mrs. Wilson, how insufficient are good feelings to effect what can only be theresult of good principles. 

Caroline Harris was frequently of the parties of pleasure, walks, rides, and dinners, which the Moseleys were compelled to join in; and as theMarquess of Eltringham had given her one day some little encouragement, she determined to make an expiring effort at the peerage, before shecondescended to enter into an examination of the qualities of Capt. Jarvis, who, his mother had persuaded her, was an Apollo, that had greathopes of being one day a Lord, as both the Captain and herself hadcommenced laying up a certain sum quarterly for the purpose of buying atitle hereafter--an ingenious expedient of Jarvis's to get into his handsa portion of the allowance of his mother. 

Eltringham was strongly addicted to the ridiculous; and without committinghimself in the least, drew the lady out on divers occasions, for theamusement of himself and the Duke--who enjoyed, without practising, thatspecies of joke. 

The collisions between ill-concealed art and as ill-concealed irony hadbeen practised with impunity by the Marquess for a fortnight, and thelady's imagination began to revel in the delights of a triumph, when areally respectable offer was made to Miss Harris by a neighbor of herfather's in the country--one she would rejoice to have received a few daysbefore, but which, in consequence of hopes created by the followingoccurrence, she haughtily rejected. 

It was at the lodgings of the Baronet that Lady Laura exclaimed one day, --

"Marriage is a lottery, certainly, and neither Sir Henry nor Lady Egertonappears to have drawn a prize. "

Here Jane stole from the room. 

"Never, sister, " cried the Marquess. "I will deny that. Any man can selecta prize from your sex, if he only knows his own taste. "

"Taste is a poor criterion, I am afraid, " said Mrs. Wilson, gravely, "onwhich to found matrimonial felicity. "

"To what would you refer the decision, my dear madam?" inquired the LadyLaura. 

"Judgment. "

Lady Laura shook her hear doubtingly. 

"You remind me so much of Lord Pendennyss! Everything he wishes to bringunder the subjection of judgment and principles. "

"And is he wrong, Lady Laura?" asked Mrs. Wilson, pleased to find suchcorrect views existed in one of whom she thought so highly. 

"Not wrong, my dear madam, only impracticable. What do you think, Marquess, of choosing a wife in conformity to your principles, and withoutconsulting your tastes?"

Mrs. Wilson shook her head with a laugh, and disclaimed any such statementof the case; but the Marquess, who disliked one of John's didacticconversations very much, gaily interrupted her by saying--

"Oh! taste is everything with me. The woman of my heart against the world, if she suits my fancy, and satisfies my judgment. "

"And what may this fancy of your Lordship be?" said Mrs. Wilson, willingto gratify the trifling. "What kind of a woman do you mean to choose? Howtall for instance?"

"Why, madam, " cried the Marquess, rather unprepared for such a catechism, and looking around him until the outstretched neck and the eager attentionof Caroline Harris caught his eye, when he added with an air of greatsimplicity--"about the height of Miss Harris. "

"How old?" asked Mrs. Wilson with a smile. 

"Not too young, ma'am, certainly. I am thirty-two--my wife must be five orsix and twenty. Am I old enough, do you think, Derwent?" he added in awhisper to the Duke. 

"Within ten years, " was the reply. 

Mrs. Wilson continued--

"She must read and write, I suppose?"

"Why, faith, " said the Marquess, "I am not fond of a bookish sort of awoman, and least of all a scholar. "

"You had better take Miss Howard, " whispered his brother. "She is oldenough--never reads--and is just the height. "

"No, no, Will, " rejoined the brother. "Rather too old that. Now, I admirea woman who has confidence in herself. One that understands theproprieties of life, and has, if possible, been at the head of anestablishment before she is to take charge of mine. "

The delighted Caroline wriggled about in her chair, and, unable to containherself longer, inquired:--

"Noble blood of course, you would require, my Lord?"

"Why no! I rather think the best wives are to be found in a medium. Iwould wish to elevate my wife myself. A Baronet's daughter for instance. "

Here Lady Jarvis, who had entered during the dialogue, and caught a clueto the topic they were engaged in, drew near, and ventured to ask if hethought a simple knight too low. The Marquess, who did not expect such anattack, was a little at a loss for an answer; but recovering himselfanswered gravely, under the apprehension of another design on his person, that "he did think that would be forgetting his duty to his descendants. "

Lady Jarvis sighed, and fell back in disappointment; while Miss Harris, turning to the nobleman, in a soft voice, desired him to ring for hercarriage. As he handed her down, she ventured to inquire if his lordshiphad ever met with such a woman as he described. 

"Oh, Miss Harris, " he whispered, as he handed her into the coach, "how canyou ask me such a question? You are very cruel. Drive on, coachman. "

"How, cruel, my Lord?" said Miss Harris eagerly. "Stop, John. How, cruel, my Lord?" and she stretched her neck out of the window as the Marquess, kissing his hand to her, ordered the man to proceed. 

"Don't you hear your lady, sir?"

Lady Jarvis had followed them down, also with a view to catch anythingwhich might be said, having apologized for her hasty visit; and as theMarquess handed her politely into her carriage, she also begged "he wouldfavor Sir Timo and Sir Henry with a call;" which being promised, Eltringham returned to the room. 

"When am I to salute a Marchioness of Eltringham?" cried Lady Laura to herbrother, "one on the new standard set up by your Lordship. "

"Whenever Miss Harris can make up her mind to the sacrifice, " replied thebrother very gravely. "Ah me! how very considerate some of your sex are, for the modesty of ours. "

"I wish you joy with all my heart, my Lord Marquess, " exclaimed JohnMoseley. "I was once favored with the notice of that same lady for a weekor two, but a viscount saved me from capture. "

"I really think, Moseley, " said the Duke innocently, but speaking withanimation, "an intriguing daughter worse than a managing mother. "

John's gravity for a moment vanished, as he replied in a lowered key, "Oh, much worse. "

Grace's heart was in her throat, until, by stealing a glance at herhusband, she saw the cloud passing over his fine brow; and happening tocatch her affectionate smile; his face was at once lighted into a look ofpleasantry. 

"I would advise caution, my Lord. Caroline Harris has the advantage ofexperience in her trade, and was expert from the first. "

"John--John, " said Sir Edward with warmth, "Sir William is my friend, andhis daughter must be respected. "

"Then, baronet, " cried the Marquess, "she has one recommendation I wasignorant of, and as such I am silent: but ought not Sir William to teachhis daughter to respect herself? I view these husband-hunting ladies aspirates on the ocean of love, and lawful objects for any roving cruiserlike myself to fire at. At one time I was simple enough to retire as theyadvanced, but you know, madam, " turning to Mrs. Wilson with a droll look, "flight only encourages pursuit, so I now give battle in self-defence. "

"And I hope successfully, my Lord, " observed the Lady. "Miss Harris, brother, does appear to have grown desperate in her attacks, which wereformerly much more masked than at present. I believe it is generally thecase, when a young worman throws aside the delicacy and feelings whichought to be the characteristics of her sex, and which teach her studiouslyto conceal her admiration, that she either becomes in time cynical anddisagreeable to all around her from disappointment, or persevering in herefforts, as it were, runs a muck for a husband. Now in justice to thegentlemen, I must say, baronet, there are strong symptoms of the Malayabout Caroline Harris. "

"A muck, a muck, " cried the marquess, as, in obedience to the signal ofhis sister, he rose to withdraw. 

Jane had retired to her own room in a mortification of spirit she couldill conceal during this conversation, and she felt a degree of humiliationwhich almost drove her to the desperate resolution of hiding herself forever from the world. The man she had so fondly enshrined in her heartproving to be so notoriously unworthy as to be the subject of unreservedcensure in general company, was a reproach to her delicacy, herobservation, her judgment, that was the more severe, from being true; andshe wept in bitterness over her fallen happiness. 

Emily had noticed the movement of Jane, and waited anxiously for thedeparture of the visitors to hasten to her room. She knocked two or threetimes before her sister replied to her request for admittance. 

"Jane, my dear Jane, " said Emily, soothingly, "will you not admit me?"

Jane could not resist any longer the affection of her sister, and the doorwas opened; but as Emily endeavored to take her hand, she drew backcoldly, and cried--

"I wonder you, who are so happy, will leave the gay scene below for thesociety of an humbled wretch like me;" and overcome with the violence ofher emotion, she burst into tears. 

"Happy!" repeated Emily, in a tone of anguish, "happy, did you say, Jane?Oh, little do you know my sufferings, or you would never speak socruelly!"

Jane, in her turn, surprised at the strength of Emily's language, considered her weeping sister with commiseration; and then her thoughtsrecurring to her own case, she continued with energy--

"Yes, Emily, happy; for whatever may have been the reason of Denbigh'sconduct, he is respected; and if you do or did love him, he was worthy ofit. But I, " said Jane, wildly, "threw away my affections on a wretch--_amere impostor_--and I am miserable for ever. "

"No, dear Jane, " rejoined Emily, having recovered her self-possession, "not miserable--nor for ever. You have many, very many sources ofhappiness yet within your reach, even in this world. I--I do think, evenour strongest attachments may be overcome by energy and a sense of duty. And oh! how I wish I could see you make the effort. "

For a moment the voice of the youthful moralist had failed her; butanxiety in behalf of her sister overcame her feelings, and she ended thesentence with earnestness. 

"Emily, " said Jane, with obstinacy, and yet in tears, "you don't knowwhat blighted affections are. To endure the scorn of the world, and seethe man you once thought near being your husband married to another, whois showing herself in triumph before you, wherever you go!"

"Hear me, Jane, before you reproach me further, and then judge betweenus. " Emily paused a moment to acquire nerve to proceed, and then relatedto her astonished sister the little history of her own disappointments. She did not affect to conceal her attachment for Denbigh. With glowingcheeks she acknowledged, that she found a necessity for all her efforts tokeep her rebellious feelings yet in subjection; and as she recountedgenerally his conduct to Mrs. Fitzgerald, she concluded by saying, "But, Jane, I can see enough to call forth my gratitude; and although, withyourself, I feel at this moment as if my affections were sealed for ever, I wish to make no hasty resolutions, nor act in any manner as if I wereunworthy of the lot Providence has assigned me. "

"Unworthy? no!--you have no reasons for self-reproach. If Mr. Denbigh hashad the art to conceal his crimes from you, he did it to the rest of theworld also, and has married a woman of rank and character. But howdifferently are we situated! Emily--I--I have no such consolation. "

"You have the consolation, my sister, of knowing there is an interest madefor you where we all require it most, and it is there I endeavor to seekmy support, " said Emily, in a low and humble tone. "A review of our ownerrors takes away the keenness of our perception of the wrongs done us, and by placing us in charity with the rest of the world, disposes us toenjoy calmly the blessings within our reach. Besides, Jane, we haveparents whose happiness is locked up in that of their children, and weshould--we must overcome the feelings which disqualify us for our commonduties, on their account. "

"Ah!" cried Jane, "how can I move about in the world, while I know theeyes of all are on me, in curiosity to discover how I bear mydisappointments. But you, Emily, are unsuspected. It is easy for you toaffect a gaiety you do not feel. "

"I neither affect nor feel any gaiety, " said her sister, mildly. "But arethere not the eyes of One on us, of infinitely more power to punish orreward than what may be found in the opinions of the world? Have we noduties? For what is our wealth, our knowledge, our time given us, but toimprove for our own and for the eternal welfare of those around us? Comethen, my sister, we have both been deceived--let us endeavor not to beculpable. "

"I wish, from my soul, we could leave Bath, " cried Jane. "The place, thepeople are hateful to me!"

"Jane, " said Emily, "rather say you hate their vices, and wish for theiramendment: but do not indiscriminately condemn a whole community for thewrongs you have sustained from one of its members. "

Jane allowed herself to be consoled, though by no means convinced, by thiseffort of her sister; and they both found a relief by thus unburdeningtheir hearts to each other, that in future brought them more nearlytogether, and was of mutual assistance in supporting them in thepromiscuous circles in which they were obliged to mix. 

With all her fortitude and principle, one of the last things Emily wouldhave desired was an interview with Denbigh, and she was happily relievedfrom the present danger of it by the departure of Lady Laura and herbrother, to go to the residence of the Colonel's sick uncle. 

Both Mrs. Wilson and Emily suspected that a dread of meeting them haddetained him from his intended journey to Bath; and neither was sorry toperceive, what they considered as latent signs of grace--a grace of whichEgerton appeared entirely to be without. 

"He may yet see his errors, and make a kind and affectionate husband, "thought Emily; and then, as the image of Denbigh rose in her imagination, surrounded with the domestic virtues, she roused herself from thedangerous reflection to the exercise of the duties in which she found arefuge from unpardonable wishes. 

Chapter XXXV. 

Nothing material occurred for a fortnight after the departure of LadyLaura, the Moseleys entering soberly into the amusements of the place, andDerwent and Chatterton becoming more pointed every day in theirattentions--the one to Emily, and the other to Lady Harriet; when thedowager received a pressing entreaty from Catherine to hasten to her atLisbon, where her husband had taken up his abode for a time, after muchdoubt and indecision as to his place of residence. Lady Herriefield statedgenerally in her letter, that she was miserable, and that without thesupport of her mother she could not exist under the present grievances;but what was the cause of those grievances, or what grounds she had forher misery, she left unexplained. 

Lady Chatterton was not wanting in maternal regard, and she promptlydetermined to proceed to Portugal in the next packet. John felt inclinedfor a little excursion with his bride; and out of compassion to the baron, who was in a dilemma between his duty and his love (for Lady Harriet aboutthat time was particularly attractive), he offered his services. 

Chatterton allowed himself to be persuaded by the good-natured John, thathis mother could safely cross the ocean under the protection of thelatter. Accordingly, at the end of the before mentioned fortnight, thedowager, John, Grace, and Jane, commenced their journey to Falmouth. 

Jane had offered to accompany Grace, as a companion in her return (itbeing expected Lady Chatterton would remain in the country with herdaughter); and her parents appreciating her motives, permitted theexcursion, with a hope it would draw her thoughts from past events. 

Although Grace shed a few tears at parting with Emily and her friends, itwas impossible for Mrs. Moseley to be long unhappy, with the face of Johnsmiling by her side; and they pursued their route uninterruptedly. In dueseason they reached the port of embarkation. 

The following morning the packet got under weigh, and a favorable breezesoon wafted them out of sight of their native shores. The ladies were toomuch indisposed the first day to appear on the deck; but the weatherbecoming calm and the sea smooth, Grace and Jane ventured out of theconfinement of their state-rooms, to respire the fresh air above. 

There were but few passengers, and those chiefly ladies--the wives ofofficers on foreign stations, on their way to join their husbands. Asthese had been accustomed to moving in the world, their disposition toaccommodate soon removed the awkwardness of a first meeting, and ourtravellers began to be at home in their novel situation. 

While Grace stood leaning on the arm of her husband, and clinging to hissupport, both from affection and a dread of the motion of the vessel, Janeventured with one of the ladies to attempt a walk round the deck of theship. Unaccustomed to such an uncertain foothold, the walkers wereprevented falling by the kind interposition of a gentleman, who for thefirst time had shown himself among them at that moment. The accident, andtheir situation, led to a conversation which was renewed at differenttimes during their passage, and in some measure created an intimacybetween our party and the stranger. He was addressed by the commander ofthe vessel as Mr. Harland; and Lady Chatterton exercised her ingenuity inthe investigation of his history, by which she made the followingdiscovery:

The Rev. And Hon. Mr. Harland was the younger son of an Irish earl, whohad early embraced his sacred profession in that church, in which he helda valuable living in the gift of his father's family. His father was yetalive, and then at Lisbon with his mother and sister, in attendance on hiselder brother, who had been sent there in a deep decline a couple ofmonths before. It had been the wish of his parents to have taken all theirchildren with them; but a sense of duty had kept the young clergyman inthe exercise of his holy office, until a request of his dying brother, andthe directions of his father, caused him to hasten abroad to witness thedecease of the one, and to afford all the solace within his power to theothers. 

It may be easily imagined that the discovery of the rank of theiraccidental acquaintance, with the almost certainty that existed of hisbeing the heir of his father's honors, in no degree impaired hisconsequence in the eyes of the dowager; and it is certain, his visibleanxiety and depressed spirits, his unaffected piety, and disinterestedhopes for his brother's recovery, no less elevated him in the opinions ofher companions. 

There was, at the moment, a kind of sympathy between Harland and Jane, notwithstanding the melancholy which gave rise to it proceeding from suchvery different causes and as the lady, although with diminished bloom, retained all her personal charms, rather heightened than otherwise by thesoftness of low spirits, the young clergyman sometimes relieved hisapprehensions of his brother's death by admitting the image of Jane amonghis more melancholy reflections. 

The voyage was tedious, and some time before it was ended the dowager hadgiven Grace an intimation of the probability there was of Jane'sbecoming, at some future day, a countess. Grace sincerely hoped thatwhatever she became she would be as happy as she thought all allied toJohn deserved to be. 

They entered the bay of Lisbon early in the morning; and as the ship hadbeen expected for some days, a boat came alongside with a note for Mr. Harland, before they had anchored. It apprised him of the death of hisbrother. The young man threw himself precipitately into it, and was soonemployed in one of the loveliest offices of his vocation, that of healingthe wounds of the afflicted. 

Lady Herriefield received her mother in a sort of sullen satisfaction, andher companions with an awkwardness she could ill conceal. It required nogreat observation in the travellers to discover, that their arrival wasentirely unexpected by the viscount, if it were not equally disagreeable;indeed, one day's residence under his roof assured them all that no greatdegree of domestic felicity was an inmate of the dwelling. 

From the moment Lord Herriefield became suspicious that he had been thedupe of the management of Kate and her mother, he viewed every act of hiswife with a prejudiced eye. It was easy, with his knowledge of humannature, to detect her selfishness and worldly-mindedness; for as thesewere faults she was unconscious of possessing, so she was unguarded in herexposure of them. But her designs, in a matrimonial point of view, havingended with her marriage, had the viscount treated her with any of thecourtesies due her sex and station, she might, with her disposition, havebeen contented in the enjoyment of rank and in the possession of wealth;but their more private hours were invariably rendered unpleasant, by theoverflowings of her husband's resentment at having been deceived in hisjudgment of the female sex. 

There is no point upon which men are more tender than their privilege ofsuiting themselves in a partner for life, although many of both sexes areinfluenced in this important selection more by the wishes and whims ofothers than is usually suspected; yet, as all imagine what is the resultof contrivance and management is the election of free will and taste, solong as they are ignorant, they are contented. Lord Herriefield wantedthis bliss of ignorance; and, with contempt for his wife, was mingledanger at his own want of foresight. 

Very few people can tamely submit to self-reproach; and as the cause ofthis irritated state of mind was both not only constantly present, butcompletely within his power, the viscount seemed determined to give her aslittle reason to exult in the success of her plans as possible. Jealous hewas, from temperament, from bad associations, and a want of confidence inthe principles of his wife, the freedom of foreign manners having anadditional tendency to excite this baneful passion to an unusual degree. Abridged in her pleasures, reproached with motives she was incapable ofharboring, and disappointed in all those enjoyments her mother had everled her to believe the invariable accompaniments of married life, whereproper attention had been paid to the necessary qualifications of richesand rank, Kate had written to the dowager with the hope her presence mightrestrain, or her advice teach her, successfully to oppose the unfeelingconduct of the viscount. 

Lady Chatterton never having implanted any of her favorite systems in herdaughter, so much by precept as by the force of example in her own person, as well as by indirect eulogiums on certain people who were endowed withthose qualities and blessings she most admired, on the present occasionCatherine did not unburden herself in terms to her mother; but by aregular gradation of complaints, aimed more at the world than at herhusband, she soon let the knowing dowager see their application, and inthe end completely removed the veil from her domestic grievances. 

The example of John and Grace for a short time awed the peer intodissembling his disgust for his spouse; but the ice once broken, theirpresence soon ceased to affect either the frequency or the severity of hisremarks, when under its influence. 

From such exhibitions of matrimonial discord, Grace shrank timidly intothe retirement of her room, and Jane, with dignity, would follow herexample; while John at times became a listener, with a spirit barelycurbed within the bounds of prudence, and at others, he sought in thecompany of his wife and sister, relief from the violence of his feelings. 

John never admired nor respected Catherine, for she wanted those veryqualities he chiefly loved in her sister; yet, as she was a woman, and onenearly connected with him, he found it impossible to remain a quietspectator of the unmanly treatment she often received from her husband; hetherefore made preparations for his return to England by the first packet, abridging his intended residence in Lisbon more than a month. 

Lady Chatterton endeavored all within her power to heal the breach betweenKate and her husband, but it greatly exceeded her abilities. It was toolate to implant such principles in her daughter, as by a long course ofself-denial and submission might have won the love of the viscount, hadthe mother been acquainted with them herself; so that having induced herchild to marry with a view to obtaining precedence and a jointure, sheonce more set to work to undo part of her former labors, by bringing abouta decent separation between the husband and wife, in such a manner as tosecure to her child the possession of her wealth, and the esteem of theworld. The latter, though certainly a somewhat difficult undertaking, wasgreatly lessened by the assistance of the former. 

John and his wife determined to seize the opportunity to examine theenvirons of the city. In one of these daily rides, they met their fellowtraveller, Mr. Now Lord Harland. He was rejoiced to see them again, andhearing of their intended departure, informed them of his being about toreturn to England in the same vessel--his parents and sister contemplatingending the winter in Portugal. 

The intercourse between the two families was kept up with a show ofcivilities between the noblemen, and much real good-will on the part ofthe juniors of the circle, until the day arrived for the sailing of thepacket. 

Lady Chatterton was left behind with Catherine, as yet unable tocircumvent her schemes with prudence; it being deemed by the world a worseoffence to separate, than to join together one's children in the bands ofwedlock. 

The confinement of a vessel is very propitious to those intimacies whichlead to attachments. The necessity of being agreeable is a check upon thecaptious, and the desire to lessen the dulness of the scene a stimulus tothe lively; and though the noble divine and Jane could not possibly beranked in either class, the effect was the same. The noble man was muchenamored, and Jane unconsciously gratified. It is true, love had neverentered her thoughts in its direct and unequivocal form; but admiration isso consoling to those laboring under self-condemnation, and flattery of acertain kind so very soothing to all, it is not to be wondered that shelistened with increasing pleasure to the interesting conversation ofHarland on all occasions, and more particularly, as often happened, whenexclusively addressed to herself. 

Grace had of late reflected more seriously on the subject of her eternalwelfare than she had been accustomed to do in the house of her mother; andthe example of Emily, with the precepts of Mrs. Wilson, had not beenthrown away upon her. It is a singular fact, that more women feel adisposition to religion soon after marriage than at any other period oflife; and whether it is, that having attained the most important stationthis life affords the sex, they are more willing to turn their thoughts toa provision for the next, or whether it be owing to any other cause, Mrs. Moseley was included in the number. She became sensibly touched with hersituation, and as Harland was both devout and able as well as anxious toinstruct, one of the party, at least, had cause to rejoice in the journeyfor the remainder of her days. But precisely as Grace increased in her ownfaith, so did her anxiety after the welfare of her husband receive newexcitement; and John, for the first time, became the cause of sorrow tohis affectionate companion. 

The deep interest Harland took in the opening conviction of Mrs. Moseley, did not so entirely engross his thoughts as to prevent the too frequentcontemplation of the charms of her friend for his own peace of mind; andby the time the vessel reached Falmouth, he had determined to make atender of his hand and title to the acceptance of Miss Moseley. Jane didnot love Egerton; on the contrary, she despised him; but the time hadbeen, when all her romantic feelings, every thought of her brilliantimagination, had been filled with his image, and Jane felt it a species ofindelicacy to admit the impression of another so soon, or even at all. These objections would, in time, have been overcome, as her affectionsbecame more and more enlisted on behalf of Harland, had she admitted hisaddresses; but there was an impediment that Jane considered insurmountableto a union with any man. 

She had once communicated her passion to its object. There had been theconfidence of approved love; and she had now no heart for Harland, but onethat had avowedly been a slave to another. To conceal this from him wouldbe unjust, and not reconcilable to good faith; to confess it, humiliating, and without the pale of probability. It was the misfortune of Jane to keepthe world too constantly before her, and to lose sight too much of herreally depraved nature, to relish the idea of humbling herself so low inthe opinion of a fellow-creature. The refusal of Harland's offer was theconsequence, although she had begun to feel an esteem for him, that wouldno doubt have given rise to an attachment in time, far stronger and moredeeply seated than her passing fancy for Colonel Egerton had been. 

If the horror of imposing on the credulity of Harland a wounded heart, wascreditable to Jane, and showed an elevation of character that under properguidance would have placed her in the first ranks of her sex; the pridewhich condemned her to a station nature did not design her for wasirreconcilable with the humility a just view of her condition could notfail to produce; and the second sad consequence of the indulgent weaknessof her parents, was confirming their child in passions directly atvariance with the first duties of a Christian. 

We have so little right to value ourselves on anything that pride is asentiment of very doubtful service, and one certainly, that is unable toeffect any useful results which will not equally flow from goodprinciples. 

Harland was disappointed and grieved, but prudently judging thatoccupation and absence would remove recollections which could not be verydeep, they parted at Falmouth, and our travellers proceeded on theirjourney for B----, whither, during their absence, Sir Edward's family hadreturned to spend a month, before they removed to town for the residue ofthe winter. 

The meeting of the two parties was warm and tender, and as Jane had manythings to recount, and John as many to laugh at, their arrival threw agaiety around Moseley Hall to which it had for months been a stranger. 

One of the first acts of Grace, after her return, was to enter strictlyinto the exercise of all those duties and ordinances required by herchurch, and the present state of her mind, and from the hands of Dr. Ivesshe received her first communion at the altar. 

As the season had now become far advanced, and the fashionable world hadbeen some time assembled in the metropolis, the Baronet commenced hisarrangements to take possession of his town-house, after an interval ofnineteen years. John proceeded to the capital first; and the necessarydomestics procured, furniture supplied, and other arrangements usual tothe appearance of a wealthy family in the world having been completed, hereturned with the information that all was ready for their triumphalentrance. 

Sir Edward, feeling that a separation for so long a time, and at such anunusual distance, in the very advanced age of Mr. Benfield, would beimproper, paid him a visit, with the intention of persuading him to makeone of his family for the next four months. Emily was his companion, andtheir solicitations were happily crowned with a success they had notanticipated. Averse to be deprived of Peter's society, the honest stewardwas included in the party. 

"Nephew, " said Mr. Benfield, beginning to waver in his objections to theundertaking, as the arguments pro and con were produced, "there areinstances of gentlemen, not in parliament, going to town in the winter, Iknow. You are one yourself; and old Sir John Cowel, who never could getin, although he ran for every city in the kingdom, never missed his winterin Soho. Yes, yes--the thing is admissible--but had I known your wishesbefore, I would certainly have kept my borough if it were only for theappearance of the thing--besides, " continued the old man, shaking hishead, "his majesty's ministers require the aid of some more experiencedmembers in these critical times; for what should an old man like me do inWestminster, unless it were to aid his country with his advice?"

"Make his friends happy with his company, dear uncle, " said Emily, takinghis hand between both her own, and smiling affectionately on the oldgentleman as she spoke. 

"Ah! Emmy dear!" cried Mr. Benfield, looking on her with melancholypleasure, "you are not to be resisted--just such another as the sister ofmy old friend Lord Gosford; she could always coax me out of anything. Iremember now, I heard the earl tell her once he could not afford to buy apair of diamond ear-rings; and she looked--only looked--did not speak!Emmy!--that I bought them with intent to present them to Her myself. "

"And did she take them, uncle?" asked his niece, in a little surprise. 

"Oh yes! When I told her if she did not I would throw them into the river, as no one else should wear what had been intended for her; poor soul! howdelicate and unwilling she was. I had to convince her they cost threehundred pounds, before she would listen to it; and then she thought itsuch a pity to throw away a thing of so much value. It would have beenwicked, you know, Emmy, dear; and she was much opposed to wickedness andsin in any shape. "

"She must have been a very unexceptionable character indeed, " cried theBaronet, with a smile, as he proceeded to make the necessary orders fortheir journey. "But we must return to the party left at Bath. "

Chapter XXXVI. 

The letters of Lady Laura informed her friends, that she and ColonelDenbigh had decided to remain with his uncle until the recovery of thelatter was complete, and then to proceed to Denbigh Castle, to meet theDuke and his sister during the approaching holidays. 

Emily was much relieved by this postponement of an interview which shewould gladly have avoided for ever; and her aunt sincerely rejoiced thather niece was allowed more time to eradicate impressions, which, she sawwith pain, her charge had yet a struggle to overcome. 

There were so many points to admire in the character of Denbigh; hisfriends spoke of him with such decided partiality; Dr. Ives, in hisfrequent letters, alluded to him with so much affection; that Emilyfrequently detected herself in weighing the testimony of his guilt, andindulging the expectation that circumstances had deceived them all intheir judgment of his conduct. Then his marriage would cross her mind; andwith the conviction of the impropriety of admitting him to her thoughts atall, would come the mass of circumstantial testimony which had accumulatedagainst him. 

Derwent served greatly to keep alive the recollections of his person, however; and as Lady Harriet seemed to live only in the society of theMoseleys, not a day passed without giving the Duke some opportunity ofindirectly preferring his suit. 

Emily not only appeared, but in fact was, unconscious of his admiration;and entered into their amusements with a satisfaction that was increasedby the belief that the unfortunate attachment her cousin Chatterton hadonce professed for herself, was forgotten in the more certain enjoymentsof a successful love. 

Lady Harriet was a woman of manners and character very different fromEmily Moseley; yet had she in a great measure erased the impressions madeby the beauty of his kinswoman from the bosom of the baron. 

Chatterton, under the depression of his first disappointment, it will beremembered, had left B---- in company with Mr. Denbigh. The interest ofthe duke had been unaccountably exerted to procure him the place he had solong solicited in vain, and gratitude required his early acknowledgmentsfor the favor. His manner, so very different from a successful applicantfor a valuable office, had struck both Derwent and his sister as singular. Before, however, a week's intercourse had passed between them, his ownfrankness had made them acquainted with the cause; and a double wishprevailed in the bosom of Lady Harriet, to know the woman who could resistthe beauty of Chatterton, and to relieve him from the weight imposed onhis spirits by disappointed affection. 

The manners of Lady Harriet Denbigh were not in the least forward ormasculine; but they had the freedom of high rank, mingled with a good dealof the ease of fashionable life. Mrs. Wilson noticed, moreover, in herconduct to Chatterton, a something exceeding the interest of ordinarycommunications in their situation, which might possibly have beenattributed more to feeling than to manner. It is certain, one of thesurest methods to drive Emily from his thoughts, was to dwell on theperfections of some other lady; and Lady Harriet was so constantly beforehim in his visit into Westmore land, so soothing, so evidently pleasedwith his presence, that the baron made rapid advances in attaining hisobject. 

He had alluded, in his letter to Emily, to the obligation he was under tothe services of Denbigh, in erasing his unfortunate partiality for her:but what those services were, we are unable to say, unless they were theusual arguments of the plainest good sense, enforced in the singularlyinsinuating and kind manner which distinguished that gentleman. In fact, Lord Chatterton was not formed by nature to love long, deprived of hope, or to resist long the flattery of a preference from such a woman asHarriet Denbigh. 

On the other hand, Derwent was warm in his encomiums on Emily to all butherself; and Mrs. Wilson again thought it prudent to examine into thestate of her feelings, in order to discover if there was any danger of hisunremitted efforts drawing Emily into a connexion that neither herreligion nor prudence could wholly approve. 

Derwent was a man of the world--a Christian only in name; and the cautiouswidow determined to withdraw in season, should she find grounds for herapprehensions. 

About ten days after the departure of the Dowager and her companions, LadyHarriet exclaimed, in one of her morning visits--

"Lady Moseley! I have now hopes of presenting to you soon the mostpolished man in the United Kingdom!"

"As a husband! Lady Harriet?" inquired the other, with a smile. 

"Oh, no! only as a cousin, a second cousin! madam!" replied Lady Harriet, blushing a little, and looking in the opposite direction to the one inwhich Chatterton was placed. 

"But his name? You forget our curiosity! What is his name?" cried Mrs. Wilson, entering into the trifling for the moment. 

"Pendennyss, to be sure, my dear madam: whom else can I mean?"

"And you expect the earl at Bath?" Mrs. Wilson eagerly inquired. 

"He has given us such hopes, and Derwent has written him to-day, pressingthe journey. "

"You will be disappointed, I am afraid, sister, " said the duke. "Pendennyss has become so fond of Wales of late, that it is difficult toget him out of it. "

"But, " said Mrs. Wilson, "he will take his seat in parliament during thewinter, my lord?"

"I hope he will, madam; though Lord Eltringham holds his proxies, in myabsence, in all important questions before the house. "

"Your grace will attend, I trust, " said Sir Edward. "The pleasure of yourcompany is among my expected enjoyments in the town. "

"You are very good, Sir Edward, " replied the duke, looking at Emily. "Itwill somewhat depend on circumstances, I believe. "

Lady Harriet smiled, and the speech seemed understood by all but the ladymost concerned in it. 

"Lord Pendennyss is a universal favorite, and deservedly so, " cried theduke. "He has set an example to the nobility, which few are equal toimitate. An only son, with an immense estate, he has devoted himself tothe profession of a soldier, and gained great reputation by it in theworld; nor has he neglected any of his private duties as a man----"

"Or a Christian, I hope, " said Mrs. Wilson, delighted with the praises ofthe earl. 

"Nor of a Christian, I believe, " continued the duke; "he appearsconsistent, humble, and sincere--three requisites, I believe, for thatcharacter. "

"Does not your grace know?" said Emily, with a benevolent smile. 

Derwent colored slightly as he answered--

"Not as well as I ought; but"--lowering his voice for her ear alone, headded, "under proper instruction I think I might learn. "

"Then I would recommend that book to you, my lord, " rejoined Emily, with ablush, pointing to a pocket Bible which lay near her, though stillignorant of the allusion he meant to convey. 

"May I ask the honor of an audience of Miss Moseley, " said Derwent, in thesame low tone, "whenever her leisure will admit of her granting thefavor?"

Emily was surprised; but from the previous conversation and the current ofher thoughts at the moment, supposing his communication had some referenceto the subject before them, she rose from her chair, and unobtrusively, but certainly with an air of perfect innocence and composure, she wentinto the adjoining room, the door of which was open very near them. 

Caroline Harris had abandoned all ideas of a coronet with the departure ofthe Marquess of Eltringham and his sisters for their own seat; and as afinal effort of her fading charms, had begun to calculate the capabilitiesof Captain Jarvis, who had at this time honored Bath with his company. 

It is true, the lady would have greatly preferred her father's neighbor, but that was an irretrievable step. He had retired, disgusted with herhaughty dismissal of his hopes, and was a man who, although he greatlyadmired her fortune, was not to be recalled by any beck or smile whichmight grow out of caprice. 

Lady Jarvis had, indeed, rather magnified the personal qualifications ofher son; but the disposition they had manifested, to devote some of theirsurplus wealth to purchasing a title, had great weight, for Miss Harriswould cheerfully, at any time, have sacrificed one half her own fortune tobe called my lady. Jarvis would make but a shabby-looking lord, 'tis true;but then what a lord's wife would she not make herself! His father was amerchant, to be sure, but then merchants were always immensely rich, and afew thousand pounds, properly applied, might make the merchant's son abaron. She therefore resolved to inquire, the first opportunity, into thecondition of the sinking fund of his plebeianism, and had serious thoughtsof contributing her mite towards the advancement of the desired object, did she find it within the bounds of probable success. 

An occasion soon offered, by the invitation of the Captain to accompanyhim in an excursion in the tilbury of his brother-in-law. 

In this ride they passed the equipages of Lady Harriet and Mrs. Wilson, with their respective mistresses, taking an airing. In passing the latter, Jarvis bowed (for he had renewed his acquaintance at the rooms, withoutdaring to visit at the lodgings of Sir Edward), and Miss Harris saw bothparties as they dashed by them. 

"You know the Moseleys, Caroline?" said Jarvis, with the freedom hermanners had established between them. 

"Yes, " replied the lady, drawing her head back from a view of thecarriages; "what fine arms those of the Duke's are--and the coronet, it isso noble--so rich--I am sure if I were a man, " laying great emphasis onthe word--"I would be a Lord. "

"If you could, you mean, " cried the captain. 

"Could--why money will buy a title, you know--only most people are fonderof their cash than of honor. "

"That's right, " said the unreflecting captain; "money is the thing, afterall. Now what do you suppose our last mess-bill came to?"

"Oh, don't talk of eating and drinking, " cried Miss Harris, in affectedaversion; "is it beneath the consideration of nobility. "

"Then any one may be a lord for me, " said Jarvis, drily "if they are notto eat and drink; why, what do they live for, but such sort of things!"

"A soldier lives to fight and gain honor and distinction"--for hiswife--Miss Harris would have added, had she spoken all she thought. 

"A poor way that of spending a man's time, " said the Captain. "Now thereis Captain Jones in our regiment; they say he loves fighting as much aseating: if he do, he is a bloodthirsty fellow. "

"You know how intimate I am with your dear mother, " continued the lady, bent on the principal object; "she has made me acquainted with hergreatest wish. "

"Her greatest wish!" cried the Captain, in astonishment; "why, what canthat be?--a new coach and horses?"

"No, I mean one much dearer to us--I should say, to her, than any suchtrifles: she has told me of the _plan_. "

"Plan!" said Jarvis, still in wonder, "what plan?"

"About the fund for the peerage, you know. Of course, the thing is sacredwith me, as, indeed, I am equally interested with you all in its success. "

Jarvis eyed her with a knowing look, and as she concluded, rolling hiseyes in an expression of significance, he said--

"What, serve Sir William some such way, eh?"

"I will assist a little, if it be necessary, Henry, " said the lady, tenderly, "although my mite cannot amount to a great deal. "

During this speech, the Captain was wondering what she could mean; but, having had a suspicion, from something that had fallen from his mother, that the lady was intended for him as a wife, and that she might be asgreat a dupe as Lady Jarvis herself, he was resolved to know the whole, and to act accordingly. 

"I think it might be made to do, " he replied, evasively in order todiscover the extent of his companion's information. 

"Do!", cried Miss Harris, with fervor, "it cannot fail! How much do yousuppose will be wanting to buy a barony, for instance?"

"Hem!" said Jarvis; "you mean more than we have already?"

"Certainly. "

"Why, about a thousand pounds, I think, will do it, with what we have, "said Jarvis, affecting to calculate. 

"Is that all?" cried the delighted Caroline; and the captain grew in aninstant, in her estimation, three inches higher;--quite noble in his air, and, in short, very tolerably handsome. 

From that moment, Miss Harris, in her own mind, had fixed the fate ofCaptain Jarvis, and had determined to be his wife, whenever she couldpersuade him to offer himself; a thing she had no doubt of accomplishingwith comparative ease. Not so the Captain. Like all weak men, there wasnothing of which he stood more in terror than of ridicule. He had heardthe manoeuvres of Miss Harris laughed at by many of the young men in Bath, and was by no means disposed to add himself to the food for mirth of thesewags; and, indeed, had cultivated her acquaintance with a kind of bravadoto some of his bottle companions, in order to show his ability to opposeall her arts, when most exposed to them: for it is one of the greatestdifficulties to the success of this description of ladies, that theircharacters soon become suspected, and do them infinitely more injury thanall their skill in their vocation. 

With these views in the respective champions the campaign opened, and thelady, on her return, acquainted his mother with the situation of the privypurse, that was to promote her darling child to the enviable distinctionof the peerage. Lady Jarvis was for purchasing a baronetcy on the spot, with what they had, under the impression that when ready for anotherpromotion they would only have to pay the difference, as they did in thearmy when he received his captaincy. As, however, the son was opposed toany arrangement that might make the producing the few hundred pounds hehad obtained from his mother's folly necessary, she was obliged topostpone the wished-for day, until their united efforts could compass themeans of effecting the main point. As an earnest, however, of her spiritin the cause, she gave him a fifty pound note, that morning obtained fromher husband, and which the Captain lost at one throw of the dice to hisbrother-in-law the same evening. 

During the preceding events, Egerton had either studiously avoided allcollision with the Moseleys, or his engagements had confined him to suchvery different scenes, that they never met. 

The Baronet had felt his presence a reproach, and Lady Moseley rejoicedthat Egerton yet possessed sufficient shame to keep him from insulting herwith his company. 

It was a month after the departure of Lady Chatterton that Sir Edwardreturned to B----, as related in the preceding chapter, and that thearrangements for the London winter were commenced. 

The day preceding their leaving Bath, the engagement of Chatterton withLady Harriet was made public amongst their mutual friends, and anintimation was given that their nuptials would be celebrated before thefamily of the Duke left his seat for the capital. 

Something of the pleasure that she had for a long time been a stranger to, was felt by Emily Moseley, as the well remembered tower of the villagechurch of B---- struck her sight on their return from their protractedexcursion. More than four months had elapsed since they had commencedtheir travels, and in that period what changes of sentiments had she notwitnessed in others; of opinions of mankind in general, and of oneindividual in particular, had she not experienced in her own person. Thebenevolent smiles, the respectful salutations they received, in passingthe little group of houses which, clustered round the church, had obtainedthe name of "the village, " conveyed a sensation of delight that can onlybe felt by the deserving and virtuous; and the smiling faces, in severalinstances glistening with tears, which met them at the Hall, gave ampletestimony to the worth of both the master and his servants. 

Francis and Clara were in waiting to receive them, and a very few minuteselapsed before the rector and Mrs. Ives, having heard they had passed, drove in also. In saluting the different members of the family, Mrs. Wilson noticed the startled look of the doctor, as the change in Emily'sappearance first met his eyes. Her bloom, if not gone, was greatlydiminished; and it was only when under the excitement of strong emotions, that her face possessed that radiance which had so eminently distinguishedit before her late journey. 

"Where did you last see my friend George?" said the Doctor to Mrs. Wilson, in the course of the first afternoon, as he took a seat by her side, apartfrom the rest of the family. 

"At L----, " said Mrs. Wilson, gravely. 

"L----!" cried the doctor, in evident amazement. "Was he not at Bath thenduring your stay there?"

"No; I understand he was in attendance on some sick relative, whichdetained him from his friends, " said Mrs. Wilson, wondering why the doctorchose to introduce so delicate a topic. Of his guilt in relation to Mrs. Fitzgerald he was doubtless ignorant, but surely not of his marriage. 

"It is now some time since I heard from him, " continued the doctor, regarding Mrs. Wilson expressively, but to which the lady only repliedwith a gentle inclination of the body; and the Rector, after pausing amoment, continued:

"You will not think me impertinent if I am bold enough to ask, has Georgeever expressed a wish to become connected with your niece by other tiesthan those of friendship?"

"He did, " answered the widow, after a little hesitation. 

"He did, and--"

"Was refused, " continued Mrs. Wilson, with a slight feeling for thedignity of her sex, which for a moment caused her to lose sight of justiceto Denbigh. 

Dr. Ives was silent; but manifested by his dejected countenance theinterest he had taken in this anticipated connexion, and as Mrs. Wilsonhad spoken with ill-concealed reluctance on the subject at all, the Rectordid not attempt a renewal of the disagreeable. 

Chapter XXXVII. 

"Samvenson has returned, and I certainly must hear from Harriet, "exclaimed the sister of Pendennyss, as she stood at a window watching thereturn of a servant from the neighboring post-office. 

"I am afraid, " rejoined the Earl, who was seated by the breakfast table, waiting the leisure of the lady to give him his cup of tea--"You findWales very dull, sister. I sincerely hope both Derwent and Harriet willnot forget their promise of visiting us this month. "

The lady slowly took her seat at the table, engrossed in her ownreflections, when the man entered with his budget of news; and havingdeposited sundry papers and letters he respectfully withdrew. The Earlglanced his eyes over the directions of the epistles, and turning to hisservants said, "Answer the bell when called. " Three or four liveriedfootmen deposited their silver salvers and different implements ofservitude, and the peer and his sister were left to themselves. 

"Here is one from the Duke to me, and one for you from his sister, " saidthe brother; "I propose they be read aloud for our mutual advantage. " Tothis proposal the lady, whose curiosity to hear the contents of Derwent'sletter greatly exceeded her interest in that of his sister, cheerfullyacquiesced, and her brother first broke the seal of his own epistle, andread its contents as follow:

"Notwithstanding my promise of seeing you this month in Caernarvonshire, I remain here yet, my dear Pendennyss, unable to tear myself from theattractions I have found in this city, although the pleasure of theircontemplation has been purchased at the expense of mortified feelings andunrequited affections. It is a truth (though possibly difficult to bebelieved), that this mercenary age has produced a female disengaged, young, and by no means very rich, who has refused a jointure of sixthousand a year, with the privilege of walking at a coronation within adozen of royalty itself. "

Here the accidental falling of a cup from the hands of the fair listenercaused some little interruption to the reading of the brother; but as thelady, with a good deal of trepidation and many blushes, apologized hastilyfor the confusion her awkwardness had made, the Earl continued to read. 

"I could almost worship her independence: for I know the wishes of bothher parents were for my success. I confess to you freely, that my vanityhas been a good deal hurt, as I really thought myself agreeable to her. She certainly listened to my conversation, and admitted my approaches, with more satisfaction than those of any other of the men around her; andwhen I ventured to hint to her this circumstance, as some justificationfor my presumption, she frankly acknowledged the truth of my impression, and, without explaining the reasons for her conduct, deeply regretted theconstruction I had been led to place upon the circumstance. Yes, my lord, I felt it necessary to apologize to Emily Moseley for presuming to aspireto the honor of possessing so much loveliness and virtue. The accidentaladvantages of rank and wealth lose all their importance, when opposed toher delicacy, ingenuousness, and unaffected principles. 

"I have heard it intimated lately, that George Denbigh was in some way orother instrumental in saving her life once; and that to her gratitude, andto my resemblance to the colonel, am I indebted to a consideration withMiss Moseley, which, although it has been the means of buoying me up withfalse hopes, I can never regret, from the pleasure her society hasafforded me. I have remarked, on my mentioning his name to her, that sheshowed unusual emotion; and as Denbigh is already a husband, and myselfrejected, the field is now fairly open to you. You will enter on yourenterprise with great advantage, as you have the same flatteringresemblance, and, if anything, the voice, which, I am told, is ourgreatest recommendation with the ladies, in higher perfection than eitherGeorge or your humble servant. "

Here the reader stopped of his own accord, and was so intently absorbed inhis meditations, that the almost breathless curiosity of his sister wasobliged to find relief by desiring him to proceed. Roused by the sound ofher voice, the earl changed color sensibly, and continued:

"But to be serious on a subject of great importance to my future life (forI sometimes think her negative will make Denbigh a duke), the lovely girldid not appear happy at the time of our interview, nor do I think sheenjoys at any time the spirits nature has evidently given her. Harriet isnearly as great an admirer of Miss Moseley, and takes her refusal to heartas much as myself; she even attempted to intercede with her in my behalf. But the charming girl though mild, grateful, and delicate, was firm andunequivocal, and left no grounds for the remotest expectation of successfrom perseverance on my part. 

"As Harriet had received an intimation that both Miss Moseley and her auntentertained extremely rigid notions on the score of religion, she tookoccasion to introduce the subject in her conference with the former, andwas told in reply, 'that other considerations would have determined her todecline the honor I intended her; but that, under any circumstances, amore intimate knowledge of my principles would be necessary before shecould entertain a thought of accepting my hand, or, indeed, that of anyother man. ' Think of that, Pendennyss! The principles of a duke!--now, adukedom and forty thousand a year would furnish a character, with mostpeople, for a Nero. 

"I trust the important object I have had in view here is a sufficientexcuse for my breach of promise to you; and I am serious when I wish you(unless the pretty Spaniard has, as I sometimes suspect, made you acaptive) to see, and endeavor to bring me in some degree connected with, the charming family of Sir Edward Moseley. 

"The aunt, Mrs. Wilson, often speaks of you with the greatest interest, and, from some cause or other, is strongly enlisted in your favor, andMiss Moseley hears your name mentioned with evident pleasure. _Your_religion or principles cannot be doubted. You can offer largersettlements, as honorable if not as elevated a title, a far moreillustrious name, purchased by your own services, and personal meritgreatly exceeding the pretensions of your assured friend and relative, "DERWENT. "

Both brother and sister were occupied with their own reflections forseveral minutes after the letter was ended, and the silence was brokenfirst, by the latter saying with a low tone to her brother, --

"You must endeavor to become acquainted with Mrs. Wilson; she is, I know, very anxious to see you, and your friendship for the general requires itof you. "

"I owe General Wilson much, " replied the brother, in a melancholy voice;"and when we go to Annerdale House, I wish you to make the acquaintance ofthe ladies of the Moseley family, should they be in town this winter;--butyou have yet the letter of Harriet to read. "

After first hastily running over its contents, the lady commenced thefulfilment of her part of the engagement. 

"Frederick has been so much engrossed of late with his own affairs, thathe has forgotten there is such a creature in existence as his sister, or, indeed, any one else but a Miss Emily Moseley, and consequently I havebeen unable to fulfil my promise of making you a visit, for want of aproper escort, and--and--perhaps some other considerations, not worthmentioning in a letter I know you will read to the earl. 

"Yes, my dear cousin, Frederick Denbigh has supplicated the daughter of acountry baronet to become a duchess; and, hear it, ye marriage-seekingnymphs and marriage-making dames! has supplicated in vain!

"I confess to you, when the thing was first in agitation, my aristocraticblood roused itself a little at the anticipated connexion; but finding onexamination that Sir Edward was of no doubtful lineage, and that the bloodof the Chattertons runs in his veins, and finding the young ladyeverything I could wish in a sister, my scruples soon disappeared, withthe folly that engendered them. 

"There was no necessity for any alarm, for the lady very decidedly refusedthe honor offered her by Derwent, and what makes the matter worse, refusedthe solicitations of his sister also. 

"I have fifty times been surprised at my own condescension, and to thismoment am at a loss to know whether it was to the lady's worth, mybrother's happiness, or the Chatterton blood, that I finally yielded. Heigho! this Chatterton is certainly much too handsome for a man; but Iforget you have never seen him. " (Here an arch smile stole over thefeatures of the listener, as his sister continued)--"To return to mynarration, I had half a mind to send for a Miss Harris there is here, tolearn the most approved fashion of a lady preferring a suit, but as famesaid she was just now practising on a certain hero ycleped Captain Jarvis, heir to Sir Timo of that name, it struck me her system might be rather tooabrupt, so I was fain to adopt the best plan--that of trusting to natureand my own feelings for words. 

"Nobility is certainly a very pretty thing (for those who have it), but Iwould defy the old Margravine of ---- to keep up the semblance ofsuperiority with Emily Moseley. She is so very natural, so very beautiful, and withal at times a little arch, that one is afraid to set up any otherdistinctions than such as can be fairly supported. 

"I commenced with hoping her determination to reject the hand of Frederickwas not an unalterable one. (Yes, I called him Frederick, what I never didout of my own family before in my life. ) There was a considerable tremorin the voice of Miss Moseley, as she replied, 'I now perceive, when toolate, that my indiscretion has given reason to my friends to think that Ihave entertained intentions towards his grace, of which I entreat you tobelieve me, Lady Harriet, I am innocent. Indeed--indeed, as anything morethan an agreeable acquaintance I have never allowed myself to think ofyour brother:' and from my soul I believe her. We continued ourconversation for half an hour longer, and such was the ingenuousness, delicacy, and high religious feeling displayed by the charming girl, thatif I entered the room with a spark of regret that I was compelled tosolicit another to favor my brother's love, I left it with a feeling thatmy efforts had been unsuccessful. Yes! thou peerless sister of the morepeerless Pendennyss! I once thought of your ladyship as a wife forDerwent--"

A glass of water was necessary to enable the reader to clear her voice, which grew husky from speaking so long. 

"But I now openly avow, neither your birth, your hundred thousand pounds, nor your merit, would put you on a footing, in my estimation, with myEmily. You may form some idea of her power to captivate, and of herindifference to her conquests, when I mention that she once refused--but Iforget, you don't know him, and therefore cannot be a judge. The thing isfinally decided, and we shortly go into Westmoreland, and next week, theMoseleys return to Northamptonshire. I don't know when I shall be able tovisit you, and think I may _now_ safely invite you to Denbigh Castle, although a month ago I might have hesitated. Love to the earl, and kindassurance to yourself of unalterable regard. 

"HARRIET DENBIGH. "

"P. S. I believe I forgot to mention that Mrs. Moseley, a sister of LordChatterton, has gone to Portugal, and that the peer himself is to go intothe country with us: there is, I suppose, a fellow-feeling between _them_just now, though I do not think Chatterton looks so very miserable as hemight. Adieu. "

On ending this second epistle the same silence which had succeeded thereading of the first prevailed, until the lady with an arch expression, interrupted it by saying, "Harriet will, I think, soon grace the peerage. "

"And happily, I trust, " replied the brother. 

"Do you know Lord Chatterton?"

"I do; he is very amiable, and admirably calculated to contrast with thelively gaiety of Harriet Denbigh. "

"You believe in loving our opposites, I see, " rejoined the lady; and thenaffectionately stretching out her hand to him, she added, "but, Pendennyss, you must give me for a sister one as nearly like yourself aspossible. "

"That might please your affections, " answered the earl with a smile, "buthow would it comport with my tastes? Will you suffer me to describe thekind of man _you_ are to select for your future lord, unless, indeed, youhave decided the point already?"

The lady colored violently, and appearing anxious to change the subject, she tumbled over two or three unopened letters, as she cried eagerly--

"Here is one from the Donna Julia. " The earl instantly broke the seal andread aloud; no secrets existing between them in relation to their mutualfriend. 

"My Lord, "I hasten to write you what I know it will give you pleasure to hear, concerning my future prospects in life. My uncle, General M'Carthy, haswritten me the cheerful tidings, that my father has consented to receivehis only child, without any other sacrifice than a condition of attendingthe service of the Catholic Church without any professions on my side, oreven an understanding that I am conforming to its peculiar tenets. Thismay be, in some measure, irksome at times, and possibly distressing; butthe worship of God with a proper humiliation of spirit, I have learnt toconsider as a privilege to us here, and I owe a duty to my earthly fatherof penitence and care in his later years that will justify the measure inthe eyes of my heavenly One. I have, therefore, acquainted my uncle inreply, that I am willing to attend the Conde's summons at any moment hewill choose to make them; and I thought it a debt due your care andfriendship to apprise your lordship of my approaching departure from thiscountry; indeed, I have great reasons for believing that your kind andunremitted efforts to attain this object have already prepared you toexpect this result. 

"I feel it will be impossible to quit England without seeing you and yoursister, to thank you for the many, very many favors, of both a temporaland eternal nature, you have been the agents of conferring on me. Thecruel suggestions which I dreaded, and which it appears had reached theears of my friends in Spain, have prevented my troubling your lordship oflate unnecessarily with my concerns. The consideration of a friend to yourcharacter (Mrs. Wilson) has removed the necessity of applying for youradvice; she and her charming niece, Miss Emily Moseley, have been, next toyourselves, the greatest solace I have had in my exile, and united youwill be remembered in my prayers. I will merely mention here, deferringthe explanation until I see you in London, that I have been visited by thewretch from whom you delivered me in Portugal, and that the means ofascertaining his name have fallen into my hands. You will be the bestjudge of the proper steps to be taken; but I wish, by all means, somethingmay be done to prevent his attempting to see me in Spain. Should it bediscovered to my relations there that he has any such intentions, it wouldcertainly terminate in his death, and possibly in my disgrace. Wishing youand your kind sister all possible happiness, I remain, "Your Lordship's obliged friend, "JULIA FITZGERALD. "

"Oh!" cried the sister as she concluded the letter, "we must certainly seeher before she goes. What a wretch that persecutor of hers must be! howpersevering in his villainy!"

"He does exceed my ideas of effrontery, " said the earl, in greatwarmth--"but he may offend too far; the laws shall interpose their powerto defeat his schemes, should he ever repeat them. "

"He attempted to take your life, brother, " said the lady shuddering, "if Iremember the tale aright. "

"Why, I have endeavored to free him from that imputation, " rejoined thebrother, musing, "he certainly fired pistol, but the latter hit my horseat such a distance from myself, that I believe his object was to disableme and not murder. His escape has astonished me; he must have fled byhimself into the woods, as Harmer was but a short distance behind me, admirably mounted, and the escort was up and in full pursuit within tenminutes. After all it may be for the best he was not taken; for I ampersuaded the dragoons would have sabred him on the spot, and he may haveparents of respectability, or a wife to kill by the knowledge of hismisconduct. "

"This Emily Moseley must be a faultless being, " cried the sister, as sheran over the contents of Julia's letter. "Three different letters, andeach containing her praises!"

The earl made no reply, but opening the duke's letter again, he appearedto be studying its contents. His color slightly changed as he dwelt on itspassages, and turning to his sister he inquired if she had a mind to trythe air of Westmoreland for a couple of weeks or a month. 

"As you say, my Lord, " replied the lady, with cheeks of scarlet. 

"Then I say we will go. I wish much to see Derwent and I think there willbe a wedding during our visit. "

He rang the bell, and the almost untasted breakfast was removed in a fewminutes. A servant announced that his horse was in readiness. The earlwished his sister a friendly good morning, and proceeded to the door, where was standing one of the noble black horses before mentioned, heldby a groom, and the military-looking attendant ready mounted on another. 

Throwing himself into the saddle, the young peer rode gracefully from thedoor, followed by his attendant horseman. During this ride, the mastersuffered his steed to take whatever course most pleased himself, and hisfollower looked up in surprise more than once, to see the careless mannerin which the Earl of Pendennyss, confessedly one of the best horsemen inEngland, managed the noble animal. Having, however, got without the gatesof his own park, and into the vicinity of numberless cottages andfarm-houses, the master recovered his recollection, and the man ceased towonder. 

For three hours the equestrians pursued their course through the beautifulvale which opened gracefully opposite one of the fronts of the castle; andif faces of smiling welcome, inquiries after his own and his sister'swelfare, which evidently sprang from the heart, or the most familiar butrespectful representations of their own prosperity or misfortunes, gaveany testimony of the feelings entertained by the tenantry of this nobleestate for their landlord, the situation of the young nobleman might bejustly considered envied. 

As the hour for dinner approached, they turned the heads of their horsestowards home; and on entering the park, removed from the scene of industryand activity without, the earl relapsed into his fit of musing. A shortdistance from the house he suddenly called, "Harmer. " The man drove hisspurs into the loins of his horse, and in an instant was by the side ofhis master, which he signified by raising his hand to his cap with thepalm opening outward. 

"You must prepare to go to Spain when required, in attendance on Mrs. Fitzgerald. "

The man received his order with the indifference of one used toadventures and movements, and having laconically dignified his assent, hedrew his horse back again into his station in the rear. 

Chapter XXXVIII. 

The day succeeding the arrival of the Moseleys at the seat of theirancestors, Mrs. Wilson observed Emily silently putting on her pelisse, andwalking out unattended by either of the domestics or any of the family. There was a peculiar melancholy in her air and manner, which inclined thecautious aunt to suspect that her charge was bent on the indulgence ofsome ill-judged weakness; more particularly, as the direction she took ledto the arbor, a theatre in which Denbigh had been so conspicuous an actor. Hastily throwing a cloak over her own shoulders, Mrs. Wilson followedEmily with the double purpose of ascertaining her views, and if necessary, of interposing her own authority against the repetition of similarexcursions. 

As Emily approached the arbor, whither in truth she had directed hersteps, its faded vegetation and chilling aspect, so different from itsverdure and luxuriance when she last saw it, came over her heart as asymbol of her own blighted prospects and deadened affections. Therecollection of Denbigh's conduct on that spot, of his general benevolenceand assiduity to please, being forcibly recalled to her mind at theinstant, forgetful of her object in visiting the arbor, Emily yielded toher sensibilities, and sank on the seat weeping as if her heart wouldbreak. 

She had not time to dry her eyes, and to collect her scattered thoughts, before Mrs. Wilson entered the arbor. Eyeing her niece for a moment with asternness unusual for the one to adopt or the other to receive, she said, "It is a solemn obligation we owe our religion and ourselves, to endeavorto suppress such passions as are incompatible with our duties; and thereis no weakness greater than blindly adhering to the wrong, when we areconvinced of our error. It is as fatal to good morals as it is unjust toourselves to persevere, from selfish motives, in believing those innocentwhom evidence has convicted as guilty. Many a weak woman has sealed herown misery by such wilful obstinacy, aided by the unpardonable vanity ofbelieving herself able to control a man that the laws of God could notrestrain. "

"Oh, dear madam, speak not so unkindly to me, " sobbed the weeping girl;"I--I am guilty of no such weakness, I assure you:" and looking up with anair of profound resignation and piety, she continued: "Here, on this spot, where he saved my life, I was about to offer up my prayers for hisconviction of the error of his ways, and for the pardon of his too--tooheavy transgressions. "

Mrs. Wilson, softened almost to tears herself, viewed her for a momentwith a mixture of delight, and continued in a milder tone, --

"I believe you, my dear. I am certain, although you may have loved Denbighmuch, that you love your Maker and his ordinances more; and I have noapprehensions that, were he a disengaged man, and you alone in theworld--unsupported by anything but your sense of duty--you would ever sofar forget yourself as to become his wife But does not your religion, doesnot your own usefulness in society, require you wholly to free your heartfrom the power of a man who has so unworthily usurped a dominion over it?"

To this Emily replied, in a hardly audible voice, "Certainly--and I prayconstantly for it. "

"It is well, my love, " said the aunt, soothingly; "you cannot fail withsuch means, and your own exertions, finally to prevail over your own worstenemies, your passions. The task our sex has to sustain is, at the best, an arduous one; but so much the greater is our credit if we do it well. "

"Oh! how is an unguided girl ever to judge aright, if, --" cried Emily, clasping her hands and speaking with great energy, and she would havesaid, "one like Denbigh in appearance, be so vile!" Shame, however, kepther silent. 

"Few men can support such a veil of hypocrisy as that with which Isometimes think Denbigh must deceive even himself. His case is anextraordinary exception to a very sacred rule--'that the tree is known byits fruits, '" replied her aunt. "There is no safer way of judging ofcharacter that one's opportunities will not admit of more closelyinvestigating, than by examining into and duly appreciating earlyimpressions. The man or woman who has constantly seen the practice ofpiety before them, from infancy to the noon of life, will seldom so farabandon the recollection of virtue as to be guilty of great enormities. Even Divine Truth has promised that his blessings or his curses shallextend to many generations. It is true, that with our most most guardedprudence we may be deceived. " Mrs. Wilson paused and sighed heavily, asher own case, connected with the loves of Denbigh and her niece, occurredstrongly to her mind. "Yet, " she continued, "we may lessen the danger muchby guarding against it; and it seems to me no more than whatself-preservation requires in a young woman. But for a religious parent toneglect it, is a wilful abandonment of a most solemn duty. "

As Mrs. Wilson concluded, her niece, who had recovered the command of herfeelings pressed her hand in silence to her lips, and showed a dispositionto retire from a spot which she found recalled too many recollections ofa man whose image it was her imperious duty to banish, on everyconsideration of propriety and religion. 

Their walk into the house was silent, and their thoughts were drawn fromthe unpleasant topic by finding a letter from Julia, announcing herintended departure from this country, and her wish to take leave of themin London before she sailed. As she had mentioned the probable day forthat event, both the ladies were delighted to find it was posterior to thetime fixed by Sir Edward for their own visit to the capital. 

Had Jane, instead of Emily, been the one that suffered through the agencyof Mrs. Fitzgerald, however innocently on the part of the lady, herviolent and uncontrolled passions would have either blindly united theinnocent with the guilty in her resentments; or, if a sense of justice hadvindicated the lady in her judgment, yet her pride and ill-guided delicacywould have felt her name a reproach, that would have forbidden anyintercourse with her or any belonging to her. 

Not so with her sister. The sufferings of Mrs. Fitzgerald had taken astrong hold on her youthful feelings, and a similarity of opinions andpractices on the great object of their lives, had brought them together ina manner no misconduct in a third person could weaken. It is true, therecollection of Denbigh was intimately blended with the fate of Mrs. Fitzgerald. But Emily sought support against her feeling from a quarterthat rather required an investigation of them than a desire to _drown_care with thought. 

She never indulged in romantic reflections in which the image of Denbighwas associated. This she had hardly done in her happiest moments; and hismarriage, if nothing else had interfered, now absolutely put it out of thequestion. But, although a Christian, and an humble and devout one, EmilyMoseley was a woman, and had loved ardently, confidingly, and gratefully. Marriage is the business of life with her sex, --with all, next to apreparation for a better world, --and it cannot be supposed that a firstpassion in a bosom like that of our heroine was to be suddenly erased andto leave no vestiges of its existence. 

Her partiality for the society of Derwent, her meditations in which shesometimes detected herself drawing a picture of what Denbigh might havebeen, if early care had been taken to impress him with his situation inthis world, and from which she generally retired to her closet and herknees, were the remains of feelings too strong and too pure to be tornfrom her in a moment. 

The arrival of John, with Grace and Jane, enlivened not only the familybut the neighborhood. Mr. Haughton and his numerous friends poured in onthe young couple with their congratulations, and a few weeks stole byinsensibly, previously to the commencement of the journeys of Sir Edwardand his son--the one to Benfield Lodge and the other to St. James'sSquare. 

On the return of the travellers, a few days before they commenced theirjourney to the capital, John laughingly told his uncle that, although hehimself greatly admired the taste of Mr. Peter Johnson in dress, yet hedoubted whether the present style of fashions in the metropolis would notbe scandalized by the appearance of the honest steward. 

John had in fact noticed, in their former visit to London, mob ofmischievous boys eyeing Peter with indications of rebellious movementswhich threatened the old man, and from which he had retreated by taking acoach, and he now made the suggestion from pure good-nature, to save himany future trouble from a similar cause. 

They were at dinner when Moseley made the remark, and the steward was inhis place at the sideboard--for his master was his home. Drawing near atthe mention of his name first, and casting an eye over his figure to seeif all was decent, Peter respectfully broke silence, determined to defendhis own cause. 

"Why! Mr. John--Mr. John Moseley? if I might judge, for an elderly man, and a serving man, " said the steward, bowing humbly, "I am nodisparagement to my friends, or even to my honored master. "

Johnson's vindication of his wardrobe drew the eyes of the family uponhim, and an involuntary smile passed from one to the other, as theyadmired his starched figure and drab frock, or rather doublet with sleevesand skirts. Sir Edward, being of the same opinion with his son, observed--

"I do think, Uncle Benfield, there might be an improvement in the dress ofyour steward without much trouble to the ingenuity of his tailor. "

"Sir Edward Moseley--honorable sir, " said the steward, beginning to growalarmed, "if I may be so bold, you young gentlemen may like gay clothes;but as for me and his honor; we are used to such as we wear, and what weare used to we love. "

The old man spoke with earnestness, and drew the particular attention ofhis master to a review of his attire. After reflecting that no gentlemanin the house had been attended by any servitor in such a garb, Mr. Benfield thought it time to give his sentiments on the subject. 

"Why I remember that my Lord Gosford's gentleman never wore a livery, norcan I say that he dressed exactly after the manner of Johnson. Everymember had his body servant, and they were not unfrequently taken fortheir masters. Lady Juliana, too, after the death of her nephew, had oneor two attendants out of livery, and in a different fashion from yourattire. Peter, I think with John Moseley there, we must alter you a littlefor the sake of appearances. "

"Your honor!" stammered out Peter, in increased terror; "for Mr. JohnMoseley and Sir Edward, and youngerly gentlemen like, dress may do. Now, your honor, if--" and Peter, turning to Grace, bowed nearly to thefloor--"I had such a sweet, most beautiful young lady to smile on me, Imight wish to change; but, sir, my day has gone by. " Peter sighed as therecollection of Patty Steele and his youthful love floated across hisbrain. Grace blushed and thanked him for the compliment, and gave heropinion that his gallantry merited a better costume. 

"Peter, " said his master, decidedly, "I think Mrs. Moseley is right. If Ishould call on the viscountess (the Lady Juliana, who yet survived anancient dowager of seventy), I shall want your attendance, and in yourpresent garb you cannot fail to shock her delicate feelings. You remind menow I think, every time I look at you, of old Harry, the earl'sgamekeeper, one of the most cruel men T ever knew. "

This decided the matter. Peter well knew that his master's antipathy toold Harry arose from his having pursued a poacher one day, in place ofhelping the Lady Juliana over a stile, in her flight from a bull that wasplaying his gambols in the same field; and not for the world would thefaithful steward retain even a feature, if it brought unpleasantrecollections to his kind master. He at one time thought of closing hisinnovations on his wardrobe, however, with a change of his nether garment;as after a great deal of study he could only make out the resemblancebetween himself and the obnoxious gamekeeper to consist in the leathernbreeches. But fearful of some points escaping his memory in forty years, he tamely acquiesced in all John's alterations, and appeared at hisstation three days afterwards newly decked from head to foot in a moremodern suit of snuff-color. 

The change once made, Peter greatly admired himself in a glass, andthought, could he have had the taste of Mr. John Moseley in his youth todirect his toilet, that the hard heart of Patty Steele would not alwayshave continued so obdurate. 

Sir Edward wished to collect his neighbors round him once more before heleft them for another four months; and accordingly the rector and hiswife, Francis and Clara, the Haughtons, with a few others, dined at theHall by invitation, the last day of their stay in Northamptonshire. Thecompany had left the table to join the ladies, when Grace came into thedrawing-room with a face covered with smiles and beaming with pleasure. 

"You look like the bearer of good news, Mrs. Moseley, " cried the rector, catching a glimpse of her countenance as she passed. 

"Good! I sincerely hope and believe, " replied Grace. "My letters from mybrother announce that his marriage took place last week, and give us hopesof seeing them all in town within the month. "

"Married!" exclaimed Mr. Haughton, casting his eyes unconsciously onEmily, "my Lord Chatterton married! May I ask the name of the bride, mydear Mrs. Moseley?"

"To Lady Harriet Denbigh--and at Denbigh Castle in Westmoreland; but veryprivately, as you may suppose from seeing Moseley and myself here, "answered Grace, her cheeks yet glowing with surprise and pleasure at theintelligence. 

"Lady Harriet Denbigh?" echoed Mr. Haughton; "what! a kinswoman of our oldfriend? _your_ friend, Miss Emily?" The recollection of the service hehad performed at the arbor still-fresh in his memory. 

Emily commanded herself sufficiently to reply, "Brothers' children, Ibelieve, sir. "

"But a _lady_--how came she my lady?" continued the good man, anxious toknow the whole, and ignorant of any reasons for delicacy where so great afavorite as Denbigh was in the question. 

"She is the daughter of the late Duke of Derwent, " said Mrs. Moseley, aswilling as himself to talk of her new sister. 

"How happens it that the death of old Mr. Denbigh was announced as plainGeo. Denbigh, Esq. , if he was the brother of a duke?" said Jane, forgetting for a moment the presence of Dr. And Mrs. Ives, in hersurviving passion for genealogy: "should he not have been called LordGeorge, or honorable?"

This was the first time any allusion had been made to the sudden death inthe church by any of the Moseleys in the hearing of the rector's family;and the speaker sat in breathless terror at her own inadvertency. But Dr. Ives, observing that a profound silence prevailed as soon as Jane ended, answered, mildly, though in a way to prevent any further comments--

"The late Duke's succeeding a cousin-german in the title, was the reason, I presume, Emily, I am to hear from you by letter I hope, after you enterinto the gaieties of the metropolis?"

This Emily cheerfully promised, and the conversation took another turn. 

Mrs. Wilson had carefully avoided all communications with the rectorconcerning his youthful friend, and the Doctor appeared unwilling tocommence anything which might lead to his name being mentioned. "He isdisappointed in him as well as ourselves, " thought the widow, "and itmust be unpleasant to have his image recalled. He saw his attentions toEmily, and he knows of his marriage to Lady Laura of course, and he lovesus all, and Emily in particular, too well not to feel hurt by hisconduct. "

"Sir Edward!" cried Mr. Haughton, with a laugh, "Baronets are likely to beplenty. Have you heard how near we were to have another in theneighborhood lately?" Sir Edward answered in the negative, and hisneighbor continued--

"Why no less a man than Captain Jarvis, promoted to the bloody hand. "

"Captain Jarvis!" exclaimed five or six at once; "explain yourself, Mr. Haughton. "

"My near neighbor, young Walker, has been to Bath on an unusualbusiness--his health--and for the benefit of the country he has broughtback a pretty piece of scandal. It seems that Lady Jarvis, as I am toldshe is since she left here, wished to have her hopeful heir made a lord, and that the two united for some six months in forming a kind of savings'bank between themselves, to enable them at some future day to bribe theminister to honor the peerage with such a prodigy. After awhile thedaughter of our late acquaintance, Sir William Harris, became an accessoryto the plot, and a contributor too, to the tune of a couple of hundredpounds. Some circumstances, however, at length made this latter ladysuspicious, and she wished to audit the books The Captainprevaricated--the lady remonstrated, until the gentleman, with more truththan manners, told her that she was a fool--the money he had expended orlost at dice; and that he did not think the ministers quite so silly as tomake him a lord, or that he himself was such a fool as to make her hiswife; so the whole thing exploded. "

John listened with a delight but little short of what he had felt whenGrace owned her love, and anxious to know all, eagerly inquired--

"But, is it true? how was it found out?"

"Oh, the lady complained of part, and the Captain tells all to get thelaugh on his side; so that Walker says the former is the derision and thelatter the contempt of all Bath. "

"Poor Sir William, " said the baronet, with feeling; "he is much to bepitied. "

"I am afraid he has nothing to blame but his own indulgence, " remarked therector. 

"You don't know the worst of it, " replied Mr. Haughton. "We poor peopleare made to suffer--Lady Jarvis wept and fretted Sir Time out of hislease, which has been given up, and a new house is to be taken in anotherpart of the kingdom, where neither Miss Harris nor the story is known. "

"Then Sir William has to procure a new tenant, " said Lady Moseley, not inthe least regretting the loss of the old one. 

"No! my lady!" continued Mr. Haughton, with a smile. "Walker is, you know, an attorney, and does some business occasionally for Sir William. WhenJarvis gave up the lease, the baronet, who finds himself a little short ofmoney, offered the deanery for sale, it being a useless place to him; andthe very next day, while Walker was with Sir William, a gentleman called, and without higgling agreed to pay down at once his thirty thousand poundsfor it. "

"And who is the purchaser?" inquired Lady Moseley, eagerly. 

"The Earl of Pendennyss. "

"Lord Pendennyss!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilson in rapture. 

"Pendennyss!" cried the rector, eyeing the aunt and Emily with a smile. 

"Pendennyss!" echoed all in the room in amazement. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Haughton, "it is now the property of the earl, who says hehas bought it for his sister. "

Chapter XXXIX. 

Mrs. Wilson found time the ensuing day to ascertain before they left thehall, the truth of the tale related by Mr. Haughton. The deanery hadcertainly changed its master, and a new steward had already arrived totake possession in the name of his lord. What induced Pendennyss to makethis purchase she was at a loss to conceive--most probably somearrangement between himself and Lord Bolton. But whatever might be hismotive, it in some measure insured his becoming for a season theirneighbor; and Mrs. Wilson felt a degree of pleasure at the circumstancethat she had been a stranger to for a long time--a pleasure which wasgreatly heightened as she dwelt on the lovely face of the companion whooccupied the other seat in her travelling chaise. 

The road to London led by the gates of the deanery, and near them theypassed a servant in the livery of those they had once seen following theequipage of the earl. Anxious to know anything which might hasten heracquaintance with this admired nobleman, Mrs. Wilson stopped her carriageto inquire. 

"Pray, sir, whom do you serve?"

"My Lord Pendennyss, ma'am, " replied the man, respectfully taking off hishat. 

"The earl is not here?" asked Mrs. Wilson, with interest. 

"Oh, no, madam; I am here in waiting on his steward. My lord is inWestmoreland, with his grace and Colonel Denbigh, and the ladies. "

"Does he remain there long?" continued the anxious widow, desirous ofknowing all she could learn. 

"I believe not, madam; most of our people have gone to Annerdale-House, and my lord is expected in town with the duke and the colonel. "

As the servant was an elderly man, and appeared to understand themovements of his master so well, Mrs. Wilson was put in unusual spirits bythis prospect of a speedy termination to her anxiety to meet Pendennyss. 

"Annerdale-House is the earl's town residence?" quietly inquired Emily. 

"Yes; he got the fortune of the last duke of that title, but how I do notexactly know. I believe, however, through his mother. General Wilson didnot know his family: indeed, Pendennyss bore a second title during hislifetime; but did you observe how very civil his servant was, as well asthe one John spoke to before, --a sure sign their master is a gentleman?"

Emily smiled at the strong partialities of her aunt, and replied, "Yourhandsome chaise and attendants will draw respect from most men in hissituation, dear aunt, be their masters who they may. "

The expected pleasure of meeting the earl was a topic frequently touchedupon between her aunt and Emily during their journey; the former beginningto entertain hopes she would have laughed at herself for, could they havebeen fairly laid before her; and the latter entertaining a profoundrespect for his character, but chiefly governed by a wish to gratify hercompanion. 

The third day they reached the baronet's handsome house in St. James'sSquare, and found that the forethought of John had provided everything inthe best and most comfortable manner. 

It was the first visit of both Jane and Emily to the metropolis; andunder the protection of their almost equally curious mother, and escortedby John, they wisely determined to visit the curiosities, while theirleisure yet admitted of the opportunity. For the first two weeks theirtime was chiefly employed in the indulgence of this unfashionable andvulgar propensity, which, if it had no other tendency, served greatly todraw the thoughts of both the young women from the recollections of thelast few months. 

While her sister and nieces were thus employed, Mrs. Wilson, assisted byGrace, was occupied in getting things in preparation to do credit to thebaronet's hospitality. 

The second week after their arrival, Mrs. Moseley was delighted by seeingadvance upon her unexpectedly through the door of the breakfast parlor, her brother, with his bride leaning on his arm. After the most sinceregreetings and congratulations, Lady Chatterton cried out gaily, "You see, my dear Lady Moseley, I am determined to banish ceremony betweenus, and so, instead of sending you my card, have come myself to notify youof my arrival. Chatterton would not suffer me even to swallow mybreakfast, he was so impatient to show me off. "

"You are placing things exactly on the footing I wish to see ourselveswith all our connexions, " replied Lady Moseley, kindly; "but what have youdone with the duke? is he not in your train?"

"Oh! he is gone to Canterbury with George Denbigh, madam, " cried the lady, shaking her head reproachfully though affectionately at Emily; "his gracedislikes London just now excessively, he says, and the Colonel beingobliged to leave his wife, on regimental business, Derwent was good enoughto keep him company during his exile. "

"And Lady Laura, do we see her?" inquired Lady Moseley. 

"She came with us. Pendennyss and his sister follow immediately; so, mydear madam, the dramatis personæ will all be on the stage soon. "

Cards and visits now began to accumulate on the Moseleys, and their timeno longer admitted of that unfettered leisure which they had enjoyed attheir entrance on the scene. Mrs. Wilson, for herself and charge, adopteda rule for the government of her manner of living, which was consistentwith her duties. They mixed in general society sparingly; and, above all, they rigidly adhered to the obedience to the injunction which commandedthem to keep the Sabbath day holy; a duty of no trifling difficulty toperform in fashionable society in the city of London, or, indeed, in anyother place, where the influence of fashion has supplanted the laws ofGod. 

Mrs. Wilson was not a bigot; but she knew and performed her duty rigidly. It was a pleasure to her to do so. It would have been misery to dootherwise. In the singleness of heart and deep piety of her niece, she hada willing pupil to her system of morals, and a rigid follower of herreligious practices. As they both knew that the temptations to go astraywere greater in town than in country, they kept a strict guard over thetendency to err, and in watchfulness found their greatest security. 

John Moseley, next to his friends, loved his bays: indeed, if theaggregate of his affections for these and Lady Herriefield had been put inopposite scales, we strongly suspect the side of the horses wouldpredominate. 

One Sunday, soon after being domesticated, John, who had soberly attendedmorning service with the ladies, came into a little room where the morereflecting part of the family were assembled, in search of his wife. 

Grace, we have before mentioned, had become a real member of that churchin which she had been educated, and had entered, under the direction ofDr. Ives and Mrs. Wilson, into an observance of its wholesome ordinances. Grace was certainly piously inclined, if not devout. Her feelings on thesubject of religion had been sensibly awakened during their voyage toLisbon; and at the period of which we write, Mrs. Moseley was as sincerelydisposed to perform her duty as her powers admitted. To the request of herhusband, that she would take a seat in his phaeton while he drove herround the park once or twice, Grace gave a mild refusal, by saying, "It is Sunday, my dear Moseley. "

"Do you think I don't know that?" cried John, gaily. "There will, beeverybody there, and, the better day, the better deed. "

Now, Moseley, if he had been asked to apply this speech to the case beforethem, would have frankly owned his inability; but his wife did not makethe trial: she was contented with saying, as she laid down her book tolook on a face she so tenderly loved, "Ah! Moseley, you should set a better example to those below you in life. "

"I wish to set an example, " returned her husband, with an affectionatesmile, "to all above as well as below me, in order that they may find outthe path to happiness, by exhibiting to the world a model of a wife, inyourself, dear Grace. "

As this was uttered with a sincerity which distinguished the manner ofMoseley, his wife was more pleased with the compliment than she would havebeen willing to make known; and John spoke no more than he thought; for adesire to show his handsome wife was the ruling passion for a moment. 

The husband was too pressing and the wife too fond not to yield thepoint; and Grace took her seat in the carriage with a kind of half-formedresolution to improve the opportunity by a discourse on serioussubjects--a resolution which terminated as all others do, that postponeone duty to discharge another of less magnitude; it was forgotten. 

Mrs. Wilson had listened with interest to the efforts of John to prevailon his wife to take the ride, and on her leaving the room to comply sheobserved to Emily, with whom she now remained alone--

"Here is a consequence of a difference in religious views between man andwife, my child: John, in place of supporting Grace in the discharge of herduties, has been the actual cause of her going astray. "

Emily felt the force of her aunt's remark, and saw its justice; yet herlove for the offender induced her to say--

"John will not lead her openly astray for he has a sincere respect forreligion, and this offence is not unpardonable, dear aunt. "

"The offence is assuredly not unpardonable, " replied Mrs. Wilson, "and toinfinite mercy it is hard to say what is; but it is an offence, anddirectly in the face of an express ordinance of the Lord; it is eventhrowing off the _appearance_ of keeping the Sabbath day holy, much lessobserving the substance of the commandment; and as to John's respect forholy things in this instance, it was injurious to his wife. Had he been anopen deist she would have shrunk from the act in suspicion of itssinfulness. Either John must become Christian, or I am afraid Grace willfall from her under taking. "

Mrs. Wilson shook her head mournfully, while Emily offered up a silentpetition that the first might speedily be the case. 

Lady Laura had been early in her visit to the Moseleys; and as Denbighhad both a town residence and a seat in parliament, it appeared next toimpossible to avoid meeting him or to requite the pressing civilities ofhis wife by harsh refusals; that might prove in the end injurious tothemselves by creating a suspicion that resentment at his not choosing apartner from amongst them, governed the conduct of the Moseleys towards aman to whom they were under such a heavy obligation. 

Had Sir Edward known as much as his sister and daughters he would probablyhave discountenanced the acquaintance altogether; but owing to theignorance of the rest of her friends of what had passed, Mrs. Wilson andEmily had not only the assiduities of Lady Laura but the wishes of theirown family to contend with, and consequently she submitted to theassociation with a reluctance that was in some measure counteracted bytheir regard for Lady Laura, and by compassion for her abused confidence. 

A distant connexion of Lady Moseley's had managed to collect in her housea few hundred of her nominal friends, and as she had been particularlyattentive in calling in person on her venerable relative, Mr. Benfield, soon after his arrival in town, out of respect to her father's cousin, orperhaps mindful of his approaching end, and remembering there were suchthings as codicils to wills, the old man, flattered by her notice, and yettoo gallant to reject the favor of a lady, consented to accompany theremainder of the family on the occasion. 

Most of their acquaintances were there, and Lady Moseley soon foundherself engaged in a party at quadrille, while the young people wereoccupied by the usual amusements of their age in such scenes. Emily alonefeeling but little desire to enter into the gaiety of general conversationwith a host of gentlemen who had collected round her aunt and sisters, offered her arm to Mr. Benfield, on seeing him manifest a disposition totake a closer view of the company, and walked away with him. 

They wandered from room to room, unconscious of the observation attractedby the sight of a man in the costume of Mr. Benfield, leaning on the armof so young and lovely a woman as his niece; and many an exclamation ofsurprise, ridicule, admiration, and wonder had been made, unnoticed by thepair, until finding the crowd rather inconvenient to her companion, Emilygently drew him into one of the apartments where the card-tables, and thegeneral absence of beauty, made room less difficult to be found. 

"Ah! Emmy dear, " said the old gentleman, wiping his face, "times are muchchanged, I see, since my youth. Then you would see no such throngsassembled in so small a space; gentlemen shoving ladies, and yes, Emmy, "continued her uncle in a lower tone, as if afraid of uttering somethingdangerous, "the ladies themselves shouldering the men. I remember at adrum given by Lady Gosford, that although I may, without vanity, say I wasone of the gallantest men in the rooms, I came in contact with but one ofthe ladies during the whole evening, with the exception of handing theLady Juliana to a chair, and that, " said her uncle, stopping short andlowering his voice to a whisper, "was occasioned by a mischance in the oldduchess in rising from her seat when she had taken too much strong waters, as she was at times a little troubled with a pain in the chest. "

Emily smiled at the casualty of her grace, and they proceeded slowlythrough the table until their passage was stopped by a party at the gameof whist, which, by its incongruous mixture of ages and character, forcibly drew her attention. 

The party was composed of a young man of five or six and twenty, whothrew down his cards in careless indifference, and heedlessly played withthe guineas which were laid on the side of the table as markers, or thefruits of a former victory: or by stealing hasty and repeated glancesthrough the vista of the tables into the gayer scenes of the adjoiningrooms, proved he was in duresse, and waited for an opportunity to make hisescape from the tedium of cards and ugliness to the life of conversationand beauty. 

His partner was a woman of doubtful age, and one whose countenance ratherindicated that the uncertainty was likely to continue until the record ofthe tomb-stone divulged the so often contested circumstance to the world. Her eyes also wandered to the gayer scenes, but with an expression ofcensoriousness mingled with longings; nor did she neglect the progress ofthe game as frequently as her more heedless partner. A glance thrown onthe golden pair which was placed between her and her neighbor on herright, marked the importance of the _corner_, and she shuffled the cardswith a nervousness which plainly denoted her apprehension of theconsequences of her partner's abstraction. 

Her neighbor on the right was a man of sixty, and his vestments announcedhim a servant of the sanctuary. His intentness on the game proceeded nodoubt from his habits of reflection; his smile at success, quite possiblyfrom charity to his neighbors; his frown in adversity from displeasure atthe triumphs of the wicked, for such in his heart he had set down MissWigram to be; and his unconquerable gravity in the employment from aprofound regard to the dignity of his holy office. 

The fourth performer in this trial of memories was an ancient lady, gailydressed, and intently eager on the game. Between her and the young man wasa large pile of guineas, which appeared to be her exclusive property, fromwhich she repeatedly, during the play, tendered one to his acceptance onthe event of a hand or a trick, and to which she seldom failed frominadvertence to add his mite, contributing to accumulate the pile. 

"Two double and the rub, my dear doctor, " exclaimed the senior lady, intriumph. "Sir William, you owe me ten. "

The money was paid as easily as it had been won, and the dowager proceededto settle some bets with her female antagonist. 

"Two more, I fancy, ma'am, " said she, closely scanning the contributionsof the maiden. 

"I believe it is right, my lady, " was the answer, with a look that saidpretty plainly, that or nothing. 

"I beg pardon, my dear, here are but four; and you remember two on thecorner, and four on the points. Doctor, I will trouble you for a couple ofguineas from Miss Wigram's store, I am in haste to get to the Countess'sroute. "

The doctor was coolly helping himself from the said store, under thewatchful eyes of its owner, and secretly exulting in his own judgment inrequiring the stakes, when the maiden replied in great warmth, "Your ladyship forgets the two you lost to me at Mrs. Howard's. "

"It must be a mistake, my dear, I always pay as I lose, " cried thedowager, with great spirit, stretching over the table and helping herselfto the disputed money. 

Mr. Benfield and Emily had stood silent spectators of the whole scene, thelatter in astonishment to meet such manners in such society, and theformer under feelings it would have been difficult to describe; for in theface of the Dowager which was inflamed partly from passion and more fromhigh living, he recognised the remains of his Lady Juliana, now theDowager Viscountess Haverford. 

"Emmy, dear, " said the old man, with a heavy-drawn sigh, as if awakingfrom a long and troubled dream, "we will go. "

The phantom of forty years had vanished before the truth and the fanciesof retirement, simplicity, and a diseased imagination yielded to theinfluence of life and common sense. 

Chapter XL. 

With Harriet, now closely connected with them by marriage as well asattachment, the baronet's family maintained a most friendly intercourse;and Mrs. Wilson, and Emily, a prodigious favorite with her new cousin, consented to pass a day soberly with her during an excursion of herhusband to Windsor on business connected with his station. They had, accordingly, driven round to an early breakfast; and Chatterton, afterpolitely regretting his loss, and thanking them for their considerationfor his wife, made his bow. 

Lady Harriet Denbigh had brought the Baron a very substantial addition tohis fortune; and as his sisters were both provided for by amplesettlements, the pecuniary distresses which had existed a twelvemonthbefore had been entirely removed. Chatterton's income was now large, hisdemands upon it small, and he kept up an establishment in proportion tothe rank of both husband and wife. 

"Mrs. Wilson, " cried the hostess, twirling her cup as she followed withher eyes the retreating figure of her husband at the door, "I am about totake up the trade of Miss Harris, and become a match-maker. "

"Not on your own behalf so soon, surely, " rejoined the widow. 

"Oh no, my fortune is made for life, or not at all, " continued the other, gaily; "but in behalf of our little friend Emily here. "

"Me, " cried Emily, starting from a reverie, in which the prospect ofhappiness to Lady Laura was the subject; "you are very good, Harriet; forwhom do you intend me?"

"Whom! Who is good enough for you, but my cousin Pendennyss? Ah!" shecried, laughing, as she caught Emily by the hand, "Derwent and myself bothsettled the matter long since, and I know you will yield when you come toknow him. "

"The duke!" cried the other, with a surprise and innocence thatimmediately brought a blush of the brightest vermillion into her face. 

"Yes, the duke, " said Lady Chatterton: "you may think it odd for adiscarded lover to dispose of his mistress so soon, but both our heartsare set upon it. The earl arrived last night, and this day he and hissister dine with us in a sober way: now, my dear madam, " turning to Mrs. Wilson, "have I not prepared an agreeable surprise for you?"

"Surprise indeed, " said the widow, excessively gratified at the probabletermination to her anxieties for this meeting; "but where are they from?"

"From Northamptonshire, where the earl has already purchased a residence, I understand, and in your neighborhood too; so, you perceive, _he_ atleast begins to think of the thing. "

"A certain evidence, truly, " cried Emily, "his having purchased the house. But was he without a residence that he bought the deanery?"

"Oh no! he has a palace in town, and three seats in the country; but nonein Northamptonshire but this, " said the lady, with a laugh. "To own thetruth he did offer to let George Denbigh have it for the next summer, butthe Colonel chose to be nearer Eltringham; and I take it, it was only aruse in the earl to cloak his own designs. You may depend upon it, wetrumpeted your praises to him incessantly in Westmoreland. "

"And is Colonel Denbigh in town?" said Mrs. Wilson, stealing an anxiousglance towards her niece, who, in spite of all her efforts, sensiblychanged color. 

"Oh, yes! and Laura is as happy--as happy--as myself, " said LadyChatterton, with a glow on her cheeks, as she attended to the request ofher housekeeper, and left the room. 

Her guests sat in silence, occupied with their own reflections, while theyheard a summons at the door of the house. It was opened, and footstepsapproached the door of their own room. It was pushed partly open, as avoice on the other side said, speaking to a servant without, --

"Very well. Do not disturb your lady. I am in no haste. "

At the sound of its well known tones, both the ladies almost sprang fromtheir seats. Here could be no resemblance, and a moment removed theirdoubts. The speaker entered. It was Denbigh. 

He stood for a moment fixed as a statue: It was evident the surprise wasmutual. His face was pale as death, and then instantly was succeeded by aglow of fire. Approaching them, he paid his compliments with greatearnestness, and in a voice in which his softest tones preponderated. 

"I am happy, very happy, to be so fortunate in again meeting with suchfriends, and so unexpectedly. "

Mrs. Wilson bowed in silence to his compliment, and Emily, pale ashimself, sat with her eyes fastened on the carpet, without daring to trusther voice with an attempt to speak. 

After struggling with his mortified feelings for a moment, Denbigh rosefrom the chair he had taken, and drawing near the sofa on which the ladieswere placed, exclaimed with fervor, "Tell me, dear madam, lovely, too lovely Miss Moseley, has one act offolly, of wickedness if you please, lost me your good opinion for ever?Derwent had given me hopes that you yet retained some esteem for mycharacter, lowered, as I acknowledge it to be, in my own estimation. "

"The Duke of Derwent? Mr. Denbigh!"

"Do not; do not use a name, dear madam, almost hateful to me, " cried he, in a tone of despair. 

"If, " said Mrs. Wilson, gravely, "you have made your own namedisreputable, I can only regret it, but--"

"Call me by my title--oh! do not remind me of my folly; I cannot bear it, and from you. "

"Your title!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, with a cry of wonder, and Emilyturned on him a face in which the flashes of color and succeeding palenesswere as quick, and almost as vivid, as the glow of lightning. He caughttheir astonishment in equal surprise. 

"How is this? some dreadful mistake, of which I am yet in ignorance, " hecried, taking the unresisting hand of Mrs. Wilson, and pressing it withwarmth between both his own, as he added, "do not leave me in suspense. "

"For the sake of truth, for my sake, for the sake of this sufferinginnocent, say, in sincerity, who and what you are, " said Mrs. Wilson in asolemn voice, gazing on him in dread of his reply. 

Still retaining her hand, he dropped on his knees before her, as heanswered, --

"I am the pupil, the child of your late husband, the companion of hisdangers, the sharer of his joys and griefs, and would I could add, thefriend of his widow. I am the Earl of Pendennyss. "

Mrs. Wilson's head dropped on the shoulders of the kneeling youth, herarms were thrown in fervor around his neck, and she burst into a flood oftears. For a moment, both were absorbed in their own feelings; but a cryfrom Pendennyss aroused the aunt to the situation of her niece. 

Emily had fallen senseless on the sofa. 

An hour elapsed before her engagements admitted of the return of LadyChatterton to the breakfast parlor, where she was surprised to find thebreakfast equipage yet standing, and her cousin, the earl. Looking fromone to the other in surprise, she exclaimed, --

"Very sociable, upon my word; how long has your lordship honored my housewith your presence, and have you taken the liberty to introduce yourselfto Mrs. Wilson and Miss Moseley?"

"Sociability and ease are the fashion of the day. I have been here anhour, my dear coz, and _have_ taken the liberty of _introducing myself_ toMrs. Wilson and Miss Moseley, " replied the earl gravely, although a smileof meaning lighted his handsome features as he uttered the latter part ofthe sentence, which was returned by Emily with a look of archness andpleasure that would have graced her happiest moments of juvenile joy. 

There was such an interchange of looks, and such a visible alteration inthe appearance of her guests, that it could not but attract the notice ofLady Chatterton. After listening to the conversation between them for sometime in silence; and wondering what could have wrought so sudden a changebelow stairs, she broke forth with saying, --"Upon my word, you are anincomprehensible party to me. I left you ladies alone, and find agentleman with you. I left you grave, if not melancholy, and find you alllife and gaiety. I find you with a stranger, and you talk with him aboutwalks, and rides, and scenes, and acquaintances. Will _you_, madam, or_you_, my lord, be so kind as to explain these seeming inconsistencies?"

"No, " cried the earl, "to punish your curiosity, I will keep you inignorance; but Marian is in waiting for me at your neighbor's, Mrs. Wilmot, and I must hasten to her--- you will see us both by five. " Risingfrom his seat he took the offered hand of Mrs. Wilson and pressed it tohis lips. To Emily he also extended his hand, and received hers in return, though with a face suffused with the color of the rose. Pendennyss held itto his heart for a moment with fervor, and kissing it, precipitately leftthe room. Emily concealed her face with her hands, and, dissolving intears, sought the retirement of an adjoining apartment. 

All these unaccountable movements filled Lady Chatterton with amazement, that would have been too painful for further endurance; and Mrs. Wilson, knowing that further concealment with so near a connexion would beimpossible, if not unnecessary, entered into a brief explanation of theearl's masquerade (although ignorant herself of its cause, or of the meansof supporting it), and his present relation with her niece. 

"I declare it is provoking, " cried Lady Chatterton, with a tear in hereye, "to have such ingenious plans as Derwent and I had made lost from thewant of necessity in putting them in force. Your demure niece has deceivedus all handsomely; and my rigid cousin, too--I will rate him soundly forhis deception. "

"I believe he already repents sincerely of his having practised it, " saidMrs. Wilson, "and is sufficiently punished for his error by itsconsequence. A life of misery for four months is a serious penalty to alover. "

"Yes, " said the other; "I am afraid his punishment was not confined tohimself alone: he has made others suffer from his misconduct. I will ratehim famously, depend upon it I will. "

If anything, the interest felt by Lady Chatterton for her friend wasincreased by this discovery of the affections of Pendennyss, and a fewhours were passed by the three, in we will not say sober delight, fortransport would be a better word. Lady Chatterton frankly declared thatshe would rather see Emily the wife of the earl than of her brother, for_he_ alone was good enough for her; and Mrs. Wilson felt an exhilarationof spirits, in the completion of her most sanguine wishes, that neitherher years, her philosophy, nor even her religion, could entirely restrain. The face of Emily was a continued blush, her eye sparkled with the lustreof renewed hope, and her bosom was heaving with the purest emotions ofhappiness. 

At the appointed hour the rattling of wheels announced the approach of theearl and his sister. 

Pendennyss came into the room with a young woman of great personal beautyand extremely feminine manners, leaning on his arm. He first announced herto Mrs. Wilson as his sister, Lady Marian Denbigh, who received her with afrank cordiality that made them instantly acquainted. Emily, althoughconfiding in the fullest manner in the truth and worth of her lover, hadfelt an inexplicable sensation of pleasure, as she heard the earl speak ofhis sister by the name of Marian; love is such an unquiet, and generallysuch an engrossing passion, that few avoid unnecessary uneasiness whileunder its influence, unless so situated as to enjoy a mutual confidence. 

As this once so formidable Marian approached to salute her with anextended hand, Emily rose, with a face illumined with pleasure, to receiveher. Marian viewed her for a moment intently, and folding her arms aroundher, whispered softly as she pressed her to her heart, "My sister, my only sister. "

Our heroine was affected to tears, and Pendennyss gently separating thetwo he loved best in the world, they soon became calm. 

Lady Marian was extremely like her brother, and had a family resemblanceto her cousin Harriet; but her manners were softer and more retiring, andshe had a slight tinge of a settled melancholy. When her brother spoke shewas generally silent, not in fear, but in love. She evidently regarded himamongst the first of human beings, and all her love was amply returned. 

Both the aunt and niece studied the manners of the earl closely, and foundseveral shades of distinction between what he was and what he had been. Hewas now the perfect man of the world, without having lost the franksincerity which caused you to believe all he said. Had Pendennyss oncetold Mrs. Wilson, with his natural air and manner, "I am innocent, " shewould have believed him, and an earlier investigation would have savedthem months of misery; but the consciousness of his deception hadoppressed him with the curse of the wicked. 

Pendennyss had lost that air of embarrassment and alarm which had so oftenstartled the aunt, even in her hours of greatest confidence, and which hadtheir original in the awkwardness of disguise. But he retained hissoftness, his respect, his modest diffidence of his opinions, althoughsomewhat corrected now by his acknowledged experience and acquaintancewith man. 

Mrs. Wilson thought these decided trifling alterations in manner wereimprovements; but it required some days and a few tender speeches toreconcile Emily to any change in the appearance of Denbigh. 

Lady Marian had ordered her carriage early, as she had not anticipated thepleasure she found, and was engaged to accompany her cousin, Lady Laura, to a fashionable rout that evening. Unwilling to be torn from ins newlyfound friends, the earl proposed that the three ladies should accompanyhis sister to Annerdale House, and then accept himself as an escort totheir own residence. To this Harriet assented, and leaving a message forChatterton, they entered the coach of Marian, and Pendennyss, mounting thedickey, drove off. 

Annerdale House was amongst the best edifices of London. It had beenerected in the preceding century, and Emily for a moment felt, as she wentthrough its splendid apartments, that it threw a chill around her domesticaffections; but the figure of Pendennyss by her side reconciled her to amagnificence she had been unused to, which looked the lord indeed; butwith so much modesty and softness, and so much attention to herself, thatbefore she left the house, Emily began to think it very possible to enjoyhappiness even in the lap of splendor. 

The names of Colonel Denbigh and Lady Laura were soon announced, and thisformidable gentleman made his appearance, He resembled Pendennyss morethan even the duke, and appeared about the same age. 

Mrs. Wilson soon saw that she had no grounds for pitying Lady Laura. Thecolonel was a polished, elegant man, of evident good sense and knowledgeof the world, and apparently devoted to his wife. He was called Georgefrequently by all his relatives, and he, not unfrequently, used the sameterm himself in speaking to the earl. Something was said of a much admiredbust, and the doors of a large library were opened to view it. Emily wasrunning over the backs of a case of books, until her eye rested on one;and half smiling and blushing she turned to Pendennyss, who watched everymovement, as she said, playfully, "Pity me, my lord, and lend me this volume. "

"What is it you read?" he asked, as he bowed his cheerful assent. 

But Emily hid the book in her handkerchief. Pendennyss noticing anunwillingness, though an extremely playful one, to let him into thesecret, examined the case, and perceiving her motive, smiled, as he tookdown another volume and said--

"I am not an Irish, but an English peer, Emily. You have the wrongvolume. "

Emily laughed, with deeper blushes, when she found her wishes detected, while the earl, opening the volume he held--the first of Debrett'sPeerage--pointed with his finger to the article concerning his own family, and said to Mrs. Wilson, who had joined them at the instant--

"To-morrow, dear madam, I shall beg your attention to a melancholy tale, and which may, in some slight degree, extenuate the offence I was guiltyof in assuming, or rather in maintaining an accidental disguise. "

As he ended, he went to the others, to draw off their attention, whileEmily and her aunt examined the paragraph. It was as follows:

"George Denbigh--Earl of Pendennyss--and Baron Lumley, of Lumley Castle---Baron Pendennyss--Beaumaris, and Fitzwalter, born----, of----, in the yearof----; a bachelor. " The list of earls and nobles occupied several pages, but the closing article was as follows:

"George, the 21st earl, succeeded his mother Marian, late Countess ofPendennyss, in her own right, being born of her marriage with GeorgeDenbigh, Esq. , a cousin-german to Frederick, the 9th Duke of Derwent. "

"Heir apparent. The titles being to heirs general, will descend to hislordship's sister, Lady Marian Denbigh, should the present earl diewithout lawful issue. "

As much of the explanation of the mystery of our tales, involved in theforegoing paragraphs, we may be allowed to relate in our own language, what Pendennyss made his friends acquainted with at different times, andin a manner suitable to the subject and his situation. 

Chapter XLI. 

It was at the close of that war which lost this country the wealthiest andmost populous of her American colonies, that a fleet of ships werereturning from their service amongst the islands of the New World, to seekfor their worn out and battered hulks, and equally weakened crews, therepairs and comforts of England and home. 

The latter word, to the mariner the most endearing of all sounds, had, asit were, drawn together by instinct a group of sailors on the forecastleof the proudest ship of the squadron, who gazed with varied emotions onthe land which gave them birth, but with one common feeling of joy thatthe day of attaining it was at length arrived. 

The water curled from the bows of this castle of the ocean, in increasingwaves and growing murmurs, that at times drew the attention of the veterantar to their quickening progress, and having cheered his heart with thesight, he cast his experienced eye in silence on the swelling sails, tosee if nothing more could be done to shorten the distance between him andhis country. 

Hundreds of eyes were fixed on the land of their birth, and hundreds ofhearts were beating in that one vessel with the awakening delights ofdomestic love and renewed affections; but no tongue broke the disciplinedsilence of the ship into sounds that overcame the propitious ripple of thewater. 

On the highest summit of their towering mast floated a small blue flag, the symbol of authority, and beneath it paced a man to and fro the deck, who was abandoned by his inferiors to his more elevated rank. Hissquare-built form and careworn features, which had lost the brilliancy ofan English complexion, and hair whitened prematurely, spoke of bodilyvigor, and arduous services which had put that vigor to the severesttrials. 

At each turn of his walk, as he faced the land of his nativity, a lurkingsmile stole over his sun-burnt features, and then a glance of his eyewould scan the progress of the far-stretched squadron which obeyed hisorders, and which he was now returning to his superiors, undiminished innumbers, and proud with victory. 

By himself stood an officer in a uniform differing from all around him. His figure was small, his eye restless, quick, and piercing, and bent onthose shores to which he was unwillingly advancing, with a look of anxietyand mortification, that showed him the late commander of those vesselsaround them, which, by displaying their double flags, manifested to theeye of the seaman a recent change of masters. 

Occasionally the conqueror would stop, and by some effort of well meant, but rather uncouth civility, endeavor to soften the hours of captivity;efforts which were received with the courtesy of the most punctiliousetiquette, but a restraint which showed that they were unwelcome. 

It was, perhaps, the most unlucky moment that had occurred within the twomonths of their association, for an exchange of their better feelings. Thehonest heart of the English tar dilated with ill-concealed delight at hisapproach to the termination of labors performed with credit and honor, andhis smiles and good humor, which partly proceeded from the feelings of afather and a friend, were daggers to the heart of his discomfited rival. 

A third personage now appeared from the cabin of the vessel, andapproached the spot where the adverse admirals at the moment were engagedin one of these constrained conferences. 

The appearance and dress of this gentleman differed widely from the twojust described. He was tall, graceful, and dignified; he was a soldier, and clearly of high rank. His carefully dressed hair concealed the ravagesof time and on the quarter-deck of a first-rate his attire and mannerswere suited to a field-day in the park. 

"I really insist, monsieur, " cried the admiral, good-naturedly, "that youshall take part of my chaise to London. You are a stranger, and it willhelp to keep up your spirits by the way. "

"You are very good, Monsieur Howell, " replied the Frenchman, with a politebow and forced smile, misconstruing ill-judged benevolence into a wish forhis person to grace a triumph--"but I have accepted the offer Monsieur leGeneral Denbigh was so good as to make me. "

"The comte is engaged to me, Howell, " said the general, with a courtlysmile, "and, indeed, you must leave the ship to night, or as soon as weanchor. --But I shall take daylight and to-morrow. "

"Well--well--Denbigh, " exclaimed the other, rubbing his hands withpleasure as he viewed the increasing power of the wind, "only makeyourselves happy, and I am contented. "

A few hours intervened before they reached the Bay of Plymouth, and roundthe table, after their dinner, were seated the general and Englishadmiral. The comte, under the pretence of preparing his things for aremoval, had retired to his apartment to conceal his feelings;--and thecaptain of the ship was above, superintending the approach of the vesselto her anchorage. Two or three well emptied bottles of wine yet remained;but as the healths of all the branches of the House of Brunswick had beenpropitiated from their contents, with a polite remembrance of Louis XVI. And Marie Antoinette from General Denbigh, neither of the superiors wasmuch inclined for action. 

"Is the Thunderer in her station?" said the admiral to the signallieutenant, who at that moment came below with a report. 

"Yes, sir, and has answered. "

"Very well; make the signal to prepare to anchor. "

"Aye, aye, sir. "

"And here, Bennet, " to the retiring lieutenant--"call the transports allin shore of us. "

"Three hundred and eighty-four, sir, " said the officer, looking at hissignal-book. 

The admiral cast his eye at the book, and nodded an assent. 

"And let the Mermaid--Flora--Weasel--Bruiser, and all the sloops lie welloff, until we have landed the soldiers: the pilot says the channel is fullof luggers, and Jonathan has grown very saucy. "

The lieutenant made a complying bow, and was retiring to execute theseorders, as Admiral Howell, taking up a bottle not yet entirely deserted byits former tenant, cried stoutly--"Here, Bennet--I forgot--take a glass ofwine; drink success to ourselves, and defeat to the French all over theworld. "

The general pointed significantly to the adjoining cabin of the Frenchadmiral, as he pressed his hand on his lips for silence. 

"Oh!" cried Admiral Howell, recollecting himself, continuing in a whisper, "you can drink it in your heart, notwithstanding. "

The signal officer nodded, and drank the liquor. As he smacked his lipswhile going on deck, he thought to himself, these nabobs drink famous goodwine. 

Although the feelings of General Denbigh were under much more command anddisciplined obedience than those of his friend, yet was he too unusuallyelated with his return to home and expected honors. If the admiral hadcaptured a fleet, _he_ had taken an island;--and hand in hand they hadco-operated in unusual harmony through the difficulties of an arduouscampaign. This rather singular circumstance was owing to their personalfriendship. From their youth they had been companions, and although ofvery different characters and habits, chance had cemented their intimacyin more advanced life. While in subordinate stations, they had beenassociated together in service; and the general and admiral, in command ofan army and fleet, had once before returned to England with less renown, as a colonel and a captain of a frigate. The great family influence of thesoldier, with the known circumstance of their harmony, had procured themthis later command, and home, with its comforts and rewards, was closebefore them. Pouring out a glass of Madeira, the general, who alwayscalculated what he said, exclaimed, "Peter--we have been friends from boys. "

"To be sure we have, " said the admiral, looking up in a little surprise atthis unexpected commencement--"and it will not be my fault if we do notdie such, Frederick. "

Dying was a subject the general did not much delight in although ofconspicuous courage in the field; and he proceeded to his more importantpurpose--"I could never find, although I have looked over our family treeso often, that we are in any manner related, Howell. "

"I believe it is too late to mend that matter now, " said the admiral, musing. 

"Why no--hem--I think not, Howell; take a glass of this Burgundy. "

The admiral shook his head with a stubborn resolution to taste nothingFrench, but he helped himself to a bountiful stock of Madeira, as hereplied--

"I should like to know how you can bring it about this time of day, Denbigh. "

"How much money will you be able to give that girl of yours, Peter?" saidhis friend, evading the point. 

"Forty thousand down, my good fellow, and as much more when I die, " criedthe open-hearted sailor, with a nod of exultation. 

"George, my youngest son, will not be rich--but Francis will be a duke, and have a noble estate; yet, " said the general; meditating, "he is sounhappy in his disposition and uncouth in his manners, I cannot think ofoffering him to your daughter as a husband. "

"Isabel shall marry a good-natured man, like myself, or not at all, " saidthe admiral, positively, but not in the least suspecting the drift of hisfriend, who was influenced by anything but a regard for the lady'shappiness. 

Francis, his first born, was, in truth, as he had described; but hisgoverning wish was to provide for his favorite George. Dukes could neverwant wives, but unportioned captains in the guards might. 

"George is one of the best tempers in the world, " said his father, withstrong feeling, "and the delight of us all. I could wish he had been theheir to the family honors. "

"_That_ it is certainly too late to help, " cried the admiral, wondering ifthe ingenuity of his friend could devise a remedy for this evil too. 

"Too late, indeed, " said the other, with a heavy sigh, "but Howell, whatsay you to matching Isabel with my favorite George?"

"Denbigh, " cried the sailor, eyeing him keenly, "Isabel is my only child, and a dutiful, good girl; one that will obey orders if she breaks owners, as we sailors say. Now I did think of marrying her to a seaman, when aproper man came athwart my course; yet your son is a soldier, and that isnext to being in the navy: if-so-be you had made him come aboard me, whenI wanted you to, there would have been no objection at all: however, whenoccasion offers. I will overhaul the lad, and if I find him staunch he mayturn in with Bell and welcome. "

This was uttered in perfect simplicity, and with no intention of givingoffence, partaking partly of the nature of a soliloquy; so the general, greatly encouraged, was about to push the point, when a gun was fired fromtheir own ship. 

"There's some of them lubberly transports won't mind our signals; theyhave had these soldiers so long on board, they get as clumsy as thered-coats themselves, " muttered the admiral, hastening on deck to enforcehis commands. 

A shot or two, sent significantly in the direction of the wanderers, butso as not to hit them, restored order; and within an hour forty line ofbattle ships and a hundred transports were disposed in the best manner forconvenience and safety. 

On their presentation to their sovereign, both veterans were embellishedwith the riband of the Bath; and as their exploits filled the mouths ofthe newsmongers, and the columns of the public prints of the day, the newknights began to think more seriously of building a monument to theirvictories, in a union between their children. The admiral, however, determined to do nothing with his eyes shut, and he demanded a scrutiny. 

"Where is the boy who is to be a duke?" exclaimed he, one day, when hisfriend had introduced the point with a view to a final arrangement. "Bellhas good blood in her veins--is a tight built little vessel--clean heel'dand trim, and would make as good a duchess as the best of them; soDenbigh, I will begin by taking a survey of the senior. "

To this the general had no objection, as he well knew that Francis wouldbe wide of pleasing the tastes of an open-hearted, simple man, like thesailor. They met, accordingly, for what the general facetiously called thereview, and what the admiral innocently termed his survey, at the house ofthe former, when the young gentlemen were submitted to his inspection. 

Francis Denbigh was about four and twenty, of a feeble body, and with aface marked with the small-pox, to approaching deformity; his eye wasbrilliant and piercing, but unsettled, and at times wild--his mannerawkward, constrained, and timid. There would be seen, it is true, anintelligence and animation, which occasionally lighted his countenanceinto gleams of sunshine, that caused you to overlook the lesseraccompaniments of complexion and features in the expression; but they weretransient, and inevitably vanished whenever his father spoke or in anymanner mingled in his pursuits. 

An observer close as Mrs. Wilson, would have said that the feelings of thefather and son were not such as ought to exist between parent and child. 

But the admiral, who regarded model and rigging a good deal, satisfiedhimself with muttering, as he turned his eye on the junior--

"He may do for a duke--but I would not have him for a cockswain. "

George was a year younger than Francis; in form, stature, and personalgrace, the counterpart of his father; his eye was less keen but moreattractive than that of his brother; his air open, polished, and manly. 

"Ah!" thought the sailor, as he ended a satisfactory survey of the youth, "what a thousand pities Denbigh did not send him to sea!"

The thing was soon settled, and George was to be the happy man. Sir Peterconcluded to dine with his friend, in order to settle preliminaries overthe bottle by themselves; the young men and their mother being engaged totheir uncle the duke. 

"Well, Denbigh, " cried the admiral, as the last servant withdrew, "when doyou mean to have the young couple spliced?"

"Why, " replied the wary soldier, who knew he could not calculate onobedience to his mandate with as great a certainty as his friend--"thebetter way is to bring the young people together, in order that they maybecome acquainted, you know. "

"Acquainted--together--" cried his companion, in a little surprise, "whatbetter way is there to bring them together, than to have them up before apriest, or to make them acquainted by letting them swing in the samehammock?"

"It might answer the end, indeed, " said the general, with a smile, "butsomehow or other, it is always the best method to bring young folkstogether, to let them have their own way in the affair for a time. "

"Own way!" rejoined Sir Peter, bluntly, "did you ever find it answer tolet a woman have her own way, Sir Frederick?"

"Not common women certainly, my good friend, " said the general, "but sucha girl as my intended daughter is an exception. "

"I don't know that, " cried the sailor; "Bell is a good girl, but she hasher quirks and whims like all the sex. "

"You have had no trouble with her as yet, I believe, Howell, " said SirFrederick cavalierly, throwing an inquiring glance on his friend at thesame time. 

"No, not yet--nor do I think she will ever dare to mutiny; but there hasbeen one wishing to take her in tow already since we got in. "

"How!" said the other in alarm, "who--what is he? some officer in thenavy, I suppose. "

"No, he was a kind of chaplain, one Parson Ives, a good sort of a youthenough, and a prodigious favorite with my sister, Lady Hawker. "

"Well, what did you answer, Peter?" said his companion in increasinguneasiness; "did you put him off?"

"Off! to be sure I did--do you think I wanted a barber's clerk for ason-in-law? No, no, Denbigh; a soldier is bad enough, without having apreacher. "

The general compressed his lips at this direct attack on a profession thathe thought the most honorable of any in the world, in some resentment; butremembering the eighty thousand pounds, and accustomed to the ways of theother, he curbed his temper, and inquired--

"But Miss Howell--your daughter--how did she stand affected to thispriest?"

"How--why--how?--why I never asked her. "

"Never asked her?"

"No, never asked her: she is my daughter, you know, and bound to obey myorders, and I did not choose she should marry a parson; but, once for all, when is the wedding to take place?"

General Denbigh had indulged his younger son too blindly and too fondly toexpect that implicit obedience the admiral calculated to a certainty on, and with every prospect of not being disappointed, from his daughter. Isabel Howell was pretty, mild, and timid, and unused to oppose any of herfather's commands; but George Denbigh was haughty, positive, andself-willed, and unless the affair could be so managed as to make him awilling assistant in the courtship, his father knew it might be abandonedat once. He thought his son might be led, but not driven; and, relying onhis own powers for managing, the general saw his only safety in executingthe scheme was in postponing his advances for a regular siege to thelady's heart. 

Sir Peter chafed and swore at this circumlocution: the thing could be doneas well in a week as in a year; and the veterans, who, for a miracle, hadagreed in their rival stations, and in doubtful moments of success, werenear splitting on the point of marrying a girl of nineteen. 

As Sir Peter both loved his friend, and had taken a prodigious fancy tothe youth, he however was fain to submit to a short probation. 

"You are always for going a round-about way to do a thing, " said theadmiral, as he yielded the point. "Now, when you took that battery, hadyou gone up in front, as I advised you, you would have taken it in tenminutes, instead of five hours. "

"Yes, " said the other, with a friendly shake of the hand at parting, "andlost fifty men in place of one by the step. "

Chapter XLII. 

The Honorable General Denbigh was the youngest of three sons. His seniors, Francis and George, were yet bachelors. The death of a cousin had madeFrancis a duke while yet a child, and both he and his favorite brotherGeorge, had decided on lives of inactivity and sluggishness. 

"When I die, brother, " the oldest would say, "you will succeed me, andFrederick can provide heirs for the name hereafter. "

This arrangement had been closely adhered to, and the two elder brothersreached the ages of fifty-five and fifty-six, without altering theircondition. In the mean time, Frederick married a young woman of rank andfortune; the fruits of their union being the two young candidates for thehand of Isabel Howell. 

Francis Denbigh, the eldest son of the general, was naturally diffident, and, in addition, it was his misfortune to be the reverse of captivatingin external appearance. The small-pox sealed his doom;--ignorance, and theviolence of the attack, left him indelibly impressed with the ravages ofthat dreadful disorder. Oh the other hand, his brother escaped without anyvestiges of the complaint; and his spotless skin and fine opencountenance, met the gaze of his mother, after the recovery of the two, instriking contrast to the deformed lineaments of his elder brother. Such anoccurrence is sure to excite one of two feelings in the breast of everybeholder--pity or disgust; and, unhappily for Francis, maternaltenderness, in his case, was unable to counteract the latter sensation. George become a favorite, and Francis a neutral. The effect was easy to beseen, and it was rapid, as it was indelible. 

The feelings of Francis were sensitive to an extreme. He had morequickness, more sensibility, more real talent than George; which enabledhim to perceive, and caused him to feel more acutely, the partiality ofhis mother. 

As yet, the engagements and duties of the general had kept his childrenand, their improvements out of his sight; but at the ages of eleven andtwelve, the feelings of a father, began, to take pride in the possessionof his sons. 

On his return from a foreign station, after an absence of two years, hischildren were ordered from school to meet him. Francis had improved instature, but not in beauty; George had flourished in both. 

The natural diffidence of the former was increased, by perceiving that hewas no favorite, and the effect began to show itself on manners at no timeengaging. He met his father with doubt, and he saw with anguish, that theembrace received by his brother much exceeded in warmth that which hadbeen bestowed on himself. 

"Lady Margaret, " said the general to his wife, as he followed the boys asthey retired from the dinner table, with his eyes, "it is a thousandpities George had not been the elder. _He_ would have graced a dukedom ora throne. Frank is only fit for a parson. "

This ill-judged speech was uttered sufficiently loud to be overheard byboth the sons: on the younger, it made a pleasurable sensation for themoment. His father--his dear father, had thought him fit to be a king; andhis father must be a judge, whispered his native vanity; but all this timethe connexion between the speech and his brother's rights did not presentthemselves to his mind. George loved this brother too well, toosincerely, to have injured him even in thought; and so far as Francis wasconcerned, his vanity was as blameless as it was natural. 

The effect produced on the mind of Francis was different both in substanceand in degree. It mortified his pride, alarmed his delicacy, and woundedhis already morbid sensibility to such an extent, as to make him entertainthe romantic notion of withdrawing from the world, and of yielding abirthright to one so every way more deserving of it than himself. 

From this period might be dated an opinion of Francis's, which neverafterwards left him; he fancied he was doing injustice to another, andthat other, a brother whom he ardently loved, by continuing to exist. Hadhe met with fondness in his parents, or sociability in his playfellows, these fancies would have left him as he grew into life. But the affectionsof his parents were settled on his more promising brother; and his mannersdaily increasing in their repulsive traits, drove his companions to thesociety of others, more agreeable to their own buoyancy and joy. 

Had Francis Denbigh, at this age, met with a guardian clear-sighted enoughto fathom his real character, and competent to direct his onward course, he would yet have become an ornament to his name and country, and a usefulmember of society. But no such guide existed. His natural guardians, inhis particular case, were his worst enemies; and the boys left school forcollege four years afterwards, each advanced in his respective propertiesof attraction and repulsion. 

Irreligion is hardly a worse evil in a family than favoritism. When onceallowed to exist, in the breast of the parent, though hid apparently fromall other eyes, its sad consequences begin to show themselves. Effects areproduced, and we look in vain for the cause. The awakened sympathies ofreciprocal caresses and fondness are mistaken for uncommon feelings, andthe forbidding aspect of deadened affections is miscalled nativesensibility. 

In this manner the evil increases itself, until manners are formed, andcharacters created, that must descend with their possessor to the tomb. 

In the peculiar formation of the mind of Francis Denbigh, the evil wasdoubly injurious. His feelings required sympathy and softness, and theymet only with coldness and disgust. George alone was an exception to therule. _He_ did love his brother; but even his gaiety and spirits finallytired of the dull uniformity of the diseased habits of his senior. 

The only refuge Francis found in his solitude, amidst the hundreds of theuniversity, was in his muse and in the powers of melody. The voice of hisfamily has been frequently mentioned in these pages; and if, as Lady Laurahad intimated, there had ever been a siren in the race, it was a male one. He wrote prettily, and would sing these efforts of his muse to music ofhis own, drawing crowds around his windows, in the stillness of the night, to listen to sounds as melodious as they were mournful. His poeticalefforts partook of the distinctive character of the man, being melancholy, wild, and sometimes pious. 

George was always amongst the most admiring of his brother's auditors, andwould feel a yearning of his heart towards him, at such moments, that waspainful. But George was too young and too heedless, to supply the place ofa monitor, or to draw his thoughts into a more salutary train. This wasthe _duty_ of his parents, and should have been their _task_. But theworld, his rising honors, and his professional engagements, occupied thetime of the father; and fashion, parties, and pleasure, killed the time ofhis mother. When they did think of their children, it was of George; thepainful image of Francis being seldom admitted to disturb their serenity. 

George Denbigh was open-hearted without suspicion, and a favorite. Thefirst quality taxed his generosity, the second subjected him to fraud, andthe third supplied him with the means. But these means sometimes failed. The fortune of the general, though handsome, was not more than competentto support his style of living. He expected to be a duke himself one day, and was anxious to maintain an appearance now that would not disgrace hisfuture elevation. A system of strict but liberal economy had been adoptedin the case of his sons. They had, for the sake of appearances, a statedand equal allowance. 

The duke had offered to educate the heir himself, and under his own eye. But to this Lady Margaret had found some ingenious excuse, and one thatseemed to herself and the world honorable to her natural feeling; but hadthe offer been made to George, these reasons would have vanished in thedesire to advance his interests, or to gratify his propensities. Suchdecisions are by no means uncommon; parents having once decided on themerits and abilities of their children, frequently decline theinterference of third persons, since the improvement of their denouncedoffspring might bring their own judgment into question, if it did notconvey an indirect censure on their justice. 

The heedlessness of George brought his purse to a state of emptiness. Hislast guinea was gone, and two months were wanting to the end of thequarter. George had played and been cheated. He had ventured to apply tohis mother for small sums, when his dress or some trifling indulgencerequired an advance; and always with success. But here were sixty guineasgone at a blow, and pride, candor, forbade his concealing the manner ofhis loss, if he made the application. This was dreadful; his ownconscience reproached him, and he had so often witnessed the violence ofhis mother's resentments against Francis, for faults which appeared to himvery trivial, not to stand in the utmost dread of her more justdispleasure in the present case. 

Entering the apartment of his brother, in this disturbed condition, Georgethrew himself into a chair, and with his face concealed between his hands, sat brooding over his forlorn situation. 

"George!" said his brother, soothingly, "you are in distress; can Irelieve you in any way?"

"Oh no--no--no--Frank; it is entirely out of your power. "

"Perhaps not, my dear brother, " continued the other, endeavoring to drawhis hand into his own. 

"Entirely! entirely!" said George. Then springing up in despair, heexclaimed, "But I must live--I cannot die. "

"Live! die!" cried Francis, recoiling in horror. "What do you mean by suchlanguage? Tell me, George, am I not your brother? Your only brother andbest friend?"

Francis felt he had no friend if George was not that friend, and his facegrew pale while the tears flowed rapidly down his cheeks. 

George could not resist such an appeal. He caught the hand of his brotherand made him acquainted with his losses and his wants. 

Francis mused some little time over his narration, ere he broke silence. 

"It was all you had?"

"The last shilling, " cried George, beating his head with his hand. 

"How much will you require to make out the quarter?"

"Oh I must have at least fifty guineas, or how can I live at all?"

The ideas of life in George were connected a good deal with the manner itwas to be enjoyed. His brother appeared struggling with himself, and thenturning to the other, continued, "But surely, under present circumstances, you could make less do. "

"Less, never--hardly that"--interrupted George, vehemently. "If LadyMargaret did not inclose me a note now and then, how could we get along atall? don't you find it so yourself, brother?"

"I don't know, " said Francis, turning pale--

"Don't know!" cried George, catching a view of his alteredcountenance--"you get the money, though?"

"I do not remember it, " said the other, sighing heavily. 

"Francis, " cried George, comprehending the truth, "you shall share everyshilling I receive in future--you shall--indeed you shall. "

"Well, then, " rejoined Francis with a smile, "it is a bargain; and youwill receive from me a supply in your present necessities. "

Without waiting for an answer, Francis withdrew into an inner apartment, and brought out the required sum for his brother's subsistence for twomonths. George remonstrated, but Francis was positive; he had been saving, and his stock was ample for his simple habits without it. 

"Besides, you forget we are partners, and in the end I shall be a gainer. "

George yielded to his wants and his brother's entreaties, and he gave himgreat credit for the disinterestedness of the act. Several weeks passedwithout any further allusion to this disagreeable subject, which had atleast the favorable result of making George more guarded and a betterstudent. 

The brothers, from this period, advanced gradually in those distinctivequalities which were to mark the future men; George daily improving ingrace and attraction, Francis, in an equal ratio, receding from those veryattainments which it was his too great desire to possess. In the educationof his sons, General Denbigh had preserved the appearance of impartiality;his allowance to each was the same: they were at the same college, theyhad been at the same school; and if Frank did not improve as much as hisyounger brother, it was unquestionably his own obstinacy and stupidity, and surely not want of opportunity or favor. 

Such, then, were the artificial and accidental causes, which kept a noble, a proud, an acute but a diseased mind, in acquirements much below anotherevery way its inferior, excepting in the happy circumstance of wantingthose very excellences, the excess and indiscreet management of whichproved the ruin instead of the blessing of their possessor. 

The duke would occasionally rouse himself from his lethargy, and complainto the father, that the heir of his honors was far inferior to his youngerbrother in acquirements, and remonstrate against the course which producedsuch an unfortunate inequality. On these occasions a superficial statementof his system from the general met the objection; they cost the samemoney, and he was sure he not only wished but did everything an indulgentparent could, to render Francis worthy of his future honors. Another evilof the admission of feelings of partiality, in the favor of one child, tothe prejudice of another, is that the malady is contagious as well aslasting: it exists without our own knowledge, and it seldom fails toaffect those around us. The uncle soon learnt to distinguish George as thehope of the family, yet Francis must be the heir of its honors, andconsequently of its wealth. 

The duke and his brother were not much addicted to action, hardly toreflection; but if anything could rouse them to either, it was thereputation of the house of Denbigh. Their ideas of reputation, it is true, were of their own forming. 

The hour at length drew near when George expected a supply from theill-judged generosity of his mother; it came, and with a heart beatingwith pleasure, the youth flew to the room of Francis with a determinationto force the whole of his twenty pounds on his acceptance. On throwingopen his door, he saw his brother evidently striving to conceal somethingbehind his books. It was at the hour of breakfast, and George had intendedfor a novelty to share his brother's morning repast. They always met atdinner, but the other meals were made in their own rooms. George looked invain for the usual equipage of the table; suspicion flashed upon him; hethrew aside the books, and a crust of bread and a glass of water met hiseye; the truth now flashed upon him in all its force. 

"Francis, my brother, to what has my extravagance reduced you!" exclaimedthe contrite George with a heart nearly ready to burst. Francis endeavoredto explain, but a sacred regard to the truth held him tongue-tied, untildropping his head on the shoulder of George, he sobbed out--

"It is a trifle; nothing to what I would do for you, my brother. "

George felt all the horrors of remorse, and was much too generous toconceal his error any longer; he wrote a circumstantial account of thewhole transaction to Lady Margaret. 

Francis for a few days was a new being. He had acted nobly, his conscienceapproved of his motives, and of his delicate concealment of them; he infact began to think there were in himself the seeds of usefulness, as hisbrother, who from this moment began to understand his character better, attached himself more closely to him. 

The eye of Francis met that of George with the look of acknowledgedaffection, his mind became less moody, and his face was sometimesembellished with a smile. 

The reply of their mother to the communication of George threw a damp onthe revived hopes of the senior, and drove him back into himself withtenfold humility. 

"I am shocked, my child, to find that you have lowered yourself, andforgot the family you belong to, so much as to frequent thosegambling-houses, which ought not to be suffered in the neighborhood of theuniversities: when at a proper age and in proper company, your occasionalindulgence at cards I could not object to, as both your father and myselfsometimes resort to it as an amusement, but never in low company. Theconsequence of mingling in such society is, that you were cheated, andsuch will always be your lot unless you confine yourself to associatesmore becoming your rank and illustrious name. 

"As to Francis, I see every reason to condemn the course he has taken. Being the senior by a year, he should have taken the means to prevent yourfalling into such company; and he should have acquainted me immediatelywith your loss, in place of wounding your pride by subjecting you to themortification of receiving a pecuniary obligation from one so little olderthan yourself, and exposing his own health by a diet on bread and water, as you wrote me, for a whole month. Both the general and myself areseriously displeased with him, and think of separating you, as you thusconnive at each other's follies. "

George was too indignant to conceal this letter and the reflections ofFrancis were dreadful. 

For a short time he actually meditated suicide, as the only method ofremoving himself from before the advancement of George. Had not Georgebeen more attentive and affectionate than formerly, the awful expedientmight have been resorted to. 

From college the young men went, one into the army and the other to themansion of his uncle. George became an elegant, gay, open-hearted, admiredcaptain in the guards; and Francis stalked through the halls of hisancestors, their acknowledged future lord, but a misanthrope; hateful tohimself and disagreeable to all around him. 

This picture may be highly wrought, but the effects, in the case ofFrancis, were increased by the peculiar tone of his diseased state ofmind. The indulgence of favoritism, nevertheless, always brings its ownsad consequences, in a greater or less degree, while it seldom fails togive sorrow and penitence to the bosom of the parents. 

Chapter XLIII. 

No little art and management had been necessary to make the admiralauxiliary to the indirect plan proposed by his friend to bring George andIsabel together. This, however, effected, the general turned his wholestrategy to the impression to be made on the heart of the young gentleman. 

Sir Frederick Denbigh had the same idea of the virtue of management as theDowager Lady Chatterton, but he understood human nature better. 

Like a prudent officer, his attacks were all masked, and, like a greatofficer, they seldom failed of success. 

The young couple were thrown in each other's way, and as Isabel wasextremely attractive, somewhat the opposite to himself in ardor oftemperament and vivacity, modest, and sensible, it cannot be expected thatthe association was maintained by the youth with perfect impunity. Withina couple of months he fancied himself desperately in love with IsabelHowell; and, in truth, he had some reason for the supposition. 

The general watched every movement of his son with a wary and vigilanteye--occasionally adding fuel to the flame, by drawing his attention toprojects of matrimony in other quarters, until George began to think hewas soon to undergo a trial of his constancy, and in consequence he armedhimself with a double portion of admiration for his Isabel, in order toenable himself to endure the persecution; while the admiral several timesendangered the success of the whole enterprise by volunteer contributionsto the hopes of the young man, which only escaped producing an oppositeeffect to that which was intended, by being mistaken for the overflowingsof good nature and friendship. 

After suffering his son to get, as he thought, sufficiently entangled inthe snares of Cupid, Sir Frederick determined to fire a volley from one ofhis masked batteries, which he rightly judged would bring on a generalengagement. They were sitting at the table after dinner, alone, when thegeneral took the advantage of the name of Miss Howell being accidentallymentioned, to say--

"By the by, George, my friend the admiral said something yesterday on thesubject of your being so much with his daughter. I wish you to becautious, and not to give the old sailor offence in any way, for he is myparticular friend. "

"He need be under no violent apprehensions, " cried George, coloring highlywith shame and pride, "I am sure a Denbigh is no unworthy match for adaughter of Sir Peter Howell. "

"Oh! to be sure not, boy, we are as old a house as there is in thekingdom, and as noble too; but the admiral has queer notions, and, perhaps, he has some cub of a sailor in his eye for a son-in-law. Beprudent, my boy, be prudent; that is all I ask of you. "

The general, satisfied with the effect he had produced, carelessly arosefrom his seat, and joined Lady Margaret in her drawing-room. 

George remained for several minutes musing on his father's singularrequest, as well as the admiral's caution, when he sprang from his seat, caught up his hat and sword, and in ten minutes rang at Sir Peter's doorin Grosvenor Square. He was admitted, and ascending to the drawing-room, he met the admiral on his way out. Nothing was further from the thoughtsof the veteran than a finesse like the general's; and, delighted to seeGeorge on the battle-ground, he pointed significantly over his shouldertowards the door of the room Isabel was in, and exclaimed, with agood-natured smile, "There she is, my hearty; lay her aside, and hang me if she don't strike. I say, George, faint heart never won fair lady: remember that, my boy; no, nor a French ship. "

George would have been at some loss to have reconciled this speech to hisfather's caution, if time had been allowed him to think at all; but thedoor being open he entered, and found Isabel endeavoring to hide hertears. 

The admiral, dissatisfied from the beginning with the tardy method ofdespatching things, thought he might be of use in breaking the ice forGeorge, by trumpeting his praises on divers occasions to his daughter. Under all circumstances, he thought she might be learning to love the man, as he was to be her husband; and speeches like the following had beenfrequent of late from the parent to the child:

"There's that youngster, George Denbigh: now, Bell, is he not a finelooking lad? Then I know he is brave. His father before him, was goodstuff and a true Englishman. What a proper husband he would make for ayoung woman, he loves his king and country so; none of your new-fanglednotions about religion and government, but a sober, religious churchman;that is, as much so, girl, as you can expect in the guards. No Methodist, to be sure;--it's a great pity he wasn't sent to sea, don't you think so?But cheer up, girl, one of these days he may be taking a liking to youyet. "

Isabel, whose fears taught her the meaning of these eloquent praises ofCaptain Denbigh, listened to these harangues in silence, and oftenmeditated on their import by herself in tears. 

George approached the sofa on which the lady was seated before she hadtime to conceal the traces of her sorrow, and in a voice softened byemotion, he took her hand gently as he said, --

"What can have occasioned this distress to Miss Howell. If anything in mypower to remove, or which a life devoted to her service can mitigate, shehas only to command me to find a cheerful obedience. "

"The trifling causes of sorrow in a young woman, " replied Isabel, endeavoring to smile, "will hardly require such serious services to removethem. "

But the lady was extremely interesting at the moment. George was goaded byhis father's caution, and urged on by his own feelings, with greatsincerity, and certainly much eloquence, he therefore proffered his loveand hand to the acceptance of his mistress. 

Isabel heard him in painful silence. She respected him, and dreaded hispower over her father; but, unwilling to abandon hopes to which she yetclung as to her spring of existence, with a violent effort she determinedto throw herself on the generosity of her lover. 

During her father's late absence Isabel had, as usual, since the death ofher mother, been left with his sister, and had formed an attachment for ayoung clergyman, a younger son of a baronet, and the present Dr. Ives. Theinclination had been mutual; and as Lady Hawker knew her brother to beperfectly indifferent to money, she could see no possible objection to itsindulgence. 

On his return, Ives made his proposals, as related; and although warmlybacked by the recommendations of the aunt, he was refused. Out of delicacythe wishes of Isabel had not been mentioned by her clerical lover, andthe admiral supposed he had only complied with his agreement with thegeneral, without in any manner affecting the happiness of his daughter byhis answer. But the feelings which prompted the request still remained infull vigor in the lovers; and Isabel now, with many blushes and somehesitation of utterance, made George fully acquainted with the state ofher heart, giving him at the same time to understand that he was the onlyobstacle to her happiness. 

It cannot be supposed that George heard her without pain or mortification. The struggle with self-love was a severe one, but his better feelingsprevailed, and he assured the anxious Isabel that from his importunitiesshe had nothing to apprehend in future. The grateful girl overwhelmed himwith thanks, and George had to fly ere he repented of his own generosity. 

Miss Howell intimated, in the course of her narrative, that a betterunderstanding existed between their parents than the caution of thegeneral had discovered to his unsuspecting child, and George wasdetermined to know the worst at once. 

At supper he mentioned, as if in remembrance of his father's injunction, that he had been to take his leave of Miss Howell, since he found hisvisits gave uneasiness to her friends. "On the whole, " he added, endeavoring to yawn carelessly, "I believe I shall visit there no more. "

"Nay, nay, " returned Sir Frederick, a little displeased at his son'sobedience, "I meant no such thing. Neither the admiral nor myself, has theleast objection to your visiting in moderation; indeed, you may marry thegirl with all our hearts, if you can agree. "

"But we can't agree, I take it, " said George, looking up at the wall. 

"Why not? what hinders?' cried his father unguardedly. 

"Only--only I don't like her, " said the son, tossing off a glass of wine, which nearly strangled him. 

"You don't, " cried the general with great warmth, thrown entirely off hisguard by this unexpected declaration "and may I presume to ask the reasonwhy you do not like Miss Howell, sir?"

"Oh! you know, one never pretends to give a reason for this sort offeeling, my dear sir. "

"Then, " cried his father with increasing heat, "you must allow me to say, my dear sir, that the sooner you get rid of these sort of feelings thebetter. I choose you shall not only like, but love Miss Howell; and this Ihave promised her father. "

"I thought that the admiral was displeased with my coming to his house somuch--or did I not understand you this morning?"

"I know nothing of his displeasure, and care less. He has agreed thatIsabel shall be your wife, and I have passed my word to the engagement;and if, sir, you wish to be considered as my son, you will prepare tocomply. "

George was expecting to discover some management on the part of hisfather, but by no means so settled an arrangement, and his anger was inproportion to the deception. 

To annoy Isabel any further was out of the question; to betray her, base;and the next morning he sought an audience with the Duke. To him hementioned his wish for actual service, but hinted that the maternalfondness of Lady Margaret was averse to his seeking it. This was true, andGeorge now pressed his uncle to assist him in effecting an exchange. 

The boroughs of the Duke of Derwent were represented by loyal members ofparliament, his two brothers being contemporary with Mr. Benfield in thathonor; and a request from a man who sent six members to the Commons, besides having a seat in the Lords in his own person, must be listened to. 

Within the week George ceased to be a captain in the guards, and becamelieutenant-colonel of a regiment under orders for America. 

Sir Frederick soon became sensible of the error his warmth had led himinto, and endeavored, by soothing and indulgence, to gain the ground hehad so unguardedly lost. But terrible was his anger, and bitter hisdenunciations, when his son acquainted him with his approachingembarkation with his new regiment for America. They quarrelled; and as thefavorite child had never, until now, been thwarted or spoken harshly to, they parted in mutual disgust. With his mother George was more tender; andas Lady Margaret never thought the match such as the descendant of twolines of dukes was entitled to form, she almost pardoned the offence inthe cause. 

"What's this here?" cried Sir Peter Howell, as he ran over a morning paperat the breakfast table: "Captain Denbigh, late of the guards, has beenpromoted to the Lieutenant-Colonelcy of the ---- Foot, and sails to-morrowto join that regiment, now on its way to America. "

"It's a lie, Bell!--it's all a lie! not but what he ought to be there, too, serving his king and country; but he never would serve you so. "

"Me?" said Isabel, with a heart throbbing with the contending feelings ofadmiration for George's generosity, and delight at her own deliverance. "What have I to do with the movements of Mr. Denbigh?"

"What!" cried her father in astonishment; "a'n't you to be his wife, a'n't it all agreed upon--that is, between Sir Frederick and me, which isthe same thing, you know--"

Here he was interrupted by the sudden appearance of the general himself, who had just learnt the departure of his son and hastened, with the doublepurpose of breaking the intelligence to his friend, and of making his ownpeace. 

"See here, Denbigh, " exclaimed the admiral, pointing to the paragraph, "what do you say to that?"

"Too true--too true, my dear friend, " replied the general shaking his headmournfully. 

"Hark ye, Sir Frederick Denbigh, " cried the admiral fiercely; "did you notsay that your son George was to marry my daughter?"

"I certainly did, Sir Peter, and am sorry to say that, in defiance of myentreaties and commands, he has deserted his' home, and, in consequence, Ihave discarded him for ever. "

"Now, Denbigh, " said the admiral, a good deal mollified by thisdeclaration, "have I not always told you, that in the army you knownothing of discipline? Why, sir, if he was a son of mine, he should marryblindfolded, if I chose to order it. I wish, now, Bell had an offer, anddared to refuse it. "

"There is the barber's clerk, you know, " said the general, a good dealirritated by the contemptuous manner of his friend. 

"And what of that, Sir Frederick?" said the sailor sternly; "if I chooseher to marry a quill-driver, she shall comply. "

"Ah! my good friend, " said the general, willing to drop the disagreeablesubject, "I am afraid we shall both find it more difficult to control theaffections of our children than we at first imagined. "

"You do, General Denbigh?" said the admiral, with a curl of contempt onhis lip; and ringing the bell violently, he bid the servant send his younglady to him. 

On the appearance of Isabel, her father inquired with an air of settledmeaning where young Mr. Ives resided. It was only in the next street, anda messenger was sent to him, with Sir Peter Howell's compliments, and arequest to see him without a moment's delay. 

"We'll see, we'll see, my old friend, who keeps the best discipline, "muttered the admiral, as he paced up and down the room, in eagerexpectation of the return of his messenger. 

The wondering general gazed on his friend, to ascertain if he was out ofhis senses. He knew he was quick to decide, and excessively obstinate, buthe did not think him so crazy as to throw away his daughter in a fit ofspleen. It never occurred to Sir Frederick, however, that the engagementwith himself was an act of equal injustice and folly, because it was donewith more form and deliberation, which, to the eye of sober reason, wouldrather make the matter worse. Isabel sat in trembling suspense for theissue of the scene, and Ives in a few minutes made his appearance in nolittle alarm. 

On entering, the admiral addressed him abruptly, by inquiring if he stillwished to marry that girl, pointing to his daughter. The reply was aneager affirmative. Sir Peter beckoned to Isabel, who approached, coveredwith blushes; and her father having placed her hand in that of her lover, with an air of great solemnity he gave them his blessing. The young peoplewithdrew to another room at Sir Peter's request, when he turned to hisfriend, delighted with his own decision and authority, and exclaimed, "There, Fred. Denbigh, that is what I call being minded. "

The general had penetration enough to see that the result was agreeableto both the young people, a thing he had long apprehended; and being gladto get rid of the affair in any way that did not involve him in a quarrelwith his old comrade, he gravely congratulated the admiral on his goodfortune and retired. 

"Yes, yes, " said Sir Peter to himself, as he paced up and down his room, "Denbigh is mortified enough, with his joy, and felicity, andgrand-children. I never had any opinion of their manner of discipline atall; too much bowing and scraping. I'm sorry, though, he is a priest; notbut what a priest may be as good a man as another, but let him behave everso well, he can only get to be a bishop at the most. Heaven forbid heshould ever get to be a Pope! After all, his boys may be admirals if theybehave themselves;" and he went to seek his daughter, having inimagination manned her nursery with vice and rear admirals in embryo bythe half dozen. 

Sir Peter Howell survived the marriage of his daughter but eighteenmonths; yet that was sufficient time to become attached to his invaluableson-in-law. Mr. Ives insensibly led the admiral, during his longindisposition, to a more correct view of sacred things, than he had beenwont to entertain; and the old man breathed his last, blessing both hischildren for their kindness, and with an humble hope of future happiness. Some time before his death, Isabel, whose conscience had always reproachedher with the deception practised on her father, and with the banishment ofGeorge from his country and home, threw herself at the feet of Sir Peterand acknowledged her transgression. 

The admiral heard her in astonishment, but not in anger. His opinions oflife had sensibly changed, and his great cause of satisfaction with hisnew son removed all motives for regret for anything but for the fate ofpoor George. With the noble forbearance and tenderness of the young man tohis daughter, the hardy veteran was sensibly touched; and his entreatieswith Sir Frederick made his peace with a father already longing for thereturn of his only hope. 

The admiral left Colonel Denbigh his blessing, and his favorite pistols, as a remembrance of his esteem; but he did not live to see the reunionwith his family. 

George had soon learnt, deprived of hope and in the midst of novelty, toforget a passion which could no longer be prosperous; and two years fromhis departure returned to England, glowing in health, and improved inperson and manners by a more extensive knowledge of the world and mankind. 

Chapter XLIV. 

During the time occupied by the foregoing events, Francis continued agloomy inmate of his uncle's house. The duke and his brother George weretoo indolent and inactive in their minds to pierce the cloud thatmortification and deadened affections had drawn around the real characterof their nephew; and although he was tolerated as the heir, he was butlittle loved as a man. 

In losing his brother, Francis lost the only human being with whom hepossessed any sympathies in common; and he daily drew more and more intohimself, in gloomy meditation on his forlorn situation, in the midst ofwealth and expected honors. The attentions he received were paid to hisrank, and Francis had penetration enough to perceive it. His visits to hisparents were visits of ceremony, and in time all parties came to look totheir termination with pleasure, as to the discontinuance of heartless andforced civilities. 

Affection, even in the young man, could not endure, repulsed as hisfeelings were, for ever; and in the course of three years, if hisattachments were not alienated from his parents, his ardor had become muchabated. 

It is a dreadful truth, that the bonds of natural affection can be brokenby injustice and contumely; and it is yet more to be deplored, that whenfrom such causes we loosen the ties habit and education have drawn aroundus, a reaction in our feelings commences; we seldom cease to love, but webegin to hate. Against such awful consequences it is one of the mostsolemn duties of the parent to provide in season; and what surersafeguard is there, than to inculcate those feelings which teach the mindto love God, and in so doing induce love to the whole human family?

Sir Frederick and Lady Margaret attended the church regularly, repeatedthe responses with much decency, toasted the church next to the king, evenappeared at the altars of their God, and continued sinners. From suchsowings, no good fruit could be expected to flourish: yet Francis was notwithout his hours of devotion; but his religion was, like himself, reserved, superstitious, ascetic, and gloomy. He never entered into socialworship: if he prayed it was with an ill-concealed wish to end this lifeof care. If he returned thanks, it was with a bitterness that mocked thethrone before which he was prostrate. Such pictures are revolting; buttheir originals have and do exist; for what enormity is there of whichhuman frailty, unchecked by divine assistance, may not be guilty?

Francis received an invitation to visit a brother of his mother's at hisseat in the country, about the time of the expected return of George fromAmerica; and in compliance with the wishes of his uncles he accepted it. The house was thronged with visitors, and many of them were ladies. Tothese, the arrival of the unmarried heir of the house of Derwent was asubject of no little interest. His character had, however, preceded him, and a few days of his awkward and, as they conceived, sullen deportment, drove them back to their former beaux, with the exception of one; and shewas not only amongst the fairest of the throng, but decidedly of thehighest pretensions on the score of birth and fortune. 

Marian Lumley was the only surviving child of the last Duke of Annerdale, with whom had expired the higher honors of his house. But the Earldom ofPendennyss, with numerous ancient baronies, were titles in fee; andtogether with his princely estates had descended to his daughter asheir-general of the family. A peeress in her own right, with an income farexceeding her utmost means of expenditure, the lovely Countess ofPendennyss was a prize aimed at by all the young nobles of the empire. 

Educated in the midst of flatterers and dependants she had become haughty, vain, and supercilious; still she was lovely, and no one knew better howto practise the most winning arts of her sex, when whim or interestprompted her to the trial. 

Her host was her guardian and relative; and through his agency she hadrejected, at the age of twenty, numerous suitors for her hand. Her eyeswere fixed on the ducal coronet; and unfortunately for Francis Denbigh, hewas, at the time, the only man of the proper age who could elevate her tothat enviable distinction in the kingdom; and an indirect measure of herown had been the means of his invitation to the country. 

Like the rest of her young companions, Marian was greatly disappointed onthe view of her intended captive, and for a day or two she abandoned himto his melancholy and himself. But ambition was her idol; and to itspowerful rival, love, she was yet a stranger. After a few struggles withher inclinations the consideration that their united fortunes and familyalliances would make one of the wealthiest and most powerful houses in thekingdom, prevailed. Such early sacrifices of the inclinations in a womanof her beauty, youth and accomplishments, may excite surprise; but wherethe mind is left uncultivated by the hand of care, the soul untouched bythe love of goodness, the human heart seldom fails to set up an idol ofits own to worship. In the Countess of Pendennyss this idol was pride. 

The remainder of the ladies, from ceasing to wonder at the manners ofFrancis, had made them the subject of their mirth; and nettled at hisapparent indifference to their society, which they erroneously attributedto his sense of his importance, they overstepped the bounds ofgood-breeding in manifesting their displeasure. 

"Mr. Denbigh, " cried one of the most thoughtless and pretty of the gaytribe to him one day, as Francis sat in a corner abstracted from the scenearound him, "when do you mean to favor the world with your brilliant ideasin the shape of a book?"

"Oh! no doubt soon, " said a second; "and I expect they will be homilies, or another volume to the Whole Duty of Man. "

"Rather, " cried a third, with bitter irony, "another canto to the Rape ofthe Lock, his ideas are so vivid and full of imagery. "

"Or, what do you think, " said a fourth, speaking in a voice of harmony, and tones of the most soothing tenderness, "of pity and compassion, forthe follies of those inferior minds, who cannot enjoy the reflections of agood sense and modesty peculiarly his own?"

This might also be irony; and Francis thought it so; but the tones were sosoft and conciliating, that with a face pale with his emotions, heventured to look up and met the eye of Marian, fixed on him in anexpression that changed his death-like hue into the color of vermillion. 

He thought of this speech; he reasoned on it; he dreamt on it. But for thelooks which accompanied it, like the rest of the party, he would havethought it the cruellest cut of them all. But that look, those eyes, thatvoice, what a commentary on her language did they not afford!

Francis was not long in suspense; the next morning an excursion wasproposed, which included all but himself in its arrangements. He waseither too reserved or too proud to offer services which were notrequired. 

Several gentlemen had contended for the honor of driving the countess in abeautiful phaeton of her own. They grew earnest in their claims: one hadbeen promised by its mistress with an opportunity of trying the ease ofthe carriage; another was delighted with the excellent training of herhorses; in short, all had some particular claim to the distinction, whichwas urged with a warmth and pertinacity proportionate to the value of theprize to be obtained. Marian heard the several claimants with an ease andindifference natural to her situation, and ended the dispute by saying--

"Gentlemen, as I have made so many promises from the dread of givingoffence, I must throw myself on the mercy of Mr. Denbigh, who alone, withthe best claims, does not urge them; to you then, " continued she, approaching him with the whip which was to be given the victor, "I adjudgethe prize, if you will condescend to accept it. "

This was uttered with one of her most attractive smiles, and Francisreceived the whip with an emotion that he with difficulty could control. 

The gentlemen were glad to have the contest decided by adjudging the prizeto one so little dangerous, and the ladies sneered at her choice as theyleft the house. 

There was something so soothing in the manners of Lady Pendennyss, shelistened to the little he said with such a respectful attention, was soanxious to have him give his opinions, that the unction of flattery, thussweetly applied, and for the first time, could not fail of its wontedeffects. 

The communications thus commenced were continued. It was so easy to beattentive, by being simply polite to one unused to notice of any kind, that Marian found the fate of the young man in her hands almost as soonas she attempted to control it. 

A new existence opened upon Francis, as day after day she insensibly ledhim to a display of powers he was unconscious until now of possessinghimself. His self-respect began to increase, his limited pleasures tomultiply, and he could now look around him with a sense of participationin the delights of life, as he perceived himself of consequence to thismuch admired woman. 

Trifling incidents, managed on her part with consummate art, had led himto the daring inference that he was not entirely indifferent to her; andFrancis returned the incipient affection of his mistress with a feelingbut little removed from adoration. Week flew by after week, and still helingered at the residence of his kinsman, unable to tear himself from thesociety of one so worshipped, and yet afraid to take a step by making adistinct declaration which might involve him in disgrace or ridicule. 

The condescension of the countess increased, and she had indirectly givenhim the most flattering assurances of his success, when George, justarrived from America, having first paid his greetings to his reconciledparents, and the happy couple of his generosity, flew to the arms of hisbrother in Suffolk. 

Francis was overjoyed to see George, and George delighted in the visibleimprovement of his brother. Still Francis was far, very far behind hisjunior in graces of mind and body; indeed, few men in England were moreadapted by nature and education for female society than was ColonelDenbigh at the period of which we write. 

Marian witnessed all his attractions, and deeply felt their influence; forthe first time she felt the emotions of the gentle passion; and afterhaving sported in the gay world, and trifled with the feelings of othersfor years, the countess in her turn became an unwilling victim to itspower. George met her flame with a corresponding ardor, and the strugglebetween ambition and love became severe; the brothers unconsciously wererivals. 

Had George for a moment suspected the situation of the feelings ofFrancis, his very superiority in the contest would have induced him toretreat from the unnatural rivalry. Had the elder dreamt of the views ofhis junior, he would have abandoned his dearest hopes in utter despair. Francis had so long been accustomed to consider George as his superior ineverything, that a competition with him would have appeared desperate. Marian contrived to keep both in hopes, undecided herself which to choose, and perhaps ready to yield to the first applicant. A sudden event, however, removed all doubts, and decided the fate of the three. 

The Duke of Derwent and his bachelor brother became so dissatisfied withthe character of their future heir, that they as coolly set aboutproviding themselves with wives as they had performed any other ordinarytransaction of life, They married cousins, and on the same day the choiceof the ladies was assigned between them by lots; and if his grace got theprettier, his brother certainly got the richest; under the circumstances avery tolerable distribution of fortune's favors. 

These double marriages dissolved the charm of Francis, and Lady Pendennyssdetermined to consult her wishes; a little pointed encouragement broughtout the declaration of George, and he was accepted. 

Francis, who had never communicated his feelings to any one but the lady, and that only indirectly, was crushed by the blow. He continued in publicuntil the day of their union; was present, composed and silent; but itwas the silence of a mountain whose volcanic contents had not reached thesurface. The same day he disappeared, and every inquiry after him provedfruitless; search was baffled, and for seven years it was not known whathad become of the general's eldest son. 

George on marrying resigned his commission, at the earnest entreaties ofhis wife, and retired to one of her seats, to the enjoyment of ease anddomestic love. The countess was enthusiastically attached to him; and asmotives for the indulgence of coquetry were wanting, her character becamegradually improved by the contemplation of the excellent qualities of hergenerous husband. 

A lurking suspicion of the cause of Francis's sudden disappearancerendered her uneasy at times; but Marian was too much beloved, too happy, in the enjoyment of too many honors, and of too great wealth, to be opento the convictions of conscience. It is in our hours of pain and privationthat we begin to feel its sting: if we are prosperous, we fancy we reapthe fruits of our own merit; but if we are unfortunate, the voice of truthseldom fails to remind us that we are deserving of our fate:--a blessedprovision of Providence that often makes the saddest hours of our earthlycareer the morn of a day that is to endure for ever. 

General Denbigh and Lady Margaret both died within five years of themarriage of their favorite child, although both lived to see theirdescendant, in the person of the infant Lord Lumley. 

The duke and his brother George were each blessed with offspring, and inthese several descendants of the different branches of the family ofDenbigh may be seen the different personages of our history. On the birthof her youngest child, the Lady Marian, the Countess of Pendennysssustained a shock in her health from which she never wholly recovered: shebecame nervous, and lost most of her energy both of mind and body. Herhusband was her solace; his tenderness remaining unextinguished, while hisattentions increased. 

As the fortune of Ives and Isabel put the necessity of a living out of thequestion, and no cure offering for the acceptance of the first, he washappy to avail himself of an offer to become domestic chaplain to his nowintimate friend, Mr. Denbigh. For the first six years they were inmates ofPendennyss Castle. The rector of the parish was infirm, and averse to aregular assistant; but the unobtrusive services of Mr. Ives were not lesswelcome to the pastor than to his parishioners. 

Employed in the duties which of right fell to the incumbent, and intrustedwith the spiritual guardianship of the dependants of the castle, our youngclergyman had ample occupation for all his time, if not a sufficienttheatre for his usefulness. Isabel and himself remained the year round inWales, and the first dawnings of education received by Lord Lumley werethose he acquired conjointly with Francis from the care of the latter'sfather. They formed, with the interval of the time spent by Mr. Denbighand Lady Pendennyss in town in winter, but one family. To the gentleman, the attachment of the grateful Ives was as strong as it was lasting. Mrs. Ives never ceased to consider him as a self-devoted victim to herhappiness; and although a far more brilliant lot had awaited him by thechange, yet her own husband could not think it a more happy one. 

The birth of Lady Marian had already, in its consequences, begun, to throwa gloom round the domestic comforts of Denbigh, when he was to sustainanother misfortune in a separation from his friends. 

Mr. , now Dr. Ives, had early announced his firm intention, whenever anopportunity was afforded him, to enter into the fullest functions of hisministry, as a matter of duty. Such an opportunity now offered at B----, and the doctor became its rector about the period Sir Edward becamepossessor of his paternal estate. 

Denbigh tried every inducement within his power to keep the doctor in hisown society. If as many thousands as his living would give him hundredscould effect it, they would have been at his service; but Denbighunderstood the character of the divine too well to offer such aninducement: he however urged the claims of friendship to the utmost, butwithout success. The doctor acknowledged the hold both himself and familyhad gained upon his affections, but he added--

"Consider, my dear Mr. Denbigh, what we would have thought of one of theearlier followers of our Saviour, who from motives of convenience orworldly-mindedness could have deserted his sacred calling. Although thechanges in the times may have rendered the modes of conducting themdifferent, necessarily the duties remain the same. The minister of ourholy religion who has once submitted to the call of his divine Master, must allow nothing but ungovernable necessity to turn him from the path hehas entered on; and should he so far forget himself, I greatly fear hewould plead, when too late to remedy the evil, his worldly duties, hiscares, or even his misfortunes, in vain. Solemn and arduous are hisobligations to labor, but when faithfully he has discharged these duties, oh! how glorious must be his reward. "

Before such opinions every barrier must fall, and the doctor entered intothe cure of his parish without further opposition, though not withoutunceasing regret on the part of his friend. Their intercourse was, however, maintained by letter, and they also frequently met at LumleyCastle, a seat of the countess's, within two days' ride of the doctor'sparish, until her increasing indisposition rendered journeying impossible;then, indeed, the doctor extended his rides into Wales, but with longerintervals between his visits, though with the happiest effects to theobjects of his journey. 

Mr. Denbigh, worn down with watching and blasted hopes, under thedirection of the spiritual watchfulness of the rector of B----, became anhumble, sincere, and pious Christian. 

Chapter XLV. 

It has been already mentioned, that the health of Lady Pendennyss suffereda severe shock, in giving birth to a daughter. Change of scene wasprescribed as a remedy for her disorder, and Denbigh and his wife were ontheir return from a fruitless excursion amongst the northern lakes, inpursuit of amusement and relief for the latter when they were compelled toseek shelter from the fury of a sudden gust in the first building thatoffered. It was a farm-house of the better sort; and the attendants, carriages, and appearance of their guests, caused no little confusion toits simple inmates. A fire was lighted in the best parlor, and everyeffort was made by the inhabitants to contribute to the comforts of thetravellers. 

The countess and her husband were sitting in that kind of listlessmelancholy which had been too much the companion of their later hours, when in the interval of the storm, a male voice in an adjoining roomcommenced singing the following ballad, the notes being low, monotonous, but unusually sweet, and the enunciation so distinct, as to rende everysyllable intelligible:

 Oh! I have lived in endless pain, And I have lived, alas! in vain, For none regard my woe-- No father's care conveyed the truth, No mother's fondness blessed my youth, Ah! joys too great to know--

 And Marian's love, and Marian's pride, Have crushed the heart that would have died. To save my Marian's tears-- A brother's hand has struck the blow Oh! may that brother never know Such madly sorrowing years!

 But hush my griefs--and hush my song, I've mourned in vain--I've mourned too long; When none have come to soothe-- And dark's the path, that lies before, And dark have been the days of yore, And all was dark in youth. 

The maids employed around the person of their comfortless mistress, thevalet of Denbigh engaged in arranging a dry coat for his master--allsuspended their employments to listen in breathless silence to themournful melody of the song. 

But Denbigh himself had started from his seat at the first notes, and hecontinued until the voice ceased, gazing in vacant horror in the directionof the sounds. A door opened from the parlor to the room of the musician;he rushed through it, and there, in a kind of shed to the building, whichhardly sheltered him from the fury of the tempest, clad in the garments ofthe extremest poverty, with an eye roving in madness, and a body rockingto and fro from mental inquietude, he beheld seated on a stone the remainsof his long lost brother, Francis. 

The language of the song was too plain to be misunderstood. The truthglared around George with a violence that dazzled his brain; but he saw itall, he felt it all, and rushing to the feet of his brother, he exclaimedin horror, pressing his hands between his own, --

"Francis--my own brother--do you not know me?"

The maniac regarded him with a vacant gaze, but the voice and the personrecalled the compositions of his more reasonable moments to hisrecollection; pushing back the hair of George, so as to expose his fineforehead to view, he contemplated him for a few moments, and thencontinued to sing, in a voice still rendered sweeter than before by hisfaint impressions:

 His raven locks, that richly curled, His eye, that proud defiance hurled. Have stol'n my Marian's love! Had I been blest by nature's grace, With such a form, with such a face, Could I so treacherous prove?

 And what is man--and what is care-- That he should let such passions tear The bases of the soul! Oh! you should do, as I have done-- And having pleasure's summit won, Each bursting sob control!

On ending the last stanza, the maniac released his brother, and broke intothe wildest laugh of madness. 

"Francis!--Oh! Francis, my brother, " cried George, in bitterness. Apiercing shriek drew his eye to the door he had passed through--on itsthreshold lay the senseless body of his wife. The distracted husbandforgot everything in the situation of his Marian, and raising her in hisarms, he exclaimed, --

"Marian--my Marian, revive--look up--know me. "

Francis had followed him, and now stood by his side, gazing intently onthe lifeless body; his looks became more soft--his eye glanced lesswildly--he too cried, --

"Marian--_My_ Marian. "

There was a mighty effort; nature could endure no more, he broke ablood-vessel and fell at the feet of George. They flew to his assistance, giving the countess to her women; but he was dead. 

For seventeen years Lady Pendennyss survived this shock: but havingreached her own abode, during that long period she never left her room. 

In the confidence of his surviving hopes, Doctor Ives and his wife weremade acquainted with the real cause of the grief of their friend, but thetruth went no further. Denbigh was the guardian of his three youngcousins, the duke, his sister, and young George Denbigh; these, with hisson, Lord Lumley, and daughter, Lady Marian, were removed from themelancholy of the Castle to scenes better adapted to their openingprospects in life. Yet Lumley was fond of the society of his father, andfinding him a youth endowed beyond his years, the care of his parent wasearly turned to the most important of his duties in that sacred office;and when he yielded to his wishes to go into the army, he knew he went ayouth of sixteen, possessed of principles and self-denial that wouldbecome a man of five-and-twenty. 

General Wilson completed the work which the father had begun; and LordLumley formed a singular exception to the character of most of hiscompanions. 

At the close of the Spanish war, he returned home, and was just in time toreceive the parting breath of his mother. 

A few days before her death, the countess requested that her childrenmight be made acquainted with her history and misconduct; and she placedin the hands of her son a letter; with directions for him to open it afterher decease. It was addressed to both children, and after recapitulatinggenerally the principal events of her life, continued:

"Thus, my children, you perceive the consequences of indulgence andhardness of heart, which made me insensible to the sufferings of others, and regardless of the plainest dictates of justice. Self was my idol. Thelove of admiration, which was natural to me, was increased by theflatterers who surrounded me; and had the customs of our country sufferedroyalty to descend in their unions to a grade in life below their own, your uncle would have escaped the fangs of my baneful coquetry. 

"Oh! Marian, my child, never descend so low as to practise those artswhich have degraded your unhappy mother. I would impress on you, as amemorial of my parting affection, these simple truths--that coquetrystands next to the want of chastity in the scale of female vices; it is infact a kind of mental prostitution; it is ruinous to all that delicacy offeeling which gives added lustre to female charms; it is almostdestructive to modesty itself. A woman who has been addicted to itspractice, may strive long and in vain to regain that singleness of heart, which can bind her up so closely in her husband and children as to makeher a good wife or a mother; and if it should have degenerated into habit, it may lead to the awful result of infidelity to her marriage vows. 

"It is vain for a coquette to pretend to religion; its practice involveshypocrisy, falsehood, and deception--everything that is mean--everythingthat is debasing. In short, as it is bottomed on selfishness and pride, where it has once possessed the mind, it will only yield to thetruth-displaying banners of the cross. This, and this only, can remove theevil; for without it she, whom the charms of youth and beauty have enabledto act the coquette, will descend into the vale of life, altered, it istrue, but not amended. She will find the world, with its allurements, clinging around her parting years, in vain regrets for days that areflown, and in mercenary views for her descendants. Heaven bless you, mychildren, console and esteem your inestimable father while he yet remainswith you; and place your reliance on that Heavenly Parent who will neverdesert those who seek him in sincerity and love. Your dying mother, "M. PENDENNYSS. "

This letter, evidently written under the excitement of deep remorse, madea great impression on both her children. In Lady Marian it was pity, regret, and abhorrence of the fault which had been the principal cause ofthe wreck of her mother's peace of mind; but in her brother, now Earl ofPendennyss, these feelings were united with a jealous dread of his ownprobable lot in the chances of matrimony. 

His uncle had been the supposed heir to a more elevated title than hisown, but he was now the actual possessor of as honorable a name, and ofmuch larger revenues. The great wealth of his maternal grandfather, andthe considerable estate of his own father, were, or would soon be, centredin himself; and if a woman as amiable, as faultless, as affection hadtaught him to believe his mother to be, could yield in her situation tothe lure of worldly honors, had he not great reason to dread, that a handmight be bestowed at some day upon himself, when the heart would point outsome other destination, if the real wishes of its owner were consulted?

Pendennyss was modest by nature, and humble from principle, though by nomeans distrustful; yet the shock of discovering his mother's fault, thegloom occasioned by her death and his father's declining health, sometimesled him into a train of reflections which, at others, he would havefervently deprecated. 

A short time after the decease of the countess, Mr. Denbigh, finding hisconstitution fast giving way, under the wasting of a decline he had beenin for a year, resolved to finish his days in the abode of his Christianfriend, Doctor Ives. For several years they had not met; increasing dutiesand infirmities on both sides having interrupted their visits. 

By easy stages he left the residence of his son in Wales, and accompaniedby both his children he reached Lumley Castle much exhausted; here he tooka solemn and final leave of Marian, unwilling that she should so soonwitness again the death of another parent, and dismissing the earl's. Equipage and attendants a short day's ride from B----, they proceededalone to the rectory. 

A letter had been forwarded acquainting the doctor of his approachingvisit, wishing it to be perfectly private, but not alluding to its object, and naming a day, a week later than the one on which he arrived. This planwas altered on perceiving the torch of life more rapidly approaching thesocket than he had at first supposed. His unexpected appearance andreception are known. Denbigh's death and the departure of his sonfollowed; Francis having been Pendennyss's companion to the tomb of hisancestors in Westmoreland. 

The earl had a shrinking delicacy, under the knowledge of his familyhistory, that made him anxious to draw all eyes from the contemplation ofhis mother's conduct; how far the knowledge of it had extended in societyhe could not know, but he wished it buried with her in the tomb. Thepeculiar manner of his father's death would attract notice, and mightrecall attention to the prime cause of his disorder; as yet all wasveiled, and he wished the doctor's family to let it remain so. It was, however, impossible that the death of a man of Mr. Denbigh's rank shouldbe unnoticed in the prints, and the care of Francis dictated the simpletruth without comments, as it appeared. As regarded the Moseleys, what wasmore natural than that the son of _Mr. Denbigh_ should also be _Mr. Denbigh?_

In the presence of the rector's family no allusions were made to theirfriends, and the villagers and the neighborhood spoke of them as old andyoung Mr. Denbigh. 

The name of Lord Lumley, now Earl of Pendennyss, was known to the wholeBritish nation; but the long retirement of his father and mother haddriven them almost from the recollection of their friends. Even Mrs. Wilson supposed her favorite hero a Lumley. Pendennyss Castle had been forcenturies the proud residence of that family; and the change of name inits possessor was forgotten with the circumstances that had led to it. 

When, therefore, Emily met the earl so unexpectedly the second time at therectory, she, of course, with all her companions, spoke of him as Mr. Denbigh. On that occasion, Pendennyss had called in person, in expectationof meeting his kinsman, Lord Bolton; but, finding him absent, he could notresist his desire to visit the rectory. Accordingly, he sent his carriageand servants on to London, leaving them at a convenient spot, and arrivedon foot at the house of Dr. Ives. From the same motives which hadinfluenced him before--a wish to indulge, undisturbed by useless ceremony, his melancholy reflections--he desired that his name might not bementioned. 

This was an easy task. Both Doctor and Mrs. Ives had called him, when achild, George or Lumley, and were unused to his new appellation ofPendennyss; indeed, it rather recalled painful recollections to them all. 

It may be remembered that circumstances removed the necessity of anyintroduction to Mrs. Wilson and her party; and the difficulty in thatinstance was happily got rid of. 

The earl had often heard Emily Moseley spoken of by his friends, and intheir letters they frequently mentioned her name as connected with theirpleasures and employments, and always with an affection Pendennyss thoughtexceeding that which they manifested for their son's wife; and Mrs Ives, the evening before, to remove unpleasant thoughts, had given him a livelydescription of her person and character. The earl's curiosity had been alittle excited to see this paragon of female beauty and virtue; and, unlike most curiosity on such subjects, he was agreeably disappointed bythe examination. He wished to know more, and made interest with the doctorto assist him to continue the incognito with which accident had favoredhim. 

The doctor objected on the ground of principle, and the earl desisted; butthe beauty of Emily, aided by her character, had made an impression not tobe easily shaken off, and Pendennyss returned to the charge. 

His former jealousies were awakened in proportion to his admiration; and, after some time, he threw himself on the mercy of the divine, by declaringhis new motive, but without mentioning his parents. The doctor pitied him, for he scanned his feelings thoroughly, and consented to keep silent, butlaughingly declared it was bad enough for a divine to be accessory to, much less aiding in a deception; and that he knew if Emily and Mrs. Wilsonlearnt his imposition, he would lose ground in their favor by thediscovery. 

"Surely, George, " said the doctor with a laugh, "you don't mean to marrythe young lady as Mr. Denbigh?"

"Oh, no! it is too soon to think of marrying her at all, " replied the earlwith a smile; "but, somehow, I should like to see what my reception in theworld will be as plain Mr. Denbigh, unprovided for and unknown. "

"No doubt, my lord, " said the rector archly, "in proportion to yourmerits, very unfavorably indeed; but then your humility will be finallyelevated by the occasional praises I have heard Mrs. Wilson lavish on yourproper character of late. "

"I am much indebted to her partiality, " continued the earl mournfully;then throwing off his gloomy thoughts he added, "I wonder, my dear doctor, your goodness did not set her right in the latter particular. "

"Why, she has hardly given me an opportunity; delicacy and my own feelingshave kept me very silent on the subject of your family to any of thatconnexion. They think, I believe, I was a rector in Wales, instead of yourfather's chaplain; and somehow, " continued the doctor, smiling on hiswife, "the association with your late parents was so connected in my mindwith my most romantic feelings, that although I have delighted in it, Ihave seldom alluded to it in conversation at all. Mrs. Wilson has spokenof you but twice in my hearing, and that since she has expected to meetyou; your name has doubtless recalled the remembrance of her husband. "

"I have many, many reasons to remember the general with gratitude, " criedthe earl with fervor; "but doctor, do not forget my incognito: only callme George; I ask no more. "

The plan of Pendennyss was put in execution. Day after day he lingered inNorthamptonshire, until his principles and character had grown upon theesteem of the Moseleys in the manner we have mentioned. 

His frequent embarrassments were from the dread and shame of a detection. With Sir Herbert Nicholson he had a narrow escape, and Mrs. Fitzgerald andLord Henry Stapleton he of course avoided; for having gone so far, he wasdetermined to persevere to the end. Egerton he thought knew him, and hedisliked his character and manners. 

When Chatterton appeared most attentive to Emily, the candor and goodopinion of that young nobleman made the earl acquainted with his wishesand his situation. Pendennyss was too generous not to meet his rival onfair grounds. His cousin and the duke were requested to use their unitedinfluence secretly to obtain the desired station for the baron. The resultis known, and Pendennyss trusted his secret to Chatterton; he took him toLondon, gave him in charge to Derwent, and returned to prosecute his ownsuit. His note from Bolton Castle was a _ruse_ to conceal his character, as he knew the departure of the baronet's family to an hour, and had sotimed his visit to the earl as not to come in collision with the Moseleys. 

"Indeed, my lord, " cried the doctor to him one day, "your scheme goes onswimmingly, and I am only afraid when your mistress discovers theimposition, you will find your rank producing a different effect from whatyou have apprehended. "

Chapter XLVI. 

But Dr. Ives was mistaken. Had he seen the sparkling eyes and glowingcheeks of Miss Moseley, the smile of satisfaction and happiness whichplayed on the usually thoughtful face of Mrs. Wilson, when the earl handedthem into his own carriage, as they left his house on the evening of thediscovery, the doctor would have gladly acknowledged the failure of hisprognostics. In truth, there was no possible event that, under thecircumstances, could have given both aunt and niece such heartfeltpleasure, as the knowledge that Denbigh and the earl were the same person. 

Pendennyss stood holding the door of the carriage in his hand, irresolutehow to act, when Mrs. Wilson said--

"Surely, my lord, you sup with us. "

"A thousand thanks, my dear madam, for the privilege, " cried the earl, ashe sprang into the coach; the door was closed, and they drove off. 

"After the explanations of this morning, my lord, " said Mrs. Wilson, willing to remove all doubts between him and Emily, and perhaps anxious tosatisfy her own curiosity, "it will be fastidious to conceal our desire toknow more of your movements. How came your pocket-book in the possessionof Mrs. Fitzgerald?"

"Mrs. Fitzgerald!" cried Pendennyss, in astonishment "I lost the book inone of the rooms of the Lodge, and supposed it had fallen into your hands, and betrayed my disguise by Emily's rejection of me, and your own alteredeye. Was I mistaken then in both?"

Mrs. Wilson now, for the first time, explained their real grounds forrefusing his offers, which, in the morning, she had loosely mentioned asowing to a misapprehension of his just character, and recounted the mannerof the book falling into the hands of Mrs. Fitzgerald. 

The earl listened in amazement, and after musing with himself, exclaimed--

"I remember taking it from my pocket, to show Colonel Egerton somesingular plants I had gathered, and think I first missed it when returningto the place where I had then laid it; in some of the side-pockets wereletters from Marian, addressed to me, properly; and I naturally thoughtthey had met your eye. "

Mrs. Wilson and Emily immediately thought Egerton the real villain, whohad caused both themselves and Mrs. Fitzgerald so much uneasiness, and theformer mentioned her suspicions to the earl. 

"Nothing more probable, dear madam, " cried he, "and this explains to mehis startled looks when we first met, and his evident dislike to mysociety, for he must have seen my person, though the carriage hid _him_from my sight. "

That Egerton was the wretch, and that through his agency the pocket-bookhad been carried to the cottage, they all now agreed, and turned to morepleasant subjects. 

"Master!--here--master, " said Peter Johnson, as he stood at a window ofMr. Benfield's room, stirring a gruel for the old gentleman's supper, andstretching his neck and straining his eyes to distinguish objects by thelight of the lamps--"I do think there is Mr. Denbigh, handing Miss Emmyfrom a coach, covered with gold, and two footmen, all dizened with pridelike. "

The spoon fell from the hands of Mr. Benfield. He rose briskly from hisseat, and adjusting his dress, took the arm of the steward, and proceededto the drawing-room. While these several movements were in operation, which consumed some time, the old bachelor relieved the tedium of Peter'simpatience by the following speech:--

"Mr. Denbigh!--what, back?--I thought he never could let that rascal Johnshoot him and forsake Emmy after all; (here the old gentleman suddenlyrecollected Denbigh's marriage) but now, Peter, it can do no goodeither. --I remember, that when my friend the Earl of Gosford "--(and againhe was checked by the image of the card-table and the viscountess) "but, Peter, " he said with great warmth, "we can go down and see him, notwithstanding. "

"Mr. Denbigh!" exclaimed Sir Edward, in astonishment, when he saw thecompanion of his sister and child enter the drawing-room, "you are welcomeonce more to your old friends: your sudden retreat from us gave us muchpain; but we suppose Lady Laura had too many attractions to allow us tokeep you any longer in Norfolk. "

The good Baronet sighed, as he held out his hand to the man whom he hadonce hoped to receive as a son. 

"Neither Lady Laura nor any other lady, my dear Sir Edward, " cried theearl, as he took the baronet's hand, "drove me from you, but the frowns ofyour own fair daughter; and here she is, ready to acknowledge her offence, and, I hope, to atone for it. "

John, who knew of the refusal of his sister, and was not a littledispleased with the cavalier treatment he had received at Denbigh's hands, felt indignant at such improper levity in a married man, and approachedwith--

"Your servant, Mr. Denbigh--I hope my Lady Laura is well. "

Pendennyss understood his look, and replied very gravely--

"Your servant, Mr. John Moseley--my Lady Laura is, or certainly ought tobe, very well, as she has this moment gone to a rout, accompanied by herhusband. "

The quick eye of John glanced from the earl to his aunt, to Emily; alurking smile was on all their features. The heightened color of hissister, the flashing eyes of the young nobleman, the face of his aunt, alltold him that something uncommon was about to be explained; and, yieldingto his feelings, he caught the hand which Pendennyss extended to him, andcried, "Denbigh, I see--I feel--there is some unaccountable mistake--we are--"

"Brothers!" said the earl, emphatically. "Sir Edward--dear Lady Moseley, Ithrow myself on your mercy. I am an impostor: when your hospitalityreceived me into your house, it is true you admitted George Denbigh, buthe is better known as the Earl of Pendennyss. "

"The Earl of Pendennyss!" exclaimed Lady Moseley, in a glow of delight, asshe saw at once through some juvenile folly a deception which promisedboth happiness and rank to one of her children. "Is it possible, my dearCharlotte, that this is your unknown friend?"

"The very same, Anne, " replied the smiling widow, "and guilty of a follythat, at all events, removes the distance between us a little, by showingthat he is subject to the failings of mortality. But the masquerade isended, and I hope you and Edward will not only treat him as an earl, butreceive him as a son. "

"Most willingly--most willingly, " cried the baronet, with great energy;"be he prince, peer, or beggar, he is the preserver of my child, and assuch he is always welcome. "

The door now slowly opened, and the venerable bachelor appeared on itsthreshold. 

Pendennyss, who had never forgotten the good will manifested to him byMr. Benfield, met him with a look of pleasure, as he expressed hishappiness at seeing him again in London. 

"I never have forgotten your goodness in sending honest Peter such adistance from home, on the object of his visit. I now regret that afeeling of shame occasioned my answering your kindness so laconically:"turning to Mrs. Wilson, he added, "for a time I knew not how to write aletter even, being afraid to sign my proper appellation, and ashamed touse my adopted. "

"Mr. Denbigh, I am happy to see you. I did send Peter, it is true, toLondon, on a message to you--but it is all over now, " the old mansighed--"Peter, however, escaped the snares of this wicked place; and ifyou are happy, I am content. I remember when the Earl of--"

"Pendennyss!" exclaimed the other, "imposed on the hospitality of a worthyman, under an assumed appellation, in order to pry into the character of alovely female, who was only too good for him, and who now is willing toforget his follies, and make him not only the happiest of men, but thenephew of Mr. Benfield. "

During this speech, the countenance of Mr. Benfield had manifested evidentemotion: he looked from one to another, until he saw Mrs. Wilson smilingnear him. Pointing to the earl with his finger, he stood unable to speak, as she answered simply, --

"Lord Pendennyss. "

"And Emmy dear--will you--will you marry him?" cried Mr. Benfield, suppressing his feelings, to give utterance to his question. 

Emily felt for her uncle, and blushing deeply, with great frankness sheput her hand in that of the earl, who pressed it with rapture again andagain to his lips. 

Mr. Benfield sank into a chair, and with a heart softened by emotion, burst into, tears. 

"Peter, " he cried, struggling with his feelings, "I am now ready to departin peace--I shall see my darling Emmy happy, and to her care I shallcommit you. "

Emily, deeply affected with his love, threw herself into his arms, in atorrent of tears, and was removed from them by Pendennyss, inconsideration for the feelings of both. 

Jane felt no emotions of envy for her sister's happiness; on the contrary, she rejoiced in common with the rest of their friends in her brighteningprospects, and they all took their seats at the supper table, as happy agroup as was contained in the wide circle of the metropolis. A few moreparticulars served to explain the mystery sufficiently, until a morefitting opportunity made them acquainted with the whole of the earl'sproceedings. 

"My Lord Pendennyss, " said Sir Edward, pouring out a glass of wine, andpassing the bottle to his neighbor: "I drink your health--and happiness toyourself and my darling child. "

The toast was drunk by all the family, and the earl replied to thecompliments with his thanks and smiles, while Emily could only notice themwith her blushes and tears. 

But this was an opportunity not to be lost by the honest steward, who, from affection and long services, had been indulged in familiaritiesexceeding any other of his master's establishment. He very deliberatelyhelped himself to a glass of wine, and drawing near the seat of thebride-elect, with an humble reverence, commenced his speech as follows:

"My dear Miss Emmy:--Here's hoping you'll live to be a comfort to yourhonored father, and your honored mother, and my dear honored master, andyourself, and Madam Wilson. " The steward paused to clear his voice, andprofited by the delay to cast his eye round the table to collect thenames; "and Mr. John Moseley, and sweet Mrs. Moseley, and pretty MissJane" (Peter had lived too long in the world to compliment one handsomewoman in the presence of another, without the qualifying his speech alittle); "and Mr. Lord Denbigh--earl like, as they say he now is, and"--Peter stopped a moment to deliberate, and then making anotherreference, he put the glass to his lips; but before he had got halfthrough its contents, recollected himself, and replenishing it to thebrim, with a smile acknowledging his forgetfulness, continued, "and theRev. Mr. Francis Ives, and the Rev. Mrs. Francis Ives. "

Here the unrestrained laugh of John interrupted him; and considering withhimself that he had included the whole family, he finished his bumper. Whether it was pleasure at his own eloquence in venturing on so long aspeech, or the unusual allowance, that affected the steward, he wasevidently much satisfied with himself, and stepped back behind hismaster's chair, in great good humor. 

Emily, as she thanked him, noticed a tear in the eye of the old man, as heconcluded his oration, that would have excused a thousand breaches offastidious ceremony. But Pendennyss rose from his seat, and took himkindly by the hand, and returned his own thanks for his good wishes. 

"I owe you much good will, Mr. Johnson, for, your two journeys in mybehalf, and trust I never shall forget the manner in which you executedyour last mission in particular. We are friends, I trust, for life. "

"Thank you--thank your honor's lordship, " said the steward, almost unableto utter; "I hope you may live long, to make dear little Miss Emmy ashappy--as I know she ought to be. "

"But really, my lord, " cried John, observing that the steward's affectionfor his sister had affected her to tears, "it was a singular circumstance, the meeting of the four passengers of the stage so soon at your hotel. "

Moseley explained his meaning to the rest of the company. 

"Not so much so as you imagine, " said the earl in reply; "yourself andJohnson were in quest of me. Lord Henry Stapleton was under an engagementto meet me that evening at the hotel, as we were both going to hissister's wedding--I having arranged the thing with him by letterpreviously; and General M'Carthy was also in search of me, on businessrelating to his niece, the Donna Julia. He had been to Annerdale House, and, through my servants, heard I was at an hotel. It was the firstinterview between us, and not quite as amicable a one as has since beenhad in Wales. During my service in Spain, I saw the Conde, but not thegeneral. The letter he gave me was from the Spanish ambassador, claiming aright to require Mrs. Fitzgerald from our government, and deprecating myusing an influence to counteract his exertions"--

"Which you refused, " said Emily, eagerly. 

"Not refused, " answered the earl, smiling at her warmth, while he admiredher friendly zeal, "for it was unnecessary: there is no such power vestedin the ministry. But I explicitly told the general, I would oppose anyviolent measures to restore her to her country and a convent. From thecourts, I apprehended nothing for my fair friend. "

"Your honor--my lord, " said Peter, who had been listening with greatattention, "if I may presume just to ask two questions, without offence. "

"Say on, my good friend, " said Pendennyss, with an encouraging smile. 

"Only" continued the steward--hemming, to give proper utterance to histhoughts--"I wish to know, whether you stayed in that same street afteryou left the hotel--for Mr. John Moseley and I had a slight difference inopinion about it. "

The earl smiled, having caught the arch expression of John, and replied--

"I believe I owe you an apology, Moseley, for my cavalier treatment; butguilt makes us all cowards. I found you were ignorant of my incognito, andI was equally ashamed to continue it, or to become the relater of my ownfolly. Indeed, " he continued, smiling on Emily as he spoke, "I thoughtyour sister had pronounced the opinion of all reflecting people on myconduct. I went out of town, Johnson, at day-break. What is the otherquery?"

"Why, my lord, " said Peter, a little disappointed at finding his firstsurmise untrue, "that outlandish tongue your honor used--"

"Was Spanish, " cried the earl. 

"And not Greek, Peter, " said his master, gravely. "I thought, from thewords you endeavored to repeat to me, that you had made a mistake. Youneed not be disconcerted, however, for I know several members of theparliament of this realm who could not talk the Greek language, that is, fluently. So it can be no disgrace to a serving-man to be ignorant of it. "

Somewhat consoled to find himself as well off as the representatives ofhis country, Peter resumed his station in silence, when the carriagesbegan to announce the return from the opera. The earl took his leave, andthe party retired to rest. 

The thanksgivings of Emily that night, ere she laid her head on herpillow, were the purest offering of mortal innocence. The prospect beforeher was unsullied by a cloud and she poured out her heart in the fullestconfidence of pious love and heartfelt gratitude. 

As early on the succeeding morning as good-breeding would allow, and muchearlier than the hour sanctioned by fashion, the earl and Lady Marianstopped in the carriage of the latter at the door of Sir Edward Moseley. Their reception was the most flattering that could be offered to people oftheir stamp; sincere, cordial, and, with a trifling exception in LadyMoseley, unfettered with any useless ceremonies. 

Emily felt herself drawn to her new acquaintance with a fondness whichdoubtless grew out of her situation with her brother; which soon foundreasons enough in the soft, lady-like, and sincere manners of Lady Marian, to, justify her attachment on her own account. 

There was a very handsome suite of drawing-rooms in Sir Edward's house, and the communicating doors were carelessly open. Curiosity to view thefurniture, or some such trifling reasons, induced the earl to find his wayinto the one adjoining that in which the family were seated. It wasunquestionably a dread of being lost in a strange house, that induced himto whisper a request to the blushing Emily, to be his companion; andlastly, it must have been nothing but a knowledge that a vacant room waseasier viewed than one filled with company, that prevented any one fromfollowing them. John smiled archly at Grace, doubtless in approbation ofthe comfortable time his friend was likely to enjoy, in his musings on thetaste of their mother. How the door became shut, we have ever been at aloss to imagine. 

The company without were too good-natured and well satisfied with eachother to miss the absentees, until the figure of the earl appeared at thereopened door, beckoning, with a face of rapture, to Lady Moseley and Mrs. Wilson. Sir Edward next disappeared, then Jane, then Grace--then Marian;until John began to think a tête-à-tête with Mr. Benfield was to be hismorning's amusement. 

The lovely countenance of his wife, however, soon relieved his ennui, andJohn's curiosity was gratified by an order to prepare for his sister'swedding the following week. 

Emily might have blushed more than common during this interview, but it iscertain she did not smile less; and the earl, Lady Marian assured SirEdward, was so very different a creature from what he had recently been, that she could hardly think it was the same sombre gentleman with whom shehad passed the last few months in Wales and Westmoreland. 

A messenger was dispatched for Dr. Ives and their friends at B----, to bewitnesses to the approaching nuptials; and Lady Moseley at length found anopportunity of indulging her taste for splendor on this joyful occasion. 

Money was no consideration; and Mr. Benfield absolutely pined at thethought that the great wealth of the earl put it out of his power tocontribute in any manner to the comfort of his Emmy. However, a fifteenthcodicil was framed by the ingenuity of Peter and his master, and if it didnot contain the name of George Denbigh, it did that of his expected secondson, Roderick Benfield Denbigh, to the qualifying circumstance of twentythousand pounds, as a bribe for the name. 

"And a very pretty child, I dare say, it will be, " said the steward, as heplaced the paper in its repository. "I don't know that I ever saw, yourhonor, a couple that I thought would make a handsomer pair like, except--"Peter's mind dwelt on his own youthful form coupled with the smilinggraces of Patty Steele. 

"Yes! they are as handsome as they are good!" replied his master. "Iremember now, when our Speaker took his third wife, the world said thatthey were as pretty a couple as there was at court. But my Emma and theearl will be a much finer pair. Oh! Peter Johnson; they are young, andrich, and beloved; but, after all, it avails but little if they be notgood. "

"Good!" cried the steward in astonishment; "they are as good as angels. "

The master's ideas of human excellence had suffered a heavy blow in theview of his viscountess, but he answered mildly, "As good as mankind can well be. "

Chapter XLVII. 

The warm weather had now commenced; and Sir Edward, unwilling to be shutup in London at a time the appearance of vegetation gave the country a newinterest, and accustomed for many years of his life to devote an hour inhis garden each morn, had taken a little ready furnished cottage a shortride from his residence, with the intention of frequenting it until afterthe birthday. Thither then Pendennyss took his bride from the altar, and afew days were passed by the newly married pair in this little asylum. 

Doctor Ives, with Francis, Clara, and their mother, had obeyed the summonswith an alacrity in proportion to the joy they felt on receiving it, andthe former had the happiness of officiating on the occasion. It would havebeen easy for the wealth of the earl to procure a license to enable themto marry in the drawing-room; the permission was obtained, but neitherEmily nor himself felt a wish to utter their vows in any other spot thanat the altar, and in the house of their Maker. 

If there was a single heart that felt the least emotion of regret oruneasiness, it was Lady Moseley, who little relished the retirement of thecottage on so joyful an occasion; but Pendennyss silenced her objectionsby good-humoredly replying--

"The fates have been so kind to me, in giving me castles and seats, youought to allow me, my dear Lady Moseley, the only opportunity I shallprobably ever have of enjoying love in a cottage. "

A few days, however, removed the uneasiness of the good matron, who hadthe felicity within the week of seeing her daughter initiated mistress ofAnnerdale House. 

The morning of their return to this noble mansion the earl presentedhimself in St. James's Square, with the intelligence of their arrival, andsmiling as he bowed to Mrs. Wilson, he continued--

"And to escort you, dear madam, to your new abode. "

Mrs. Wilson started with surprise, and with a heart beating quick withemotion, she required an explanation of his words. 

"Surely, dearest Mrs. Wilson--more than aunt--my mother--you cannot mean, after having trained my Emily through infancy to maturity in the paths ofduty, to desert her in the moment of her greatest trial. I am the pupil ofyour husband, " he continued, taking her hands in his own with reverenceand affection; "we are the children of your joint care, and one home, asthere is but one heart, must in future contain us. "

Mrs. Wilson had wished for, but hardly dared to expect this invitation. Itwas now urged from the right quarter, and in a manner that was as sincereas it was gratifying. Unable to conceal her tears, the good widow pressedthe hand of Pendennyss to her lips as she murmured out her thanks. SirEdward was prepared also to lose his sister; but unwilling to relinquishthe pleasure of her society, he urged her making a common residencebetween the two families. 

"Pendennyss has spoken truth, my dear brother, " cried she, recovering hervoice; "Emily is the child of my care and my love--the two beings I lovebest in this world are now united--but, " she added, pressing Lady Moseleyto her bosom, "my heart is large enough for you all; you are of my blood, and my gratitude for your affection is boundless. There shall be but onelarge family of us; and although our duties may separate us for a time, wewill, I trust, ever meet in tenderness and love, though with George andEmily I will take up my abode. "

"I hope your house in Northamptonshire is not to be vacant always, " saidLady Moseley to the earl, anxiously. 

"I have no house there, my dear madam, " he replied; "when I thought myselfabout to succeed in my suit before, I directed a lawyer at Bath, where SirWilliam Harris resided most of his time, to endeavor to purchase thedeanery, whenever a good opportunity offered: in my discomfiture, " headded, smiling, "I forgot to countermand the order, and he purchased itimmediately on its being advertised. For a short time it was anincumbrance to me, but it is now applied to its original purpose. It isthe sole property of the Countess of Pendennyss, and I doubt not you willsee it often and agreeably tenanted. "

This intelligence gave great satisfaction to his friends, and the expectedsummer restored to even Jane a gleam of her former pleasure. 

If there be bliss in this life, approaching in any degree to the happinessof the blessed, it is the fruition of long and ardent love, where youth, innocence, piety, and family concord, smile upon the union. And all thesewere united in the case of the new-married pair; but happiness in thisworld cannot or does not, in any situation, exist without alloy. 

The peace of mind and fortitude of Emily were fated to receive a blow, asunlooked for to herself as it was unexpected to the world. Bonaparteappeared in France, and Europe became in motion. 

From the moment the earl heard the intelligence his own course wasdecided. His regiment was the pride of the army, and that it would beordered to join the duke he did not entertain a doubt. 

Emily was, therefore, in some little measure prepared for the blow. It isat such moments as our own acts, or events affecting us, get to be withoutour control, that faith in the justice and benevolence of God is the mostserviceable to the Christian. When others spend their time in uselessregrets he is piously resigned: it even so happens, that when others mournhe can rejoice. 

The sound of the bugle, wildly winding its notes, broke on the stillnessof the morning in the little village in which was situated the cottagetenanted by Sir Edward Moseley. Almost concealed by the shrubbery whichsurrounded its piazza, stood the forms of the Countess of Pendennyss andher sister Lady Marian, watching eagerly the appearance of those whoseapproach was thus announced. 

The carriage of the ladies, with its idle attendants, was in waiting at ashort distance; and the pale face but composed resignation of itsmistress, indicated a struggle between conflicting duties. 

File after file of heavy horse passed them in military pomp, and thewistful gaze of the two females had scanned them in vain for the wellknown, much-beloved countenance of the leader. At length a single horsemanapproached them, riding deliberately and musing: their forms met his eye, and in an instant Emily was pressed to the bosom of her husband. 

"It is the doom of a soldier, " said the earl, dashing a tear from his eye;"I had hoped that the peace of the world would not again be assailed foryears, and that ambition and jealousy would yield a respite to our bloodyprofession; but cheer up, my love--hope for the best--your trust is not inthe things of this life, and your happiness is without the power of man. "

"Ah! Pendennyss--my husband, " sobbed Emily, sinking on his bosom, "takewith you my prayers--my love--everything that can console you--everythingthat may profit you. I will not tell you to be careful of your life; yourduty teaches you that. As a soldier, expose it; as a husband guard it; andreturn to me as you leave me, a lover, the dearest of men, and aChristian. "

Unwilling to prolong the pain of parting, the earl gave his wife a lastembrace, held Marian affectionately to his bosom, and mounting his horse, was out of sight in an instant. 

Within a few days of the departure of Pendennyss, Chatterton was surprisedwith the entrance of his mother and Catharine. His reception of them wasthat of a respectful child, and his wife exerted herself to be kind toconnexions she could not love, in order to give pleasure to a husband sheadored. Their tale was soon told. Lord and Lady Herriefield wereseparated; and the dowager, alive to the dangers of a young woman inCatharine's situation, and without a single principle on which to rest theassurance of her blameless conduct in future, had brought her to England, in order to keep off disgrace, by residing with her child herself. 

There was nothing in his wife to answer the expectations with which LordHerriefield married. She had beauty, but with that he was already sated;her simplicity, which, by having her attention drawn elsewhere, had atfirst charmed him, was succeeded by the knowing conduct of a determinedfollower of the fashions, and a decided woman of the world. 

It had never struck the viscount as impossible that an artless andinnocent girl would fall in love with his faded and bilious face, but themoment Catharine betrayed the arts of a manager, he saw at once theartifice that had been practised; of course he ceased to love her. 

Men are flattered for a season with notice that has been unsought, but itnever fails to injure the woman who practises it in the opinion of theother sex, in time. Without a single feeling in common, without a regardto anything but self, in either husband or wife, it could not but happenthat a separation must follow, or their days be spent in wrangling andmisery. Catharine willingly left her husband; her husband more willinglygot rid of her. 

During all these movements the dowager had a difficult game to play. Itwas unbecoming her to encourage the strife, and it was against her wishesto suppress it; she therefore moralized with the peer, and frowned uponher daughter. 

The viscount listened to her truisms with the attention of a boy who istold by a drunken father how wicked it is to love liquor, and heeded themabout as much; while Kate, mistress at all events of two thousand a year, minded her mother's frowns as little as she regarded her smiles; both wereindifferent to her. 

A few days after the ladies left Lisbon, the viscount proceeded to Italyin company with the repudiated wife of a British naval officer; and ifKate was not guilty of an offence of equal magnitude, it was more owing toher mother's present vigilance than to her previous care. 

The presence of Mrs. Wilson was a great source of consolation to Emily inthe absence of her husband; and as their longer abode in town was useless, the countess declining to be presented without the earl, the whole familydecided upon a return into Northamptonshire. 

The deanery had been furnished by order of Pendennyss immediately on hismarriage; and its mistress hastened to take possession of her newdwelling. The amusement and occupation of this movement, the planning oflittle improvements, her various duties under her increasedresponsibilities, kept Emily from dwelling unduly upon the danger of herhusband. She sought out amongst the first objects of her bounty thevenerable peasant whose loss had been formerly supplied by Pendennyss onhis first visit to B----, after the death of his father. There might nothave been the usual discrimination and temporal usefulness in thisinstance which generally accompanied her benevolent acts; but it wasassociated with the image of her husband, and it could excite no surprisein Mrs. Wilson, although it did in Marian, to see her sister driving twoor three times a week to relieve the necessities of a man who appearedactually to be in want of nothing. 

Sir Edward was again amongst those he loved, and his hospitable board wasonce more surrounded with the faces of his friends and neighbors. Thegood-natured Mr. Haughton was always a welcome guest at the hall, and met, soon after their return, the collected family of the baronet, at a dinnergiven by the latter to his children and one or two of his most intimateneighbors--

"My Lady Pendennyss, " cried Mr. Haughton, in the course of the afternoon, "I have news from the earl, which I know it will do your heart good tohear. "

Emily smiled at the prospect of hearing in any manner of her husband, although she internally questioned the probability of Mr. Haughton'sknowing anything of his movements, of which her daily letters did notapprise her. 

"Will you favor me with the particulars of your intelligence, sir?" saidthe countess. 

"He has arrived safe with his regiment near Brussels; heard it from aneighbor's son who saw him enter the house occupied by Wellington, whilehe was standing in the crowd without, waiting to get a peep at the duke. "

"Oh!" said Mrs. Wilson with a laugh, "Emily knew that ten days ago. Couldyour friend tell us anything of Bonaparte? We are much interested in hismovements just now. "

Mr. Haughton, a good deal mortified to find his news stale, mused amoment, as if in doubt to proceed or not; but liking of all things to actthe part of a newspaper, he continued--

"Nothing more than you see in the prints; but I suppose your ladyship hasheard about Captain Jarvis too?"

"Why, no, " said Emily, laughing; "the movements of Captain Jarvis are notquite as interesting to me as those of Lord Pendennyss--has the duke madehim an aide-de-camp?"

"Oh! no, " cried the other, exulting at his having something new: "as soonas he heard of the return of Boney, he threw up his commission and gotmarried. "

"Married!" cried John; "not to Miss Harris, surely. "

"No; to a silly girl he met in Cornwall, who was fool enough to be caughtwith his gold lace. He married one day, and the next told his disconsolatewife and panic-stricken mother that the honor of the Jarvises must sleepuntil the supporters of the name became sufficiently numerous to risk themin the field of battle. "

"And how did Mrs. Jarvis and Sir Timo's lady relish the news?" inquiredJohn, expecting something ridiculous. 

"Not at all, " rejoined Mr. Haughton; "the former sobbed, and said she hadonly married him for his bravery and red coat, and the _lady_ exclaimedagainst the destruction of his budding honors. "

"How did it terminate?" asked Mrs. Wilson. 

"Why, it seems while they were quarrelling about it, the War-Office cutthe matter short by accepting his resignation, I suppose thecommander-in-chief had learned his character; but the matter was warmlycontested: they even drove the captain to a declaration of hisprinciples. "

"And what kind of ones might they have been, Haughton?" said Sir Edward, drily. 

"Republican. "

"Republican!" exclaimed two or three in surprise. 

"Yes, liberty and equality, he contended, were his idols, and he could notfind it in his heart to fight against Bonaparte. "

"A somewhat singular conclusion, " said Mr. Benfield, musing. "I rememberwhen I sat in the House, there was a party who were fond of the cry ofthis said liberty; but when they got the power they did not seem to me tosuffer people to go more at large than they went before; but I supposethey were diffident of telling the world their minds after they were putin such responsible stations, for fear of the effect of example. "

"Most people like liberty as servants but not as masters, uncle, " criedJohn, with a sneer. 

"Captain Jarvis, it seems, liked it as a preservative against danger, "continued Mr. Haughton; "to avoid ridicule in his new neighborhood, he hasconsented to his father's wishes, and turned merchant in the city again. "

"Where I sincerely hope he will remain, " cried John, who since theaccident of the arbor, could not tolerate the unfortunate youth. 

"Amen!" said Emily, in an under tone, heard only by her brother. 

"But Sir Timo--what has become of Sir Timo--the good, honest merchant?"asked John. 

"He has dropt the title, insists on being called plain Mr. Jarvis, andlives entirely in Cornwall. His hopeful son-in-law has gone with hisregiment to Flanders; and Lady Egerton, being unable to live without herfather's assistance, is obliged to hide her consequence in the west also. "

The subject became now disagreeable to Lady Moseley, and it was changed. Such conversations made Jane more reserved and dissatisfied than ever. Shehad no one respectable excuse to offer for her partiality to her formerlover, and when her conscience told her the mortifying fact, was apt tothink that others remembered it too. 

The letters from the continent now teemed with preparations for theapproaching contest; and the apprehensions of our heroine and her friendsincreased, in proportion to the nearness of the struggle, on which hungnot only the fates of thousands of individuals, but of adverse princes andmighty empires. In this confusion of interests, and of jarring ofpassions, there were offered prayers almost hourly for the safety ofPendennyss, which were as pure and ardent as the love which prompted them. 

Chapter XLVIII. 

Napoleon had commenced those daring and rapid movements, which for a timethrew the peace of the world into the scale of fortune, and which nothingbut the interposition of a ruling Providence could avert from theirthreatened success. As the the ----th dragoons wheeled into a fieldalready deluged with English blood, on the heights of Quatre Bras, the eyeof its gallant colonel saw a friendly battalion falling beneath the sabresof the enemy's cuirassiers. The word was passed, the column opens, thesounds of the quivering bugle were heard for a moment above the roar ofthe cannon and the shouts of the combatants; the charge, sweeping like awhirlwind, fell heavily on those treacherous Frenchmen, who to-day hadsworn fidelity to Louis, and to-morrow intended lifting their hands inallegiance to his rival. 

"Spare my life in mercy, " cried an officer, already dreadfully wounded, who stood shrinking from the impending blow of an enraged Frenchman. AnEnglish dragoon dashed at the cuirassier, and with one blow severed hisarm from his body. 

"Thank God, " sighed the wounded officer, sinking beneath the horse's feet. 

His rescuer threw himself from the saddle, and raising the fallen maninquired into his wounds. It was Pendennyss, and it was Egerton. Thewounded man groaned aloud, as he saw the face of him who had averted thefatal blow; but it was not the hour for explanations or confessions, otherthan those with which the dying soldiers endeavored to make their tardypeace with their God. 

Sir Henry was given in charge to two slightly wounded British soldiers, and the earl remounted: the scattered troops were rallied at the sound ofthe trumpet, and again and again, led by their dauntless colonel, wereseen in the thickest of the fray, with sabres drenched in blood, andvoices hoarse with the shouts of victory. 

The period between the battles of Quatre Bras and Waterloo was a tryingone to the discipline and courage of the British army. The discomfitedPrussians on their flank had been routed and compelled to retire, and intheir front was an enemy, brave, skilful, and victorious, led by thegreatest captain of the age. The prudent commander of the English forcesfell back with dignity and reluctance to the field of Waterloo; here themighty struggle was to terminate, and the eye of every experienced soldierlooked on those eminences as on the future graves for thousands. 

During this solemn interval of comparative inactivity the mind ofPendennyss dwelt on the affection, the innocence, the beauty and worth ofhis Emily, until the curdling blood, as he thought on her lot should hislife be the purchase of the coming victory, warned him to quit the gloomysubject, for the consolations of that religion which only could yield himthe solace his wounded feelings required. In his former campaigns the earlhad been sensible of the mighty changes of death, and had ever kept inview the preparations necessary to meet it with hope and joy; but theworld clung around him now, in the best affections of his nature, and itwas only as he could picture the happy reunion with his Emily in a futurelife, that he could look on a separation in this without despair. 

The vicinity of the enemy admitted of no relaxation in the strictestwatchfulness in the British lines: and the comfortless night of theseventeenth was passed by the earl, and his Lieutenant Colonel, GeorgeDenbigh, on the same cloak, and under the open canopy of Heaven. 

As the opening cannon of the enemy gave the signal for the commencingconflict, Pendennyss mounted his charger with a last thought on hisdistant wife. With a mighty struggle he tore her as it were from hisbosom, and gave the remainder of the day to duty. 

Who has not heard of the events of that fearful hour, on which the fate ofEurope hung as it were suspended in the scale? On one side supported bythe efforts of desperate resolution, guided by the most consummate art;and on the other defended by a discipline and enduring courage almostwithout a parallel. 

The indefatigable Blucher arrived, and the star of Napoleon sank. 

Pendennyss threw himself from his horse, on the night of the eighteenth ofJune, as he gave way by orders, in the pursuit, to the fresher battalionsof the Prussians, with the languor that fellows unusual excitement, andmental thanksgivings that this bloody work was at length ended. The imageof his Emily again broke over the sterner feelings of the battle, like thefirst glimmerings of light which succeed the awful darkness of the eclipseof the sun: and he again breathed freely, in the consciousness of thehappiness which would await his speedy return. 

"I am sent for the colonel of the ----th dragoons, " said a courier inbroken English to a soldier, near where the earl lay on the ground, waiting the preparations of his attendants "have I found the rightregiment, my friend?"

"To be sure you have, " answered the man, without looking up from his toilon his favorite animal, "you might have tracked us by the dead Frenchmen, I should think. So you want my lord, my lad, do you? do we move againto-night?" suspending his labor for a moment in expectation of a reply. 

"Not to my knowledge, " rejoined the courier; "my message is to yourcolonel, from a dying man. Will you point out his station?"

The soldier complied, the message was soon delivered, and Pendennyssprepared to obey its summons immediately. Preceded by the messenger as aguide, and followed by Harmer, the earl retraced his steps over thatground on which he had but a few hours before been engaged in the deadlystrife of man to man, hand to hand. 

How different is the contemplation of a field of battle during and afterthe conflict! The excitement, suspended success, shouts, uproar, andconfusion of the former, prevent any contemplation of the nicer parts ofthis confused mass of movements, charges, and retreats; or if a brilliantadvance is made, a masterly retreat effected, the imagination is chainedby the splendor and glory of the act, without resting for a moment on thesacrifice of individual happiness with which it is purchased. Abattle-ground from which the whirlwind of the combat has passed, presentsa different sight; it offers the very consummation of human misery. 

There may occasionally be an individual, who from station, distemperedmind, or the encouragement of chimerical ideas of glory, quits the theatreof life with at least the appearance of pleasure in his triumphs. If suchthere be in reality, if this rapture of departing glory be anything morethan the deception of a distempered excitement, the subject of itsexhibition is to be greatly pitied. To the Christian, dying in peace withboth God and man, can it alone be ceded in the eye of reason, to pour outhis existence with a smile on his quivering lip. 

And the warrior, who falls in the very arms of victory, after passing alife devoted to the world; even, if he sees kingdoms hang suspended on hissuccess, may smile indeed, may utter sentiments full of loyalty and zeal, may be the admiration of the world, and what is his reward? a deathlessname, and an existence of misery, which knows no termination. 

Christianity alone can make us good soldiers in any cause, for he whoknows how to live, is always the least afraid to die. 

Pendennyss and his companions pushed their way over the ground occupiedbefore the battle by the enemy; descended into and through that littlevalley, in which yet lay, in undistinguished confusion, masses of the deadand dying of either side; and again over the ridge, on which could bemarked the situation of those gallant squares which had so long resistedthe efforts of the horse and artillery by the groups of bodies, fallenwhere they had bravely stood, until even the callous Harmer sickened withthe sight of a waste of life that he had but a few hours before exultinglycontributed to increase. 

Appeals to their feelings as they rode through the field had beenfrequent, and their progress was much retarded by attempts to contributeto the ease of a wounded or a dying man; but as the courier constantlyurged speed, as the only means of securing the object of their ride, thesehalts were reluctantly abandoned. 

It was ten o'clock before they reached the farm-house, where, in the midstof hundreds of his countrymen, lay the former lover of Jane. 

As the subject of his confession must be anticipated by the reader, wewill give a short relation of his life, and of those acts which morematerially affect our history. 

Henry Egerton had been turned early on the world, hundreds of hiscountrymen, without any principle to counteract the arts of infidelity, orresist the temptations of life. His father held a situation undergovernment, and was devoted to his rise in the diplomatic line. His motherwas a woman of fashion, who lived for effect and idle competition with hersisters in weakness and folly. All he learnt in his father's house wasselfishness, from the example of one, and a love of high life and itsextravagance from the other. 

He entered the army young, and from choice. The splendor and reputation ofthe service caught his fancy; and, by pride and constitution, he wasindifferent to personal danger. Yet he loved London and its amusementsbetter than glory; and the money of his uncle, Sir Edgar, whose heir hewas reputed to be, raised him to the rank of lieutenant colonel, withouthis spending an hour in the field. 

Egerton had some abilities, and a good deal of ardor of temperament, bynature. The former, from indulgence and example, degenerated intoacquiring the art to please in mixed society; and the latter, from want ofemployment, expended itself at the card table. 

The association between the vices is intimate. There really appears to bea kind of modesty in sin that makes it ashamed of good company. If we areunable to reconcile a favorite propensity to our principles, we are apt toabandon the unpleasant restraint on our actions, rather than admit theincongruous mixture. Freed entirely from the fetters of our morals, whatis there that our vices will not prompt us to commit? Egerton, likethousands of others, went on from step to step, until he found himself inthe world; free to follow all his inclinations, so he violated none of thedecencies of life. 

When in Spain, in his only campaign, he was accidentally, as has beenmentioned, thrown in the way of the Donna Julia, and brought her off theground under the influence of natural sympathy and national feeling; akind of merit that makes vice only more dangerous, by making it sometimesamiable. He had not seen his dependant long before her beauty, situation, and his passions decided, him to effect her ruin. 

This was an occupation that his figure, manners, and propensities had madehim an adept in, and nothing was further from his thoughts than thecommission of any other than the crime that, according to his code, agentleman, might be guilty of with impunity. 

It is, however, the misfortune of sin, that from being our slave itbecomes a tyrant; and Egerton attempted what in other countries, and wherethe laws ruled, might have cost him his life. 

The conjecture of Pendennyss was true. He saw the face of the officer whointerposed between him and his villanous attempt, but was hid himself fromview. He aimed not at his life, but at his own escape. Happily his firstshot succeeded, for the earl would have been sacrificed to preserve thecharacter of a man of honor; though no one was more regardless of theestimation he was held in by the virtuous than Colonel Egerton. 

In pursuance of his plans on Mrs. Fitzgerald, the colonel had sedulouslyavoided admitting any of his companions into the secret of his having afemale in his care. 

When he left the army to return home, he remained until a movement of thetroops to a distant part of the country enabled him to effect his ownpurposes, without incurring their ridicule; and when he found himselfobliged to abandon his vehicle for a refuge in the woods, the fear ofdetection made him alter his course; and under the pretence of wishing tobe in a battle about to be fought, he secretly rejoined the army, and thegallantry of Colonel Egerton was mentioned in the next despatches. 

Sir Herbert Nicholson commanded the advanced guard, at which the earlarrived with the Donna Julia; and like every other brave man (unlessguilty himself) was indignant at the villany of the fugitive. Theconfusion and enormities daily practised in the theatre of the warprevented any close inquiries into the subject, and circumstances had soenveloped Egerton in mystery, that nothing but an interview with the ladyherself was likely to expose him. 

With Sir Herbert Nicholson, he had been in habits of intimacy, and on thatgentleman's alluding in a conversation in the barracks at F---- to thelady brought into his quarters before Lisbon, he accidentally emittedmentioning the name of her rescuer. Egerton had never before heard thetransaction spoken of, and as he had of course never mentioned the subjecthimself, was ignorant who had interfered between him and his views; alsoof the fate of Donna Julia; indeed, he thought it probable that it had notmuch improved by a change of guardians. 

In coming into Northamptonshire he had several views; he wanted atemporary retreat from his creditors. Jarvis had an infant fondness forplay, without an adequate skill, and the money of the young ladies, in hisnecessities, was becoming of importance; but the daughters of Sir EdwardMoseley were of a description more suited to his taste, and their portionswere as ample as the others. He had become in some degree attached toJane; and as her imprudent parents, satisfied with his possessing theexterior and requisite; recommendations of a gentleman admitted his visitsfreely, he determined to make her his wife. 

When he met Denbigh the first time, he saw that chance had thrown him inthe way of a man who might hold his character in his power. He had neverseen him as Pendennyss, and, it will be remembered, was ignorant of thename of Julia's friend: he now learnt for the first time that it wasDenbigh. Uneasy at he knew not what, fearful of some exposure he knew nothow, when Sir Herbert alluded to the occurrence, with a view to rebut thecharge, if Denbigh should choose to make one, and with thenear-sightedness of guilt, he pretended to know the occurrence, and underthe promise of secresy, mentioned that the name of the officer wasDenbigh. He had noticed Denbigh avoiding Sir Herbert at the ball; andjudging others from himself, thought it was a wish to avoid any allusionsto the lady he had brought into the other's quarters that induced themeasure; for he was in hopes that if Denbigh was not as guilty as himself, he was sufficiently so to wish to keep the transaction from the eyes ofEmily. He was, however, prepared for an explosion or an alliance with him, when the sudden departure of Sir Herbert removed the danger of acollision. Believing at last that they were to be brothers-in-law, andmistaking the earl for his cousin, whose name he bore, Egerton becamereconciled to the association; while Pendennyss, having in his absenceheard, on inquiring, some of the vices of the colonel, was debating withhimself whether he should expose them to Sir Edward or not. 

It was in their occasional interchange of civilities that Pendennyssplaced his pocket-book upon a table, while he exhibited the plants to thecolonel: the figure of Emily passing the window drew him from the room, and Egerton having ended his examination, observing the book, put it inhis own pocket, to return it to its owner when they next met. 

The situation, name, and history of Mrs. Fitzgerald were never mentionedby the Moseleys in public; but Jane, in the confidence of her affections, had told her lover who the inmate of the cottage was. The idea of herbeing kept there by Denbigh immediately occurred to him, and although hewas surprised at the audacity of the thing, he was determined to profit bythe occasion. 

To pay this visit, he stayed away from the excursion on the water, asPendennyss had done to avoid his friend, Lord Henry Stapleton. An excuseof business, which served for his apology, kept the colonel from seeingDenbigh to return the book, until after his visit to the cottage. Hisrhapsody of love, and offers to desert his intended wife, were nothing butthe common-place talk of his purposes; and his presumption in alluding tohis situation with Miss Moseley, proceeded from his impressions as toJulia's real character. In the struggle for the bell, the pocket-book ofDenbigh accidentally fell from his coat, and the retreat of the colonelwas too precipitate to enable him to recover it. 

Mrs. Fitzgerald was too much alarmed to distinguish nicely, and Egertonproceeded to the ball-room with the indifference of a hardened offender. When the arrival of Miss Jarvis, to whom he had committed himself, prompted him to a speedy declaration, and the unlucky conversation of Mr. Holt brought about a probable detection of his gaming propensities, thecolonel determined to get rid of his awkward situation and his debts by acoup-de-main. He accordingly eloped with Miss Jarvis. 

What portion of the foregoing narrative made the dying confession ofEgerton to the man he had so lately discovered to be the Earl ofPendennyss, the reader can easily imagine. 

Chapter XLIX. 

The harvest had been gathered, and the beautiful vales of Pendennyss wereshooting forth a second crop of verdure. The husbandman was turning hisprudent forethought to the promises of the coming year, while the castleitself exhibited to the gaze of the wondering peasant a sight ofcheerfulness and animation which had not been seen in it since the days ofthe good duke. Its numerous windows were opened to the light of the sun, its halls teemed with the faces of its happy inmates. Servants in variousliveries were seen gliding through its magnificent apartments andmultiplied passages. Horses, grooms, and carriages, with varied costumesand different armorial bearings, crowded its spacious stables and offices. Everything spoke society, splendor, and activity without; everythingdenoted order, propriety, and happiness within. 

In a long range of spacious apartments were grouped in the pursuit oftheir morning employments, or in arranging their duties and pleasures ofthe day, the guests and owners of the princely abode. 

In one room was John Moseley, carefully examining the properties of someflints which were submitted to his examination by his attending servant;while Grace, sitting at his side, playfully snatches the stones from hishand, as she cries half reproachfully, half tenderly---

"You must not devote yourself to your gun so incessantly, Moseley; it iscruel to kill inoffensive birds for your amusement only. "

"Ask Emily's cook, and Mr. Haughton's appetite, " said John, coollyextending his hand towards her for the flint--"whether no one isgratified but myself. I tell you, Grace, I seldom fire in vain. "

"That only makes the matter worse; the slaughter you commit is dreadful. "

"Oh!" cried John, with a laugh, "the ci-devant Captain Jarvis is asportsman to your mind. He would shoot a month without moving a feather;he was a great friend to, " throwing an arch look to his solitary sister, who sat on a sofa at a distance perusing a book, "Jane's featheredsongsters. "

"But now, Mosely, " said Grace, yielding the flints, but gently retainingthe hand that took them, "Pendenyss and Chatterton intend driving theirwives, like good husbands, to see the beautiful waterfall in themountains; and what am I to do this long tedious morning?"

John stole an enquiring glance, to see if his wife was very anxious tojoin the party--cast one look of regret on a beautiful agate that he hadselected, and inquired--

"Do you wish to go very much, Mrs. Mosely?"

"Indeed--indeed I do, " said the other, eagerly, "if--"

"If what?"

"You will drive me?" continued she, with a cheek slightly tinged withcolor. 

"Well, then, " answered John, with deliberation, and regarding his wifewith affection "I will go on one condition. "

"Name it!" cried Grace, with still increasing color. 

"That you will not expose your health again in going to the church on aSunday, if it rains. "

"The carriage is so close, Mosely, " answered Grace, with a paler cheekthan beforehand eyes fixed on the carpet, "it is impossible I can takecold: you see the earl, and countess, and aunt Wilson never miss publicworship, when possibly within their power. "

"The earl goes with his wife; but what becomes of poor me at such times!"said John, taking her hand and pressing it kindly. "I like; to hear a goodsermon, but not in bad weather. You must consent to oblige me, who onlylive in your presence. "

Grace smiled faintly, as John, pursuing the point, said--"What do you sayto my condition?"

"Well then, if you wish, " replied Graces without the look of gaiety herhopes had first inspired, "I will not go if it rain. "

John ordered his phaeton, and his wife went to her room to prepare for thetrip, and to regret her own resolution. 

In, the recess of a window, in which bloomed a profusion of exotics, stoodthe figure of Lady Marian Denbigh, playing with a half-blown rose of therichest colors; and before her, leaning against the angle of the wall, stood her kinsman the Duke of Derwent. 

"You heard the plan at the breakfast table, " said his Grace, "to visit thelittle falls in the hills. But I suppose you have seen them too often toundergo the fatigue?"

"Oh no! I love that ride dearly, and should wish to accompany the countessin her first visit to it. I had half a mind to ask George to take me inhis phaeton. "

"My curricle would be honored with the presence of Lady Marian Denbigh, "cried the duke with animation, "if, she would accept me for her knight onthe occasion. "

Marian bowed an assent, in evident satisfaction, as the duke proceeded--

"But if you take me as your knight I should wear your ladyship's colors;"and he held out his hand towards the budding rose. Lady Marian hesitated amoment--looked out at the prospeet--up at the wall--turned, and wonderedwhere her brother was; and still finding the hand of the duke extended, while his eye rested on her in admiration, she gave him the boon with acheek that vied with the richest tints of the flower. They separated toprepare, and it was on their return from the falls that the duke seemeduncommonly gay and amusing, and the lady silent with her tongue, thoughher eyes danced in every direction but towards her cousin. 

"Really, my dear Lady Mosely, " said the dowager, as, seated by the side ofher companion, her eyes roved over the magnificence within, and widelyextended domains without--"Emily is well established indeed--bettereven than my Grace. "

"Grace has an affectionate husband, " replied the other, gravely, "and onethat I hope will make her happy. "

"Oh! no doubt happy!" said Lady Chatterton, hastily: "but they say Emilyhas a jointure of twelve thousand a year--by-the-by, " she added, in a lowtone, though no one was near enough to hear what she said, "could not theearl have settled Lumley: Castle on her instead of the deanery?"

"Upon my word I never think of such gloomy subjects as provisions forwidowhood, " cried Lady Mosely: "you have been in Annerdale House--is itnot a princely mansion?"

"Princely, indeed, " rejoined the dowager, sighing: "don't the earl intendincreasing the rents of this estate as the leases fall in? I am told theyare very low now!"

"I believe not, " said the other. "He has enough, and is willing others, should prosper. But there is Clara, with her little boy--is he not alovely child?" cried the grandmother, rising to take the infant in herarms. 

"Oh! excessively beautiful!" said the dowager, looking the other way, andobserving Catharine making a movement towards Lord Henry Stapleton, shecalled to her. "Lady Herriefield--come this way, my dear--I wish to speakto you. "

Kate obeyed with a sullen pout of her pretty lip, and entered into someidle discussion about a cap, though her eyes wandered round the rooms inlistless vacancy. 

The dowager had the curse of bad impressions in youth to contend with, andlabored infinitely harder now to make her daughter act right, thanformerly she had ever done to make her act wrong. 

"Here! uncle Benfield, " cried Emily, with a face glowing with health andanimation, as she approached his seat with a glass in her hands. "Here isthe negus you wished; I have made it myself, and you will praise it ofcourse. "

"Oh! my dear Lady Pendennyss, " said the old gentleman, rising politelyfrom his seat to receive the beverage: "you are putting yourself to agreat deal of trouble for an old bachelor like me; too much indeed, toomuch. "

"Old bachelors are sometimes more esteemed than young one, " cried the earlgaily, joining them in time to hear this speech. "Here is my friend, Mr. Peter Johnson; who knows when we may dance at his wedding?"

"My lord, and my lady, and my honored master, " said Peter gravely, inreply, bowing respectfully where he stood, waiting to take his master'sglass--"I am past the age to think of a wife: I am seventy-three comingnext 'lammas, counting by the old style. "

"What do you intend to do with your three hundred a year, " said Emily witha smile, "unless you bestow it on some good woman, for making the eveningof your life comfortable?'

"My lady--hem--my lady, " said the steward, blushing, "I had a littlethought, with your kind ladyship's consent, as I have no-relations, chickor child in the world, what to do with it. "

"I should be happy to hear your plan, " said the countess, observing thatthe steward was anxious to communicate something. 

"Why, my lady, if my lord and my honored master's agreeable, I did thinkof making another codicil to master's will in order to dispose of it. "

"Your master's will, " said the earl laughing; "why not to your own, goodPeter?"

"My honored lord, " said the steward, with great humility, "it don't becomea poor serving-man like me to make a will. "

"But how will you prove it?" said the earl, kindly, willing to convincehim of his error; "you must be both dead to prove it. "

"Our wills, " said Peter, gulping his words, "will be proved on the sameday. "

His master looked round at him with great affection, and both the earl andEmily were too much struck to say anything. Peter had, however, thesubject too much at heart to abandon it, just as he had broken the ice. Heanxiously wished for the countess's consent to the scheme, for he wouldnot affront her, even after he was dead. 

"My lady--Miss Emmy, " said Johnson, eagerly, "my plan is, if my honoredmaster's agreeable--to make a codicil, and give my mite to a little--LadyEmily Denbigh. "

"Oh! Peter, you and uncle Benfield are both too good, " cried Emily, laughing and blushing, as she hastened to Clara and her mother. 

"Thank you, thank you, " cried the delighted earl, following his wife withhis eyes, and shaking the steward cordially by the hand; "and, if nobetter expedient be adopted by us, you have full permission to do as youplease with your money. 

"Peter, " said his master to him in a low tone, "you should never speak ofsuch things prematurely; now I remember when the Earl of Pendennyss, mynephew, was first presented to me, I was struck with the delicacy andpropriety of his demeanor, and the Lady Pendennyss, my niece, too; younever see any thing forward, or--Ah! Emmy, dear, " said the old man, tenderly interrupting himself, "you are too good to remember your olduncle, " taking one of the fine peaches she handed him from a plate. 

"My lord, " said Mr. Haughton to the earl, "Mrs. Ives and myself have had acontest about the comforts of matrimony; she insists she may be quite ashappy at Bolton Parsonage as in this noble castle, and with this richprospect in view. "

"I hope, " said Francis, "you are not teaching my wife to be discontentedwith her humble lot--if so, both hers and your visit will be an unhappyone. "

"It would be no easy task, if our good friend intended any such thing byhis jests, " said Clara, smiling. "I know my true interests, I trust, toowell, to wish to change my fortune. "

"You are right, " said Pendennyss; "it is wonderful how little ourhappiness depends on a temporal condition. When here, or at Lumley Castle, surrounded by my tenantry, there are, I confess, moments of weakness, inwhich the loss of my wealth or rank would be missed greatly; but when onservice, subjected to great privations, and surrounded by men superior tome in military rank, who say unto me--go, and I go--come, and I come--Ifind my enjoyments intrinsically the same. "

"That, " said Francis, "may be owing to your Lordship's tempered feelings, which have taught you to look beyond this world for pleasures andconsolation. "

"It has, doubtless, an effect, " said the earl, "but there is no truth ofwhich I am more fully persuaded, than that our happiness here does notdepend upon our lot in life, so we are not suffering for necessaries--evenchanges bring less real misery than they are supposed to do. "

"Doubtless, " cried Mr. Haughton, "under the circumstances, I would notwish to change even with your lordship--unless, indeed, " he continued, with a smile and bow to the countess, "it were the temptation of yourlovely wife. "

"You are quite polite, " said Emily laughing, "but I have no desire todeprive Mrs. Haughton of a companion she has made out so well with thesetwenty years past. "

"_Thirty_, my lady, if you please. "

"And thirty more, I hope, " continued Emily, as a servant announced theseveral carriages at the door. The younger part of the company nowhastened to their different engagements, and Chatterton handed Harriet;John, Grace; and Pendennyss, Emily, into their respective carriages; theduke and Lady Marian following, but at some little distance from the restof the party. 

As the earl drove from the door, the countess looked up to a window, atwhich were standing her aunt and Doctor Ives. She kissed her hand to them, with a face, in which glowed the mingled expression of innocence, love, and joy. 

Before leaving the Park, the party passed Sir Edward; with his wifeleaning on one arm and Jane on the other, pursuing their daily walk. Thebaronet followed the carriages with his eyes, and exchanged looks of thefondest love with his children, as they drove slowly and respectfully byhim; and if the glance which followed on Jane, did not speak equalpleasure, it surely denoted its proper proportion of paternal love. 

"You have much reason to congratulate yourself on the happy termination ofyour labors, " said the doctor, with a smile, to the widow; "Emily isplaced, so far as human foresight can judge, in the happiest of allstations a female can be in: she is the pious wife of a pious husband, beloved, and deserving of it. "

"Yes, " said Mrs. Wilson, drawing back from following the phaeton with hereyes, "they are as happy as this world will admit, and, what is better, they are well prepared to meet any reverse of fortune which may occur, aswell as to discharge the duties on which they have entered. I do notthink, " continued she, musing, "that Pendennyss can ever doubt theaffections of such a woman as Emily. "

"I should think not" said the doctor, "but what can excite such a thoughtin your breast, and one so much to the prejudice of George?"

"The only unpleasant thing I have ever observed in him, " said Mrs. Wilsongravely, "is the suspicion which induced him to adopt the disguise inwhich he entered our family. "

"He did not adopt it, madam--- chance and circumstances drew it around himaccidentally; and when you consider the peculiar state of his mind fromthe discovery of his mother's misconduct--his own great wealth and rank---it is not so surprising that he should yield to a deception, ratherharmless than injurious. "

"Dr. Ives, " said Mrs. Wilson, "is not wont to defend deceit. "

"Nor do I now, madam;" replied the doctor with a smile; "I acknowledge theoffence of George, myself, wife, and son. I remonstrated at the time uponprinciple; I said the end would not justify the means; that a departurefrom ordinary rules of propriety was at all times dangerous, and seldompractised with impunity. "

"And you failed to convince your hearers, " cried Mrs. Wilson, gaily; "anovelty in your case, my good rector. "

"I thank you for the compliment, " said the doctor; "I did convince them asto the truth of the principle, but the earl contended that his case mightmake an innocent exception. He had the vanity to think, I believe, that byconcealing his real name, he injured himself more than any one else, andgot rid of the charge in some such way. He is however, thoroughlyconvinced of the truth of the position, by practice; his sufferings, growing out of the mistake of his real character, and which could not havehappened had he appeared in proper person, having been greater than he isready to acknowledge. "

"If they study the fate of the Donna Julia, and his own weakness, " saidthe widow, "they will have a salutary moral always at hand, to teach themthe importance of two cardinal virtues at least--obedience and truth. "

"Julia has suffered much, " replied the doctor; "and although she hasreturned to her father, the consequences of her imprudence are likely tocontinue. When once the bonds of mutual confidence and respect are broken, they may be partially restored, it is true, but never with a warmth andreliance such as existed previously. To return, however, to yourself, doyou not feel a sensation of delight at the prosperous end of yourexertions in behalf of Emily?"

"It is certainly pleasant to think we have discharged our duties, and thetask is much easier than we are apt to suppose, " said Mrs. Wilson; "it isonly to commence the foundation, so that it will be able to support thesuperstructure. I have endeavored to make Emily a Christian. I haveendeavored to form such a taste and principles in her, that she would notbe apt to admire an improper suitor and I have labored to prepare her todischarge her continued duties through life, in such a manner and withsuch a faith, as under the providence of God will result in happiness farexceeding anything she now enjoys. In all these, by the blessing ofHeaven, I have succeeded, and had occasion offered, I would have assistedher inexperience through the more delicate decisions of her sex, though inno instance would I attempt to control them. "

"You are right, my dear madam, " said the doctor, taking her kindly by thehand, "and had I a daughter, I would follow a similar course. Give herdelicacy, religion, and a proper taste, aided by the unseen influence of aprudent parent's care, and the chances of a woman for happiness would bemuch greater than they are; and I am entirely of your opinion--'Thatprevention is at all times better than cure. '"

THE END.