SCENES AND CHARACTERS, OR, EIGHTEEN MONTHS AT BEECHCROFT PREFACE Of those who are invited to pay a visit to Beechcroft, there are somewho, honestly acknowledging that amusement is their object, will becontent to feel with Lilias, conjecture with Jane, and get intoscrapes with Phyllis, without troubling themselves to extract anymoral from their proceedings; and to these the Mohun family wouldonly apologise for having led a very humdrum life during the eighteenmonths spent in their company. There may, however, be more unreasonable visitors, who, professingonly to come as parents and guardians, expect entertainment forthemselves, as well as instruction for those who had rather it wasout of sight, --look for antiques in carved cherry-stones, --andrequire plot, incident, and catastrophe in a chronicle of small beer. To these the Mohuns beg respectfully to observe, that they hope theirexamples may not be altogether devoid of indirect instruction; andlest it should be supposed that they lived without object, aim, orprinciple, they would observe that the maxim which has influenced thedelineation of the different Scenes and Characters is, that feeling, unguided and unrestrained, soon becomes mere selfishness; while thesimple endeavour to fulfil each immediate claim of duty may lead tothe highest acts of self-devotion. NEW COURT, BEECHCROFT, 18th January. PREFACE (1886) Perhaps this book is an instance to be adduced in support of theadvice I have often given to young authors--not to print before theythemselves are old enough to do justice to their freshest ideas. Not that I can lay claim to its being a production of tender andinteresting youth. It was my second actual publication, and Ibelieve I was of age before it appeared--but I see now the failuresthat more experience might have enabled me to avoid; and I would notagain have given it to the world if the same characters recurring inanother story had not excited a certain desire to see their firststart. In fact they have been more or less my life-long companions. Analmost solitary child, with periodical visits to the Elysium of alarge family, it was natural to dream of other children and theirways and sports till they became almost realities. They took shapewhen my French master set me to write letters for him. The lettersgradually became conversation and narrative, and the adventures ofthe family sweetened the toils of French composition. In theexigencies of village school building in those days gone by, beforein every place "It there behoved him to set up the standard of her Grace, " the tale was actually printed for private sale, as a link betweentranslations of short stories. This process only stifled the family in my imagination for a time. They awoke once more with new names, but substantially the same, andwere my companions in many a solitary walk, the results of which werescribbled down in leisure moments to be poured into my mother's everpatient and sympathetic ears. And then came the impulse to literature for young people given by theexample of that memorable book the Fairy Bower, and followed up byAmy Herbert. It was felt that elder children needed something of adeeper tone than the Edgeworthian style, yet less directly religiousthan the Sherwood class of books; and on that wave of opinion, mylittle craft floated out into the great sea of the public. Friends, whose kindness astonished me, and fills me with gratitudewhen I look back on it, gave me seasonable criticism and pruning, andfinally launched me. My heroes and heroines had arranged themselvesso as to work out a definite principle, and this was enough for usall. Children's books had not been supposed to require a plot. MissEdgeworth's, which I still continue to think gems in their own line, are made chronicles, or, more truly, illustrations of various truthsworked out upon the same personages. Moreover, the skill of a JaneAusten or a Mrs. Gaskell is required to produce a perfect plotwithout doing violence to the ordinary events of an every-day life. It is all a matter of arrangement. Mrs. Gaskell can make a perfectlittle plot out of a sick lad and a canary bird; and another can donothing with half a dozen murders and an explosion; and of arrangingmy materials so as to build up a story, I was quite incapable. It isstill my great deficiency; but in those days I did not evenunderstand that the attempt was desirable. Criticism was a morethorough thing in those times than it has since become through themultiplicity of books to be hurried over, and it was often veryuseful, as when it taught that such arrangement of incident was themeans of developing the leading idea. Yet, with all its faults, the children, who had been real to me, caught, chiefly by the youthful sense of fun and enjoyment, theattention of other children; and the curious semi-belief one has inthe phantoms of one's brain made me dwell on their after life andshare my discoveries with my friends, not, however, writing them downtill after the lapse of all these years the tenderness inspired byassociations of early days led to taking up once more the oldcharacters in The Two Sides of the Shield; and the kind welcome thishas met with has led to the resuscitation of the crude andinexperienced tale which never pretended to be more than a merefamily chronicle. C. M. YONGE. 6th October 1886. CHAPTER I--THE ELDER SISTER 'Return, and in the daily round Of duty and of love, Thou best wilt find that patient faith That lifts the soul above. ' Eleanor Mohun was the eldest child of a gentleman of old family, andgood property, who had married the sister of his friend andneighbour, the Marquis of Rotherwood. The first years of her lifewere marked by few events. She was a quiet, steady, useful girl, finding her chief pleasure in nursing and teaching her brothers andsisters, and her chief annoyance in her mamma's attempts to make hera fine lady; but before she had reached her nineteenth year she hadlearnt to know real anxiety and sorrow. Her mother, after sufferingmuch from grief at the loss of her two brothers, fell into soalarming a state of health, that her husband was obliged immediatelyto hurry her away to Italy, leaving the younger children under thecare of a governess, and the elder boys at school, while Eleanoralone accompanied them. Their absence lasted nearly three years, and during the last winter, an engagement commenced between Eleanor and Mr. Francis Hawkesworth, rather to the surprise of Lady Emily, who wondered that he had beenable to discover the real worth veiled beneath a formal and retiringmanner, and to admire features which, though regular, had a want oflight and animation, which diminished their beauty even more than thethinness and compression of the lips, and the very pale gray of theeyes. The family were about to return to England, where the marriage was totake place, when Lady Emily was attacked with a sudden illness, whichher weakened frame was unable to resist, and in a very few days shedied, leaving the little Adeline, about eight months old, toaccompany her father and sister on their melancholy journeyhomewards. This loss made a great change in the views of Eleanor, who, as she considered the cares and annoyances which would fall onher father, when left to bear the whole burthen of the management ofthe children and household, felt it was her duty to give up her ownprospects of happiness, and to remain at home. How could she leavethe tender little ones to the care of servants--trust her sisters toa governess, and make her brothers' home yet more dreary? She knewher father to be strong in sense and firm in judgment, but indolent, indulgent, and inattentive to details, and she could not bear toleave him to be harassed by the petty cares of a numerous family, especially when broken in spirits and weighed down with sorrow. Shethought her duty was plain, and, accordingly, she wrote to Mr. Hawkesworth, to beg him to allow her to withdraw her promise. Her brother Henry was the only person who knew what she had done, andhe alone perceived something of tremulousness about her in the midstof the even cheerfulness with which she had from the first supportedher father's spirits. Mr. Mohun, however, did not long remain inignorance, for Frank Hawkesworth himself arrived at Beechcroft toplead his cause with Eleanor. He knew her value too well to give herup, and Mr. Mohun would not hear of her making such a sacrifice forhis sake. But Eleanor was also firm, and after weeks of unhappinessand uncertainty, it was at length arranged that she should remain athome till Emily was old enough to take her place, and that Frankshould then return from India and claim his bride. Well did she discharge the duties which she had undertaken; she kepther father's mind at ease, followed out his views, managed the boyswith discretion and gentleness, and made her sisters well-informedand accomplished girls; but, for want of fully understanding thecharacters of her two next sisters, Emily and Lilias, she made somemistakes with regard to them. The clouds of sorrow, to her so darkand heavy, had been to them but morning mists, and the four yearswhich had changed her from a happy girl into a thoughtful, anxiouswoman, had brought them to an age which, if it is full of the folliesof childhood, also partakes of the earnestness of youth; an age whendeep foundations of enduring confidence may be laid by one who canenter into and direct the deeper flow of mind and feeling which lurkshid beneath the freaks and fancies of the early years of girlhood. But Eleanor had little sympathy for freaks and fancies. She knew therealities of life too well to build airy castles with younger andgayer spirits; her sisters' romance seemed to her dangerous folly, and their lively nonsense levity and frivolity. They were toochildish to share in her confidence, and she was too busy and toomuch preoccupied to have ear or mind for visionary trifles, though totrifles of real life she paid no small degree of attention. It might have been otherwise had Henry Mohun lived; but in the midstof the affection of all who knew him, honour from those who couldappreciate his noble character, and triumphs gained by his uncommontalents, he was cut off by a short illness, when not quite nineteen, a most grievous loss to his family, and above all, to Eleanor. Unlike her, as he was joyous, high-spirited, full of fun, andoverflowing with imagination and poetry, there was a very close bondof union between them, in the strong sense of duty, the firmness ofpurpose, and energy of mind which both possessed, and which madeEleanor feel perfect reliance on him, and look up to him with earnestadmiration. With him alone she was unreserved; he was the onlyperson who could ever make her show a spark of liveliness, and on hisdeath, it was only with the most painful efforts that she couldmaintain her composed demeanour and fulfil her daily duties. Yearspassed on, and still she felt the blank which Harry had left, almostas much as the first day that she heard of his death, but she neverspoke of him, and to her sisters it seemed as if he was forgotten. The reserve which had begun to thaw under his influence, againreturning, placed her a still greater distance from the youngergirls, and unconsciously she became still more of a governess andless of a sister. Little did she know of the 'blissful dreams insecret shared' between Emily, Lilias, and their brother Claude, andlittle did she perceive the danger that Lilias would be run away withby a lively imagination, repressed and starved, but entirelyuntrained. Whatever influenced Lilias, had, through her, nearly the same effectupon Emily, a gentle girl, easily led, especially by Lilias, whom sheregarded with the fondest affection and admiration. The perils offancy and romance were not, however, to be dreaded for Jane, thefourth sister, a strong resemblance of Eleanor in her clear commonsense, love of neatness, and active usefulness; but there were otherdangers for her, in her tendency to faults, which, under wisetraining, had not yet developed themselves. Such were the three girls who were now left to assist each other inthe management of the household, and who looked forward to their newoffices with the various sensations of pleasure, anxiety, self-importance, and self-mistrust, suited to their differing characters, and to the ages of eighteen, sixteen, and fourteen. CHAPTER II--THE NEW COURT 'Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, When thought is speech, and speech is truth. ' The long-delayed wedding took place on the 13th of January, 1845, andthe bride and bridegroom immediately departed for a year's visitamong Mr. Hawkesworth's relations in Northumberland, whence they wereto return to Beechcroft, merely for a farewell, before sailing forIndia. It was half-past nine in the evening, and the wedding over--Mr. AndMrs. Hawkesworth gone, and the guests departed, the drawing-room hadreturned to its usual state. It was a very large room, so spaciousthat it would have been waste and desolate, had it not been wellfilled with handsome, but heavy old-fashioned furniture, covered withcrimson damask, and one side of the room fitted up with a bookcase, so high that there was a spiral flight of library steps to giveaccess to the upper shelves. Opposite were four large windows, nowhidden by their ample curtains; and near them was at one end of theroom a piano, at the other a drawing-desk. The walls were wainscotedwith polished black oak, the panels reflecting the red fire-lightlike mirrors. Over the chimney-piece hung a portrait, by Vandyke, ofa pale, dark cavalier, of noble mien, and with arched eyebrows, called by Lilias, in defiance of dates, by the name of Sir Maurice deMohun, the hero of the family, and allowed by every one to be astriking likeness of Claude, the youth who at that moment lay, extending a somewhat superfluous length of limb upon the sofa, whichwas placed commodiously at right angles to the fire. The other side of the fire was Mr. Mohun's special domain, and therehe sat at his writing-table, abstracted by deafness and letterwriting, from the various sounds of mirth and nonsense, whichproceeded from the party round the long narrow sofa table, which theyhad drawn across the front of the fire, leaving the large roundcentre table in darkness and oblivion. This party had within the last half hour been somewhat thinned; thethree younger girls had gone to bed, the Rector of Beechcroft, Mr. Robert Devereux, had been called home to attend some parish business, and there remained Emily and Lilias--tall graceful girls, with softhazel eyes, clear dark complexions, and a quantity of long browncurls. The latter was busily completing a guard for the watch, whichMr. Hawkesworth had presented to Reginald, a fine handsome boy ofeleven, who, with his elbows on the table, sat contemplating herprogress, and sometimes teasing his brother Maurice, who wasearnestly engaged in constructing a model with some cards, which hehad pilfered from the heap before Emily. She was putting hersister's wedding cards into their shining envelopes, and directingthem in readiness for the post the next morning, while they weresealed by a youth of the same age as Claude, a small slim figure, with light complexion and hair, and dark gray eyes full of brightnessand vivacity. He was standing, so as to be more on a level with the high candle, and as Emily's writing was not quite so rapid as his sealing, heamused himself in the intervals with burning his own fingers, bytwisting the wax into odd shapes. 'Why do you not seal up his eyes?' inquired Reginald, with an archglance towards his brother on the sofa. 'Do it yourself, you rogue, ' was the answer, at the same timeapproaching with the hot sealing-wax in his hand--a demonstrationwhich occasioned Claude to open his eyes very wide, without givinghimself any further trouble about the matter. 'Eh?' said he, 'now they try to look innocent, as if no one couldhear them plotting mischief. ' 'Them! it was not!--Redgie there--young ladies--I appeal--was not Ias innocent?'--was the very rapid, incoherent, and indistinct answer. 'After so lucid and connected a justification, no more can be said, 'replied Claude, in a kind of 'leave me, leave me to repose' tone, which occasioned Lilias to say, 'I am afraid you are very tired. ' 'Tired! what has he done to tire him?' 'I am sure a wedding is a terrible wear of spirits!' said Emily--'such excitement. ' 'Well--when I give a spectacle to the family next year, I mean totire you to some purpose. ' 'Eh?' said Mr. Mohun, looking up, 'is Rotherwood's wedding to be thenext?' 'You ought to understand, uncle, ' said Lord Rotherwood, making twostops towards him, and speaking a little more clearly, 'I thought youlonged to get rid of your nephew and his concerns. ' 'You idle boy!' returned Mr. Mohun, 'you do not mean to have theimpertinence to come of age next year. ' 'As much as having been born on the 30th of July, 1825, can make me. ' 'But what good will your coming of age do us?' said Lilias, 'you willbe in London or Brighton, or some such stupid place. ' 'Do not be senseless, Lily, ' returned her cousin. 'Devereux Castleis to be in splendour--Hetherington in amazement--the county's hairshall stand on end--illuminations, bonfires, feasts, balls, coloursflying, bands playing, tenants dining, fireworks--' 'Hurrah! jolly! jolly!' shouted Reginald, dancing on the ottoman, 'and mind there are lots of squibs. ' 'And that Master Reginald Mohun has a new cap and bells for theoccasion, ' said Lord Rotherwood. 'Let me make some fireworks, ' said Maurice. 'You will begin like a noble baron of the hospitable olden time, 'said Lily. 'It will be like the old days, when every birthday of yours was ahappy day for the people at Hetherington, ' said Emily. 'Ah! those were happy old days, ' said Lord Rotherwood, in a gravertone. 'These are happy days, are not they?' said Lily, smiling. Her cousin answered with a sigh, 'Yes, but you do not remember theold ones, Lily;' then, after a pause, he added, 'It was a grievousmistake to shut up the castle all these years. We have lost sight ofeverybody. I do not even know what has become of the Aylmers. ' 'They went to live in London, ' said Emily, 'Aunt Robert used to writeto them there. ' 'I know, I know, but where are they now?' 'In London, I should think, ' said Emily. 'Some one said Miss Aylmerwas gone out as a governess. ' 'Indeed! I wish I could hear more! Poor Mr. Aylmer! He was thefirst man who tried to teach me Latin. I wonder what has become ofthat mad fellow Edward, and Devereux, my father's godson! Was notMrs. Aylmer badly off? I cannot bear that people should beforgotten!' 'It is not so very long that we have lost sight of them, ' said Emily. 'Eight years, ' said Lord Rotherwood. 'He died six weeks after myfather. Well! I have made my mother promise to come home. ' 'Really?' said Lilias, 'she has been coming so often. ' 'Aye--but she is coming this time. She is to spend the winter at thecastle, and make acquaintance with all the neighbourhood. ' 'His lordship is romancing, ' said Claude to Lily in a confidentialtone. 'I'll punish you for suspecting me of talking hyperborean language--hyperbolical, I mean, ' cried Lord Rotherwood; 'I'll make you dancethe Polka with all the beauty and fashion. ' 'Then I shall stay at Oxford till it is over, ' said Claude. 'You do not know what a treasure you will be, ' said the Marquis, 'ladies like nothing so well as dancing with a fellow twice theheight he should be. ' 'Beware of putting me forward, ' said Claude, rising, and, as he leantagainst the chimney-piece, looking down from his height of six feetthree, with a patronising air upon his cousin, 'I shall be taken forthe hero, and you for my little brother. ' 'I wish I was, ' said Lord Rotherwood, 'it would be much better fun. I should escape the speechifying, the worst part of it. ' 'Yes, ' said Claude, 'for one whose speeches will be scraps of threewords each, strung together with the burthen of the apprentices'song, Radara tadara, tandore. ' 'Radaratade, ' said the Marquis, laughing. 'By the bye, if Eleanorand Frank Hawkesworth manage well, they may be here in time. ' 'Because they are so devoted to gaiety?' said Claude. 'You will saynext that William is coming from Canada, on purpose. ' 'That tall captain!' said Lord Rotherwood. 'He used to be a veryawful person. ' 'Ah! he used to keep the spoilt Marquis in order, ' said Claude. 'To say nothing of the spoilt Claude, ' returned Lord Rotherwood. 'Claude never was spoilt, ' said Lily. 'It was not Eleanor's way, ' said Emily. 'At least she cannot be accused of spoiling me, ' said LordRotherwood. 'I shall never dare to write at that round table again--her figure will occupy the chair like Banquo's ghost, and wave me offwith a knitting needle. ' 'Ah! that stain of ink was a worse blot on your character than on thenew table cover, ' said Claude. 'She was rigidly impartial, ' said Lord Rotherwood. 'No, ' said Claude, 'she made exceptions in favour of Ada and me. Sheleft the spoiling of the rest to Emily. ' 'And well Emily will perform it! A pretty state you will be in bythe 30th of July, 1846, ' said Lord Rotherwood. 'Why should not Emily make as good a duenna as Eleanor?' said Lily. 'Why should she not? She will not--that is all, ' said the Marquis. 'Such slow people you all are! You would all go to sleep if I didnot sometimes rouse you up a little--grow stagnant. ' 'Not an elegant comparison, ' said Lilias; 'besides, you must rememberthat your hasty brawling streams do not reflect like tranquil lakes. ' 'One of Lily's poetical hits, I declare!' said Lord Rotherwood, 'butshe need not have taken offence--I did not refer to her--only Claudeand Emily, and perhaps--no, I will not say who else. ' 'Then, Rotherwood, I will tell you what I am--the Lily that derivesall its support from the calm lake. ' 'Well done, Lily, worthy of yourself, ' cried Lord Rotherwood, laughing, 'but you know I am always off when you talk poetry. ' 'I suspect it is time for us all to be off, ' said Claude, 'did I nothear it strike the quarter?' 'And to-morrow I shall be off in earnest, ' said Lord Rotherwood. 'Half way to London before Claude has given one turn to "his sides, and his shoulders, and his heavy head. "' 'Shall we see you at Easter?' said Emily. 'No, I do not think you will. I am engaged to stay with somebodysomewhere, I forget the name of place and man; besides, GrosvenorSquare is more tolerable then than at any other time of the year, andI shall spend a fortnight with my mother and Florence. It is afterEaster that you come to Oxford, is it not, Claude?' 'Yes, my year of idleness will be over. And there is the Baronlooking at his watch. ' The 'Baron' was the title by which the young people were wont todistinguish Mr. Mohun, who, as Lily believed, had a right to thetitle of Baron of Beechcroft. It was certain that he was therepresentative of a family which had been settled at Beechcroft eversince the Norman Conquest, and Lily was very proud of the name of SirWilliam de Moune in the battle roll, and of Sir John among the firstKnights of the Garter. Her favourite was Sir Maurice, who had heldout Beechcroft Court for six weeks against the Roundheads, and hadseen the greater part of the walls battered down. Witnesses of thestrength of the old castle yet remained in the massive walls andbroad green ramparts, which enclosed what was now orchard and farm-yard, and was called the Old Court, while the dwelling-house, builtby Sir Maurice after the Restoration, was named the New Court. SirMaurice had lost many an acre in the cause of King Charles, and hisnew mansion was better suited to the honest squires who succeededhim, than to the mighty barons his ancestors. It was substantial andwell built, with a square gravelled court in front, and great, solid, folding gates opening into a lane, bordered with very tall well-clipped holly hedges, forming a polished, green, prickly wall. Therewas a little door in one of these gates, which was scarcely evershut, from whence a well-worn path led to the porch, where generallyreposed a huge Newfoundland dog, guardian of the hoops andwalkingsticks that occupied the corners. The front door was of heavysubstantial oak, studded with nails, and never closed in the daytime, and the hall, wainscoted and floored with slippery oak, had a nobleopen fireplace, with a wood fire burning on the hearth. On the other side of the house was a terrace sloping down to a lawnand bowling-green, hedged in by a formal row of evergreens. A nobleplane-tree was in the middle of the lawn, and beyond it a pondrenowned for water-lilies. To the left was the kitchen garden, terminating in an orchard, planted on the ramparts and moat of theOld Court; then came the farm buildings, and beyond them a field, sloping upwards to an extensive wood called Beechcroft Park. In thewood was the cottage of Walter Greenwood, gamekeeper and woodman byhereditary succession, but able and willing to turn his hand toanything, and, in fact, as Adeline once elegantly termed him, the'family tee totum. ' To the right of the house there was a field, called Long Acre, bounded on the other side by the turnpike road to Raynham, which ledup the hill to the village green, surrounded by well-kept cottagesand gardens. The principal part of the village was, however, at thefoot of the hill, where the Court lane crossed the road, led to theold church, the school, and parsonage, in its little garden, shut inby thick yew hedges. Beyond was the blacksmith's shop, morecottages, and Mrs. Appleton's wondrous village warehouse; and thelane, after passing by the handsome old farmhouse of Mr. Harrington, Mr. Mohun's principal tenant, led to a bridge across a clear troutstream, the boundary of the parish of Beechcroft. CHAPTER III--THE NEW PRINCIPLE 'And wilt thou show no more, quoth he, Than doth thy duty bind?I well perceive thy love is small. ' On the Sunday evening which followed Eleanor's wedding, Lilias wassitting next to Emily, and talking in very earnest tones, which aftera time occasioned Claude to look up and say, 'What is all this about?Something remarkably absurd I suspect. ' 'Only a new principle, ' said Emily. 'New!' cried Lily, 'only what must be the feeling of every person ofany warmth of character?' 'Now for it then, ' said Claude. 'No, no, Claude, I really mean it (and Lily sincerely thought shedid). I will not tell you if you are going to laugh. ' 'That depends upon what your principle may chance to be, ' saidClaude. 'What is it, Emily? She will be much obliged to you fortelling. ' 'She only says she cannot bear people to do their duty, and not toact from a feeling of love, ' said Emily. 'That is not fair, ' returned Lily, 'all I say is, that it is betterthat people should act upon love for its own sake, than upon duty forits own sake. ' 'What comes in rhyme with Lily?' said Claude. 'Don't be tiresome, Claude, I really want you to understand me. ' 'Wait till you understand yourself, ' said the provoking brother, 'andlet me finish what I am reading. ' For about a quarter of an hour he was left in peace, while Lily wasbusily employed with a pencil and paper, under the shadow of a book, and at length laid before him the following verses:- 'What is the source of gentleness, The spring of human blessedness, Bringing the wounded spirit healing, The comforts high of heaven revealing, The lightener of each daily care, The wing of hope, the life of prayer, The zest of joy, the balm of sorrow, Bliss of to-day, hope of to-morrow, The glory of the sun's bright beam, The softness of the pale moon stream, The flow'ret's grace, the river's voice, The tune to which the birds rejoice;Without it, vain each learned page, Cold and unfelt each council sage, Heavy and dull each human feature, Lifeless and wretched every creature;In which alone the glory lies, Which value gives to sacrifice?'Tis that which formed the whole creation, Which rests on every generation. Of Paradise the only tokenJust left us, 'mid our treasures broken, Which never can from us be riven, Sure earnest of the joys of Heaven. And which, when earth shall pass away, Shall be our rest on the last day, When tongues shall fail and knowledge cease, And throbbing hearts be all at peace:When faith is sight, and hope is sure, That which alone shall still endureOf earthly joys in heaven above, 'Tis that best gift, eternal Love!' 'What have you there?' said Mr. Mohun, who had come towards themwhile Claude was reading the lines. Taking the paper from Claude'shand, he read it to himself, and then saying, 'Tolerable, Lily; thereare some things to alter, but you may easily make it passable, ' hewent on to his own place, leaving Lilias triumphant. 'Well, Claude, you see I have the great Baron on my side. ' 'I am of the Baron's opinion, ' said Claude, 'the only wonder is thatyou doubted it. ' 'You seemed to say that love was good for nothing. ' 'I said nothing but that Lily has a rhyme. ' 'And saying that I was silly, was equivalent to saying that love wasnothing, ' said Lily. 'O Lily, I hope not, ' said Claude, with a comical air. 'Well, I know I often am foolish, but not in this, ' said Lily; 'I dosay that mere duty is not lovable. ' 'Say it if you will then, ' said Claude, yawning, 'only let me finishthis sermon. ' Lily set herself to reconsider some of her lines: but presentlyEmily left the room, Claude looked up, and Lily exclaimed, 'Now, Claude, let us make a trial of it. ' 'Well, ' said Claude, yawning again, and looking resigned. 'Think how Eleanor went on telling us of duty, duty, duty--nevermaking allowances--never relaxing her stiff rules about trifles--never unbending from her duenna-like dignity--never showing one sparkof enthusiasm--making great sacrifices, but only because she thoughtthem her duty--because it was right--good for herself--only a higherkind of selfishness--not because her feeling prompted her. ' 'Certainly, feeling does not usually prompt people to give up theirlovers for the sake of their brothers and sisters. ' 'She did it because it was her duty, ' said Lily, 'quite as if she didnot care. ' 'I wonder whether Frank thought so, ' said Claude. 'At any rate you will confess that Emily is a much more engagingperson, ' said Lily. 'Certainly, I had rather talk nonsense to her, ' said Claude. 'You feel it, though you will not allow it, ' said Lily. 'Now thinkof Emily's sympathy, and gentleness, and sweet smile, and tell me ifshe is not a complete personification of love. And then Eleanor, unpoetical--never thrown off her balance by grief or joy, with no upsand downs--no enthusiasm--no appreciation of the beautiful--herhighest praise "very right, " and tell me if there can be a betterimage of duty. ' Claude might have had some chance of bringing Lily to her senses, ifhe had allowed that there was some truth in what she had said; but hethought the accusation so unjust in general, that he would not agreeto any part of it, and only answered, 'You have very strange views ofduty and of Eleanor. ' 'Well!' replied Lily, 'I only ask you to watch; Emily and I aredetermined to act on the principle of love, and you will see if hergovernment is not more successful than that of duty. ' Such was the principle upon which Lily intended her sister to governthe household, and to which Emily listened without knowing what shemeant much better than she did herself. Emily's own views, as far asshe possessed any, were to get on as smoothly as she could, and makeeverybody pleased and happy, without much trouble to herself, andalso to make the establishment look a little more as if a Lady Emilyhad lately been its mistress, than had been the case in Eleanor'stime. Mr. Mohun's property was good, but he wished to avoidunnecessary display and expense, and he expected his daughters tofollow out these views, keeping a wise check upon Emily, by lookingover her accounts every Saturday, and turning a deaf ear when shetalked of the age of the drawing-room carpet, and the ugliness of theold chariot. Emily had a good deal on her hands, requiring sense andactivity, but Lilias and Jane were now quite old enough to assisther. Lily however, thought fit to despise all household affairs, andbestowed the chief of her attention on her own department--thevillage school and poor people; and she was also much engrossed byher music and drawing, her German and Italian, and her verse writing. Claude had more power over her than any one else. He was a gentle, amiable boy, of high talent, but disposed to indolence by ill health. In most matters he was, however, victorious over this propensity, which was chiefly visible in his love of easy chairs, and his dislikeof active sports, which made him the especial companion of hissisters. A dangerous illness had occasioned his removal from Eton, and he had since been at home, reading with his cousin Mr. Devereux, and sharing his sisters' amusements. Jane was in her own estimation an important member of theadministration, and in fact, was Emily's chief assistant and deputy. She was very small and trimly made, everything fitted her precisely, and she had tiny dexterous fingers, and active little feet, on whichshe darted about noiselessly and swiftly as an arrow; an oval brownface, bright colour, straight features, and smooth dark hair, brightsparkling black eyes, a little mouth, wearing an arch subdued smile, very white teeth, and altogether the air of a woman in miniature. Brisk, bold, and blithe--ever busy and ever restless, she wasgenerally known by the names of Brownie and Changeling, which werenot inappropriate to her active and prying disposition. Excepting Claude and Emily, the young party were early risers, andLily especially had generally despatched a good deal of businessbefore the eight o'clock breakfast. At nine they went to church, Mr. Devereux having restored the customof daily service, and after this, Mr. Mohun attended to hismultitudinous affairs; Claude went to the parsonage, --Emily to thestoreroom, Lily to the village, the younger girls to the schoolroom, where they were presently joined by Emily. Lily remained in her ownroom till one o'clock, when she joined the others in the schoolroom, and they read aloud some book of history till two, the hour of dinnerfor the younger, and of luncheon for the elder. They then went out, and on their return from evening service, which began at half-pastfour, the little ones had their lessons to learn, and the others werevariously employed till dinner, the time of which was ratheruncertain but always late. The evening passed pleasantly and quicklyaway in reading, work, music, and chatter. As Emily had expected, her first troubles were with Phyllis; called, not the neat handed, by her sisters; Master Phyl, by her brothers;and Miss Tomboy, by the maids. She seemed born to be a trial ofpatience to all concerned with her; yet without many actual faults, except giddiness, restlessness, and unrestrained spirits. In thedrawing-room, schoolroom, and nursery she was continually in scrapes, and so often reproved and repentant, that her loud roaring fits ofcrying were amongst the ordinary noises of the New Court. She wasterribly awkward when under constraint, or in learning any femaleaccomplishment, but swift and ready when at her ease, and glorying inthe boyish achievements of leaping ditches and climbing trees. Hervoice was rather highly pitched, and she had an inveterate habit ofsaying, 'I'll tell you what, ' at the beginning of all her speeches. She was not tall, but strong, square, firm, and active; she had around merry face, a broad forehead, and large bright laughing eyes, of a doubtful shade between gray and brown. Her mouth was wide, hernose turned up, her complexion healthy, but not rosy, and her stiffstraight brown hair was more apt to hang over her eyes, than toremain in its proper place behind her ears. Adeline was very different; her fair and brilliant complexion, herdeep blue eyes and golden ringlets, made her a very lovely littlecreature; her quietness was a relief after her sister's boisterousmerriment, and her dislike of dirt and brambles, continuallycontrasted with poor Phyllis's recklessness of such impediments. Adareadily learnt lessons, which cost Phyllis and her teacher hours oftoil; Ada worked deftly when Phyllis's stiff fingers never willinglytouched a needle; Ada played with a doll, drew on scraps of paper, orput up dissected maps, while Phyllis was in mischief or in the way. A book was the only chance of interesting her; but very few bookstook her fancy enough to occupy her long;--those few, however, sheread over and over again, and when unusual tranquillity reigned inthe drawing-room, she was sure to be found curled up at the top ofthe library steps, reading one of three books--Robinson Crusoe, Little Jack, or German Popular Tales. Then Emily blamed herungraceful position, Jane laughed at her uniform taste, and Lilyproposed some story about modern children, such as Phyllis nevercould like, and the constant speech was repeated, 'Only look at Ada!'till Phyllis considered her sister as a perfect model, and sighedover her own naughtiness. German Popular Tales were a recent introduction of Claude's, forEleanor had carefully excluded all fairy tales from her sisters'library; so great was her dread of works of fiction, that Emily andLilias had never been allowed to read any of the Waverley Novels, excepting Guy Mannering, which their brother Henry had insisted uponreading aloud to them the last time he was at home, and that hadtaken so strong a hold on their imagination, that Eleanor was quitealarmed. One day Mr. Mohun chanced to refer to some passage in Waverley, andon finding that his daughters did not understand him, he expressedgreat surprise at their want of taste. Poor things, ' said Claude, 'they cannot help it; do not you know thatEleanor thinks the Waverley Novels a sort of slow poison? They knowno more of them than their outsides. ' 'Well, the sooner they know the inside the better. ' 'Then may we really read them, papa?' cried Lily. 'And welcome, ' said her father. This permission once given, the young ladies had no idea ofmoderation; Lily's heart and soul were wrapped up in whatever taleshe chanced to be reading--she talked of little else, she neglectedher daily occupations, and was in a kind of trance for about threeweeks. At length she was recalled to her senses by her father'sasking her why she had shown him no drawings lately. Lily hesitatedfor a moment, and then said, 'Papa, I am sorry I was so idle. ' 'Take care, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'let us be able to give a good accountof ourselves when Eleanor comes. ' 'I am afraid, papa, ' said Lily, 'the truth is, that my head has beenso full of Woodstock for the last few days, that I could do nothing. ' 'And before that?' 'The Bride of Lammermoor. ' 'And last week?' 'Waverley. Oh! papa, I am afraid you must be very angry with me. ' 'No, no, Lily, not yet, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'I do not think you quiteknew what an intoxicating draught you had got hold of; I should havecautioned you. Your negligence has not yet been a serious fault, though remember, that it becomes so after warning. ' 'Then, ' said Lily, 'I will just finish Peveril at once, and get itout of my head, and then read no more of the dear books, ' and shegave a deep sigh. 'Lily would take the temperance pledge, on condition that she mightfinish her bottle at a draught, ' said Mr. Mohun. Lily laughed, and looked down, feeling quite unable to offer to giveup Peveril before she had finished it, but her father relieved her, by saying in his kind voice, 'No, no, Lily, take my advice, readthose books, for most of them are very good reading, and very prettyreading, and very useful reading, and you can hardly be called awell-educated person if you do not know them; but read them onlyafter the duties of the day are done--make them your pleasure, but donot make yourself their slave. ' 'Lily, ' said Claude the next morning, as he saw her prepare herdrawing-desk, 'why are you not reading Peveril?' 'You know what papa said yesterday, ' was the answer. 'Oh! but I thought your feelings were with poor Julian in the Tower, 'said Claude. 'My feelings prompt me to sacrifice my pleasure in reading about himto please papa, after he spoke so kindly. ' 'If that is always the effect of your principle, I shall think betterof it, ' said Claude. Lily, whether from her new principle, or her old habits of obedience, never ventured to touch one of her tempters till after five o'clock, but, as she was a very rapid reader, she generally contrived todevour more than a sufficient quantity every evening, so that she didnot enjoy them as much as she would, had she been less voracious inher appetite, and they made her complain grievously of the dulness ofthe latter part of Russell's Modern Europe, which was being read inthe schoolroom, and yawn nearly as much as Phyllis over the'Pragmatic Sanction. ' However, when that book was concluded, andthey began Palgrave's Anglo Saxons, Lily was seized within a suddenhistorical fever. She could hardly wait till one o'clock, before shesettled herself at the schoolroom table with her work, and summonedevery one, however occupied, to listen to the reading. CHAPTER IV--HONEST PHYL 'MultiplicationIs a vexation. ' It was a bright and beautiful afternoon in March, the song of theblackbird and thrush, and the loud chirp of the titmouse, camemerrily through the schoolroom window, mixed with the sounds of happyvoices in the garden; the western sun shone brightly in, and tingedthe white wainscoted wall with yellow light; the cat sat in thewindow-seat, winking at the sun, and sleepily whisking her tail forthe amusement of her kitten, which was darting to and fro, andpatting her on the head, in the hope of rousing her to some moreactive sport. But in the midst of all these joyous sights and sounds, was heard adolorous voice repeating, 'three and four are--three and four are--ohdear! they are--seven, no, but I do not think it is a four after all, is it not a one? Oh dear!' And on the floor lay Phyllis, her backto the window, kicking her feet slowly up and down, and yawning andgroaning over her slate. Presently the door opened, and Claude looked in, and very nearlydeparted again instantly, for Phyllis at that moment made a horriblesqueaking with her slate-pencil, the sound above all others that hedisliked. He, however, stopped, and asked where Emily was. 'Out in the garden, ' answered Phyllis, with a tremendous yawn. 'What are you doing here, looking so piteous?' said Claude. 'My sum, ' said Phyllis. 'Is this your time of day for arithmetic?' asked he. 'No, ' said Phyllis, 'only I had not done it by one o'clock to-day, and Lily said I must finish after learning my lessons for to-morrow, but I do not think I shall ever have done, it is so hard. Oh!'(another stretch and a yawn, verging on a howl), 'and Jane and Adaare sowing the flower-seeds. Oh dear! Oh dear!' and Phyllis's facecontracted, in readiness to cry. 'And is that the best position for doing sums?' said Claude. 'I was obliged to lie down here to get out of the way of Ada's sum, 'said Phyllis, getting up. 'Get out of the way of Ada's sum?' repeated Claude. 'Yes, she left it on the table where I was sitting, where I could seeit, and it is this very one, so I must not look at it; I wish I coulddo sums as fast as she can. ' 'Could you not have turned the other side of the slate upwards?' saidClaude, smiling. 'So I could!' said Phyllis, as if a new light had broken in upon her. 'But then I wanted to be out of sight of pussy, for I could not thinka bit, while the kitten was at play so prettily, and I kicked myheels to keep from hearing the voices in the garden, for it does makeme so unhappy!' Some good-natured brothers would have told the little girl not tomind, and sent her out to enjoy herself, but Claude respectedPhyllis's honesty too much to do so, and he said, 'Well, Phyl, let mesee the sum, and we will try if we cannot conquer it between us. ' Phyllis's face cleared up in an instant, as she brought the slate toher brother. 'What is this?' said he; 'I do not understand. ' 'Compound Addition, ' said Phyllis, 'I did one with Emily yesterday, and this is the second. ' 'Oh! these are marks between the pounds, shillings, and pence, ' saidClaude, 'I took them for elevens; well, I do not wonder at yourtroubles, I could not do this sum as it is set. ' 'Could not you, indeed?' cried Phyllis, quite delighted. 'No, indeed, ' said Claude. 'Suppose we set it again, more clearly;but how is this? When I was in the schoolroom we always had a spongefastened to the slate. ' 'Yes, ' said Phyllis, 'I had one before Eleanor went, but my stringbroke, and I lost it, and Emily always forgets to give me another. Iwill run and wash the slate in the nursery; but how shall we knowwhat the sum is?' 'Why, I suppose I may look at Ada's slate, though you must not, ' saidClaude, laughing to himself at poor little honest simplicity, as heapplied himself to cut a new point to her very stumpy slate-pencil, and she scampered away, and returned in a moment with her cleanslate. 'Oh, how nice and fresh it all looks!' said she as he set down theclear large figures. 'I cannot think how you can do it so evenly. ' 'Now, Phyl, do not let the pencil scream if you can help it. ' Claude found that Phyllis's great difficulty was with the farthings. She could not understand the fractional figures, and only knew thusfar, that 'Emily said it never meant four. ' Claude began explaining, but his first attempt was far tooscientific. Phyllis gave a desponding sigh, looking so mystified, that he began to believe that she was hopelessly dull, and to repentof having offered to help her; but at last, by means of dividing acard into four pieces, he succeeded in making her comprehend him, andher eyes grew bright with the pleasure of understanding. Even then the difficulties were not conquered, her addition was veryslow, and dividing by twelve and twenty seemed endless work; atlength the last figure of the pounds was set down, the slate wascompared with Adeline's, and the sum pronounced to be right. Phylliscapered up to the kitten and tossed it up in the air in her joy, thencoming slowly back to her brother, she said with a strange, awkwardair, hanging down her head, 'Claude, I'll tell you what--' 'Well, what?' said Claude. 'I should like to kiss you. ' Then away she bounded, clattered down stairs, and flew across thelawn to tell every one she met that Claude had helped her to do hersum, and that it was quite right. 'Did you expect that it would be too hard for him, Phyl?' said Jane, laughing. 'No, ' said Phyllis, 'but he said he could not do it as it was set. ' 'And whose fault was that?' said Jane. 'Oh! but he showed me how to set it better, ' said Phyllis, 'and hesaid that when he learnt the beginning of fractions, he thought themas hard as I do. ' 'Fractions!' said Jane, 'you do not fancy you have come to fractionsyet! Fine work you will make of them when you do!' In the evening, as soon as the children were gone to bed, Jane took apaper out of her work-basket, saying, 'There, Emily, is my account ofPhyl's scrapes through this whole week; I told you I should writethem all down. ' 'How kind!' muttered Claude. Regardless of her brother, who had not looked up from his book, Janebegan reading her list of poor Phyllis's misadventures. 'On Mondayshe tore her frock by climbing a laurel-tree, to look at ablackbird's nest. ' 'I gave her leave, ' said Emily. 'Rachel had ordered her not toclimb; and she was crying because she could not see the nest that WatGreenwood had found. ' 'On Tuesday she cried over her French grammar, and tore a leaf out ofthe old spelling-book. ' 'That was nearly out before, ' said Emily, 'Maurice and Redgie spoiltthat long ago. ' 'I do not know of anything on Wednesday, but on Thursday she threwAda down the steps out of the nursery. ' 'Oh! that accounts for the dreadful screaming that I heard, ' saidClaude; 'I forgot to ask the meaning of it. ' 'I am sure it was Phyl that was the most dismayed, and cried theloudest, ' said Lily. 'That she always does, ' said Jane. 'On Friday we had an uproar inthe schoolroom about her hemming, and on Saturday she tumbled into awet ditch, and tore her bonnet in the brambles; on Sunday, shetwisted her ancles together at church. ' 'Well, there I did chance to observe her, ' said Lily, 'there seemedto be a constant struggle between her ancles and herself, they werecontinually coming lovingly together, but were separated the nextmoment. ' 'And to-day this sum, ' said Jane; 'seven scrapes in one week! Ireally am of opinion, as Rachel says when she is angry, that schoolis the best place for her. ' 'I think so too, ' said Claude. 'I do not know, ' said Emily, 'she is very troublesome, but--' 'Oh, Claude!' cried Lily, 'you do not mean that you would have thatpoor dear merry Master Phyl sent to school, she would pine away likea wild bird in a cage; but papa will never think of such a thing. ' 'If I thought of her being sent to school, ' said Claude, 'it would beto shield her from--the rule of love. ' 'Oh! you think we are too indulgent, ' said Emily; 'perhaps we are, but you know we cannot torment a poor child all day long. ' 'If you call the way you treat her indulgent, I should like to knowwhat you call severe. ' 'What do you mean, Claude?' said Emily. 'I call your indulgence something like the tender mercies of thewicked, ' said Claude. 'On a fine day, when every one is taking theirpleasure in the garden, to shut an unhappy child up in theschoolroom, with a hard sum that you have not taken the trouble toteach her how to do, and late in the day, when no one's head is clearfor difficult arithmetic--' 'Hard sum do you call it?' said Jane. 'Indeed I explained it to her, ' said Emily. 'And well she understood you, ' said Claude. 'She might have learnt if she had attended, ' said Emily; 'Adaunderstood clearly, with the same explanation. ' 'And do not you be too proud of the effect of your instructions, Claude, ' said Jane, 'for when honest Phyl came into the garden, shedid not know farthings from fractions. ' 'And pray, Mrs. Senior Wrangler, ' said Claude, 'will you tell mewhere is the difference between a half-penny and half a penny?' After a good laugh at Jane's expense, Emily went on, 'Now, Claude, Iwill tell you how it happened; Phyllis is so slow, and dawdles overher lessons so long, that it is quite a labour to hear her; Ada isquick enough, but if you were to hear Phyllis say one column ofspelling, you would know what misery is. Then before she has halffinished, the clock strikes one, it is time to read, and the lessonsare put off till the afternoon. I certainly did not know that shewas about her sum all that time, or I would have sent her out as Idid on Saturday. ' 'And the reading at one is as fixed as fate, ' said Claude. 'Oh, no!' said Jane, 'when we were about old "Russell, " we did notbegin till nearly two, but since we have been reading this book, Lilywill never let us rest till we begin; she walks up and down, andhurries and worries and--' 'Yes, ' said Emily, in a murmuring voice, 'we should do better if Lilywould not make such a point of that one thing; but she never mindswhat else is cut short, and she never thinks of helping me. It neverseems to enter her head how much I have on my hands, and no one doesanything to help me. ' 'Oh, Emily! you never asked me, ' said Lily. 'I knew you would not like it, ' said Emily. 'No, it is not my way tocomplain, people may see how to help me if they choose to do it. ' 'Lily, Lily, take care, ' said Claude, in a low voice; 'is not therule you admire, the rule of love of yourself?' 'Oh, Claude!' returned Lily, 'do not say so, you know it was Emilythat I called an example of it, not myself, and see how forbearingshe has been. Now I see that I am really wanted, I will help. Itmust be love, not duty, that calls me to the schoolroom, for no oneever said that was my province. ' 'Poor duty! you give it a very narrow boundary. ' Lilias, who, to say the truth, had been made more careful of her ownconduct, by the wish to establish her principle, really betookherself to the schoolroom for an hour every morning, with a desire tobe useful. She thought she did great things in undertaking thosetasks of Phyllis's which Emily most disliked. But Lilias was neitherpatient nor humble enough to be a good teacher, though she couldexplain difficult rules in a sensible way. She could not, or wouldnot, understand the difference between dulness and inattention; hersharp hasty manner would frighten away all her pupil's powers ofcomprehension; she sometimes fell into the great error of scolding, when Phyllis was doing her best, and the poor child's tears flowedmore frequently than ever. Emily's gentle manner made her instructions far more agreeable, though she was often neither clear nor correct in her explanations;she was contented if the lessons were droned through in any manner, so long as she could say they were done; she disliked a disturbance, and overlooked or half corrected mistakes rather than cause a cry. Phyllis naturally preferred being taught by her, and Lily was vexedand unwilling to persevere. She went to the schoolroom expecting tobe annoyed, created vexation for herself, and taught in anything buta loving spirit. Still, however, the thought of Claude, and the wishto do more than her duty, kept her constant to her promise, and herlove of seeing things well done was useful, though sadlycounterbalanced by her deficiency in temper and patience. CHAPTER V--VILLAGE GOSSIP 'The deeds we do, the words we say, Into still air they seem to fleet;We count them past, But they shall last. ' Soon after Easter, Claude went to Oxford. He was much missed by hissisters, who wanted him to carve for them at luncheon, to escort themwhen they rode or walked, to hear their music, talk over their books, advise respecting their drawings, and criticise Lily's verses. A newsubject of interest was, however, arising for them in the neighbourswho were shortly expected to arrive at Broom Hill, a house which hadlately been built in a hamlet about a mile and a half from the NewCourt. These new comers were the family of a barrister of the name ofWeston, who had taken the house for the sake of his wife, her healthhaving been much injured by her grief at the loss of two daughters inthe scarlet fever. Two still remained, a grown-up young lady, and agirl of eleven years old, and the Miss Mohuns learnt with greatdelight that they should have near neighbours of their own age. Theyhad never had any young companions as young ladies were scarce amongtheir acquaintance, and they had not seen their cousin, Lady FlorenceDevereux, since they were children. It was with great satisfaction that Emily and Lilias set out withtheir father to make the first visit, and they augured well fromtheir first sight of Mrs. Weston and her daughters. Mrs. Weston wasalone, her daughters being out walking, and Lily spent the greaterpart of the visit in silence, though her mind was made up in thefirst ten minutes, as she told Emily on leaving the house, 'that MissWeston's tastes were in complete accordance with her own. ' 'Rapid judgment, ' said Emily. 'Love before first sight. But Mrs. Weston is a very sweet person. ' 'And, Emily, did you see the music-book open at "Angels ever brightand fair?" If Miss Weston sings that as I imagine it!' 'How could you see what was in the music-book at the other end of theroom? I only saw it was a beautiful piano. And what handsomefurniture! it made me doubly ashamed of our faded carpet and chairs, almost as old as the house itself. ' 'Emily!' said Lily, in her most earnest tones, 'I would not changeone of those dear old chairs for a king's ransom!' The visit was in a short time returned, and though it was but aformal morning call, Lilias found her bright expectations realised bythe sweetness of Alethea Weston's manners, and the next time they metit was a determined thing in her mind that, as Claude would havesaid, they had sworn an eternal friendship. She had the pleasure of lionising the two sisters over the Old Court, telling all she knew and all she imagined about the siege, SirMaurice Mohun, and his faithful servant, Walter Greenwood. 'MissWeston, ' said she in conclusion, 'have you read Old Mortality?' 'Yes, ' said Alethea, amused at the question. 'Because they say I am as bad as Lady Margaret about the king'svisit. ' 'I have not heard the story often enough to think so, ' said MissWeston, 'I will warn you if I do. ' In the meantime Phyllis and Adeline were equally charmed withMarianne, though shocked at her ignorance of country manners, and, indeed, Alethea was quite diverted with Lily's pity at the discoverythat she had never before been in the country in the spring. 'What, 'she cried, 'have you never seen the tufts of red on the hazel, northe fragrant golden palms, and never heard the blackbird rushtwittering out of the hedge, nor the first nightingale's note, northe nightjar's low chirr, nor the chattering of the rooks? O what astore of sweet memories you have lost! Why, how can you understandthe beginning of the Allegro?' Both the Miss Westons had so much pleasure in making acquaintancewith 'these delights, ' as quite to compensate for their formerignorance, and soon the New Court rang with their praises. Mr. Mohunthought very highly of the whole family, and rejoiced in such societyfor his daughters, and they speedily became so well acquainted, thatit was the ordinary custom of the Westons to take luncheon at the NewCourt on Sunday. On her side, however, Alethea Weston felt somereluctance to become intimate with the young ladies of the New Court. She was pleased with Emily's manners, interested by Lily'searnestness and simplicity, and thought Jane a clever and amusinglittle creature, but even their engaging qualities gave her pain, byreminding her of the sisters she had lost, or by making her think howthey would have liked them. A country house and neighbours likethese had been the objects of many visions of their childhood, andnow all the sweet sights and sounds around her only made her thinkhow she should have enjoyed them a year ago. She felt almost jealousof Marianne's liking for her new friends, lest they should steal herheart from Emma and Lucy; but knowing that these were morbid andunthankful feelings, she struggled against them, and though shemissed her sisters even more than when her mother and Marianne werein greater need of her attention, she let no sign of her sorrowfulfeeling appear, and seeing that Marianne was benefited in health andspirits, by intercourse with young companions, she gave no hint ofher disinclination to join in the walks and other amusements of theMiss Mohuns. She also began to take interest in the poor people. By Mrs. Weston'srequest, Mr. Devereux had pointed out the families which were most inneed of assistance, and Alethea made it her business to find out thebest way of helping them. She visited the village school withLilias, and when requested by her and by the Rector to give her aidin teaching, she did not like to refuse what might be a duty, thoughshe felt very diffident of her powers of instruction. Marianne, likePhyllis and Adeline, became a Sunday scholar, and was catechised withthe others in church. Both Mr. Mohun and his nephew thought veryhighly of the family, and the latter was particularly glad that Lilyshould have some older person to assist her in those parish matterswhich he left partly in her charge. Mr. Devereux had been Rector of Beechcroft about a year and a half, and had hitherto been much liked. His parishioners had known himfrom a boy, and were interested about him, and though very young, there was something about him that gained their respect. Almost allhis plans were going on well, and things were, on the whole, in asatisfactory state, though no one but Lilias expected even CousinRobert to make a Dreamland of Beechcroft, and there were days when helooked worn and anxious, and the girls suspected that some one wasbehaving ill. 'Have you a headache, Robert?' asked Emily, a few evenings beforeWhit-Sunday, 'you have not spoken three words this evening. ' 'Not at all, thank you, ' said Mr. Devereux, smiling, 'you need notthink to make me your victim, now you have no Claude to nurse. ' 'Then if it is not bodily, it is mental, ' said Lily. 'I am in a difficulty about the christening of Mrs. Naylor's child. ' 'Naylor the blacksmith?' said Jane. 'I thought it was high time forit to be christened. It must be six weeks old. ' 'Is it not to be on Whit-Sunday?' said Lily, disconsolately. 'Oh no! Mrs. Naylor will not hear of bringing the child on a Sunday, and I could hardly make her think it possible to bring it on Whit-Tuesday. ' 'Why did you not insist?' said Lily. 'Perhaps I might, if there was no other holy day at hand, or if therewas not another difficulty, a point on which I cannot give way. ' 'Oh! the godfathers and godmothers, ' said Lily, 'does she want thatcharming brother of hers, Edward Gage?' 'Yes, and what is worse, Edward Gage's dissenting wife, and DickRodd, who shows less sense of religion than any one in the parish, and has never been confirmed. ' 'Could you make them hear reason?' 'They were inclined to be rather impertinent, ' said Mr. Devereux. 'Old Mrs. Gage--' 'Oh!' interrupted Jane, 'there is no hope for you if the sour Gage isin the pie. ' 'The sour Gage told me people were not so particular in her youngerdays, and perhaps they should not have the child christened at all, since I was such a CONTRARY gentleman. Tom Naylor was not at home, Iam to see him to-morrow. ' 'Well, I do not think Tom Naylor is as bad as the rest, ' said Lily;'he would have been tolerable, if he had married any one but MarthaGage. ' 'Yes, he is an open good-natured fellow, and I have hopes of makingan impression on him. ' 'If not, ' said Lily, 'I hope papa will take away his custom. ' 'What?' said Mr. Mohun, who always heard any mention of himself. Mr. Devereux repeated his history, and discussed the matter with hisuncle, only once interrupted by an inquiry from Jane about thechild's name, a point on which she could gain no intelligence. Hisreport the next day was not decidedly unfavourable, though hescarcely hoped the christening would be so soon as Tuesday. He hadnot seen the father, and suspected he had purposely kept out of theway. Jane, disappointed that the baby's name remained a mystery, resolvedto set out on a voyage of discovery. Accordingly, as soon as hercousin was gone, she asked Emily if she had not been saying that Adawanted some more cotton for her sampler. 'Yes, ' said Emily, 'but I am not going to walk all the way to Mrs. Appleton's this afternoon. ' 'Shall I go?' said Jane. 'Ada, run and fetch your pattern. ' Emilyand Ada were much obliged by Jane's disinterested offer, and in aquarter of an hour Ada's thoughts and hands were busy in Mrs. Appleton's drawer of many-coloured cotton. 'What a pity this is about Mrs. Naylor's baby, ' began Jane. 'It is a sad story indeed, Miss Jane, I am sure it must be grievousto Mr. Devereux, ' said Mrs. Appleton. 'Betsy Wall said he had beenthere three times about it. ' 'Ah! we all know that Walls have ears, ' said Jane; 'how that Betsydoes run about gossiping!' 'Yes, Miss Jane, there she bides all day long at the stile gaping;not a stitch does she do for her mother; I cannot tell what is to bethe end of it. ' 'And do you know what the child's name is to be, Mrs. Appleton?' 'No, Miss Jane, ' answered Mrs. Appleton. 'Betsy did say they talkedof naming him after his uncle, Edward Gage, only Mr. Devereux wouldnot let him stand. ' 'No, ' said Jane. 'Since he married that dissenting wife he nevercomes near the church; he is too much like the sour Gage, as we callhis mother, to be good for much. But, after all, he is not so bad asDick Rodd, who has never been confirmed, and has never shown anysense of religion in his life. ' 'Yes, Miss, Dick Rodd is a sad fellow: did you hear what a row therewas at the Mohun Arms last week, Miss Jane?' 'Aye, ' said Jane, 'and papa says he shall certainly turn Dick Roddout of the house as soon as the lease is out, and it is only tillnext Michaelmas twelve-months. ' 'Yes, Miss, as I said to Betsy Wall, it would be more for theirinterest to behave well. ' 'Indeed it would, ' said Jane. 'Robert and papa were talking ofhaving their horses shod at Stoney Bridge, if Tom Naylor will be soobstinate, only papa does not like to give Tom up if he can help it, because his father was so good, and Tom would not be half so bad ifhe had not married one of the Gages. ' 'Here is Cousin Robert coming down the lane, ' said Ada, who hadchosen her cotton, and was gazing from the door. Jane gave a violentstart, took a hurried leave of Mrs. Appleton, and set out towardshome; she could not avoid meeting her cousin. 'Oh, Jenny! have you been enjoying a gossip with your great ally?'said he. 'We have only been buying pink cotton, ' said Ada, whose consciencewas clear. 'Ah!' said Mr. Devereux, 'Beechcroft affairs would soon stand still, without those useful people, Mrs. Appleton, Miss Wall, and Miss JaneMohun, ' and he passed on. Jane felt her face colouring, his freedomfrom suspicion made her feel very guilty, but the matter soon passedout of her mind. Blithe Whit-Sunday came, the five Miss Mohuns appeared in whitefrocks, new bonnets were plenty, the white tippets of the children, and the bright shawls of the mothers, made the village look gay; WatGreenwood stuck a pink between his lips, and the green boughs ofhazel and birch decked the dark oak carvings in the church. And Whit-Monday came. At half-past ten the rude music of the band ofthe Friendly Society came pealing from the top of the hill, thenappeared two tall flags, crowned with guelder roses and peonies, thenthe great blue drum, the clarionet blown by red-waist-coated and red-faced Mr. Appleton, the three flutes and the triangle, all at theirloudest, causing some of the spectators to start, and others todance. Then behold the whole procession of labourers, in white roundfrocks, blue ribbons in their hats, and tall blue staves in theirhands. In the rear, the confused mob, women and children, cheerfulfaces and mirthful sounds everywhere. These were hushed as the flagswere lowered to pass under the low-roofed gateway of the churchyard, and all was still, except the trampling of feet on the stone floor. Then the service began, the responses were made in full and heartytones, almost running into a chant, the old 133rd Psalm was sung asloudly and as badly as usual, a very short but very earnest sermonwas preached, and forth came the troop again. Mr. Devereux always dined with the club in a tent, at the top of thehill, but his uncle made him promise to come to a second dinner atthe New Court in the evening. 'Robert looks anxious, ' said Lily, as she parted with him after theevening service; 'I am afraid something is going wrong. ' 'Trust me for finding out what it is, ' said Jane. 'No, no, Jenny, do not ask him, ' said Lily; 'if he tells us torelieve his mind, I am very glad he should make friends of us, but donot ask. Let us talk of other things to put it out of his head, whatever it may be. ' Jane soon heard more of the cause of the depression of her cousin'sspirits than even she had any desire to do. After dinner, the girlswere walking in the garden, enjoying the warmth of the evening, whenMr. Devereux came up to her and drew her aside from the rest, tellingher that he wished to speak to her. 'Oh!' said Jane, 'when am I to meet you at school again? You nevertold me which chapter I was to prepare; I cannot think what wouldbecome of your examinations if it was not for me, you could not getan answer to one question in three. ' 'That was not what I wished to speak to you about, ' said Mr. Devereux. 'What had you been saying to Mrs. Appleton when I met youat her door on Saturday?' The colour rushed into Jane's cheeks, but she replied withouthesitation, 'Oh! different things, La pluie et le beau temps, just asusual. ' 'Cannot you remember anything more distinctly?' 'I always make a point of forgetting what I talk about, ' said Jane, trying to laugh. 'Now, Jane, let me tell you what has happened in the village--as Icame down the hill from the club-dinner--' 'Oh, ' said Jane, hoping to make a diversion, 'Wat Greenwood came backabout a quarter of an hour ago, and he--' Mr. Devereux proceeded without attending to her, 'As I came down thehill from the club-dinner, old Mrs. Gage came out of Naylor's house, and her daughter with her, in great anger, calling me to account forhaving spoken of her in a most unbecoming way, calling her the sourGage, and trying to set the Squire against them. ' 'Oh, that abominable chattering woman!' Jane exclaimed; 'and BetsyWall too, I saw her all alive about something. What a nuisance suchpeople are!' 'In short, ' said Mr. Devereux, 'I heard an exaggerated account of allthat passed here on the subject the other day. Now, Jane, am I doingyou any injustice in thinking that it must have been through you thatthis history went abroad into the village?' 'Well, ' said Jane, 'I am sure you never told us that it was anysecret. When a story is openly told to half a dozen people theycannot be expected to keep it to themselves. ' 'I spoke uncharitably and incautiously, ' said he, 'I am willing toconfess, but it is nevertheless my duty to set before you the greatmatter that this little fire has kindled. ' 'Why, it cannot have done any great harm, can it?' asked Jane, theagitation of her voice and laugh betraying that she was not quite socareless as she wished to appear. 'Only the sour Gage will ferment alittle. ' 'Oh, Jane! I did not expect that you would treat this matter solightly. ' 'But tell me, what harm has it done?' asked she. 'Do you consider it nothing that the poor child should remainunbaptized, that discord should be brought into the parish, thatanger should be on the conscience of your neighbour, that he shouldbe driven from the church?' 'Is it as bad as that?' said Jane. 'We do not yet see the full extent of the mischief our idle words mayhave done, ' said Mr. Devereux. 'But it is their own fault, if they will do wrong, ' said Jane; 'theyought not to be in a rage, we said nothing but the truth. ' 'I wish I was clear of the sin, ' said her cousin. 'And after all, ' said Jane, 'I cannot see that I was much to blame; Ionly talked to Mrs. Appleton, as I have done scores of times, and noone minded it. You only laughed at me on Saturday, and papa andEleanor never scolded me. ' 'You cannot say that no one has ever tried to check you, ' said theRector. 'And how was I to know that that mischief-maker would repeat it?'said Jane. 'I do not mean to say, ' said Mr. Devereux, 'that you actuallycommitted a greater sin than you may often have done, by talking in away which you knew would displease your father. I know we are tooapt to treat lightly the beginnings of evil, until some sudden stingmakes us feel what a serpent we have been fostering. Think this awarning, pray that the evil we dread may be averted; but should itensue, consider it as a punishment sent in mercy. It will be betterfor you not to come to school to-morrow; instead of the referencesyou were to have looked out, I had rather you read over in a humblespirit the Epistle of St. James. ' Jane's tears by this time were flowing fast, and finding that she nolonger attempted to defend herself, her cousin said no more. Hejoined the others, and Jane, escaping to her own room, gave way to apassionate fit of crying. Whether her tears were of true sorrow orof anger she could not have told herself; she was still sobbing onher bed when the darkness came on, and her two little sisters came inon their way to bed to wish her good-night. 'Oh, Jane, Jane! what is the matter? have you been naughty?' askedthe little girls in great amazement. 'Never mind, ' said Jane, shortly; 'good-night, ' and she sat up andwiped away her tears. The children still lingered. 'Go away, do, 'said she. 'Is Robert gone?' 'No, ' said Phyllis, 'he is reading the newspaper. ' Phyllis and Adeline left the room, and Jane walked up and down, considering whether she should venture to go down to tea; perhaps hercousin had waited till the little girls had gone before he spoke toMr. Mohun, or perhaps her red eyes might cause questions on hertroubles; she was still in doubt when Lily opened the door, a lamp inher hand. 'My dear Jenny, are you here? Ada told me you were crying, what isthe matter?' 'Then you have not heard?' said Jane. 'Only Robert began just now, "Poor Jenny, she has been the cause ofgetting us into a very awkward scrape, " but then Ada came to tell meabout you, and I came away. ' 'Yes, ' said Jane, angrily, 'he will throw all the blame upon me, whenI am sure it was quite as much the fault of that horrible Mrs. Appleton, and papa will be as angry as possible. ' 'But what has happened?' asked Lily. 'Oh! that chatterer, that worst of gossipers, has gone and told theNaylors and Mrs. Gage all we said about them the other day. ' 'So you told Mrs. Appleton?' said Lily; 'so that was the reason youwere so obliging about the marking thread. Oh, Jane, you had bettersay no more about Mrs. Appleton! And has it done much mischief?' 'Oh! Mrs. Gage "pitched" into Robert, as Wat Greenwood would say, and the christening is off again. ' 'Jane, this is frightful, ' said Lily; 'I do not wonder that you areunhappy. ' 'Well, I daresay it will all come right again, ' said Jane; 'therewill only be a little delay, papa and Robert will bring them to theirsenses in time. ' 'Suppose the baby was to die, ' said Lily. 'Oh, it will not die, ' said Jane, 'a great fat healthy thing likethat likely to die indeed!' 'I cannot make you out, Jane, ' said Lily. 'If I had done such athing, I do not think I could have a happy minute till it was setright. ' 'Well, I told you I was very sorry, ' said Jane, 'only I wish theywould not all be so hard upon me. Robert owns that he should nothave said such things if he did not wish them to be repeated. ' 'Does he?' cried Lily. 'How exactly like Robert that is, to ownhimself in fault when he is obliged to blame others. Jane, how couldyou hear him say such things and not be overcome with shame? Andthen to turn it against him! Oh, Jane, I do not think I can talk toyou any more. ' 'I do not mean to say it was not very good of him, ' said Jane. 'Good of him--what a word!' cried Lily. 'Well, good-night, I cannotbear to talk to you now. Shall I say anything for you downstairs?' 'Oh, tell papa and Robert I am very sorry, ' said Jane. 'I shall notcome down again, you may leave the lamp. ' On her way downstairs in the dark Lilias was led, by the example ofher cousin, to reflect that she was not without some share in themischief that had been done; the words which report imputed to Mr. Devereux were mostly her own or Jane's. There was no want of candourin Lily, and as soon as she entered the drawing-room she wentstraight up to her father and cousin, and began, 'Poor Jenny is veryunhappy; she desired me to tell you how sorry she is. But I reallybelieve that I did the mischief, Robert. It was I who said thosefoolish things that were repeated as if you had said them. It is agrievous affair, but who could have thought that we were doing somuch harm?' 'Perhaps it may not do any, ' said Emily. 'The Naylors have a greatdeal of good about them. ' 'They must have more than I suppose, if they can endure what Robertis reported to have said of them, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'What did you say, Robert, ' said Lily, 'did you not tell them all wassaid by your foolish young cousins?' 'I agreed with you too much to venture on contradicting the report;you know I could not even deny having called Mrs. Gage by that name. ' 'Oh, if I could do anything to mend it!' cried Lily. But wishes had no effect. Lilias and Jane had to mourn over the fullextent of harm done by hasty words. After the more respectable menhad left the Mohun Arms on the evening of Whit-Monday, the rest gaveway to unrestrained drunkenness, not so much out of reckless self-indulgence, as to defy the clergyman and the squire. They came tothe front of the parsonage, yelled and groaned for some time, andended by breaking down the gate. This conduct was repeated on Tuesday, and on many Saturdaysfollowing; some young trees in the churchyard were cut, and abuse ofthe parson written on the walls the idle young men taking thisopportunity to revenge their own quarrels, caused by Mr. Devereux'sformer efforts for their reformation. On Sunday several children were absent from school; all thosebelonging to Farmer Gage's labourers were taken away, and one man wasturned off by the farmers for refusing to remove his child. Now that the war was carried on so openly, Mr. Mohun considered ithis duty to withdraw his custom from one who chose to set his pastorat defiance. He went to the forge, and had a long conversation withthe blacksmith, but though he was listened to with respect, it wasnot easy to make much impression on an ignorant, hot-tempered man, who had been greatly offended, and prided himself on showing that hewould support the quarrel of his wife and her relations against bothsquire and parson; and though Mr. Mohun did persuade him to own thatit was wrong to be at war with the clergyman, the effect of hisarguments was soon done away with by the Gages, and no ground wasgained. Mr. Gage's farm was unhappily at no great distance from a dissentingchapel and school, in the adjoining parish of Stoney Bridge, andthither the farmer and blacksmith betook themselves, with many of thecottagers of Broom Hill. One alone of the family of Tom Naylor refused to join him in hisdissent, and that was his sister, Mrs. Eden, a widow, with one littlegirl about seven years old, who, though in great measure dependentupon him for subsistence, knew her duty too well to desert thechurch, or to take her child from school, and continued her evencourse, toiling hard for bread, and uncomplaining, though often munchdistressed. All the rest of the parish who were not immediatelyunder Mr. Mohun's influence were in a sad state of confusion. Jane was grieved at heart, but would not confess it, and Lilias wasso restless and unhappy, that Emily was quite weary of herlamentations. Her best comforter was Miss Weston, who patientlylistened to her, sighed with her over the evident sorrow of theRector, and the mischief in the parish, and proved herself a truefriend, by never attempting to extenuate her fault. CHAPTER VI--THE NEW FRIEND 'Maidens should be mild and meek, Swift to hear, and slow to speak. ' Miss Weston had been much interested by what she heard respectingMrs. Eden, and gladly discovered that she was just the person whocould assist in some needlework which was required at Broom Hill. She asked Lilias to tell her where to find her cottage, and Lilyreplied by an offer to show her the way; Miss Weston hesitated, thinking that perhaps in the present state of things Lily had rathernot see her; but her doubts were quickly removed by this speech, 'Iwant to see her particularly. I have been there three times withoutfinding her. I think I can set this terrible matter right byspeaking to her. ' Accordingly, Lilias and Phyllis set out with Alethea and Marianne oneafternoon to Mrs. Eden's cottage, which stood at the edge of a longfield at the top of the hill. Very fast did Lily talk all the way, but she grew more silent as she came to the cottage, and knocked atthe door; it was opened by Mrs. Eden herself, a pale, but ratherpretty young woman, with a remarkable gentle and pleasing face, and amanner which was almost ladylike, although her hands were freshlytaken out of the wash-tub. She curtsied low, and coloured at thesight of Lilias, set chairs for the visitors, and then returned toher work. 'Oh! Mrs. Eden, ' Lily began, intending to make her explanation, butfeeling confused, thought it better to wait till her friend'sbusiness was settled, and altered her speech into 'Miss Weston iscome to speak to you about some work. ' Mrs. Eden looked quite relieved, and Alethea proceeded to appoint theday for her coming to Broom Hill, and arrange some small matters, during which Lily not only settled what to say, but worked herselfinto a fit of impatience at the length of Alethea's instructions. When they were concluded, however, and there was a pause, her wordsfailed her, and she wished that she was miles from the cottage, orthat she had never mentioned her intentions. At last she stammeredout, 'Oh! Mrs. Eden--I wanted to speak to you about--about Mr. Devereux and your brother. ' Mrs. Eden bent over her wash-tub, Miss Weston examined the shells onthe chimney-piece, Marianne and Phyllis listened with all their ears, and poor Lily was exceedingly uncomfortable. 'I wished to tell you--I do not think--I do not mean--It was not hissaying. Indeed, he did not say those things about the Gages. ' 'I told my brother I did not think Mr. Devereux would go for to saysuch a thing, ' said Mrs. Eden, as much confused as Lily. 'Oh! that was right, Mrs. Eden. The mischief was all my making andJane's. We said those foolish things, and they were repeated as ifit was he. Oh! do tell your brother so, Mrs. Eden. It was very goodof you to think it was not Cousin Robert. Pray tell Tom Naylor. Icannot bear that things should go on in this dreadful way. ' 'Indeed, Miss, I am very sorry, ' said Mrs. Eden. 'But, Mrs Eden, I am sure that would set it right again, ' said Lily, 'are not you? I would do anything to have that poor babychristened. ' Lily's confidence melted away as she saw that Mrs. Eden's tears werefalling fast, and she ended with, 'Only tell them, and we shall seewhat will happen. ' 'Very well, Miss Lilias, ' said Mrs. Eden. 'I am very sorry. ' 'Let us hope that time and patience will set things right, ' said MissWeston, to relieve the embarrassment of both parties. 'Your brothermust soon see that Mr. Devereux only wishes to do his duty. ' Alethea skilfully covered Lily's retreat, and the party took leave ofMrs. Eden, and turned into their homeward path. Lily at first seemed disposed to be silent, and Miss Weston thereforeamused herself with listening to the chatter of the little girls asthey walked on before them. 'There are only thirty-six days to the holidays, ' said Phyllis; 'Adaand I keep a paper in the nursery with the account of the number ofdays. We shall be so glad when Claude, and Maurice, and Redgie comehome. ' 'Are they not very boisterous?' said Marianne. 'Not Maurice, ' said Phyllis. 'No, indeed, ' said Lily, 'Maurice is like nobody else. He takes upsome scientific pursuit each time he comes home, and cares fornothing else for some time, and then quite forgets it. He is an odd-looking boy too, thick and sturdy, with light flaxen hair, and dark, overhanging eyebrows, and he makes the most extraordinary grimaces. ' 'And Reginald?' said Alethea. 'Oh! Redgie is a noble-looking fellow. But just eleven, and tallerthan Jane. His complexion so fair, yet fresh and boyish, and hiseyes that beautiful blue that Ada's are--real blue. Then his hair, in dark brown waves, with a rich auburn shine. The old knights musthave been just like Redgie. And Claude--Oh! Miss Weston, have youever seen Claude?' 'No, but I have seen your eldest brother. ' 'William? Why, he has been in Canada these three years. Where couldyou have seen him?' 'At Brighton, about four years ago. ' 'Ah! the year before he went. I remember that his regiment wasthere. Well, it is curious that you should know him; and did youever hear of Harry, the brother that we lost?' 'I remember Captain Mohun's being called away to Oxford by hisillness, ' said Alethea. 'Ah, yes! William was the only one of us who was with him, even papawas not there. His illness was so short. ' 'Yes, ' said Alethea, 'I think it was on a Tuesday that Captain Mohunleft Brighton, and we saw his death in the paper on Saturday. ' 'William only arrived the evening that he died. Papa was gone toIreland to see about Cousin Rotherwood's property. Robert, notknowing that, wrote to him at Beechcroft; Eleanor forwarded theletter without opening it, and so we knew nothing till Robert came totell us that all was over. ' 'Without any preparation?' 'With none. Harry had left home about ten days before, quite well, and looking so handsome. You know what a fine-looking person Williamis. Well, Harry was very like him, only not so tall and strong, withthe same clear hazel eyes, and more pink in his cheeks--faireraltogether. Then Harry wrote, saying that he had caught one of hisbad colds. We did not think much of it, for he was always havingcoughs. We heard no more for a week, and then one morning Eleanorwas sent for out of the schoolroom, and there was Robert come to tellus. Oh! it was such a thunderbolt. This was what did the mischief. You know papa and mamma being from home so long, the elder boys hadno settled place for the holidays; sometimes they stayed with onefriend, sometimes with another, and so no one saw enough of them tofind out how delicate poor Harry really was. I think papa had beenanxious the only winter they were at home together, and Harry hadbeen talked to and advised to take care; but in the summer and autumnhe was well, and did not think about it. He went to Oxford by thecoach--it was a bitterly cold frosty day--there was a poor womanoutside, shivering and looking very ill, and Harry changed placeswith her. He was horribly chilled, but thinking he had only a commoncold, he took no care. Robert, coming to Oxford about a week after, found him very ill, and wrote to papa and William, but Williamscarcely came in time. Harry just knew him, and that was all. Hecould not speak, and died that night. Then William stayed at Oxfordto receive papa, and Robert came to tell us. ' 'It must have been a terrible shock. ' 'Such a loss--he was so very good and clever. Every one looked up tohim--William almost as much as the younger ones. He never was in anyscrape, had all sorts of prizes at Eton, besides getting hisscholarship before he was seventeen. ' Whenever Lily could get Miss Weston alone, it was her way to talk inthis manner. She loved the sound of her own voice so well, that shewas never better satisfied than when engrossing the wholeconversation. Having nothing to talk of but her books, her poorpeople, and her family, she gave her friend the full benefit of allshe could say on each subject, while Alethea had kindness enough tolisten with real interest to her long rambling discourses, wellpleased to see her happy. The next time they met, Lilias told her all she knew or imaginedrespecting Eleanor, and of her own debate with Claude, and ended, 'Now, Miss Weston, tell me your opinion, which would you choose for asister, Eleanor or Emily?' 'I have some experience of Miss Mohun's delightful manners, and noneof Mrs. Hawkesworth's, so I am no fair judge, ' said Alethea. 'I really have done justice to Eleanor's sterling goodness, ' saidLily. 'Now what should you think?' 'I can hardly imagine greater proofs of affection than Mrs. Hawkesworth has given you, ' said Miss Weston, smiling. 'It was because it was her duty, ' said Lilias. 'You have only heardthe facts, but you cannot judge of her ways and looks. Now onlythink, when Frank came home, after seven years of perils by field andflood--there she rose up to receive him as if he had been Mr. Nobodymaking a morning call. And all the time before they were married, Ido believe she thought more of showing Emily how much tea we were touse in a week than anything else. ' 'Perhaps some people might have admired her self-command, ' saidAlethea. 'Self-command, the refuge of the insensible? And now, I told youabout dear Harry the other day. He was Eleanor's especial brother, yet his death never seemed to make any difference to her. Shescarcely cried: she heard our lessons as usual, talked in her quietvoice--showed no tokens of feeling. ' 'Was her health as good as before?' asked Miss Weston. 'She was not ill, ' said Lily; 'if she had, I should have beensatisfied. She certainly could not take long walks that winter, butshe never likes walking. People said she looked ill, but I do notknow. ' 'Shall I tell you what I gather from your history?' 'Pray do. ' 'Then do not think me very perverse, if I say that perhaps the griefshe then repressed may have weighed down her spirits ever since, sothat you can hardly remember any alteration. ' 'That I cannot, ' said Lily. 'She is always the same, but then sheought to have been more cheerful before his death. ' 'Did not you lose him soon after your mother?' said Alethea. 'Two whole years, ' said Lily. 'Oh! and aunt, Robert too, and Frankwent to India the beginning of that year; yes, there was enough todepress her, but I never thought of grief going on in that quiet dullway for so many years. ' 'You would prefer one violent burst, and then forgetfulness?' 'Not exactly, ' said Lily; 'but I should like a little evidence of it. If it is really strong, it cannot be hid. ' Little did Lily think of the grief that sat heavy upon the spirit ofAlethea, who answered--'Some people can do anything that theyconsider their duty. ' 'Duty: what, are you a duty lover?' exclaimed Lilias. 'I neversuspected it, because you are not disagreeable. ' 'Thank you, ' said Alethea, laughing, 'your compliment rathersurprises me, for I thought you told me that your brother Claude wason the duty side of the question. ' 'He thinks he is, ' said Lily, 'but love is his real motive of action, as I can prove to you. Poor Claude had a very bad illness when hewas about three years old; and ever since he has been liable toterrible headaches, and he is not at all strong. Of course he cannotalways study hard, and when first he went to school, every onescolded him for being idle. I really believe he might have donemore, but then he was so clever that he could keep up without anytrouble, and, as Robert says, that was a great temptation; but stillpapa was not satisfied, because he said Claude could do better. Sosaid Harry. Oh! you cannot think what a person Harry was, as high-spirited as William, and as gentle as Claude; and in his kind way heused to try hard to make Claude exert himself, but it never would do--he was never in mischief, but he never took pains. Then Harry died, and when Claude came home, and saw how changed things were, how graypapa's hair had turned, and how silent and melancholy William hadgrown, he set himself with all his might to make up to papa as far ashe could. He thought only of doing what Harry would have wished, andpapa himself says that he has done wonders. I cannot see that Henryhimself could have been more than Claude is now; he has not sparedhimself in the least, his tutor says, and he would have had theNewcastle Scholarship last year, if he had not worked so hard that hebrought on one of his bad illnesses, and was obliged to come home. Now I am sure that he has acted from love, for it was as much hisduty to take pains while Harry was alive as afterwards. ' 'Certainly, ' said Miss Weston, 'but what does he say himself?' 'Oh! he never will talk of himself, ' said Lily. 'Have you not overlooked one thing which may be the truth, ' saidAlethea, as if she was asking for information, 'that duty and lovemay be identical? Is not St. Paul's description of charity very likethe duty to our neighbour?' 'The practice is the same, but not the theory, ' said Lily. 'Now, what is called duty, seems to me to be love doing unpleasantwork, ' said Miss Weston; 'love disguised under another name, whenobliged to act in a way which seems, only seems, out of accordancewith its real title. ' 'That is all very well for those who have love, ' said Lily. 'Somehave not who do their duty conscientiously--another word which Ihate, by the bye. ' 'They have love in a rough coat, perhaps, ' said Alethea, 'and Ishould expect it soon to put on a smoother one. ' CHAPTER VII--SIR MAURICE 'Shall thought was his, in after time, Thus to be hitched into a rhyme;The simple sire could only boastThat he was loyal to his cost, The banished race of kings revered, And lost his land. ' The holidays arrived, and with them the three brothers, for duringthe first few weeks of the Oxford vacation Claude accompanied LordRotherwood on visits to some college friends, and only came home thesame day as the younger ones. Maurice did not long leave his sisters in doubt as to what was to behis reigning taste, for as soon as dinner was over, he made Jane findthe volume of the Encyclopaedia containing Entomology, and with hiselbows on the table, proceeded to study it so intently, that theyoung ladies gave up all hopes of rousing him from it. Claude threwhimself down on the sofa to enjoy the luxury of a desultory talk withhis sisters; and Reginald, his head on the floor, and his heels on achair, talked loud and fast enough for all three, with very littleregard to what the damsels might be saying. 'Oh! Claude, ' said Lily, 'you cannot think how much we like MissWeston, she lets us call her Alethea, and--' Here came an interruption from Mr. Mohun, who perceiving the positionof Reginald's dusty shoes, gave a loud 'Ah--h!' as if he was scoldinga dog, and ordered him to change them directly. 'Here, Phyl!' said Reginald, kicking off his shoes, 'just step up andbring my shippers, Rachel will give them to you. ' Away went Phyllis, well pleased to be her brother's fag. 'Ah! Redgie does not know the misfortune that hangs over him, ' saidEmily. 'What?' said Reginald, 'will not the Baron let Viper come to thehouse?' 'Worse, ' said Emily, 'Rachel is going away. ' 'Rachel?' cried Claude, starting up from the sofa. 'Rachel?' said Maurice, without raising his eyes. 'Rachel! Rachel! botheration!' roared Reginald, with a wondrouscaper. 'Yes, Rachel, ' said Emily; 'Rachel, who makes so much of you, for noreason that I could ever discover, but because you are the mosttroublesome. ' 'You will never find any one to mend your jackets, and dress yourwounds like Rachel, ' said Lily, 'and make a baby of you instead of agreat schoolboy. What will become of you, Redgie?' 'What will become of any of us?' said Claude; 'I thought Rachel wasthe mainspring of the house. ' 'Have you quarrelled with her, Emily?' said Reginald. 'Nonsense, ' said Emily, 'it is only that her brother has lost hiswife, and wants her to take care of his children. ' 'Well, ' said Reginald, 'her master has lost his wife, and wants herto take care of his children. ' 'I cannot think what I shall do, ' said Ada; 'I cry about it everynight when I go to bed. What is to be done?' 'Send her brother a new wife, ' said Maurice. 'Send him Emily, ' said Reginald; 'we could spare her much better. ' 'Only I don't wish him joy, ' said Maurice. 'Well, I hope you wish me joy of my substitute, ' said Emily; 'I donot think you would ever guess, but Lily, after being in what Rachelcalls quite a way, has persuaded every one to let us have EstherBateman. ' 'What, the Baron?' said Claude, in surprise. 'Yes, ' said Lily, 'is it not delightful? He said at first, Emily wastoo inexperienced to teach a young servant; but then we settled thatHannah should be upper servant, and Esther will only have to waitupon Phyl and Ada. Then he said Faith Longley was of a better set ofpeople, but I am sure it would give one the nightmare to see herlumbering about the house, and then he talked it over with Robert andwith Rachel. ' 'And was not Rachel against it, or was she too kind to her youngladies?' 'Oh! she was cross when she talked it over with us, ' said Lily; 'butwe coaxed her over, and she told the Baron it would do very well. ' 'And Robert?' 'He was quite with us, for he likes Esther as much as I do, ' saidlily. 'Now, Lily, ' said Jane, 'how can you say he was quite with you, whenhe said he thought it would be better if she was farther from home, and under some older person?' 'Yes, but he allowed that she would be much safer here than at home, 'said Lily. 'But I thought she used to be the head of all the ill behaviour inschool, ' said Claude. 'Oh! that was in Eleanor's time, ' said Lily; 'there was nothing todraw her out, she never was encouraged; but since she has been in myclass, and has found that her wishes to do right are appreciated andmet by affection, she has been quite a new creature. ' 'Since she has been in MY class, ' Claude repeated. 'Well, ' said Lily, with a slight blush, 'it is just what Robert says. He told her, when he gave her her prize Bible on Palm Sunday, thatshe had been going on very well, but she must take great care whenremoved from those whose influence now guided her, and who could hehave meant but me? And now she is to go on with me always. She willbe quite one of the old sort of faithful servants, who feel that theyowe everything to their masters, and will it not be pleasant to haveso sweet and expressive a face about the house?' 'Do I know her face?' said Claude. 'Oh yes! I do. She has blackeyes, I think, and would be pretty if she did not look pert. ' 'You provoking Claude!' cried Lily, 'you are as bad as Alethea, whonever will say that Esther is the best person for us. ' 'I was going to inquire for the all-for-love principle, ' said Claude, 'but I see it is in full force. And how are the verses, Lily? Haveyou made a poem upon Michael Moone, or Mohun, the actor, our uncle, whom I discovered for you in Pepys's Memoirs?' 'Nonsense, ' said Lily; 'but I have been writing something about SirMaurice, which you shall hear whenever you are not in this horridtemper. ' The next afternoon, as soon as luncheon was over, Lily drew Claudeout to his favourite place under the plane-tree, where she proceededto inflict her poem upon his patient ears, while he lay flat upon thegrass looking up to the sky; Emily and Jane had promised to join themthere in process of time, and the four younger ones were, as usual, diverting themselves among the farm buildings at the Old Court. Lily began: 'I meant to have two parts about Sir Maurice going outto fight when he was very young, and then about his brothers beingkilled, and King Charles knighting him, and his betrothed, PhyllisCrossthwayte, embroidering his black engrailed cross on his banner, and then the taking the castle, and his being wounded, and escaping, and Phyllis not thinking it right to leave her father; but I have notfinished that, so now you must hear about his return home. ' 'A romaunt in six cantos, entitled Woe woe, By Miss Fanny F. Known more commonly so, ' muttered Claude to himself; but as Lily did not understand or knowwhence his quotation came, it did not hurt her feelings, and she wentmerrily on:- ''Tis the twenty-ninth of merry May;Full cheerily shine the sunbeams to-day, Their joyous light revealingFull many a troop in garments gay, With cheerful steps who take their way By the green hill and shady lane, While merry bells are pealing;And soon in Beechcroft's holy faneThe villagers are kneeling. Dreary and mournful seems the shrineWhere sound their prayers and hymns divine; For every mystic ornament By the rude spoiler's hand is rent; Scarce is its ancient beauty traced In wood-work broken and defaced, Reft of each quaint device and rare, Of foliage rich and mouldings fair; Yet happy is each spirit there; The simple peasantry rejoice To see the altar decked with care, To hear their ancient Pastor's voice Reciting o'er each well-known prayer, To view again his robe of white, And hear the services aright; Once more to chant their glorious Creed, And thankful own their nation freed From those who cast her glories down, And rent away her Cross and Crown. A stranger knelt among the crowd, And joined his voice in praises loud, And when the holy rites had ceased, Held converse with the aged Priest, Then turned to join the village feast, Where, raised on the hill's summit green, The Maypole's flowery wreaths were seen; Beneath the venerable yew The stranger stood the sports to view, Unmarked by all, for each was bent On his own scheme of merriment, On talking, laughing, dancing, playing - There never was so blithe a Maying. So thought each laughing maiden gay, Whose head-gear bore the oaken spray; So thought that hand of shouting boys, Unchecked in their best joy--in noise; But gray-haired men, whose deep-marked scars Bore token of the civil wars, And hooded dames in cloaks of red, At the blithe youngsters shook the head, Gathering in eager clusters told How joyous were the days of old, When Beechcroft's lords, those Barons bold, Came forth to join their vassals' sport, And here to hold their rustic court, Throned in the ancient chair you see Beneath our noble old yew tree. Alas! all empty stands the throne, Reserved for Mohun's race alone, And the old folks can only tell Of the good lords who ruled so well. "Ah! I bethink me of the time, The last before those years of crime, When with his open hearty cheer, The good old squire was sitting here. " "'Twas then, " another voice replied, "That brave young Master Maurice tried To pitch the ball with Andrew Grey - We ne'er shall see so blithe a day - All the young squires have long been dead. " "No, Master Webb, " quoth Andrew Grey, "Young Master Maurice safely fled, At least so all the Greenwoods say, And Walter Greenwood with him went To share his master's banishment; And now King Charles is ruling here, Our own good landlord may be near. " "Small hope of that, " the old man said, And sadly shook his hoary head, "Sir Maurice died beyond the sea, Last of his noble line was he. " "Look, Master Webb!" he turned, and there The stranger sat in Mohun's chair; At ease he sat, and smiled to scan The face of each astonished man; Then on the ground he laid aside His plumed hat and mantle wide. One moment, Andrew deemed he knew Those glancing eyes of hazel hue, But the sunk cheek, the figure spare, The lines of white that streak the hair - How can this he the stripling gay, Erst, victor in the sports of May? Full twenty years of cheerful toil, And labour on his native soil, On Andrew's head had left no trace - The summer's sun, the winter's storm, They had but ruddier made his face, More hard his hand, more strong his form. Forth from the wandering, whispering crowd, A farmer came, and spoke aloud, With rustic bow and welcome fair, But with a hesitating air - He told how custom well preserved The throne for Mohun's race reserved; The stranger laughed, "What, Harrington, Hast thou forgot thy landlord's son?" Loud was the cry, and blithe the shout, On Beechcroft hill that now rang out, And still remembered is the day, That merry twenty-ninth of May, When to his father's home returned That knight, whose glory well was earned. In poverty and banishment, His prime of manhood had been spent, A wanderer, scorned by Charles's court, One faithful servant his support. And now, he seeks his home forlorn, Broken in health, with sorrow worn. And two short years just passed away, Between that joyous meeting-day, And the sad eve when Beechcroft's bell Tolled forth Sir Maurice's funeral knell;And Phyllis, whose love was so constant and tried, Was a widow the year she was Maurice's bride;Yet the path of the noble and true-hearted knight, Was brilliant with honour, and glory, and light, And still his descendants shall sing of the fameOf Sir Maurice de Mohun, the pride of his name. ' 'It is a pity they should sing of it in such lines as those lastfour, ' said Claude. 'Let me see, I like your bringing in the realnames, though I doubt whether any but Greenwood could have been foundhere. ' 'Oh! here come Emily and Jane, ' said Lily, 'let me put it away. ' 'You are very much afraid of Jane, ' said Claude. 'Yes, Jane has no feeling for poetry, ' said Lily, with simplicity, which made her brother smile. Jane and Emily now came up, the former with her work, the latter witha camp-stool and a book. 'I wonder, ' said she, 'where those boysare! By the bye, what character did they bring home from school?' 'The same as usual, ' said Claude. 'Maurice's mind only half given tohis work, and Redgie's whole mind to his play. ' 'Maurice's talent does not lie in the direction of Latin and Greek, 'said Emily. 'No, ' said Jane, 'it is nonsense to make him learn it, and so hesays. ' 'Perhaps he would say the same of mathematics and mechanics, if asgreat a point were made of them, ' said Lily. 'I think not, ' said Claude; 'he has more notion of them than of Latinverses. ' 'Then you are on my side, ' said Jane, triumphantly. 'Did I say so?' said Claude. 'Why not?' said Jane. 'What is the use of his knowing those stupidlanguages? I am sure it is wasting time not to improve such a geniusas he has for mechanics and natural history. Now, Claude, I wish youwould answer. ' 'I was waiting till you had done, ' said Claude. 'Why do you not think it nonsense?' persisted Jane. 'Because I respect my father's opinion, ' said Claude, letting himselffall on the grass, as if he had done with the subject. 'Pooh!' said Jane, 'that sounds like a good little boy of five yearsold!' 'Very likely, ' said Claude. 'But you have some opinion of your own, ' said Lily. 'Certainly. ' 'Then I wish you would give it, ' said Jane. 'Come, Emily, ' said Claude, 'have you brought anything to read?' 'But your opinion, Claude, ' said Jane. 'I am sure you think with me, only you are too grand, and too correct to say so. ' Claude made no answer, but Jane saw she was wrong by his countenance;before she could say anything more, however, they were interrupted bya great outcry from the Old Court regions. 'Oh, ' said Emily, 'I thought it was a long time since we had heardanything of those uproarious mortals. ' 'I hope there is nothing the matter, ' said Lily. 'Oh no, ' said Jane, 'I hear Redgie's laugh. ' 'Aye, but among that party, ' said Emily, 'Redgie's laugh is notalways a proof of peace: they are too much in the habit of actingthe boys and the frogs. ' 'We were better off, ' said Lily, 'with the gentle Claude, as MissMiddleton used to call him. ' 'Miss Molly, as William used to call him with more propriety, ' saidClaude, 'not half so well worth playing with as such a fellow asRedgie. ' 'Not even for young ladies?' said Emily. 'No, Phyllis and Ada are much the better for being teased, ' saidClaude. 'I am convinced that I never did my duty by you in thatrespect. ' 'There were others to do it for you, ' said Jane. 'Harry never teased, ' said Emily, 'and William scorned us. ' 'His teasing was all performed upon Claude, ' said Lily, 'and a greatshame it was. ' 'Not at all, ' said Claude, 'only an injudicious attempt to put alittle life into a tortoise. ' 'A bad comparison, ' said Lily; 'but what is all this? Here come thechildren in dismay! What is the matter, my dear child?' This was addressed to Phyllis, who was the first to come up at fullspeed, sobbing, and out of breath, 'Oh, the dragon-fly! Oh, do notlet him kill it!' 'The dragon-fly, the poor dear blue dragon-fly!' screamed Adeline, hiding her face in Emily's lap, 'Oh, do not let him kill it! he isholding it; he is hurting it! Oh, tell him not!' 'I caught it, ' said Phyllis, 'but not to have it killed. Oh, take itaway!' 'A fine rout, indeed, you chicken, ' said Reginald; 'I know a fellowwho ate up five horse-stingers one morning before breakfast. ' 'Stingers!' said Phyllis, 'they do not sting anything, prettycreatures. ' 'I told you I would catch the old pony and put it on him to try, 'said Reginald. In the meantime, Maurice came up at his leisure, holding his prize bythe wings. 'Look what a beautiful Libellulla Puella, ' said he toJane. 'A demoiselle dragon-fly, ' said Lily; 'what a beauty! what are yougoing to do with it?' 'Put it into my museum, ' said Maurice. 'Here, Jane, put it underthis flower-pot, and take care of it, while I fetch something to killit with. ' 'Oh, Maurice, do not!' said Emily. 'One good squeeze, ' said Reginald. 'I will do it. ' 'How came you be so cruel?' said Lily. 'No, a squeeze will not do, ' said Maurice; 'it would spoil itsbeauty; I must put it ever the fumes of carbonic acid. ' 'Maurice, you really must not, ' said Emily. 'Now do not, dear Maurice, ' said Ada, 'there's a dear boy; I willgive you such a kiss. ' 'Nonsense; get out of the way, ' said Maurice, turning away. 'Now, Maurice, this is most horrid cruelty, ' said Lily; 'what righthave you to shorten the brief, happy life which--' 'Well, ' interrupted Maurice, 'if you make such a fuss about killingit, I will stick a pin through it into a cork, and let it shift foritself. ' Poor Phyllis ran away to the other end of the garden, sat down andsobbed, Ada screamed and argued, Emily complained, Lily exhortedClaude to interfere, while Reginald stood laughing. 'Such useless cruelty, ' said Emily. 'Useless!' said Maurice. 'Pray how is any one to make a collectionof natural objects without killing things?' 'I do not see the use of a collection, ' said Lily; 'you can examinethe creatures and let them go. ' 'Such a young lady's tender-hearted notion, ' said Reginald. 'Who ever heard of a man of science managing in such a ridiculousway?' 'Man of science!' exclaimed Lily, 'when he will have forgotten bynext Christmas that insects ever existed. ' It was not convenient to hear this speech, so Maurice turned an emptyflower-pot over his prisoner, and left it in Jane's care while hewent to fetch the means of destruction, probably choosing the lawnfor the place of execution, in order to show his contempt for hissisters. 'Fair damsel in boddice blue, ' said Lily, peeping in at the hole atthe top of the flower-pot, 'I wish I could avert your melancholyfate. I am very sorry for you, but I cannot help it. ' 'You might help it now, at any rate, ' muttered Claude. 'No, ' said Lily, 'I know Monsieur Maurice too well to arouse hiswrath so justly. If you choose to release the pretty creature, Ishall be charmed. ' 'You forget that I am in charge, ' said Jane. 'There is a carriage coming to the front gate, ' cried Ada. 'Emily, may I go into the drawing-room? Oh, Jenny, will you undo my brownholland apron?' 'That is right, little mincing Miss, ' said Reginald, with a low bow;'how fine we are to-day. ' 'How visitors break into the afternoon, ' said Emily, with a languidturn of her head. 'Jenny, brownie, ' called Maurice from his bedroom window, 'I want thesulphuric acid. ' Jane sprang up and ran into the house, though her sisters calledafter her, that she would come full upon the company in the hall. 'They shall not catch me here, ' cried Reginald, rushing off into theshrubbery. 'Are you coming in, Claude?' said Emily. 'Send Ada to call me, if there is any one worth seeing, ' said Claude 'They will see you from the window, ' said Emily. 'No, ' said Claude, 'no one ever found me out last summer, under thesefriendly branches. ' The old butler, Joseph, now showed himself on the terrace; and theyoung ladies, knowing that he had no intention of crossing the lawn, hastened to learn from him who their visitors were, and entered thehouse. Just then Phyllis came running back from the kitchen garden, and without looking round, or perceiving Claude, she took up theflower-pot and released the captive, which, unconscious of its peril, rested on a blade of grass, vibrating its gauzy wings and rejoicingin the restored sunbeams. 'Fly away, fly away, you pretty creature, ' said Phyllis; 'make haste, or Maurice will come and catch you again. I wish I had not given yousuch a fright. I thought you would have been killed, and a pin stuckall through that pretty blue and black body of yours. Oh! that wouldbe dreadful. Make haste and go away! I would not have caught you, you beautiful thing, if I had known what he wanted to do. I thoughthe only wanted to look at your beautiful body, like a little bit ofthe sky come down to look at the flowers, and your delicate wings, and great shining eyes. Oh! I am very glad God made you sobeautiful. Oh! there is Maurice coming. I must blow upon you tomake you go. Oh, that is right--up quite high in the air--quitesafe, ' and she clapped her hands as the dragon-fly rose in the air, and disappeared behind the laurels, just as Maurice and Reginaldemerged from the shrubbery, the former with a bottle in his hand. 'Well, where is the Libellulla?' said he. 'The dragon-fly?' said Phyllis. 'I let it out. ' 'Sold, Maurice!' cried Reginald, laughing at his brother's disaster. 'Upon my word, Phyl, you are very kind!' said Maurice, angrily. 'IfI had known you were such an ill-natured crab--' 'Oh! Maurice dear, don't say so, ' exclaimed Phyllis. 'I thought Imight let it out because I caught it myself; and I told you I did notcatch it for you to kill; Maurice, indeed, I am sorry I vexed you. ' 'What else did you do it for?' said Maurice. 'It is horrid not to beable to leave one's things a minute--' 'But I did not know the dragon-fly belonged to you, Maurice, ' saidPhyllis. 'That is a puzzler, Mohun senior, ' said Reginald. 'Now, Redgie, do get Maurice to leave off being angry with me, 'implored his sister. 'I will leave off being angry, ' said Maurice, seeing his advantage, 'if you will promise never to let out my things again. ' 'I do not think I can promise, ' said Phyllis. 'O yes, you can, ' said Reginald, 'you know they are not his. ' 'Promise you will not let out any insects I may get, ' said Maurice, 'or I shall say you are as cross as two sticks. ' 'I'll tell you what, Maurice, ' said Phyllis, 'I do wish you would notmake me promise, for I do not think I CAN keep it, for I cannot bearto see the beautiful live things killed. ' 'Nonsense, ' said Maurice, fiercely, 'I am very angry indeed, younaughty child; promise--' 'I cannot, ' said Phyllis, beginning to cry. 'Then, ' said Maurice, 'I will not speak to you all day. ' 'No, no, ' shouted Reginald, 'we will only treat her like the horse-stinger; you wanted a puella, Maurice--here is one for you, here, give her a dose of the turpentine. ' 'Yes, ' said Maurice, advancing with his bottle; 'and do you take thepoker down to Naylor's to be sharpened, it will just do to stickthrough her back. Oh! no, not Naylor's--the girls have made a hashthere, as they do everything else; but we will settle her before theycome out again. ' Phyllis screamed and begged for mercy--her last ally had desertedher. 'Promise!' cried the boys. 'Oh, don't!' was all her answer. Reginald caught her and held her fast, Maurice advanced upon her, shestruggled, and gave a scream of real terror. The matter was no joketo any one but Reginald, for Maurice was very angry and really meantto frighten her. 'Hands off, boys, I will not have her bullied, ' said Claude, halfrising. Maurice gave a violent start, Reginald looked round laughing, andexclaimed, 'Who would have thought of Claude sneaking there?' andPhyllis ran to the protecting arm, which he stretched out. To hergreat surprise, he drew her to him, and kissed her forehead, saying, 'Well done, Phyl!' 'Oh, I knew he was not going to hurt me, ' said Phyllis, still pantingfrom the struggle. 'To be sure not, ' said Maurice, 'I only meant to have a little fun. ' Claude, with his arm still round his sister's waist, gave Maurice alook, expressing, 'Is that the truth?' and Reginald tumbled head overheels, exclaiming, 'I would not have been Phyl just them. ' Ada now came running up to them, saying, 'Maurice and Redgie, you areto come in; Mr. And Mrs. Burnet heard your voices, and begged to seeyou, because they never saw you last holidays. ' 'More's the pity they should see us now, ' said Maurice. 'I shall not go, ' said Reginald. 'Papa is there, and he sent for you, ' said Ada. 'Plague, ' was the answer. 'See what you get by making such a row, ' said Claude. 'If you hadbeen as orderly members of society as I am--' 'Oh, but Claude, ' said Ada, 'papa told me to see if I could find you. Dear Claude, I wish, ' she proceeded, taking his hand, and lookingengaging, 'I wish you would put your arm round me as you do roundPhyl. ' 'You are not worth it, Ada, ' said Reginald, and Claude did notcontradict him. CHAPTER VIII--THE BROTHERS 'But smiled to hear the creatures he had knownSo long were now in class and order shown -Genus and species. "Is it meet, " said he, "This creature's name should one so sounding be -'Tis but a fly, though first-born of the spring, Bombylius Majus, dost thou call the thing?" It was not till Sunday, that Lily's eager wish was fulfilled, ofintroducing her friend and her brothers; but, as she might haveforeseen, their first meeting did not make the perfections of eitherparty very clear to the other. Claude never spoke to strangers morethan he could help, Maurice and Reginald were in the room only ashort time; so that the result of Miss Weston's observations, whencommunicated in reply to Lily's eager inquiries, was only that Claudewas very like his father and eldest brother, Reginald very handsome, and Maurice looked like a very funny fellow. On Monday, Reginald and Maurice were required to learn what they hadalways refused to acknowledge, that the holidays were not intended tobe spent in idleness. A portion of each morning was to be devoted tostudy, Claude having undertaken the task of tutor--and hard work hefound it; and much did Lily pity him, when, as not unfrequentlyhappened, the summons to the children's dinner would bring him fromthe study, looking thoroughly fagged--Maurice in so sulky a mood thathe would hardly deign to open his lips--Reginald talking fast enough, indeed, but only to murmur at his duties in terms, which, though theymade every one laugh, were painful to hear. Then Claude would takehis brothers back to the study, and not appear for an hour or more, and when he did come forth, it was with a bad headache. Sometimes, as if to show that it was only through their own fault that theirtasks were wearisome, one or both boys would finish quite early, whenReginald would betake himself to the schoolroom and employ his idletime in making it nearly impossible for Ada and Phyllis to learn, bytalking, laughing, teasing the canary, overturning everything inpursuing wasps, making Emily fretful by his disobedience, and thenlaughing at her, and, in short, proving his right to the title he hadgiven himself at the end of the only letter he had written since hefirst went to school, and which he had subscribed, 'Your affectionatebother, R. Mohun. ' So that, for their own sake, all would havepreferred the inattentive mornings. Lily often tried to persuade Claude to allow her to tell her fatherhow troublesome the boys were, but never with any effect. He oncetook up a book he had been using with them, and pointing to the namein the first page, in writing, which Lily knew full well, 'HenryMohun, ' she perceived that he meant to convince her that it wasuseless to try to dissuade him, as he thought the patience andforbearance his brother had shown to him must be repaid by his notshrinking from the task he had imposed upon himself with his youngbrothers, though he was often obliged to sit up part of the night topursue his own studies. If Claude had rather injudiciously talked too much to Lilias of 'herprinciple, ' and thus kept it alive in her mind, yet his example mighthave made its fallacy evident. She believed that what she calledlove had been the turning point in his character, that it had beenhis earnest desire to follow in Henry's steps, and so try to comforthis father for his loss, that had roused him from his indolence; butshe was beginning to see that nothing but a sense of duty could havekept up the power of that first impulse for six years. Lily began toenter a little into his principle, and many things that occurredduring these holidays made her mistrust her former judgment. She sawthat without the unvarying principle of right and wrong, fraternallove itself would fail in outward acts and words. Forbearance, though undeniably a branch of love, could not exist without constantremembrance of duty; and which of them did not sometimes fail inkindness, meekness, and patience? Did Emily show that softness, which was her most agreeable characteristic, in her whining reproofs--in her complaints that 'no one listened to a word she said'--in herrefusal to do justice even to those who had vainly been seeking forpeace? Did Lily herself show any of her much valued love, by thesharp manner in which she scolded the boys for roughness towardsherself? or for language often used by them on purpose to make herdispleasure a matter of amusement? She saw that her want of commandof temper was a failure both in love and duty, and when irritated, the thought of duty came sooner to her aid than the feeling of love. And Maurice and Reginald were really very provoking. Maurice lovedno amusement better than teasing his sisters, and this was almost theonly thing in which Reginald agreed with him. Reginald wasaffectionate, but too reckless and violent not to be verytroublesome, and he too often flew into a passion if Mauriceattempted to laugh at him; the little girls were often frightened andmade unhappy; Phyllis would scream and roar, and Ada would comesobbing to Emily, to be comforted after some rudeness of Reginald's. It was not very often that quarrels went so far, but many a time inthought, word, and deed was the rule of love transgressed, and morethan once did Emily feel ready to give up all her dignity, to haveEleanor's hand over the boys once more. Claude, finding that hecould do much to prevent mischief, took care not to leave the twoboys long together with the elder girls. They were far moreinoffensive when separate, as Maurice never practised his tormentingtricks when no one was present to laugh with him, and Reginald wasvery kind to Phyllis and Ada, although somewhat rude. It was a day or two after they returned that Phyllis was leaning onthe window-sill in the drawing-room, watching a passing shower, andadmiring the soft bright tints of a rainbow upon the dark gray massof cloud. 'I do set my bow in the cloud, ' repeated she to herselfover and over again, until Adeline entering the room, she eagerlyexclaimed, 'Oh Ada, come and look at this beautiful rainbow, green, and pink, and purple. A double one, with so many stripes, Ada. See, there is a little bit more green. ' 'There is no green in a rainbow, ' said Ada. 'But look, Ada, that is green. ' 'It is not real green. Blue, red, and yellow are the pragmaticcolours, ' said Ada, with a most triumphant air. 'Now are not they, Maurice?' said she, turning to her brother, who was, as usual, deepin entomology. 'Pragmatic, you foolish child, ' said he. 'Prismatic you mean. I amglad you remember what I tell you, however; I think I might teach yousome science in time. You are right in saying that blue, red, andyellow are the prismatic colours. Now do you know what causes arainbow?' 'It is to show there is never to be another flood, ' said Phyllis, gravely. 'Oh, I did not mean that, ' said Maurice, addressing himself to Ada, whose love of hard words made him deem her a promising pupil, andwhom he could lecture without interruption. 'The rainbow is causedby--' 'But, Maurice!' exclaimed Phyllis, remaining with mouth wide open. 'The rainbow is occasioned by the refraction of the rays of the sunin the drops of water of which a cloud is composed. ' 'But, Maurice!' again said Phyllis. 'Well, what do you keep on "but, Mauricing, " about?' 'But, Maurice, I thought it said, "I do set my bow in the cloud. " Isnot that right? I will look. ' 'I know that, but I know the iris, or rainbow, is a naturalphenomenon occasioned by the refraction. ' 'But, Maurice, I can't bear you to say that;' and poor Phyllis satdown and began to cry. Ada interfered. 'Why, Maurice, you believe the Bible, don't you?' This last speech was heard by Lilias, who just now entered the room, and greatly surprised her. 'What can you be talking of?' said she. 'Only some nonsense of the children's, ' said Maurice, shortly. 'But only hear what he says, ' cried Ada. 'He says the rainbow wasnot put there to show there is never to be another flood!' 'Now, Lily, ' said Maurice, 'I do not think there is much use intalking to you, but I wish you to understand that all I said was, that the rainbow, or iris, is a natural phenomenon occasioned by therefraction of the solar--' 'You will certainly bewilder yourself into something dreadful withthat horrid science, ' said Lily. 'What is the matter with Phyl?' 'Only crying because of what I said, ' answered Maurice. 'Sochildish, and you are just as bad. ' 'But do you mean to say, ' exclaimed Lily, 'that you set this humantheory above the authority of the Bible?' 'It is common sense, ' said Maurice; 'I could make a rainbow any day. ' Whereupon Phyllis cried the more, and Lily looked infinitely shocked. 'This is philosophy and vain deceit, ' said she; 'the very thing thattends to infidelity. ' 'I can't help it--it is universally allowed, ' said the boy doggedly. It was fortunate that the next person who entered the room wasClaude, and all at once he was appealed to by the four disputants, Lily the loudest and most vehement. 'Claude, listen to him, and tellhim to throw away these hateful new lights, which lead to everythingthat is shocking!' 'Listen to him, with three ladies talking at once?' said Claude. 'No, not Phyl--her tears only are eloquent; but it is a mighty warabout the token of peace and LOVE, Lily. ' 'The love would be in driving these horrible philosophicalspeculations out of Maurice's mind, ' said Lily. 'No one can ever drive out the truth, ' said Maurice, with provokingcoolness. 'Don't let her scratch out my eyes, Claude. ' 'I am not so sure of that maxim, ' said Claude. 'Truth is chieflyinjured--I mean, her force weakened, by her own supporters. ' 'Then you agree with me, ' said Maurice, 'as, in fact, every rationalperson must. ' 'Then you are with me, ' said Lily, in the same breath; 'and you willconvince Maurice of the danger of this nonsense. ' 'Umph, ' sighed Claude, throwing himself into his father's arm-chair, ''tis a Herculean labour! It seems I agree with you both. ' 'Why, every Christian must be with me, who has not lost his way in amist of his own raising, ' said Lilias. 'Do you mean to say, ' said Maurice, 'that these colours are notproduced by refraction? Look at them on those prisms;' and hepointed to an old-fashioned lustre on the chimney-piece. 'I hopethis is not a part of the Christian faith. ' 'Take care, Maurice, ' and Claude's eyes were bent upon him in amanner that made him shrink. And he added, 'Of course I do believethat chapter about Noah. I only meant that the immediate cause ofthe rainbow is the refraction of light. I did not mean to beirreverent, only the girls took me up in such a way. ' 'And I know well enough that you can make those colours by light ondrops of water, ' said Lily. 'So you agreed all the time, ' said Claude. 'But, ' added Lily, 'I never liked to know it; for it always seemed tobe explaining away the Bible, and I cannot bear not to regard thatlovely bow as a constant miracle. ' 'You will remember, ' said Claude, 'that some commentators say itshould be, "I HAVE set my bow in the cloud, " which would make whatalready existed become a token for the future. 'I don't like that explanation, ' said Lily. 'Others say, ' added Claude, 'that there might have been no rain atall till the windows of heaven were opened at the flood, and, in thatcase, the first recurrence of rain must have greatly alarmed Noah'sfamily, if they had not been supported and cheered by the sight ofthe rainbow. ' 'That is reasonable, ' said Maurice. 'I hate reason applied to revelation, ' said Lily. 'It is a happier state of mind which does not seek to apply it, ' saidClaude, looking at Phyllis, who had dried her tears, and stood in thewindow gazing at him, in the happy certainty that he was setting allright. Maurice respected Claude for his science as much as hischaracter, and did not make game of this observation as he would ifit had been made by one of his sisters, but he looked at him with anodd expression of perplexity. 'You do not think ignorant credulitybetter than reasonable belief?' said he at length. 'It is not I only who think most highly of child-like unquestioningfaith, Maurice, ' said Claude--'faith, that is based upon love andreverence, ' added he to Lily. 'But come, the shower is over, andphilosophers, or no philosophers, I invite you to walk in the wood. ' 'Aye, ' said Maurice, 'I daresay I can find some of the Arachnespecies there. By the bye, Claude, do you think papa would let mehave a piece of plate-glass, eighteen by twenty, to cover my case ofinsects?' 'Ask, and you will discover, ' said Claude. Accordingly, Maurice began the next morning at breakfast, 'Papa, mayI have a piece of plate-glass, eighteen by--?' But no one heard, for Emily was at the moment saying, 'The Westonsare to dine here to-day. ' Claude and Maurice both looked blank. 'I persuaded papa to ask the Westons, ' said Lily, 'because I amdetermined that Claude shall like Alethea. ' 'You must expect that I shall not, you have given me so many orderson the subject, ' said Claude. 'Take care it has not the same effect as to tell Maurice to like abook, ' said Emily; 'nothing makes his aversion so certain. ' 'Except when he takes it up by mistake, and forgets that it has beenrecommended to him, ' said Claude. 'Take care, Redgie, with your knife; don't put out my eyes in yourardour against that wretched wasp. Wat Greenwood may well say "thereis a terrible sight of waspses this year. "' 'I killed twenty-nine yesterday, ' said Reginald. 'And I will tell you what I saw, ' said Phyllis; 'I was picking upapples, and the wasps were flying all round, and there came ahornet. ' 'Vespa Crabro!' cried Maurice; 'oh, I must have one!' 'Well, what of the hornet?' said Mr. Mohun. 'I'll tell you what, ' resumed Phyllis, 'he saw a wasp flying, and sohe went up in the air, and pounced on the poor wasp as the hawk didon Jane's bantam. So then he hung himself up to the branch of a treeby one of his legs, and held the wasp with the other five, and beganto pack it up. First he bit off the yellow tail, then the legs, andthrew them away, and then there was nothing left but the head, and sohe flew away with it to his nest. ' 'Which way did he go?' said Maurice. 'To the Old Court, ' answered Phyllis; 'I think the nest is in theroof of the old cow-house, for they were flying in and out thereyesterday, and one was eating out the wood from the old rails. ' 'Well, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'you must show me a hornet hawking for waspsbefore the nest is taken, Phyllis; I suppose you have seen the waspscatching flies?' 'Oh yes, papa! but they pack them up quite differently. They do nothang by one leg, but they sit down quite comfortably on a branchwhile they bite off the wings and legs. ' 'There, Maurice, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'I had rather hear of one suchwell-observed fact than of a dozen of your hard names and impaledinsects. ' Phyllis looked quite radiant with delight at his approbation. 'But, papa, ' said Maurice, 'may I have a piece of plate-glass, eighteen by twenty?' 'When you observe facts in natural history, perhaps I may saysomething to your entomology, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'But, papa, all my insects will be spoilt if I may not have a pieceof glass, eighteen by--' He was interrupted by the arrival of the post-bag, which Jane, asusual, opened. 'A letter from Rotherwood, ' said she; 'I hope he iscoming at last. ' 'He is, ' said Claude, reading the letter, 'but only from Saturdaytill Wednesday. ' 'He never gave us so little of his good company as he has thissummer, ' said Emily. 'You will have them all in the autumn, to comfort you, ' said Claude, 'for he hereby announces the marvellous fact, that the Marchionesssends him to see if the castle is fit to receive her. ' 'Are you sure he is not only believing what he wishes?' said Mr. Mohun. 'I think he will gain his point at last, ' said Claude. 'How stupid of him to stay no longer!' said Reginald. 'I think he has some scheme for this vacation, ' said Claude, 'and Isuppose he means to crowd all the Beechcroft diversions of a wholesummer into those few days. ' 'Emily, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'I wish him to know the Carringtons; invitethem and the Westons to dinner on Tuesday. ' 'Oh don't!' cried Reginald. 'It will be so jolly to have him to takewasps' nests; and may I go out rabbit-shooting with him?' 'If he goes. ' 'And may I carry a gun?' 'If it is not loaded, ' said his father. 'Indeed, I would do no mischief, ' said Reginald. 'Let me give you one piece of advice, Reginald, ' said Mr. Mohun, witha mysterious air--'never make rash promises. ' Lilias was rather disappointed in her hopes that Miss Weston andClaude would become better acquainted. At dinner the conversationwas almost entirely between the elder gentlemen; Claude scarcelyspoke, except when referred to by his father or Mr. Devereux. MissWeston never liked to incur the danger of having to repeat herinsignificant speeches to a deaf ear, and being interested in thediscussion that was going on, she by no means seconded Lily's attemptto get up an under-current of talk. In general, Lily liked to listento conversation in silence, but she was now in very high spirits, andcould not be quiet; fortunately, she had no interest in the subjectthe gentlemen were discussing, so that she could not meddle withthat, and finding Alethea silent and Claude out of reach, she turnedto Reginald, and talked and tittered with him all dinner-time. In the drawing-room she had it all her own way, and talked enough forall the sisters. 'Have you heard that Cousin Rotherwood is coming?' 'Yes, you said so before dinner. ' 'We hope, ' said Emily, 'that you and Mr. Weston will dine here onTuesday. The Carringtons are coming, and a few others. ' 'Thank you, ' said Alethea; 'I daresay papa will be very glad tocome. ' 'Have you ever seen Rotherwood?' said Lilias. 'Never, ' was the reply. 'Do not expect much, ' said Lily, laughing, though she knew not why;'he is a very little fellow; no one would suppose him to be twenty, he has such a boyish look. Then he never sits down--' 'Literally?' said Emily. 'Literally, ' persisted Lily; 'such a quick person you never did see. ' 'Is he at Oxford?' 'Oh yes! it was all papa's doing that he was sent to Eton. Papa ishis guardian. Aunt Rotherwood never would have parted with him. ' 'He is the only son, ' interposed Emily. 'Uncle Rotherwood put him quite in papa's power; Aunt Rotherwoodwanted to keep him at home with a tutor, and what she would have madeof him I cannot think, ' said Lily; and regardless of Emily's warningfrowns, and Alethea's attempt to change the subject, she went on:'When he was quite a child he used to seem a realisation of all thenaughty Dicks and Toms in story-books. Miss Middleton had a perfecthorror of his coming here, for he would mind no one, and playedtricks and drew Claude into mischief; but he is quite altered sincepapa had the management of him--Oh! such talks as papa has had withAunt Rotherwood--do you know, papa says no one knows what it is tolose a father but those who have the care of his children, and AuntRotherwood is so provoking. ' Here Alethea determined to put an end to this oration, and to Emily'sgreat relief, she cut short the detail of Lady Rotherwood's offencesby saying, 'Do you think Faith Longley likely to suit us, if we tookher to help the housemaid?' 'Are you thinking of taking her?' cried Lily. 'Yes, for steady, stupid household work, Faith would do very well; she is just thestuff to make a servant of--"for dulness ever must be regular"--Imean for those who like mere steadiness better than anything morelovable. ' As Alethea said, laughing, 'I must confess my respect for thatquality, ' Mr. Devereux and Claude entered the room. 'Oh, Robert!' cried Lily, 'Mrs. Weston is going to take Faith Longleyto help the housemaid. ' 'You are travelling too fast, Lily, ' said Alethea, 'she is only goingto think about it. ' 'I should be very glad, ' said Mr. Devereux, 'that Faith should have agood place; the Longleys are very respectable people, and theybehaved particularly well in refusing to let this girl go and livewith some dissenters at Stoney Bridge. ' 'I like what I have seen of the girl very much, ' said Miss Weston. 'In spite of her sad want of feeling, ' said Robert, smiling, as helooked at Lily. 'Oh! she is a good work-a-day sort of person, ' said Lily, 'like allother poor people, hard and passive. Now, do not set up youreyebrows, Claude, I am quite serious, there is no warmth about anyexcept--' 'So this is what Lily is come to!' cried Emily; 'the grand supporterof the poor on poetical principles. ' 'The poor not affectionate!' said Alethea. 'Not, compared within people whose minds and affections have beencultivated, ' said Lily. 'Now just hear what Mrs. Wall said to meonly yesterday; she asked for a black stuff gown out of the clothingclub, "for, " said she, "I had a misfortune, Miss;" I thought it wouldbe, "and tore my gown, " but it was, "I had a misfortune, Miss, andlost my brother. "' 'A very harsh conclusion on very slight grounds, ' said Mr. Devereux. 'Prove the contrary, ' said Lily. 'Facts would scarcely demonstrate it either way, ' said Mr. Devereux. 'They would only prove what was the case with individuals who chancedto come in our way, and if we are seldom able to judge of the depthof feeling of those with whom we are familiar, how much less of thosewho feel our presence a restraint. ' 'Intense feeling mocks restraint, ' said Lily. 'Violent, not intense, ' said Mr. Devereux. 'Besides, you talk ofcultivating the affections. Now what do you mean? Exercising them, or talking about them?' 'Ah!' said Emily, 'the affection of a poor person is more tried; weblame a poor man for letting his old mother go to the workhouse, without considering how many of us would do the same, if we had aslittle to live upon. ' 'Still, ' said Alethea, 'the same man who would refuse to maintain herif poor, would not bear with her infirmities if rich. ' 'Are the poor never infirm and peevish?' said Mr. Devereux. 'Oh! how much worse it must be to bear with ill-temper in poverty, 'said Emily, 'when we think it quite wonderful to see a young ladykind and patient with a cross old relation; what must it be when sheis denying herself, not only her pleasure, but her food for her sake;not merely sitting quietly with her all day, and calling a servant towait upon her, but toiling all day to maintain her, and keeping awakehalf the night to nurse her?' 'Those are realities, indeed, ' said Alethea; 'our greatest effortsseem but child's play in comparison. ' Lilias could hardly have helped being sobered by this conversation ifshe had attended to it, but she had turned away to repeat the storyof Mrs. Walls to Jane, and then, fancying that the others were stillremarking upon it, she said in a light, laughing tone, 'Well, so farI agree with you. I know of a person who may well be called one ofourselves, who I could quite fancy making such a speech. ' 'Whom do you mean?' said Mr. Devereux. Alethea wished she did notknow. 'No very distant relation, ' said Jane. 'Do not talk nonsense, Jane, ' said Claude, gravely. 'No nonsense at all, Claude, ' cried Jane in her very very pertesttone, 'it is exactly like Eleanor; I am sure I can see her with herhands before her, saying in her prim voice, "I must turn my old blacksilk and trim it with crape, for I have had a misfortune, and lost mybrother. "' 'Lilias, ' said Miss Weston, somewhat abruptly, 'did you not wish tosing with me this evening?' And thus she kept Lilias from any further public mischief thatevening. Claude, exceedingly vexed by what had passed, with great injustice, laid the blame upon Miss Weston, and instead of rendering her thehonour which she really deserved for the tact with which she had putan end to the embarrassment of all parties, he fancied she wasanxious to display her talents for music, and thus only felt frettedby the sounds. Mr. Weston and his daughter intended to walk home that evening, as itwas a beautiful moonlight night. 'Oh, let us convoy you!' exclaimed Lilias; 'I do long to show Aletheaa glow-worm. Will you come, Claude? May we, papa? Feel how stilland warm it is. A perfect summer night, not a breath stirring. ' Mr. Mohun consented, and Lily almost hurried Alethea upstairs, to puton her bonnet and shawl. When she came down she found that thewalking party had increased. Jane and Reginald would both have beenin despair to have missed such a frolic; Maurice hoped to fall inwith the droning beetle, or to lay violent hands on a glow-worm;Emily did not like to be left behind, and even Mr. Mohun was going, being in the midst of an interesting conversation with Mr. Weston. Lily, with an absurd tragic gesture, told Alethea that amongst somany, such a crowd, all the grace and sweet influence of the walk wasruined. The 'sweet influence' was ruined as far as Lily wasconcerned, but not by the number of her companions. It was theuneasy feeling caused by her over-strained spirits and foolishchattering that prevented her from really entering into the charm ofthe soft air, the clear moon, the solemn deep blue sky, the fewstars, the white lilies on the dark pond, the long shadows of thetrees, the freshness of the dewy fields. Her simplicity, and hergenuine delight in the loveliness of the scene, was gone for thetime, and though she spoke much of her enjoyment, it was in a high-flown affected style. When the last good-night had been exchanged, and Lily had turnedhomeward, she felt the stillness which succeeded their farewellsalmost oppressive; she started at the dark shadow of a tree which layacross the path, and to shake off a sensation of fear which wascoming over her, she put her arm within Claude's, exclaiming, 'Younaughty boy, you will be stupid and silent, say what I will. ' 'I heard enough to-night to strike me dumb, ' said Claude. For one moment Lily thought he was in jest, but the gravity of hismanner showed her that he was both grieved and displeased, and shechanged her tone as she said, 'Oh! Claude, what do you mean?' 'Do you not know?' said Claude. 'What, you mean about Eleanor?' said Lily; 'you must fall upon MissJenny there--it was her doing. ' 'Jane's tongue is a pest, ' said Claude; 'but she was not the first tospeak evil falsely of one to whom you owe everything. Oh! Lily, Icannot tell you how that allusion of yours sounded. ' 'What allusion?' asked Lily in alarm, for she had never seen hergentle brother so angry. 'You know, ' said he. 'Indeed, I do not, ' exclaimed Lily, munch frightened. 'Claude, Claude, you must mistake, I never could have said anything so veryshocking. ' 'I hope I do, ' said Claude; 'I could hardly believe that one of thelittle ones who cannot remember him, could have referred to him inthat way--but for you!' 'Him?' said Lilias. 'I do not like to mention his name to one who regards him solightly, ' said Claude. 'Think over what passed, if you aresufficiently come to yourself to remember it. ' After a little pause Lily said in a subdued voice, 'Claude, I hopeyou do not believe that I was thinking of what really happened when Isaid that. ' 'Pray what were you thinking of?' 'The abstract view of Eleanor's character. ' 'Abstract nonsense!' said Claude. 'A fine demonstration of the ruleof love, to go about the world slandering your sister!' 'To go about the world! Oh! Claude, it was only Robert, one ofourselves, and Alethea, to whom I tell everything. ' 'So much the worse. I always rejoiced that you had no foolish younglady friend to make missish confidences to. ' 'She is no foolish young lady friend, ' said Lilias, indignant in herturn; 'she is five years older than I am, and papa wishes us to beintimate with her. ' 'Then the fault is in yourself, ' said Claude. 'You ought not to havetold such things if they were true, and being utterly false--' 'But, Claude, I cannot see that they are false. ' 'Not false, that Eleanor cared not a farthing for Harry!' criedClaude, shaking off Lily's arm, and stopping short. 'Oh!--she cared, she really did care, ' said Lily, as fast as shecould speak. 'Oh! Claude, how could you think that? I told you Idid not mean what really happened, only that--Eleanor is cold--not aswarm as some people--she did care for him, of course she did--I knowthat--I believe she loved him with all her heart--but yet--I mean shedid not--she went on as usual--said nothing--scarcely cried--lookedthe same--taught us--never--Oh! it did not make half the differencein her that it did in William. ' 'I cannot tell how she behaved at the time, ' said Claude, 'I onlyknow I never had any idea what a loss Harry was till I came home andsaw her face. I used never to trouble myself to think whether peoplelooked ill or well, but the change in her did strike me. She wasbearing up to comfort papa, and to cheer William, and to do her dutyby all of us, and you could take such noble resignation for want offeeling!' Lilias looked down and tried to speak, but she was choked by hertears; she could not bear Claude's displeasure, and she wept insilence. At last she said in a voice broken by sobs, 'I was unjust--I know Eleanor was all kindness--all self-sacrifice--I have been veryungrateful--I wish I could help it--and you know well, Claude, howfar I am from regarding dear Harry with indifference--how the thoughtof him is a star in my mind--how happy it makes me to think of him atthe end of the Church Militant Prayer; do not believe I was dreamingof him. ' 'And pray, ' said Claude, laughing in his own good-humoured way, 'which of us is it that she is so willing to lose?' 'Oh! Claude, no such thing, ' said Lily, 'you know what I meant, ordid not mean. It was nonsense--I hope nothing worse. ' Lily feltthat she might take his arm again. There was a little silence, andthen Lily resumed in a timid voice, 'I do not know whether you willbe angry, Claude, but honestly, I do not think that if--that Eleanorwould be so wretched about you as I should. ' 'Eleanor knew Harry better than you did; no, Lily, I never could havebeen what Harry was, even if I had never wasted my time, and if myheadaches had not interfered with my best efforts. ' 'I do not believe that, say what you will, ' said Lily. 'Ask William, then, ' said Claude, sighing. 'I am sure papa does not think so, ' said Lily; 'no, I cannot feelthat Harry is such a loss when we still have you. ' 'Oh! Lily, it is plain that you never knew Harry, ' said Claude. 'Ido not believe you ever did--that is one ting to be said for you. ' 'Not as you did, ' said Lily; 'remember, he was six years older. Thenthink how little we saw of him whilst they were abroad; he was alwaysat school, or spending the holidays with Aunt Robert, and latterlyeven farther off, and only coming sometimes for an hour or two to seeus. Then he used to kiss us all round, we went into the garden withhim, looked at him, and were rather afraid of him; then he walked offto Wat Greenwood, came back, wished us good-bye, and away he went. ' 'Yes, ' said Claude, 'but after they came home?' 'Then he was a tall youth, and we were silly girls, ' said Lilias; 'heavoided Miss Middleton, and we were always with her. He was good-natured, but he could not get on with us; he did very well with thelittle ones, but we were of the wrong age. He and William andEleanor were one faction, we were another, and you were between both--he was too old, too sublime, too good, too grave for us. ' 'Too grave!' said Claude; 'I never heard a laugh so full of glee, except, perhaps, Phyllis's. ' 'The last time he was at home, ' continued Lily, 'we began to know himbetter; there was no Miss Middleton in the way, and after you andWilliam were gone, he used to walk with us, and read to us. He readGuy Mannering to us, and told us the story of Sir Maurice de Mohun;but the loss was not the same to us as to you elder ones; and thensorrow was almost lost in admiration, and in pleasure at the terms inwhich every one spoke of him. Claude, I have no difficulty in notwishing it otherwise; he is still my brother, and I would not changethe feeling which the thought of his death gives me--no, not forhimself in life and health. ' 'Ah!' sighed Claude, 'you have no cause for self-reproach--no reasonto lament over "wasted hours and love misspent. "' 'You will always talk of your old indolence, as if it was a greatcrime, ' said Lily. 'It was my chief temptation, ' said Claude. 'As long as we know weare out of the path of duty it does not make much difference whetherwe have turned to the right hand or to the left. ' 'Was it Harry's death that made you look upon it in this light?' saidLily. 'I knew it well enough before, ' said Claude, 'it was what he hadoften set before me. Indeed, till I came home, and saw this placewithout him, I never really knew what a loss he was. At Eton I didnot miss him more than when he went to Oxford, and I did not dwell onwhat he was to papa, or what I ought to be; and even when I saw whathome was without him, I should have contented myself with miserableexcuses about my health, if it had not been for my confirmation; thenI awoke, I saw my duty, and the wretched way in which I had beenspending my time. Thoughts of Harry and of my father cameafterwards; I had not vigour enough for them before. ' Here they reached the house, and parted--Claude, ashamed of havingtalked of himself for the first time in his life, and Lily dividedbetween shame at her own folly and pleasure at Claude's having thusopened his mind. Jane, who was most in fault, escaped censure. Her father wasignorant of her improper speech. Emily forgot it, and it was notClaude's place to reprove his sisters, though to Lily he spoke as afriend. It passed away from her mind like other idle words, which, however, could not but leave an impression on those who heard her. An unlooked-for result of the folly of this evening was, that Claudewas prevented from appreciating Miss Weston He could not learn tolike her, nor shake off an idea, that she was prying into theirfamily concerns; he thought her over-praised, and would not even givejust admiration to her singing, because he had once fancied her eagerto exhibit it. It was unreasonable to dislike his sister's friendfor his sister's folly, but Claude's wisdom was not yet arrived atits full growth, and he deserved credit for keeping his opinion tohimself. CHAPTER IX--THE WASP 'Whom He hath blessed and called His own, He tries them early, look and tone, Bent brow and throbbing heart, Tries them with pain. ' The next week Lily had the pleasure of fitting out Faith Longley forher place at Mrs. Weston's. She rejoiced at this opportunity ofpatronising her, because in her secret soul she felt that she mighthave done her a little injustice in choosing her own favourite Estherin her stead. Esther's popularity at the New Court, however, madeLilias confident in her own judgment; the servants liked her becauseshe was quick and obliging, Mr. Mohun said she looked very neat, Phyllis liked her because a mischance to her frock was not so bravean offence with her as with Rachel, and Ada was growing very fond ofher, because she was in the habit of bestowing great admiration onher golden curls as she arranged them, and both little girls wereglad not to be compelled to put away the playthings they took out. Maurice and Reginald had agreed to defer their onslaught on the waspstill Lord Rotherwood's arrival, and the war was now limited toattacks on foraging parties. Reginald most carefully marked everynest about the garden and farm, and, on his cousin's arrival onSaturday evening, began eagerly to give him a list of theirlocalities. Lord Rotherwood was as ardent in the cause as evenReginald could desire, and would have instantly set out with him toreconnoitre had not the evening been rainy. Then turning to Claude, he said, 'But I have not told you whatbrought me here; I came to persuade you to make an expedition with meup the Rhine; I set off next week; I would not write about it, because I knew you would only say you should like it very much, but--some but, that meant it was a great deal too much trouble. ' 'How fast the plan has risen up, ' said Claude, 'I heard nothing of itwhen I was with you. ' 'Oh! it only came into my head last week, but I do not see what thereis to wait for, second thoughts are never best. ' 'Oh! Claude, how delightful, ' said Lily. Claude stirred his tea meditatively, and did not speak. 'It is too much trouble, I perceive, ' said Lord Rotherwood; 'just asI told you. ' 'Not exactly, ' said Claude. Lord Rotherwood now detailed his plan to his uncle, who said with apropitious smile, 'Well, Claude, what do you think of it? 'Mind you catch a firefly for me, ' said Maurice. 'Why don't you answer, Claude?' said Lilias; 'only imagine seeingUndine's Castle!' 'Eh, Claude?' said his father. 'It would be very pleasant, ' said Claude, slowly, 'but--' 'What?' said Mr. Mohun. 'Only a but, ' said the Marquis. 'I hope he will have disposed of itby the morning; I start next Tuesday week; I would not go later forthe universe; we shall be just in time for the summer in its beauty, and to have a peep at Switzerland. We shall not have time for MontBlanc, without rattling faster than any man in his senses would do. I do not mean to leave any place till I have thoroughly seen twiceover everything worth seeing that it contains. ' 'Then perhaps you will get as far as Antwerp, and spend the rest ofthe holidays between the Cathedral and Paul Potter's bull. No, Ishall have nothing to say to you at that rate, ' said Claude. 'Depend upon it, it will be you that will wish to stand still when Ihad rather be on the move, ' said the Marquis. 'Then you had better leave me behind. I have no intention of beinghurried over the world, and never having my own way, ' said Claude, trying to look surly. 'I am sure I should not mind travelling twice over the world to seeCologne Cathedral, or the field of Waterloo, ' said Lily. 'Let me only show him my route, ' said Lord Rotherwood. 'Redgie, lookin my greatcoat pocket in the hall for Murray's Handbook, will you?' 'Go and get it, Phyl, ' said Reginald, who was astride on the window-sill, peeling a stick. Away darted Lord Rotherwood to fetch it himself, but Phyllis wasbefore him; her merry laugh was heard, as he chased her round thehall to get possession of his book, throwing down two or three cloaksto intercept her path. Mr. Mohun took the opportunity of his absenceto tell Claude that he need not refuse on the score of expense. 'Thank you, ' was all Claude's answer. Lord Rotherwood returned, and after punishing the discourteousReginald by raising him up by his ears, he proceeded to give a fulldescription of the delights of his expedition, the girls joiningheartily with him in declaring it as well arranged as possible, andbringing all their knowledge of German travels to bear upon it. Claude sometimes put in a word, but never as if he cared much aboutthe matter, and he was not to be persuaded to give any decided answeras to whether he would accompany the Marquis. The next morning at breakfast Lord Rotherwood returned to the charge, but Claude seemed even more inclined to refuse than the day before. Lilias could not divine what was the matter with him, and lingeredlong after her sisters had gone to school, to hear what answer hewould make; and when Mr. Mohun looked at his watch, and asked her ifshe knew how late it was, she rose from the breakfast-table with asigh, and thought while she was putting on her bonnet how much lessagreeable the school had been since the schism in the parish. Andbesides, now that Faith and Esther, and one or two others of her bestscholars, had gone away from school, there seemed to be no one of anyintelligence or knowledge left in the class, except Marianne Weston, who knew too much for the others, and one or two clever inattentivelittle girls: Lily almost disliked teaching them. Phyllis and Adeline were in Miss Weston's class, and much did theydelight in her teaching. There was a quiet earnestness in her mannerwhich attracted her pupils, and fixed their attention, so as scarcelyto allow the careless room for irreverence, while mere clevernessseemed almost to lose its advantage in learning what can only trulybe entered into by those whose conduct agrees with their knowledge. Phyllis never dreamt that she could be happy while standing still andlearning, till Miss Weston began to teach at the Sunday school. Obedience at school taught her to acquire habits of reverentattention, which gradually conquered the idleness and weariness whichhad once possessed her at church. First, she learnt to be interestedin the Historical Lessons, then never to lose her place in thePsalms, then to think about and follow some of the Prayers; by thistime she was far from feeling any fatigue at all on week-days; shehad succeeded in restraining any contortions to relieve herself fromthe irksomeness of sitting still, and had her thoughts in tolerableorder through the greater part of the Sunday service, and now it washer great wish, unknown to any one, to abstain from a single yawnthrough the whole service, including the sermon! Her place (chosen for her by Eleanor when first she had begun to goto Church, as far as possible from Reginald) was at the end of theseat, between her papa and the wall. This morning, as she put herarm on the book-board, while rising from kneeling, she felt a suddenthrill of sharp pain smear her left elbow, which made her startviolently, and would have caused a scream, had she not been inchurch. She saw a wasp fall on the ground, and was just about to puther foot on it, when she recollected where she was. She had never inher life intentionally killed anything, and this was no time to beginin that place, and when she was angry. The pain was severe--more soperhaps than any she had felt before--and very much frightened, shepulled her papa's coat to draw his attention. But her first pull wasso slight that he did not feel it, and before she gave a second sheremembered that she could not make him hear what was the matter, without more noise than was proper. No, she must stay where she was, and try to bear the pain, and she knew that if she did try, helpwould be given her. She proceeded to find out the Psalm and join hervoice with the others, though her heart was beating very fast, herforehead was contracted, and she could not help keeping her righthand clasped round her arm, and sometimes shifting from one foot tothe other. The sharpness of the pain soon went off; she was able toattend to the Lessons, and hoped it would soon be quite well; but assoon as she began to think about it, it began to ache and throb, andseemed each moment to be growing hotter. The sermon especially triedher patience, her cheeks were burning, she felt sick and hardly ableto hold up her head, yet she would not lean it against the wall, because she had often been told not to do so. She was exceedinglyalarmed to find that her arm had swelled so much that she couldhardly bend it, and it had received the impression of the gathers ofher sleeve; she thought no sermon had ever been so long, but she satquite still and upright, as she could not have done, had she nottrained herself unconsciously by her efforts to leave off the trickof kicking her heels together. She did not speak till she was in thechurchyard, and then she made Emily look at her arm. 'My poor child, it is frightful, ' said Emily, 'what is the matter?' 'A wasp stung me just before the Psalms, ' said Phyllis, 'and it goeson swelling and swelling, and it does pant!' 'What is the matter?' asked Mr. Mohun. 'Papa, just look, ' said Emily, 'a wasp stung this dear child quiteearly in the service, and she has been bearing it all this time insilence. Why did you not show me, Phyl?' 'Because it was in church, ' said the little girl. 'Why, Phyllis, you are a very Spartan, ' said Lord Rotherwood. 'Something better than a Spartan, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'Does it give youmuch pain now, my dear?' 'Not so bad as in church, ' said Phyllis, 'only I am very tired, andit is so hot. ' 'We will help you home, then, ' said Mr. Mohun. As he took her up inhis arms, Phyllis laughed, thanked him, replied to various inquiriesfrom her sisters and the Westons--laughed again at sundry jokes fromher brothers, then became silent, and was almost asleep, with herhead on her papa's shoulder, by the time they reached the hall-door. She thought it very strange to be laid down on the sofa in thedrawing-room, and to find every one attending to her. Mrs. Westonbathed her forehead with lavender-water, and Lily cut open the sleeveof her frock; Jane fetched all manner of remedies, and Emily pitiedher. She was rather frightened: she thought such a fuss would notbe made about her unless she was very ill; she was faint and tired, and was glad when Mrs. Weston proposed that they should all comeaway, and leave her to go to sleep quietly. Marianne was so absorbed in admiration of Phyllis that she did notspeak one word all the way from church to the New Court, and stood insilence watching the operations upon her friend, till Mrs. Westonsent every one away. Adeline rather envied Phyllis; she would willingly have endured thepain to be made of so much importance, and said to be better than aSpartan, which must doubtless be something very fine indeed! Phyllis was waked by the bells ringing for the afternoon service;Mrs. Weston was sitting by her, reading, Claude came to inquire forher, and to tell her that as she had lost her early dinner, she wasto join the rest of the party at six. To her great surprise she feltquite well and fresh, and her arm was much better; Mrs. Weston pinnedup her sleeve, and she set off with her to church, wondering whetherAda would remember to tell her what she had missed that afternoon atschool. Those whose approbation was valuable, honoured Phyllis forher conduct, but she did not perceive it, or seek for it; she did notlook like a heroine while running about and playing with Reginald andthe dogs in the evening, but her papa had told her she was a goodchild, Claude had given her one of his kindest smiles, and she washappy. Even when Esther was looking at the mark left by the sting, and telling her that she was sure Miss Marianne Weston would have notbeen half so good, her simple, humble spirit came to her aid, and sheanswered, 'I'll tell you what, Esther, Marianne would have behavedmuch better, for she is older, and never fidgets, and she would nothave been angry like me, and just going to kill the wasp. ' CHAPTER X--COUSIN ROTHERWOOD 'We care not who says And intends it dispraise, That an Angler to a fool is next neighbour. ' In the evening Lord Rotherwood renewed his entreaties to Claude tojoin him on his travels. He was very much bent on taking him, forhis own pleasure depended not a little on his cousin's company. Claude lay on the glassy slope of the terrace, while Lord Rotherwoodpaced rapidly up and down before him, persuading him with all theallurements he could think of, and looking the picture of impatience. Lily sat by, adding her weight to all his arguments. But Claude wasalmost contemptuous to all the beauties of Germany, and all thepromised sights; he scarcely gave himself the trouble to answer histormentors, only vouchsafing sometimes to open his lips to say thathe never meant to go to a country where people spoke a language thatsounded like cracking walnuts; that he hated steamers; had no fancyfor tumble-down castles; that it was so common to travel; there wasmore distinction in staying at home; that the field of Waterloo hadbeen spoilt, and was not worth seeing; his ideas of glaciers would beruined by the reality; and he did not care to see Cologne Cathedraltill it was finished. On this Lily set up an outcry of horror. 'One comfort is, Lily, ' said Lord Rotherwood, 'he does not mean it;he did not say it from the bottom of his heart. Now, confess you didnot, Claude. ' Claude pretended to be asleep. 'I see plainly enough, ' said the Marquis to Lily, 'it is as WatGreenwood says, "Mr. Reynold and the grapes. "' 'But it is not, ' said Lily, 'and that is what provokes me; papa sayshe is quite welcome to go if he likes, and that he thinks it will dohim a great deal of good, but that foolish boy will say nothing but"I will think about it, " and "thank you"' 'Then I give him up as regularly dense. ' 'It is the most delightful plan ever thought of, ' said Lily, 'soeasily done, and just bringing within his compass all he ever wishedto see. ' 'Oh! his sole ambition is to stretch those long legs of his on thegrass, like a great vegetable marrow, ' said Lord Rotherwood. 'It isvegetating like a plant that makes him so much taller than anyrational creature with a little animal life. ' 'I think Jane has his share of curiosity, ' said Lily, 'I am sure Ihad no idea that anything belonging to us could be so stupid. ' 'Well, ' said the Marquis, 'I shall not go. ' 'No?' said Lily. 'No, I shall certainly not go. ' 'Nonsense, ' said Claude, waking from his pretended sleep, 'why do younot ask Travers to go with you? He would like nothing better. ' 'He is a botanist, and would bore me with looking for weeds. No, Iwill have you, or stay at home. ' Claude proposed several others as companions, but Lord Rotherwoodtreated them all with as much disdain as Claude had shown forGermany, and ended with 'Now, Claude, you know my determination, onlytell me why you will not go?' 'Then I do tell you, Rotherwood, the truth is, that those boys, Maurice and Reginald, are perfectly unmanageable when they are leftalone with the girls. ' 'Have a tutor for them, ' said the Marquis. 'Very much obliged to you they would be for the suggestion, ' saidClaude. 'Oh! but Claude, ' said Lily. 'I really cannot go. They mind no one but the Baron and me, andbesides that, it would be no small annoyance to the house; ten tutorscould not keep them from indescribable bits of mischief. I undertookthem these holidays, and I mean to keep them. ' Lilias was just flying off to her father, when Claude caught hold ofher, saying, 'I desire you will not, ' and she stood still, looking ather cousin in dismay. 'It is all right, ' cried the Marquis, joyfully, 'it is only to setoff three weeks later. ' 'Oh! I thought you would not go a week later for the universe, ' saidClaude, smiling. 'Not for the Universe, but for U-, ' said Lord Rotherwood. 'Worthy of a companion true, of the University of Gottingen, ' saidClaude; 'but, Rotherwood, do you really mean that it will make nodifference to you?' 'None whatever; I meant to spend three weeks with my mother at theend of the tour, and I shall spend them now instead. I only talkedof going immediately, because nothing is done at all that is not donequickly, and I hate delays, but it is all the same, and now it standsfor Tuesday three weeks. Now we shall see what he says to Cologne, Lily. ' Claude sprung up, and began talking over arrangements andpossibilities with zest, which showed what his wishes had been fromthe first. All was quickly settled, and as soon as his father hadgiven his cordial approbation to the scheme, it was amusing to seehow animated and active Claude became, and in how different a stylehe talked of the once slighted Rhine. Lord Rotherwood told the boys that their brother was a great deal toogood for them, but they never troubled themselves to ask in whatrespect; Lilias took very great delight in telling Emily of thesacrifice which he had been willing to make, and looked forward totalking it over with Alethea, but she refrained, as long as he was athome, as she knew it would greatly displease him, and she had heardenough about missish confidences. The Marquis of Rotherwood was certainly the very reverse of hischosen travelling companion, in the matter of activity. He made anappointment with the two boys to get up at half-past four on Mondaymorning for some fishing, before the sun was too high--Maurice notcaring for the sport, but intending to make prize of any of the'insect youth' which might prefer the sunrise for their gambols; andReginald, in high delight at the prospect of real fishing, somethingbeyond his own performances with a stick and a string, in pursuit ofminnows in the ditches. Reginald was making contrivances for tying astring round his wrist and hanging the end of it from the window, that Andrew Grey might give it a pull as he went by to his work, towake him, when Lord Rotherwood exclaimed, 'What! cannot you wakeyourself at any time you please?' 'No, ' said Reginald, 'I never heard of any one that could. ' 'Then I advise you to learn the art; in the meantime I will call youto-morrow. ' Loud voices and laughter in the hall, and the front door creaking onits hinges at sunrise, convinced the household that this was no vainboast; before breakfast was quite over the fishermen were seenapproaching the house. Lord Rotherwood was an extraordinary figure, in an old shooting jacket of his uncle's, an enormous pair offishing-boots of William's, and the broad-brimmed straw hat, whichalways hung up in the hall, and was not claimed by any particularowner. Maurice displayed to Jane the contents of two phials, strange littlecreatures, with stranger names, of which he was as proud as Reginaldof his three fine trout. Lord Rotherwood did not appear till he hadmade himself look like other people, which he did in a surprisinglyshort time. He began estimating the weight of the fish, and talkingat his most rapid rate, till at last Claude said, 'Phyllis told usjust now that you were coming back, for that she heard CousinRotherwood talking, and it proved to be Jane's old turkey cockgobbling. ' 'No bad compliment, ' said Emily, 'for Phyllis was once known to say, on hearing a turkey cock, "How melodiously that nightingale sings. "' 'No, no! that was Ada, ' said Lilias. 'I could answer for that, ' said Claude. 'Phyllis is too familiarwith both parties to mistake their notes. Besides, she never wasknown to use such a word as melodiously. ' 'Do you remember, ' said the Marquis, 'that there was some greatlawyer who had three kinds of handwriting, one that the public couldread, one that only his clerk could read, and one that nobody couldread?' 'I suppose I am the clerk, ' said Claude, 'unless I divide the honourwith Florence. ' 'I do not think I am unintelligible anywhere but here, ' said LordRotherwood. 'There is nothing sufficiently exciting at home, ifGrosvenor Square is to be called home. ' 'Sometimes you do it without knowing it, ' said Lily. 'Yes, ' said Claude, 'when you do not exactly know what you are goingto say. ' 'Then it is no bad plan, ' said Lord Rotherwood. 'People aresatisfied, and you don't commit yourself. ' 'I'll tell you what, Cousin Rotherwood, ' exclaimed Phyllis, 'yourhand is bleeding. ' 'Is it? Thank you, Phyllis, I thought I had washed it off: now dofind me some sealing-wax--India-rub her--sticking-plaster, I mean. ' 'Oh! Rotherwood, ' said Emily, 'what a bad cut, how did it happen?' 'Only, I am the victim to Maurice's first essay in fishing. ' 'Just fancy what an awkward fellow Maurice is, ' said Reginald, 'hehad but one throw, and he managed to stick the hook into Rotherwood'shand. ' 'One of those barbed hooks? Oh! Rotherwood, how horrid!' said Emily. 'And he cut it out with his knife, and caught that great trout withit directly, ' said Reginald. 'And neither half drowned Maurice, nor sent him home again?' askedLily. 'I contented myself with taking away his weapon, ' said the Marquis;'and he wished for nothing better than to poke about in the guttersfor insects; it was only Redgie that teased him into the noblersport. ' Emily was inclined to make a serious matter of the accident, but hercousin said ten words while she said one, and by the time her firstsentence was uttered, she found him talking about his ride toDevereux Castle. He and Claude set out as soon as breakfast was over, and came backabout three o'clock; Claude was tired with the heat, and betookhimself to the sofa, where he fell asleep, under pretence of reading, but the indefatigable Marquis was ready and willing to set out withReginald and Wat Greenwood to shoot rabbits. Dinner-time came, and Emily sat at the drawing-room window withClaude and Lilias, lamenting her cousin's bad habits. 'Nothing willever make him punctual, ' said she. 'I am in duty bound to let you say nothing against him, ' said Claude. 'It is very good-natured in him to wait for you, ' said Lily, 'but itwould be horribly selfish to leave you behind. ' 'Delay is his great horror, ' said Claude, 'and the wonder of hischaracter is, that he is not selfish. No one had ever bettertraining for it. ' 'He does like his own way very much, ' said Lilias. 'Who does not?' said Claude. 'Nothing shows his sense so much, ' said Emily, 'as his greatattachment to papa--the only person who ever controlled him. ' 'And to Claude--his opposite in everything, ' said Lilias. 'I think he will tire you to death in Germany, ' said Emily. 'Never fear, ' said Claude, 'my vis inertiae is enough tocounterbalance any amount of restlessness. ' 'Here they come, ' said Lily; 'how Wat Greenwood is grinning atRotherwood's jokes!' 'A happy day for Wat, ' said Emily. 'He will be quite dejected ifWilliam is not at home next shooting season. He thinks you adegenerate Mohun, Claude. ' 'He must comfort himself with Redgie, ' said Claude. 'Rotherwood is only eager about shooting in common with everythingelse, ' said Lily, 'but Redgie, I fear, will care for nothing else. ' Lord Rotherwood came in, accounting for being late, as, in passingthrough a harvest field, he could not help attempting to reap. TheBeechcroft farming operations had been his especial amusement fromvery early days, and his plans were numerous for farming on a grandscale as soon as he should be of age. His talk during dinner was ofturnips and wheat, till at length Mr. Mohun asked him what he thoughtof the appearance of the castle. He said it was very forlorn; therooms looked so dreary and deserted that he could not bear to be inthem, and had been out of doors almost all the time. Indeed, he wasafraid he had disappointed the housekeeper by not complimenting heras she deserved, for the freezing dismal order in which she kepteverything. 'And really, ' said he, 'I must go again to-morrow andmake up for it, and Emily, you must come with me and try to devisesomething to make the unhappy place less like the abode of the Princeof the Black Islands. ' Emily willingly promised to go, and she went on talking to him, andtelling him whom he was to meet on the next day, when an unusualsilence making her look up, she beheld him more than half asleep. Reginald fidgeted and sighed, and Maurice grew graver and graver asthey thought of the wasps. Maurice wanted to take a nest entire, andbegan explaining his plan to Claude. 'You see, Claude, burning some straw and then digging, spoils thecombs, as Wat does it; now I have got some puff-balls and sulphur toput into the hole, and set fire to them with a lucifer match, so asto stifle the wasps, and then dig them out quietly to-morrowmorning. ' 'It is all of no use, if that Rotherwood will do nothing but sleep, 'said Reginald, in a disconsolate tone. 'You should not have made him get up at four, ' said Emily. 'Who! I?' exclaimed the Marquis. 'I never was wider awake. Whatare you waiting for, Reginald? I thought you were going to takewasps' nests. ' 'You are much too tired, I am sure, ' said Emily. 'Tired! not in the least, I have done nothing to-day to tire me, 'said Lord Rotherwood, walking up and down the room to keep himselfawake. The whole party went out, and found Wat Greenwood waiting for themwith a bundle of straw, a spade, and a little gunpowder. Mauricecarried a basket containing all his preparations, on which Wat lookedwith supreme contempt, telling him that his puffs were too green tomake a smeech. Maurice, not condescending to argue the point, ran onto a nest which Reginald had marked on one of the green banks of theancient moat. 'Take care that the wasps are all come in; mind what you are about, Maurice, ' called his father. 'Master Maurice, ' shouted Wat, 'you had better take a green bough. ' 'Never mind, Wat, ' said Lord Rotherwood, 'he would not stay longenough to use it if he had it. ' Reginald ran after Maurice, who had just reached the nest. 'There is one coming in, the evening is so warm they are not quietyet. ' 'I'll quiet them, ' said Maurice, kneeling down, and putting his firstpuff-ball into the hole. Reginald stood by with a sly smile, as he pulled a branch off aneighbouring filbert-tree. The next moment Maurice gave a suddenyell, 'The wasps! the wasps!' and jumping up, and tripping at hisfirst step, rolled down the bank, and landed safely at LordRotherwood's feet. The shouts of laughter were loud, but he regardedthem not, and as soon as he recovered his feet, rushed past hissisters, and never stopped till he reached the house. Redgie stoodalone, in the midst of a cloud of wasps, beating them off with abough, roaring with laughter, and calling Wat to bring the straw toburn them. 'No, no, Redgie, come away, leave them for Maurice to try again, 'said his father. 'The brute, he stung me, ' cried Reginald, knocking down a wasp or twoas he came down. 'What is this?' added he, as he stumbled oversomething at the bottom of the slope. 'Oh! Maurice's basket; lookhere--laudanum--did he mean to poison the wasps?' 'No, ' said Jane, 'to cure their stings. ' 'The poor unhappy quiz!' cried Reginald. While the others were busy over a nest, Mr. Mohun asked Emily how theboy got at the medicine chest. Emily looked confused, and said shesupposed Jane had given him a bottle. 'Jane is too young to be trusted there, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'I thoughtyou knew better; do not let the key be out of your possession again. ' After a few more nests had been taken in the usual manner, theyreturned to the house. Maurice was lying on the sofa reading thePenny Magazine, from which he raised his eyes no more that evening, in spite of all the jokes which flew about respecting woundedknights, courage, and the balsam of Fierabras. He called Jane toteach her how flies were made, and as soon as tea was over he went tobed. Reginald, after many yawns, prepared to follow his example, andas he was wishing his sisters good-night, Emily said, 'Now, Redgie, do not go out at such a preposterous hour to-morrow morning. ' 'What is that to you?' was Reginald's courteous inquiry. 'I do not wish to see every one fast asleep to-morrow evening, ' saidEmily, and she looked at her cousin, whose head was far back over hischair. 'He is a Trojan, ' said Reginald. 'Is a Trojan better than a Spartan?' asked Ada, meditatively. 'Helen thought so, ' said Claude. '"When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war, "' muttered theMarquis. 'You are all talking Greek, ' said Jane. 'Arabic, ' said Claude. As far as it could be comprehended, Lord Rotherwood's answer relatedto Maurice and the wasps. 'There, ' said Emily, 'what is to be done if he is in that conditionto-morrow?' 'I am not asleep; what makes you think I am?' 'I wish you would sit in that great chair, ' said Emily, 'I am afraidyou will break your neck; you look so uncomfortable, I cannot bear tosee you. ' 'I never was more comfortable in my life, ' said Lord Rotherwood, asleep while finishing the sentence; but this time, happily with hiselbows on the table, and his head in a safer position. The next day was spent rather more rationally. Lord Rotherwood metwith a book of Irish Tales, with which he became so engrossed that hedid not like to leave it when Emily and Claude were ready to ride toDevereux Castle with him. When there he was equally eager andvehement about each matter that came under consideration, and so manypresented themselves, that Emily began to be in agonies lest sheshould not be at home in time to dress and receive her guests. Theydid, however, reach the house before Lilias, who had been walkingwith Miss Weston, came in, and when she went upstairs, she foundEmily full of complaints at the inconvenience of having no Rachel toassist her in dressing, and to see that everything was in order, andthat Phyllis was fit to appear when she came down in the evening;but, by the assistance of Lily and Jane, she got over her troubles, and when she went into the drawing-room, she was much relieved tofind her two gentlemen quite safe and dressed. She had been in greatfear of Lord Rotherwood's straying away to join in some of Reginald'ssports, and was grateful to the Irish book for keeping him out ofmischief. Emily was in her glory; it was the first large dinner-party sinceEleanor had gone, and though she pitied herself for having thetrouble of entertaining the people, she really enjoyed the feelingthat she now appeared as the mistress of New Court, with her cousin, the Marquis, by her side, to show how highly she was connected. Andeverything went off just as could be wished. Lord Rotherwood talkedintelligibly and sensibly, and Mr. Mohun's neighbour at dinner had avoice which he could hear. Lily's pleasure was not less than hersister's, though of a different kind. She delighted in thinking howwell Emily did the honours, in watching the varied expression of LordRotherwood's animated countenance, in imagining Claude's forehead tobe finer than that of any one else, and in thinking how people mustadmire Reginald's tall, active figure, and very handsome face. Shewas asked to play, and did tolerably well, but was too shy to sing, nor, indeed, was Reginald encouraging. 'What is the use of yoursinging, Lily? If it was like Miss Weston's, now--' Reginald had taken a great fancy to Miss Weston; he stood by her allthe evening, and afterwards let her talk to him, and then began tochatter himself, at last becoming so confidential as to impart to herthe grand object of his ambition, which was to be taller than Claude! The next morning Lord Rotherwood left Beechcroft, somewhat to Emily'srelief; for though she was very proud of him, and much enjoyed thedignity of being seen to talk familiarly with him, yet, when nostrangers were present, and he became no more than an ordinarycousin, she was worried by his incessant activity, and desire to see, know, and do everything as fast and as thoroughly as possible. Shecould not see the use of such vehemence; she liked to take things ina moderate way, and as Claude said, much preferred the passive to theactive voice. Claude, on the contrary, was ashamed of hisconstitutional indolence, looked on it as a temptation, and struggledagainst it, almost envying his cousin his unabated eagerness anduntiring energy, and liking to be with him, because no one else soeffectually roused him from his habitual languor. His indolence was, however, so much the effect of ill health, that exertion wassometimes scarcely in his power, especially in hot weather, and bythe time his brothers' studies were finished each day, he was unfitfor anything but to lie on the grass under the plane-tree. The days glided on, and the holidays came to an end; Maurice spentthem in adding to his collection of insects, which, with Jane'sassistance, he arranged very neatly; and Reginald and Phyllisperformed several exploits, more agreeable to themselves thansatisfactory to the more rational part of the New Court community. At the same time, Reginald's devotion to Miss Weston increased; henever moved from her side when she sang, did not fail to be of theparty when she walked with his sisters, offered her one of his ownpuppies, named his little ship 'Alethea, ' and was even tolerablycivil to Marianne. At length the day of departure came; the boys returned to school, Claude joined Lord Rotherwood, and the New Court was again in a stateof tranquillity. CHAPTER XI--DANCING 'Prescribe us not our duties. ' 'Well, Phyllis, ' said her father, as he passed through the hall tomount his horse, 'how do you like the prospect of Monsieur le Roi'sinstructions?' 'Not at all, papa, ' answered Phyllis, running out to the hall door topat the horse, and give it a piece of bread. 'Take care you turn out your toes, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'You must learnto dance like a dragon before Cousin Rotherwood's birthday nextyear. ' 'Papa, how do dragons dance?' 'That is a question I must decide at my leisure, ' said Mr. Mohun, mounting. 'Stand out of the way, Phyl, or you will feel how horsesdance. ' Away he rode, while Phyllis turned with unwilling steps to thenursery, to be dressed for her first dancing lesson; Marianne Westonwas to learn with her, and this was some consolation, but Phylliscould not share in the satisfaction Adeline felt in the arrival ofMonsieur le Roi. Jane was also a pupil, but Lily, whoserecollections of her own dancing days were not agreeable, absentedherself entirely from the dancing-room, even though Alethea Westonhad come with her sister. Poor Phyllis danced as awkwardly as was expected, but Adeline seemedlikely to be a pupil in whom a master might rejoice; Marianne wasvery attentive and not ungraceful, but Alethea soon saw reason toregret the arrangement that had been made, for she perceived thatJane considered the master a fair subject for derision, and her 'nodsand becks, and wreathed smiles, ' called up corresponding looks inMarianne's face. 'Oh Brownie, you are a naughty thing!' said Emily, as soon as M. LeRoi had departed. 'He really was irresistible!' said Jane. 'I suppose ridicule is one of the disagreeables to which a dancing-master makes up his mind, ' said Alethea. 'Yes, ' said Jane, 'one can have no compunction in quizzing thatspecies. ' 'I do not think I can quite say that, Jane, ' said Miss Weston. 'This man especially lays himself open to ridicule, ' said Jane; 'doyou know, Alethea, that he is an Englishman, and his name is King, only he calls himself Le Roi, and speaks broken English!' Though Alethea joined in the general laugh, she did not feel quitesatisfied; she feared that if not checked in time, Jane would proceedto actual impertinence, and that Marianne would be tempted to followher example, but she did not like to interfere, and only advisedMarianne to be on her guard, hoping that Emily would also speakseriously to her sister. On the next occasion, however, Jane ventured still farther; hergrimaces were almost irresistible, and she had a most comical mannerof imitating the master's attitudes when his eye was not upon her, and putting on a demure countenance when he turned towards her, whichsorely tried Marianne. 'What shall I do, Alethea?' said the little girl, as the sisterswalked home together; 'I do not know how to help laughing, if Janewill be so very funny. ' 'I am afraid we must ask mamma to let us give up the dancing, 'replied Alethea; 'the temptation is almost too strong, and I do notthink she would wish to expose you to it. ' 'But, Alethea, why do not you speak to Jane?' asked Marianne; 'no oneseems to tell her it is wrong; Miss Mohun was almost laughing. ' 'I do not think Jane would consider that I ought to find fault withher, ' said Alethea. 'But you would not scold her, ' urged Marianne; 'only put her in mindthat it is not right, not kind; that Monsieur le Roi is in authorityover her for the time. ' 'I will speak to mamma, ' said Alethea, 'perhaps it will be betternext time. ' And it was better, for Mr. Mohun happening to be at home, was draggedinto the dancing-room by Emily and Ada. Once, when she thought hewas looking another way, Jane tried to raise a smile, but a stern'Jane, what are you thinking of?' recalled her to order, and when thelesson was over her father spoke gravely to her, telling her that hethought few things more disgusting in a young lady than impertinencetowards her teachers; and then added, 'Miss Weston, I hope you keepstrict watch over these giddy young things. ' Awed by her father, Jane behaved tolerably well at that time and thenext, and Miss Weston hoped her interference would not be needed, butas if to make up for this restraint, her conduct a fortnight afterwas quite beyond bearing. She used every means to make Mariannelaugh, and at last went so far as to pretend to think that M. Le Roihad not understood what she said in English, and to translate it intoFrench. Poor Marianne looked imploringly at her sister, and Aletheahoped that Emily would interpose, but Emily was turning away her headto conceal a laugh, and Miss Weston was obliged to give Jane a verygrave look, which she perfectly understood, though she pretended notto see it. When the exercise was over Miss Weston made her a sign toapproach, and said, 'Jane, do you think your papa would have liked--' 'What do you mean?' said Jane, 'I have not been laughing. ' 'You know what I mean, ' said Alethea, 'and pray do not be displeasedif I ask you not to make it difficult for Marianne to behaveproperly. ' Jane drew up her head and went back to her place. She played no moretricks that day, but as soon as the guests were gone, began tellingLilias how Miss Weston had been meddling and scolding her. 'And well you must have deserved it, ' said Lily. 'I do not say that Jenny was right, ' said Emily, 'but I think MissWeston might allow me to correct my own sister in my own house. ' 'You correct Jane!' cried Lily, and Jane laughed. 'I only mean, ' said Emily, 'that it was not very polite, and papasays the closest friendship is no reason for dispensing with therules of politeness. ' 'Certainly not, ' said Lily, 'the rules of politeness are rules oflove, and it was in love that Alethea spoke; she sees how sadly weare left to ourselves, and is kind enough to speak a word in season. ' 'Perhaps, ' said Jane, 'since it was in love that she spoke, you wouldlike to have her for our reprover for ever, and I can assure you moreunlikely things have happened. I have heard it from one who canjudge. ' 'Let me hear no more of this, ' said Emily, 'it is preposterous andridiculous, and very disrespectful to papa. ' Jane for once, rather shocked at her own words, went back to what hadbeen said just before. 'Then, perhaps, you would like to have Eleanor back again?' 'I am sure you want some one to put you in mind of your duty, ' saidLily. 'Eleanor and duty!' cried Emily; 'you who thought so much of thepower of love!' 'Of Emily and love, she would say, if it sounded well, ' said Jane. 'I cannot see what true love you or Jane are showing now, ' said Lily, 'it is no kindness to encourage her pertness, or to throw away afriendly reproof because it offends your pride. ' 'Nobody reproved me, ' replied Emily; 'besides, I know love willprevail; for my sake Jane will not expose herself and me to astranger's interference. ' 'If you depend upon that, I wish you joy, ' said Lilias, as she leftthe room. 'What a weathercock Lily is!' cried Jane, 'she has fallen in lovewith Alethea Weston, and echoes all she says. ' 'Not considering her own inconsistency, ' said Emily. 'That Alethea Weston, ' exclaimed Jane, in an angry tone;--but Emily, beginning to recover some sense of propriety, said, 'Jenny, you knowyou were very ill-bred, and you made it difficult for the little onesto behave well. ' 'Not our own little ones, ' said Jane; 'honest Phyl did not understandthe joke, and Ada was thinking of her attitudes; one comfort is, thatI shall be confirmed in three weeks' time, and then people cannottreat me as a mere child--little as I am. ' 'Oh! Jane, ' said Emily, 'I do not like to hear you talk ofconfirmation in that light way. ' 'No, no, ' said Jane, 'I do not mean it--of course I do not mean it--don't look shocked--it was only by the bye--and another by the bye, Emily, you know I must have a cap and white ribbons, and I am afraidI must make it myself. ' 'Ay, that is the worst of having Esther, ' said Emily, 'she and Hannahhave no notion of anything but the plainest work; I am sure if I hadthought of all the trouble of that kind which having a young girlwould entail, I would never have consented to Esther's coming. ' 'That was entirely Lily's scheme, ' said Jane. 'Yes; it is impossible to resist Lily, she is so eager and anxious, and it would have vexed her very much if I had opposed her, and thatI cannot bear; besides, Esther is a very nice girl, and will learn. ' 'There is Robert talking to papa on the green, ' said Jane; 'what adeep conference; what can it be about?' If Jane had heard that conversation she might have perceived that shecould not wilfully offend, even in what she thought a triflingmatter, without making it evident, even to others, that there wassomething very wrong about her. At that moment the Rector was sayingto his uncle, 'I am in doubt about Jane, I cannot but fear she is notin a satisfactory state for confirmation, and I wished to ask youwhat you think?' 'Act just as you would with any of the village girls, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'I should be very sorry to do otherwise, ' said Mr. Devereux; 'but Ithought you might like, since every one knows that she is acandidate, that she should not be at home at the time of theconfirmation, if it is necessary to refuse her. ' 'No, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'I should not wish to shield her from thedisgrace. It may be useful to her, and besides, it will establishyour character for impartiality. I have not been satisfied with allI saw of little Jane for some time past, and I am afraid that muchpasses amongst my poor girls which never comes to my knowledge. Herpertness especially is probably restrained in my presence. ' 'It is not so much the pertness that I complain of, ' said Mr. Devereux, 'for that might be merely exuberance of spirits, but thereis a sort of habitual irreverence, which makes one dread to bring hernearer to sacred tings. ' 'I know what you mean, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'and I think the pertness isa branch of it, more noticed because more inconvenient to others. ' 'Yes, ' said Mr. Devereux, 'I think the fault I speak of is mostevident; when there is occasion to reprove her, I am always baffledby a kind of levity which makes every warning glance aside. ' 'Then I should decidedly say refuse her, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'It wouldbe a warning that she could not disregard, and the best chance ofimproving her. ' 'Yet, ' said Mr. Devereux, 'if she is eager for confirmation, andregards it in its proper light, it is hard to say whether it is rightto deny it to her; it may give her the depth and earnestness whichshe needs. ' 'Poor child, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'she has great disadvantages; I amquite sure our present system is not fit for her. Things shall beplaced on a different footing, and in another year or two I hope shemay be fitter for confirmation. However, before you finally decide, I should wish to have some conversation with her, and speak to youagain. 'That is just what I wish, ' said Mr. Devereux. CHAPTER XII--THE FEVER 'Jane borrowed maxims from a doubting school, And took for truth the test of ridicule. ' The question of Jane's confirmation was decided in an unexpectedmanner; for the day after Mr. Mohun's conversation with his nephewshe was attacked by a headache and sore throat, spent a feverishnight, and in the morning was so unwell that a medical man was sentfor from Raynham. On his arrival he pronounced that she wassuffering from scarlet fever, and Emily began to feel the approach ofthe same complaint. Phyllis and Adeline were shut up in the drawing-room, and a system ofquarantine established, which was happily brought to a conclusion bya note from Mrs. Weston, who kindly begged that they might be sent toher at Broomhill, and Mr. Mohun gladly availing himself of the offer, the little girls set off, so well pleased to make a visit alone, asalmost to forget the occasion of it. Mrs. Weston had extended herinvitation to Lilias, but she begged to be allowed to remain with hersisters, and Mr. Mohun thought that she had been already so muchexposed to the infection that it was useless for her to take anyprecautions. She was therefore declared head nurse; and it was well that she hadan energetic spirit, and so sweet a temper, that she was ready tosympathise with all Emily's petulant complaints, and even to findfault with herself for not being in two places at once. Two of themaids were ill, and the whole care of Emily and Jane devolved uponher, with only the assistance of Esther. Emily was not very seriously ill, but Jane's fever was very high, andLily thought that her father was more anxious than he chose toappear. Of Jane's own thoughts little could be guessed; she wasoften delirious, and at all times speaking was so painful that shesaid as little as possible. Lily's troubles seemed at their height one Sunday afternoon, whileher father was at church. She had been reading the Psalms andLessons to Emily, and she then rose to return to Jane. 'Do not go, ' entreated Emily. 'I will send Esther. ' 'Esther is of no use. ' 'And therefore I do not like to leave her so long alone with Jane. Pray spare me a little smile. ' 'Then come back soon. ' Lily was glad to escape with no more objections. She found Janecomplaining of thirst, but to swallow gave her great pain, and sherequired so much attendance for some little time, that Emily's bellwas twice rung before Esther could be spared to go to her. She soon came back, saying, 'Miss Mohun wants you directly, MissLilias. ' 'Tell her I will come presently, ' said Lily, who had one hand pressedon Jane's burning temples, while the other was sprinkling her withether. 'Stay, ' said Jane, faintly, and Esther left the room. Jane drew her breath with so much difficulty that a dreadful terrorseized upon Lily, lest she should be suffocated. She raised herhead, and supported her till Esther could bring more pillows. Estherbrought a message from Emily to hasten her return; but Jane could notbe left, and the grateful look she gave her as she arranged thepillows repaid her for all her toils. After a little time Janebecame more comfortable, and said in a whisper, 'Dear Lily, I wish Iwas not so troublesome. ' Back came Esther at this moment, saying, 'Miss Emily says she isworse, and wants you directly, Miss Lilias. ' Lily hurried away to Emily's room, and found what might well havetried her temper. Emily was flushed indeed, and feverish, but herbreathing was smooth and even, and her hand and pulse cool and slow, compared with the parched burning hands, and throbbings, too quick tocount, which Lily had just been watching. 'Well, my dear Emily, I am sorry you do not feel better; what can Ido for you?' 'How can I be better while I am left so long, and Esther not comingwhen I ring? What would happen if I were to faint away?' 'Indeed, I am very sorry, ' said Lily; 'but when you rang, poor Jennycould spare neither of us. ' 'How is poor Jenny?' said Emily. 'Her throat is very bad, but she is quite sensible now, and wishes tohave me there. What did you want, Emily?' 'Oh! I wish you would draw the curtain, the light hurts me; thatwill do--no--now it is worse, pray put it as it was before. Oh!Lily, if you knew how ill I am you would not leave me. ' 'Can I do anything for you--will you have some coffee?' 'Oh! no, it has a bad taste, I am sure it is carelessly made. ' 'Shall I make you some fresh, with the spirit lamp?' 'No, I am tired of it. I wonder if I might have some tamarinds?' 'I will ask as soon as papa comes from church. ' 'Is he gone to church? how could he go when we are all so ill?' 'Perhaps he was doing us more good at church than he could at home. You will be glad to hear, Emily, that he has sent for Rachel to comeand help us. ' 'Oh! has he? but she lives so far off, and gets her letters soseldom, I don't reckon at all upon her coming. If she could comedirectly it would be a comfort. ' 'It would, indeed, ' said Lily; 'she would know what to do for Jane. ' 'Lily, where is the ether? You are always taking it away. ' 'In Jane's room; I will fetch it. ' 'No, no, if you once get into Jane's room I shall never see you backagain. ' Now Emily knew that Jane was very ill, and Lily's pale cheeks, heavyeyes, and failing voice, might have reminded her that two sickpersons were a heavy charge upon a girl of seventeen, without theaddition of her caprices and fretfulness. And how was it that thekind-hearted, affectionate Emily never thought of all this? It wasbecause she had been giving way to selfishness for nineteen years;and now the contemplation of her own sufferings was quite enough tohide from her that others had much to bear; and illness, instead ofteaching her patience and consideration, only made her more exactingand querulous. To Lily's unspeakable relief, Miss Weston accompanied Mr. Mohun fromchurch, and offered to share her attendance. No one knew what itcost Alethea to come into the midst of a scene which constantlyreminded her of the sisters she had lost, but she did not shrink fromit, and was glad that her parents saw no objection to her offering toshare Lily's toils. Her experience was most valuable, and relievedLilias of the fear that was continually haunting her, lest herignorance might lead to some fatal mistake. The next day broughtRachel, and both patients began to mend. Jane's recovery was quickerthan Emily's, for her constitution was not so languid, and having nopleasure in the importance of being an invalid, she was willing toexert herself, and make the best of everything, while Emily did notmuch like to be told that she was better, and thought it cruel tohint that exertion would benefit her. Both were convalescent beforethe fever attacked Lily, who was severely ill, but not alarmingly so, and her gentleness and patience made Alethea delight in having thecare of her. Lily was full of gratitude to her kind friend, and feltquite happy when Alethea chanced one day to call her by the name ofEmma; she almost hoped she was taking the place of that sister, andthe thought cheered her through many languid hours, and gave doublevalue to all Alethea's kindness. She did not feel disposed to repineat an illness which brought out such affection from her friend, andstill more from her father, who, when he came to see her, would saythings which gave her a thrill of pleasure whenever she thought ofthem. It happened one day that Jane, having finished her book, looked roundfor some other occupation; she knew that Miss Weston had walked toBroomhill; Rachael was with Lilias, and there was no amusement athand. At last she recollected that her papa had said in the morning, that he hoped to see her and Emily in the schoolroom in the course ofthe day, and hoping to meet her sister, she resolved to try and getthere. The room had been Mr. Mohun's sitting-room since thebeginning of their illness, and it looked so very comfortable thatshe was glad she had come, though she was so tired she wondered howshe should get back again. Emily was not there, so she lay down onthe sofa and took up a little book from the table. The title wasSusan Harvey, or Confirmation, and she read it with more interest asshe remembered with a pang that this was the day of the confirmation, to which she had been invited; she soon found herself shedding tearsover the book, she who had never yet been known to cry at any story, however affecting. She had not finished when Mr. Devereux came in tolook for Mr. Mohun, and finding her there, was going away as soon ashe had congratulated her on having left her room, but she begged himto stay, and began asking questions about the confirmation. 'Were there many people?' 'Three hundred. ' 'Did the Stoney Bridge people make a disturbance?' 'No. ' 'How many of our people?' 'Twenty-seven. ' 'Did all the girls wear caps?' 'Most of them. ' Jane was rather surprised at the shortness of her cousin's answers, but she went on, as he stood before the fire, apparently in deepthought. 'Was Miss Burnet confirmed? She is the dullest girl I ever knew, andshe is older than I am. Was she confused?' 'She was. ' 'Did you give Mary Wright a ticket?' 'No. ' 'Then, of course, you did not give one to Ned Long. I thought youwould never succeed in making him remember which is the ninthcommandment. ' 'I did not refuse him. ' 'Indeed! did he improve in a portentous manner?' 'Not particularly. ' 'Well, you must have been more merciful than I expected. ' 'Indeed!' 'Robert, you must have lost the use of your tongue, for want of us totalk to. I shall be affronted if you go into a brown study the firstday of seeing me. ' He smiled in a constrained manner, and after a few minutes said, 'Ihave been considering whether this is a fit time to tell you whatwill give you pain. You must tell me if you can bear it. ' 'About Lily, or the little ones?' 'No, no! only about yourself. Your father wished me to speak to you, but I would not have done so on this first meeting, but what you havejust been saying makes me think this is the best occasion. ' 'Let me know; I do not like suspense, ' said Jane, sharply. 'I think it right to tell you, Jane, that neither your father nor Ithought it would be desirable for you to be confirmed at this time. ' 'Do you really mean it?' said Jane. 'Look back on the past year, and say if you sincerely think you arefit for confirmation. ' 'As to that, ' said Jane, 'the best people are always saying that theyare not fit for these things. ' 'None can call themselves worthy of them; but I think the conscienceof some would bear them witness that they had profited so far bytheir present means of grace as to give grounds for hoping that theywould derive benefit from further assistance. ' 'Well, I suppose I must be very bad, since you see it, ' said Jane, ina manner rather more subdued; 'but I did not think myself worse thanother people. ' 'Is a Christian called, only to be no worse than others?' 'Oh no! I see, I mean--pray tell me my great fault. Pertness, Isuppose--love of gossip?' 'There must be a deeper root of evil, of which these are but thevisible effects, Jane. ' 'What do you mean, Robert?' said Jane, now seeming really impressed. 'I think, Jane, that the greatest and most dangerous fault of yourcharacter is want of reverence. I think it is want of reverencewhich makes you press forward to that for which you confess yourselfunfit; it is want of reverence for holiness which makes you not careto attain it; want of reverence for the Holy Word that makes youtreat it as a mere lesson; and in smaller matters your pertness iswant of reverence for your superiors; you would not be ready tobelieve and to say the worst of others, if you reverenced what goodthere may be in them. Take care that your want of reverence is notin reality want of faith. ' Jane's spirits were weak and subdued. It was a great shock to her tohear that she was not thought worthy of confirmation; her faults hadnever been called by so hard a name; she was in part humbled, and inpart grieved, and what she thought harshness in her cousin; sheturned away her face, and did not speak. He continued, 'Jane, youmust not think me unkind, your father desired me to talk to you, and, indeed, the time of recovery from sickness is too precious to betrifled away. ' Jane wept bitterly. Presently he said, 'It grieves me to have beenobliged to speak harshly to you, you must forgive me if I have talkedtoo much to you, Jane. ' Jane tried to speak, but sobs prevented her, and she gave way to aviolent fit of crying. Her cousin feared he had been unwise insaying so much, and had weakened the effect of his own words. Hewould have been glad to see tears of repentance, but he was afraidthat she was weeping over fancied unkindness, and that he might havedone what might be hurtful to her in her weak state. He said a fewkind words, and tried to console her, but this change of tone ratheradded to her distress, and she became hysterical. He was much vexedand alarmed, and, ringing the bell, hastened to call assistance. Hefound Esther, and sent her to Jane, and on returning to theschoolroom with some water, he found her lying exhausted on the sofa;he therefore went in search of his uncle, who was overlooking somefarming work, and many were the apologies made, and many theassurances he received, that it would be better for her in the end, as the impression would be more lasting. Jane was scarcely conscious of her cousin's departure, or of Esther'sarrival, but after drinking some water, and lying still for a fewmoments, she exclaimed, 'Oh, Robert! oh, Esther! the confirmation!'and gasped and sobbed again. Esther thought she had guessed thecause of her tears, and tried to comfort her. 'Ah! Miss Jane, there will be another confirmation some day; it was asad thing you were too ill, to be sure, but--' 'Oh! if I had--if he would not say--if he had thought me fit. ' Esther was amazed, and asked if she should call Miss Weston, who wasnow with Lilias. 'No, no!' cried Jane, nearly relapsing into hysterics. 'She shallnot see me in this state. ' Esther hardly knew what to do, but she tried to soothe and comforther by following what was evidently the feeling predominating inJane's mind, as indicated by her broken sentences, and said, 'It wasa pity, to be sure, that Mr. Devereux came and talked so long, hecould not know of your being so very weak, Miss Jane. ' 'Yes, ' said Jane, faintly, 'I could have borne it better if he hadwaited a few days. ' 'Yes, Miss, when you had not been so very ill. Mr. Devereux is avery good gentleman, but they do say he is very sharp. ' 'He means to be kind, ' said Jane, 'but I do not think he has muchconsideration, always. ' 'Yes, Miss Jane, that is just what Mrs. White said, when--' Esther's speech was cut short by the entrance of Miss Weston. Janestarted up, dashed off her tears, and tried to look as usual, but thepaleness of her face, and the redness of her eyes, made thisimpossible, and she was obliged to lie down again. Esther left theroom, and Miss Weston did not feel intimate enough with Jane to askany questions; she gave her some sal volatile, talked kindly to herof her weakness, and offered to read to her; all the time leaving anopening for confidence, if Jane wished to relieve her mind. The bookwhich lay near her accounted, as she thought, for her agitation, andshe blamed herself for having judged her harshly as deficient infeeling, now that she found her so much distressed, because illnesshad prevented her confirmation. Under this impression she honouredher reserve, while she thought with more affection of Lily's openheart. Jane, who never took, or expected others to take, the mostfavourable view of people's motives, thought Alethea knew the causeof her distress, and disliked her the more, as having witnessed herhumiliation. Such was Jane's love of gossip that the next time she was alone withEsther she asked for the history of Mrs. White, thus teaching hermaid disrespect to her pastor, indirectly complaining of hisunkindness, and going far to annul the effect of what she had learntat school. Perhaps during her hysterics Jane's conduct was not undercontrol, but subsequent silence was in her power, and could she befree from blame if Esther's faults gained greater ascendency? The next day Mr. Mohun attempted to speak to Jane, but being bothfrightened and unhappy, she found it very easy and natural, as wellas very convenient, to fall into hysterics again, and her father wasobliged to desist, regretting that, at the only time she was subduedenough to listen to reproof, she was too weak to bear it withoutinjury. Rachel, who was nearly as despotic among the young ladies asshe had been in former times in the nursery, now insisted on Emily'sgoing into the schoolroom, and when there, she made rapid progress. Alethea was amused to see how Jane's decided will and lively spiritwould induce Emily to make exertions, which no persuasions of herscould make her think other than impossible. A few days more, and they were nearly well again; and Lilias so farrecovered as to be able to spare her kind friend, who returned homewith a double portion of Lily's love, and of deep gratitude from Mr. Mohun; but these feelings were scarcely expressed in words. Emilygave her some graceful thanks, and Jane disliked her more than ever. It was rather a dreary time that now commenced with the young ladies;they were tired of seeing the same faces continually, and dispiritedby hearing that the fever was spreading in the village. The autumnwas far advanced, the weather was damp and gloomy, and the sisterssat round the fire shivering with cold, feeling the large room drearyand deserted, missing the merry voices of the children, and muchtormented by want of occupation. They could not go out, their handswere not steady enough to draw, they felt every letter which they hadto write a heavy burden; neither Emily nor Lily could likeneedlework; they could have no music, for the piano at the other endof the room seemed to be in an Arctic Region, and they did little butread novels and childish stories, and play at chess or backgammon. Jane was the best off. Mrs. Weston sent her a little sock, with arequest that she would make out the way in which it was knit, in acomplicated feathery pattern, and in puzzling over her cotton, takingstitches up and letting them down, she made the time pass a littleless heavily with her than with her sisters. CHAPTER XIII--A CURIOSITY MAP 'Keek into the draw-well, Janet, Janet, There ye'll see your bonny sell, My jo Janet. ' It was at this time that Lady Rotherwood and her daughter arrived atDevereux Castle, and Mr. Mohun was obliged to go to meet her there, leaving his three daughters to spend a long winter evening bythemselves, in their doleful and dismal way, as Lily called it. The evening had closed in, but they did not ring for candles, lestthey should make it seem longer; and Jane was just beginning to laughat Emily for the deplorable state of her frock and collar, tumbledwith lying on the sofa, when the three girls all started at theunexpected sound of a ring at the front door. With a rapid and joyful suspicion who it might be, Emily and Liliassprang to the door, Jane thrust the poker into the fire, in adesperate attempt to produce a flame, drove an arm-chair off thehearth-rug, whisked an old shawl out of sight, and flew after theminto the hall, just as the deep tones of a well-known voice wereheard greeting old Joseph. 'William!' cried the girls. 'Oh! is it you? Are you not afraid ofthe scarlet fever?' 'No, who has it?' 'We have had it, but we are quite well now. How cold you are!' 'But where is my father?' 'Gone to Hetherington with Robert, to meet Aunt Rotherwood. Comeinto the drawing-room. ' Here Emily glided off to perform a hurried toilette. 'And the little ones?' 'At Broomhill. Mrs. Weston was so kind as to take them out of theway of the infection, ' said Lily. 'Oh! William, those Westons!' 'Westons, what Westons? Not those I knew at Brighton?' 'The very same, ' said Lily. 'They have taken the house at Broomhill. Oh! they have been so very kind, I do not know what would have becomeof us without Alethea. ' 'Why did you not tell me they were living here? And you like them?' 'Like them! No one can tell the comfort Alethea has been. She cameto us and nursed us, and has been my great support. ' 'And Phyllis and Ada are with them?' 'Yes, they have been at Broomhill these six weeks, and more. ' Here Emily came in and told William that his room was ready, andRachel on the stairs wishing to see the Captain. 'How well he looks!' cried Lily, as he closed the door; 'it is quiterefreshing to see any one looking so strong and bright. ' 'And more like Sir Maurice than ever, ' said Emily. 'Ah! but Claude is more like, ' said Lily, 'because he is pale. ' 'Well, ' said Jane, 'do let us in the meantime make the room look morefit to be seen before he comes down. ' The alacrity which had long been wanting to Lilias and Jane hadsuddenly returned, and they succeeded in making the room looksurprisingly comfortable, compared with its former desolate aspect, before William came down, and renewed his inquiries after all thefamily. 'And how is my father's deafness?' was one of his questions. 'Worse, ' said Emily. 'I am afraid all the younger ones will learn tovociferate. He hears no one well but ourselves. ' 'Oh! and Alethea Weston, ' said Lily. 'Her voice is so clear anddistinct, that she hardly ever raises it to make him hear. And haveyou ever heard her sing?' 'Yes, she sings very well. I cannot think why you never told me theywere living here. ' 'Because you never honour us with your correspondence, ' said Emily;'if you had vouchsafed to write to your sisters you could not haveescaped hearing of the Westons. ' 'And has Mr. Weston given up the law?' 'No, he only came home in the vacation, ' said Emily. 'Did you knowthey had lost two daughters?' 'I saw it in the paper. Emma and Lucy were nice girls, but not equalto Miss Weston. What a shock to Mrs. Weston!' 'Yes, she quite lost her health, and the doctors said she must moveinto the country directly. Mrs. Carrington, who is some distantconnection, told them of this place, and they took it ratherhastily. ' 'Do they like it?' 'Oh yes, very much!' said Emily. 'Mrs. Weston is very fond of thegarden, and drives about in the pony-carriage, and it is quitepleasant to see how she admires the views. ' 'And, ' added Lily, 'Alethea walks with us, and sings with me, andteaches at school, and knows all the poor people. ' 'I must go and see those children to-morrow, ' said William. The evening passed very pleasantly; and perhaps, in truth, CaptainMohun and his sisters were surprised to find each other so agreeable;for, in the eyes of the young ladies, he was by far the most awfulperson in the family. When he had been last at home Harry's recent death had thrown a gloomover the whole family, and he had especially missed him. Himselfquick, sensible, clever, and active, he was intolerant of oppositequalities, and the principal effect of that visit to Beechcroft wasto make all the younger ones afraid of him, to discourage poorClaude, and to give to himself a gloomy remembrance of that homewhich had lost its principal charms in his mother and Harry. He had now come home rather from a sense of duty than an expectationof pleasure, and he was quite surprised to find how much moreattractive the New Court had become. Emily and Lilias were nowconversible and intelligent companions, better suited to him thanEleanor had ever been, and he had himself in these four yearsacquired a degree of gentleness and consideration which prevented himfrom appearing so unapproachable as in days of old. This wasespecially the case with regard to Claude, whose sensitive and rathertimid nature had in his childhood suffered much from William's boyishattempts to make him manly, and as he grew older, had almost felthimself despised; but now William appreciated his noble qualities, and was anxious to make amends for his former unkindness. Claude came home from Oxford, not actually ill, but in the ailingcondition in which he often was, just weak enough to give his sistersa fair excuse for waiting upon him, and petting him all day long. About the same time Phyllis and Adeline came back from Broomhill, andthere was great joy at the New Court at the news that Mrs. Hawkesworth was the happy mother of a little boy. Claude was much pleased by being asked by Eleanor to be godfather tohis little nephew, whose name was to be Henry. Perhaps he hoped, what Lilias was quite sure of, that Eleanor did not think himunworthy to stand in Harry's place. The choice of the other sponsors did not meet with universalapprobation. Emily thought it rather hard that Mr. Hawkesworth'ssister, Mrs. Ridley, should have been chosen before herself, and bothshe and Ada would have greatly preferred either Lord Rotherwood, Mr. Devereux, or William, to Mr. Ridley, while Phyllis had wanderings ofher own how Claude could be godfather without being present at thechristening. One evening Claude was writing his answer to Eleanor, sitting at thesofa table where a small lamp was burning. Jane, attracted by itsbright and soft radiance, came and sat down opposite to him with herwork. 'What a silence!' said Lily, after about a quarter of an hour. 'What made you start, Jane?' said William. 'Did I?' said Jane. 'My speaking, I suppose, ' said Lily, 'breaking the awful spell ofsilence. ' 'How red you look, Jane. What is the matter?' said William. 'Do I?' asked Jane, becoming still redder. 'It is holding your face down over that baby's hood, ' said Emily, 'you will sacrifice the colour of your nose to your nephew. ' Claude now asked Jane for the sealing-wax, folded up his letter, sealed it, put on a stamp, and as Jane was leaving the room atbedtime, said, 'Jenny, my dear, as you go by, just put that letter inthe post-bag. ' Jane obeyed, and left the room. Claude soon after took the letterout of the bag, went to Emily's door, listened to ascertain that Janewas not there, and then knocked and was admitted. 'I could not help coming, ' said he, 'to tell you of the trap in whichBrownie has been caught. ' 'Ah!' said Lily, 'I fancied I saw her peeping slyly at your letter. ' 'Just so, ' said Claude, 'and I hope she has experienced the truth ofan old proverb. ' 'Oh! tell us what you have said, ' cried the sisters. Claude read, 'Jane desires me to say that a hood for the baby shallbe sent in the course of a week, and she hopes that it may be worn atthe christening. I should rather say I hope it may be lost in thetransit, for assuredly the head that it covers must be infected withsomething far worse than the scarlet fever--the fever of curiosity, the last quality which I should like my godson to possess. My onlyconsolation is, that he will see the full deformity of the vice, as, poor little fellow, he becomes acquainted with "that worst ofplagues, a prying maiden aunt. " If Jane was simply curious, I shouldnot complain, but her love of investigation is not directed to whatought to be known, but rather to find out some wretched subject forpetty scandal, to blacken every action, and to add to the weight ofevery misdeed, and all for the sake of detailing her discoveries inexchange for similar information with Mrs. Appleton, or some equallysuitable confidante. ' 'Is that all?' said Lily. 'And enough, too, I hope, ' said Claude. 'It ought to cure her!' cried Emily. 'Cure her!' said Claude, 'no such thing; cures are not wrought inthis way; this is only a joke, and to keep it up, I will tell you apiece of news, which Jane must have spied out in my letter, as I hadjust written it when I saw her eyes in a suspicious direction. Itwas settled that Messieurs Maurice and Redgie are to go for two hoursa day, three times a week, to Mr. Stevens, during the holidays. ' 'The new Stoney Bridge curate?' said Emily. 'I am very glad you are not to be bored by them, ' said Lily, 'but howthey will dislike it!' 'It is very hard upon them, ' said Claude, 'and I tried to prevent it, but the Baron was quite determined. Now I will begin to talk aboutthis plan, and see whether Jenny betrays any knowledge of it. ' 'Oh! it will be rare!' cried Lily; 'but do not speak of it before theBaron or William. ' 'Let it be at luncheon, ' said Emily, 'you know they never appear. Doyou mean to send the letter?' 'Not that part of it, ' said Claude, 'you see I can tear off the lastpage, and it is only to add a new conclusion. Good-night. ' Jane had certainly not spent the evening in an agreeable manner; shehad not taken her seat at Claude's table with any evil designstowards his letter, but his writing was clear and legible, and hereye caught the word 'Maurice;' she wished to know what Claude couldbe saying about him, and having once begun, she could not leave off, especially when she saw her own name. When aware of the complimentshe was paying her, she looked at him, but his eyes were fixed on hispen, and no smile, no significant expression betrayed that he wasaware of her observations; and even when he gave her the letter toput into the post-bag he looked quite innocent and unconcerned. Onthe other hand, she did not like to think that he had been sendingsuch a character of her to Eleanor in sober sadness; it wasimpossible to find out whether he had sent the letter; she could notventure to beg him to keep it back, she could only trust to his good-nature. At luncheon, as they had agreed, Lily began by asking where her papaand William were gone? Claude answered, 'To Stoney Bridge, to callupon Mr. Stevens; they mean to ask him to dine one day next week, tobe introduced to his pupils. ' 'Is he an Oxford or Cambridge man?' asked Lily. 'Oxford, ' exclaimed Jane, quite forgetting whence she had derived herinformation, 'he is a fellow of--' 'Indeed?' said Lily; 'how do you know that?' 'Why, we have all been talking of him lately, ' said Jane. 'Not I, ' said Emily, 'why should he interest us?' 'Because he is to tutor the boys, ' said Jane. 'When did you hear that he is to tutor the boys?' asked Lily. 'When you did, I suppose, ' said Jane, blushing. 'You did, did you?' said Claude. 'I feel convinced, if so, that youmust really be what you are so often called, a changeling. I heardit, or rather read it first at Oxford, where the Baron desired me tomake inquiries about him. You were, doubtless, looking over myshoulder at the moment. This is quite a discovery. We shall have toperform a brewery of egg-shells this evening, and put the elf toflight with a red-hot poker, and what a different sister Jane weshall recover, instead of this little mischief-making sprite, soquiet, so reserved, never intruding her opinion, showing constantdeference to all her superiors--yes, and to her inferiors, shuttingher eyes to the faults of others, and when they come before her, trying to shield the offender from those who regard them as merelyexciting news. ' Claude's speech had become much more serious than he intended, and hefelt quite guilty when he had finished, so that it was not at all anundesirable interruption when Phyllis and Adeline asked for the storyof the brewery of egg-shells. Emily and Lilias kindly avoided looking at Jane, who, after fidgetingon her chair and turning very red, succeeded in regaining outwardcomposure. She resolved to let the matter die away, and think nomore about it. When Mr. Mohun and William came home, they brought the news that LadyRotherwood had invited the whole party to dinner. 'I am very glad we are allowed to see them, ' said Emily, 'I am quitetired of being shut up. ' 'If it was not for the Westons we might as well live in Nova Zembla, 'said Jane. 'I am glad you damsels should know a little more of Florence, ' saidMrs. Mohun. 'Yes, ' said Claude, 'cousins were made to be friends. ' 'In that case one ought to be able to choose them, ' said William. 'And know them, ' said Emily. 'We have not seen Florence since shewas eleven years old. ' 'Cousin or not, ' said Lilias, 'Florence can hardly be so much myfriend as Alethea. ' 'Right, Lily, ' said William, 'stand up for old friends against allthe cousins in the universe. ' 'Has Alethea a right to be called an old friend?' said Emily; 'doesthree quarters of a year make friendship venerable?' 'No one can deny that she is a tried friend, ' said Lilias. 'But pray, good people, ' said Claude, 'what called forth those vowsof eternal constancy? why was my innocent general observationconstrued into an attack upon Miss Weston?' 'Because there is something invidious in your tone, ' said Lily. 'What kind of girl is that Florence?' asked William. 'Oh! a nice, lively, pleasant girl, ' said Claude. 'I cannot make out what her pursuits are, ' said Lily; 'Rotherwoodnever talks of her reading anything. ' 'She has been governessed and crammed till she is half sick of allreading, ' said Claude, 'of all study--ay, and all accomplishments. ' 'So that is the friend you recommend, Lily!' said William. 'Well, Claude, that is what I call a great shame, ' said Emily. 'Stay, ' said Claude, 'you have heard but half my story, I say thatthis is the reaction. Florence has no lack of sense, and if youyoung ladies are wise, you may help her to find the use of it. ' Claude's further opinion did not transpire, as dinner was announced, and nothing more was said about Lady Florence till the girls had anopportunity of judging for themselves. She had a good deal of herbrother's vivacity, with gentleness and grace, which made her veryengaging, and her perfect recollection of the New Court, and ofchildish days, charmed her cousins. Lady Rotherwood was very kindand affectionate, and held out hopes of many future meetings. Thenext day Maurice and Reginald came home from school, bringing abetter character for diligence than usual, on which they foundedhopes that the holidays would be left to their own disposal. Theywere by no means pleased with the arrangement made with Mr. Stevensand most unwillingly did they undertake the expedition to StonyBridge, performing the journey in a very unsociable manner. Mauricewas no horseman, and chose to jog on foot through three miles oflane, while Reginald's pony cantered merrily along, its master's headbeing intent upon the various winter sports in which William and LordRotherwood allowed him to share. Little did Maurice care for suchdiversions; he was, as Adeline said, studying another 'apology. 'This time it was phrenology, for which the cropped heads of Liliasand Jane afforded unusual facility. There was, however, but alimited supply of heads willing to be fingered, and Maurice returnedto the most abiding of his tastes, and in an empty room at the OldCourt laboured assiduously to find the secret of perpetual motion. A few days before Christmas Rachel Harvey again took leave ofBeechcroft, with a promise that she would make them another visitwhen Eleanor came home. Before she went she gave Emily a usefulcaution, telling her it was not right to trust her keys out of herown possession. It was what Miss Mohun never would have done, shehad never once committed them even to Rachel. 'With due deference to Eleanor, ' said Emily, with her winning smile, 'we must allow that that was being over cautious. ' Rachel smiled, but her lecture was not averted by the compliment. 'It might have been very well since you have known me, Miss Emily, but I do not know what would have come of it, if I had been too muchtrusted when I was a giddy young thing like Esther; that girl comesof a bad lot, and if anything is to be made of her, it is by keepingtemptation out of her way, and not letting her be with that mother ofhers. ' Rachel had rather injured the effect of her advice by behaving toolike a mistress during her visit; Emily had more than once wishedthat all servants were not privileged people, and she was moreoffended than convinced by the remonstrance. CHAPTER XIV--CHRISTMAS 'Slee, sla, slud, Stuck in the mud, O! it is pretty to wade through a flood, Come, wheel round, The dirt we have found, Would he an estate at a farthing a pound. ' Lily's illness interrupted her teaching at the village school formany weeks, and she was in no great haste to resume it. AletheaWeston seemed to enjoy doing all that was required, and Lily left itin her hands, glad to shut her eyes as much as possible to thedisheartening state the parish had been in ever since her formerindiscretion. The approach of Christmas, however, made it necessary for her toexert herself a little more, and her interest in parish mattersrevived as she distributed the clothing-club goods, and in privateconference with each good dame, learnt the wants of her family. Butit was sad to miss several names struck out of the list for non-attendance at church; and when Mrs. Eden came for her child'sclothing, Lily remarked that the articles she chose were unlike thoseof former years, the cheapest and coarsest she could find. St. Thomas's day was marked by the custom, called at Beechcroft'gooding. ' Each mother of a family came to all the principal housesin the parish to receive sixpence, towards providing a Christmasdinner, and it was Lily's business to dispense this dole at the NewCourt. With a long list of names and a heap of silver before her, she sat at the oaken table by the open chimney in the hall, returninga nod or a smiling greeting to the thanks of the women as they came, one by one, to receive the little silver coins, and warm themselvesby the glowing wood fire. Pleasant as the task was at first, it ended painfully. Agnes Edenappeared, in order to claim the double portion allotted to hermother, as a widow. This was the first time that Mrs. Eden had askedfor the gooding-money, and Lily knew that it was a sign that she mustbe in great distress. Agnes made her a little courtesy, and creptaway again as soon as she had received her shilling; but Mrs. Grey, who was Mrs. Eden's neighbour, had not quite settled her penny-clubaffairs, and remained a little longer. An unassuming and lightly-principled person was Mrs. Grey, and Lily enjoyed a talk with her, while she was waiting for the purple stuff frock which Jane wasmeasuring off for Kezia. They spoke of the children, and of a fewother little matters, and presently something was said about Mrs. Eden; Lily asked if the blacksmith helped her. 'Oh! no, Miss Lilias, he will do nothing for her while she sends herchild to school and to church. He will not speak to her even. Not abit of butter, nor a morsel of bacon, has been in her house sinceMichaelmas, and what she would have done if it was not for Mr. Devereux and Mrs. Weston, I cannot think. ' Lilias, much shocked by this account of the distress into which sheand Jane had been the means of bringing the widow, reported it to herfather and to the Rector; entreating the former to excuse her rent, which he willingly promised to do, and also desired his daughters togive her a blanket, and tell her to come to dine house whenever anybroth was to be given away. Mr. Devereux, who already knew of hertroubles, and allowed her a small sum weekly, now told his cousinshow much the Greys had assisted her. Andrew Grey had dug up andhoused her winter's store of potatoes, he had sought work for her, and little Agnes often shared the meals of his children. The Greyshad a large family, very young, so that all that they did for her wasthe fruit of self-denial. Innumerable were the kindnesses which theyperformed unknown to any but the widow and her child. More, by ahundred times, did they assist her, than the thoughtless girls whohad occasioned her sufferings, though Lily was not the only one whofelt that nothing was too much for them to do. Nothing, perhaps, would have been too much, except to bear her in mind and steadily aidher in little things; but Lily took no account of little things, talked away her feelings, and thus all her grand resolutions producedalmost nothing. Lord Rotherwood sent Mrs. Eden a sovereign, thegirls newly clothed little Agnes, Phyllis sometimes carried her thescraps of her dinner, Mrs. Eden once came to work at the New Court, and a few messes of broth were given to her, but in general she wasforgotten, and when remembered, indolence or carelessness too oftenprevented the Miss Mohuns from helping her. In Emily's favouritephrase, each individual thing was 'not worth while. ' When Lilias did think it 'worth while, ' she would do a great dealupon impulse, sometimes with more zeal than discretion, as she provedby an expedition which she took on Christmas Eve. Mr. Mohun did notallow the poor of the village to depend entirely on the gooding fortheir Christmas dinner, but on the 24th of December a large mess ofexcellent beef broth was prepared at the New Court, and distributedto all his own labourers, and the most respectable of the othercottagers. In the course of the afternoon Lily found that one portion had notbeen given out. It was that which was intended for the Martins, apoor old rheumatic couple, who lived at South End, the most distantpart of the parish. Neither of them could walk as far as the NewCourt, and most of their neighbours had followed Farmer Gage, and hadtherefore been excluded from the distribution, so that there was noone to send. Lily, therefore, resolved herself to carry the broth tothem, if she could find an escort, which was not an easy matter, asthe frost had that morning broken up, and a good deal of snow andrain had been falling in the course of the day. In the hall she metReginald, just turned out of Maurice's workshop, and much at a lossfor employment. 'Redgie, ' said she, 'you can do me a great kindness. ' 'If it is not a bore, ' returned Reginald. 'I only want you to walk with me to South End. ' 'Eh?' said Reginald; 'I thought the little Misses were too delicateto put their dear little proboscises outside the door. ' 'That is the reason I ask you; I do not think Emily or Jane wouldlike it, and it is too far for Claude. Those poor old Martins havenot got their broth, and there is no one to fetch it for them. ' 'Then do not be half an hour putting on your things. ' 'Thank you; and do not run off, and make me spend an hour in huntingfor you, and then say that I made you wait. ' 'I will wait fast enough. You are not so bad as Emily, ' saidReginald, while Lily ran upstairs to equip herself. When she camedown, she was glad to find her escort employed in singeing the end ofthe tail of the old rocking-horse at the fire in the hall, so thatshe was not obliged to seek him in the drawing-room, where her planswould probably have met with opposition. She had, however, objections to answer from an unexpected quarter. Reginald was muchdispleased when she took possession of the pitcher of broth. 'I will not walk with such a thing as that, ' said he, 'it makes youlook like one of the dirty girls in the village. ' 'Then you ought, like the courteous Rinaldo, to carry it for me, 'said Lily. 'I touch the nasty thing! Faugh! Throw it into the gutter, Lily. ' He made an attempt to dispose of it in that manner, which it requiredall Lily's strength to withstand, as well as an imploring 'Now, Redgie, think of the poor old people. Remember, you have promised. ' 'Promised! I never promised to walk with a greasy old pitcher. Whatam I to do if we meet Miss Weston?' Lily contrived to overcome Reginald's refined notions sufficiently tomake him allow her to carry the pitcher; and when he had whistled uptwo of the dogs, they proceeded merrily along the road, dirty and wetthough it was. Their walk was not entirely without adventures;first, they had to turn back in the path by the river side, whichwould have saved them half a mile, but was now flooded. Then, asthey were passing through a long lane, which led them by EdwardGage's farm, a great dog rushed out of the yard, and fell upon thelittle terrier, Viper. Old Neptune flew to the rescue, and to thegreat alarm of Lily, Reginald ran up with a stick; happily, however, a labourer at the same time came out with a pitchfork, and beat offthe enemy. These two delays, together with Reginald's propensity forcutting sticks, and for breaking ice, made it quite late when theyarrived at South End. When there, they found that a kind neighbourhad brought the old people their broth in the morning, and intendedto go for her own when she came home from her work in the evening. It was not often that Lily went to South End; the old people weredelighted to see her, and detained her for some time by a long storyabout their daughter at service, while Reginald looked the picture ofimpatience, drumming on his knee, switching the leg of the table, andtickling Neptune's ears. When they left the cottage it was muchlater and darker than they had expected; but Lily was unwilling againto encounter the perils of the lane, and consulted her brotherwhether there was not some other way. He gave notice of a cut acrosssome fields, which would take them into the turnpike road, and Lilyagreeing, they climbed over a gate into a pathless turnip field. Reginald strode along first, calling to the dogs, while Lilyfollowed, abstaining from dwelling on the awkward circumstance thatevery step she took led her farther from home, and rejoicing that itwas so dark that she could not see the mud which plastered the edgeof her petticoats. After plodding through three very long fields, they found themselves shut in by a high hedge and tall ditch. 'That fool of a farmer!' cried Reginald. 'What is to be done?' said Lily, disconsolately. 'There is the road, ' said Reginald. 'How do you propose to get intoit?' 'There was a gap here last summer, ' said the boy. 'Very likely! Come back; try the next field; it must have a gatesomewhere. ' Back they went, after seeing the carrier's cart from Raynham pass by. 'Redgie, it must be half-past five! We shall never be in time. AuntRotherwood coming too!' After a desperate plunge through a swamp of ice, water, and mud, theyfound themselves at a gate, and safely entered the turnpike road. 'How it rains!' said Lily. 'One comfort is that it is too dark forany one to see us. ' 'Not very dark, either, ' said Reginald; 'I believe there is a moon ifone could see it. Ha! here comes some one on horseback. It is agray horse; it is William. ' 'Come to look for us, ' said Lily. 'Oh, Redgie!' 'Coming home from Raynham, ' said Reginald. 'Do not fancy yourself soimportant, Lily. William, is that you?' 'Reginald!' exclaimed William, suddenly checking his horse. 'Lily, what is all this?' 'We set out to South End, to take the broth to the old Martins, andwe found the meadows flooded, which made us late; but we shall soonbe at home, ' said Lily, in a make-the-best-of-it tone. 'Soon? You are a mile and a half from home now, and do you know howlate it is?' 'Half-past five, ' said Lily. 'Six, at least; how could you be so absurd?' William rode quicklyon; Reginald laughed, and they plodded on; at length a tall darkfigure was seen coming towards them, and Lily started, as itaddressed her, 'Now what is the meaning of all this?' 'Oh, William, have you come to meet us? Thank you; I am sorry--' 'How were you to come through the village in the dark, without someone to take care of you?' 'I am taking care of her, ' said Reginald, affronted. 'Make haste; my aunt is come. How could you make the people at homeso anxious?' William gave Lily his arm, and on finding she was both tired and wet, again scolded her, walked so fast that she was out of breath, thencomplained of her folly, and blamed Reginald. It was veryunpleasant, and yet she was very much obliged to him, and exceedinglysorry he had taken so much trouble. They came home at about seven o'clock. Jane met them in the hall, full of her own and Lady Rotherwood's wonderings; she hurried Lilyupstairs, and--skilful, quick, and ready--she helped her to dress ina very short time. As they ran down Reginald overtook them, and theyentered the drawing-room as the dinner-bell was ringing. William didnot appear for some time, and his apologies were not such as tosmooth matters for his sister. Perhaps it was for this very reason that Mr. Mohun allowed Lily toescape with no more than a jesting reproof. Lord Rotherwood wishedto make his cousin's hardihood and enterprise an example to hissister, and, in his droll exaggerating way, represented such walks asevery-day occurrences. This was just the contrary to what Emilywished her aunt to believe, and Claude was much diverted with thestruggle between her politeness to Lord Rotherwood and her desire tomaintain the credit of the family. Lady Florence, though liking Lilias, thought this walk extravagant. Emily feared Lilias had lost her aunt's good opinion, and preparedherself for some hints about a governess. It was untoward; but inthe course of the evening she was a little comforted by a proposalfrom Lady Rotherwood to take her and Lilias to a ball at Raynham, which was to take place in January; and as soon as the gentlemenappeared, they submitted the invitation to their father, while LadyRotherwood pressed William to accompany them, and he was refusing. 'What are soldiers intended for but to dance!' said Lord Rotherwood. 'I never dance, ' said William, with a grave emphasis. 'I am out of the scrape, ' said the Marquis. 'I shall be gone beforeit takes place; I reserve all my dancing for July 30th. Well, youngladies, is the Baron propitious?' 'He says he will consider of it, ' said Emily. 'Oh then, he will let you go, ' said Florence, 'people never considerwhen they mean no. ' 'No, Florence, ' said her brother, 'Uncle Mohun's "consider of it" isequivalent to Le Roi's "avisera. "' 'What is he saying?' asked Lily, turning to listen. 'Oh, that my wigis in no ball-going condition. ' 'A wreath would hide all deficiencies, ' said Florence; 'I amdetermined to have you both. ' 'I give small hopes of both, ' said Claude; 'you will only haveEmily. ' 'Why do you think so, Claude?' cried both Florence and Lilias. 'From my own observation, ' Claude answered, gravely. 'I am very angry with the Baron, ' said Lord Rotherwood; 'he is growninhospitable: he will not let me come here to-morrow--the firstChristmas these five years that I have missed paying my respects tothe New Court sirloin and turkey. It is too bad--and the Westonsdining here too. ' 'Cousin Turkey-cock, well may you be in a passion, ' muttered Claude, as if in soliloquy. Lord Rotherwood and Lilias both caught the sound, and laughed, butEmily, unwilling that Florence should see what liberties they tookwith her brother, asked quickly why he was not to come. 'I think we are much obliged to him, ' said Florence, 'it would be toobad to leave mamma and me to spend our Christmas alone, when we cameto the castle on purpose to oblige him. ' 'Ay, and he says he will not let me come here, because I ought togive the Hetherington people ocular demonstration that I go tochurch, ' said Lord Rotherwood. 'Very right, as Eleanor would say, ' observed Claude. 'Very likely; but I don't care for the Hetherington folks; they donot know how to make the holly in the church fit to be seen, and theywill not sing the good old Christmas carols. Andrew Grey is worthall the Hetherington choir put together. ' 'Possibly; but how are they to mend, if their Marquis contentshimself with despising them?' said Claude. 'That is too bad, Claude. When you heard how submissively I listenedto the Baron, and know I mean to abide by what he said, you ought tocondole with me a little, if you have not the grace to lament myabsence on your own account. Why, I thought myself as regular a partof the feast as the mince-pies, and almost as necessary. ' Here a request for some music put an end to his lamentations. Liliaswas vexed by the uncertainty about the ball, and was, besides, tootired to play with spirit. She saw that Emily was annoyed, and shefelt ready to cry before the evening was over; but still she wasproud of her exploit, and when, after the party was gone, Emily beganto represent to her the estimate that her aunt was likely to form ofher character, she replied, 'If she thinks the worse of me forcarrying the broth to those poor old people, I am sure I do not wishfor her good opinion. ' Mr. Mohun was not propitious when the question of Lily's going to theball was pressed upon him. He said that he thought her too young forgaieties, and, besides, that late hours never agreed with her, and headvised her to wait for the 30th of July. Lilias knew that it was useless to say any more. She was muchdisappointed, and at the same time provoked with herself for caringabout such a matter. Her temper was out of order on Christmas Day;and while she wondered why she could not enjoy the festival asformerly, with thoughts fitted to the day, she did not examineherself sufficiently to find out the real cause of her uncomfortablefeelings. The clear frost was only cold; the bright sunshine did not rejoiceher; the holly and the mistletoe seemed ill arranged; and none of thepleasant sights of the day could give her such blitheness as once shehad known. She was almost angry when she saw that the Westons had left off theirmourning, declaring that they did not look like themselves; and hervexation came to a height when she found that Alethea actuallyintended to go to the ball with Mrs. Carrington. The excited mannerin which she spoke of it convinced Mr. Mohun that he had acted wiselyin not allowing her to go, since the very idea seemed to turn herhead. CHAPTER XV: MINOR MISFORTUNES 'Loving she is, and tractable though wild. ' In a day or two Lady Rotherwood and her daughter called at the NewCourt. On this occasion Lilias was employed in as rational and lady-like a manner as could be desired--in practising her music in thedrawing-room; Emily was reading, and Ada threading beads. Lady Rotherwood greeted her nieces very affectionately, gave a doublecaress to Adeline, stroked her pretty curls, admired her beadwork, talked to her about her doll, and then proceeded to invite the wholefamily to a Twelfth-Day party, given for their especial benefit. Thelittle Carringtons and the Weston girls were also to be asked. Emilyand Lilias were eagerly expressing their delight when suddenly atrampling, like a charge of horse, was heard in the hall; the doorwas thrown back, and in rushed Reginald and Phyllis, shouting, 'Suchfun!--the pigs are in the garden!' At the sight of their aunt they stopped short, looking aghast, andcertainly those who beheld them partook of their consternation. Reginald was hot and gloveless; his shoes far from clean; his browncurls hanging in great disorder from his Scotch cap; his handkerchiefloose; his jacket dusty--but this was no great matter, since, asEmily said, he was 'only a boy. ' His bright open smile, the rough, yet gentleman-like courtesy of his advance to the Marchioness, hiscomical roguish glance at Emily, to see if she was very angry, and todefy her if she were, and his speedy exit, all greatly amused LadyFlorence, and made up for what there might have been of the wildschoolboy in his entrance. Poor Phyllis had neither the excuse of being a schoolboy nor thegood-humoured fearlessness that freed her brother from embarrassment, and she stood stock-still, awkward and dismayed, not daring toadvance; longing to join in the pig-chase, yet afraid to run away, her eyes stretched wide open, her hair streaming into them, herbonnet awry, her tippet powdered with seeds of hay, her gloves tornand soiled, the colour of her brown holland apron scarcelydiscernible through its various stains, her frock tucked up, herstockings covered with mud, and without shoes, which she had takenoff at the door. 'Phyllis, ' said Emily, 'what are you thinking of? What makes yousuch a figure? Come and speak to Aunt Rotherwood. ' Phyllis drew off her left-hand glove, and held out her hand, making afew sidelong steps towards her aunt, who gave her a rather reluctantkiss. Lily bent her bonnet into shape, and pulled down her frock, while Florence laughed, patted her cheek, and asked what she had beendoing. 'Helping Redgie to chop turnips, ' was the answer. Afraid of some further exposure, Emily hastily sent her away to bemade fit to be seen, and Lady Rotherwood went on caressing Ada andtalking of something else. Emily had no opportunity of explainingthat this was not Phyllis's usual condition, and she was afraid thatLady Rotherwood would never believe that it was accidental. She wasmuch annoyed, especially as the catastrophe only served to divert Mr. Mohun and Claude. Of all the family William and Adeline alone tookher view of the case. Ada lectured Phyllis on her 'naughtiness, ' andplumed herself on her aunt's evident preference, but William was notequally sympathetic. He was indeed as fastidious as Emily herself, and as much annoyed by such misadventures; but he maintained that shewas to blame for them, saying that the state of things was not suchas it should be, and that the exposure might be advantageous if itput her on her guard in future. It appeared as if poor Phyllis was to be punished for the vexationwhich she had caused, for in the course of her adventures withReginald she caught a cold, which threatened to prevent her frombeing of the party on Twelfth-Day. She had a cough, which did notgive her by any means as much inconvenience as the noise itoccasioned did to other people. Every morning and every evening sheanxiously asked her sisters whether they thought she would be allowedto go. Another of the party seemed likely to fail. On the 5th ofJanuary Claude came down to breakfast later even than usual; but hehad no occasion to make excuses, for his heavy eyes, the dark linesunder them, his pale cheeks, and the very sit of his hair, were suresigns that he had a violent headache. He soon betook himself to thesofa in the drawing-room, attended by Lily, with pillows, cushions, ether, and lavender. Late in the afternoon the pain diminished alittle, and he fell asleep, to the great joy of his sister, who satwatching him, scarcely daring to move. Suddenly a frightful scream and loud crash was heard in the roomabove them. Claude started up, and Lily, exclaiming, 'Those tiresomechildren!' hurried to the room whence the noise had come. Reginald, Phyllis, and Ada, all stood there laughing. Reginald andPhyllis had been climbing to the top of a great wardrobe, by means ofa ladder of chairs and tables. While Phyllis was descending herbrother had made some demonstration that startled her, and she fellwith all the chairs over her, but without hurting herself. 'You naughty troublesome child, ' cried Lily, in no gentle tone. 'Howoften have you been told to leave off such boyish tricks! And youchoose the very place for disturbing poor Claude, with his badheadache, making it worse than ever. ' Phyllis tried to speak, but only succeeded in giving a dismal howl. She went on screaming, sobbing, and roaring so loud that she couldnot hear Lily's attempts to quiet her. The next minute Claudeappeared, looking half distracted. Reginald ran off, and as hedashed out of the room, came full against William, who caught hold ofhim, calling out to know what was the matter. 'Only Phyllis screaming, ' said Lily. 'Oh, Claude, I am very sorry!' 'Is that all?' said Claude. 'I thought some one was half killed!' He sank into a chair, pressing his hand on his temples, and lookingvery faint. William supported him, and Lily stood by, repeating, 'Iam very sorry--it was all my fault--my scolding--' 'Hush, ' said William, 'you have done mischief enough. Go away, children. ' Phyllis had already gone, and the next moment thrust into Lily's handthe first of the medicaments which she had found in the drawing-room. The faintness soon went off, but Claude thought he had better notstruggle against the headache any longer, but go to bed, in hopes ofbeing better the next day. William went with him to his room, andLilias lingered on the stairs, very humble, and very wretched. William soon came forth again, and asked the meaning of the uproar. 'It was all my fault, ' said she; 'I was vexed at Claude's beingwaked, and that made me speak sharply to Phyllis, and set herroaring. ' 'I do not know which is the most inconsiderate of you, ' said William. 'You cannot blame me more than I deserve, ' said Lily. 'May I go topoor Claude?' 'I suppose so; but I do not see what good you are to do. Quiet isthe only thing for him. ' Lily, however, went, and Claude gave her to understand that he likedher to stay with him. She arranged his blinds and curtainscomfortably, and then sat down to watch him. William went to thedrawing-room to write a letter. Just as he had sat down he heard astrange noise, a sound of sobbing, which seemed to come from thecorner where the library steps stood. Looking behind them, he beheldPhyllis curled up, her head on her knees, crying bitterly. 'You there! Come out. What is the matter now?' 'I am so very sorry, ' sighed she. 'Well, leave off crying. ' She would willingly have obeyed, but hersobs were beyond her own control; and he went on, 'If you are sorry, there is no more to be said. I hope it will be a lesson to youanother time. You are quite old enough to have more considerationfor other people. ' 'I am very sorry, ' again said Phyllis, in a mournful note. 'Be sorry, only do not roar. You make that noise from habit, I amconvinced, and you may break yourself off it if you choose. ' Phyllis crept out of the room, and in a few minutes more the door wassoftly opened by Emily, returning from her walk. 'I thought Claude was here. Is he gone to bed? Is his head worse?' 'Yes, the children have been doing their best to distract him. Emily, I want to know why it is that those children are for ever inmischief and yelling in all parts of the house. ' 'I wish I could help it, ' said Emily, with a sigh; 'they are verytroublesome. ' 'There must be great mismanagement, ' said her brother. 'Oh, William! Why do you think so?' 'Other children do not go on in this way, and it was not so inEleanor's time. ' 'It is only Phyllis, ' said Emily. 'Phyllis or not, it ought not to be. What will that child grow up, if you let her be always running wild with the boys?' 'Consider, William, that you see us at a disadvantage; we are allunsettled by this illness, and the children have been from home. ' 'As if they learnt all these wild tricks at Broomhill! That excusewill not do, Emily. ' 'And then they are always worse in the holidays, ' pleaded Emily. 'Yes, there are reasons to be found for everything that goes wrong;but if you were wise you would look deeper. Now, Emily, I do notwish to be hard upon you, for I know you are in a very difficultposition, and very young for such a charge, but I am sure you mightmanage better. I do not think you use your energies. There is noactivity, nor regularity, nor method, about this household. Ibelieve that my father sees that this is the case, but it is not hishabit to find fault with little things. You may think that, therefore, I need not interfere, but--' 'Oh, William! I am glad--' 'But remember that comfort is made up of little things. And, Emily, when you consider how much my father has suffered, and how desolatehis home must be at the best, I think you will be inclined to exertyourself to prevent him from being anxious about the children orharassed by your negligence. ' 'Indeed, William, ' returned Emily, with many tears, 'it is my mostearnest wish to make him comfortable. Thank you for what you havesaid. Now that I am stronger, I hope to do more, and I will reallydo my best. ' At this moment Emily was sincere; but the good impulse of one instantwas not likely to endure against long cherished habits of selfishapathy. Claude did not appear again till the middle of the next day. Hisheadache was nearly gone, but he was so languid that he gave up allthoughts of Devereux Castle that evening. Lord Rotherwood, whoalways seemed to know what was going on at Beechcroft, came toinquire for him, and very unwillingly allowed that it would be betterfor him to stay at home. Lilias wished to remain with him; but thisher cousin would not permit, saying that he could not consent to losethree of the party, and Florence would be disappointed in all herplans. Neither would Claude hear of keeping her at home, and she wasobliged to satisfy herself with putting his arm-chair in hisfavourite corner by the fire, with the little table before it, supplied with books, newspaper, inkstand, paper-knife, and all thenew periodicals, and he declared that he should enjoy the height ofluxury. Phyllis considered it to be entirely her fault that he could not go, and was too much grieved on that account to have many regrets tospare for herself. She enjoyed seeing Adeline dressed, and hearingEsther's admiration of her. And having seen the party set off, shemade her way into the drawing-room, opening the door as gently aspossible, just wide enough to admit her little person, then shuttingit as if she was afraid of hurting it, she crept across the room ontiptoe. She started when Claude looked up and said, 'Why, Phyl, Ihave not seen you to-day. ' 'Good morning, ' she mumbled, advancing in her sidelong way. Claude suspected that she had been more blamed the day before thanthe occasion called for, and wishing to make amends he kissed her, and said something good-natured about spending the evening together. Phyllis, a little reassured, went to her own occupations. She tookout a large heavy volume, laid it on the window-seat, and began toread. Claude was interested in his own book, and did not look uptill the light failed him. He then, closing his book, gave a longyawn, and looked round for his little companion, almost thinking, from the stillness of the room, that she must have gone to seek foramusement in the nursery. She was, however, still kneeling against the window-seat, her elbowsplanted on the great folio, and her head between her hands, readingintently. 'Little Madam, ' said he, 'what great book have you got there?' 'As You Like It, ' said Phyllis. 'What! are you promoted to reading Shakspeare?' 'I have not read any but this, ' said Phyllis. 'Ada and I have oftenlooked at the pictures, and I liked the poor wounded stag coming downto the water so much, that I read about it, and then I went on. Wasit wrong, Claude? no one ever told me not. ' 'You are welcome to read it, ' said Claude, 'but not now--it is toodark. Come and sit in the great chair on the other side of the fire, and be sociable. And what do you think of 'As You Like It?'' 'I like it very much, ' answered Phyllis, 'only I cannot think whyJacks did not go to the poor stag, and try to cure it, when he sawits tears running into the water. ' To save the character of Jacks, Claude gravely suggested thedifficulty of catching the stag, and then asked Phyllis her opinionof the heroines. 'Oh! it was very funny about Rosalind dressing like a man, and thenbeing ready to cry like a girl when she was tired, and thenpretending to pretend to be herself; and Celia, it was very kind ofher to go away with Rosalind; but I should have liked her better ifshe had stayed at home, and persuaded her father to let Rosalind staytoo. I am sure she would if she had been like Ada. Then it is sonice about Old Adam and Orlando. Do not you think so, Claude? It isjust what I am sure Wat Greenwood would do for Redgie, if he was tobe turned out like Orlando. ' 'It is just what Wat Greenwood's ancestor did for Sir Maurice Mohun, 'said Claude. 'Yes, Dame Greenwood tells us that story. ' 'Well, Phyl, I think you show very good taste in liking the scenebetween Orlando and Adam. ' 'I am glad you like it, too, Claude. But I will tell you what I likebest, ' exclaimed the little girl, springing up, 'I do like it, whenOrlando killed the lioness and the snake, --and saved Oliver; how gladhe must have been. ' 'Glad to have done good to his enemy, ' said Claude; 'yes, indeed. ' 'His enemy! he was his brother, you know. I meant it must be so verynice to save anybody--don't you think so, Claude?' 'Certainly. ' 'Claude, do you know there is nothing I wish so much as to savesomebody's life. It was very nice to save the dragon-fly; and it isvery nice to let flies out of spiders' webs, only they always havetheir legs and wings torn, and look miserable; and it was very niceto put the poor little thrushes back into their nest when theytumbled out, and then to see their mother come to feed them; and itwas very pleasant to help the poor goose that had put its headthrough the pales, and could not get it back. Mrs. Harrington saidit would have been strangled if I had not helped it. That was verynice, but how delightful it would be to save some real human person'slife. ' Claude did not laugh at the odd medley in her speech, but answered, 'Well, those little things train you in readiness and kindness. ' 'Will they?' said Phyllis, pressing on to express what had long beenher earnest wish. 'If I could but save some one, I should not mindbeing killed myself--I think not--I hope it is not naughty to say so. I believe there is something in the Bible about it, about laying downone's life for one's friend. ' 'There is, Phyl, and I quite agree with you; it must be a greatblessing to have saved some one. ' 'And little girls have sometimes done it, Claude. I know a story ofone who saved her little brother from drowning, and another waked thepeople when the house was on fire. And when I was at Broomhill, Marianne showed me a story of a young lady who helped to save thePrince, that Prince Charlie that Miss Weston sings about. I wish thePrince of Wales would get into some misfortune--I should like to savehim. ' 'I do not quite echo that loyal wish, ' said Claude. 'Well, but, Claude, Redgie wishes for a rebellion, like SirMaurice's, for he says all the boys at his school would be oneregiment, in green velvet coats, and white feathers in their hats. ' 'Indeed! and Redgie to be Field Marshal?' 'No, he is to be Sir Reginald Mohun, a Knight of the Garter, and toask the Queen to give William back the title of Baron of Beechcroft, and make papa a Duke. ' 'Well done! he is to take good care of the interests of the family. ' 'But it is not that that I should care about, ' said Phyllis. 'Ishould like it better for the feeling in one's own self; I think allthat fuss would rather spoil it--don't you, Claude?' 'Indeed, I do; but Phyllis, if you only wish for that feeling, youneed not look for dangers or rebellions to gain it. ' 'Oh! you mean the feeling that very good people indeed have--peoplelike Harry--but that I shall never be. ' 'I hope you mean to try, though. ' 'I do try; I wish I was as good as Ada, but I am so naughty and sonoisy that I do not know what to do. Every day when I say my prayersI think about being quiet, and not idling at my lessons, andsometimes I do stop in time, and behave better, but sometimes Iforget, and I do not mind what I am about, and my voice gets loud, and I let the things tumble down and make a noise, and so it wasyesterday. ' Here she looked much disposed to cry. 'No, no, we will not have any crying this evening, ' said Claude. 'Ido not think you did me much mischief, my head ached just as muchbefore. ' 'That was a thing I wanted to ask you about: William says my cryingloud is all habit, and that I must cure myself of it. How does hemean? Ought I to cry every day to practise doing it withoutroaring?' 'Do you like to begin, ' said Claude, laughing; 'shall I beat you orpinch you?' 'Oh! it would make your head bad again, ' said Phyllis; 'but I wishyou would tell me what he means. When I cry I only think about whatmakes me unhappy. ' 'Try never to cry, ' said Claude; 'I assure you it is not pleasant tohear you, even when I have no headache. If you wish to do anythingright, you must learn self-control, and it will be a good beginningto check yourself when you are going to cry. Do not look melancholynow. Here comes the tea. Let me see how you will perform as tea-maker. ' 'I wish the evening would not go away so fast!' 'And what are we to do after tea? You are queen of the evening. ' 'If you would but tell me a story, Claude. ' They lingered long over the tea-table, talking and laughing, and whenthey had finished, Phyllis discovered with surprise that it wasnearly bedtime. The promised story was not omitted, however, andPhyllis, sitting on a little footstool at her brother's feet, lookedup eagerly for it. 'Well, Phyl, I will tell you a true history that I heard from anofficer who had served in the Peninsular War--the war in Spain, youknow. ' 'Yes, with the French, who killed their king. Lily told me. ' 'And the Portuguese were helping us. Just after we had taken thetown of Ciudad Rodrigo, some of the Portuguese soldiers went to findlodgings for themselves, and, entering a magazine of gunpowder, madea fire on the floor to dress their food. A most dangerous thing--doyou know why?' 'The book would be burnt, ' said Phyllis. 'What book, you wise child?' 'The Magazine; I thought a magazine was one of the paper books thatMaurice is always reading. ' 'Oh!' said Claude, laughing, 'a magazine is a store, and as manydifferent things are stored in those books, they are calledmagazines. A powder magazine is a store of barrels of gunpowder. Now do you see why it was dangerous to light a fire?' 'It blows up, ' said Phyllis; 'that was the reason why Robinson Crusoewas afraid of the lightning. ' 'Right, Phyl, and therefore a candle is never allowed to be carriedinto a powder magazine, and even nailed shoes are never worn there, lest they should strike fire. One spark, lighting on a grain ofgunpowder, scattered on the floor, might communicate with the rest, make it all explode, and spread destruction everywhere. Think inwhat fearful peril these reckless men had placed, not onlythemselves, but the whole town, and the army. An English officerchanced to discover them, and what do you think he did?' 'Told all the people to run away. ' 'How could he have told every one, soldiers, inhabitants, and all?where could they have gone? No, he raised no alarm, but he orderedthe Portuguese out of the building, and with the help of an Englishsergeant, he carried out, piece by piece, all the wood which they hadset on fire. Now, imagine what that must have been. An explosionmight happen at any moment, yet they had to walk steadily, slowly, and with the utmost caution, in and out of this place several times, lest one spark might fly back. ' 'Then they were saved?' cried Phyllis, breathlessly; 'and what becameof them afterwards?' 'They were both killed in battle, the officer, I believe, in Badajoz, and the sergeant sometime afterwards. ' Phyllis gave a deep sigh, and sat silent for some minutes. Next, Claude began a droll Irish fairy-tale, which he told with spirit andhumour, such as some people would have scorned to exert for theamusement of a mere child. Phyllis laughed, and was so happy, thatwhen suddenly they heard the sound of wheels, she started up, wondering what brought the others home so soon, and was still moresurprised when Claude told her it was past ten. 'Oh dear! what will papa and Emily say to me for being up still? ButI will stay now, it would not be fair to pretend to be gone to bed. ' 'Well said, honest Phyl; now for the news from the castle. ' 'Why, Claude, ' said his eldest brother, entering, 'you are aliveagain. ' 'I doubt whether your evening could have been pleasanter than ours, 'said Claude. 'Phyl, ' cried Ada, 'do you know, Mary Carrington's governess thoughtI was Florence's sister. ' 'You look so bright, Claude, ' said Jane, 'I think you must have takenCinderella's friend with the pumpkin to enliven you. ' 'My fairy was certainly sister to a Brownie, ' said Claude, strokingPhyllis's hair. 'Claude, ' again began Ada, 'Miss Car--' 'I wish Cinderella's fairy may be forthcoming the day of the ball, 'said Lily, disconsolately. 'And William is going after all, ' said Emily. 'Indeed! has the great Captain relented?' 'Yes. Is it not good of him? Aunt Rotherwood is so much pleasedthat he consents to go entirely to oblige her. ' 'Sensible of his condescension, ' said Claude. 'By the bye, whatmakes the Baron look so mischievous?' 'Mischievous!' said Emily, looking round with a start, 'he is lookingvery comical, and so he has been all the evening. ' 'What? You thought mischievous was meant in Hannah's sense, when shecomplains of Master Reginald being very mischie-vi-ous. ' Ada now succeeded in saying, 'The Carringtons' governess called meLady Ada. ' 'How could she bring herself to utter so horrid a sound?' saidClaude. 'Ada is more cock-a-hoop than ever now, ' said Reginald; 'she does notthink Miss Weston good enough to speak to. ' 'But, Claude, she really did, she thought I was Florence's sister, and she said I was just like her. ' 'I wish you would hold your tongue, or go to bed, ' said William, 'Ihave heard nothing but this nonsense all the way home. ' While William was sending off Ada to bed, and Phyllis was departingwith her, Lily told Claude that the Captain had been most agreeable. 'I feared, ' said she, 'that he would be too grand for this party, buthe was particularly entertaining; Rotherwood was quite eclipsed. ' 'Rotherwood wants Claude to set him off, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'Now, young ladies, reserve the rest of your adventures for the morning. ' Adeline had full satisfaction in recounting the governess's mistaketo the maids, and in hearing from Esther that it was no wonder, 'forthat she looked more like a born lady than Lady Florence herself!' Lilias's fit of petulance about the ball had returned more stronglythan ever; she partly excused herself to her own mind, by fancyingshe disliked the thought of the lonely evening she was to spend morethan that of losing the pleasure of the ball. Mr. Mohun would beabsent, conducting Maurice to a new school, and Claude and Reginaldwould also be gone. Her temper was affected in various ways; she wondered that Williamand Emily could like to go--she had thought that Miss Weston waswiser. Her daily occupations were irksome--she was cross to Phyllis. It made her very angry to be accused by the young brothers of makinga fuss, and Claude's silence was equally offensive. It was uponprinciple that he said nothing. He knew it was nothing but atransient attack of silliness, of which she was herself ashamed; buthe was sorry to leave her in that condition, and feared LadyRotherwood's coming into the neighbourhood was doing her harm, ascertainly as it was spoiling Ada. The ball day arrived, and it wasmarked by a great burst of fretfulness on the part of poor Lilias, occasioned by so small a matter as the being asked by Emily to writea letter to Eleanor. Emily was dressing to go to dine at DevereuxCastle when she made the request. 'What have I to say? I never could write a letter in my life, atleast not to the Duenna--there is no news. ' 'About the boys going to school, ' Emily suggested. 'As if she did not know all about them as well as I can tell her. She does not care for my news, I see no one to hear gossip from. Ithought you undertook all the formal correspondence, Emily?' 'Do you call a letter to your sister formal correspondence!' 'Everything is formal with her. All I can say is, that you andWilliam are going to the ball, and she will say that is very silly. ' 'Eleanor once went to this Raynham ball; it was her first and last, 'said Emily. 'Yes, not long before they went to Italy; it will only make hermelancholy to speak of it--I declare I cannot write. ' 'And I have no time, ' said Emily, 'and you know how vexed she is ifshe does not get her letter every Saturday. ' 'All for the sake of punctuality, nothing else, ' said Lily. 'Irather like to disappoint fidgety people--don't you, Emily?' 'Well, ' said Emily, 'only papa does not like that she should bedisappointed. ' 'You might have written, if you had not dawdled away all themorning. ' This was true, and it therefore stung Emily, who complained that Lilywas very unkind. Lily defended herself sharply, and the dispute wasgrowing vehement, when William happily cut it short by a summons toEmily to make haste. When they were gone Lily had time for reflection. Good-temper was socommon a virtue, and generally cost her so little effort, that shetook no pains to cultivate it, but she now felt she had lost allclaim to be considered amiable under disappointment. It was too lateto bear the privation with a good grace. She was heartily ashamed ofhaving been so cross about a trifle, and ashamed of beingdiscontented at Emily's having a pleasure in which she could notshare. Would this have been the case a year ago? She was afraid toask herself the question, and without going deep enough into thehistory of her own mind to make her sorrow and shame profitable, shetried to satisfy herself with a superficial compensation, by makingherself particularly agreeable to her three younger sisters, and bywriting a very long and entertaining letter to Eleanor. She met Emily with a cheerful face the next day, and listened withpleasure to her history of the ball; and when Mr. Mohun returned homehe saw that the cloud had passed away. But, alas! Lilias neglectedto take the only means of preventing its recurrence. The next week William departed. Before he went he gave his sistersgreat pleasure by desiring them to write to him, and not to let himfall into his ancient state of ignorance respecting the affairs ofBeechcroft. 'Mind, ' was his farewell speech, 'I expect you to keep me au courantdu jour. I will not be in the dark about your best friends andneighbours when I come home next July. ' CHAPTER XVI--VANITY AND VEXATION 'And still I have to tell the same sad taleOf wasted energies, and idle dreams. ' Devereux Castle now became the great resort of the Miss Mohuns. Theywere always sure of a welcome there. Lady Rotherwood liked topatronise them, and Florence was glad of their society. This was quite according to the wishes of Emily, who now had nothingleft to desire, but that the style of dress suitable, in her opinion, to the granddaughter of the Marquis of Rotherwood, was more inaccordance with the purse of the daughter of the Esquire ofBeechcroft. It was no part of Emily's character to care for dress. She was at once too indolent and too sensible; she saw the vulgarityof finery, and only aimed at simplicity and elegance. During theirgirlhood Emily and Lilias had had no more concern with their clothesthan with their food; Eleanor had carefully taught them plainneedlework, and they had assisted in making more than one set ofshirts; but they had nothing to do with the choice or fashion oftheir own apparel. They were always dressed alike, and in as plainand childish a manner as they could be, consistently with theirstation. On Eleanor's marriage a suitable allowance was given toeach of them, in order that they might provide their own clothes, anduntil Rachel left them they easily kept themselves in very good trim. When Esther came Lily cheerfully took the trouble of her own smalldecorations, considering it as her payment for the pleasure of havingEsther in the house. Emily, however, neglected the useful 'stitch intime, ' till even 'nine' were unavailing. She soon found herselfcompelled to buy new ready-made articles, and expected Lilias to dothe same. But Lilias demurred, for she was too wise to think itnecessary to ruin herself in company with Emily, and thus the twosisters were no longer dressed alike. A constant fear tormentedEmily lest she should disgrace Lady Rotherwood, or be considered bysome stranger as merely a poor relation of the great people, and notas the daughter of the gentleman of the oldest family in the county. She was, therefore, anxious to be perfectly fashionable, and not towear the same things too often, and in her disinterested desire tomaintain the dignity of the family the allowance which she receivedat Christmas melted away in her hands. Lily, though exempt from this folly, was not in a satisfactory stateof mind. She was drawn off from her duties by a kind of spell. Itwas not that she liked Florence's society better than her homepursuits. Florence was indeed a very sweet-tempered and engaging creature; buther mind was not equal to that of Lilias, and there was none of thepleasure of relying upon her, and looking up to her, which Lilias hadlearnt to enjoy in the company of her brother Claude, and of AletheaWeston. It was only that Lily's own mind had been turned away fromher former occupations, and that she did not like to resume them. She had often promised herself to return to her really usefulstudies, and her positive duties, as soon as her brothers were gone;but day after day passed and nothing was done, though her visits tothe cottages and her lessons to Phyllis were often neglected. Hercalls at Devereux Castle took up many afternoons. Florencecontinually lent her amusing books, her aunt took great interest inher music, and she spent much time in practising. The mornings werecold and dark, and she could not rise early, and thus her timeslipped away, she knew not how, uselessly and unsatisfactorily. Thethree younger ones were left more to themselves, and to the maids. Jane sought for amusement in village gossip, and the little ones, finding the nursery more agreeable than the deserted drawing-room, made Esther their companion. Mr. Mohun had, at this time, an unusual quantity of business on hishands; he saw that the girls were not going on well, but he hadreasons for not interfering at present, and he looked forward toEleanor's visit as the conclusion of their trial. 'I cannot think, ' said Marianne Weston one day to her sister, 'whyMr. Mohun comes here so often. ' Alethea told her he had some business with their mamma, and shethought no more of the matter, till she was one day questioned byJane. She was rather afraid of Jane, who, as she thought, dislikedher, and wished to turn her into ridicule; so it was with nosatisfaction that she found herself separated from the others in thecourse of a walk, and submitted to a cross-examination. Jane asked, in a mysterious manner, who had been at Broomhill thatmorning. 'Mr. Mohun, ' said Marianne. 'What did he go there for?' said Jane. 'Alethea says he has some business with mamma. ' 'Then you did not hear what it was?' 'I was not in the room. ' 'Are you never there when he comes?' 'Sometimes. ' 'And is Alethea there?' 'Oh yes!' 'His business must be with her too. Cannot you guess it?' 'No, ' said Marianne, looking amazed. 'How can you be so slow?' 'I am not sure that I would guess if I could, ' said Marianne, 'for Ido not think they wish me to know. ' 'Oh! nonsense, it is fine fun to find out secrets, ' said Jane. 'Youwill know it at last, you may be sure, so there can be no harm inmaking it out beforehand, so as to have the pleasure of triumph whenthe wise people vouchsafe to admit you into their confidence; I amsure I know it all. ' 'Then please do not tell me, Jane, I ought not to hear it. ' 'Little Mrs. Propriety, ' said Jane, 'you are already assuming all thedignity of my Aunt Marianne, and William's Aunt Marianne--oh! and oflittle Henry's Great-aunt Marianne. Now, ' she added, laughing, 'canyou guess the secret?' Marianne stood still in amazement for a moment, and then exclaimed, 'Jane, Jane! you do not mean it, you are only trying to tease me. ' 'I am quite serious, ' said Jane. 'You will see that I am right. ' Here they were interrupted, and as soon as she returned from her walkMarianne, perplexed and amazed, went to her mother, and told her allthat Jane had said. 'How can she be so silly?' said Mrs. Weston. 'Then it is all nonsense, as I thought, ' said Marianne, joyfully. 'Ishould not like Alethea to marry an old man. ' 'Mr. Mohun is very unlikely to make himself ridiculous, ' said Mrs. Weston. 'Do not say anything of it to Alethea; it would only makeher uncomfortable. ' 'If it had been Captain Mohun, now --' Marianne stopped, and blushed, finding her speech unanswered. A few days after, Mr. Mohun overtook Marianne and her mother, as hewas riding home from Raynham, and dismounting, led his horse, andwalked on with them. Either not perceiving Marianne, or not caringwhether she heard him, he said, 'Has Miss Weston received the letter she expected?' 'No, ' said Mrs. Weston, 'she thinks, as there is no answer, thefamily must be gone abroad, and very probably they have taken MissAylmer with them; but she has written to another friend to ask aboutthem. ' 'From all I hear, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'I should prefer waiting to hearfrom her, before we make further inquiries; we shall not be readybefore midsummer, as I should wish my eldest daughter to assist me inmaking this important decision. ' 'In that case, ' said Mrs. Weston, 'there will be plenty of time tocommunicate with her. I can see some of the friends of the familywhen I go to London, for we must not leave Mr. Weston in solitudeanother spring. ' 'Perhaps I shall see you there, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'I have somebusiness in London, and I think I shall meet the Hawkesworths therein May or June. ' After a little more conversation Mr. Mohun took his leave, and assoon as he had ridden on, Marianne said, 'Oh! mamma, I could not helphearing. ' 'My dear, ' said Mrs. Weston, 'I know you may be trusted; but I shouldnot have told you, as you may find such a secret embarrassing whenyou are with your young friends. ' 'And so they are to have a governess?' 'Yes; and we are trying to find Miss Aylmer for them. ' 'Miss Aylmer! I am glad of it; how much Phyllis and Ada will likeher!' 'Yes, it will be very good for them; I wish I knew the Grants'direction. ' 'Well, I hope Jane will not question me any more; it will be verydifficult to manage, now I know the truth. ' But poor Marianne was not to escape. Jane was on the watch to findher alone, and as soon as an opportunity offered, she began:- 'Well, auntie, any discoveries?' 'Indeed, Jane, it is not right to fancy Mr. Mohun can do anything soabsurd. ' 'That is as people may think, ' said Jane. 'I wish you would not talk in that way, ' said Marianne. 'Now, Marianne, ' pursued the tormentor, 'if you can explain themystery I will believe you, otherwise I know what to think. ' 'I am certain you are wrong, Jane; but I can tell you no more. ' 'Very well, my good aunt, I am satisfied. ' Jane really almost persuaded herself that she was right, as sheperceived that her father was always promoting intercourse with theWestons, and took pleasure in conversing with Alethea. She twistedeverything into a confirmation of her idea; while the prospect ofhaving Miss Weston for a stepmother increased her former dislike; butshe kept her suspicions to herself for the present, triumphing in theidea that, when the time came, she could bring Marianne as a witnessof her penetration. The intercourse between the elder Miss Mohuns and Miss Weston was, however, not so frequent as formerly; and Alethea herself could notbut remark that, while Mr. Mohun seemed to desire to become moreintimate, his daughters were more backward in making appointmentswith her. This was chiefly remarkable in Emily and Jane. Lilias wasthe same in openness, earnestness, and affection; but there waseither a languor about her spirits or they were too much excited, andher talk was more of novels, and less of poor children than formerly. The constant visits to Devereux Castle prevented Emily and Liliasfrom being as often as before at church, and thus they lost manywalks and talks that they used to enjoy in the way home. Mariannebegan to grow indignant, especially on one occasion, when Emily andLily went out for a drive with Lady Rotherwood, forgetting that theyhad engaged to take a walk with the Westons that afternoon. 'It is really a great deal too bad, ' said she to Alethea; 'it isexactly what we have read of in books about grandeur making peoplecast off their old friends. ' 'Do not be unfair, Marianne, ' said Alethea. 'Lady Florence has abetter right to--' 'Better right!' exclaimed Marianne. 'What, because she is amarquis's daughter?' 'Because she is their cousin. ' 'I do not believe Lilias really cares for her half as much as foryou, ' said Marianne. 'It is all because they are fine people. ' 'Nay, Marianne, if our cousins were to come into this neighbourhood, we should not be as dependent on the Mohuns as we now feel. ' 'I hope we should not break our engagements with them. ' 'Perhaps they could not help it. When their aunt came to fetch them, knowing how seldom they can have the carriage, it would have beenscarcely civil to say that they had rather take a walk with peoplethey can see any day. ' 'Last year Lilias would have let Emily go by herself, ' said Marianne. 'Alethea, they are all different since that Lady Rotherwood came--allexcept Phyl. Ada is a great deal more conceited than she was whenshe was staying here; she pulls out her curls, and looks in the glassmuch more, and she is always talking about some one having taken herfor Lady Florence's sister. And, Alethea, just fancy, she does notlike me to go through a gate before her, because she says she hasprecedence!' Alethea was much amused, but she would not let Marianne condemn thewhole family for Ada's folly. 'It will all come right, ' said she, 'let us be patient and good-humoured, and nothing can be reallywrong. ' Though Alethea made the best of it to her sister, she could not butfeel hurt, and would have been much more so if her temper had beenjealous or sentimental. Almost in spite of herself she had bestowedupon Lilias no small share of her affection, and she would have beenmore pained by her neglect if she had not partaken of that spiritwhich 'thinketh no evil, but beareth all things, believeth allthings, hopeth all things, and endureth all things. ' Lilias was not satisfied with either herself, her home, her sisters, or her school; she was far from being the fresh, happy creature thatshe had been the year before. She had seen the fallacy of herprinciple of love, but in her self-willed adherence to it she hadlost the strong sense and habit of duty which had once ruled her; andin a vague and restless frame of mind, she merely sought from day today for pleasure and idle occupation. Lent came, but she was notroused, she was only more uncomfortable when she saw the Rector, orAlethea, or went to church. Alethea's unfailing gentleness she feltalmost as a rebuke; and Mr. Devereux, though always kind and good-natured, had ceased to speak to her of those small village matters inwhich she used to be prime counsellor. The school became a burthen instead of a delight, and her attendancethere a fatigue. On going in one Sunday morning, very late, shefound Alethea teaching her class as well as her own. With a look ofvexation she inquired, as she took her place, if it was so very late, and on the way to church she said again, 'I thought I was quite intime; I do not like to hurry the children--the distant ones have nottime to come. It was only half-past nine. ' 'Oh, Lilias, ' said Marianne, 'it was twenty minutes to ten, I know, for I had just looked at the clock. ' 'That clock is always too fast, ' said Lily. The next Sunday was very cold, and Lilias did not feel at alldisposed to leave the fire when the others prepared to go to theafternoon school. 'Is it time?' said she. 'I was chilled at church, and my feet arestill like ice; I will follow you in five minutes. ' Alethea went, and Lilias lingered by the fire. Mrs. Weston onceasked her if she knew how late it was; but still she waited, untilshe was startled by the sound of the bell for evening service. Asshe went to church with Mrs. Weston and Emily she met Jane, who toldher that her class had been unemployed all the afternoon. 'I would have taken them, ' said she, 'but that Robert does not likeme to teach the great girls, and I do think Alethea might have heardthem. ' 'It is very provoking, ' said Lily, pettishly; 'I thought I mightdepend--' She turned and saw Miss Weston close to her. 'Oh, Alethea!' said she, 'I thought you would have heard those girls. ' 'I thought you were coming, ' said Alethea. 'So I was, but I am sure the bell rang too early. I do wish you hadtaken them, Alethea. ' 'I am sorry you are vexed, ' said Alethea, simply. 'What makes you think I am vexed? I only thought you liked hearingmy class. ' They were by this time at the church door, and as they enteredAlethea blamed herself for feeling grieved, and Lily awoke to a senseof her unreasonableness. She longed to tell Alethea how sorry shefelt, but she had no opportunity, and she resolved to go to Broomhillthe next day to make her confession. In the night, however, snowbegan to fall, and the morning showed the February scene of thawingsnow and pouring rain. Going out was impossible, both on that dayand the next. Wednesday dawned fair and bright; but just afterbreakfast Lily received a little note, with the intelligence that Mr. Weston had arrived at Broomhill on Monday evening, and with his wifeand daughters was to set off that very day to make a visit to somefriends on the way to London. Had not the weather been so bad, Alethea said she should have come to take leave of her New Courtfriends on Tuesday, but she could now only send this note to tellthem how sorry she was to go without seeing them, and to beg Emily tosend back a piece of music which she had lent to her. The messengerwas Faith Longley, who was to accompany them, and who now was goinghome to take leave of her mother, and would call again for the musicin a quarter of an hour. Lily ran to ask her when they were to go. 'At eleven, ' was the answer; and Lily telling her she need not callagain, as she herself would bring the music, went to look for it. High and low did she seek, and so did Jane, but it was not to befound in any nook, likely or unlikely; and when at last Lily, indespair, gave up the attempt to find it, it was already a quarter toeleven. Emily sent many apologies and civil messages, and Lily setout at a rapid pace to walk to Broomhill by the road, for the thawhad rendered the fields impassable. Fast as she walked, she was toolate. She had the mortification of seeing the carriage turn out atthe gates, and take the Raynham road; she was not even seen, nor hadshe a wave of the hand, or a smile to comfort her. Almost crying with vexation, she walked home, and sat down to writeto Alethea, but, alas! she did not know where to direct a letter. Bitterly did she repent of the burst of ill-temper which had stainedher last meeting with her friend, and she was scarcely comforted evenby the long and affectionate letter which she received a week aftertheir departure. Kindness from her was now forgiveness; never didshe so strongly feel Florence's inferiority; and she wondered atherself for having sought her society so much as to neglect herpatient and superior friend. She became careless and indifferent toFlorence, and yet she went on in her former course, following Emily, and fancying that nothing at Beechcroft could interest her in theabsence of her dear Alethea Weston. CHAPTER XVII: LITTLE AGNES 'O guide us when our faithless hearts From Thee would start aloof, Where patience her sweet skill imparts, Beneath some cottage roof. ' Palm Sunday brought Lily many regrets. It was the day of the schoolprize giving, and she reflected with shame, how much less she knewabout the children than last year, and how little they owed to her;she feared to think of the approach of Easter Day, a dread which shehad never felt before, and which she knew to be a very bad sign; buther regret was not repentance--she talked, and laughed, and tried tofeel at ease. Agnes Eden's happy face was the most pleasant sight onthat day. The little girl received a Bible, and as it was given toher her pale face was coloured with bright pink, her blue eyeslighted up, her smile was radiant with the beauty of innocence, butLily could not look at her without self-reproach. She resolved tomake up for her former neglect by double kindness, and determinedthat, at any rate, Passion Week should be properly spent--she wouldnot once miss going to church. But on Monday, when Emily proposed to ride to Devereux Castle, sheassented, only saying that they would return for evening service. She took care to remind her sister when it was time to set outhomewards; but Emily was, as usual, so long in taking her leave thatit was too late to think of going to church when they set off. About two miles from Beechcroft Lily saw a little figure in a graycloak trudging steadily along the road, and as she came nearer sherecognised Kezia Grey. She stopped and asked the child what broughther so far from home. 'I am going for the doctor, Miss, ' said the child. 'Is your mother worse?' asked Lily. 'Mother is pretty well, ' said Kezia; 'but it is for Agnes Eden, Miss--she is terrible bad. ' 'Poor little Agnes!' exclaimed Lily. 'Why, she was at schoolyesterday. ' 'Yes, Miss, but she was taken bad last night. ' After a moment's consultation between the sisters, Kezia was toldthat she might return home, and the servant who accompanied the MissMohuns was sent to Raynham for the doctor. The next afternoon Lilywas just setting out to inquire for Agnes when Lord Rotherwoodarrived at the New Court with his sister. He wanted to show Florencesome of his favourite haunts at Beechcroft, and had brought her tojoin his cousins in their walk. A very pleasant expedition theymade, but it led them so far from home that the church bell was heardpealing over the woods far in the distance. Lily could not go toMrs. Eden's cottage, because she did not know the nature of Agnes'scomplaint, and her aunt could not bear that Florence should go intoany house where there was illness. In the course of the walk, however, she met Kezia, on her way to the New Court, to ask for ablister for Agnes, the doctor having advised Mrs. Eden to apply tothe Miss Mohuns for one, as it was wanted quickly, and it was too farto send to Raynham. Lily promised to send the blister as soon aspossible, and desired the little messenger to return home, where shewas much wanted, to help her mother, who had a baby of less than aweek old. Alas! in the mirth and amusement of the evening Lily entirely forgotthe blister, until just as she went to bed, when she made one of herfeeble resolutions to take it, or send it early in the morning. Sheonly awoke just in time to be ready for breakfast, went downstairswithout one thought of the sick child, and never recollected her, until at church, just before the Litany, she heard these words: 'Theprayers of the congregation are desired for Agnes Eden. ' She felt as if she had been shot, and scarcely knew where she was forseveral moments. On coming out of church, she stood almost in adream, while Emily and Jane were talking to the Rector, who told themhow very ill the child was, and how little hope there was of herrecovery. He took leave of them, and Lily walked home, scarcelyhearing the soothing words with which Emily strove to comfort her. The meaning passed away mournfully; Lily sat over the fire withoutspeaking, and without attempting to do anything. In the afternoonrain came on; but Lily, too unhappy not to be restless, put on herbonnet and cloak, and went out. She walked quickly up the hill, and entered the field where thecottage stood. There she paused. She did not dare to knock at thecottage door; she could not bear to speak to Mrs. Eden; she dreadedthe sight of Mrs. Grey or Kezia, and she gazed wistfully at thehouse, longing, yet fearing, to know what was passing within it. Shewandered up and down the field, and at last was trying to make up hermind to return home, when she heard footsteps behind her, andturning, saw Mr. Devereux advancing along the path at the other endof the field. 'Have you been to inquire for Agnes?' said he. 'I could not. I long to know, but I cannot bear to ask, I cannotventure in. ' 'Do you like to go in with me?' said her cousin. 'I do not think youwill see anything dreadful. ' 'Thank you, ' said Lily, 'I would give anything to know about her. ' 'How you tremble! but you need not be afraid. ' He knocked at the door, but there was no answer; he opened it, andgoing to the foot of the stairs, gently called Mrs. Eden, who camedown calm and quiet as ever, though very pale. 'How is she?' 'No better, sir, thank you, light-headed still. ' 'Oh! Mrs. Eden, I am so sorry, ' sobbed Lily. 'Oh! can you forgiveme?' 'Pray do not take on so, Miss, ' said Mrs. Eden. 'You have alwaysbeen a very kind friend to her, Miss Lilias. Do not take on so, Miss. If it is His will, nothing could have made any difference. ' Lily was going to speak again, but Mr. Devereux stopped her, saying, 'We must not keep Mrs. Eden from her, Lily. ' 'Thank you, sir, her aunt is with her, ' said Mrs. Eden, 'and no oneis any good there now, she does not know any one. Will you walk upand see her, sir? will you walk up, Miss Lilias?' Lily silently followed her cousin up the narrow stairs to the upperroom, where, in the white-curtained bed, lay the little child, tossing about and moaning, her cheeks flushed with fever, and herblue eyes wide open, but unconscious. A woman, whom Lily did not atfirst perceive to be Mrs. Naylor, rose and courtsied on theirentrance. Agnes's new Bible was beside her, and her mother told themthat she was not easy if it was out of sight for an instant. At this moment Agnes called out, 'Mother, ' and Mrs. Eden bent down toher, but she only repeated, 'Mother' two or three times, and thenbegan talking: 'Kissy, I want my bag--where is my thimble--no, not that I can'tremember--my catechism-book--my godfathers and godmothers in mybaptism, wherein I was made a member--my Christian name--my name, itis my Christian name; no, that is not it - "It is a name by which I am Writ in the hook of life, And here below a charm to keep, Unharmed by sin and strife;As often as my name I hear, I hear my Saviour's voice. "' Then she began the Creed, but, breaking off, exclaimed, 'Where is myBible, mother, I shall read it to-morrow--read that pretty verseabout "I am the good Shepherd--the Lord is my Shepherd, therefore canI lack nothing--yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadowof death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art within me. " "I now am of that little flock Which Christ doth call His own, For all His sheep He knows by name, And He of them is known. "' 'Let us call upon your good Shepherd, Agnes, ' said the pastor, andthe child turned her face towards him as if she understood him. Kneeling down, he repeated the Lord's Prayer, and the feeble voicefollowed his. He then read the prayer for a sick child, and left theroom, for he saw that Lily would be quite overcome if she remainedthere any longer. Mrs. Eden followed them downstairs, and againstung poor Lily to the heart by thanks for all her kindness. They then left the house of mourning; Lily trembled violently, andclung to her cousin's arm for support. Her tears streamed fast, buther sobs were checked by awe at Mrs. Eden's calmness. She felt as ifshe had been among the angels. 'How pale you are!' said her cousin, 'I would not have taken youthere if I thought it would overset you so much. Come into Mrs. Grey's, and sit down and recover a little. ' 'No, no, do not let me see any one, ' said Lily. 'Oh! that dearchild! Robert, let me tell you the worst, for your kindness is morethan I can bear. I promised Agnes a blister and forgot it!' She could say no more for some minutes, but her cousin did not speak. Recovering her voice, she added, 'Only speak to me, Robert. ' 'I am very sorry for you, ' answered he, in a kind tone. 'But tell me, what shall I do?' 'What to do, you ask, ' said the Rector; 'I am not sure that I knowwhat you mean. If your neglect has added to her sufferings, youcannot remove them; and I would not add to your sorrow unless youwished me to do so for your good. ' 'I do not see how I could be more unhappy than I am now, ' said Lily. 'I think if you wish to turn your grief to good account you must go alittle deeper than this omission. ' 'You mean that it is a result of general carelessness, ' said Lily; 'Iknow I have been in an odd idle way for some time; I have oftenresolved, but I seem to have no power over myself. ' 'May I ask you one question, Lily? How have you been spending thisLent?' 'Robert, you are right, ' cried Lily; 'you may well ask. I know Ihave not gone to church properly, but how could you guess theterrible way in which I have been indulging myself, and excusingmyself every unpleasant duty that came in my way? That was the veryreason of this dreadful neglect; well do I deserve to be miserable atEaster, the proper time for joy. Oh! how different it will be. ' 'It will be, I hope, an Easter marked by repentance and amendment, 'said the Rector. 'No, Robert, do not begin to be kind to me yet, you do not know howvery bad I have been, ' said Lily; 'it all began from just afterEleanor's wedding. A mad notion came into my head and laid hold ofme. I fancied Eleanor stern, and cold, and unlovable; I wasingratitude itself. I made a foolish theory, that regard for dutymakes people cold and stern, and that feeling, which I confused withChristian love, was all that was worth having, and the more Claudetried to cure me, the more obstinate I grew; I drew Emily over to myside, and we set our follies above everything. Justified ourselvesfor idling, neglecting the children, indulging ourselves, calling itlove, and so it was, self-love. So my temper has been spoiling, andmy mind getting worse and worse, ever since we lost Eleanor. At lastdifferent things showed me the fallacy of my principle, but then I dobelieve I was beyond my own management. I felt wrong, and could notmend, and went on recklessly. You know but too well what mischief Ihave done in the village, but you can never know what harm I havedone at home. I have seen more and more that I was going on badly, but a sleep, a spell was upon me. ' 'Perhaps the pain you now feel may be the means of breaking thespell. ' 'But is it not enough to drive me mad to think that improvement in meshould be bought at such a price--the widow's only child?' 'You forget that the loss is a blessing to her. ' 'Still I may pray that my punishment may not be through them, ' saidLily. 'Surely, ' was the answer, 'it is grievous to see that dear child cutoff; and her patient mother left desolate--yet how much more grievousit would be to see that spotless innocence defiled. ' 'If it was to fall on any one, ' said Lilias, 'I should be thankfulthat it is on one so fit to die. ' The church bell began to ring, and they quickened their steps insilence. Presently Lily said, 'Tell me of something to do, Robert, something that may be a pledge that my sorrow is not a passingshower, something unnecessary, but disagreeable, which may keep me inremembrance that my Lent was not one of self-denial. ' 'You must be able to find more opportunities of self-denial than Ican devise, ' said her cousin. 'Of course, ' said Lily; 'but some one thing, some punishment. ' 'I will answer you to-morrow, ' said Mr. Devereux. 'One thing more, ' said Lily, looking down; 'after this great fall, ought I to come to next Sunday's feast? I would turn away if youthought fit. ' 'Lily, you can best judge, ' said the Rector, kindly. 'I should thinkthat you were now in a humble, contrite frame, and therefore betterprepared than when self-confident. ' 'How many times! how shall I think of them! but I will, ' said Lily;'and Robert, will you think of me when you say the Absolution now andnext Sunday at the altar?' They were by this time at the church-porch. As Mr. Devereuxuncovered his head, he turned to Lilias, and said in a low tone, 'Godbless you, Lilias, and grant you true repentance and pardon. ' Early the next morning the toll of the passing-bell informed Lilythat the little lamb had been gathered into the heavenly fold. When she took her place in church she found in her Prayer-book a slipof paper in the handwriting of her cousin. It was thus: 'You hadbetter find out in which duty you have most failed, and let thefulfilment of that be your proof of self-denial. R. D. ' Afterwards Lily learnt that Agnes had been sensible for a short timebefore her peaceful death. She had spoken much of her baptism, hadbegged to be buried next to a little sister of Kezia's, and asked hermother to give her new Bible to Kezia. It was not till Sunday that Lilias felt as if she could ever becomforted. Her heart was indeed ready to break as she walked at thehead of the school children behind the white-covered coffin, and shefelt as if she did not deserve to dwell upon the child's presenthappiness; but afterwards she was relieved by joining in prayer forthe pardon of our sins and negligences, and she felt as if she wasforgiven, at least by man, when she joined with Mrs. Eden in theappointed feast of Easter Day. Mrs. Naylor was at church on that and several following Sundays; butthough her husband now showed every kindness to his sister, he stillobstinately refused to be reconciled to Mr. Devereux. For many weeks poor little Kezia looked very unhappy. Her blithesmiles were gone, her eyes filled with tears whenever she wasreminded of her friend, she walked to school alone, she did not jointhe sports of the other children, but she kept close to the side ofMrs. Eden, and seemed to have no pleasure but with her, or in nursingher little sister, who, two Sundays after the funeral, was christenedby the name of Agnes. It was agreed by Mr. Mohun and Lilias that the grave of the littlegirl should be marked by a stone cross, thus inscribed 'AGNES EDEN, April 8th, 1846, Aged 7 years. "He shall gather the lambs in His arms. "' CHAPTER XVIII: DOUBLE, DOUBLE TOIL AND TROUBLE 'Truly the tender mercies of the weak, As of the wicked, are but cruel. ' And how did Lilias show that she had been truly benefited by hersorrows? Did she fall back into her habits of self-indulgence, ordid she run into ill-directed activity, selfish as her indolence, because only gratifying the passion of the moment? Those who lived with her saw but little change; kind-hearted andgenerous she had ever been, and many had been her good impulses, sothat while she daily became more steady in well-doing, and exertingherself on principle, no one remarked it, and no one entered into thestruggles which it cost her to tame her impetuosity, or force herselfto do what was disagreeable to herself, and might offend Emily. However, Emily could forgive a great deal when she found that Lilywas ready to take any part of the business of the household andschoolroom, which she chose to impose upon her, without the leastobjection, yet to leave her to assume as much of the credit ofmanaging as she chose--to have no will or way of her own, and to helpher to keep her wardrobe in order. The schoolroom was just now more of a labour than had ever been thecase, at least to one who, like Lilias, if she did a thing at all, would not be satisfied with half doing it. Phyllis was not altered, except that she cried less, and had in a great measure cured herselfof dawdling habits and tricks, by her honest efforts to obey well-remembered orders of Eleanor's; but still her slowness and dulnesswere trying to her teachers, and Lily had often to reproach herselffor being angry with her 'when she was doing her best. ' But Adeline was Lily's principal trouble; there was a change in her, for which her sister could not account. Last year, when Eleanor leftthem, Ada was a sweet-tempered, affectionate child, docile, gentle, and, excepting a little occasional affectation and carelessness, veryfree from faults; but now her attention could hardly be commanded forfive minutes together; she had lost the habit of ready and implicitobedience, was petulant when reproved, and was far more eager toattract notice from strangers--more conceited, and, therefore, moreaffected, and, worse than all, Lily sometimes thought she perceived alittle slyness, though she was never able to prove any one instancecompletely to herself, much less to bring one before her father. Thus, if Ada had done any mischief, she would indeed confess it onbeing examined; but when asked why she had not told of it directly, would say she had forgotten; she would avail herself of Phyllis'sassistance in her lessons without acknowledging it, and Lilias foundit was by no means safe to leave the Key to the French Exercisesalone in the room with her. Emily's mismanagement had fostered Ada's carelessness andinattention. Lady Rotherwood's injudicious caresses helped to makeher more affected; other faults had grown up for want of sufficientcontrol, but this last was principally Esther's work. Esther haddone well at school; she liked learning, was stimulated by notice, was really attached to Lilias, and tried to deserve her goodwill; buther training at school and at home were so different, that herconduct was, even at the best, far too much of eye-service, and shehad very little idea of real truth and sincerity. On first coming to the New Court she flattered the children, becauseshe did not know how to talk to them otherwise, and afterwards, because she found that Miss Ada's affections were to be gained bypraise. Then, in her ignorant good-nature, she had no scruples aboutconcealing mischief which the children had done, or procuring for Adalittle forbidden indulgences on her promise of secrecy, a promisewhich Phyllis would not give, thus putting a stop to all those inwhich she would have participated. It was no wonder that Ada, sometimes helping Esther to deceive, sometimes deceived by her, should have learnt the same kind of cunning, and ceased to think it amatter of course to be true and just in all her dealings. But how was it that Phyllis remained the same 'honest Phyl' that shehad ever been, not one word savouring of aught but strict truthhaving ever crossed her lips, her thoughts and deeds full ofguileless simplicity? She met with the same temptations, the sameneglect, the same bad example, as her sister; why had they no effectupon her? In the first place, flattery could not touch her, it waslike water on a duck's back, she did not know that it was flattery, but so thoroughly humble was her mind that no words of Esther's wouldmake her believe herself beautiful, agreeable, or clever. Yet shenever found out that Esther over-praised her sister; she admired Adaso much that she never suspected that any commendation of her wasmore than she deserved. Again, Phyllis never thought of makingherself appear to advantage, and her humility saved her from thehabit of concealing small faults, for which she expected nopunishment; and, when seriously to blame, punishment seemed sonatural a consequence, that she never thought of avoiding it, otherwise than by expressing sorrow for her fault. She wasuninfected by Esther's deceit, though she never suspected any want oftruth; her singleness of mind was a shield from all evil; she knewshe was no favourite in the nursery, but she never expected to beliked as much as Ada, her pride and glory. In the meantime Emilywent on contriving opportunities and excuses for spending her time atDevereux Castle, letting everything fall into Lily's hands, everything that she had so eagerly undertaken little more than a yearago. And now all was confusion; the excellent order in which Eleanorhad left the household affairs was quite destroyed. Attention to thestoreroom was one of the ways in which Lilias thought that she couldbest follow the advice of Mr. Devereux, since Eleanor had alwaystaught that great exactness in this point was most necessary. Greatdisorder now, however, prevailed there, and she found that her onlychance of rectifying it was to measure everything she found there, and to beg Emily to allow her to keep the key; for, when severalpersons went to the storeroom, no one ever knew what was given out, and she was sure that the sweet things diminished much faster thanthey ought to do; but her sister treated the proposal as an attemptto deprive her of her dignity, and she was silenced. She was up almost with the light, to despatch whatever householdaffairs could be settled without Emily, before the time came for thechildren's lessons; many hours were spent on these, while she wascontinually harassed by Phyllis's dulness, Ada's inattention, and theinterruption of work to do for Emily, and often was she baffled byinterference from Jane or Emily. She was conscious of her unfitnessto teach the children, and often saw that her impatience, ignorance, and inefficiency, were doing mischief; but much as this pained her, she could not speak to her father without compromising her sister, and to argue with Emily herself was quite in vain. Emily had takenup the principle of love, and defended herself with it on everyoccasion, so that poor Lily was continually punished by having herpast follies quoted against herself. Each day Emily grew more selfish and indolent; now that Lily waswilling to supply all that she neglected, and to do all that sheasked, she proved how tyrannical the weak can be. The whole of her quarter's allowance was spent in dress, and Lilysoon found that the only chance of keeping her out of debt was tospend her own time and labour in her behalf; and what an exertion ofpatience and kindness this required can hardly be imagined. Emilydid indeed reward her skill with affectionate thanks and kindpraises, but she interfered with her sleep and exercise, by her wantof consideration, and hardened herself more and more in her apatheticselfishness. Some weeks after Easter Lilias was arranging some books on a shelf inthe schoolroom, when she met with a crumpled piece of music-paper, squeezed in behind the books. It proved to be Miss Weston's lostsong, creased, torn, dust-stained, and spoiled; she carried it toEmily, who decided that nothing could be done but to copy it forAlethea, and apologise for the disaster. Framing apologies was morein Emily's way than copying music; and the former task, therefore, devolved upon Lily, and occupied her all one afternoon, when sheought to have been seeking a cure for the headache in the fresh air. It was no cure to find the name of Emma Weston in the corner, and toperceive how great and irreparable the loss of the paper was to herfriend. The thought of all her wrongs towards Alethea, caused morethan one large tear to fall, to blot the heads of her crotchets andquavers, and thus give her all her work to do over again. The letter that she wrote was so melancholy and repentant, that itgave great pain to her kind friend, who thought illness alone couldaccount for the dejection apparent in the general tone of all herexpressions. In answer, she sent a very affectionate consolingletter, begging Lily to think no more of the matter; and though shehad too much regard for truth to say that she had not been grieved bythe loss of Emma's writing, she added that Lily's distress gave herfar more pain, and that her copy would have great value in her eyes. The beginning of June now arrived, and brought with it the time forthe return of Claude and Lord Rotherwood. The Marquis's carriage met him at Raynham, and he set down Claude atNew Court, on his way to Hetherington, just coming in to exchange ahurried greeting with the young ladies. Their attention was principally taken up by their brother. 'Claude, how well you look! How fat you are!' was their exclamation. 'Is not he?' said Lord Rotherwood. 'I am quite proud of him. Notone headache since he went. He will have no excuse for not dancingthe polka. ' 'I do not return the compliment to you, Lily, ' said Claude, lookinganxiously at his sister. 'What is the matter with you? Have youbeen ill?' 'Oh, no! not at all!' said Lily, smiling. 'I am sure there is enough to make any one ill, ' said Emily, in herdeplorable tone; 'I thought this poor parish had had its share ofillness, with the scarlet fever, and now it has turned to a horribletyphus fever. ' 'Indeed!' said Claude. 'Where? Who?' 'Oh! the Naylors, and the Rays, and the Walls. John Ray died thismorning, and they do not think that Tom Naylor will live. ' 'Well, ' interrupted Lord Rotherwood, 'I shall not stop to hear anymore of this chapter of accidents. I am off, but mind, remember the30th, and do not any of you frighten yourselves into the fever. ' He went, and Lily now spoke. 'There is one thing in all this, Claude, that is matter of joy, Tom Naylor has sent for Robert. ' 'Then, Lily, I do most heartily congratulate you. ' 'I hope things may go better, ' said Lily, with tears in her eyes. 'The poor baby is with its grandmother. Mrs. Naylor is ill too, andevery one is so afraid of the fever that nobody goes near them butRobert, and Mrs. Eden, and old Dame Martin. Robert says Naylor is ina satisfactory frame--determined on having the baby christened--but, oh! I am afraid the christening is to be bought by somethingterrible. ' 'I do not think those fevers are often very infectious, ' said Claude. 'So papa says, ' replied Emily; 'but Robert looks very ill. He iswearing himself out with sitting up. Making himself nurse as well aseverything else. ' This was very distressing, but still Claude scarcely thought itaccounted for the change that had taken place in Lilias. Her cheekwas pale, her eye heavy, her voice had lost its merry tone; Claudeknew that she had had much to grieve her, but he was as yet far fromsuspecting how she was overworked and harassed. He spoke ofEleanor's return, and she did not brighten; she smiled sadly at hisattempts to cheer her, and he became more and more anxious about her. He was not long in discovering what was the matter. The second day after his return Robert told them at the churchyardgate that Tom Naylor was beginning to mend, and this seemed to be agreat comfort to Lily, who walked home with a blither step thanusual. Claude betook himself to the study, and saw no more of hissisters till two o'clock, when Lily appeared, with the languid, dejected look which she had lately worn, and seemed to find it quitean effort to keep the tears out of her eyes. Ada and Phyllis were invery high spirits, because they were going to Raynham with Emily andJane, and at every speech of Ada's Lily looked more grieved. Afterthe Raynham party were gone Claude began to look for Lily. He foundher in her room, an evening dress spread on the bed, a roll of ribbonin one hand, and with the other supporting her forehead, while tearswere slowly rolling down her cheeks. 'Lily, my dear, what is the matter?' 'Oh! nothing, nothing, Claude, ' said she, quickly. 'Nothing! no, that is not true. Tell me, Lily. You have beendisconsolate ever since I came home, and I will not let it go on so. No answer? Then am I to suppose that these new pearlins are thecause of her sorrow? Come, Lily, be like yourself, and speak. Moretears! Here, drink this water, be yourself again, or I shall beangry and vexed. Now then, that is right: make an effort, and tellme. ' 'There is nothing to tell, ' said Lily; 'only you are very kind--I donot know what is the matter with me--only I have been very foolish oflate--and everything makes me cry. ' 'My poor child, I knew you had not been well. They do not know howto take care of you, Lily, and I shall take you in hand. I am goingto order the horses, and we will have a gallop over the Downs, andput a little colour into your cheeks. ' 'No, no, thank you, Claude, I cannot come, indeed I cannot, I havethis work, which must be done to-day. ' 'At work at your finery instead of coming out! You must be altered, indeed, Lily. ' 'It is not for myself, ' said Lily, 'but I promised Emily she shouldhave it ready to wear to-morrow. ' 'Emily, oh? So she is making a slave of you?' 'No, no, it was a voluntary promise. She does not care about it, only she would be disappointed, and I have promised. ' 'I hate promises!' said Claude. 'Well, what must be, must be, so Iwill resign myself to this promise of yours, only do not make suchanother. Well, but that was not all; you were not crying about thatfine green thing, were you?' 'Oh, no!' said Lily, smiling, as now she could smile again. 'What then? I will know, Lily. ' 'I was only vexed at something about the children. ' 'Then what was it?' 'It was only that Ada was idle at her lessons; I told her to learn averb as a punishment, she went to Emily, and, somehow or other, Emilydid not find out the exact facts, excused her, and took her toRaynham. I was vexed, because I am sure it does Ada harm, and Emilydid not understand what I said afterwards; I am sure she thought meunjust. ' 'How came she not to be present?' 'Emily does not often sit in the schoolroom in the morning, since shehas been about that large drawing. ' 'So you are governess as well as ladies'-maid, are you, Lily? Whatelse? Housekeeper, I suppose, as I see you have all the weekly billson your desk. Why, Lily, this is perfectly philanthropic of you. You are exemplifying the rule of love in a majestic manner. Cryingagain! Water lily once more?' Lily looked up, and smiled; 'Claude, how can you talk of that old, silly, nay, wicked nonsense of my principle. I was wise above whatwas written, and I have my punishment in the wreck which my "frenzyof spirit and folly of tongue" have wrought. The unchristened child, Agnes's death, the confusion of this house, all are owing to myhateful principle. I see the folly of it now, but Emily has taken itup, and acts upon it in everything. I do struggle against it alittle; but I cannot blame any one, I can do no good, it is all owingto me. We have betrayed papa's confidence; if he does not see it nowit will all come upon him when Eleanor comes home, and what is tobecome of us? How it will grieve him to see that we cannot betrusted!' 'Poor Lily!' said Claude. 'It is a bad prospect, but I think you seethe worst side of it. You are not well, and, therefore, doleful. This, Lily, I can tell you, that the Baron always considered Emily'sgovernment as a kind of experiment, and so perhaps he will not be sogrievously disappointed as you expect. Besides, I have a strongsuspicion that Emily's own nature has quite as much to do with herpresent conduct as your principle, which, after all, did not livevery long. ' 'Just long enough to unsettle me, and make it more difficult for meto get any way right, ' said Lily. 'Oh! dear, what would I give toforce backward the wheels of time!' 'But as you cannot, you had better try to brighten up your energies. Come, you know I cannot tell you not to look back, but I can tell younot to look forward. Nay, I do tell you literally, to look forward, out of the window, instead of back into this hot room. Do not youthink the plane-tree there looks very inviting? Suppose we transportEmily's drapery there, and I want to refresh my memory with Spenser;I do not think I have touched him since plane-tree time last year. ' 'I believe Spenser and the plane-tree are inseparably woven togetherin your mind, ' said Lily. 'Yes, ever since the time when I first met with the book. I rememberwell roving over the bookcase, and meeting with it, and taking it outthere, for fear Eleanor should see me and tell mama. Phyl, with AsYou Like It, put me much in mind of myself with that. ' Claude talked in this manner, while Lily, listening with a smile, prepared her work. He read, and she listened. It was such a treatas she had not enjoyed for a long time, for she had begun to thinkthat all her pleasant reading days were past. Her work prospered, and her face was bright when her sisters came home. But, alas! Emily was not pleased with her performance; she said thatshe intended something quite different, and by manner, rather than bywords, indicated that she should not be satisfied unless Lilycompletely altered it. It was to be worn at the castle the nextevening, and Lily knew she should have no time for it in the courseof the day. Accordingly, at half-past twelve, as Claude was going upto bed, he saw a light under his sister's door, and knocked to askthe cause. Lily was still at work upon the trimming, and very angryhe was, particularly when she begged him to take care not to disturbEmily. At last, by threatening to awake her, for the express purposeof giving her a scolding, he made Lily promise to go to bedimmediately, a promise which she, poor weary creature, was very gladto make. Claude now resolved to tell his father the state of things, for hewell knew that though it was easy to obtain a general promise fromEmily, it was likely to be of little effect in preventing her fromspurring her willing horse to death. The next morning he rose in time to join his father in the surveywhich he usually took of his fields before breakfast, and immediatelybeginning on the subject on which he was anxious, he gave a fullaccount of his sister's proceedings. 'In short, ' said he, 'Emily andAda torment poor Lily every hour of her life; she bears it all as asort of penance, and how it is to end I cannot tell. ' 'Unless, ' said Mr. Mohun, smiling, 'as Rotherwood would say, Jupiterwill interfere. Well, Jupiter has begun to take measures, and hasasked Mrs. Weston to look out for a governess. Eh! Claude?' hecontinued, after a pause, 'you set up your eyebrows, do you? Youthink it will be a bore. Very likely, but there is nothing else tobe done. Jane is under no control, Phyllis running wild, Ada worsemanaged than any child of my acquaintance--' 'And poor Lily wearing herself to a shadow, in vain attempts to mendmatters, ' said Claude. 'If Lily was the eldest, things would be very different, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'Or even if she had been as wise last year as she is now, ' saidClaude, 'she would have kept Emily in order then, but now it is toolate. ' 'This year is, on many accounts, much to be regretted, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'but I think it has brought out Lily's character. ' 'And a very fine character it is, ' said Claude. 'Very. She has been, and is, more childish than Eleanor ever was, but she is her superior in most points. She has been your pupil, Claude, and she does you credit. ' 'Thereby hangs a tale which does me no credit, ' muttered Claude, ashe remembered how foolishly he had roused her spirit ofcontradiction, besides the original mischief of naming Eleanor theduenna; 'but we will not enter into that now. I see this governessis their best chance. Have you heard of one?' 'Of several; but the only one who seems likely to suit us is out ofreach for the present, and I do not regret it, for I shall not decidetill Eleanor comes. ' 'Emily will not be much pleased, ' said Claude. 'It has long been hergreat dread that Aunt Rotherwood should recommend one. ' 'Ay, Emily's objections and your aunt's recommendations are what Iwould gladly avoid, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'But Lily!' said Claude, returning to the subject on which he wasmost anxious. 'She is already what Ada calls a monotony, and therewill be nothing left of her by the time Eleanor comes, if matters goon in their present fashion. ' 'I have a plan for her. A little change will set her to rights, andwe will take her to London when we go next week to meet Eleanor. Shedeserves a little extra pleasure; you must take her under yourprotection, and lionise her well. ' 'Trust me for that, ' said Claude. 'It is the best news I have heardfor a long time. ' 'Well, I am glad that one of my remedies meets with yourapprobation, ' said his father, smiling. 'For the other, you are muchinclined to pronounce the cure as bad as the disease. ' 'Not for Lily, ' said Claude, laughing. 'And, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'I think I can promise you that a remedy willbe found for all the other grievances by Michaelmas. ' Claude looked surprised, but as Mr. Mohun explained no further, onlyobserving upon the potatoes, through which they were walking, he onlysaid, 'Then it is next week that you go to London. ' 'There is much to do, both for Rotherwood and for Eleanor; I shall goas soon as I can, but I do not think it will be while this fever isso prevalent. I had rather not be from home--I do not like Robert'slooks. ' CHAPTER XIX: THE RECTOR'S ILLNESS 'Thou drooping sick man, bless the guideThat checked, or turned thy headstrong youth. ' The thought of her brother's kindness, and the effect of hisconsolation, made Lilias awake that morning in more cheerful spirits;but it was not long before grief and anxiety again took possession ofher. The first sound that she heard on opening the schoolroom window wasthe tolling of the church bell, giving notice of the death of anotherof those to whom she felt bound by the ties of neighbourhood. At church she saw that Mr. Devereux was looking more ill than he yethad done, and it was plainly with very great exertion that hesucceeded in finishing the service. The Mohun party waited, asusual, to speak to him afterwards, for since his attendance uponNaylor had begun he had not thought it safe to come to the New Courtas usual, lest he should bring the infection to them. He was verypale, and walked wearily, but he spoke cheerfully, as he told themthat Naylor was now quite out of danger. 'Then I hope you did not stay there all last night, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'No, I did not, I was so tired when I came back from poor John Ray'sfuneral, that I thought I would take a holiday, and sleep at home. ' 'I am afraid you have not profited by your night's rest, ' said Emily, 'you look as if you had a horrible headache. ' 'Now, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'I prescribe for you that you go home and liedown. I am going to Raynham, and I will tell your friend there thatyou want help for the evening service. Do not think of moving againto-day. I shall send Claude home with you to see that you obey myprescription. ' Claude went home with his cousin, and his sisters saw him no moretill late in the day, when he came to tell them that Mr. Mohun hadbrought back Dr. Leslie from Raynham with him, that Dr. Leslie hadseen Mr. Devereux, and had pronounced that he had certainly caughtthe fever. Lily had made up her mind to this for some time, but still it seemedalmost as great a blow as if it had come without any preparation. The next day was the first Sunday that Mr. Devereux had not read theservice since he had been Rector of Beechcroft. The villagers lookedsadly at the stranger who appeared in his place, and many tears wereshed when the prayers of the congregation were desired for RobertDevereux, and Thomas and Martha Naylor. It was announced that thedaily service would be discontinued for the present, and Lily felt asif all the blessings which she had misused were to be taken from her. For some time Mr. Devereux continued very ill, and Dr. Leslie gavelittle hope of his improvement. Mr. Mohun and Claude were hisconstant attendants--an additional cause of anxiety to the MissMohuns. Emily was listless and melancholy, talking in a maundering, dismal way, not calculated to brace her spirits or those of hersisters. Jane was not without serious thoughts, but whether theywould benefit her depended on herself; for, as we have seen by theevents of the autumn, sorrow and suffering do not necessarily producegood effects, though some effects they always produce. Thus it was with Lilias. Grief and anxiety aided her in subduing herwill and learning resignation. She did not neglect her daily duties, but was more exact in their fulfilment; and low as her spirits hadbeen before, she now had an inward spring which enabled her to be thesupport of the rest. She was useful to her father, always ready totalk to Claude, or walk with him in the intervals when he was sentout of the sickroom to rest and breathe the fresh air. She wascheerful and patient with Emily, and devoid of petulance when annoyedby the spirits of the younger ones rising higher than accorded withthe sad and anxious hearts of their elders. Her most painful feelingwas, that it was possible that she might be punished through hercousin, as she had already been through Agnes; that her follies mighthave brought this distress upon every one, and that this was theprice at which the child's baptism was to be bought. Yet Lily wouldnot have changed her present thoughts for any of her varying framesof mind since that fatal Whitsuntide. Better feelings were springingup within her than she had then known; the church service and Sundaywere infinitely more to her, and she was beginning to obtain peace ofmind independent of external things. She could not help rejoicing to see how many evidences of affectionto the Rector were called forth by this illness; presents of fruitpoured in from all quarters, from Lord Rotherwood's choice hothousegrapes, to poor little Kezia Grey's wood-strawberries; inquiries werecontinual, and the stillness of the village was wonderful. There wasno cricket on the hill, no talking in the street, no hallooing in thehay-field, and no burst of noise when the children were let out ofschool. Many of the people were themselves in grief for the loss oftheir own relations; and when on Sunday the Miss Mohuns saw how manywere dressed in black, they thought with a pang how soon theythemselves might be mourning for one whose influence they hadcrippled, and whose plans they had thwarted during the three shortyears of his ministry. During this time it was hard to say whether Lord Rotherwood was moreof a comfort or a torment. He was attached to his cousin with allthe ardour of his affectionate disposition, and not one day passedwithout his appearing at Beechcroft. At first it was always in theparlour at the parsonage that he took up his station, and waited tillhe could find some means of getting at Claude or his uncle, to hearthe last report from them, and if possible to make Claude come outfor a walk or ride with him. And once Mr. Mohun caught him standingjust outside Mr. Devereux's door, waiting for an opportunity to makean entrance. He could not, or would not see why Mr. Mohun shouldallow Claude to run the risk of infection rather than himself, andthus he kept his mother in continual anxiety, and even his unclecould not feel by any means certain that he would not do somethingimprudent. At last a promise was extracted from him that he wouldnot again enter the parsonage, but he would not gratify LadyRotherwood so far as to abstain from going to Beechcroft, a placewhich she began to regard with horror. He now was almost constantlyat the New Court, talking over the reports, and quite provoking Emilyby never desponding, and never choosing to perceive how bad thingsreally were. Every day which was worse than the last was supposed tobe the crisis, and every restless sleep that they heard of heinterpreted into the beginning of recovery. At last, however, afterten days of suspense, the report began to improve, and Claude came tothe New Court with a more cheerful face, to say that his cousin wasmunch better. The world seemed immediately to grow brighter, peoplewent about with joyful looks, Lord Rotherwood declared that from thefirst he had known all would be well, and Lily began to hope that nowshe had been spared so heavy a punishment, it was a kind of earnestthat other things would mend, that she had suffered enough. Thefuture no longer hung before her in such dark colours as before Mr. Devereux's illness, though still the New Court was in no satisfactorystate, and still she had reason to expect that her father and Eleanorwould be disappointed and grieved. Thankfulness that Mr. Devereuxwas recovering, and that Claude had escaped the infection, made heronce more hopeful and cheerful; she let the morrow take thought forthe things of itself, rejoicing that it was not her business to makearrangements. CHAPTER XX: THE LITTLE NEPHEW 'You must be father, mother, both, And uncle, all in one. ' Mr. Mohun had much business to transact in London which he could notleave undone, and as soon as his nephew began to recover he thoughtof setting off to meet Mr. And Mrs. Hawkesworth, who had already beena week at Lady Rotherwood's house in Grosvenor Square, which she hadlent to them for the occasion. Claude had intended to stay at home, as his cousin was not yet well enough to leave the room; but just atthis time a college friend of the Rector's, hearing of his illness, wrote to propose to come and stay with him for a month or six weeks, and help him in serving his church. Mr. Devereux was particularlyglad to accept this kind offer, as it left him no longer dependent onMr. Stephens and the Raynham curates, and set Claude at liberty forthe London expedition. All was settled in the short space of oneday. The very next they were to set off, and in great haste; Lilydid all she could for the regulation of the house, packed up hergoods, and received the commissions of her sisters. Ada gave her six shillings, with orders to buy either a doll or abook--the former if Eleanor did not say it was silly; and Phyllis putinto her hands a weighty crown piece, begging for as many things asit could buy. Jane's wants and wishes were moderate and sensible, and she gave Lily the money for them. With Emily there was moredifficulty. All Lily's efforts had not availed to prevent her fromcontracting two debts at Raynham. More than four pounds she owed toLily, and this she offered to pay her, giving her at the same time alist of commissions sufficient to swallow up double her quarter'sallowance. Lily, though really in want of the money for her own use, thought the debts at Raynham so serious, that she begged Emily to lether wait for payment till it was convenient, and to pay the shoemakerand dressmaker immediately. Emily thanked her, and promised to do so as soon as she could go toRaynham, and Lily next attempted to reduce her list of Londoncommissions to something more reasonable. In part she succeeded, butit remained a matter of speculation how all the necessary articleswhich she had to buy for herself, and all Emily's various orders, were to come out of her own means, reduced as they were by formerloans. The next day Lilias was on her way to London; feeling, as she leftBeechcroft, that it was a great relief that the schoolroom andstoreroom could not follow her. She was sorry that she should missseeing Alethea Weston, who was to come home the next day, but sheleft various messages for her, and an affectionate note, and hadreceived a promise from her sisters that the copy of the music shouldbe given to her the first day that they saw her. Her journeyafforded her much amusement, and it was not till towards the end ofthe day that she had much time for thinking, when, her companionsbeing sleepily inclined, she was left to her own meditations and to adull country. She began to revolve her own feelings towards Eleanor, and as she remembered the contempt and ingratitude she had onceexpressed, she shrank from the meeting with shame and dread, and knewthat she should feel reproached by Eleanor's wonted calmness ofmanner. And as she mused upon all that Eleanor had endured, and allthat she had done, such a reverence for suffering and sacrifice tookpossession of her mind that she was ready to look up to her sisterwith awe. She began to recollect old reproofs, and found herselfsitting more upright, and examining the sit of the folds of her dresswith some uneasiness at the thought of Eleanor's preciseness. In themidst of her meditations her two companions were roused by theslackening speed of the train, and starting up, informed her thatthey were arriving at their journey's end. The next minute she heardher father consigning her and the umbrellas to Mr. Hawkesworth'scare, and all was bewilderment till she found herself in the hall ofher aunt's house, receiving as warm and affectionate a greeting fromEleanor as Emily herself could have bestowed. 'And the baby, Eleanor?' 'Asleep, but you shall see him; and how is Ada? and all of them? why, Claude, how well you look! Papa, let me help you to take off yourgreatcoat--you are cold--will you have a fire?' Never had Lily heard Eleanor say so much in a breath, or seen her eyeso bright, or her smile so ready, yet, when she entered the drawing-room, she saw that Mrs. Hawkesworth was still the Eleanor of old. Incontrast with the splendid furniture of the apartments, a pile ofshirts was on the table, Eleanor's well-known work-basket on thefloor, and the ceaseless knitting close at hand. Much news was exchanged in the few minutes that elapsed beforeEleanor carried off her sister to her room, indulging her by the waywith a peep at little Harry, and one kiss to his round red cheek ashe lay asleep in his little bed. It was not Eleanor's fault that shedid not entirely dress Lily, and unpack her wardrobe; but Liliasliked to show that she could manage for herself; and Eleanor's praiseof her neat arrangements gave her as much pleasure as in days ofyore. The evening passed very happily. Eleanor's heart was open, she wasfull of enjoyment at meeting those she loved, and the two sisters satlong together in the twilight, talking over numerous subjects, allending in Beechcroft or the baby. Yet when Lily awoke the next morning her awe of Eleanor began toreturn, and she felt like a child just returned to school. She was, however, mistaken; Eleanor assumed no authority, she treated Lily asher equal, and thus made her feel more like a woman than she had everdone before. Lily thought either that Eleanor was much altered, orthat in her folly she must have fancied her far more cold and gravethan she really was. She had, however, no time for studying hercharacter; shopping and sight-seeing filled up most of her time, andthe remainder was spent in resting, and in playing with little Henry. One evening, when Mr. Mohun and Claude were dining out, Lilias wasleft alone with Mr. And Mrs. Hawkesworth. Lily was very tired, butshe worked steadily at marking Eleanor's pocket-handkerchiefs, untilher sister, seeing how weary she was, made her lie down on the sofa. 'Here is a gentleman who is tired too, ' said Eleanor, dancing thebaby; 'we will carry you off, sir, and leave Aunt Lily to go tosleep. ' 'Aunt Lily is not so tired as that, ' said Lily; 'pray keep him. ' 'It is quite bedtime, ' said Eleanor, in her decided tone, and shecarried him off. Lilias took up the knitting which she had laid down, and began tostudy the stitches. 'I should like this feathery pattern, ' said she, '(if it did not remind me so much of the fever); but, by the bye, Frank, have you completed Master Henry's outfit? I looked forward tohelping to choose his pretty little things, but I see no preparationbut of stockings. ' 'Why, Lily, did not you know that he was to stay in England?' 'To stay in England? No, I never thought of that--how sorry you mustbe. ' At this moment Eleanor returned, and Mr. Hawkesworth told her he hadbeen surprised to find Lily did not know their intentions with regardto the baby. 'If we had any certain intentions we should have told her, ' saidEleanor; 'I did not wish to speak to her about it till we had made upour minds. ' 'Well, I know no use in mysteries, ' said Mr. Hawkesworth, 'especiallywhen Lily may help us to decide. ' 'On his going or staying?' exclaimed Lily, eagerly looking to Mr. Hawkesworth, who was evidently more disposed to speak than his wife. 'Not on his going or staying--I am sorry to say that point wassettled long ago--but where we shall leave him. ' Lily's heart beat high, but she did not speak. 'The truth is, ' proceeded Mr. Hawkesworth, 'that this young gentlemanhas, as perhaps you know, a grandpapa, a grandmamma, and also six orseven aunts. With his grandmamma he cannot be left, for sundryreasons, unnecessary to mention. Now, one of his aunts is a staidmatronly lady, and his godmother besides, and in all respects theperson to take charge of him, --only she lives in a small house in atown, and has plenty of babies of her own, without being troubledwith other people's. Master Henry's other five aunts live in onegreat house, in a delightful country, with nothing to do but makemuch of him all day long, yet it is averred that these said aunts area parcel of giddy young colts, amongst whom, if Henry escapes beingdemolished as a baby he will infallibly be spoilt as he grows up. Now, how are we to decide?' 'You have heard the true state of the case, Lily, ' said Mrs. Hawkesworth. 'I did not wish to harass papa by speaking to him tillsomething was settled; you are certainly old enough to have anopinion. ' 'Yes, Lily, ' said Frank; 'do you think that the hospitable New Courtwill open to receive our poor deserted child, and that these saidaunts are not wild colts but discreet damsels?' Playful as Mr. Hawkesworth's manner was, Lily saw the earnestnessthat was veiled under it: she felt the solemnity of Eleanor'sappeal, and knew that this was no time to let herself be swayed byher wishes. There was a silence. At last, after a great struggle, Lily's better judgment gained the mastery, and raising her head, shesaid, 'Oh! Frank, do not ask me--I wish--but, Eleanor, when you seehow much harm we have done, how utterly we have failed--' Lily's newly-acquired habits of self-command enabled her to subdue aviolent fit of sobbing, which she felt impending, but her tearsflowed quietly down her cheeks. 'Remember, ' said Frank, 'those who mistrust themselves are the mosttrustworthy. ' 'No, Frank, it is not only the feeling of the greatness of thecharge, it is the knowledge that we are not fit for it--that our ownfaults have forfeited such happiness. ' Again Lily was choked with tears. 'Well, ' said Frank, 'we shall judge at Beechcroft. At all events, one of those aunts is to be respected. ' Eleanor added her 'Very right. ' This kindness on the part of her brother-in-law, which Lily felt tobe undeserved, caused her tears to flow faster, and Eleanor, seeingher quite overcome, led her out of the room, helped her to undress, and put her to bed, with tenderness such as Lily had neverexperienced from her, excepting in illness. In spite of bitter regrets, when she thought of the happiness itwould have been to keep her little nephew, and of importunate anddisappointing hopes that Mrs. Ridley would find it impossible toreceive him, Lily felt that she had done right, and had made a realsacrifice for duty's sake. No more was said on the subject, and Lilywas very grateful to Eleanor for making no inquiries, which she couldnot have answered without blaming Emily. Sight-seeing prospered very well under Claude's guidance, and Lily'swonder and delight was a constant source of amusement to her friends. Her shopping was more of a care than a pleasure, for, in spite of thehandsome equipments which Mr. Mohun presented to all his daughters, it was impossible to contract Emily's requirements within the limitsof what ought to be her expenditure, and the different views of herbrother and sister were rather troublesome in this matter. Claudehated the search for ladies' finery, and if drawn into it, insistedon always taking her to the grandest and most expensive shops; while, on the other hand, though Eleanor liked to hunt up cheap things andgood bargains, she had such rigid ideas about plainness of dress, that there was little chance that what she approved would satisfyEmily. CHAPTER XXI: CHARITY BEGINS AT HOME 'Suddenly, a mighty jerkA mighty mischief did. ' In the meantime Emily and Jane went on very prosperously at home, looking forward to the return of the rest of the party on Saturday, the 17th of July. In this, however, they were doomed todisappointment, for neither Mr. Mohun nor Mr. Hawkesworth could windup their affairs so as to return before the 24th. Maurice's holidayscommenced on Monday the 19th, and Claude offered to go home on thesame day, and meet him, but in a general council it was determined tothe contrary. Claude was wanted to stay for a concert on Thursday, and both Mr. Mohun and Eleanor thought Maurice, without Reginald, would not be formidable for a few days. At first he seemed to justify this opinion. He did not appear tohave any peculiar pursuit, unless such might be called a very earnestattempt to make Phyllis desist from her favourite preface of 'I'lltell you what, ' and to reform her habit of saying, 'Please for, 'instead of 'If you please. ' He walked with the sisters, carriedmessages for Mr. Devereux, performed some neat little bits ofcarpentry, and was very useful and agreeable. On Wednesday afternoon Lord Rotherwood and Florence called, theirheads the more full of the 30th because the Marquis had not oncethought of it while Mr. Devereux was ill. Among the intendeddiversions fireworks were mentioned, and from that moment rockets, wheels, and serpents, commenced a wild career through Maurice'sbrain. Through the whole evening he searched for books on what hewas pleased to call the art of pyrotechnics, studied them allWednesday, and the next morning announced his intention of makingsome fireworks on a new plan. 'No, you must not, ' said Emily, 'you will be sure to do mischief. ' 'I am going to ask Wat for some powder, ' was Maurice's reply, and hewalked off. 'Stop him, Jane, stop him, ' cried Emily. 'Nothing can be sodangerous. Tell him how angry papa would be. ' Though Jane highly esteemed her brother's discretion, she did notmuch like the idea of his touching powder, and she ran after him tosuggest that he had better wait till papa's return. 'Then Redgie will be at home, ' said Maurice, 'and I could not beanswerable for the consequence of such a careless fellow touchingpowder. ' This great proof of caution quite satisfied Jane, but not so WatGreenwood, who proved himself a faithful servant by refusing to letMaster Maurice have one grain of gunpowder without express leave fromthe squire. Maurice then had recourse to Jane, and his power overher was such as to triumph over strong sense and weak notions ofobedience, so that she was prevailed upon to supply him with themeans of making the dangerous and forbidden purchase. Emily was both annoyed and alarmed when she found that the gunpowderwas actually in the house, and she even thought of sending a note tothe parsonage to beg Mr. Devereux to speak to Maurice; but Jane hadgone over to the enemy, and Emily never could do anythingunsupported. Besides, she neither liked to affront Maurice nor toconfess herself unable to keep him in order; and she, therefore, tried to put the whole matter out of her head, in the thoughts of anexpedition to Raynham, which she was about to make in the manner shebest liked, with Jane in the close carriage, and the horsesreluctantly spared from their farm work. As they were turning the corner of the lane they overtook Phyllis andAdeline on their way to the school with some work, and Emily stoppedthe carriage, to desire them to send off a letter which she had lefton the chimney-piece in the schoolroom. Then proceeding to Raynham, they made their visits, paid Emily's debts, performed theircommissions, and met the carriage again at the bookseller's shop, atthe end of about two hours. 'Look here, Emily!' exclaimed Jane. 'Read this! can it be Mrs. Aylmer?' 'The truly charitable, ' said Emily, contemptuously. 'Mrs. Aylmer isabove--' 'But read. It says "unbeneficed clergyman and deceased nobleman, "and who can that be but Uncle Rotherwood and Mr. Aylmer. ' 'Well, let us see, ' said Emily, 'those things are always amusing. ' It was an appeal to the 'truly charitable, ' from the friends of thewidow of an unbeneficed clergyman of the diocese, one of whose sonshad, it was said, by the kindness of a deceased nobleman, receivedthe promise of an appointment in India, of which he was unable toavail himself for want of the funds needful for his outfit. Thisappeal was, it added, made without the knowledge of the afflictedlady, but further particulars might be learnt by application to E. F. , No. 5 West Street, Raynham. 'E. F. Is plainly that bustling, little, old Miss Fitchett, who wroteto papa for some subscription, ' said Emily. 'You know she is aregular beggar, always doing these kind of things, but I can neverbelieve that Mrs. Aylmer would consent to appear in this manner. ' 'Ah! but it says without her knowledge, ' said Jane. 'Don't youremember Rotherwood's lamenting that they were forgotten?' 'Yes, it is shocking, ' said Emily; 'the clergyman that married papaand mamma!' 'Ask Mr. Adam what he knows, ' said Jane. Emily accordingly applied to the bookseller, and learnt that Mrs. Aylmer was indeed the person intended. 'Something must be done, 'said she, returning to Jane. 'Our name will be a help. ' 'Speak to Aunt Rotherwood, ' said Jane. 'Or suppose we apply to MissFitchett, we should have time to drive that way. ' 'I am sure I shall not go to Miss Fitchett, ' said Emily, 'she onlylongs for an excuse to visit us. What can you be thinking of? Lendme your pencil, Jenny, if you please. ' And Emily wrote down, 'Miss Mohun, 5 pounds, ' and handed to thebookseller all that she possessed towards paying her just debts toLilias. While she was writing, Jane had turned towards the window, and suddenly exclaiming, 'There is Ben! Oh! that gunpowder!' dartedout of the shop. She had seen the groom on horseback, and the nextmoment she was asking breathlessly, 'Is it Maurice?' 'No, Miss Jane; but Miss Ada is badly burnt, and Master Maurice sentme to fetch Mr. Saunders. ' 'How did it happen?' 'I can't say, Miss; the schoolroom has been on fire, and MasterMaurice said the young ladies had got at the gunpowder. ' Emily had just arrived at the door, looking dreadfully pale, andfollowed by numerous kind offers of salts and glasses of water; butJane, perceiving that at least she had strength to get into thecarriage, refused them all, helped her in, and with instant decision, desired to be driven to the surgeon's. Emily obeyed like a child, and threw herself back in the carriage without a word; Jane trembledlike an aspen leaf; but her higher spirit took the lead, and verysensibly she managed, stopping at Mr. Saunders's door to offer totake him to Beechcroft, and getting a glass of sal-volatile for Emilywhile they were waiting for him. His presence was a great relief, for Emily's natural courtesy made her exert herself, and thus wardedoff much that would have been very distressing. In the meantime we will return to Beechcroft, where Emily's requestrespecting her letter had occasioned some discussion between thelittle girls, as they returned from a walk with Marianne. Phyllisthought that Emily meant them to wafer the letter, since they wereunder strict orders never to touch fire or candle; but Ada arguedthat they were to seal it, and that permission to light a candle wasimplied in the order. At last, Phyllis hoped the matter might besettled by asking Maurice to seal the letter, and meeting him at thefront door, she began, in fortunately, with 'Please, Maurice--' 'I never listen to anything beginning with please, ' said Maurice, whowas in a great hurry, 'only don't touch my powder. ' Away he went, deaf to all his sister's shouts of 'Maurice, Maurice, 'and they went in, Ada not sorry to be unheard, as she was bent on thegrand exploit of lighting a lucifer match, but Phyllis still pleadingfor the wafer. They found the schoolroom strewed with Maurice'spreparations for fireworks, and Emily's letter on the chimney-piece. 'Let us take the letter downstairs, and put on a wafer, ' saidPhyllis. 'Won't you come, Ada?' 'No, the stamps are here, and so are the matches, I can do iteasily. ' 'But Ada, Ada, it would be naughty. Only wait, and I will show yousuch a pretty wafer that I know of in the drawing-room. I will runand fetch it. ' Phyllis went, and Ada stood a few moments in doubt, looking at theletter. The recollection of duty was not strong enough to balancethe temptation, and she took up a match and drew it along thesandpaper. It did not light--a second pull, and the flame appearedmore suddenly than she had expected, while at the same moment thelock of the door turned, and fancying it was Maurice, she started, and dropped the match. Phyllis opened the door, heard a loudexplosion and a scream, saw a bright flash and a cloud of smoke. Shestarted back, but the next moment again opened the door, and ranforward. Hannah rushed in at the same time, and caught up Ada, whohad fallen to the ground. A light in the midst of the smoke madePhyllis turn, and she beheld the papers on the table on fire. Maurice's powder-horn was in the midst, but the flames had not yetreached it, and, mindful of Claude's story, she sprung forward, caught it up, and dashed it through the window; she felt the glow ofthe fire upon her cheek, and stood still as if stunned, till Hannahcarried Ada out of the room, and screamed to her to come away, andcall Joseph. The table was now one sheet of flame, and Phyllis flewto the pantry, where she gave the summons in almost inaudible tones. The servants hurried to the spot, and she was left alone andbewildered; she ran hither and thither in confusion, till she metHannah, eagerly asking for Master Maurice, and saying that thesurgeon must be instantly sent for, as Ada's face and neck were badlyburnt. Phyllis ran down, calling Maurice, and at length met him atthe front door, looking much frightened, and asking for Ada. 'Oh! Maurice, her face and neck are burnt, and badly. She doesscream?' 'Did I not tell you not to meddle with the powder?' said Maurice. 'Indeed, I could not help it, ' said Phyllis. 'Stuff and nonsense! It is very well that you have not killed Ada, and I think that would have made you sorry. ' Phyllis with difficulty mentioned Hannah's desire that a surgeonshould be sent for: Maurice went to look for Ben, and she followedhim. Then he began asking how she had done the mischief. 'I do not know, ' said she, 'I do not much think I did it. ' 'Mind, you can't humbug me. Did you not say that you touched thepowder?' 'Yes, but--' 'No buts, ' said Maurice, making the most of his brief authority. 'Ihate false excuses. What were you doing when it exploded?' 'Coming into the room. ' 'Oh! that accounts for it, ' said Maurice, 'the slightest vibrationcauses an explosion of that sort of rocket, and of course it was yourbouncing into the room! You have had a lesson against rushing aboutthe house. Come, though, cheer up, Phyl, it is a bad business, butit might have been worse; you will know better next time. Don't cry, Phyl, I will explain to you all about the patent rocket. ' 'But do you really think that I blew up Ada?' 'Blew up Ada! caused the powder to ignite. The inflammable matter--' As he spoke he followed Phyllis to the nursery, and there was so muchshocked, that he could no longer lord it over her, but shrinkingback, shut himself up in his room, and bolted the door. Nearly an hour passed away before the arrival of Emily, Jane, and Mr. Saunders. Phyllis ran down, and meeting them at the door, exclaimed, 'Oh! Emily, poor Ada! I am so sorry. ' The sisters hurried past her to the nursery, where Ada was lying onthe bed, half undressed, and her face, neck, and arm such a spectaclethat Emily turned away, ready to faint. Mr. Saunders was summoned, and Phyllis thrust out of the room. She sat down on the step of thestairs, resting her forehead on her knees, and trembling, listened tothe sounds of voices, and the screams which now and then reached herears. After a time she was startled by hearing herself called fromthe stairs BY BELOW a voice which she had not heard for many weeks, and springing up, saw Mr. Devereux leaning on the banisters. Thegreat change in his appearance frightened her almost as much as theaccident itself, and she stood looking at him without speaking. 'Phyllis, ' said he, in a voice hoarse with agitation, 'what is it?tell me at once. ' She could not speak, and her wild and frightened air might well givehim great alarm. She pointed to the nursery, and put her finger toher lips, and he, beckoning to her to follow him, went downstairs, and turning into the drawing-room, said, as he sank down upon thesofa, 'Now, Phyllis, what has happened?' 'The gunpowder--I made it go off, and it has burnt poor Ada's face!Mr. Saunders is there, and she screams--' Phyllis finding herself ready to roar, left off speaking, and layingher head on the table, burst into an agony of crying, while Mr. Devereux was too much exhausted to address her; at last sheexclaimed: 'I hear the nursery door; he is going!' She flew to the door, and listened, and then called out, 'Emily, Jane, here is Cousin Robert!' Jane came down, leaving Emily to finish hearing Mr. Saunders'sdirections. She was even more shocked at her cousin's looks thanPhyllis had been, and though she tried to speak cheerfully, hermanner scarcely agreed with her words. 'It is all well, Robert, I amsorry you have been so frightened. It is but a slight affair, thoughit looks so shocking. There is no danger. But, oh, Robert! youought not to be here. What shall we do for you? you are quiteknocked up. ' 'Oh! no, ' said Mr. Devereux, 'I am only a little out of breath. Aterrible report came to me, and I set off to learn the truth. Ishould like to hear what Mr. Saunders says of her. ' 'I will call him in here before he goes, ' said Jane; 'how tired youare; you have not been out before. ' 'Only to the gate to speak to Rotherwood yesterday, and prevent himfrom coming in, ' said Mr. Devereux, 'but I have great designs forSunday. They come home to-morrow, do not they?' Jane was much relieved by hearing her cousin talk in this manner, andanswered, 'Yes, and a dismal coming home it will be; it is too lateto let them know. ' Mr. Saunders now entered, and gave a very favourable account of thepatient, saying that even the scars would probably disappear in a fewweeks. His gig had come from Raynham, and he offered to set Mr. Devereux down at the parsonage, a proposal which the latter was veryglad to accept. Emily and Jane had leisure, when they were gone, toinquire into the manner of the accident. Phyllis answered thatMaurice said that her banging the door had made the powder go off. Jane then asked where Maurice was, and Phyllis reporting that he wasin his own room, she repaired thither, and knocked twice withoutreceiving an answer. On her call, however, he opened the door; shesaw that he had been in tears, and hastened to tell him Mr. Saunders's opinion. He fastened the door again as soon as she hadentered. 'If I could have thought it!' sighed he. 'Fool that I was, not to lock the door!' 'Then you were not there? Phyllis says that she did it by bangingthe door. Is not that nonsense?' 'Not at all. Did I not read to you in the Year Book of Facts aboutthe patent signal rockets, which explode with the least vibration, even when a carriage goes by? Now, mine was on the same principle. I was making an experiment on the ingredients; I did not expect tosucceed the first time, and so I took no precautions. Well!Pyrotechnics are a dangerous science! Next time I study them itshall be at the workshop at the Old Court. ' Maurice was sincerely sorry for the consequence of his disobedience, and would have been much to be pitied had it not been for his secretsatisfaction in the success of his art. He called his sister intothe schoolroom to explain how it happened. The room was a dismalsight, blackened with smoke, and flooded with water, the table andpart of the floor charred, a mass of burnt paper in the midst, and astifling smell of fire. A pane of glass was shattered, and Mauriceran down to the lawn to see if he could find anything there toaccount for it. The next moment he returned, the powder-horn in hishand. 'See, Jenny, how fortunate that this was driven through thewindow with the force of the explosion. The whole place might havebeen blown to atoms with such a quantity as this. ' 'Then what was it that blew up?' asked Jane. 'What I had put out for my rocket, about two ounces. If this half-pound had gone there is no saying what might have happened. ' 'Now, Maurice, ' said Jane, 'I must go back to Ada, and will you rundown to the parsonage with a parcel, directed to Robert, that youwill find in the hall?' This was a device to occupy Maurice, who, as Jane saw, was sorestless and unhappy that she did not like to leave him, much as shewas wanted elsewhere. He went, but afraid to see his cousin, onlyleft the parcel at the door. As he was going back he heard a shout, and looking round saw Lord Rotherwood mounted on Cedric, his mostspirited horse, galloping up the lane. 'Maurice!' cried he, 'what isall this? they say the New Court is blown up, and you and half thegirls killed, but I hope one part is as true as the other. ' 'Nobody is hurt but Ada, ' said Maurice, 'but her face is a good dealburnt. ' 'Eh? then she won't be fit for the 30th, poor child! tell me how itwas, make haste. I heard it from Mr. Burnet as I came down todinner. We have a dozen people at dinner. I told him not to mentionit to my mother, and rode off to hear the truth. Make haste, halfthe people were come when I set off. ' The horse's caperings so discomposed Maurice that he could scarcelycollect his wits enough to answer: 'Some signal rocket on a newprinciple--detonating powder, composed of oxymuriate--Oh!Rotherwood, take care!' 'Speak sense, and go on. ' 'Then Phyllis came in, banged the door, and the vibration caused theexplosion, ' said Maurice, scared into finishing promptly. 'Eh! banging the door? You had better not tell that story atschool. ' 'But, Rotherwood, the deton--Oh! that horse--you will be off!' 'Not half so dangerous as patent rockets. Is Emily satisfied withsuch stuff?' 'Don't you know that fulminating silver--' 'What does Robert Devereux say?' 'Really, Rotherwood, I could show you--' 'Show me? No; if rockets are so perilous I shall have nothing to dowith them. Stand still, Cedric! Just tell me about Ada. Is theremuch harm done?' 'Her face is scorched a good deal, but they say it will soon beright. ' 'I am glad--we will send to inquire to-morrow, but I cannot come--ha, ha! a new infernal machine. Good-bye, Friar Bacon. ' Away he went, and Maurice stood looking after him with complacentdisdain. 'There they go, Cedric and Rotherwood, equally wellprovided with brains! What is the use of talking science to either?' It was late when he reached the house, and his two sisters shortlycame down to tea, with news that Adeline was asleep and Phyllis wasgoing to bed. The accident was again talked over. 'Well, ' said Emily, 'I do not understand it, but I suppose papawill. ' 'The telling papa is a bad part of the affair, with William andEleanor there too, ' said Jane. 'I do not mean to speak to Phyllis about it again, ' said Emily, 'itmakes her cry so terribly. ' 'It will come out fast enough, ' sighed Maurice. 'Good-night. ' More than once in the course of the night did poor Phyllis wake andcry, and the next day was the most wretched she had ever spent; shewas not allowed to stay in the nursery, and the schoolroom wasuninhabitable, so she wandered listlessly about the garden, sometimescreeping down to the churchyard, where she looked up at the oldtower, or pondered over the graves, and sometimes forgetting hertroubles in converse with the dogs, in counting the rings in theinside of a foxglove flower, or in rescuing tadpoles stranded on thebroad leaf of a water-lily. Her sisters and brothers were not less forlorn. Emily sighed andlamented; Adeline was feverish and petulant; and Jane toiled in vainto please and soothe both, and to comfort Maurice; but with all hergood-temper and good-nature she had not the spirit which alone couldenable her to be a comfort to any one. Ada whined, fretted, and wasdisobedient, and from Maurice she met with nothing but rebuffs; hewas silent and sullen, and spent most of the day in the workshop, slowly planing scraps of deal board, and watching with a careless eyethe curled shavings float to the ground. In the course of the afternoon Alethea and Marianne came to inquireafter the patient. Jane came down to them and talked very fast, butwhen they asked for a further explanation of the cause of theaccident, Jane declared that Maurice said it was impossible that anyone who did not understand chemistry should know how it happened, andAlethea went away strongly reminded that it was no affair of hers. Notes passed between the New Court and the vicarage, but Mr. Devereuxwas feeling the effect of his yesterday's exertion too much to repeatit, and no persuasion of the sisters could induce Maurice to visithim. CHAPTER XXII: THE BARONIAL COURT 'Still in his eyes his soul revealing, He dreams not, knows not of concealing, Does all he does with single mind, And thinks of others that are kind. ' The travellers were expected to arrive at about seven o'clock in theevening, and in accordance with a well-known taste of Eleanor's, Emily had ordered no dinner, but a substantial meal under the name oftea. When the sound of carriage wheels was heard, Jane was withAdeline, Maurice was in his retreat at the Old Court, and it was withno cheerful alacrity that Emily went alone into the hall. Phylliswas already at the front door, and the instant Mr. Mohun set foot onthe threshold, her hand grasped his coat, and her shrill voice criedin his ear, 'Papa, I am very sorry I blew up the gunpowder and burntAda. ' 'What, my dear? where is Ada?' 'In bed. I blew up the gunpowder and burnt her face, ' repeatedPhyllis. 'We have had an accident, ' said Emily, 'but I hope it is nothing veryserious, only poor Ada is a sad figure. ' In another moment Mr. Mohun and Eleanor were on the way to thenursery; Lilias was following, but she recollected that a generalrush into a sickroom was not desirable, and therefore paused and cameback to the hall. The worst was over with Phyllis when theconfession had been made. She was in raptures at the sight of thebaby, and was presently showing the nurse the way upstairs, but herbrother William called her back: 'Phyllis, you have not spoken toany one. ' Phyllis turned, and came down slowly in her most ungainly manner, believing herself in too great disgrace to be noticed by anybody, andshe was quite surprised and comforted to be greeted by her brothersand Lily just as usual. 'And how did you meet with this misfortune?' asked Mr. Hawkesworth. 'I banged the door, and made it go off, ' said Phyllis. 'What can you mean?' said William, in a tone of surprise, whichPhyllis took for anger, and she hid her face to stifle her sobs. 'No, no, do not frighten her, ' said Claude's kind voice. 'Run and make friends with your nephew, Phyllis, ' said Mr. Hawkesworth; 'do not greet us with crying. ' 'First tell me what is become of Maurice, ' said Claude, 'is he blownup too?' 'No, he is at the Old Court, ' said Phyllis. 'Shall I tell him thatyou are come?' 'I will look for him, ' said Claude, and out he went. The others dispersed in different directions, and did not assembleagain for nearly half an hour, when they all met in the drawing-roomto drink tea; Claude and Maurice were the last to appear, and, onentering, the first thing the former said was, 'Where is Phyllis?' 'In the nursery, ' said Jane; 'she has had her supper, and chooses tostay with Ada. ' 'Has any one found out the history of the accident?' said William. 'I have vainly been trying to make sense of Maurice's account, ' saidClaude. 'Sense!' said William, 'there is none. ' 'I am perfectly bewildered, ' said Lily; 'every one has a differentstory, only consenting in making Phyllis the victim. ' 'And, ' added Claude, 'I strongly suspect she is not in fault. ' 'Why should you doubt what she says herself?' said Eleanor. 'What does she say herself?' said William, 'nothing but that she shutthe door, and what does that amount to?--Nothing. ' 'She says she touched the powder, ' interposed Jane. 'That is another matter, ' said William; 'no one told me of hertouching the powder. But why do you not ask her? She is publiclycondemned without a hearing. ' 'Who accuses her?' said Mr. Mohun. 'I can hardly tell, ' said Emily; 'she met us, saying she was verysorry. Yes, she accuses herself. Every one has believed it to beher. ' 'And why?' There was a pause, but at last Emily said, 'How would you account forit otherwise?' 'I have not yet heard the circumstances. Maurice, I wish to hearyour account. I will not now ask how you procured the powder. Whoever was the immediate cause of the accident, you are chiefly toblame. Where was the powder?' Maurice gave his theory and his facts, ending with the powder-hornbeing driven out of the window upon the green. 'I hear, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'But, Maurice, did you not say thatPhyllis touched the powder? How do you reconcile that with thisincomprehensible statement?' 'She might have done that before, ' said Maurice. 'Now call Phyllis, ' said his father. 'Is it not very formidable for her to be examined before such anassembly?' said Emily. 'The accusation has been public, and the investigation shall be thesame, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'Then you do not think she did it, papa?' cried Lily. 'Not by shutting the door, ' said William. Phyllis entered, and Mr. Mohun, holding out both hands to her, drewher towards him, and placing her with her back to the others, stillretained her hands, while he said, 'Phyllis, do not be frightened, but tell me where you were when the powder exploded?' 'Coming into the room, ' said Phyllis, in a trembling voice. 'Where had you been?' 'Fetching a wafer out of the drawing-room. ' 'What was the wafer for?' 'To put on Emily's letter, which she told us to send. ' 'And where was Ada?' 'In the schoolroom, reading the direction of the letter. ' 'Tell me exactly what happened when you came back. ' 'I opened the door, and there was a flash, and a bang, and a smoke, and Ada tumbled down. ' 'I have one more question to ask. When did you touch the powder?' 'Then, ' said Phyllis. 'When it had exploded? Take care what you say. ' 'Was it naughty? I am very sorry, ' said Phyllis, beginning to cry. 'What powder did you touch? I do not understand you, tell mequietly. ' 'I touched the powder-horn. What went off was only a little in apaper on the table, and there was a great deal more. When the rocketblew up there was a great noise, and Ada and I both screamed, andHannah ran in and took up Ada in her arms. Then I saw a great fire, and looked, and saw Emily's music-book, and all the papers blazing. So I thought if it got to the powder it would blow up again, and Ilaid hold of the horn and threw it out of the window. That is all Iknow, papa, only I hope you are not very angry with me. ' She looked into his face, not knowing how to interpret the unusualexpression she saw there. 'Angry with you!' said he. 'No, my dear child, you have acted withgreat presence of mind. You have saved your sister and Hannah fromgreat danger, and I am very sorry that you have been unjustlytreated. ' He then gave his little daughter a kiss, and putting his hand on herhead, added, 'Whoever caused the explosion, Phyllis is quite freefrom blame, and I wish every one to understand this, because she hasbeen unjustly accused, without examination, and because she has borneit patiently, and without attempting to justify herself. ' 'Very right, ' observed Eleanor. 'Shake hands, Phyllis, ' said William. The others said more with their eyes than with their lips. Phyllisstood like one in a dream, and fixing her bewildered looks uponClaude, said, 'Did not I do it?' 'No, Phyllis, you had nothing to do with it, ' was the generalexclamation. 'Maurice said it was the door, ' said Phyllis. 'Maurice talked nonsense, ' said Claude; 'you were only foolish inbelieving him. ' Phyllis went up to Claude, and laid her head on his arm; Mr. Hawkesworth held out his hand to her, but she did not look up, andClaude withdrawing his arm, and raising her head, found that she wascrying. Eleanor and Lilias both rose, and came towards her butClaude made them a sign, and led her away. 'What a fine story this will be for Reginald, ' said William. 'And for Rotherwood, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'I do not see how it happened, ' said Eleanor. 'Of course Ada did it herself, ' said William. 'Of course, ' said Maurice. 'It was all from Emily's setting them toseal her letter, that is plain now. ' 'Would not Ada have said so?' asked Eleanor. Lily sighed at the thought of what Eleanor had yet to learn. 'Did you tell them to seal your letter, Emily?' said Mr. Mohun. 'I am sorry to say that I did tell them to send it, ' said Emily, 'butI said nothing about sealing, as Jane remembers, and I forgot thatMaurice's gunpowder was in the room. ' Eleanor shook her head sorrowfully, and looked down at her knitting, and Lily knew that her mind was made up respecting little Henry'sdwelling-place. It was some comfort to have raised no false expectations. 'Ada must not be frightened and agitated to-night, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'but I hope you will talk to her to-morrow, Eleanor. Well, Claude, have you made Phyllis understand that she is acquitted?' 'Scarcely, ' said Claude; 'she is so overcome and worn out, that Ithought she had better go to bed, and wake in her proper senses to-morrow. ' 'A very unconscious heroine, ' said William. 'She is a wonder--Inever thought her anything but an honest sort of romp. ' 'I have long thought her a wonderful specimen of obedience, ' said Mr. Mohun. William and Claude now walked to the parsonage, and the council brokeup; but it must not be supposed that this was the last that Emily andMaurice heard on the subject. CHAPTER XXIII: JOYS AND SORROWS 'Complaint was heard on every partOf something disarranged. ' The next day, Sunday, was one of the most marked in Lily's life. Itwas the first time she saw Mr. Devereux after his illness, and thoughClaude had told her he was going to church, it gave her a suddenthrill of joy to see him there once more, and perhaps she never feltmore thankful than when his name was read before the Thanksgiving. After the service there was an exchange of greetings, but Lily spokeno word, she felt too happy and too awe-struck to say anything, andshe walked back to the New Court in silence. In the afternoon she had hopes that a blessing would be granted toher, for which at one time she had scarcely dared to hope; and shefelt convinced that so it would be when she saw that Mr. Devereuxwore his surplice, although, as in the morning, his friend read theservice. After the Second Lesson there was a pause, and then Mr. Devereux left the chair by the altar, walked along the aisle, andtook his stand on the step of the font. Lily's heart beat high asshe saw who were gathering round him--Mrs. Eden, Andrew Grey, JamesHarrington, and Mrs. Naylor, who held in her arms a healthy, rosy-checked boy of a year old. She could not have described the feelings which made her eyesoverflow with tears, as she saw Mr. Devereux's thin hand sprinkle thedrops over the brow of the child, and heard him say, 'Robert, Ibaptize thee'--words which she had heard in dreams, and then awakenedto remember that the parish was at enmity with the pastor, the childunbaptized, and herself, in part, the cause. The name of the little boy was an additional pledge ofreconciliation, and at the same time it made her feel again what hadbeen the price of his baptism. When she looked back upon the drearyfeelings which she had so lately experienced, it seemed to her as ifshe might believe that this christening was, as it were, a pledge ofpardon, and an earnest of better things. Naylor, who had recovered much more slowly than Mr. Devereux, was atchurch for the first time, and after the service Mr. Mohun sought himout in the churchyard, and heartily shook hands with him. Lily wouldgladly have followed his example, but she only stood by Eleanor andMrs. Weston, who were speaking to Mrs. Eden and Mrs. Naylor, admiringthe little boy, and praising him for his good behaviour in church. Love of babies was a strong bond between Mrs. Weston and Mrs. Hawkesworth, who seemed to become well acquainted from the firstmoment that little Henry was mentioned; and Lily was well pleased tosee that in Jane's phrase Eleanor 'took to her friends so well. ' And yet this day brought with it some annoyances, which once wouldhave fretted her so much as to interfere even with such joy as shenow felt. The song, with which she had taken so much pains, ought tohave been sent home a week before, but owing to the delay caused byEmily's carelessness, it had been burnt in the fire in theschoolroom, and Lily could not feel herself forgiven till she hadtalked the disaster over in private with her friend, and this was outof her power throughout the day, for something always prevented herfrom getting Alethea alone. In the morning Jane stuck close to her, and in the afternoon William walked to the school gate with them. But Alethea's manner was kinder towards her than ever, and she wasquite satisfied about her. It gave her more pain to perceive that Emily in every possible manneravoided being alone with her. It was by her desire that Phyllis cameto sleep in their room; she would keep Jane talking there, giveEsther some employment which kept her in their presence, linger inthe drawing-room while Lilias was dressing, and at bedtime be toosleepy to say anything but good-night. That Sunday was a sorrowful one to Eleanor; for in the course of theconversation with Ada, which Mr. Mohun had desired her to hold, shebecame conscious of the little girl's double-dealing ways. It wasonly by a very close cross-examination that she was able to extractfrom her a true account of the disaster, and though Ada never went sofar as actually to tell a falsehood, it was evident that she waswilling to conceal as much as possible, and to throw the blame onother people. And when the real facts were confessed she did notseem able to comprehend why she was regarded with displeasure; herinstinct of truth and obedience was lost for the time, and Eleanorsaw it with the utmost pain. Adeline had been her especial darling, and cold as her manner had often been towards the others, it ever waswarm towards the motherless little one, whom she had tended andcherished with most anxious care from her earliest infancy. She hadleft her gentle, candid, and affectionate; a loving, engaging, littlecreature, and how did she find her now? Her fair bright facedisfigured, her caresses affected, her mind turned to deceit andprevarication! Well might Eleanor feel it more than ever painful toleave her own little Henry to the care of others; and well it was forher that she had learned to find comfort in the consciousness thather duty was clear. The next morning Emily learned what was Henry's destination. 'Oh! Eleanor, ' said she, 'why do you not leave him here? We shouldbe so rejoiced to have him. ' 'Thank you, I am afraid it is out of the question, ' answered Eleanor, quietly. 'Why, dear Eleanor? You know how glad we should be. I should havethought, ' proceeded Emily, a little hurt, 'that you would have wishedhim to live in your own home. ' Eleanor did not speak, and Emily, who had the little boy in her arms, went on talking to him: 'Come, baby, let us persuade mamma to letyou stay with Aunt Emily. Ask papa, Henry, won't you? Seriously, Eleanor, has Frank considered how much better it would be to have himin the country?' 'He has, Emily; he once wished much to leave him here. ' 'I am sure grandpapa would like it, ' said Emily. 'Do you observe, Eleanor, how fond he is of baby, always calling him Harry too, as ifhe liked the sound of the name?' 'It has all been talked over, Emily, and it cannot be. ' 'With papa?' asked Emily in surprise. 'No, with Lily. ' 'With Lily!' exclaimed Emily. 'Did not Aunt Lily wish to keep you, Harry? I thought she was very fond of you. ' 'You had better inquire no further, ' said Eleanor, 'except of yourown conscience. ' 'Did Lily think us unfit to take care of him?' asked Emily, insurprise. As she spoke Lily herself came in, the key of the storeroom in herhand, and looks of consternation on her face. She came to announce aterrible deficiency in the preserved quinces, which she herself hadcarefully put aside on a shelf in the storeroom, and which Emily saidshe had not touched in her absence. 'Let me see, ' said Eleanor, rising, and setting off to the storeroom;Emily and Lily followed, with a sad suspicion of the truth. On theway they looked into the nursery, to give little Henry to his nurse, and to ask Jane, who was sitting with Ada, what she remembered aboutit. Jane knew nothing, and they went on to the storeroom, whereEleanor, quite in her element, began rummaging, arranging, andsighing over the confusion, while Lily lent a helping hand, and Emilystood by, wishing that her sister would not trouble herself. Presently Jane came running up with a saucer in her hand, containinga quarter of a quince and some syrup, which she said she had found inthe nursery cupboard, in searching for a puzzle which Ada wanted. 'And, ' said Jane, 'I should guess that Miss Ada herself knewsomething about it, for when I could not find the puzzle in theright-hand cupboard, she was so very unwilling that I should lookinto that one; she said there was nothing there but the boys' oldplaythings and Esther's clothes. And I do not know whether you sawhow she fidgeted when you were talking about the quinces, before youwent up. ' 'It is much too plain, ' sighed Lily. 'Oh! Rachel, why did we notlisten to you?' 'Do you suppose, ' said Eleanor, 'that Ada has been in the habit oftaking the key and helping herself?' 'No, ' said Emily, 'but that Esther has helped her. ' 'Ah!' said Eleanor, 'I never thought it wise to take her, but howcould she get the key? You do not mean that you trusted it out ofyour own keeping. ' 'It began while we were ill, ' faltered Emily, 'and afterwards it wasdifficult to bring matters into their former order. ' 'But oh, Eleanor, what is to be done?' sighed Lily. 'Speak to papa, of course, ' said Eleanor. 'He is gone to the castle, and in the meantime we had better take an exact account of everythinghere. ' 'And Esther? And Ada?' inquired the sisters. 'I think it will be better to speak to him before making so grave anaccusation, ' said Eleanor. They now commenced that wearisome occupation--a complete setting-to-rights; Eleanor counted, weighed, and measured, and extended hercares from the stores to every other household matter. Emily madeher escape, and went to sit with Ada; but Lily and Jane toiled forseveral hours with Eleanor, till Lily was so heated and wearied thatshe was obliged to give up a walk to Broomhill, and spend another daywithout a talk with Alethea. However, she was so patient, ready, andgood-humoured, that Eleanor was well pleased with her. She couldhardly think of the slight vexation, when her mind was full of sorrowand shame on Esther's account. It was she who, contrary to theadvice of her elders, had insisted on bringing her into the house;she had allowed temptation to be set in her way, and had not takensufficient pains to strengthen her principles; and how could she dootherwise than feel guilty of all Esther's faults, and of those intowhich she had led Adeline? On Mr. Mohun's return Ada was interrogated. She pitied herself--saidshe did not think papa would be angry--prevaricated--and tried tocoax away his inquiries, but all in vain; and at length, by slowdegrees, the confession was drawn from her that she had been used toasking Esther for morsels of sweet things when she was sent to thestoreroom; that afterwards she had seen her packing up some tea andsugar to take to her mother, and that Esther on that occasion, andseveral others, purchased her silence by giving her a share ofpilfered sweetmeats. Telling her that he only spared her a verysevere punishment for the present, on account of her illness, Mr. Mohun left her, and on his way downstairs met Phyllis. 'Phyl, ' said he, 'did Esther ever give you sweet things out of thestoreroom?' 'Once, papa, when she had been putting out some currant jam, sheoffered me what had been left in the spoon. ' 'Did you take it?' 'No, papa, for Eleanor used to say it was a bad trick to lick outspoons. ' 'Did you ever know that she took tea and sugar from the storeroom, for her mother?' 'Took home tea and sugar to her mother! She could not have done it, papa. It would be stealing!' Esther, who was next called for, cried a great deal, and begged forpardon, pleading again and again that - 'It was mother, ' an answer which made her young mistresses again sighover the remembrance of Rachel's disregarded advice. Her fate wasleft for consideration and consultation with Mr. Devereux, for Mr. Mohun, seeing himself to blame for having allowed her to be placed ina situation of so much trial, and thinking that there was much thatwas good about her, did not like to send her to her home, where shewas likely to learn nothing but what was bad. CHAPTER XXIV: LOVE'S LABOUR LOST 'And well, with ready hand and heart, Each task of toilsome duty taking, Did one dear inmate take her part, The last asleep, the earliest waking. ' In the course of the afternoon Lord Rotherwood and Florence called, to see Eleanor, inquire after Ada, and make the final arrangementsfor going to a morning concert at Raynham the next day. LadyRotherwood was afraid of the fatigue, and Florence therefore wishedto accompany her cousins, who, as Eleanor meant to stay at home, wereto be under Mrs. Weston's protection. Lady Florence and her brother, therefore, agreed to ride home by Broomhill, and mention the plan toMrs. Weston, and took their leave, appointing Adam's shop as theplace of rendezvous. Next morning Emily, Lilias, and Jane happened to be together in thedrawing-room, when Mr. Mohun and Claude came in, the former saying toLily, 'Here is the mason's account for the gravestone which youwished to have put up to Agnes Eden; it comes to two pounds. Youundertook half the expense, and as Claude is going to Raynham, hewill pay for it if you will give him your sovereign. ' 'I will, ' said Lily, 'but first I must ask Emily to pay me for theLondon commissions. ' Emily repented not having had a private conference with Lily. 'So you have not settled your accounts, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'I hopeLily has not ruined you, Emily. ' 'I thought her a mirror of prudence, ' said Claude. 'Well, Emily, is the sovereign forthcoming? I am going directly, forFrank has something to do at Raynham, and William is going to try hisgray in the phaeton. ' 'I am afraid you will think me very silly, ' said Emily, after somedeliberation, 'but I hope Lily will not be very angry when I confessthat seven shillings is the sum total of my property. ' 'Oh, Emily, ' cried Lily, in dismay, 'what has become of your fivepounds?' 'I gave them as a subscription for a clergyman's widow in distress, 'said Emily; 'it was the impulse of a moment, I could not help it, and, dear Lily, I hope it will not inconvenience you. ' 'If papa will be kind enough to wait for this pound till Michaelmas, 'said Lily. 'I would wait willingly, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'but I will not see youcheated. How much does she owe you?' 'The commissions came to six pounds three, ' said Lily, looking down. 'But, Lily, ' said Jane, 'you forget the old debt. ' 'Never mind, ' whispered Lily; but Mr. Mohun asked what Jane had said, and Claude repeated her speech, upon which he inquired, 'What olddebt?' 'Papa, ' said Emily, in her most candid tone, 'I do not know what Ishould have done but for Lily's kindness. Really, I cannot get onwith my present allowance; being the eldest, so many expenses comeupon me. ' 'Then am I to understand, ' replied Mr. Mohun, 'that your foolishvanity has led you to encroach on your sister's kindness, and toborrow of her what you had no reasonable hope of repaying? Again, Lily, what does she owe you?' Emily felt the difference between the sharp, curious eyes with whichJane regarded her, and the sorrowful downcast looks of Lily, whoreplied, 'The old debt is four pounds, but that does not signify. ' 'Well, ' resumed her father, 'I cannot blame you for your good-nature, though an older person might have acted otherwise. You must havemanaged wonderfully well, to look always so well dressed with onlyhalf your proper income. Here is the amount of the debt. Is itright? And, Lily, one thing more; I wish to thank you for what youhave done towards keeping this house in order. You have worked hard, and endured much, and from all I can gather, you have prevented muchmischief. Much has unfairly been thrown upon you, and you have welland steadily done your duty. For you, Emily, I have more to say toyou, but I shall not enter on it at present, for it is late. You hadbetter get ready, or you will keep the others waiting. ' 'I do not think I can go, ' sighed Emily. 'You are wanted, ' said Mr. Mohun. 'I do not think your aunt wouldlike Florence to go without you. ' Lily had trembled as much under her father's praise as Emily underhis blame. She did not feel as if his commendation was merited, andlonged to tell him of her faults and follies, but this was no fittime, and she hastened to prepare for her expedition, her spiritsscarcely in time for a party of pleasure. Jane talked about the30th, and asked questions about London, all the way to Raynham, andboth Emily and Lily were glad to join in her chatter, in hopes ofrelieving their own embarrassment. On arriving at the place of meeting they found Lady Florence watchingfor them. 'I am glad you are come, ' said she, 'Rotherwood will always set outeither too soon or too late, and this time it was too soon, so herewe have been full a quarter of an hour, but he does not care. Therehe is, quite engrossed with his book. ' Lord Rotherwood was standing by the counter, reading so intently thathe did not see his cousins' arrival. When they entered he justlooked up, shook hands, asked after Ada, and went on reading. Lilybegan looking for some books for the school, which she had longwished for, and was now able to purchase; Emily sat down in amelancholy, abstracted mood, and Florence and Jane stood togethertalking. 'You know you are all to come early, ' said the former, 'I do not knowhow we should manage without you. Rotherwood insists on havingeverything the same day--poor people first, and gentry and farmersaltogether. Mamma does not like it, and I expect we shall bedreadfully tired; but he says he will not have the honest poor menput out for the fashionables; and you know we are all to dance witheverybody. But Jenny, who is this crossing the street? Look, youhave an eye for oddities. ' 'Miss Fitchett, the subscription-hunter, ' said Jane. 'She is actually coming to hunt us. I believe I have my purse. Oh!Emily is to be the first victim. ' Miss Fitchett advanced to Emily, and saying that she believed she hadthe honour to address Miss Mohun, began to tell her that her friendhaving been prematurely informed of her small efforts, had with anoble spirit of independence begged that the subscription might notbe continued, and that what had already been given might be returned, and she rejoiced in this opportunity of making the explanation. ButMiss Fitchett could not bear to relinquish the five-pound note, andadded, that perhaps Miss Mohun might not object to apply hersubscription to some other object, the Dorcas Society for instance. 'Thank you, I have no interest in the Dorcas Society, ' said Emily; areply which brought upon her a full account of all its aims andobjects; and as still her polite looks spoke nothing of assent, MissFitchett went on with a string of other societies, speaking thelouder and the more eagerly in the hope of attracting the attentionof the young marquis and his sister. Emily was easily overwhelmedwith words, and not thinking it lady-like to claim her money, yetfeeling that none of these societies were fit objects for it, shestood confused and irresolute, unwilling either to consent or refuse. Jane, perceiving her difficulty, turned to Lord Rotherwood, androusing him from his book, explained Emily's distress in a few words, and sent him to her rescue. He stepped forward just as MissFitchett, taking silence for consent, was proceeding to thank Emily;'I think you misunderstand Miss Mohun, ' said he. 'Since hersubscription is not needed by the person for whom it was intended, she would be glad to have it restored. She does not wish toencourage any unauthorised societies. ' Boy as he was, in appearance still more than in age, there was adignity in his manner which, together with the principle on which hespoke, overawed Miss Fitchett even more than his rank. She onlysaid, 'Oh! my lord, I beg your pardon. Certainly, only--' The note was placed in Emily's hands, and with a bow from LordRotherwood, she retreated, murmuring to herself the remonstrancewhich she had not courage to bestow upon the Marquis. 'Thank you, thank you, Rotherwood, ' said Emily; 'you have done me agreat service. ' 'Well done, Rotherwood, ' said Florence; 'you have given the old ladysomething to reflect upon. ' 'Made a public announcement of principle, ' said Lily. 'I was determined to give her a reason, ' said the Marquis, laughing, 'but I assure you I felt like the stork with its head in the wolf'smouth, I thought she would give me a screed of doctrine. How cameyou to let your property get unto her clutches, Emily?' 'It was a subscription for Mrs. Aylmer, ' said Emily. 'Our curate's wife!' cried he with a start; 'how was it? Florence, did you know anything? I thought she was in London. Why were we inthe dark? Tell me all. ' 'All I know is that she is living somewhere in Raynham, and last weekthere was a paper here to say that she was in want of the means offitting out her son for India. ' 'Yes, yes, Johnny, I know my father did get a promise for him--well!' 'That is all I know, except that she does not choose to be a beggar. ' 'Poor Mrs. Aylmer! shameful neglect! she shall not be ill-used anylonger, I will find her out this instant. Don't wait for me. ' And after a few words to Mr. Adams, off he went, walking as fast ashe could, and leaving the young ladies not without fear of anotherinvasion. Soon, however, the brothers came in, and presently afterMrs. Weston appeared. It was agreed that Lord Rotherwood should beleft to his own devices, and they set out for the concert-room. PoorFlorence lost much pleasure in disappointment at his non-appearance, but when the concert was over they found him sitting in the carriage, reading. As soon as they appeared he sprang out, and came to meetthem, pouring rapidly out a history of his adventures. 'Then you have found them, and what can be done for them?' 'Everything ought to be done, but Mrs. Aylmer has a spirit ofindependence. That foolish woman's advertisement was unknown to hertill Emily's five pounds came in, so fine a nest-egg that she couldnot help cackling, whereupon Mrs. Aylmer insisted on having everyfarthing returned. ' 'Can she provide the boy's outfit?' 'She says so, or rather that her daughter can, but I shall see aboutthat. It is worth while to be of age. Imagine! That bank whichfailed was the end of my father's legacy. They must have lived on afraction of nothing! Edward went to sea. Miss Aylmer went out as agoverness. Now she is at home. ' 'Miss Aylmer!' exclaimed Miss Weston, 'I know she was a clergyman'sdaughter. Do you know the name of the family she lived with?' 'Was it Grant?' said William. 'I remember hearing of her going tosome Grants. ' 'It was, ' said Alethea; 'she must be the same. Is she at home?' 'Yes, ' said Lord Rotherwood, 'and you may soon see her, for I mean tohave them all to stay at the castle as soon as our present visitorsare gone. My mother and Florence shall call upon them on Friday. ' 'Now, ' said Claude, 'I have not found out what brought them back toRaynham. ' 'Have you lived at Beechcroft all your life, and never discoveredthat there is a grammar-school at Raynham, with special privilegesfor the sons of clergymen of the diocese?' A few more words, and the cousins parted; Emily by no means sorrythat she had been obliged to go to Raynham. She tendered the five-pound note to her father, but he desired her to wait till Friday, andthen to bring him a full account of her expenditure of the year. Herirregular ways made this almost impossible, especially as in thepresent state of affairs she wished to avoid a private conferencewith either Lily or Jane. She was glad that an invitation to dineand sleep at the castle on Wednesday would save her from the peril ofhaving to talk to Lily in the evening. Reginald came home onTuesday, to the great joy of all the party, and especially to that ofPhyllis. This little maiden was more puzzled by the events that hadtaken place than conscious of the feeling which she had once thoughtmust be so delightful. She could scarcely help perceiving that everyone was much more kind to her than usual, especially Claude and Lily, and Lord Rotherwood said things which she could not at allunderstand. Her observation to Reginald was, 'Was it not lucky I hada cough on Twelfth Day, or Claude would not have told me what to doabout gunpowder?' Reginald troubled Phyllis much by declaring that nothing shouldinduce him to kiss his nephew, and she was terribly shocked by theindifference with which Eleanor treated his neglect, even when itbranched out into abuse of babies in general, and in particular ofHenry's bald head and turned-up nose. In the evening of Wednesday Phyllis was sitting with Ada in thenursery, when Reginald came up with the news that the partydownstairs were going to practise country dances. Eleanor was toplay, Claude was to dance with Lily, and Frank with Jane, and hehimself wanted Phyllis for a partner. 'Oh!' sighed Ada, 'I wish I was there to dance with you, Redgie!What are the others doing?' 'Maurice is reading, and William went out as soon as dinner was over;make haste, Phyl. ' 'Don't go, ' said Ada, 'I shall be alone all to-morrow, and I wantyou. ' 'Nonsense, ' said Reginald, 'do you think she is to sit poking hereall day, playing with those foolish London things of yours?' 'But I am ill, Redgie. I wish you would not be cross. Everybody iscross to me now, I think. ' 'I will stay, Ada, ' said Phyllis. 'You know, Redgie, I dance like acow. ' 'You dance better than nothing, ' said Reginald, 'I must have you. ' 'But you are not ill, Redgie, ' said Phyllis. He went down in displeasure, and was forced to consider Sir Maurice'spicture as his partner, until presently the door opened, and Phyllisappeared. 'So you have thought better of it, ' cried he. 'No, ' said Phyllis, 'I cannot come to dance, but Ada wants you toleave off playing. She says the music makes her unhappy, for itmakes her think about to-morrow. ' 'Rather selfish, Miss Ada, ' said Claude. 'Stay here, Phyllis, now you are come, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'I will goand speak to Ada. ' Phyllis was now captured, and made to take her place opposite toReginald; but more than once she sighed under the apprehension thatAda was receiving a lecture. This was the case; and very little didpoor Ada comprehend the change that had taken place in the conduct ofalmost every one towards her; she did not perceive that she wasparticularly naughty, and yet she had suddenly become an object ofblame, instead of a spoiled pet. Formerly her little slynesses hadbeen unnoticed, and her overbearing ways towards Phyllis scarcelyremarked, but now they were continually mentioned as grievous faults. Esther, her especial friend and comforter, was scarcely allowed tocome into the same room with her; Hannah treated her with a kind ofgrave, silent respect, far from the familiarity which she liked;little Henry's nurse never would talk to her, and if it had not beenfor Phyllis, she would have been very miserable. On Phyllis, however, she repaid herself for all the mortifications that shereceived, while the sweet-tempered little girl took all herfretfulness and exactions as results of her illness, and went onpitying her, and striving to please her. When Phyllis came up to wish her good-night, she was received with anexclamation at her lateness in a peevish tone: 'Yes, I am late, 'said Phyllis, merrily, 'but we had not done dancing till tea-time, and then Eleanor was so kind as to say I might sit up to have sometea with them. ' 'Ah! and you quite forgot how tiresome it is up here, with nobody tospeak to, ' said Ada. 'How cross they were not to stop the music whenI said it made me miserable!' 'Claude said it was selfish to want to stop five people's pleasurefor one, ' said Phyllis. 'But I am so ill, ' said Ada. 'If Claude was as uncomfortable as Iam, he would know how to be sorry for me. And only think--Phyl, whatare you doing? Do not you know I do not like the moonlight to comeon me. It is like a great face laughing at me. ' 'Well, I like the moon so much!' said Phyllis, creeping behind thecurtain to look out, 'there is something so white and bright in it;when it comes on the bed-clothes, it makes me go to sleep, thinkingabout white robes, oh! and all sorts of nice things. ' 'I can't bear the moon, ' said Ada; 'do not you know, Maurice saysthat the moon makes the people go mad, and that is the reason it iscalled lunacy, after la lune?' 'I asked Miss Weston about that, ' said Phyllis, 'because of thePsalm, and she said it was because it was dangerous to go to sleep inthe open air in hot countries. Ada, I wish you could see now. Thereis the great round moon in the middle of the sky, and the sky such abeautiful colour, and a few such great bright stars, and the trees sodark, and the white lilies standing up on the black pond, and thelawn all white with dew! what a fine day it will be to-morrow!' 'A fine day for you!' said Ada, 'but only think of poor me all aloneby myself. ' 'You will have baby, ' said Phyllis. 'Baby--if he could talk it would be all very well. It is just likethe cross people in books. Here I shall lie and cry all the time, while you are dancing about as merry as can be. ' 'No, no, Ada, you will not do that, ' said Phyllis, with tears in hereyes. 'There is baby with all his pretty ways, and you may teach himto say Aunt Ada, and I will bring you in numbers of flowers, andthere is your new doll, and all the pretty things that came fromLondon, and the new book of Fairy Tales, and all sorts--oh! no, donot cry, Ada. ' 'But I shall, for I shall think of you dancing, and not caring forme. ' 'I do care, Ada--why do you say that I do not? I cannot bear it, Ada, dear Ada. ' 'You don't, or you would not go and leave me alone. ' 'Then, Ada, I will not go, ' said Phyllis; 'I could not bear to leaveyou crying here all alone. ' 'Thank you, dear good Phyl, but I think you will not have much loss. You know you do not like dancing, and you cannot do it well, and theywill be sure to laugh at you. ' 'And I daresay Redgie and Marianne will tell us all about it, ' saidPhyllis, sighing. 'I should rather like to have seen it, but theywill tell us. ' 'Then do you promise to stay?--there's a dear, ' said Ada. 'Yes, ' said Phyllis. 'Cousin Robert is coming in, and that will bevery nice, and I hope he will not look as he did the day thegunpowder went off--oh, dear!' She went back to the window to getrid of her tears unperceived. 'Ah, ' cried she, 'there is some one inthe garden!' 'A man!' screamed Ada--'a thief, a robber--call somebody!' 'No, no, ' said Phyllis, laughing, 'it is only William; he has beenout all the evening, and now papa has come out to speak to him, andthey are walking up and down together. I wonder whether he has beensitting with Cousin Robert or at Broomhill! Well, good-night, Ada. Here comes Hannah. ' CHAPTER XXV: THE THIRTIETH OF JULY 'The heir, with roses in his shoes, That night might village partner choose. ' The 30th of July was bright and clear, and Phyllis was up early, gathering flowers, which, with the help of Jane's nimble fingers, shemade into elegant little bouquets for each of her sisters, and forClaude. 'How is this?' said Mr. Hawkesworth, pretending to look disconsolate, 'am I to sing "Fair Phyllida flouts me, " or why is my button-holeleft destitute?' 'Perhaps that is for you on the side-table, ' said Lily. 'Oh! no, ' said Phyllis, 'those are some Provence roses for MissWeston and Marianne, because Miss Weston likes those, and they havenone at Broomhill. Redgie is going to take care of them. I will getyou a nosegay, Frank. I did not know you liked it. ' She started up. 'How prudent, Phyllis, ' said Eleanor, 'not to haveput on your muslin frock yet. ' 'Oh! I am not going, ' said Phyllis. 'Not going!' was the general outcry. 'No, poor Ada cries so about being left at home with only baby, thatI cannot bear it, and so I promised to stay. ' Away went Phyllis, and Reginald exclaimed, 'Well, she shall not beserved so. I will go and tell Ada so this instant. ' Off he rushed, and putting in his head at the nursery door, shouted, 'Ada, I am come to tell you that Phyl is not to be made your black-a-moor slave! She shall go, that is settled. ' Down he went with equal speed, without waiting for an answer, andarrived while Eleanor was saying that she thought Ada was providedwith amusement with the baby, her playthings, and books, and that Mr. Devereux had promised to make her a visit. 'Anybody ought to stay at home rather than Phyllis, ' said Lily; 'Ithink I had better stay. ' 'No, no, Lily, ' said Jane, 'you are more wanted than I am; you arereally worth talking to and dancing with; I had much better be athome. ' 'I forgot!' exclaimed William. 'Mrs. Weston desired me to say thatshe is not going, and she will take care of Ada. Mr. Weston will sether down at half-past ten, and take up one of us. ' 'I will be that one, ' said Reginald, 'I have not seen Miss Westonsince I came home. I meant to walk to Broomhill after dinneryesterday, only the Baron stopped me about that country-dance. LastChristmas I made her promise to dance with me to-day. ' Lily had hoped to be that one, but she did not oppose Reginald, andturned to listen to Eleanor, who was saying, 'Let us clearlyunderstand how every one is to go, it will save a great deal ofconfusion. You and Jane, and Maurice, go in the phaeton, do not you?And who drives you?' 'William, I believe, ' said Lily. 'Claude goes earlier, so he ridesthe gray. Then there is the chariot for you and Frank, and papa andPhyllis. ' So it was proposed, but matters turned out otherwise. The phaeton, which, with a promoted cart-horse, was rather a slow conveyance, wasto set out first, but the whole of the freight was not ready in time. The ladies were in the hall as soon as it came to the door, butneither of the gentlemen were forthcoming. Reginald, who waswandering in the hall, was sent to summon them; but down he came ingreat wrath. Maurice had declared that he was not ready, and theymust wait for him till he had tied his neckcloth, which Reginaldopined would take three quarters of an hour, as he was doing itscientifically, and William had said that he was not going in the gigat all, that he had told Wat Greenwood to drive, and that Reginaldmust go instead of Maurice. In confirmation of the startling fact Wat, who had had a specialinvitation from the Marquis, was sitting in the phaeton in his bestblack velvet coat. Jane only hoped that Emily would not look out ofthe window, or she would certainly go into fits on seeing them arrivewith the old phaeton, the thick-legged cart-horse, and Wat Greenwoodfor a driver; and Reginald, after much growling at Maurice, muchbawling at William's door, and, as Jane said, romping and roaring inall parts of the house, was forced to be resigned to his fate, andall the way to Hetherington held a very amusing conversation with hisgood-natured friend the keeper. They were overtaken, nodded to, and passed by the rest of theirparty. Maurice had been reduced to ride the pony, William came withthe 'Westons, and the chariot load was just as had been beforearranged. Claude came out to meet them at the door, saying, 'I need not havegone so early. What do you think has become of the hero of the day?Guess, I will just give you this hint, "Though on pleasure he was bent, he had no selfish mind. "' 'Oh! the Aylmers, I suppose, ' said Lilias. 'Right, Lily, he heard something at dinner yesterday about a schoolfor clergymen's sons, which struck him as likely to suit youngDevereux Aylmer, and off he set at seven o'clock this morning toRaynham, to breakfast with Mrs. Aylmer, and talk to her about it. Never let me hear again that he is engrossed with his own affairs!' 'And why is he in such a hurry?' asked Lily. ''Tis his nature, ' said Claude, 'besides Travers, who mentioned thisschool, goes away to-morrow. My aunt is in a fine fright lest heshould not come back in time. Did not you hear her telling papa soin the drawing-room?' 'There he is, riding up to the door, ' said Phyllis, who had joinedthem in the hall. Lord Rotherwood stopped for a few moments at thedoor to give some directions to the servants, and then came quicklyin. 'Ah, there you are!--What time is it? It is all right, Claude--Devereux is just the right age. I asked him a few questions thismorning, and he will stand a capital examination. Ha, Phyl, I amglad to see you. ' 'I wish you many happy returns of the day, Cousin Rotherwood. ' 'Thank you, Phyl, we had better see how we get through one such daybefore we wish it to return. Are the rest come?' He went on into the drawing-room, and hastily informing his motherthat he had sent the carriage to fetch Miss Aylmer and her brothersto the feast, called Claude to come out on the lawn to look at thepreparations. The bowling-green was to serve as drawing-room, and atone end was pitched an immense tent where the dinner was to be. 'I say, Claude, ' said he in his quickest and most confused way, 'Idepend upon you for one thing. Do not let the Baron be too near me. ' 'The Baron of Beef?' said Claude. 'No, the Baron of Beechcroft. If you wish my speech to be radaratadara, put him where I can imagine that he hears me. ' 'Very well, ' said Claude, laughing; 'have you any other commands?' 'No--yes, I have though. You know what we settled about the toasts. Hunt up old Farmer Elderfield as soon as he comes, and do notfrighten him. If you could sit next to him and make him get up atthe right time, it would be best. Tell him I will not let any onepropose my health but my great-grandfather's tenant. You will manageit best. And tell Frank Hawkesworth, and Mr. Weston, or some ofthem, to manage so that the gentry may not sit together in a herd, two or three together would be best. Mind, Claude, I depend on youfor being attentive to all the damsels. I cannot be everywhere atonce, and I see your great Captain will be of no use to me. ' Here news was brought that the labourers had begun to arrive, and theparty went to the walnut avenue, where the feast was spread. It waspleasant to see so many poor families enjoying their excellentdinner; but perhaps the pleasantest sight was the lord of the feastspeaking to each poor man with all his bright good-naturedcordiality. Mr. Mohun was surprised to see how well he knew themall, considering how short a time he had been among them, and Liliasfound Florence rise in her estimation, when she perceived that theinside of the Hetherington cottages were not unknown to her. 'Do you know, Florence, ' said she, as they walked back to the housetogether, 'I did you great injustice? I never expected you to knowor care about poor people. ' 'No more I did till this winter, ' said Florence; 'I could not doanything, you know, before. Indeed, I do not do much now, onlyRotherwood has made me go into the school now and then; and whenfirst we came, he made it his especial request that whenever a poorwoman came to ask for anything I would go and speak to her. And so Icould not help being interested about those I knew. ' 'How odd it is that we never talked about it, ' said Lily. 'I never talk of it, ' said Florence, 'because mamma never likes tohear of my going into cottages with Rotherwood. Besides, somehow Ithought you did it as a matter of duty, and not of pleasure. Oh!Rotherwood, is that you?' 'The Aylmers are come, ' said Lord Rotherwood, drawing her arm intohis, 'and I want you to come and speak to them, Florence and Lily; Ican't find any one; all the great elders have vanished. You knowthem of old, do not you, Lily?' 'Of old? Yes; but of so old that I do not suppose they will know me. You must introduce me. ' He hastened them to the drawing-room, where they found Miss Aylmer, asensible, lady-like looking person, and two brothers, of aboutfifteen and thirteen. 'Well, Miss Aylmer, I have brought you two old friends; so old, thatthey think you have forgotten them--my cousin Lilias, and my sisterFlorence. ' 'We have not forgotten you, Miss Aylmer, ' said Florence, warmlyshaking hands with her. 'You seem so entirely to belong toHetherington that I scarcely knew the place without you. ' There was something that particularly pleased Lily in the manner inwhich Miss Aylmer answered. Florence talked a little while, and thenproposed to adjourn to the supplementary drawing-room--the lawn--where the company were already assembling. Florence was soon called off to receive some other guest, and Liliasspent a considerable time in sitting under a tree talking to MissAylmer, whom she found exceedingly pleasant and agreeable, remembering all that had happened during their former intercourse, and interested in everything that was going on. Lily was much amusedwhen her companion asked her who that gentleman was--'that tall, thinyoung man, with dark hair, whom she had seen once or twice speakingto Lord Rotherwood?' The tall gentleman advanced, spoke to Miss Aylmer, told Lily that theworld was verging towards the tent, and giving one arm to her and theother to Miss Aylmer, took that direction. In the meantime Phyllishad been walking about with her eldest sister, and wondering what hadbecome of all the others. In process of time she found herselfseated on a high bench in the tent, with a most beautiful pink-and-white sugar temple on the table before her. She was between Eleanorand Frank. All along one side of the table was a row of faces whichshe had never seen before, and she gazed at them in search of somewell-known countenance. At last Mr. Weston caught her eye, andnodded to her. Next to him she saw Marianne, then Reginald; on theother side Alethea and William. A little tranquillised by seeingthat every one was not lost, she had courage to eat some coldchicken, to talk to Frank about the sugar temple, and to make aninventory in her mind of the smartest bonnets for Ada's benefit. Shewas rather unhappy at not having found out when grace was said beforedinner, and she made Eleanor promise to tell her in time to stand upafter dinner. She could not, however, hear much, though warned intime, and by this time more at ease and rather enjoying herself thanotherwise. Now Eleanor told her to listen, for Cousin Rotherwood wasgoing to speak. She listened, but knew not what was said, until Mr. Hawkesworth told her it was Church and Queen. What Church and Queenhad to do with Cousin Rotherwood's birthday she could not imagine, and she laid it up in her mind to ask Claude. The next time she wastold to listen she managed to hear more. By the help of Eleanor'sdirections, she found out the speaker, an aged farmer, in a drabgreatcoat, his head bald, excepting a little silky white hair, whichfell over the collar of his coat. It was Mr. Elderfield, the oldesttenant on the estate, and he was saying in a slow deliberate tonethat he was told he was to propose his lordship's health. It was agreat honour for the like of him, and his lordship must excuse him ifhe did not make a fine speech. All he could say was, that he hadlived eighty-three years on the estate, and held his farm nearlysixty years; he had seen three marquises of Rotherwood besides hispresent lordship, and he had always found them very good landlords. He hoped and believed his lordship was like his fathers, and he wassure he could do no better than tread in their steps. He proposedthe health of Lord Rotherwood, and many happy returns of the day tohim. The simplicity and earnestness of the old man's tones wereappreciated by all, and the tremendous cheer, which almost terrifiedPhyllis, was a fit assent to the hearty good wishes of the oldfarmer. 'Now comes the trial!' whispered Claude to Lilias, after he hadvehemently contributed his proportion to the noise. Lilias saw thathis colour had risen, as much as if he had to make a speech himself, and he earnestly examined the coronet on his fork, while every othereye was fixed on the Marquis. Eloquence was not to be expected; but, at least, Lord Rotherwood spoke clearly and distinctly. 'My friends, ' said he, 'you must not expect much of a speech from me;I can only thank you for your kindness, say how glad I am to see youhere, and tell you of my earnest desire that I may not prove myselfunworthy to be compared with my forefathers. ' Here was a pause. Claude's hand shook, and Lily saw how anxious he was, but in anothermoment the Marquis went on smoothly. 'Now, I must ask you to drinkthe health of a gentleman who has done his utmost to compensate forthe loss which we sustained nine years ago, and to whom I owe anygood intentions which I may bring to the management of this property. I beg leave to propose the health of my uncle, Mr. Mohun, ofBeechcroft. ' Claude was much surprised, for his cousin had never given him a hintof his intention. It was a moment of great delight to all the youngMohuns when the cheer rose as loud and hearty as for the young lordhimself, and Phyllis smiled, and wondered, when she saw her papa riseto make answer. He said that he could not attempt to answer LordRotherwood, as he had not heard what he said, but that he was muchgratified by his having thought of him on this occasion, and by thegoodwill which all had expressed. This was the last speech that wasinteresting; Lady Rotherwood's health and a few more toasts followed, and the party then left the tent for the lawn, where the cool air wasmost refreshing, and the last beams of the evening sun were lightingthe tops of the trees. The dancing was now to begin, and this was the time for Claude to beuseful. He had spent so much time at home, and had accompanied hisfather so often in his rides, that he knew every one, and he wasinclined to make every exertion in the cause of his cousin, and onthis occasion seemed to have laid aside his indolence anddisinclination to speak to strangers. Lady Florence was also indefatigable, darting about, with a wonderfulperception who everybody was, and with whom each would like to dance. She seized upon little Devereux Aylmer for her own partner before anyone else had time to ask her, and carried him about the lawn, huntingup and pairing other shy people. 'Why, Reginald, what are you about? You can manage a country-dance. Make haste; where is your partner?' 'I meant to dance with Miss Weston, ' said Reginald, piteously. 'Miss Weston? Here she is. ' 'That is only Marianne, ' said Reginald. 'Oh! Miss Weston is dancing with William. Marianne, will you acceptmy apologies for this discourteous cousin of mine? I am perfectlyhorror-struck. There, Redgie, take her with a good grace; you willnever have a better partner. ' Marianne was only too glad to have Reginald presented to her, ungracious as he was, but the poor little couple met with numerousdisasters. They neither of them knew the way through a country-dance, and were almost run over every time they went down the middle;Reginald's heels were very inconvenient to his neighbours; so muchso, that once Claude thought it expedient to admonish him, thatdancing was not merely an elegant name for football without a ball. Every now and then some of their friends gave them a hasty intimationthat they were all wrong, but that they knew already but too well. At last, just when Marianne had turned scarlet with vexation, andReginald was growing so desperate that he had thoughts of running away, the dance came to an end, and Reginald, with very scantypoliteness to his partner, rushed away to her sister, saying, inrather a reproachful tone, 'Miss Weston, you promised to dance withme. ' 'I have not forgotten my promise, ' said Alethea, smiling. At the same moment Claude hurried up, saying, 'William, I want apartner for Miss Wilkins, of the Wold Farm. Miss Wilkins, let meintroduce Captain Mohun. ' 'You see I have made the Captain available, ' said Claude, presentlyafter meeting Lord Rotherwood, as he speeded across the lawn. 'Have you? I did not think him fair game, ' said the Marquis. 'Whereis your heroine, Claude? I have not seen her dancing. ' 'What heroine? What do you mean?' 'Honest Phyl, of course. Did you think I meant Miss Weston?' 'With Eleanor, somewhere. Is the next dance a quadrille?' Lord Rotherwood ran up the bank to the terraced walks, where theundancing part of the company sat or walked about. Soon he spiedPhyllis standing by Eleanor, looking rather wearied. 'Phyllis, canyou dance a quadrille?' Phyllis opened her eyes, and Eleanor desired her to answer. 'Come, Phyllis, let me see what M. Le Roi has done for you. ' He led her away, wondering greatly, and thinking how very good-natured Cousin Rotherwood was. Emily was much surprised to find Phyllis her vis a vis. Emily wasvery generally known and liked, and had no lack of grand partners, but she would have liked to dance with the Marquis. When thequadrille was over, she was glad to put herself in his way, by comingup to take charge of Phyllis. 'Well done, Phyl, ' said he; 'no mistakes. You must have anotherdance. Whom shall we find for you?' 'Oh! Rotherwood, ' said Emily, 'you cannot think how you gratified usall with your speech. ' 'Ah! I always set my heart on saying something of the kind; but Iwished I could have dared to add the bride's health. ' 'The bride!' 'Do not pretend to have no eyes, ' said Lord Rotherwood, with asignificant glance, which directed Emily's eyes to the terrace, whereMr. Mohun and Alethea were walking together in eager conversation. Emily was ready to sink into the earth. Jane's surmises, and themysterious words of her father, left her no further doubt. At thismoment some one asked her to dance, and scarcely knowing what she didor said, she walked to her place. Lord Rotherwood now found apartner for Phyllis, and a farmer's daughter for himself. This dance over, Phyllis's partner did not well know how to disposeof her, and she grew rather frightened on finding that none of hersisters were in sight. At last she perceived Reginald standing onthe bank, and made her escape to him. 'Redgie, did you see who I have been dancing with? Cousin Rotherwoodand Claude's grand Oxford friend--Mr. Travers. ' 'It is all nonsense, ' said Reginald. 'Come out of this mob ofpeople. ' 'But where is Eleanor?' 'Somewhere in the midst. They are all absurd together. ' 'What is the matter, Redgie?' asked Phyllis, unable to account forthis extraordinary fit of misanthropy. 'Papa and William both driving me about like a dog, ' said Reginald;'first I danced with Miss Weston--then she saw that woman--that MissAylmer--shook hands--talked--and then nothing would serve her but tofind papa. As soon as the Baron sees me he cries out, "Why are notyou dancing, Redgie? We do not want you!" Up and down they walk, ever so long, and presently papa turns off, and begins talking toMiss Aylmer. Then, of course, I went back to Miss Weston, but thenup comes William, as savage as one of his Canadian bears; he ordersme off too, and so here I am! I am sure I am not going to ask anyone else to dance. Come and walk with me in peace, Phyl. Do you seethem?--Miss Weston and Marianne under that tulip-tree, and theCaptain helping them to ice. ' 'Redgie, did you give Miss Weston her nosegay? Some one put suchbeautiful flowers in it, such as I never saw before. ' 'How could I? They sent me off with Lily and Jane. I told William Ihad the flowers in charge, and he said he would take care of them. By the bye, Phyl, ' and Reginald gave a wondrous spring, 'I have it!I have it! I have it! If he is not in love with Miss Weston you maycall me an ass for the rest of my life. ' 'I should not like to call you an ass, Redgie, ' said Phyllis. 'Very likely; but do not make me call you one. Hurrah! Now askMarianne if it is not so. Marianne must know. How jolly! I say, Phyl, stay there, and I will fetch Marianne. ' Away ran Reginald, and presently returned with Marianne, who was veryglad to be invited to join Phyllis. She little knew what anexamination awaited her. 'Marianne, ' began Phyllis, 'I'll tell you what--' 'No, I will do it right, ' said Reginald; 'you know nothing about it, Phyl. Marianne, is not something going on there?' 'Going on?' said Marianne, 'Alethea is speaking to Mrs. Hawkesworth. ' 'Nonsense, I know better, Marianne. I have a suspicion that I couldtell what the Captain was about yesterday when he walked off afterdinner. ' 'How very wise you think you look, Reginald!' said Marianne, laughingheartily. 'But tell us; do tell us, Marianne, ' said Phyllis. 'Tell you whet?' 'Whether William is going to marry Miss Weston, ' said thestraightforward Phyllis. 'Redgie says so--only tell us. Oh! itwould be so nice!' 'How you blurt it out, Phyl, ' said Reginald. 'You do not know howthose things are managed. Mind, I found it out all myself. Justsay, Marianne. Am not I right?' 'I do not know whether I ought to tell, ' said Marianne. 'Oh! then it is all right, ' said Reginald, 'and I found it out. Now, Marianne, there is a good girl, tell us all about it. ' 'You know I could not say "No" when you asked me, ' said Marianne; 'Icould not help it really; but pray do not tell anybody, or CaptainMohun will not like it. ' 'Does any one know?' said Reginald. 'Only ourselves and Mr. Mohun; and I think Lord Rotherwood guesses, from something I heard him say to Jane. ' 'To Jane?' said Reginald. 'That is provoking; she will think shefound it out all herself, and be so conceited!' 'You need not be afraid, ' said Marianne, laughing; 'Jane is on awrong scent. ' 'Jane? Oh! I should like to see her out in her reckonings! I shouldlike to have a laugh against her. What does she think, Marianne?' 'Oh! I cannot tell you; it is too bad. ' 'Oh! do; do, pray. You may whisper it if it is too bad for Phyllisto hear. ' 'No, no, ' said Marianne; 'it is nothing but nonsense. If you hearit, Phyllis shall too; but mind, you must promise not to say anythingto anybody, or I do not know what will become of me. ' 'Well, we will not, ' said Reginald; 'boys can always keep secrets, and I'll engage for Phyl. Now for it. ' 'She is in a terrible fright lest it should be Mr. Mohun. She got itinto her head last autumn, and all I could say would not persuade herout of it. Why, she always calls me Aunt Marianne when we are alone. Now, Reginald, here comes Maurice. Do not say anything, I beg andentreat. It is my secret, you know. I daresay you will all be toldto-morrow, --indeed, mamma said so, --but pray say nothing about me orJane. It was only settled yesterday evening. ' At this moment Maurice came up, with a message that Miss Weston andEleanor were going away, and wanted the little girls. They followedhim to the tent, which had been cleared of the tables, and lightedup, in order that the dancing might continue there. Most of theirown party were collected at the entrance, watching for them. Liliascame up just as they did, and exclaimed in a tone of disappointment, on finding them preparing to depart. She had enjoyed herselfexceedingly, found plenty of partners, and was not in the leasttired. 'Why should she not stay?' said William. 'Claude has engaged to stayto the end of everything, and he may as well drive her as ride thegray. ' 'And you, Jenny, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'do you like to stay or go?Alethea will make room for you in the pony-carriage, or you may gowith Eleanor. 'With Eleanor, if you please, ' said Jane. 'Already, Jane?' said Lily. 'Are you tired?' Jane drew her aside. 'Tired of hearing that I was right about whatyou would not believe. Did you not hear what he called her? AndRotherwood has found it out. ' 'It is all gossip and mistake, ' said Lily. Here Jane was called away by Eleanor, and departed with her; Liliaswent to look for her aunt or Florence, but on the way was asked todance by Mr. Carrington. 'I suppose I may congratulate you, ' said he in one of the pauses inthe quadrille. Lily thought it best to misunderstand, and answered, 'Everything hasgone off very well. ' 'Very. Lord Rotherwood will be a popular man; but my congratulationsrefer to something nearer home. I think you owe us some thanks forhaving brought them into the neighbourhood. ' 'Report is very kind in making arrangements, ' said Lily, withsomething of Emily's haughty courtesy. 'I hope this is something more than report, ' said her partner. 'Indeed, I believe not. I think I may safely say that it is atpresent quite unfounded, ' said Lily, Mr. Carrington, much surprised, said no more. Lily did not believe the report sufficiently to be annoyed by itduring the excitement and pleasure of the evening, and at present herprincipal vexation was caused by the rapid diminution of the company. She and her brother were the very last to depart, even Florence hadgone to bed, and Lady Rotherwood, looking exceedingly tired, kissedLily at the foot of the stairs, pitied her for going home in an opencarriage, and wished her good-night in a very weary tone. 'I should think you were the fiftieth lady I have handed across thehall, ' said Lord Rotherwood, as he gave Lily his arm. 'But where were the fireworks, Rotherwood?' 'Countermanded long ago. We have had enough of them. Well, I amsorry it is over. ' 'I am very glad it is so well over, ' said Claude. 'Thanks to your exertions, Claude, ' said the Marquis. 'You actedlike a hero. ' 'Like a dancing dervish you mean, ' said Claude. 'It will suffice formy whole life. ' 'I hope you are not quite exhausted. ' 'No, thank you. I have turned over a new leaf. ' 'Talking of new leaves, ' said the Marquis, 'I always had apresentiment that Emily's government would come to a crisis to-day. ' 'Do you think it has?' said Claude. 'Trust my word, you will hear great news to-morrow. And that remindsme--can you come here to-morrow morning? Travers is going--I drivehim to meet the coach at the town, and you were talking of wanting tosee the new windows in the cathedral: it will be a good opportunity. And dine here afterwards to talk over the adventures. ' 'Thank you--that last I cannot do. The Baron was saying it would bethe first time of having us all together. ' 'Very well, besides the great news. I wish I was going back withyou; it is a tame conclusion, only to go to bed. If I was but to beon the scene of action to-morrow. Tell the Baron that--no, use yourinfluence to get me invited to dinner on Saturday--I really want tospeak to him. ' 'Very well, ' said Claude, 'I'll do my best. Good-night. ' 'Good-night, ' said the Marquis. 'You have both done wonders. Still, I wish it was to come over again. ' 'Few people would say so, ' said Lily, as they drove off. 'Few would say so if they thought so, ' said Claude. 'I have beenquite admiring the way Rotherwood has gone on--enjoying the fun as ifhe was nobody--just as Reginald might, making other people happy, andmaking no secret of his satisfaction in it all. ' 'Very free from affectation and nonsense, ' said Lily, 'as Williamsaid of him last Christmas. You were in a fine fright about hisspeech, Claude. ' 'More than I ought to have been. I should have known that he is toosimple-minded and straightforward to say anything but just what heought. What a nice person that Miss Aylmer is. ' 'Is not she, Claude? I was very glad you had her for a neighbour. Happy the children who have her for a governess. How sensible andgentle she seems. The Westons--But oh! Claude, tell me one thing, did you hear--' 'Well, what?' 'I am ashamed to say. That preposterous report about papa. Why, Rotherwood himself seems to believe it, and Mr. Carrington began tocongratulate--' 'The public has bestowed so many ladies on the Baron, that I wonderit is not tired, ' said Claude. 'It is time it should patroniseWilliam instead. ' 'Rotherwood is not the public, ' said Lily, 'and he is the last personto say anything impertinent of papa. And I myself heard papa callher Alethea, which he never used to do. Claude, what do you think?' After a long pause Claude slowly replied, 'Think? Why, I think MissWeston must be a person of great courage. She begins the world as agrandmother, to say nothing of her eldest daughter and son beingconsiderably her seniors. ' 'I do not believe it, ' said Lily. 'Do you, Claude?' 'I cannot make up my mind--it is too amazing. My hair is stillstanding on end. When it comes down I may be able to tell yousomething. ' Such were the only answers that Lily could extract from him. He didnot sufficiently disbelieve the report to treat it with scorn, yet hedid not sufficiently credit it to resign himself to such a state ofthings. On coming home Lily found Emily and Jane in her room, eagerlydiscussing the circumstances which, to their prejudiced eyes, seemedstrong confirmation. While their tongues were in full career thedoor opened and Eleanor appeared. She told them it was twelveo'clock, turned Jane out of the room, and made Emily and Lily promisenot to utter another syllable that night. CHAPTER XXVI: THE CRISIS '"Is this your care of the nest?" cried he, "It comes of your gadding abroad, " said she. ' To the consternation of the disconsolate damsels, the first news theyheard the next morning was that Mr. Mohun was gone to breakfast atBroomhill, and the intelligence was received by Frank Hawkesworthwith a smile which they thought perfectly malicious. Frank, William, and Reginald talked a little at breakfast about the fete, but no onejoined them, and Claude looked so grave that Eleanor was convincedthat he had a headache, and vainly tried to persuade him to stay athome, instead of setting off to Devereux Castle immediately afterbreakfast. The past day had not been spent in vain by Ada. Mrs. Weston had ledher by degrees to open her heart to her, had made her perceive thereal cause of her father's displeasure, see her faults, and promiseto confess them, a promise which she performed with many tears, assoon as she saw Eleanor in the morning. On telling this to Emily Eleanor was surprised to find that she wasnot listened to with much satisfaction. Emily seemed to think it apiece of interference on the part of Mrs. Weston, and would not allowthat it was likely to be the beginning of improvement in Ada. 'The words were put into her mouth, ' said she; 'and they were an easyway of escaping from her present state of disgrace. ' 'On the contrary, ' said Eleanor, 'she seemed to think that she justlydeserved to be in disgrace. ' 'Did you think so?' said Emily, in a careless tone. 'You are in a strange mood to-day, Emily, ' said Eleanor. 'Am I? I did not know it. I wonder where Lily is. ' Lily was in her own room, teaching Phyllis. Phyllis was rather wildand flighty that morning, scarcely able to command her attention, andevery now and then bursting into an irrepressible fit of laughter. Reginald and Phyllis found it most difficult to avoid betrayingMarianne, and as soon as luncheon was over, they agreed to set out ona long expedition into the woods, where they might enjoy theirwonderful secret together. Just at this time Mr. Mohun returned. Hecame into the drawing-room, and Lilias, perceiving that thethreatened conversation with Emily was about to take place, made herescape to her own room, whither she was presently followed by Jane, who could not help running after her to report the great news thatEmily was to be deposed. 'I am sure of it, ' said she. 'They sent me out of the room, but notbefore I had seen certain symptoms. ' 'It is very hard that poor Emily should bear all the blame, ' saidLily. 'You have managed to escape it very well, ' said Jane, laughing. 'Youhave all the thanks and praise. I suppose it is because the intimacywith Miss Weston was your work. ' 'I will not believe that nonsense, ' said Lily. 'Seeing is believing, they say, ' said Jane. 'Remember, it is notonly me. Think of Rotherwood. And Maurice guesses it too, andRedgie told him great things were going on. ' While Jane was speaking they heard the drawing-room door open, and inanother moment Emily came in. It was true that, as Jane said, she had been deposed. Mr. Mohun hadbegun by saying, 'Emily, can you bring me such an account of yourexpenditure as I desired?' 'I scarcely think I can, papa, ' said Emily. 'I am sorry to say thatmy accounts are rather in confusion. ' 'That is to say, that you have been as irregular in the management ofyour own affairs as you have in mine. Well, I have paid your debt toLilias, and from this time forward I require of you to reduce yourexpenses to the sum which I consider suitable, and which both Eleanorand Lilias have found perfectly sufficient. And now, Emily, whathave you to say for the management of my affairs? Can you offer anyexcuse for your utter failure?' 'Indeed, papa, I am very sorry I vexed you, ' said Emily. 'Ourillness last autumn--different things--I know all has not been quiteas it should be; but I hope that in future I shall profit by pastexperience. ' 'I hope so, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'but I am afraid to trust the managementof the family to you any longer. Your trial is over, and you havefailed, merely because you would not exert yourself from wilfulindolence and negligence. You have not attended to any one thingcommitted to your charge--you have placed temptation in Esther's way--and allowed Ada to take up habits which will not be easilycorrected. I should not think myself justified in leaving you incharge any longer, lest worse mischief should ensue. I wish you togive up the keys to Eleanor for the present. ' Mr. Mohun would perhaps have added something if Emily had shown signsof repentance, or even of sorrow. The moment was at least as painfulto him as to her, and he had prepared himself to expect eitherhysterical tears, with vows of amendment, or else an argument on herside that she was right and everybody else wrong. But there wasnothing of the kind; Emily neither spoke nor looked; she only carriedthe tokens of her authority to Eleanor, and left the room. Shethought she knew well enough the cause of her deposition, consideredit quite as a matter of course, and departed on purpose to avoidhearing the announcement which she expected to follow. She was annoyed by finding her sisters in her room, and especiallyirritated by Jane's tone, as she eagerly asked, 'Well, what did hesay?' 'Never mind, ' replied Emily, pettishly. 'Was it about Miss Weston?' persisted Jane. 'Not actually, but I saw it was coming, ' said Emily. 'Ah!' said Jane, 'I was just telling Lily that she owes all herpresent favour to her having been Alethea's bosom friend. ' 'I confess I thought Miss Weston was assuming authority long ago, 'said Emily. 'Emily, how can you say so?' cried Lily. 'How can you be so unjustand ungrateful? I do not believe this report; but if it should betrue, are not these foolish expressions of dislike so many attemptsto make yourself undutiful?' 'I have rather more sincerity, more dignity, more attachment to myown mother, than to try to gain favour by affecting what I do notfeel, ' said Emily. 'Rather cutting, Emily, ' said Jane. 'Do not give that speech an application which Emily did not intend, 'said Lily, sadly. 'What makes you think I did not intend it?' said Emily, coldly. 'Emily!' exclaimed Lily, starting up, and colouring violently, 'areyou thinking what you are saying?' 'I do not know what you mean, ' replied Emily quietly, in her soft, unchanging voice; 'I only mean that if you can feel satisfied withthe new arrangement you are more easily pleased than I am. ' 'Only tell me, Emily, do you accuse me of attempting to gain favourin an unworthy manner?' 'I only congratulate you on standing so well with every one. ' Lily hid her face in her hands. At this moment Eleanor opened thedoor, saying, 'Can you come down? Mrs. Burnet is here. ' Eleanorwent without observing Lily, and Emily was obliged to follow. Janelingered in order to comfort Lily. 'You know she did not quite mean it, ' said she; 'she is only verymuch provoked. ' 'I know, I know, ' said Lily; 'she is very sorry herself by this time. Of course she did not mean it, but it is the first unkind thing sheever said to me. It is very silly, and very unjust to take itseriously, but I cannot help it. ' 'It is a very abominable shame, ' said Jane, 'and so I shall tellEmily. ' 'No, do not, Jenny, I beg. I know she thinks so herself, and grievestoo much over it. No wonder she is vexed. All my faults have comeupon her. You had better go down, Jane; Mrs. Burnet is always vexedif she does not see a good many of us, and I am sure I cannot go. Besides, Emily dislikes having that girl to entertain. ' 'Lily, you are so very gentle and forgiving, that I wonder how anyone can say what grieves you, ' said Jane, for once struck withadmiration. She went, and Lily remained, weeping over the injustice which she hadforgiven, and feeling as if, all the time, it was fair that the ruleof 'love' should, as it were, recoil upon her. Her tears flowedfast, as she went over the long line of faults and follies which layheavy on her conscience. And Emily against her! That sister who, from her infancy, had soothed her in every trouble, of whose sympathyshe had always felt sure, whose gentleness had been her admiration inher days of sharp answers and violent temper, who had seemed her ownbeyond all the others; this wound from her gave Lily a bitter feelingof desertion and loneliness. It was like a completion of herpunishment--the broken reed on which she leant had pierced herdeeply. She was still sitting on the side of her bed, weeping, when a slighttap at the door made her start--a gentle tap, the sound of which shehad learned to love in her illness. The next moment Alethea stoodbefore her, with outstretched arms. This was a time to feel thevalue of such a friend, and every suspicion passing from her mind, she flew to Alethea, kissed her again and again, and laid her head onher shoulder. Her caress was returned with equal warmth. 'But how is this?' said Alethea, now perceiving that her face waspale, and marked by tears. 'How is this, my dear Lily?' 'Oh, Alethea! I cannot tell you, but it is all misery. The fulleffect of my baneful principle has appeared!' 'Has anything happened?' exclaimed Alethea. 'No, ' said Lily. 'There is nothing new, except the--Oh! I cannottell you. ' 'I wish I could do anything for you, my poor Lily, ' said Alethea. 'You can look kind, ' said Lily, 'and that is a great comfort. Oh!Alethea, it was very kind of you to come and speak to me. I shall donow--I can bear it all better. You have a comforting face and voicelike nobody else. When did you come? Have you been in the drawing-room?' 'No, ' said Alethea. 'I walked here with Marianne, and finding therewere visitors in the drawing-room we went to Ada, and she told mewhere to find you. I had something to tell you--but perhaps you knowalready. ' The colour on her cheek recalled all Lily's fears, and to hear thenews from herself was an unexpected trial. She felt as if what shehad said justified Emily's reproach, and turning away her head, replied, 'Yes, I know. ' Alethea was a little hurt by her coldness, but she ascribed it todejection and embarrassment, and blamed herself for hurrying on whatshe had to tell without sufficient regard for Lily's distress. Therewas an awkward pause, which Alethea broke, by saying, 'Your brotherthought you would like to hear it from me. ' 'My brother!' cried Lily, with a most sudden change of tone. 'William? Oh, Alethea! dearest Alethea; I beg your pardon. Theyalmost made me believe it was papa. Oh! I am so very glad!' Alethea could not help laughing, and Lily joined her heartily. Itwas one of the brightest hours of her life, as she sat with her handin her friend's, pouring out her eager expressions of delight andaffection. All her troubles were forgotten--how should they not, when Alethea was to be her sister! It seemed as if but a few minuteshad passed, when the sound of the great clock warned Alethea that itwas time to return to Broomhill, and she asked Lilias to walk backwith her. After summoning Marianne, they set out through the garden, where, on being joined by William, Lily thought it expedient tobetake herself to Marianne, who was but too glad to be able freely tocommunicate many interesting particulars. At Broomhill she had avery enjoyable talk with Mrs. Weston, but her chief delight was inher walk home with her brother. She was high in his favour, asAlethea's chief friend. Though usually reserved, he was now open, and Lily wondered to find herself honoured with confidence. Hisattachment had begun in very early days, when first he knew theWestons in Brighton. Harry's death had suddenly called him away, anda few guarded expressions of his wishes in the course of the nextwinter had been cut short by his father. He then went to Canada, andhad had no opportunity of renewing his acquaintance till the lastwinter, when, on coming home, to his great joy and surprise he foundthe Westons on the most intimate terms with his family. He then spoke to his father, who wished him to take a little moretime for consideration, and he had accordingly waited till thesummer. Lily longed to know his plans for the future, and presentlyhe went on to say that his father wished him to leave the army, liveat home, and let Alethea be the head of the household. 'Oh, William! it is perfect. There is an end of all our troubles. It is as if a great black curtain was drawn up. ' 'They say such plans never succeed, ' said William; 'but we mean toprove the contrary. ' 'How good it will be for the children!' said Lily. 'Oh! why had we not such a guide at first?' 'She has all that Eleanor wants, ' said William. 'My follies were not Eleanor's fault, ' said Lily; 'but I do think Ishould not have been quite so silly if I had known Alethea from thefirst. ' It was not in the power of William himself to say more in her praisethan Lily. In the eagerness of their conversation they walkedslowly, and as they were crossing the last field the dinner-bellrang. As they quickened their steps they saw Mr. Mohun looking athis wheat. Lily told him how late it was. 'There, ' said he, 'I am always looking after other people's affairs. Between Rotherwood and William I have not a moment for my own crops. However, my turn is coming. William will have it all on his hands, and the old deaf useless Baron will sit in his great chair and takehis ease. ' 'Not a bit, papa, ' said Lily, 'the Baron will grow young, and take todancing. He is talking nonsense already. ' 'Eh! Miss Lily turned saucy? Mrs. William Mohun must take her inhand. Well, Lily, has he your consent and approbation?' 'I only wish this was eighteen months ago, papa. ' 'We shall soon come into order, Lily. With Miss Aylmer for thelittle ones, and Mrs. Mohun for the great ones, I have little fear. ' 'Miss Aylmer, papa!' 'Yes, if all turns out well. We propose to find a house for hermother in the village, and let her come every day to teach the littleones. ' 'Oh! I am very glad. We liked her so much. ' 'I hope, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'that this plan will please Claude betterthan my proposal of a governess last month. He looked as if heexpected Minerva with helmet, and AEgis and all. Now make haste anddress. Do not let us shock Eleanor by keeping dinner waiting longerthan we can help. ' Lilias found that her sisters had long been dressed and gone down. She dressed alone, every now and then smiling at her own happy looksreflected in the glass. Just as she had finished, Claude knocked atthe door, and putting in his head, said, 'Well, Lily, has thewonderful news come forth? I see it has, by your face. ' 'And do you know what it is, Claude?' said Lily. 'I know what Rotherwood meant, and I cannot think where all oursenses were. ' 'And, Claude, only say that you like her. ' 'I think it is a very good thing indeed. ' 'Only say that you cordially like her. ' 'I do. I admire her sense and her gentleness very much, and I thinkyou owe a great deal to her. ' 'Then you allow that you were unjust last summer?' 'I do; but it was owing to you. You were somewhat foolish, and Ithought it was her fault. Besides, I was quite tired of hearing thatextraordinary name of hers for ever repeated. ' Here they were summoned to dinner, and hurried down. The dinnerpassed very strangely; some were in very high spirits, others in avery melancholy mood; Eleanor and Maurice alone preserved the goldenmean; and the behaviour of the merry ones was perfectlyunintelligible to the rest. Reginald, still bound by his promise toMarianne, was wild to make his discovery known, and behaved in such astrange and comical manner as to call forth various reproofs fromEleanor, which provoked double mirth from the others. The cause oftheir amusement was ostensibly the talking over of yesterday's fete, but the laughing was more than adequate, even to the wonderfulcollection of odd speeches and adventures which were detailed. Emilyand Jane could not guess what had come to Lily, and thought hermerriment very ill-placed. Yet, in justice to Lily, it must be saidthat her joy no longer made her wild and thoughtless. There wassomething guarded and subdued about her, which made Claude reflecthow different she was from the untamed girl of last summer, who couldnot be happy without a sort of intoxication. The ladies returned to the drawing-room, where Ada now appeared forthe first time, and while they were congratulating her Mr. Mohunsummoned Eleanor away. Jane followed at a safe distance to see wherethey went. They shut themselves into the study, and Jane, nowmeeting Maurice, went into the garden with him. 'It must be comingnow, ' said she; 'oh! there are William and Claude talking under theplane-tree. ' 'Claude has his cunning smile on, ' said Maurice. 'No wonder, ' said Jane, 'it is very absurd. I daresay William willhardly ever come home now. One comfort is, they will see I was rightfrom the first. ' Jane and Maurice remained in the garden till teatime, and thus missedhearing the whole affair discussed in the drawing-room between Emily, Lilias, and Frank. This was the first news that Emily heard of it, and a very great relief it was, for she could imagine liking, andeven loving, Alethea as a sister-in-law. Her chief annoyance was atpresent from the perception of the difference between her ownposition and that of Lilias. Last year how was Lily regarded in thefamily, and what was her opinion worth? Almost nothing; she was onlya clever, romantic, silly girl, while Emily had credit at least fordiscretion. Now Lily was consulted and sought out by father, brothers, Eleanor--no longer treated as a child. And what was Emily?Blamed or pitied on every side, and left to hear this important newsfrom the chance mention of her brother-in-law, himself not fullyinformed. She had become nobody, and had even lost the satisfaction, such as it was, of fancying that her father only made her badmanagement an excuse for his marriage. She heard many particularsfrom Lily in the course of the evening, as they were going to bed;and the sisters talked with all their wonted affection, althoughEmily had not thought it worth while to revive an old grievance, byasking Lily's pardon for her unkind speech, and rested satisfied withthe knowledge that her sister knew her heart too well to care forwhat she said in a moment of irritation. On the other hand, Lily didnot think that she had a right to mention the plan of Alethea'sgovernment, and the next day she was glad of her reserve, for herfather called her to share his early walk for the purpose of talkingover the scheme, telling her that he thought she understood the stateof things better than Eleanor could, and that he considered that shehad sufficient influence with Emily to prevent her from makingAlethea uncomfortable. The conclusion of the conversation was, thatthey thought they might depend upon Emily's amiability, her courtesy, and her dislike of trouble, to balance her love of importance anddignity. And that Alethea would do nothing to hurt her feelings, andwould assume no authority that she could help, they felt convinced. After breakfast Mr. Mohun called Emily into his study, informed herof his resolution, to which she listened with her usual submissivemanner, and told her that he trusted to her good sense and rightfeeling to obviate any collisions of authority which might beunpleasant to Alethea and hurtful to the younger ones. She promisedall that was desired, and though at the moment she felt hurt andgrieved, she almost immediately recovered her usual spirits, neverhigh, but always serene, and only seeking for easy amusement andcomfort in whatever happened. There was no public disgrace in herdeposition; it would not seem unnatural to the neighbours that herbrother's wife should be at the head of the house. She would gaincredit for her amiability, and she would no longer be responsible orobliged to exert herself; and as to Alethea herself, she could nothelp respecting and almost loving her. It was very well it was noworse. In the meantime Lily, struck by a sudden thought, had hastened to hermother's little deserted morning-room, to see if it could not be madea delightful abode for Alethea; and she was considering of itscapabilities when she started at the sound of an approaching step. It was the rapid and measured tread of the Captain, and in a fewmoments he entered. 'Thank you, ' said he, smiling, 'you are on thesame errand as myself. ' 'Exactly so, ' said Lily; 'it will do capitally; how pretty Long Acrelooks, and what a beautiful view of the church!' 'This room used once to be pretty, ' said William, looking round, disappointed; 'it is very forlorn. ' 'Ah! but it will look very different when the chairs do not standwith their backs to the wall. I do not think Alethea knows of thisroom, for nobody has sat in it for years, and we will make it asurprise. And here is your own picture, at ten years old, over thefireplace! I have such a vision, you will not know the room when Ihave set it to rights. ' They went on talking eagerly of the improvements that might be made, and from thence came to other subjects--Alethea herself, and thefuture plans. At last William asked if Lily knew what made Jane lookas deplorable as she had done for the last two days, and Lily wasobliged to tell him, with the addition that Eleanor had begun toinform her of the real fact, but that she had stopped her bydeclaring that she had known it all from the first. Just as they hadmentioned her, Jane, attracted by the unusual sound of voices in LadyEmily's room, came in, asking what they could be doing there. Lilywould scarcely have dared to reply, but William said in a grave, matter-of-fact way, 'We are thinking of having this room newly fittedup. ' 'For Alethea Weston?' said Jane; 'how can you, Lily? I should havethought, at least, it was no laughing matter. ' 'I advise you to follow Lily's example and make the best of it, ' saidWilliam. 'I do, but it is another thing to stand laughing here. I see onething that I shall do--I shall take away your picture and hang it inmy room. ' 'We shall see, ' said William, following Lilias, who had left the roomto hide her laughter. To mystify Jane was the great amusement of the day; Reginald, findingMaurice possessed with the same notion, did more to maintain it thanthe others would have thought right, and Maurice reporting hisspeeches to Jane, she had not the least doubt that her idea wascorrect. Lord Rotherwood came to dinner, and no sooner had heentered the drawing-room than Reginald, rejoicing in the absence ofthe parties concerned, informed him of the joke, much to hisdiversion, though rather to the discomfiture of the more prudentspectators, who might have wished it confined to themselves. 'It has gone far enough, ' said Claude; 'she will say something shewill repent if we do not take care. ' 'I should like to reduce her to humble herself to ask an explanationfrom Marianne, ' said Lily. 'And pray don't spoil the joke before I have enjoyed it, ' said LordRotherwood. 'My years of discretion are not such centuries of wisdomas those of that gentleman who looks as grim as his namesake theEmperor on a coin. ' The entrance of Eleanor and Jane here put an end to the conversation, which was not renewed till the evening, when the younger, or asClaude called it, the middle-aged part of the company were sitting onthe lawn, leaving the drawing-room to the elder and more prudent, andthe terrace to the wilder and more active. Emily was talking of Mrs. Burnet's visit of the day before, and her opinion of the Hetheringtonfestivities. 'And what an interminable visit it was, ' said Jane; 'Ithought they would never go!' 'People always inflict themselves in a most merciless manner whenthere is anything going on, ' said Emily. 'I wonder if they guessed anything, ' said Lily. 'To be sure they did, and stayed out of curiosity, ' said LordRotherwood. 'In spite of Emily's dignified contradictions of thereport, every one knew it the other evening. It was all in vain thatshe behaved as if I was speaking treason--people have eyes. ' 'Ah! I am very sorry for that contradiction, ' said Lily; 'I hopepeople will not fancy we do not like it. ' 'No, it will only prove my greatness, ' said Lord Rotherwood. 'YourMarques, was China in the map, so absorbing all beholders that themagnanimous Mohuns themselves--' 'What nonsense, Rotherwood, ' said Jane, sharply; 'can't you supposethat one may shut one's eyes to what one does not wish to see. ' The singular inappropriateness of this answer occasioned a generalroar of laughter, and she looked in perplexity. Every one whom sheasked why they laughed replied by saying, 'Ask Marianne Weston;' andat length, after much puzzling and guessing, and being more laughedat than had ever before happened to her in her life, she was obligedto seek an explanation from Marianne, who might well have triumphedhad she been so disposed. Jane's character for penetration wasentirely destroyed, and the next morning she received, as a presentfrom Claude, an old book, which had long belonged to the nursery, entitled, A Puzzle for a Curious Girl. CHAPTER XXVII: CONCLUSION 'There let Hymen oft appearIn saffron robe, with taper clear, And pomp, and feast, and revelry, And mask, and antique pageantry;Such sights as useful poets dreamOn summer eves, by haunted stream. ' On the morning of a fine day, late in September, the Beechcroft bellswere ringing merrily, and a wedding procession was entering the gateof the churchyard. In the afternoon there was a great feast on the top of the hill, attended by all the Mohuns, who were forced, to Lily's greatsatisfaction, to give it there, as there was no space in the groundsat the New Court. All was wonderfully suitable to old times, inasmuch as the Baron was actually persuaded to sit for five minutesunder the yew-tree where 'Mohun's chair' ought to have been, and thecricketers were of all ranks, from the Marquis of Rotherwood tolittle Dick Grey. The wedding had been hurried on, and the wedding tour was shortened, in order that Mrs. William Mohun might be installed as mistress ofthe New Court before Eleanor's departure, which took place early inOctober; and shortly after Mrs. Ridley, who had come on a visit toBeechcroft, to take leave of her brother, returned to the north, taking with her the little Harry. He was nearly a year old, and itgave great pain to his young aunts to part with him, now that he hadendeared himself to them by many engaging ways, but Lily felt herselftoo unequal to the task of training him up to make any objection, andthere were many promises that he should not be a stranger to hisgrandfather's home. Mrs. And Miss Aylmer had been about a month settled at a superiorsort of cottage, near the New Court, with Mrs. Eden for theirservant. Lord Rotherwood had fitted out the second son, who sailedfor India with Mr. And Mrs. Hawkesworth, had sent Devereux to school, and was lying in wait to see what could be done for the two others, and Jane was congratulated far more than she wished, on having beenthe means of discovering such an excellent governess. Jane was now aregular inhabitant of the schoolroom, as much tied down to lessonsand schoolroom hours as her two little sisters, with the prospect ofso continuing for two years, if not for three. She made one attemptto be pert to Miss Aylmer; but something in the manner of hergoverness quite baffled her, and she was obliged to be more obedientthan she had ever been. The mischief which Emily and Lilias had doneto her, by throwing off their allegiance to Eleanor, and thusunconsciously leading her to set her at nought, was, at her age, notto be so easily repaired; yet with no opportunity for gossiping, andwith involuntary respect for her governess, there were hopes that shewould lose the habit of her two great faults. There certainly was animprovement in her general tone and manner, which made Mr. Devereuxhope that he might soon resume with her the preparation forconfirmation which had been cut short the year before. Phyllis and Adeline had been possessed by Reginald with a great dreadof governesses; and they were agreeably surprised in Miss Aylmer, whom they found neither cross nor strict, and always willing toforward their amusements, and let them go out with their papa andsisters whenever they were asked. Phyllis, without much annoyance toone so obedient, was trained into more civilisation, and Ada's moreserious faults were duly watched and guarded against. The removal ofEsther was a great advantage to Ada; an older and more steady personwas taken in her place; while to the great relief of Mr. Mohun andLilias, Rachel Harvey took Esther to her brother's farmhouse, whereshe promised to watch and teach her, and hoped in time to make her agood servant. Of Emily there is little to say. She ate, drank, and slept, talkedagreeably, read idle books, and looked nice in the drawing-room, wasting time, throwing away talents, weakening the powers of hermind, and laying up a store of sad reflections for herself againstthe time when she must awake from her selfish apathy. As to Lilias Mohun, the heroine of this tale, the history of theformation of her character has been told, and all that remains to besaid of her is, that the memory of her faults and her sorrows did notfleet away like a morning cloud, though followed by many happy andprosperous days, and though the effects of many were repaired. Agnes's death, Esther's theft, Ada's accident, the schism in theparish, and her own numerous mistakes, were constantly recalled, andnever without a thought of the danger of being wise above her elders, and taking mere feeling for Christian charity.