! BERKELEY .IBRARY JNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA THE HAWKSHAWES BY M. A. BIRD AUTHOR OF "SPELL-BOUND," "THE FATE OF THORSGBTLL" ETC. ETC. ETC IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. I LONDON JOHN MAXWELL AND COMPANY 122, FLEET 8TEEET MDCCCLXV [All rights reserved] LOAN STACK CONTENTS OF THE FIEST VOLUME. CHAP. PAGE I. FUNERAL AND DEATH 5 II. THE CONSEQUENCES OF ADVERSITY ... 21 III. THE FALSE FRIEND, AND THE TRUE ONE . 42 IV. ELLEN BEGINS THE BATTLE OF LIFE. . . 63 V. ELLEN IS INTRODUCED TO THE HAWKSHAWE FAMILY 86 VL AN ASTONISHING PUPIL Ill VII. AN UNNATURAL COMBAT 131 VIII. A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR, AND A TALE OF HORROR 154 IX. THE DEATH WAIL. . . .. 194 X. WHY THE DEATH WAIL WAS HEARD . .212 IV CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE XI. THE GRAVE BY THE SEA 235 XII. LOVE AND LEARNING 254 xin. HOW ELLEN'S LETTERS WENT ASTRAY . . 275 XIV. REGINALD LOSES FAITH IN HIS TUTOR. A VISIT TO THE HERMITAGE 293 ' THE HAWKSHAWES CHAPTER I. FUNERAL AND DEATH. THERE was not a dry eye among the whole congregation when the funeral sermon was ended. Every one knew the sterling worth and goodness of their late pastor; and, as his old friend, who preached the funeral ser- mon, and who had travelled many hundred miles to perform this last sad office, gave his simple testimony to his virtuous life, beginning from their school days, and em- bracing a period of nearly fifty years, all knew that the speaker stated but the simple truth, and was not led into extravagant eulogy by the warmth of his friendship. VOL. i. 1 C THE HAWKSHAWES. The sorrowful assembly quitted the church. The preacher, after a short rest and much-needed refreshment at the par- sonage, was compelled to hasten back to his own parish ; and the widow and her only child were left alone. It was a lovely, balmy afternoon in Sep- tember; the gentle west wind, instead of blowing the leaves from the trees, seemed to woo them to remain ; the robin sang cheerfully, and the blackbird piped as merrily as though he had the cheerful spring before him, instead of dreary winter. Mrs. Maynard's naturally fragile con- stitution was so completely broken down by unceasing attendance on her husband during his last illness, that, though by nearly twenty years his junior, it seemed improbable she would long survive him. The painful excitement of the funeral, and the necessity of exerting herself to pay due respect; to the old and tried friend who had THE HAWKSHAWES. 7 been her guest on the occasion, had sup- plied her with a fictitious strength to undergo the fatigue of the day ; but when the rumble of the fly that conveyed the Eeverend Mr. Cottirigham to the railway station was lost in the distance, she sank quietly back in her chair and fainted. Ellen's loud cry brought the bewildered servants to her assistance, and by their united exertions the poor lady was restored to consciousness. " I must not give way like this/' said Mrs. Maynard, striving to appear stronger than she really felt, " you will not be able to complete your preparations, dearest, if you are called away so often to attend to me. I ought to try to assist you, instead of being a hindrance." "Do not fret about it, dear mamma," replied her daughter, " you will but make yourself worse by doing so. If we cannot get ready by the time named, it will not 8 THE HAWKSHAWES. be difficult to defer the sale for a few days." " The sale must take place on the day appointed,' 7 said Mrs. Maynard, in a weak, but decided voice, "for on the day after, the painters and workmen have orders to commence the repairs." " So soon!" sighed Ellen ; "then it shall be so. Sit you quietly here, dearest mamma, and I will manage everything." Two days before that which was fixed for the sale, Ellen had accomplished her laborious duties. Every repository for those odds and ends which careful house- wives delight in accumulating, had been turned out, and its contents examined. Whatever might be useful in the quiet lodgings to which she and her mother had resolved to retire, was retained, and the remainder distributed among the poor. Mr. Maynard had held the living for more than thirty years, and as his wife was THE HAWKSHAWES. 9 one of those careful women who, under the idea that it u may be useful some day," never throw anything away; and as her feeble health had prevented the wholesome clearance effected by an occasional active rummaging, the accumulation of useless rubbish during this long period was some- thing enormous. There were bundles upon bundles of old letters, possessing the pecu- liar charm of being of no use or interest even to the owner; account books that ought to have lighted fires twenty years before; piles of Ellen's own copy books, just as they had been sent from school ; and bales and boxes of garments of so ancient a cut that one might have been puzzled to decide whether they might or might not have been acceptable at the British Museum. All was at length completed. The auc- tioneer's clerks had marked and catalogued the furniture, excepting a few favourite 10 THE HAWKSHAWES. articles, such as her father's easy-chair, which had been removed to their lodgings, and Ellen had now only to support her mother's feeble steps from the home which had been hers for so many tranquil and happy years. Mrs. Maynard was sitting at the open window of her favourite parlour, looking into the garden. The window was deeply set in a thick mass of roses, clematis, and sweet briar, and the well-known perfumes stole into the room, filling it with odours as sweet as when their first blossoms opened with not more joyous aspirations than those of the faded and withered woman who now inhaled their fragrance for the last time. " I must walk round the garden once more before I go, Ellen," said Mrs. May- nard, rising from her chair with more acti- vity than she had shown since the day of her husband's funeral. THE HAWKSHAWES. 11 u Nay, dear mamma, do not attempt it now," remonstrated her daughter; "wait till you are stronger." u No, darling/ 7 said her mother, firmly, u when once I go away, I shall never set foot in my old home again. I could not bear to see alterations made by strangers in the spots that your father loved. I could not bear to see the shrubs that he planted cut down to make way for modern improve- ments. I shall always think of the dear old garden as it was when he cultivated it, full of sweet, homely English flowers, and the trees and shrubs, whose growth we watched together for so many years. I will walk round it, if possible, this evening; and that will be for the last time. I shall never come into it when it belongs to strangers." With great difficulty the sorrowing widow went through her self-imposed task. Ellen 12 THE HAWKSHAWES. had thoughtfully brought with her a camp stool, that her mother might rest herst'lf occasionally. u Do not gather any flowers now, dear mamma/' said Ellen, as her mother stooped painfully, to pluck a rose of re- markable beauty ; " I will run out again while you rest after this fatiguing walk, arid gather all your favourites. I'll not miss any, I assure you." u 1 can trust you, dear," replied her mother ; " but here is one that I must gather with my own hand; the latest bud on your poor father's favourite rose-tree. "When it withers, preserve it in memory of this day, my dearest Ellen; it is the last flower I shall ever give you out of the old garden." Ellen did not trust herself to reply, but strove hard to keep back her tears, while her mother fixed the half-blown rose on her bosom. THE HAWKSHAWES. 13 " I must go in now/' said the poor lady, " for I feel quite exhausted." With the tenderest care Ellen supported the feeble steps of her beloved parent back to the parlour ; the only room in the house in which the furniture remained undisturbed. She placed her comfortably on the large old-fashioned sofa, and having received an assurance that she felt better, and was only suffering from fatigue, ran out into the garden to cull the bouquet. In about twenty minutes she returned, laden with her fragrant burthen, and just as she re- entered the house a servant met her to say that the fly which was to convey them away was waiting at the door. With a sad heart, struck down by this last trivial incident, though it had occurred in conse- quence of her own orders given in the morning, Ellen went into the parlour. Another had entered before her. The fly had come with its rattling wheels, 14 tfHE HAWKSHAWES. and Betsy had hastened to announce its arrival. But an angel with noiseless wings had come into the house. It had gone forth again unnoticed. The rustle of its pinions dark when viewed from this lower earth, bright and glorious when seen from above, with the light of heaven streaming upon them had not been heard by the ears that were so ready to perceive the rattle of carriage wheels on the pave- ment. It had gone forth again, with another, a suifering spirit, in its arms ; and no one saw it. " Hush !" said Ellen, as she looked into the parlour; "hush, Betsy! Mamma is asleep. Tell the man to wait. I would not disturb her on any account." Poor loving child ! Thou couldst not, if thou wouldst ! Ellen arranged her flowers, and waited patiently. Minute after minute glided by. THE HAWKSHAWES.* 15 Her mother was not accustomed to sleep so long in the daytime ; but doubtless she was much wearied. " It is very strange," murmured Ellen ; " I hope she has not fainted.' 7 She held her face close to the parted lips, but she felt no breath ; she gently touched the pale cheek it was cold as marble ; she tried to raise the hand, but it was rigid. Only once before had she looked on Death, and now she hesitated to recognise his grim and unfamiliar presence. She flew to the front door. " Fetch a doctor !" she cried to the driver of the fly, who was improving the occasion by polishing the brass on his harness- " Mr. Smedley, if he is at home ; and if not, then the first you can find. Make haste ! Drive as fast as you can, and bring him back with you. My mother is very ill!" She hastened back to the parlour, and saw Betsy standing by the sofa. 16 STHE HAWKSHAWES. u Is she recovering?" was her first eager question. " Run to the door, Betsy, and hurry the man off ! How slow he is !" Betsy obeyed in silence. "Make haste for the doctor, Jim," said she to the driver (an old acquaintance) ; "it's of no earthly use his coming, but it will satisfy miss. Poor dear missis is gone, but it will be best for the doctor to tell Miss Ellen so himself; so don't, lose no time." " Betsy look here !" said the young lady, turning round a face of ghastly paleness as the faithful servant returned to her ; " do you think it possible that but I cannot believe it ! I am sure she has only fainted." " The doctor will be here soon, miss," replied the girl, " and he will know better than I can what is amiss. She's very pale, and she's very cold; but while there's life there's hope, you know, miss." " But what if there should not be life ? THE HAWKSHAWES. 17 What then, Betsy ?" said poor Ellen, in a sepulchral whisper. Betsy either did not or would not hear the question, but busied herself with the well-meaning mockery of administering re- storatives, until the arrival of Mr. Smedley, the surgeon who had attended Mr. Maynard during his last illness. "What is amiss with mamma?" cried Ellen, as the surgeon bent over the sofa ; "is it a fainting fit?" "No," he replied, shaking his head; " no, it is not a fainting fit. Prepare yourself for the worst, my dear young lady ; I can give you no hopes of her recovery. You have long been aware that she had disease of the heart, which might prove fatal under any strong excitement. I did not expect her to survive your father, even for an hour. That she did so was little short of a miracle ; and now this last grief of leaving her home has been too much for her. It would be 18 THE HAWKSHAWES. worse than useless for me to offer any con- solation at present, but you may rely upon my putting off the sale, and doing every- thing that is requisite to spare you every avoidable pain and trouble." He paused on perceiving that his words fell upon unheeding ears. " Tell her," he continued, to Betsy " tell her, when she is sufficiently composed to understand you, that she may rest perfectly satisfied that everything shall be attended to. I am now going to the auctioneer to stop the sale. I will return in an hour, and ascertain her wishes respecting the funeral." It seemed that the presence even of the kind-hearted and sympathizing doctor was a bar to the full indulgence of the orphan's grief; for no sooner was the door closed behind him, than Ellen uttered a wild scream, and threw herself sobbing upon the body of her mother. THE IIAWKSHAWES. 19 The violence of her sorrow at length exhausted itself, and her own strength with it; and when Mr. Srnedley again presented himself, she wore an outward appearance of calmness which he had little expected to see. When he talked to her, however, of the arrangements which he had already made, and consulted her as to those which he con- templated, he found her quite incapable of comprehending what he said, or of forming any opinion upon the subject. " Have you any relations to whom I can write ?" he asked. "You ought to have some friend at hand to act for you." This question was heard and under- stood. " Friend ! Relation !" she repeated, look- ing round with a frightened air, " I have not one, now she is gone ! Oh ! it is dread- ful to be all alone in the world !" Mr. Smedley was glad to see that another idea, even though a painful one, had dawned 20 THE HAWKSHAWES. upon her mind. She wept afresh at the sense of loneliness, and his kind condolence soon aroused a feeling of gratitude, that all unconsciously to herself soothed the in- tensity of her grief. THE HAWKSHAWES. 21 CHAPTER II. THE CONSEQUENCES OF ADVERSITY. IN little more than a week after her father's funeral, Ellen Maynard saw the remains of her beloved mother deposited in the same grave ; and on the evening of that day she went alone to the lodgings which had been prepared for the reception of her mother and herself. The sale took place in due course, and then, on examining the state of her ex- chequer, Ellen found that instead of the comfortable independence which all the town had expected would have been hers, either at her father's death, or when she married, something under a thousand pounds VOL. i. 2 22 THE HAWKSHAWES. constituted her whole fortune, for Mrs. Maynard's private income expired with her. Ellen was too unsophisticated, too free from all worldly-mindedness to think it prudent to conceal from her acquaintances the fact of her altered fortune. She suffered it to be fished out of her by one of the first visitors who called upon her in her new abode, and in a few hours it was known all over the town. She was made unpleasantly aware of the error she had committed, by the patronizing airs which some subsequent visitors assumed towards her, and by the humiliating freedom of the advice which almost all thought themselves entitled to obtrude upon her ; one indeed going so far as to hint at the usefulness of left-off wear- ing apparel. Now Ellen, though a gentle and affectionate girl, was a very proud one, and these things galled and chafed her more than she liked to own, for such a spirit was THE HAWKSIIAVVES. 23 not, she knew, in accordance with the pre- cepts of Christian humility which her parents had always endeavoured to incul- cate in her mind. " And now, my dear Miss Maynard," concluded the last-named visitor, after a great deal of unasked-for advice upon the subjects of propriety and economy, "if there is anything that I can do for you, only let me know it, and if it lies in ray power to befriend you, you may reckon upon me ; and I may as well just mention that we are going out of mourning next week, and if there is anything that would be useful, you know, and the things are many of them as good as new, and my girls are nearly of your own height " "I feel much obliged to you, ma'am," interrupted Ellen, swallowing a lump in her throat that seemed threatening to suffocate her, while her eyes flashed, and her lip curled, though she felt ready to burst into 22 24 THE HAWKSHAWES. tears, "but 1 have already provided the servants with more mourning than they will require, as they are not going to continue in my service." "Oh, indeed!" said Mrs. Minshull, very curtly, for she felt rebuffed, and though, she could hardly suppose that the poor orphan had wilfully ignored the drift of her benefi- cent offer, there was something in Ellen's manner that prevented her explaining her- self more clearly ; "then, if there is nothing I can do for you at present, my dear Miss Maynard, I will wish you good morning. Remember you may always look upon me as a friend. You are very young to be thrown, as I may say, almost penniless upon the world; and whenever you need it, my best advice is at your service. By-the-bye, my dear, I may as well ask you now what are your plans for the future?" " Really, madam," replied Ellen, almost out of patience, " I have not had time to THE HAWKSIIAWES. 25 consider for the future. My thoughts have been so painfully engrossed by the past, that nothing short of absolute necessity could have compelled me to pay attention even to the present. Of the future I have scarcely thought." "Well, my dear girl/' said the visitor, rising, " all I can say is, do nothing without consulting your friends. Good morning, my dear good morning." She departed, and Ellen sank back in the comfortable easy-chair now, alas ! her own and large tears rolled down her cheeks. "Friends! consult my friends!" she murmured u where are they? Misfortune has shown me that I have none except, indeed, Mr. Smedley ; he is a friend. And, besides 1 wish I could hear whether Lady Willoughby has been seen in the town for the last day or two. I did not like to ask any of those gossiping, patronizing women. Oh ! I must not say I am friendless ! 26 THE HAWKSHAWES. While clear Frank lives I have one friend worth all those I have forfeited by the crime of poverty. And his mother is my friend, too, I am sure she is," she added, with a dubious sigh. Ellen fell into a reverie, from which she was roused by the entrance of Mr. Smedley. The face of the good doctor expressed con- cern, and some vexation. He tossed his hat upon the table, and flung his gloves into it, as though he wished somebody's head were in the hat, and the fists of a pugilist in the gloves. Having done this, he took a chair in silence. " What is amiss, my dear sir ?" said Ellen. " You are certainly vexed about something." " Yes, my poor cKild ; I am vexed with you, but downright angry with myself." He had never before addressed her so familiarly; and the first suggestion of her sensitive pride was " And is he, too, THE HAWKSHAWES. 27 changed with changing fortune?" But also he had never before spoken to her so kindly ; and pride, as it deserved in this instance to be, was put to the rout. " What have I done wrong?" she asked, mildly. " You have let some confounded gossip get hold of the fact that you are not so rich as you were supposed to be ; and it is buzzed all over the town by this time." " I know it," said Ellen, quietly; " and at first I regretted it, because I was exposed to much petty annoyance in consequence ; but now I am glad it is known. It has shown me the true worth of many professing friends. I am saved the disgrace which I should incur in my own eyes were I, even tacitly, to countenance a falsity; and be- sides," she added, with a smile of lurking sarcasm, " it has procured for me the benefit of more good advice than I shall be able to follow if I live to the age of a hundred." 28 THE HAWKSHAWES. " I'll be sworn it has !" cried Mr. Smedley, laughing ; " and that, my dear young lady, tallies curiously with the petty annoyances that you mentioned in the first instance. Is there any connexion between the two, eh ?" "I cannot deny it," she replied; "but does it not seem strange that the fact of my being poor instead of rich, should give every person an imaginary right to direct and control my actions? And the diversity of their counsel, too, was most amusing ; or would have been so, if anything could amuse me now. One advised me to invest my money in a benevolent society, and live upon the proceeds in a highly respectable ladies' school to which she would recom- mend me. Another almost ordered me to place my little property in her husband's hands, promising a handsome interest upon it, whereupon I was to board in a farm- house in South Wales. A third told me the only thing was to emigrate to New Zealand, THE HAWKSHAWES. 29 and promised me letters of introduction to the principal clergy, including the bishop. A fourth recommended Australia, but warned me against America. A fifth asserted as stoutly that America was the only place ; and a sixth was for starting off forthwith to order my outfit, and secure my passage to India. There were but two points on which they all agreed." "And those two were? " suggested the doctor. "One, that the utmost circumspection and propriety of conduct was indispensable," said Ellen; " and the other that I must do nothing without consulting my friends, at the head of whom I was, of course, to rank the lady who happened at that moment to be favouring me with her advice." " And I," said Mr. Sinedley, " whose pro- fession it is to give advice, am now enraged with myself, because I neglected, or I should say more correctly, abstained from obtruding 30 THE HAWKSHAWES. it upon you, on this very subject. I was about to wanryou not to let your altered circumstances be known, but I checked my- self, thinking I had no business to interfere ; but when I heard the way in which these fine ladies talked about it, I was mad to reflect that I might have stopped it all by a few words in season.'' "It is better as it is, sir,'' said Ellen; " the few who are true will seem all the brighter by the contrast, and fortunately my feelings are not at all involved so far. There is not one among them all for whom I felt any affection." She paused a moment, and then asked, with some hesitation, if he knew whether Lady Willoughby had been lately into the town. " Yes yes I believe so," replied Mr. Srnedley, turning red, and hesitating, " that is I think not. I was attending her a week ago for a slight attack of influenza." THE HAWKSHAWES. 31 " Is she confined to the house ?" asked Ellen. u No 110 not now," stammered Mr. Smedley. There was something very suspicious in all this hesitation on the part of a man usually so frank and free-spoken as the doctor; but aided by her experience of other u dear friends," the orphan saw plainly enough what he kindly desired to conceal. Lady Willoughby was able to visit her, but held aloof. This was worse than if she had come, like the rest, with her budget of advice, for Ellen could have taken advice from her, as from a mother. This was indeed the unkindest cut of all. Ellen, it is true, had formed no plans for the future ; but she had indulged a hope and a dream. The hope was that Frank Willoughby a captain in the army, and now at Malta with his regiment would keep true to the faith he had plighted to her in more prosperous 32 THE HAWKSHAWES. days ; the dream was, that his mother, who had not found anything to object to in a marriage with the daughter of a clergyman, who, however moderate and simple his own style of living, was known to have saved up something handsome for her wedding por- tion, would not now look upon it as a mesalliance not to be thought of for a moment. Lady "Willoughby and Frank were the two ingots of refined gold which she had fondly thought would remain to her, after the fire of adversity had melted the dross away. The doctor's hesitation dispelled the dream ; but she clung with renewed tenacity to the hope. Mr. Smedley had heard rumours of the engagement between Captain Willoughby and Miss Maynard ; but he knew too much of the world, and of Lady Willoughby's worldly nature, to feel any doubt as to the THE HAWKSHAWES. 33 course she would pursue under the altered circumstances. And so, between his wish to prepare Ellen for what was to come, and his fear of inflicting pain upon her, he hesitated and blundered, and looked un- comfortable; and without assuming to be in the secret, and so having the privilege of condoling with her, he conveyed the hint, and expressed his sympathy, as effectually and delicately as the most skilful diplomatist could have clone. Perceiving that Ellen remained silent and thoughtful, he with- drew on the plea of professional business, and stepping into his gig, drove off to Willoughby Court. Her ladyship was at home, and received him most graciously. " Oh ! my dear doctor !" she exclaimed, with a great deal of affable condescension, " you are the very man I most wished to see I' 1 I trust your ladyship has not taken a 34 THE HAWKSHAWES. fresh cold," said Mr. Smedley. " What sort of night did you pass?" " Wretched! wretched!" sighed her lady- ship, in tones of the deepest self-commisera- tion. " Cough troublesome ?" suggested the doctor. " Not very. It was the mind the mind, doctor/' said she, shaking her head tragi- cally. " And in what way can I ' minister to a mind diseased ? 7 " he asked. " I think you can, my good sir," she said ; "it is all about that poor unfortu- nate girl, Miss Mayriard. You see her frequently, I believe?" " I have just left her," he replied. " Were you aware of the existence of a silly sort of romantic, childish affection, or rather I should call it flirtation, between her and Captain Willoughby, before he went abroad ?" asked her ladyship. THE HAWKSIIAWES. 35 " I have heard of it, certainly/' said Mr. Smedley, coldly, " but as a serious engage- ment, sanctioned by both families ; and not by any means as a romantic, childish affair." " Well, I must confess I was so foolish as to let it pass at the time," said her ladyship. u I looked upon it as a mere boyish fancy on Frank's part, that he would get over as soon as he saw a little more of the world." " And did not your ladyship take into consideration the effect all this might have upon Miss Maynard?" " Oh ! my dear sir," simpered Lady Wil- loughby, with an affected little laugh, " young ladies don't die for love now-a- days !" " I would not undertake to say that," said the doctor, gravely; "though I think Miss Maynard has too much pride and dignity of character to die, even if she were jilted." u Jilted, sir!" repeated the lady, indig- 36 THE HAWKSHAWES. nantly, " do you mean to apply that term to my son?" " No, madam ; for I have too high an opinion of him to think he will do anything to deserve it," said the provoking doctor. The lady fidgeted, and looked uneasy. Then taking up a letter from the table beside her, she continued, " Whatever your opinion on that point may be, doctor, I rely upon your preserving the strictest secrecy concerning what I am about to commu- nicate to you. I especially wish that Miss Maynard may not become acquainted with it." u Madam," he replied, u a secret with me is always inviolable." "I know that, my dear sir, I know it well," said the lady in her blandest manner, " and therefore it is that I wish to confide in you; besides which, you are such a friend to poor Miss Maynard ! This letter is from my son. It arrived yesterday evening, and THE HAWKSHAWES. 6i in addition to the awkwardness of ray rela- tions with the poor dear girl, was the eause of my rest being so broken last night." "I trust Captain Willoughby is well?" said Mr. Smedley, hastily, for he liked and esteemed the young man as much as he contemned the paltry pride of his mother. " Yes, thank Heaven ! He is quite well," replied Lady Willoughby; ."but he talks so extravagantly about his ' sweet Ellen/ as he calls her ! and he has even enclosed a note, with a hundred apologies for its brevity, as the mail was just closing. Of course I cannot think of giving it to her, under the present altered state of affairs ; but what am I to do ?'.' " I should imagine the course was quite clear,' 1 said Mr. Smedley ; " as your son is of age, and entitled to judge for himself, you have nothing to do, it seems to me, but to deliver the note to the young lady. 7 ' " But he does not know what a change VOL. I. 3 38 THE HAWKSHAWES. has taken place in her circumstances," said her ladyship; " formerly, though the match was by no means so good a one as he had a right to expect, it was not so outrageously bad. She came of a good family, and we expected would have had at least ten thousand pounds; but her foolish father chose to lend it to that speculating cousin of his, and it is all lost, so that I under- stand she has only a few hundreds left. It is really most embarrassing." " I never heard Captain Willoughby accused of being a fortune hunter," said the doctor, knitting his brows ; " and I neither can nor will believe it of him, even if his own mother says so. I presume that he loved Ellen Maynard's self, and not Ellen Maynard's money-bags ; and I am sure T only do him justice, and give utterance to his own sentiments, when I say that if he had heard of the calamities that have fallen upon her, his expressions of affection would THE HAWKSHAWES. 39 have been much more tender than they are; nay, that probably he would have written the long letter to her, and the note and apologies to his mother." "Sir!" exclaimed Lady Willoughby, an- grily, u you presume upon my condescen- sion in asking your advice and assistance. " "No more, madam, than when I give you a nauseous draught when you ask my advice on other matters," retorted the doctor ; u I counsel you, in either case, according to iny best judgment of what is rio-ht and fitting." <_/ o u You are a very obstinate man!" said the lady, forcing a smile, and assuming a playful tone ; " but in the present instance I really do not want your advice so much as your assistance. Will you give me that?" u I'll give no pledge in the dark," replied the cautious adviser ; " tell me what you want, and I'll tell you just as promptly whether I can do it or not." 3s 40 THE HAWKSHAWES. " I want you, then, to intimate to Miss Maynard, as a friend to both parties, that this foolish engagement must be broken off." U I am sorry that I cannot comply with your ladyship's wishes," said the doctor; " in the first place, as Miss Maynard has not taken me into her confidence, nor even in the remotest way alluded to her engage- ment, it would be very indelicate in me to begin advising her upon the subject.' 7 u But, my dear sir, as coming from me" interrupted Lady Willoughby. " But, my dear madam," interrupted Mr. Smedley in his turn, u my acquaintance with the young lady does not warrant any such interference ; and, in the second place, I could not undertake this very disagreeable office as a friend to loth parties, unless autho- rized by at least one of them. Now, my firm conviction is, that I should be doing precisely the reverse of what Captain Wil- loughby would desire/ 7 THE HAWKSHAWES. 41 " But /, sir," she exclaimed, snappishly, " / authorize you/ 7 "Am I to understand that it was your ladyship to whom Miss Maynard was to be married?" asked the doctor, drily. " Sir," cried the lady, starting up in a violent passion, and ringing the bell in a way that accorded with her temper, " I see that your intention is to annoy and insult me. I wish you a very good morning !" And, as if to show that the conference was at an end, and at the same time to signify her utter contempt for her visitor, she took up a book, leaned back in the corner of the sofa, and pretended to be wholly unconscious of his presence. The doctor, in nowise disconcerted, and with a curl of the lip that would have made her mad if she had seen it, so expressive was it of conscious superiority, made her a sar- castically profound bow, and departed. 42 THE HAWKSHAWES. CHAPTER III. THE FALSE FRIEND, AND THE TRUE ONE. As soon as the door closed behind Mr. Smedley, Lady Willoughby flung upon the table the volume she had pretended to be reading. u There is nothing left for it now," she soliloquized, " but to see the girl myself, and try to bring her to reason. It is very pro- voking ! I had counted so fully upon Smed- ley's help, and there is no one else whom I should dare to trust. Sewell, as a lawyer, would be the most proper person to employ ; but then he can't keep a secret from his wife,