^mx'-: r 1 ;K- < ElE Y '.:'Y Of FOHNfA )f-C^ ji^i^v t C trin^ ^ QUITS MACMILLAN'S TWO-SHILLINQ LIBRARY. Crown 8vo. Bound in cloth. By MRS. ALEXANDER. The Wooinfr o't. Her Dearest I oc. The Admiral's NNard. The Uxecutor. The Freres. Look Before You Leap. Which Shall it Be? By RHODA BROUGHTON. Cometh Up as a Flower. Good -Bye, Sweetheart. Joan. Not Wisely but Too Well. Red as a Rose is She. Scylla or Charybdis? Belinda. Doctor Cupid. Second Thoughts. A Beginner. Alas I Mrs. Bligh. ' Dear F'austina.' Nancy. By MARY CHOLMONDELEY. Diana Tempest. By MRS. EDWARDES. Leah : A Woman of Fashion. A Ball- Room Repentance. Uught We to Visit Her? Susan Fielding. By J. S. LE FANU. Uncle Silas. The House by the Churchyard. By JESSIE FOTHERGILL Kith and Kin. Probation. Borderland. Aldyth. Healey. The Wellfields. From Moor isles. By OLINE KEESE. The Broad Arrow. [August 3rd. By MARY LINSKILL Between the Heather and the Northern Sea. The Haven under the Hill. Cleveden. [J'dy 1T//1. in Exchange for a Soul. [Aug. Zrd. By MRS. OLIPHANT. Kirsteen. By MRS. RIDDELL Berna Boyle. George Geith of Fen Court. Susan Drummond. By W. CLARK RUSSELL. Marooned. By the BARONESS TAUTPHCEUS. Quits I The initials. [July 11th. At Odds. By MONTAGU WILLIAMS. Leaves of a Life. By MARGARET L. WOODS. A Village Tragedy. AIAC'MILLAN AND CO., Ltd., LONDON. QUITS A NOVEL ]\Y THE AUTHOR OF -THE INITIALS" U n t) n MA CM ILL AN AND CO., Limited NKW YOKK : THE MACMII.LAN COMl-ANY 1900 All rlghU raerccU First Edition, in 3 vols., post 8vo, 31s. 6d., August 1S57. Second Edition, in 3 vols., 1858. Third Edition, in one volume, croicn Sro, os., Jnmtary 1860. Fourth Edition, in one volume, crown 8vo, 2s. 6d., September 1860. Fifth Edition, in one volume, crovm 8ro, 6s., May 1864. Reprinted in December 1870, December 1872, September 1875, June 1880, Match 1885, and December 1891. Transferred to Macmillan and Co., Ltd., August 1898. licpriuted (^Tico-Shilling Library) June 1900. CONTENTS. CHArTF-R PACB I. — IN" THE MIDST OF LIFE WE ARE IN DEATH . 1 H. — A SHOUT PEDIGREE 6 HI. — DOWN THE IHirXE AKD UP THE THAMES . 10 IV. — LEOXOR^V XIXON LANDS, — AND FOUTUWIIU FINDS A GUARDLAK 21 V. — THE WILLOWS 33 \^.— .VX ENEMY PROCURES LEONORA AN ENGLISH HOME 41 Vn. — A CITY UNCLE 53 \in. — HOW Leonora's n.uie cvme to be shortened . 67 IX. — A PRACTICAL LESSON ON THE FORCE OF HABIT 7G X. — ARRIVAL OF, AN ADDITION? OR, .VN ACQUISITION . 84 Xl. — BATTLEDORE ANT) SHUTTLECOCK .... 95 Xn. — TO MARRY, OR NOT TO M.XURY, — THAT IS THE QUESTION Ill .Xin.— .VLL SERENE .125 .\IV. — SEVEN YEARS L.VTKK 132 XV. — RETURN TO GERMANY xmn TKN YEARS' ABSENCE 141 XVI. — FIRST MOUNTAIN EXCURSION ATTKMI'TED BY THE NIXON FAMILY . . 158 XVU. — PEASANT ARTIST.'^ .187 vVin. — A REMNANT OF THE MIDDLE AOKS 201 XIX. — ALMENAU 211 XX. — ST. benedict's and its INHABITANTS . 219 XXI. — THE MOUNTAIN MILL 233 820 OTHEU MATTEUS < MAI-TKR XXII.— THE CnAGS XXIII. — WAYS AND MEAJiS XXIV. — A RUSTIC STDDIO XXV. — ^TREATS OF MAJtRIAGE AND XXVI. — jack's first EXPLOIT XXVII.— THE WILD ALP XXVrU. — THE forester's BRIDGE XXIX. — A MODERN IDYL XXX. — post horses bring the idyl to a conclusion XXXI. — the ' BIG sausage ' . xxxn. — alpenrosex XXXin. — THE OLD CIIAR-A-BANC XXXIV. — PASTIME FOR A R^UNY DAY XXXV. — THE VOW . XXXVI. — WOODMEN AT WORK XXXVn. — QUITS XXXVUI. — PASTORAL PLEASURES XJtXIX. — TREATS OF DIFFERENT KINDS OF LOVE XL. — A HUNTRESS AVITII TWO STRLSGS TO HER BOW XLI. — OK GU^VRD XLII. — jack's last EXPLOIT .... XLIII. — THE BREAK-UP ... XLIV. — WHO WINS THE WAGF.R ? .... I-AGB 244 256 271 281 297 307 319 337 346 361 371 377 394 406 424 435 445 454 467 480 488 501 508 QUITS! CHAPTER I. IN THE MIDST OF LIFK WE ARE IN DEATH. The bell of the steamer tolled. A liissing sound of escaping vapour, and the gradual cessation of even the slight motion of a Rhine boat, informed the passengers that they had reached their destination for the night, and induced those who had taken refuge in the cabins from the heat of a July afternoon to commence a tumultuous rush on deck. Stretched on one of the sofas in what is called the puvilion, and perfectly unmoved by the bustle around liim, lay a young Englishman, apparently in a precarious state of health, and in such very deep mourning that some inquisitive tourists took the trouble to make inquiries about him. and, without much difficulty, discovered that he was a noi)leman returning home to take possession of his estates cin the death of his father. Yet great as had been the at- tention lavished on him during the day by most of the Englisli travellers who had become acquainted with his name and rank, tliey now all hurried past him without word or look, so wliolly intent were they on securing their luggage, and obtaining apartments at the usually crowded hotels. Two persons who had entered the steam-boat but a couple of hours previously, stopped, however, at the door, looked back and spoke to each other, but in tones so low, that no sound reached the invalid's ear, though, from the direction of their eyes, he had little doubt that he was himself the subject of discussion. Father and daughter they seemed to be, and had attracted his attention directly on their eutrauce, from the evident desire of both to remain unob- 2 IK THE MIDST OF LIFE served. The gentleman had tlie remains of considcrahle beauty of face and person, disfigured by an unusual degree of corpulence, which, however, he seemed in no way disposed to lessen, for during his short sojourn ii\ the steam-boat he had left the pavilion no less than three times to strengthen and refresh himself with souj>, beef- Bteak, and cotTee, each time inviting his daughter to join him, and receiving for answer a quick shake of the head, followed, after he had left her, by a still closer drawing into the corner of the sofa, from which she never moved, and a pressing nearer to the adjacent window, while she raised towards it, to catch the waning light, a volume of Tauchnitz's edition of ' British Authors.' Perhaps this last circumstance, as much as the mysterious whisper- ing of the travellers, had e.xcited his lordship's curiosity, for he concluded that if she were not English, she at least understood the language, and perfectly too, as her quick reading and expressive changes of countenance proved beyond a doubt. Certain it is that his eyes had seldom wandered from the face of the young girl from tho moment of her entrance ; and a charming youthful face it was, with its small undefined nose, lustrous black eyes, well-formed mouth, and high intellectual forehead partially covered by braids of raven hair. But it was the smile that had most of all attracted, for it was the brightest he had over seen, and the more remarkable as the general expression of the countenance was pensive. She stood now leaning against the cabin door, while her father satis- factorily proclaimed his country, by offering, in very good English, to secure rooms for the invalid, in case he should reach the hotel before him. 'Thank you — you are very kind,' he replied, slowly rising, ' but as I have discovered that this boat goes on with us to-morrow, I have made arrangements for remain- ing in it. Landing, or rather getting myself under way so early in the morning, fatigues me too much.' He advanced towards them while speaking, and then followed them up the stairs to the deck, where their perfect composure during the scene of confusion that ensued proved them to be e.xperienced travellers. They exhibited none of the an.xiety about their luggage, that put WE ARE I N^ DEATH, 3 the whole ship's company into commotion when the tar- paulin was removetl, which had during the day-time covered the innumerable trunlis, boxes, bags, and portmanteaux that had lain heaped together, not a few, as is usual on such occasions, without an address, or even the name of the proprietor. It seemed as if each indiviJual expected at once to have his property, and the murmuring, growling voices of the men mixed strancjeh' with the sharp, im- patient tones of the women. Many, though surrounded by packages of all kinds and dimensions, neither trusting their eyes nor memories, imagined that some- thing must still be failing, and eagerly watched each piece of luggage as it was drawn forward, while the different emissaries from the hotels thrust cards into their hands, and vociferated recommendations into their bewildered ears. Some oddly-shaped cases, that seemed to have once belonged to a carriage, were pointed out with a silent gesture by the Englishman, and then instantly seized by the nearest porters, while he turned to the invalid, and, taking off his hat, politely hoped to have the pleasure of seeing him the next day. A few minutes afterwards, he and his daughter disappeared in the long procession of travellers, emissaries, porters, and truck-drivers, who hurried towards the different hotels. An unusually brilliant sunset had left a bright orange- coloured sky. that served to render the chief buildings of the town still conspicuous, and which, reflected in the broad tranquil river, gave the warmth of colouring and distinctness of outline to the numerous boats and their picturesque rigging that are supposed to be peculiar to warmer climes. That recollections of similar places crowded on the memory of the traveller, as he stood alone near the rudder of the steam-boat, is possible, but not very probable, for Englishmen are not prone to meditations on past scenes or scenery ; it is more likely that he was thinking of home, and what awaited him there, while his eyes followed slowly the golden ripplo on the water, or rested in reverie on the lounging iigures of the sur- rounding boatmen. The colours of evening changed imperceptibly from violet to blue, from blue to grey ; but it was not until the landscape had faded in the twilight, 4 IN THi: MlUSr UF LIFS anil lij^'lits from the suburbs of the town began to glimmer redly through the intervening mist, that he turned away and descended to tlie pavilion. It is unnecessary to follow him. We have but to record that he was reminded of his dark-eyed countrywoman by finding the book she had been reading where she had probably placed it wlieu j)uttiug on her bonnet. The name written on the yellow cover was * Ni.\on,' and, though neither euphonius nor remarkable, it seemed to atli'act his attention in no common degree, for he repeated it several times, and then murmured, ' Surely a relation of ours married a man of the name of Nixon — yes — certainly, that was the name — and it was Harry Darwin's mother — the man a merchant, or something of that sort, who became a bankrupt, or — no — squandered his fortune and was obliged to live abroad — that was it. Harry never liked speaking of his mother's second marriage or his stepfather; however, I am rather surprised he did not mention this half-sister of his, whom he must liave seen repeatedly, for before he began to live in his yacht, he was continually making excursions abroad, and especially to Germany. I wonder is this the man I mean? My mother said he was a vulgar parvenu — parvenu he may be — vulgar he is not — and as to his daughter — one of whose grandmothers I strungly suspect to have been the black-eyed Susan of nautical celebrit}- — she is the nicest creature I have seen for an age, and may turn out to be a relation of ours. Let me see . lier maternal and my paternal grandfather having been brothers, we should be second cousins — or first cousins once removed — or third cousins — or At all events the name is a sufficient prete.xt for commencing an acquaintance with both of them to-morrow, and that I shall certainly do.' At a very early hour the next morning most of the pjissengers of the preceding da\', reinforced by many others, began to crowd noisily into the steam-boat; not one, however, descended to the cabin until long after the boat had left her moorings, and our traveller was given more than time to finish his breakfast in undisturbed solitude. Tapping rather impatiently on Mr. or Miss Nixon's book, which he had placed beside him on the table, he awaited the entrance of a group of English who seemed to have WE ARE IN DEATH. 5 rhoscn the stairs as the phicc for discussing the events of the ))revious night ; nnJ the words that he overheard jnoved them to have heen of no common-place description : — ' Dreadful — awfully sudden — enormously stout man — looked apoplectic — must have taken place just after ho v.ent to bed — the body was quite cold when they broke open the door this morning — the poor girl fainted — I saw her being carried across the passage to her room.' With a degree of anxiety and interest that surprised himself, he approached the speakers, and learned from them that ilr. Kixon, their fellow-passenger of the previous day, had been found dead in his bed about half au hour before they had left the hotel. 'And is his poor daughter quite alone?' he asked, com passionately. ♦ It seems so, but really I had no time to make inquiries,' answered a gentleman, endeavouring to pass into the cabin. ' Oh, I dare say the people at the hotel will do every- thing that is necessary,' observed a lady, apparently of a more inquisitive and communicative disposition; 'and, at all events, the young lady seemed to me extremely well able to take care of herself under all circumstances. We ioined the table d'hote yesterday, when we found that we could not procure a sitting-room, for you know it is only Germans or French who can drink tea in a bed-room ! She and her father were not far distant from us, and my attention was attracted towards them by the variety and quantity of meat and sauces devoured by him in the course of half an hour. Poor man! 1 did not know it would be his last dinner or supper, whichever he called it — nor he either, of course. But I must say, at a public table I should be sorry to see my daughters so perfectly at their ease as she seemed to be. The manner in which her father made acquaintance with all the people about him was quite extraordinary, and the young lady joined in the conversation with a fluency scarcely becoming her years, and not at all English I ' * 1 wish,' said the invalid traveller, languidly, * I wish I had gone on shore yesterday evening. 1 might, perhaps, have been of use. Going back to the aw — aw — town, what's its name? is aw — out of the question now, as my 6 A SHORT PLDIGUIilE. return home lias already beeu provokiugly protracted one way or aiioilior.' ' Very kiml of your lordship to feel so much interest about a stranger,' rejoined the lady, * but you may be assured the people at the hotel will pay the greatest attention to this Niss Nixon: my daughters were actually refused a room they particularly wished to have, in order to let her be near her papa, and the wliole household was so occupied with her this morning that we came away without breakfast.' Tiiis seemed to have been the case with many other passengers also, and a clattering of cups and saucers, and a hurrying to and fro of waiters ensued, which apparently disturbed his lordship's meditations, for he went on deck and watched the swift motion of the steamer, as, aided alike by art and nature, it hurried forward with the stream . the water widening, the banks sinking, and windmills serving as landmarks from the time they entered the territories of Holland. Flow on, river, as you have done for ages ! press for- ward, steam-boat, to complete your daily task — forward as quickly as your impatient passengers can desire — there is but one among them who in the course of the day bestows a passing thought on the orphan girl whose sudden be- reavement had that morning so unpleasantly reminded them that ' In the miJst of life we are in death.' CHAPTER II. A SHORT PEDIGREE. Though few people could be induced by the sudden death of a stranger at an hotel to protract their journey in order to be of service to the survivor — even supposing that person a young and helpless girl — a return to the town on the Rliiue, and a short delay there with the daughter of Mr. Nixon, will scarcely be objected to by any humane novel reader. After the body of the deceased had been •examined, and the cause of death ascertained, the civil authorities requested an' interview with ]\[iss Nixon, and questioned her respecting her parents, her age, her past A SHORT PEDIGREB. 7 life, and future prospect3. exhibiting very evident satis- faction on leaniinj^ that she had two uncles in London, was related to the Karl of Medway, and had a stepbrother whom she described as being of no profession, but a gentleman and a baronet. On being advised to write to this brother without delay, she was obliged to confess that she did not know his address — her mother had always sent her letters to him under cover to Loyd Medway, who had beeu his guardian, and who had also managed all their English allairs for them. She had never corresponded with her uncles, but had written to inform Lord Medway of her mother's death, which had taken place some mouths previously, and she had received a very kind answer ; her brother also had written, but had not come to see them — he and her father had never been on good terms. These few particulars had beeu in a manner extorted from the poor girl, as, scarcely recovered from the shock she had so recently received, she leaned her head weeping on the table beside her; but when, on being asked if she had money to defray her e.xpcnses to London, she silently produced a purse full of English sovereigns, they recom- mended her, without further hesitation, to the care of the landlady of the hotel, who was present; and after a whispered proposal to the latter to give her, in some more convenient place, the necessary directions about the inter- ment of the Englishman, they all withdrew, and Leonora Nixon found herself, for the first time since she had known her bereavement, alone. She instantly sat upright, pushed her dark hair from her pale face, seemed to listen intently to the sound of the retreating footsteps; and, when silence was restored to the corridor, she rose, and murmuring the words, ' Once more — 1 must see him once more,' left the room, and ran quickly towards a door at the opposite side of the passage, which she opened with a precipitancy that proved the violence of feelings she had thought it necessary to control in the presence of strangers during the preceding liour. In the doorway, however, she stood amazed, at first incapable of uttering an articulate sound. No trace of her father was there ; the bed in which he had died was deprived of all its furniture, and a woman with water 8 A SHORT PEDIGREE. and a brush stood scouring the interioi", as if death had infected the very boards. Strips of carpet hung pendent at the wide-open windows, from which the curtains had been removed, and ii housemaid was dekiging the painted floor with fresh water, after having placed the chairs and tables in an adjoining room. Somewhat startled by Leonoras sudden appearance, the girl stopped her work, and leaned on her long-handled brush, while Leonora advanced, stammering, ' Whoi'e is — is — my — father?' ' The room must be got ready for the steam-boat passen- gers this evening, miss,' answered the girl, evasively. 'Where have they laid him?' she asked, with assumed calmness. ' Surely, miss, you don't want to see the corpse again after being so frightened this morning?' ' I do wish to see it,' said Leonora, 'and you must take me to the room directly.' ' But I have got orders not to let any one into it until the cofTin comes.' ' Such orders cannot concern me. Give me tlie key, and I promise to give it back to you in half an hour.' ' I must first ask the landlady,' said the girl, evidently impressed with involuntary respect by Leonora's decided manner; and passing her quickl3% she was soon after heard speaking to her mistress at the other end of the passage. They then both advanced towards Leonora ; and after a few words of I'emonstrance on tlie part of the land- lady, which of course made no sort of impression, the latter proposed herself accompanying the orphan to take leave of the remains of her parent. They descended the stairs, traversed a broad corridor, and, to Leonora's infinite surprise, entered the ball-room. She looked round her with a bewildered air, while her companion slowly and reluctantly unlocked the door of ai» adjoining refreshment-room, and then silently pointed to a long table, where, stretched on a mattress, and covered with a linen cloth, the outline of a human figure could be distinguished. The windows were open, but the green jalousies so arranged that little light fell on the features, uncovered with eager haste by Leonora's trembling hand. If the A SHORT PEDIGREE. landlady liad dreaded being witness to a violent ebullition of griefi she was soon convinced that her apprehensions had been unnecessary. Large tears gathered slowly in the eyes of the youthful mourner, and fell heavily on the face of the dead : — alas ! that we should have to record they were the only tears likely to be shed for Frederick Nixon ! No bad criterion of our worth and usefulness in this world would be these tears, could they but be collected ; and not without deep meaning were the Roman lachrymatory and many funeral customs of other nations of antiquity. In the present civilised states of the world it has become a sort of maxim that of the dead we should only speak advantageously. The Egyptians thought otherwise ; and their post-mortem trials, where every one was at liberty to accuse the deceased, and the defence alone depended on the good will and affection of surviving friends and rela- tions, may often have found a place in the thoughts of the living, and prevented many a siu of omission as well as commission. Not few would, in such a case, have been Frederick Nixon's accusers, his sole defender the orphan girl, who. with the prospect of dependence on unknown relations before her, and uncertainty as to her reception among them, nevertheless sincerely mourned the parent who had squandered her inheritance and left her homeless. ^^ e regret the necessity of recording the story of his life, which, in its dismal detrtils. is too common either to create interest or serve as warning. His paternal pedigree had been of a more respectable than brilliant description, until his father became a man of importance in the commercial world. This father had commenced his career in the manner hereditary in the family, that is, as shop- boy in his father's old-establi>hed house in the city, and had wisely preserved through life h vivid recollection of having carried parcels to their destina- tion, and considered it an honour when permitted, in his tuni, to stand behind the counter and weigh sugar and spice for the numerous customers; or. on receiving an •order,' to make up with dexterous hand the various packages, and consign them to the care of his successor in oftice, the attendant boy. who had been especially com- 10 A SHORT I'EDIGlUiJE mandeil to say ' Sir ' to him. Beitif» \Yitliout brothers or fisters, he found himself, on the death of his parents, in possession, not only of an extensive business, but also a considerable sum of money : the latter he increased by a judicious marriage, and, beinjj of an enterprising disposition, engaged in succesbful speculations during the war, which raised him to a state of opulence quite beyond his powers of enjuyment ; so that the accumulated money amounted, by means of interest and compound interest, to sums of such magnitude that the shop was at length closed, and an emigratioxi commenced beyond the precincts of the city. He liud now an odice and warehouses, and when death deprived liim of his wife, he found no difficulty in obtain- ing the hand of one of the very handsome daughters of an Irish gentleman of wonderfully ancient family and distin- guished poverty, whose name, preceded by the euphonious particle O, satisfactorily proved that he belonged to one of the illustrious races said to be of royal lineage. In the course of time, Mr. Ni.Kon was made fully to com- prehend that a name is by no means so insignificant a thing as Juliet Capulet supposed it to be ; for his wife, ardently desiring to regain what she considered her proper jiosition in the world, made many and desperate efforts to rise in the social scale, and, as a first step thereto, un- ceasingly endeavoured to induce her husband to remove to the ' West End.' From the house in Eussell-square, pur- chased and furnished at the time of their marriage, he could never be induced to move ; neither would he give up old friends or habits, and to the last day of his life continued proud of having been Lord Mayor, and gloried hondfule in the title of alderman. The two sons of his first wife, born and educated while he was still a hard-working man, acquired his tastes and habits, and in process of time became his partners ; but the only son of his second wife, when rendered unmanage- able at home by indulgence, had been consigned to the care of, — • A clergyman, married, of much experience, with ex- tensive premises at the Wkst End,' who would ' receive into his family Eight Young Gentlemen. The course of Instruction securiug a solid preiiaratiou for the uuiver* A SHORT PEDIGliEK. 11 sities, ttc, ic, ic. The treatment of the pupils truly parental.' Parental it was in one sense certainly, for parents are almost always careless instructors ; hut while lazily con- struing Virgil aud Homer, Master Frederick grew healthy and handsome, and acquired tastes, habits, and manners that his mother pronounced exquisite, and which raised ex- pectations of future triumphs in life, the disappoiutmeut of which was spared her by an early death. With half a dozen of the ' eight young gentlemen ' Frederick Nixon afterwards went to Oxford, where he proved notoriously idle and indolent. Good-humoured and lavishly profuse in his expenditure, he was, however, uni- versally ciilled and considered a ' capital fellow,' and in this opinion his father probably concuned, for he paid his debts without expressingmuch astonishmentat their amount, was easily convinced that his son's talents were more of a military than civil description, got a commission for him in the Guards, and dying soon afterwards, used his plebeian privilege of dividing his fortune with perfect equality among his sons, thereby leaving them all well provided with what is but too generally considered the greatest blessing in life. The step-brothers, unlike in disposition, temper, educa- tion, and habits, dissolved partnership, and in the world of London seldom met again. Frederick, freed from all restraint, possessed of a largo fortune and handsome per- son, fell at once into the disorderly, if not actually proliigate, mode of life of his compariions aud nominal friends, and, without being worse than others, contrived to give himself an unpleasant kind of notoriety by the numerous foolish things he said and did to obtiiin tolerance, if not a posi- tion, in society where a total wantof coiniection nevertheless ever caused him to feel himself isolated. His etforts to remedy this latter evil were unremitting, and at length partially successful, when he persuaded Lady Darwin, the widow of a baronet of good family, and daughter of an Honourable Augustus Thorpe, to become his wife. It is true, her cousin, the Earl of Medway, did not receive his new relative with any demonstration of satisfaction ; it was even said that he had oot-uly pronouucedhim to be a weak- I'i A SIIOnT PEDIGREE. liended spendtliiift, and given Lady Darwin to understand that, in consequence of her marriage, he should consider it necessary to send her only son (his ward) to school without further delay. She resigned the youthful Hairy to the care of his guardian, and perceived not at all the boy's gradual but total estrangement, as year after year he spent less ol his holidays with her, and began completely to identify himself with the Medway family. Lady Darwin was still young and handsome, and for some years her career was as brilliant as apparently inex- haustible wealth could make it ; but Frederick Ni.xon had. even before his marriage, considerably encroached upon his capital, which, placed in the Funds, was completely at his disposal : and, totally averse to business of any kind, he continued to supply all deficiencies of income in the same manner. His wife, purposely kept in ignorance of the state of his affairs, thouglit not of making retrench- ments; and. in the course of time, was eager to plunge deeper into the dissipations of the world to escape from the society of her husband, who, after having frittered away a noble fortune in the vain pursuit of selfish pleasure and ostentation, began altogether to lose the good temper for which he had once been so remarkable. He became irrita- ble and restless, continually changing his place of resi- dence, and relieving immediate want of money by the sale of one house, while incurring debt, at the same time, by the purchase of another : and thus he struggled on until the crash, long foreseen by every one, took place ; when the sale of his effects, and his wife's resignation of thirty thousand pounds, his wedding gift to her, having satisfied his creditors, he was at liberty to retire to the continent, there to live on her jointure from her first marriage. They had lost many children while in England, but Leonora, born at a quiet town in Germany during the time of their first fresh grief, lived ; and the change pro- duced in their small household, and cares imposed on them by her birth, turned their thoughts into a new channel, and greatly alleviated their useless regrets. While, how- ever, Lady Darwin quickly resigned herself to her loss of fortune, and continued to devote herself exclusively to her child, her husband, suffering intolerably from ennui. A SHORT rEDIGHEE. 13 !iegan. by deforces, to indulge in the roving propensities common to liis countrymen wlien they have left England in search of a foreign home. As fur as was possible, too, he fell into his former habits, and squandered, and wan- dered when and where he could during his wife's lifetime. Her death, just as his daughter had attained her fifteenth year, left him and his cliild in a state of painful destitu- tion, and to the two brothers he had so openly despised in the days of his prosperity, Frederick Nixon was at length obliged to apply for assistance. It was uot refused ; each brother consented to give an annual sura of money for his support : and in order to be near England in case of pecu- niary difficulties, he had commenced a Rhine pilgrimage, uncertain where he should finally establish himself with his daughter, and contrive to live on an income, of the smallness of which he complained as only those do who have spent but never earned. His faults and follies were alike forgotten by his mourn- ing daughter, as she bent over the well-known face, and drew towards her the cold stiff hand that, but a few hours before, had, warm with life, pressed hers. The landlady's various movements of impatience — ^,iingling of keys, open- ing of windows, and displacing of furniture in the adjacent room — were unheeded by Leonora until she became con- bcious of the approach of two men, who, talking loudl}-, and walking heavily, carried between thenr a coffin of large dimensions. As they deposited it on the end of the table, they took off their caps and looked towards the land- lady for orders. Leonora shuddered, and allowed herself to 1)6 led from the room without remonstrance, receiving a chilling sort of consolation from the assurance given her that her father should be interred with all the considera- tion due to his rank. That this promise had been fulfilled she had no doubt, when, a few days afterwards, the bills were laid before her by the hostess. In fact, the purse of sovereigns which had afforded such general satisfaction a few days pro liously, became so greatly reduced in its contents, that she felt it was time to decide on her future plans, and, having bolted her door, she drew towards her, and un locked, her father's writing-desk. It contained even less ]\ A Snor.T PEDIGREE. /noncv thnn she expected, and some letters which shocked and grieved her beyond mciisure, for, from their perusal, she ascertained that her father had already considerably overdrawn the allowance made him by his brothers. His bills had been honoured, but the letter informing him of the fact contained, from his eldest brother, not only a reprimand of extreme severity, but a threat of retaining payment by instalments on any future similar occasion. An angr}' correspondence had ensued, followed by a quarrel, and Leonora at length discovered that she had been during the last two days unconsciously on her way to England, where her father had hoped, by his presence, to appease the ire of his justly-incensed step-brothers. Leonora perceived clearly, and at once, that her father had been in the wrong; nevertheless her dislike to her City uncles (for so her mother had invariably denominated them) increased tenfold. She remembered all she had ever heard of their purse-proud vulgarity ; called to mind the various anecdotes of ludicrous economy and ignorance of Aishionable life on their parts, so often related, most probably with exaggeration, by her father ; saw all, and more than all, she had ever heard, confirmed by the packet of well-written, business-like letters before her, and resolved never to apply to such men for assistance. Her thoughts naturally turned next to her step-brother, Sir Harry Darwin, although her acquaintance with him was but slight, and her father had done everything in his power to prejudice her against him, never naming him, when her mother was absent, otherwise than ' that self- sufficient egotist,' or 'that good-for-nothing puppy Darwin.' She had seen him Imt twice during her life. Once, when she was a mere child, at Heidelberg be had joined them, intending to enter the university there, and remain for a couple of years : he had. however, for reasons at that time unknown to her, resided with them but as many months. The second time was several years later, at Vienna, but he had then come to their house as a stranger might have done, and never without having received a note from his mother to let him know at what hour her husband would be absent from home. He had associated with people unknown to them, and lived altogether with Lord A SHORT PEDICr.EE. 15 Medwiy's second son. the Honournblo Charles Thorpe, who had just then commenced his diplomatic career as attache. This last meetinfj had occurred so recently that Leonora had been old enough to perceive the mutual antipathy of her father and step-brother. She had been disposed to like the latter, though he had taken but little notice of her, and had one day, when she was present, observed to his mother, in a slighting manner, that * her daughter was a thoroughbred Nixon, without apparently a drop of Thorpe blood in her veins : he feared he never should be able to consider her as in any way belonging to their family.' ^Vhen taking leave of them he had given his mother a con- siderable sum of money, telling her, without an attempt at reserve, that on his becoming of age, his guardian. Lord Medway, had pointed out to him the folly of increasing her jointure, as it would only benefit her husband, or rather encourage him in his e.xtravagance ; that he had therefore resolved to assist her privately, and trusted she would wisely keep secret his having done and intending to do so. With a deep sigh Lady Darwin had acknowledged the justness of Lord Medway s remark, and fully determined to follow her son's advice ; but a few days after his de- parture, when goaded by her husband's ironical observa- tions about the ' extraordinary generosity of her son. Sir Harry,' while he pointed to and pretended to admire some triOing gold trinkets that had been his ostensible present, she had confessed all, and produced, with short-lived exulta- tion, the money, which was incontinently taken posses- sion of by Frederick Nixon. He, however, in the excess of his surprise and satisfaction, had overseen a purse of Rovereigns, and she had not thought it necessary to point it out to his notice, but dropping it into her pocket with much of the trepidation of a criminal dreading detection, it had been from that time forward carefully concealed, not again seeing the light of day. until, on her death-bed, she had privately consigned it to the care of her daughter, with the injunction to reserve it for some occasion of imminent distress, and when all other resources should fail. Often, when her father was subsequently in embarrass- ments, had Leonora considered if the designated time 16 vows TIIK ItlllSE AND UP THE TIIAME3. were not come for lier to produce her treasure, as often had the last clause of her mother's speech deterred her. Other resources had been found, silver, furniture, books, had been sold, until, as her thoughtless parent observed with a light lau^'h, * They were at last travelling in the pleasantest manner possilde, with nothing but their respective ward- robes to care for.' The time had suddenly arrived when Leonora had no doubt as to the necessity of using the contents of this pur^e. She held it now, much diminished in worth, in her hand, and having counted the remaining sovereigns and some Prussian dollars, perceived that she should just be able to await the answer to the letter which she pre- pared to write to Lord Mcdway to tell him of her desolate position, and request him to forward an inclosed letter to her step-brother, of whose address she was in utter igno- rance. From Sir Harry she expected but little sympathy or brotherly love, and her whole trust was in Lord ]\Iedway, of whose kindness and excellence she had heard so much from her mother, that she scarcely knew whether she most loved or revered him. She carried the letter herself to the post-office, and before parting with it breathed a short prayer that God would raise up friends to her in her time of need, and not long leave her homeless. CHAPTER III. DOWN THE RHINE AND UP THE THAMES. The return of the post brought Leonora the .anxiously-ex- pected answer to her letter. Her eagerness at first im- peded her powers of comprehension, and she was obliged to read it twice over before she understood that she was without delay to repair to Lord Medway's house in Lon- don, where her affairs would be considered and discussed witii the necessary attention, and her plans for the future arranged as advantageously as possible. Energetic on all occasions, she sprang from her seat, tied on her bonnet while rapidly descending the stairs of the hotel, and went, without a moment's delay, to fhe office where places were DOWN- THE RHINE AND CI' THE THAMES. 17 to be procured in the steam-boat tbat was to leave the next niorniiig for llotterdani. It was not until after her return to the hotel, and the first excitement of acting for herself had partially subsided, that she again carefully and calmly peruseil the letter. She had previously not observed that it was written on paper with the very broadest of black edges, a mourning which it now occurred to her was deeper than that likely to have been considered necessary by Lord Medway for her mother, and for her father she never expected him or any of his family to mourn outwardly or inwardly. Again she examined the letter, imagined the handwriting changed — firmer, and at the same time more careless : but as she knew he had been ill, she supposed it not unlikely that he had employed an amanuensis. The signature appeared quite the same as usual, and she put it aside, packed up her clothes, and went to bed, resolved to sleep otf the cares and anxieties which crowded on her mind at the near pros- pect of undertaking, for the first time in her life, a journey alone. Such, however, was the buoyancy of her mind, that all her pei-plexities were chased by vivid surmises as to the personal appearance of Lord and Lady Medway, their suns and daughters ; and her last thought, in falling asleep, was of the Charles Thorpe of whom her step-brother had spoken incessantly, and who seemed from his account to be idolised, not only by his own family, but by all the world besides. The next morning Leonora and her antiquated carriage cases were carefully committed to the charge of the captain of the steam-boat by the hotel-keeper and his wife, who had shown her much kindness and attention during her ten days' sojourn with them. They remained as long as they could with her, and when parting put into her hands a basket full of grapes and cakes, hurrying away afterwards •vsithout listening to her thanks, and from the shore bowing and waving their hands and handkerchiefs as long as she remained in sight. • These strangers have been kind to me,' thought Leonora; * why should I fear that those on whom I have some natural claims will prove otherwise?' Of the kindness of strangers she had no further proofs 18 DOWN TIIK RHINE AND UP THE THAMES. worthy of notice for a couple of days. The route by Rot- terilam is that of home-returning families burdened with luggage, or commercial travellers : the latter scarcely observed her presence, the former did not approve of the appearance of a girl so young being quite alone ; and prudent parents frowned down the incipient attempts of sons willing to offer civilities to eyes so dark and face so fair. It was well for Leonora that she was in mind less youthful thiin in appearance, and that her knowledge of various languages helped her throngli the little difficulties which invariably fall to tlie lot of a solitary female traveller at the much-dreaded foreign donnne, and the infinitely more disagreeable English Custom-house. Her ideas of the vastness and commercial importance of London were certainly not decreased by her passage up the Thames. All foreigners should choose that approach to the metropolis if they wish to receive new impressions ; even those from maritime countries cannot fail to be struck with the endless rows of ships that form a floating world around them. The word foreigner, as applied to herself, would have been most offensive to Leonora, whose pride in being an Englishwoman, and admiration and reverence for everything English, were as unbounded as her ignorance of the manners and customs of the country which she pertinaciously called her ' native land.' Unwilling that even her fellow-passengers should suspect this to be her first passage up the Thames, she sat on the still damp, green benches in the stern of the Dutch steam-boat, a pei'- fectly silent observer of all that was new to her. Through a rather dense yellow fog she first saw the great ships of war; then more clearly the merchantmen in apparently interminable lines ; large steamers rushing past, contain- ing perchance persons and papers of incalculable import- ance ; smaller ones darting in all directions, filled with people and things of less note ; and many crowded with gaily-dressed pleasure-seeking parties. Innumerable boats of various dimensions and forms plied across the river from ship to ship, or supplied the latter with fresh provi- sions ; each and all afforded her endless interest, while from the colliers alone she turned away as children are DOWN* THE nniNE AND UP THE THAMES. 19 wont to do from chimnev-sweepers. It was Sunday, and she saw both ships and crews in their best attire. There was none of the usual hurry and bustle, and as the sailors leaned lazily over the gunwale of their ships, or descended smartly dressed into attendant boats in order to go ashore, she found more resemblance to other places and people than she perhaps desired : while the dark-looking wharfs, stores, and warehouses not a little disappointed e.\pecta- tions of the banks of the Thames, that partiality had un- consciously raised to a par wth the beautiful quays of southern cities of less note. All comparisons with other lands were soon, however, lost in wonder at the apparently endless number of ships, which, as they proceedf-d, seemed to increase, and at last close around them ; so that when the noisy escape of steam convinced her that they had reached their raooring-place, she still saw beyond her an interminable e.vtent of masts and rigging, with a dark background of massive buildings becoming gradually clearer in the rays of red sunshine that struggled through the slowly-dispersing fog. In the year 1840 there was no St. Katharine's Wliarf to facilitate the landing of travellers, and Leonora's contem- plations were interrupted by the arrival of the Custom- house officers. Her luggage was detained, her carpet bag, after a severe examination, returned to her, and having dragged it to the side of the ship, she waited patiently for an opportunity of descending into one of the numerous boats surrounding them. There was a great deal of shouting, and swearing, and pushing, and pulling, and loud dialogues carried on in a language unintelligible to her, though an occasional word made her aware that it was in- tended for English. An elderly French gentleman, who had been invisible during the voyage, having been drawn forward by the crowd, began slowly and carefully to de- scend the side of the ship, and when about half way attempted, in very broken English, to make a b.argain for the transporting of himself and sac de nitit to the hospitable shores of old England. He was, however, immediately somewhat rudely pushed forward by two sailors who stood at either side of tho ladder, and who then looked up with grinning faces to see who would come ne.\t. There was s 20 DOWN THE RHINE AND UP THE THAMES. pause, no one seemed disposed to follow, and Leonora, taking advantage of the open space, directly adv-anced. She was politely requested ' not to be afeard,' then fairly lifted into the boat very much in the manner of a package marked 'Glass — keep this side up' — deposited beside the Frenchman, and though the boatmen evidently expected and wished for more passengers, they were, in spite of their vociferations, pushed aside and forced to pull towards the landing-place. It was at a short distance further up the river, and they reached it in about ten minutes ; but as the French gentleman prepared to step on shore he was desired first to pay his fare, and the evidently much- valued sac de nuit drawn from his reluctant hands as a pledge for the same. He gave two shillings— four shillings — six shillings — and then looked with an ex- pression of astonishment at the impudent laughing faces of the boatmen. When, however, he closed his purse, and endeavoured to gain possession of his property, they waved him otf, and explained by words and the extension of so many fingers, that for less than eight shillings be should not enjoy the privilege of landing on British ground. ' Dat is four pour mademoiselle and four pour moi ?' They explained, with imperturbable insolence, that jooor or ricii ma'mselle must pay eight shillings as well as mounshier, and they seized her property also, to explain alike their determination to persist in their claims, and fully to explain their meaning, which they doubted her understanding, as they had only heard her speak French to her fellow-traveller. Leonora instantly paid the eight shillings, without an attempt at remonstrance ; and then, in better English than was perhaps quite agreeable to them, hoped at least that one of them would carry her bag and place it in a carriage for her. After a few words of advice to her travelling companion to follow her example, tjhe ran up the landing-place, and was soon after rolling rapidly towards B Square. 21 CHAPTER IV. LEONOKA NfXOX LANDS — AND FORTHWITH KINDS A GUAKDIAX. Only those who have travelled, and not unfrequently themselves remained stationar}' for some time at various places on the continent of Europe, can form an idea of the numbers of British subjects who, from necessity or for economy, or pleasure, reside there. The wanderers, scarcely deserving the name of residents, are peHiaps still more numerous, and to both classes children are born, who, educated and not unfrequently married without having ever been in England, nevertheless persist in calling it their native land, denominate themselves English, and think it incumbent on them to be peculiarly and even sometimes ostentatiously patriotic. One of these pseudo-English was Leonora Nixon. England was to her the land of promise, the home of her imagination. Her father had ever taken a sort of pride and pleasure in abusing foreign habits and manners, even while himself unconsciously acquinng them. He had impressed on her mind so exalted an idea of England, both as country and nation, tliat she supposed ignorance alone enabled her still to value what she saw elsewhere ; and his brilliant and somewhat boasting reminiscences of his life in London received too much confirmation from her mother's fond recollections of the same scenes, not to be listeued to with profound and eager credulity. During the long private conversations between the mother and daughter, it was especially the glory and excellence of the Medway family that had formed the topic of discussion — the worth and dignity of Lord ]\Iedway, the beauty ajid grace of Lady Medway, her enviable position in the world of fashion, her ciiarming children, the magnificence of Thorpe Manor, and even the humbler beauties of a villa on the Thames called The "Willows. Of her paternal re- lations, the Nixons, Leonora had, as h:is been observed, heard nothing that had tended to raise them in her estimation — vulgar, purse-proud, city [teople. She wished to forget their very existence, and pretty nearly contrived to do so 22 LEONORA NIXON LANDS, ns she drove nlonf? the silent, empty streets of London, internally applauding the evident keeping holy of the Sabbath day, and doing no manner of work, which the still nnoponed shutters of the windows so satisfactorily demon- strated. Her predetermination to admire everythi^ig English was, during this early Sunday morning drive, put hardly to the proof : there were no ojien warehouses, with their marvellous display of costly goods to attract her attention ; no bustling crowd to amaze her with its endless swarms ; no palace-like buildings, such as had been familiar to her eyes from childhood ; and as she glanced curiously up at the interminable rows of dingy brick houses, with their unornamented facades of three and four windows, she was obliged to recall to her mind all her mother had told her of the luxury and domestic comfort which could only be obtained when each family, as in England, possessed a house alone. The prospect brightened as she advanced westward. The squares were succeeded by long, wide streets ; buildings of some extent became visible in the distance ; there were occasional glimpses of the parks ; more rows of shopless houses, trees, grass, iron railings, and at length the cab stopped. A knock, and instantaneous opening of a large handsome door followed ; but although two servants became visible, neither moved beyond the threshold, and the cabman returaed to Leonora for orders. ' Ask if 1 can see Lady Med way.' The man came back directly with the answer, ' Her Tship has left town for The Willys.' ' Perhaps Lord Medway is still here,' suggested Leonora, getting rather nervous. She saw the servants look at each other, and then at her. and half smile as one of them answered, ' His lord- ship is in town, but not up ; he always breakfasts late, and it would be better if the young lady were to call again.' * Oh ! if he be but at home, that is all I want,' cried Leonora, joyously springing up the steps to the door ; ' I can wait until his usual breakfast hour, and do not wish him to be disturbed on my account.' AND FORTHWIllI FINDS A GUAHDIAV. Q3 One of the footmen now whispered a few \v01J3 to a servant out of livery, just then about to ascend the stairs : he turned round, looked deliberately, almost inquisitively, at Leonora, and then asked her name. Not apparently much enlightened by hearing it, he nevertheless opened the door of the breakfast-room, and requested her to wait while he informed Lord Medway of her wish to see him. Leonora was too anxious to take much notice of the room or its furniture ; she stood with her eyes fixed on the closed door, listening for the sound of returning foot- steps, which the well-carpeted stairs rendered inaudible ; but so intense was her attention that she soon after heard a low voice say distinctly, 'All right, Williams, take in the travelling-bag and dismiss the cabman.' A moment afterwards the door was opened, and she was respectfully informed. 'That his lordship was up, and would come down as soon as possible ; he hoped ^liss Nixon had had a good passage from Rotterdam : had he known when she was likely to arrive he would have sent a carriage : — begged she would breakfast without waiting for him.' All this was very satisfactory ; and wiUi a sigh of relief Leonora took off her bonnet, and for some time calmly watched the quick yet noiseless preparations for breakfast. They were, however, no sooner completed, and she was once more alone, than her uneasiness and anxiety returned, and after walking fur some time up and down the room, she threw herself into a chair, and awaited the coming interview with a sort of desperate resolution that enabled her effectually to overcome tl;e faintness that befell her as the door at last opened ; and advancing towards her she saw — not the iienevolent-looking, venerable friend she had expected, but the invalid traveller of the Khine steamer! 'Miss Nixon.' he said, in a low and rather weak voice. * I know you did not expect to find in me your late corre- spondent. Let me assure you that nothing but the fear of filling your mind with doubts, and creating useless diffi- culties, prevented me from informing you of my father's death when I answered your letter.' Leonora, who had risen for a moment, again sat down, struggled with her feelings of regret, diaappoiuted hope.^ 24 LEONOltA NIXON LANDS, and personal annoyance for a few seconds, and then burst into tears. ' I — I did not know that you had been personally ac- quainted with my father,' said Lord Medway : ' from some letters found ainonf( his papers I was led to suppose that he liad corresponded wiili your mother, and chiefly as guardian to her son. In fact, I imagined you in want of an adviser and friend, both of which my father would have been to you most undoubtedly had he lived. 1 hope I have not erred in proposing to take his place, or supposing ihat my services would be as acceptable to you as his.' ' He was my only friend,' said Leonora, iu a voice nearly choked by emotion, ' th-e only one of our family who ever remembered my name, or seemed conscious of my existence.' * And when did you last see him?' asked Lord Medway, leaning his elbow on the chimney-piece, and watching with an air of mi.xed surprise and commiseration, the uncon- trolled expression of li,er almost passionate grief. ' When did you last see him?' ' I never saw him,' she answered, looking up, and at the moment the utter selfishness of her sorrow struck her so forcibly that she compelled herself to overcome it ; and removing the traces of tears from her face, she stood up, and in a tolerably composed voice informed him of his father's kind letter to her after the death of her mother, and offers of friendly services should she ever be in want of them. ' I mention this,' she added, ' that you may not think I applied to him without a right to do so: his loss to me is just now irreparable, as it obliges me to apply to my step-brother, who, I fear, will have little inclination to assist a person he could scarcely learn to tolerate even for his mother's sake.' 'You don't mean that Harry docs not like you?' said Lord Medway. ' I once heard him say,' answered Leonora, ' that the name of Nixon would stifle any feelings of regard he might ever be disposed to feel for me. You have, I hope, had the kindness to forward my letter to him, and if you will now only let me know where he is to be found ' ' You could scarcely ask me a more puzzling question,* AND FOKTIIWITU FINDS A GUARDIAN'. 25 answered Lord Medway, smiling. * I forwarded your letter to my brother Charles, who is at Vienna : he keeps up a desultory correspondence with Harry, and generally knows something of his whereabouts — he believes him to be now at some place on the coast of Syria, in his yacht ; but when your letter will reach him is very uncertain.' * What is to become of me?' cried Leonora, covering her face with her hands, while visions of her city uncles and their plebeian families lloated distractingly before her haughty imagination. ' You will of course remain with us — with my mother, until you hear from Harry,' suggested Lord Medway. Leonora instantly caught at this idea. ' Can I go to Lady Medway to-day'.'' she asked, quickly. ' My mother is at present from home on a visit to some relations.' he answered, ' and only my youngest sister is at The Willows. I shall, however, have great pleasure iu taking you there to-morrow.' 'And why not to-day? ' she asked, a little an.xionsly. 'I'm sure I don't know. I aw — suppose — there is nothing to prevent us from driving there after we have breakfasted, and aw — been to church.' He rang the bell, and afterwards, during a tete-a-tete of more than an hour, they strode towards intimacy with seven-leagued boots, Leonora being perfectly communica- tive on every subject excepting her uncles ; and Lord Medway informing her that he had been a sad, idle, worth- less fellow ; but now intended to reform, and, if his health allowed him to winter in England, proposed becoming a pattern country gentleman. He evidently considered a regular attendance at church as a first and very important step towards the meditated change, and nothing could equal the gravity and decorum of his manner, as he ac- companied Leonora to church, and his attention to the service when there. She did not at all believe that he had ever been idle or worthless, and when he rose from his knees at the end of the Litany, apparently exhausted, tears of genuine compassion dimmed her eyes to think that so excellent a young man seemed doomed to an early grave! This feeling mu>t have been in smne degree particijiatcd by a large proportion of the congregation, if one might 26 LLONORA NIXON LANDS, judge by the looks of interest which reached them from the remotest corners. The carpeted and well-cushioned pews of the Chapel of Ease, as it was called, were occupied by a congreguliun who were all either sufliciently acquainted to speak, or who nt least knew each other by sight. Lord Medway's appearance with a young and remarkably pretty Btranger, in us deep mourning as his own sister could have worn, created quite a sensation ; more eagerly than usual was he surrounded as he left the church, more numerous than ever were the inquiries concerning his health, and plans for the summer ; the querists deliberately examining his companion while listining to his languid, negligent answers. To not one did he name her, to not one did he mention his intention of leaving town that afternoon ; but drawing her arm within his, increased their curiosity by murmuring a few words of German, and then sauntering slowly homewards. ' I fear,' said Leonora, after having seen him throw him- self at full length on a c/t«('se Zo«f/j 34 THE WILL0W3. 'Of course I shall,' he answered, 'and in the mean time she must sing to me with a pianoforte accompani- ment. I dare say she plays famously ! ' ' Not exactly — it is rather in an odd sort of way, for her father did not like to hear her practise, so she learned altogether differently from other people.' * How so ? 1 heard her playing some sacred music very nicely.' ' That 's it !' cried Lady Jane, ' she has learned theoreti- cally, and can go on playing chords and composing for herself whole hours together.' ' A much pleasanter kind of accomplishment for a private performer than rattling eternally at those dreadful fantasies and variations like Grace and Louisa,' oliserved Lord Medway. 'Tell her to come here, Jane ; say I want her to write letters for me, as I am too much fatigued to sit up any longer.' He stretched himself on a sofa as he spoke, and when Leonora appeared, pointed to a table beside him on which were writing materials. He dictated, and she wrote, sealed, and addressed, as he directed her ; the last letter was an order for a guitar with case, strings, &c., and then she looked up inquiringly. ' For you — to serenade me with,' he said, nodding his head, and Leonora smiled and folded the letter, with a slight increase of colour, that he thought became her exceedingly. The guitar arrived the next evening, and was carried into the garden, where, to Lady Jane"s infinite delight, Leonora hid herself behind a clump of trees, and by a few chords or a verse of a song, attracted the attention of all the passers-by on the river. At a later hour she played at serenading, too. sitting outside the drawing-room window, and recalling distant scenes and persons to Lord jNIedways mind by a succession of light French, sweet Italian, and melodious German airs. ^Yhen she re-entered the room he seemed to be indulging in a deep reverie, while Leonora, drawing a chair close to Lady Jane's, and unconscious of being watched or listened to, yielded without reserve to the gaiety inspired by her own music, and sang, laughed, talked, aiid related some travelling adventures with such THE WILLOWS. 35 huraour, that Lord Med war, irresistibly attracted by her amusing gaiety, moved uinicrceived his chair behind hers, and she was tirst made aware of his vicinity by a hearty fit of laughter ou his part that startled himself by its mirthful boyish sound. This had taken place very shortly after her arrival, and a slight sketch which she afterwards gave of her short but not unadventurous life, seemed at once to remove all barriers to intimacy, and their intercourse thenceforward lost every trace of new acquaintanceship. Lady Medway's letter announcing her intended return home, gave pleasure to Lady Jane alone — * She so much wished Leonora to know dear mamma, and darling Grace and Louisa, and then they could have some nice little i)ic- nics in the neighbourhood, and ' but here she was stojiped by Leonora asking anxiously if there were no mention made of her in the letter. Lady Jane had not observed the omission ; she glanced once more at it; and then her look of inquiry, though less intense than Leonora's, was turned towards her brother. His pale face became unusually flushed, and there was a good deal of nervous irritation in the manner in which he suddenly rose from the breakfast-table and said. * 1 have not yet written about you, Leonora, but I suppose I must do so today ; there is, however, time enough — and I feel better now than for some time past — more equal to the e.xertion.' He had ever found his health so impenetrable a shield against I'eproaches implied or expressed, that be never failed to use it ; and Leonora was not only silenced, but even felt great compassion a couple of hours afterwards, when she saw that lie had written an unusually long letter, and appeared extremely fatigued. Lady Medway arrived the ensuing week. She was what is generally termed 'a fine woman ' — that is, she was tall, handsome, and distinguished-looking, and inclined just so much to embonpoint that, with the partial loss of symmetry of figure, she had preserved a good portion of the freshness and beauty for which she had long been remarkable. Lady Grace and Lady Louisa resembled their mother a good deal in appearance ; they were lady* 1)0 TUIi WILLOWS. like, and had already enjoyed several seasons in London, wliich had given them considerable knowledge of the world, and what is called a plomb. They all received Leonora kindly, putting her at once Rt her ease by seeming to consider her being at ' The Willows' the most natural thing possible. She was very much pleased, and very grateful, and thought Lady Medway the most charming person she had ever seen, the most amusing person she had ever heard talk — especially wnen seated beside her son's sofa, her feet stretched out before her on a footstool, she related all that had occurred in their family during his absence abroad. She touched but once, and then lightly, on his not having been able to return home for some time after his father's death, ending by assuring him with a warmth that made no small im- pression on Leonora, that dearest Charley had supplied his place to them all, and that nothing could equal his attention to her, or energy in business of every de- scription. ' Charley was always a capital fellow,' murmured Lord Medway, in reply. ' We thought him greatly improved in appearance, too,' she continued. * I think him much the same as ever,' he rejoined ; ' very like you in face, very like my father in figure, and his manners all his own.' Lady Grace and Lady Louisa joined their mother in pronouncing Charley's manners perfect. ' Well, I believe he is pretty generally considered a gentlemanlike sort of fellow,' he observed, indolently ; * people even admire and applaud his eccentricities, perhaps because they are essentially English. For my part I sin- cerely rejoice in all his faults and foibles, as 1 should con- sider a paragon younger brother a decided bore.' ' Has he done or said anything to offend you?' asked Lady Medway, quickly. ' Quite the contrary; he has saved me such an infinity of trouble that I have forgiven him for having called me a lazy hypochondriac, and recommending a course of his onu rough exercise to a man in my state of health !' ' Perhaps,' began Lady Medway, hesitatingly, ' perhaps THE WILLOWS. 37 my dear love— a little exertiou ou your part occasionally might be beneficial to your ' • Do you, too. begin to consider me a malade imaginaire? ' he asked, peevishly. * Do you think the life 1 lead at present is agreeable ? I tell you it is not ; and if,' ho added, rising and walking towards the door leading into the garden, *if I could with half my fortune purchase health uiid a constitution such as Charley's, I would do it to-day, without wailing for to-morrow.' As he stepped out of the room his mother sighed, and turning to her eldest daughters, observed, ' Is it not melan- choly to see such terrible want of energy? His desire to be considered an invalid has become a positive mania.' Leonora did not hear the answer, she followed Lord ^ledway and Lady Jane into the garden, and began to collect tlowers to make a bouquet for the former, such as she knew he liked. His mother had since his arrival so com- pletely monopolized him, that for several days she had scarcely had an opportunity of speaking to him. When he now sat down under one of the willow trees, she placed herself beside him, and while arranging her bright- coloured verbenas and pelargoniums, hoped he could bestow a few minutes of his precious time upon her — ^.just enough to tell her if his mother would permit her to remain at ' The Willows ' until she received an answer from her brother Harry — she had not courage to ask Lady iMedway herself. ' It will be long before Harry gets your letter,' he replied, evasively, ' still longer before you can have an answer to it. Suppose you should be obliged to pass the winter here? ' ' I should be but too happy,' said Leonora, looking up with a smile. ' And do you not find it dull in this place, after the gay, wandering life you have hitherto led ?' ' Dull in such society ? Oh, no ! — I wish I could spend the rest of my life here.' ' Indeed ! and how much of that wish may I place to my own account? ' ' A large tifih portion,* she answered, twisting some bast round her bou(pet, — 'a large fifth portion. 1 like Jane 88 XHE WILLOWS. best — you next — then Grace — then Louisa — and then Lady Medway — I am a little, a very little, afraid of her still, because — because I don't think she quite likes me.' 'You are mistaken, Leonora; she likes you very much, but ' Leonora looked up anxiously. * She thinks you ought to have been more candid with me in the lirst instance, and not concealed the fact of your having two uncles living in London, able, and probably willing, to be of use to you, but who may now reasonably be displeased at your avoidance of them. She even fears they are in ignorance of your pre^nt place of abode. Is this the case ? ' ' It is,' answered Leonora, her eyes filling with tears ; ' but, oh ! if you knew how I fear and dislike these uncles ' • Are you personally acquainted with them ? ' he asked, surprised. ' No ; but I have heard of them all my life from mamma and papa: they are purse-proud, vulgar men; and in papa's writing-desk I found such severe letters from my uncle Stephen to him that I quite dread a meeting. It is true papa had overdrawn his allowance, and was rather in the wrong ; but under the circumstances the threats were so ungenerous, so ungentleraanlike, that ' ' Let me see these letters,' he said, interrupting her, and Leonora, throwing her half-Gnished bouquet and re- maining flowers over his crossed arms, ran into the house. She soon returned, and then with heads bent together they pored over uncle Stephen's epistle ; Leonora re- luctantly admitting her father's error, but eloquently com- menting on the harshness of the manner in which he had been reproved. ' It is the letter of an angry man of business,' said Lord Medway, folding it up and returning it to her. ' I believe, Leonora, the less we say about tliis matter the better What sort of a man,' he added, after a pause, ' what sort of a man is your other uncle? Gilbert I believe is the name.' ' Knther less disagreeable, but infinitely more vulgar, according to papa's account,' she answered ; ' but you see IDE WILLOWS. o3 the letter is a joint conceiu — he says, " my brother Gilbert aiul I," tlirou^^hout.' * True,' suiJ LurJ IMcdway, musingly, 'I must explain all this to my mother — it would never do — careless as Harry is, he would scarcely approve of his sister's being sent to people among whom we should completely lose sight of her.' ' My uncle Stephen's house is in Paissell-square,' began Leonora, despondiugly, ' so e.xcept when you happen to be in town I should be veiy far away from you and Jane.' ' And even then you would be very far away from us,' he observed, smiling, ' so far, that I refuse my consent to any arrangement beyond letting your uncles know where you are now living. Perhaps, however, in the excess of your patriotism you would prefer any residence iu England to ©ue on the continent just at present? ' 'You think,' said Leonora, *I shall have no answer from Harry before you go abroad ? ' * I am sure you will have none,' he replied, with emphasis. * Now listen to me, Leonora. You have very e.xalted ideas of England and the English, and I have no desire to lower either in your estimati'/n ; for this reason, and perhaps some others also, I do not wish you to go to Russell-square. On the contrary, I hope to be able to in- duce you, for my sake, to leave England again for some time.. My mother and sisters spend the winter with me at Nice — promise me to go there with us.' ' If Lady Medway have no objection ' began Leonora. ' She will be ?»»/ guest,' he interposed quickly, ' and you, Leonora, will be the same — for — some — time.' AVhile speaking he took her hand, and drawing her towards him looked earnestly into her foce while he added, ' But you must tell me that you will leave England without regret, that you can do so willingly, because you know that you will add to my happiness ' •And Jane's,' said Leonora, smiling. * No Janes,' cried Lord iledway, impatiently, ' you must think of me and me alone ! ' At this moment a low soft voice immediately behind them said gently, ' Is it prudent yuur remaining out here when it is so late and so very damp?' 40 THE WILLOWS. He turned round, evidently not pleased at the interrup- tion. Jt was his mother, who stood close to them. She might have heard the latter part of their conversation, but there was nothing in her manner to lead any one to sup- pose so. Her eyes were ii.xed on the dusky fog that now seemed to be slowly drifting along the river towards them, Avhile she added, ' One feels that it is September, and that winter is approaching. Let us go in and sit round the lire, the pleasantest place by far on such an evening as this ! ' • It is damp, but not cold,' said Lord Medway, rising. •Come, Leonora, you shall read the papers tome. 1 want you to acquire a taste for politics.' ' Let me or Grace read to you,' said his mother, ' we shall ourselves be interested while so employed, while to Leonora it will be an unnecessary trial of patience. She and Jane can take a walk in the shrubbery — the evening fog will do them no harm.' Leonora had no particular fancy for reading newspapers, nor did she fear the fog, so she turned back to Lady Jane, who was springing along a gravel walk with a small spaniel barking at her heels, and followed her slowly with thoughts full of having to leave England before she had seen almost anything of it — of returning to Xiue, where she had already spent two winters with her dying mother — of Lord Med- way 's unusually earnest manner, until her companion sud- denly ceased playing, and, snatching up her dog in her arms, breathlessly exclaimed, 'Oh, Leonora, only think! After all you may see Charley before we leave England I ' ' How so ? ' asked Leonora, with an eagerness and in- terest only to be accounted for by the fact, that, added to what she had already heard of him from her step-brother, he had been latterly the subject of constant conversation between her and her friend Jane. ' Because, you see, mamma wrote to Charley the day after she came here, and an answer arrived this morning.' ' Well ? ' said Leonora. * Well, I heard mamma say to Grace and Louisa, that she would write again and request him to come to England, if only for a fortnight, as she required not only advice but assistance.' AX 'enemy' PROCCRES LEONORA AN ENGMSH HOME. 41 * About what? ' asked Leonora. 'I'ra sure I don't know — something conceniing Med- way, I should think, as they talked of the necessity of getting him off to Italy without delay.' ' He has asked me to go with you,' said Leonora. ' And you will go — oh. say yes ! ' * Of course I shall, if Lady Medway have no objection.' * What objection can she have '? ' ' I don't know,' •Nor I either. Do you, Azor?' she cried, appealing to the struggling little animal in her arms, bending down her face and speaking with closed teeth. ' Can you think of any possible reason why Leonora should not go with us to Italy? No! you see he is quite delighted at the idea,' she added, when, having let him spring to the ground, he began to caper round tliem, barking with all his might, a3 if inviting them to join in his gambols. Repeated gestures of pretended anger, various grimaces and shakings of the head having failed to silence him, a chase began, and soon after the sound of youthful Laughter, intermixed with Azors sharp barks, reached the drawing-room through the still unclosed windows. Lord Medway became singularly in- attentive to his mother's reading — begged she would not give herself so much trouble — the papers were really not worth reading just now — scarcely anything going on at home, and nothing at all elsewhere — he believed he wished for tea — and — would it not be better to send to June and Leonora, and desire them to come in ? CHAPTER VL AN ' ENEMY ' PROCURES LEONORA AN ENGLISH HOME. Lady Mf.dway's attention to her son became from day to day more assiduous : she was ably assisted by her two elder daughters, and Lord Medway, constitutionally indolent, and sincerely attached to his mother and sistei-s. was exceedingly gratified, and only oi;casionally a very little bored. Some weeks elapsed without his having found a convenient opportunity for renewing his iiiternipte»l conversation with Leonora, though he had not unfrcquently. 42 AN ' ENEMY ' PROCUIIES LEONOBA in an impatient, pettish manner, saiJ. that 'He chose to have Leonora to sit beside him,' or 'lie wanted to speak to Leonora.' On such occasions, a place in his immediate vicinity was instantly ceded to her; but the attention then bestowed on the youthful guest completely over- powered her. Even Medway himself felt a sort of reserve creep over him, in the presence of so many appai'ently eager listeners. Lady Medway invariably laid down book or work, and whether near or distant, turned her face towards them with a benignant smile. Lady Grace pushed forward her embroidery frame, and Lady Louisa, with a playfulness for which she was remarkable, never failed to seat herself on a favourite footstool at her brother's feet, and kindly request Leonora to relate her life and adven- tures — •Whereof by parcels she had something heard, But not inteulively.' Leonora would not consent, however, and the conversa- tion was in the end carried on between Louisa and her brother, or Lady Medway advanced to the rescue, and allowed Leonora to slip away to her friend Jane or the garden, the first convenient opportunity. Letters of importance began to arrive from London for Lord Medway, and it became evident that he would be obliged to spend some days in town. He prepared to do so most unwillingly, tried to persuade his mother that it was necessary they should all accompany him, and received for answer, that she must i-emain at The Willows until various unavoidable arrangements, before leaving England for so long a time, were completed ; if the arrangements could be made in the course of the ensuing week, she would follow him to town without delay, or to Paris, should he think it advisable to precede them. For her part, she thought it very desirable that he should reach a warmer climate before the weather became wintry. Lord Medway said, he would ' think about it,' and did BO, perhaps, occasionally, for some days ; at the end of •which time a messenger was sent late one evening from London, to inform him that his brother Charles had just arrived from Vienna, had but one week to spend in AN ENGLISU UOMl::. 43 England, and hoped that he would leave The Willows and join him in B Square without delay. Lady ^leJwav expressed more suifuise at her son Charles's arrival than Leonora expected, after having heard from Jane that her brother would probably come to England, in consequence of a pressijig request from his mother. Her look of inquiry was answered by Jane in a whisper : ' I suppose Charley first said he could not come, and after all has managed it ; some way or other he always contrives to do whatever he likes.' * I suppose I jHitst go to town to-morrow,' said Lord Medway ; ' but, with Charley's energetic assistance, we may manage to start for the Continent in a week or ten days ! I dare say,' he continued, glancing towards Leonora, ' he can tell us something about brother Harry ; but at all events,' he added, turning to his mother, 'nothing shall now interfere with the arrangement for Leonora, about which I spoke to j'ou yesterday.' ' Of course not,' she replied, dryly ; and rising abruptly, she walked towards a writing-table at the other end of the room, and there found occupation until it was time to separate for the night. When leaving the next morning, Lord ^ledway begged his mother to follow him as soon as possible, told Jane she might take Azor to Italy with her, and then, turning to Leonora, hoped she had not forgotten her promise about going to Nice, and assured her that being at some place on the coast of the ^lediterranean was her best, if not only, chance of seeing her brother for years. When she looked towards Lady Medway. hoping for a word or look of at least acquiescence, her ladyship seemed altogether engrossed by some directions which she was giving to a servant about a letter that he was to deliver without delay to her son, Mr. Thorpe. Some few words Lord Medway then added in a whisper to Leonora — ' He feared he should find the time pass ver)' dismally without her, even for one solitary week, he was convinced he should be bored to death ; must probably he would return in a few days, and bring Charley with him — entreated her not to forget him — and made her promise to try and like him better even than she liked Jane ! ' 44 AN • ENEMY * PROCURES LEONORA Lconnia promised, and hoped he would hiin.c:j Charley to The Willows. And she did hope this with all her heart, for if the truth must be told, she had taken a sinj^ular fancy to the boy portrait of him that hung beside that of her brother Harry, in the breakfast-room. Often, wlieu she was supposed to be looking at the latter, had her eyes been ti.Ked on the miniature of the proud, manly-looking boy with his whip, and his dog, and his great grey eyes; and then, when Jane told her of his wild pranks, and his courage, and extraordinary strength, Leonora feared — yes, feared — she should prove ungrateful, and like him better, far better, than her kind and gentle friend, Medway ! Lady INIedway's silence respecting the projected journey during the ensuing week surprised Leonora much, as the intercourse of letters was apparently incessant. Lady Jane told her, in confidence, they were almost all from Charley, adding mysteriously, that he did not appear quite to approve of their plan of their going to ^ice for the winter. Leonora attached infinitely less importance to this remark than it deserved, and forgot it completely a few evenings afterwards, when at tea-time, a packet of notes arrived, with one for herself from Lord Medway. He in- formed her very briefly, that all his arrangements were completed, and that, urged by his brother, he had consented to leave England in the course of a few days — that he should not, however, go further than Paris without them all, and, therefore, hoped she would forthwith have her 'coffers,' as she called them, packed up, as he found it, impossible any longer to e.xist without the society and services of his charming little secretary. Lady Medway 's eyes were fi.Ked on Leonora's smiling face, as she stood by the fireplace and read these hurried linls. E.xplanation of some kind respecting the journey to Nice was now inevitable, and to promote it Leonora silently handed the note to her ladyship, who was sitting unusually upright on an adjacent sofa. ' It is a for';unate circumstance, my dear girl,' began Lady Medway, after a pause, ' a most fortunate circum- stance, that you so greatly prefer England to the Continent; were it otherwise I really should be extremely embarrassed at this moment.' AN ENGLISH HOME. 45 Leonora's face siiiJ moio plainly tliau licr \yoi\1s, ' I Jo not luiilerstand ' * It is a curious coinciilence,' her ladyship continued, in lier softest voice, 'that I, this very niorMin<4, received a letter written by your uncle Stephen, to say tluit he would send a — a person here to-murrow, to take charge of you, and convey you safely to his house in Fvussell-square.' * My uncle ! hut I — I did not tisk him to send for me — I have nut written to him since I have been in England!' * So I perceive from his letter, and I must say, Leonora, it was very injudicious your so openly neglecting such a rich relation.' ' But liis riches can in no way concern me,' suggested Leonora hurriedly. * It seems, however, he offers you a highly respectable, and a — a — comfortable home — one which may lead, in all probability, to the possession of future alflueuce,' observed. Lady Medway. Leonora felt greatly inclined to say that she would not go to her uncle, that she should greatly prefer spend- ing the winter at Nice — when it suddenly occurred to her that the announcement had been made without a word of regret, and that perhaps Lady Medway was unwilling to add another member to her family. Bending forward, she therefore said in a low voice — ' Yon do not wish to take me to Nice? ' * Most willingly, my dear Leonora, would I take you with me, if I should not, by doing so, deprive you not only of the protection of your nearest relations, but also of the chance of hereafter inheriting from them.' Leonora made an impatient gestuie. * Wliy not?' continued her ladyship. 'This uncle of yours is, by all accounts, so rich, that he could providfifor you without injuring his own family in any perceptible manner; and let mo tell you, dear Leonora, that I cannot do so. We all like you, for Jane you are a charming companion, but after having made you sacrifice your rela- tions, and probably considerable pecuniary advantages, what have I to otVer you ? Literally nothing. With two already grown-up daughters, and a third, who, in a couple of years will ako e.xpect to be introduced to the world. 46 AN ' i:nf..my ' procukes leoxora myself a widow, and coTiscqaently reduced in circum- stances, what could I do with a young person such as you are? ' She paused, but Leonora made no attempt to answer her question, and after a moment's hesitation, her ladyship, gently compelling her to sit down beside her, enlar^^'ed with eloquence on the same theme, ending by an appeal to her good sense, and an assurance of unalterable regard on her part. A good deal softened by this speech, Leonora sat for come moments silent and motionless, her eyes fixed in- tently on the floor. The necessity of resignation to her fate, and the certainty that Lady ]\Iedw.ay would not take her to Nice, had become so evident to her, that Lord Medway now reigned paramount in her thoughts. She feared he might suppose that she had joined in deceiving him in order to remain in England, and she continued this train of ideas when, taking his note from Lady Med- way *s hand, she murmured, ' What will he think of me ? what will he say ? ' 'Very little, Leonora,' answered her ladyship, quietly; •I am sorry to be obliged to undeceive you respecting Medway, but a — his wish to have you with hiin is a most reprehensible instance of selfishness — he merely wants something to interest him — some one to amuse him — and thinks you may answer both purposes for the next six months. I regret to say, this is not the first time he has acted in a similar manner ! ' Leonora did not quite comprehend what the 'similar manner' meant. She believed Lord Medway to be her only sincere friend, and was not disposed to resign him without a struggle. She could not understand why he should not be made acquainted with her removal to her nncle's, if the plan were so very desirable for all parties. A wish for further information made her ask to see her uncle's letter, and Lady Medway evidently prepared for the request, drew it from her pocket, placed it in Leonora's hands, and walked towards the tea-table where her daughters were seated, the two eldest speaking to each other in a low, indistinct manner, the youngest listening anxiously and following with her eyes all her mother's movements. AK EXGMSH HOME. 47 •There is some mi<5takH,' said Leonora, hastily, advancing a few steps, 'tliis letter becjins " Sir." ' * It is addressed to Charles,' answered her ladvship, without turning round, 'it was he who undertook and carried on the correspondence.' ' So,' thouqht Leonora, * there has been a correspondence, and my uncle was perhaps unwilling to receive me.' Yet there was nothing in the letter to confirm this idea. It informed iMr. Thorpe, in the very fewest words possible, that a trustworthy person would be sent to The Willows for Miss Nixon, who would not so long have been left there to cause embarrassment, had either of her uncles been earlier made acquainted with her address. • I think,' said Leonora, after a long and painful pause, ' I think as this " trustworthy person " will be here so early to-morrow, I had better go to my room now and commence packing my clothes.' * Oh. no — dear Leonora, no — wait until after tea,' ex- claimed the Ladies Thorpe together. * Jennings will pack everything for you iu an hour or two to-morrow morning.' *No thank you,' said Leonora, in a scarcely audible voice, but walking with an appeai'ance of unusual calmness to the door. A strong effort of the mind will enable most people to control the outward signs of emotion as far as they are expressed by the movements of the body ; to retain the colour of the cheek — to restrain the flashing of the eye and quivering lip — is however not so easy, and Leonora's deadly paleness greatly alarmed Lady ]Med\vay. She first advanced a few steps with outstretched hand as if to detain her. and then, as the door closed between them, hastily motioned to Jane to follow. Breathless the two young girls stood together at the top of the staircase. • Jane — I — wish to be alone — I cannot — speak — even to you — just now,' gasped Leonora. Jane's answer was a tearful embrace, from which Leonora released herself somewhat impetuously, and then ran into her room. Her thoughts, as she afterwanls impatiently paced up and down the apartment, were for some time quite chaotic: anger, mortilication, and disappointment predominated by turns. One moment she resolved to ^8 AN 'enemy' rnocur.ts llonora write to Lord Medway, the next Miislied at tlie mere idea — wislicd ^he had expostulated with Lady Medway, then rejoiced she had not done so. Suddenly an undefined terror of the meeting with her uncle took possession of her mind. Had he sent to inquire about her? or had her place of residence been notitied to liim with the request that he would relieve the Medway family of an — incum- brance? She feared the latter ; and what a reception was likely to be given to her under such circumstances ! The thought was dreadful. Overwhelmed by the consideration of her perfect helplessness, she yielded for a few minutes to a violent burst of grief, from which she had not quite recovered when Jane stood at her door praying for ad- mittance. Leonora for a minute or two appeared inclined to be inexorable; she employed the time, however, in opening her wardrobe, drawing forth various articles of apparel, and throwing them on the sofa and chairs in a manner to give the room all the uncomfortable appearance that generally accompaTiies the preparations for packing. Even after the entrance of her friend she continued her occupation with averted head and an expenditure of energy that someway began to impress her companion with a feeling of awe and dismay. Lady Jane's voice was very tremulous as she observed. * I hope I shall see Charles, and have an opportunity of telling him how very unkindly he has acted.' ' I rather think "he has only done what Lady Medway desired him,' answered Leonora, continuing her occupation without intermission, 'and I do not blame her, on re- flection, for wishing to get rid of me ; but she ought to have consulted me and let me make the application to my uncle myself.' ' That is exactly what Grace said just now ; but Charley, it seems, disapproved from the beginning of your being spoken to. He said nothing but your extreme youth could excuse your having come here with Medway, and that nothing but the strongest and most energetic measures would now insure your going to your uncle; and if given time even to write to Medway, the consequences would inevitably be most disagreeable to us all.' * 1 do not see how,' said Leonora, turning round with a AN ENGUSn HOME. 49 look of astonishnir'nt, anJ standing upricjlit before her conipiuiion ; 'for if L.uly >\Jecl\v;iy dec^lineil to take ine with lier. there ninst have been an end of tlie matter. I could not,' she added, petulantly, ' I could not Lave gone alone to Italy with your brother, could 1?' • I suppose not,' said Lady Jane. * Well, then, had I been able to consult hira, there is no maimer of doubt that he would have mediated between me and my uncle more kindly than Charles seems to have done.' ' That is true,' said Lady Jane ; ' but Charles does not choose Medway to mediate, or to know anything about the matter, for he has written to say that he hopes to get him oft' to Paris to-morrow, and then mamma must write to him and pacify hira with promises and plans for ne.\t summer.' * What promises and plans ?' asked lieonora. •They said something about proposing to ask you to return to The Willows when we come back to England, but ' here she hesitated. •But what?' ♦ Charley says that Medway 'a fancy for you will be long over by that time.* Leonora could not or would not believe this. She clung to the idea of Lord Medway 's regard as the drowning mariner to the floating wreck, thoughtless of the force of the surrounding waves, and hoping against reason. Lady Jane continued sorrowfully — * From the day that I heard of Charles's disapproval of our winter plans I was sure that another arrangement would be made. In his letter to mamma this evening he Bays that from some conversations he has had with Medway, he e.xpects to find him troublesome at Paris, but by dint of ridicule and judicious procrastination, ho has no doubt all will be right in a few weeks. • I cannot understand what all this means,' said Leonora, with a puzzled air; 'Lady ^ledway's reasons for not wishing me to reside with her are quite within my cora- }ireiicnsion : but why Cliarlcs, who has not yet seen ni", should so dislike me, is wliat 1 sha.'l never be able to make out.' 8 50 AN 'ENEMY ' PROCUr.ES LEONORA * Or I either,' said Jane : * but he says expressly in his last letter that niamnia must he firm, and ratlier syicndthe winter in England than consent to take you with her to Nice.' At that moment a feeling of strong resentment sprang up in Leonora's mind against Charles Thorpe. A positive personal dislike to him for what she considered his officious and unkind inierference in her afTairs. She pictured him to herself as a stern arbiter of her fate, an intriguing, calculating man of the world ; in short, her secret, power- ful, and implacable enemy ; and, though siie wished him no actual evil, the wild desire presented itself that she might in the course of her life have an opportunity of making him feel, if only for a short time, as acute mortification as she had suffered that evening. It was a vague wish, prompted by anger, and without a thought of intervening obstacles ; yet slie remembered it years afterwards, when experience had taught her to understand the motives of his conduct, and knowledge of the world and its ways, made her judge him rather more leniently. ♦Jane,' she said slowly, 'all this manoeuvring and writing was most unnecessary. A few rational words from Lady Medway, such as she spoke this evening, would at any time have been sufficient to have induced me to apply to my uncle, and leave The Willows voluntarily.' • Charles did not choose to have it so,' murmured Jane. Leonora shrugged her shoulders, and began in an absent manner, to collect her books. ' I believe, Jane,' she said at length, looking round her with some dismay at the disorder she had created in the room, ' I believe, after all, it will be better to let Jennings pack up all these things for me to-morrow morning.' ' Oh, much better ! and now, dear, you will come down to tea, won't you? Mamma is so sorry, you can't think ! ' ♦ I must hope, and not think, for the next twenty-four hours,' said Leonora, making an effort to appear cheerful. *Asto going downstairs, and talking on indifferent sub- jects, after all that has occurred this evening — that is beyond my power ; so you may say good night for me : I wish you "could say good-bye. also, and that I were now far, far away from The Willows ! ' AN ENGLISH IIOMK. 51 • Oh ! Leonora,' cried Jane, vainly endeavourinj» to restrain her tears, * I cannot bear to think of your leaving us ! but we shall continue friends for ever, promise me that at least.' Leonora warmly gave the assurance required. * And when we go to town,' continued Jane, * I shall be sure to see you and spend hours with you — and I shall write to you — oh, that puts me in mind — niamnia desired me to iind out if you intended to write to Medway.' 'No,' said Leonora, '1 leave it to you to explain this affair to him, and tlien — perhaps — he may write to me. I wish, with all my heart, I had never come here — but there is no use in thinking of that now. Good niglit.' The door closed, and Leonora was once more alone, and how confused and unhappy only those can know who have been in their youth homeless, and uncM'emoniously for- warded from one house to another. For some time a feeling of utter desolation, a sensation of even more com- plete loneliness befell her than when first, an orphan and among strangers, she had written the short formal letters to her uncles, and the long e.xplanatory one to Lord jMedway, on whom all her hopes then centered. What would he have been to her had he lived ? Would Charles have dared to — but why complain — his successor had proved as willing to befriend her as she could have desired : it was the unexpected opposition on the part of his brother and mother that now made him unable to do so. And then hope began to whisper that he would not desert her completely, that he would write to her ; perhaps even return to England, if only for the purpose of securing her a pleasanter position in her uncle's house. Had he not said repeatedly that he liked her better than any of his sisters ? — told her never to doubt his interest in all that concerned her? and assured her that his father's ofVcr of protection should be carried into action by him in the most surprising and satisfactory manner? Some doubts of his power to do this just now were reluc- tantly admitted ; but with all the careless conlidence of youth and inexperience, she dwelt long on the chance of being invited, kindly and willingly invited, to spend the ensuing summer at Tiie Willows. That Lord Medwaj 52 AN 'enemy' procures LEONORA AN ENGLISH HOME. would Still desire it she felt sure, and she took it for granted that by that time slie should have sulFiciently con- ciliated both her uncles to satisfy even Lady I\Ied\vay's scruples. In short, were the dreaded interviews with her relations once over, she believed she should, after all, have no very gi'eat objection to spend, on any terms, the winter in London — it would be something so novel, so interesting to her ! Openijig a guide-book that lay on the talile, she spread out the map of London before her and studied it attentively, until she had her finger on llussell-square. It seemed to her just the central sort of place for seeing and hearing evei-ylhing. Yes; she should see West- minster Abbey and St. Paul's, the Docks, the Tunnel, the Zoological Gardens, the Tower, and the ]\Iuscum ! It was so odd that her mother had lived so long in London and had never been to see the Museum ! She could not expect her uncle to go everywhere with her — he was too old, past sixty she believed — but his son Arthur here Leonora sighed, and wished she were going to her uncle Gilbert, who had a daugliter or daughters about her own age — vulgar most probably — but she believed she could like any one now who would receive and treat her kindly. Yet even while this humble thought passed through her mind, appalling visions of corpulent, red-faced, loud-voiced uncles, with shopmen-looking sons, rose vividly before her imagination, which, it has been already observed, was of the most fertile description ; and the forms, when they had acquired gignitic proportions, were in their turn chased, phantasmagoria-like, by painfully contrast- ing groups of tall, graceful, gentle-mannered Thorpes. Among these, however, Charles at length stood so pro. minent, that anger effectually put to flight all the in- truding phantoms ; her pride was roused, and, starting from her chair, she resolved whatever her fears for the future might be, to conceal them ; not even to Jane would she breathe a word of complaint, or show a particle of the deep regret with which she left a family, whose habits and manners were so congenial to her own ; and her thoughts centered, during the greater part of a sleepless night, iu the consideration of how she could now leave The Willows with at least a semblance of dignity. 53 CHAPTER VII. A CITY UNCLE. Leonora's composure the next morning surprised Ladv ^leilway not a little. The arrangement of her. clothes, and the hasty finishing of some trilling fimcy-work which she had undertaken for Jane and her sisters, seemed to occupy her so completely, that she appeared quite unconscious of the grave faces around her, or even Jane's tearful eyes, as she followed her from place to place with Azor in her arms : bestowing on the dog the caresses she no longer ventured to offer Leonora, who seemed to have changed in some strange manner during the night. Yet once more their eyes met with the wonted look of intelligence, and a mutual sympathetic paleness overspread their features as the carriage was announced which was to separate them for a time — nominally indefinite, but which both, with anxious forebodings, feared for that reason might prove long. Lady Medway desired to see the * person ' who was to take charge of Miss Ni.xon : and as Leonora left the room to prepare for her jouniey, she stopped for a few minutes in the hall to look at the monstrous yellow carriage sent by her uncle, and the strange figure that descended from it. She had been closely followed by Jane ; and, under almost any other circumstances, laughter would have been irre- pressible on their parts; but all inclination to gaiety wa'^ subdued by grief, and merely an expression of wonder pervaded the countenances of the young girls, as their eyes followed the thin form of the elderly woman, who tripped rather than walked across the hall. A glimpse of her face had shown them a pair of prominent, restless, dark eyes, a nose of large yet sharp proportions, sliglitly inclining to the left, and partaking au)j)ly of the dappled colours that flushed her cheeks, and all surrounded by a cap of in- numerable lace frills, pressed down upon her forehead by a bonnet of amazing proportions, and in form resembling a coal-scuttle — the date of fabrication was beyond the recol- lection of eitl>er Leonora or Jane ; and the extreme fresh- ness of the materials for a moment staggered their judg- ment, and made them fear it was some terrible importation 54 A CUT L'NCJ.K. from beyond the Channel, which they and every one must, in tlie course of time, copy and adopt. It was a relief to their mind when the removal of a muffling cloak disclosed a black silk dress, fresh as the bonnet, but which, even to their youthful eyes, betrayed its age in those unmistakable ciphers — the sleeves. Old as was that gown, the folds from the shop might still be distinctly traced in its thick rustling plaits : it was a curious fact, the cause of which was made but too evident to Leonora at a later period. While her bags and boxes were being placed in and out- side the carriage, she put on her bonnet ; and on return- ing to the hall was met by Lady Medway, who, with a slightly-flushed face, turned to her and said, ' I hoped you would have been able to remain until after luncheon, but this — a — person — says that she has received directions to avoid all delay here, and is to stop at the Toy in Hampton Court to rest the horses. I suppose your uncle's orders must be obeyed, dear girl.' ' Oh, of course ! ' answered Leonora, breathing quickly, as they all advanced to take leave of her. Jane, in an agony of grief, laid Azor in her arms, and with difficulty articulated, ' Keep him for my sake.' The gift was already accepted with eager gratitude, when the ' person ' interfered, observing that ' Mr. Nixoii could not abide dogs, which certainly were 'orrid hanimals in a town 'ouse.' Leonora I'eluctantly resigned the proffered treasure, and Azor displayed considerable enjoyment at recovering the liberty of which he had been deprived for so long a time in order to be ready when required for the meditated sacrifice to friendship. Turning hastily away, Leonora entered the carriage ; and then, leaning back in a corner, remained silent and motion- less, until, on arriving at Hampton Court, her companion proposed having luncheon and walking in the palace garden. Leonora declined both, and was left unceremoniously enough to sit alone with her luggage, her feet on the op- posite seat, her head bent on her clasped hands. How long she thus remained she had not the least idea; for, in complete oblivion of all around her, she had lived over again in thought the last two months of her life, re- A CITV UNCLE. calling, with an accuracy sharpened by regret, all she had seen, and heard, and felt during that time. Pleasant were the recollections of the various afternoon tea-parties beneath the willows with Jane and her brother; interesting the drives with Lady Medway in the neighbourhood, where people and scenery were equuUy sti"aiige and new to her. A certain small dog cemetery at one place they had visited rose distinctly before her; for among the graves of pet pugs and poodles she and Lord ^ledway had spoken of the contrast between German and English churchyards — the pious remembrance of lost friends displayed in the carefully- cultivated graves of one country, the apparent forgetfulness, in the neglect of them, so common in the other. Her description of a foreign village churchyard he had called poetical prose, while she had obstinately refused to believe his perhaps exaggerated account of some Loudon burial- places. Then there had been quiet boating-parties to neighbouring villas, whence friends of the Medways came for them in their own wherries: expert and handsome boatmen, who had all been, as Leonora ingeniously expressed it, ' extremely kind to her.' She was in the midst of an excursion to Claremont, then untenanted by royalty, was in imagination standing before the picture of the Princess Charlotte in the dining-room, the white satin, well-fitting shoes again provokingly attracting her attention, when — the horses were led out to be put to, the carriage door was opened, and her travelling companion entered, apparently greatly refreshed by her luncheon. She carried in her hand a paper bag, filled with tempting-looking biscuits, which Leonora, who had breakfasted very slightly, found it impossible to refuse, and they formed the commence- ment of a conversation, that gradually, from a description of the excellent mutton-chops to be had at Hampton Court, led to an enumeration of the things most suitable for luncheons; dinners followed, and market prices, until Leonora had no longer a shadow of doultt that she was enjoying the society of her uncle's housekeeper, or cook, or both united in the person of Mrs. Ducker, which she now learned was the name of her companion. Indeed, ^Irs. Ducker, who probably saw no reason for either couccalmeut or silence ou the present occasion. 56 A CITY UNCLB. informed her soon afteiwaicls, at some length, that she had risen to her present liigh position in I\Ir. Nixon's family from having been nurse to his only son, Arthur (so named after the Duke of Wellington, who, however, she believed, was not his real godfather). Arthur she loved as if he were her own child ; she might say, indeed, that she had been a mother to him since Mrs. Xi.von's death ; and he never forgot her — never came home from foreign parts without bringing her a handsome silk dress. The bonnet she then wore was from Paris, given to her by him, and was so well made that it was quite as good as new after years' and years' wearing: but then, to be sure, she took remarkablv great care of her clothes. Here an admonitory glance was darted at the unconscious Leonora, who while crunching her biscuits, was carelessly lounging in the corner, and allowing her crape bonnet and its light decorations to rub against the side of the carriage. ' I wonder my uncle did not marry again,' observed Leonora, on whom the history of the bonnet had made but little impression. 'Why should he?' asked Mrs. Ducker, rather tartly. ' I was there to take charge of the 'ousekeeping. Our Arthur had gone to school, the little girl died of the measles, and Missus was after all but a poor thing, always unealthy, and the doctor never out of the 'ouse as long as she lived. Master had no fancy to take another wife — never thought of such a thing, I 'm sure ! ' ' He is ver}' old now, is he not ? ' asked Leonora. ' Between si.xty and sevent\',' answered her companion, thoughtfully ; ' they said he was past thirty when Arthur was born.' ' So Arthur is also quite old ! ' exclaimed Leonora with a look of disappointment. ' A vian is young at thirty, Miss Leonora, and your cousin is young and 'andsome too, though he 'as red 'air like his mother.' ' Ked hair ! oh, now I am sure I shall neve-r be able even to tolerate him,' cried Leonora, with a light laugh. 'You're not likely to see much of him, I suspect,' rejoined Mrs. Ducker, with flashing eyes: 'he can have his choice of company, I can tell you, and will not be io A CITY UNCLE. 57 any luirrv to leave Rome, or his friends, Viscount Toq)id und tlie Marquis of \Vitheiini:;ton I ' This was said ahnost tiiniuphautly, and in the manner of a person who plavs down u well-reserved trump at cards. Leonora, however, had known too many viscounts and marquises, and was still too little English in her ideas to attach the expected importance to such titles. Indeed, the chances and changes of foreign life enabled her to number some dukes and princes among her acquaintance ; she was, therefore, neither astonished as her companion intended, nor at all interested in the given information — it merely sent her thoughts, with the swiftness of lightning, to Italy; and, as answer to tlie pompous announcement, she observed with a smile, ' I liked everything at liome excepting — the Heas.' * So I you have been there, too ! ' cried Mrs. Ducker. with a look of surprise ; and then piqued, and, provoked perhaps, by Leonora's silent nod and mouth full of biscuit, sl)e added, ' It tiill be a change for you, going to school this Michaelmas Term I' * To school I' repeated Leonora, amazed, and instantly sitting up as erect as her companion could have desired. ' Yes; to the same where Miss Georgina 'as been so well heducated. Oh, you may think yourself very well hoff, for there 's a carriage for the young ladies to go a hairing in and to the riu;ng school, and a l''rench/(?Hj de sham, and they learn to make curtseys, and receive visitors, and are only a limited number, and the daughters of people of fortune and family I ' 'Georgina is my uncle Gilbert's daughter?' said Leo- nora, lialf interrogatively, ' Who else could 1 mean?' asked Mrs. Ducker; 'but she 's Miss Nixon, by right, since our little girl died ; and most uncommon haccomplished she is they say — plays long variations on the pianer, and sings hopera songs, and draws eads in chalk ; but of course you can do all this loo! ' 'Xo,' answered Leonora, ' I am not at all accomplished;' and, to say the truth, she had no particular wish to be- come so at that moment, if, for tlio purpose, she must again go to school. Had Mrs. Uuckcr expressed herself 58 A cny uncle. properly, and said that ' A lady mvouM receive her into hroiioriion of persoiiril Rdiiii- ration. Her hopes of hearing from him or liis family sustained her for some time, but when weeks passed over wiiliout a line even from Jane, an uncontrollable impa- tience began to prey upon her mind. Like a newly-caged bird, she moved about restlessly in her prison, wandered from one window to the other, rushed up and down the stairs, wondered if ever her uncle would have time to take her out to walk, or if she should ever have courage to ask him to show her sonicthing of London. So great was at length her want of a companion, that she even made desperate ellorts to obtain the friendship of Anne Ducker, descending to the housekeeper's room, and offering, nay entreating to be allowed to hem rubbers or mend stockings as an excuse for remaining there. Mrs. Ducker's jealous fears, however, had returned directly she found that the school plan had been set aside, and she repulsed Leonora's olTers of usefulness so ungraciously that the poor girl retreated, mortified and olTended, to the lonely study, and after yielding for some time to a despondency that de- prived her cheek of every trace of colour, and caused an unconquerable lassitude to pervade e\ery movement of her drooping form, she at last sought and found in tlie libraiy. placed by her uncle at her disposal, occupation for her time, and solace for her solitude. At first she read slowly, almost listlessly, but the works were all of the best kind, and there were critical journals of every description to guide her choice. She began to discover that she was extremely ignurant, to rejoice iu having so much leisure for reading, to like the quiet room with its comfortable ponderous furniture, to be surprised at the quick flight of time, and even wonder if her uucle had not come home too soon when the turning of his now well-known Chubb key in the hall door interrupted het studies. It is astonishing what a variety of literary inclinations the careful perusal of reviews and magazines- gave her, and what knowledge of the world — that is the English world — she acquired by reading not only the works of fiction already in her uncles possession, but each new novel as it appeared. As regidarly as the uewspapcrd 70 HOW LEONORAS NAME these works were laid on Mr. Nixon's table, for, like thousands of men in his position in England, he felt the necessity of relaxation for his mind, and perhaps also a natural longinj^ for some intercourse (though but in fiction) with a world from which, either from choice or necessity, he lived so wholly apart. Leonora was needlessly surprised at the interest which he took in the fate of the various heroes and heroines of these works, for it is not uu- frequently those who concern themselves the least about the life struggles of the persons immediately around them, who sympathize most unreservedly in the joys and sorrows of fictitious personages. At all events, novel reading was the usual evening occupation of both uncle and niece, and served effectually to banish the sleepiness which the nocturnal silence in the room and house might have produced. Leonora at last succeeded in completely gaining Mrs. Ducker's heart by submitting to a regimen of slops to cure a cold caught during the winter on one of the very few occasions that presented themselves for going out : she also discovered why that worthy woman's bonnets and silk dresses retained the lustre of newness, while their forms denoted an unusual age for such articles — they were used but once a week, and then only when the weather was propitious. A walk for pleasure or health was a thing scarcely understood by the members of Mr. Nixon's family, but, indeed, had it been otherwise, Mrs. Ducker would not easily have found leisure for what she unhesitatingly pro- nounced waste of time. Her activity at home was un- ceasing, amounting almost to restlessness ; she was domineering, addicted to scolding, yet a kind and even warm-hearted woman, perfectly illiterate, yet possessed of both good sense and intelligence. Her jealousy of Leonora once overcome, she scolded and petted her alternately — her ire being generally provoked by Leonora's carelessness about the rents in her clothes, her affection continually increased by the gentleness, growing cheerfulness, and, it must be added, beauty of the young girl, whom she began to consider in some degree dependent on her for bodily comforts. Her visits to Leonora in the study, at first 'short and far between,' were in the course of time CAME TO BE SIIOHTENED. 71 frequently prolonged by a forcible retention on a clmir while the whole story of a new play or poem was related. It is even on* record that a strong piece of cord was once used for that purpose, the knots laughingly tied being afterwards found of a Gordian description, and the opera- tion of cutting them still uncompleted, when Mr. Ni.Kon's step was heard in the hall : Mrs. Ducker, or, as she was then called 'Duckey,' was obliged to make her escape into the dining-room with the chair still fastened to her person. Leonora's efforts to understand her uncle's character were at first not quite successful. The unbroken regularity and seclusion of his life astonished her, and his want of all inclination for society, or anything approaching to amusement, was incomprehensible to one accustomed to the sociability and gaiety of foreign life. Winter, spring, and summer passed over without his ever even mentioning to her the familiar words concert or theatre, and from the papers alone she knew that such entertain- ments were not uncommon in London. His taciturnity yielded, however, by degrees to her winning ways ; she had a good deal of feminine tact, and never put herself in com- petition with ' The Times ' during breakfast, or the entremets at dinner; but after having breakfasted he sometimes voluntarily entered into a short political discussion, or he delayed his slumber after dinner to criticise a new book ; occasionally, too, he lingered over his tea in the evening for the same purpose, and as time wore on, and intimacy increased, he spoke of foreign countries and man- ners; and though in both giving the preference to England, his opinions were those of a man who had read and thought, his prejudices the natural consequences of want of personal experience. His ruling passion was ambition — he himself would have said love for his only son, of whose long and frequent absences he nevertheless evidently approved. He told Leonora that Arthur was a man of unusual artistical and ocsthetical tastes, which were more easily satisfied on the continent than at home ; but he refrained from adding that he could there also make acquaintances, English and foreign, quite out of his domestic s})here, and that they both concurred in an ardcut desire to rise in the social scale. 72 HOW LEONOR.v's NAME unci hoped to secure tliis desirable eml tliroupjh tlie wealth persevering:!!}' increased by the cue, and the judicious mar- riage of the other. The first interruption to the quiet monotony of Leonora's life, was a grand dinner given on Cliristnias-day by Mr. Nixon to his brother Gilbert and his family on their return from the country. He invited to meet them his com- mercial partner, William Plumpton, his wife, sons, and daughters ; and again to meet them, and render the party complete, several young men in their mutual employment. The preparations for this dinner were of the most extensive description ; the furniture of the drawing-rooms was un- covered, and Leonora examined and admired the carefully preserved chairs, sofas, and tables, carpets, lustres, and alabaster vases, as much as she perceived Mrs. Ducker ex- pected. 'J'he glasses over the chimney-pieces were of enormous dimensions, fixtures, as Leonora was informed, and bought witli the house, some earl or marquis having had them built into the wall when Russell-square had been one of the most fashionable parts of London. Leonora felt a good deal of curiosity to see l:er uncle Gilbert and his family, about whom she had, by degrees, obtained some information from Mrs. Ducker — her utter ignorance of the names and ages of her cousins appearing to the latter perfectly incomprehensible. Xot without surprise had she learned that there were Gilbert Nixons in both the East and AVest Indies and Australia, all well-to- do in the world, and likely to be as rich as their grandfather in the course of time. Of the fourth son, -Mr. Sam, who had received the ' heducation of a lord, had been to Hox- ford, and was a barrister with chambers,' Mrs. Ducker spoke with respect and reserve, but she dwelt long and feelingly on the restlessness and ill-conduct of Master John when ' at 'ome for the 'olidays.' Miss Georgina was con- sidered very helHgunt ; but by fiU" the best of the fambly, in her opinion, had been Miss Leonora, who had died of a heart complaint a few months previously. Leonora, ashamed to confess that she had never heard either of the existence or death of this cousin, considered it a sort of expiation to make the most minute inquiries respecting her namesake, and learned that she had been CAME TO bt, SUOKTENED. 73 nhout her own age, but from childhood so delicate that she had constantly resided at her father's country house, Ueechtield, which was at a convenient railroad distance from London ; that even in winter she had been seldom long separated from her family, her father especially regularly passing part of each Saturday and all Sunday with her. Though greatly inferior to her sister Georgina in talents and acquirements, she had avowedly been his favourite child, and he had by no means recovered from the grief occasioned by her death when he first saw his niece on Christmas-day. Similarity of name and age, perhaps also some personal resemblance between the two Leonoras, seemed to strike him forcibly and painfully; tears started to his eyes, and, unable to control his emotion, of which, like a true Englishman, he was heartily ashamed, he abruptly left the room, and did not return until just before dinner was announced. ' Papa cannot yet bear to hear the name Leonora,' ob- served Georgina, who had swept into the room and seated l:^'r^elf on one of the sofas with astounding gracefulness, ' but 1 dare say in time he will learn not to mind it.' * It may require longer than you suppose,' said Stephen Nixon, gravely. * I have not yet been able to pronounce my niece's name without an effort.' 'All! true — my aunt's name wasLeonora,' said Georgina, ' 1 had forgotten that she was godmother to our poor dear Leonora.' * I had also a daughter of that name,' observed Mr. Nixon. * But,' rejoined Georgina, ' she was such a mere child when you lost her! ' ' She lived long enough,' he answered, slowly, ' to make the name doubly dear and familiar to me.' Leonora now recollected that during the three months she had resided with her uncle he had scarcely ever ad- dressed her by her name, that he had- even used some in- genuity to avoid doing so, and had peremptorily desired the servants to call her • Miss Nixon,' when, with the nice perception of rank peculiar to the English, they had shown ilieir knowledge, that the daughter of the youngest son of Samuel Ni.^on was in fact only ^liss Leonora, until aftCT the marriage or death of lier cousin Georgina. 7-4 HOW leonoha's name * Wliy do yoii not call me Nora?' she now said, turning suddenly to her uncle ; * I never was called otherwise until 1 came to England.' ' And you never shall be called by any other name in future,' he answered; 'we shall drink your health after dinner to-day, and give you again the name I have no doubt you like better than any other.' Nora, as she was henceforward called, had not time to become much acquainted with her relations during tho evening. Her uncle Gilbert appeared to her more good- natured, but less gentlemanlike, than her uncle Stephen. In fact, good living had made him stout, and prosperity cheerful — at . times almost jovial — though ever with a certain pomposity of demeanour, which he imagined equally English and dignified. He had suited himself •with a wife early in life, and had often facetiously declared that she had been one of his best speculations. They had lived very happily together, and, after having attained an immense size, she had died from the effects of good living and want of exercise. Time had enabled Gilbert Nixon to get reconciled to this loss, but there was another which he never ceased to regret, and unceasingly and loudly to deplore — the want of a classical education. While his brother, however, had endeavoured to supply this loss by an extensive study of every branch of English literature, Gilbert had never attempted to read anything but a news- paper, in which, strange to say, the fashionable intelligence vas apparently of nearly as much importance to him as the state of the funds. Fortunately this intelligence was not scanty in detail, so that he had frequent opportuni- ties of rejoicing in balls and dinners, given by and for the entertainment of people, with whose names at least he was familiar. The queen and princes seldom rode or walked out without his being in the same way made acquainted with the minutest particulars ; and, feeling deeply in- terested in such communications, he invariably spoke of them with a mixture of pride and exultation, the cause of which miglit perhaps by a circuitous route be traced to the fact that the balls and dinners were given and frequented by his countrymen, the queen was his queen, the princes tvere his priuces I CAMC TO BE SHORTENED. 75 Gilbert Nixon was, according to the English fashion, essentially patriotic, being not only deejjly impressed with the invincible power and boundless wealth of England, but perfectly convinced that there never had been, and never would be, a nation iu any respect capable of bearing a comparison with her. Personally he was strongly pre- judiced against all foreigners, calling the French duty and the Germans dull, without ever iu the course of his life having become acquainted with an individual of either nation. Nora's continental education he considered a great disadvantage, but was more than half reconciled when a nearer acquaintance made him aware of her still unbounded admiration for everything English. Nora fuund the Christmas dinner tedious and tiresome, and the plum pudding by no means so excellent as she had expected. She was somewhat perplexed, too, how to find amusement for her guests in the drawing-room, and much regretted her cousin Arthur's having removed the pianoforte to the attics, and let it fall to pieces there, merely because the form was old-fashioned, and the more so as Mrs. Plumpton informed her more than once, that both her daughters ' played with e.xtraordinary execution,' and that the Plumpton family were all remarkably musical ! Noras eti'orts to please were, however, too sincere to be unsuccessful, and before her uncle came upstairs she and I\lrs. Plumpton had made great strides towards a better acquaintance, the latter liaving already hoped to see her soon at her house, and promised to give her an excellent receipt for mock-turtlo boup. The Misses Plumpton were alim, quiet girls, no longer very young, and Nora had thought them sensible unatVected women until she observed their eti'orts to attract tho attention and flirt with the half-dozen young men who. Hushed with wine, hovered round the tea-table at a late hour. Not so Georgina; she seemed to consider Nora alone worthy of notice, disdained the female Plumptons altogether, and leaning back in an arm-chair, repulsed even tho advances of that very line gentleman Mr. Percival Plumpton, so that he withdrew in disgust from die contemplation of her little saucy turned-up nose, and 76 A niACTICAT- LESSON bestowed his condescending atLention on Nora for tlie renminder of the evening'. In due time an invitation to dine with the Plumptons readied Mr. Nixon, in wliich Nora was included. The party was of a gayer description than ihnt given by her uncle, for, as Mrs. Plumpton observed, 'Where there are young girls in a house, music and dancing are a matter of course.' Many peojde came to tea, and the Misses Plumpton commenced an impromptu concert with what they called ' pieces ' of Thalberg and Herz. They were succeeded by some timid young ladies, who trembled forth the newest and most popular ballads, and then a stout gentleman shouted out the bass of a duet from a well- known opera, but with such utter contempt of all the rules of music, that when people whispered, ' Lablache to the life,' Nora innocently supposed his perfminance a parody, and laughed and nodded her head with the others. During the waltz on the carpet that followed, she came to the hasty conclusion that Englishmen considered it beneath their dignity to learn to dance, and then unwillingly ad- mitted to herself, that as specimens of the first nation in the world, they were wonderfully awkward in their manners. Yet this evening often recurred to Nora's memory, as week after week, and month after month, passed over without another invitation. Her uncle Gilbert spent all his spare time at Beechfield ; Georgina had returned to Mrs. Howard St. Vincent's Establishment ; Mr. Sam Nixon lived at his chambers ; and John had gone back to school. The Plumptons called one day, and said they were going to IMai'gate, which was a delightful place, and from that time forward, excepting to church on Sunday, or to take a solitary saunter in the square, Nora never left tho house. CHAPTER IX. A PRACTIC.\L LKSSON OX THK FOHCE OF HABIT. Soon after the commencement of the second year of Nora's residence with her uncle, a transaction took place that seemed likely to change her prospects in a very unex- pected manner. Stephen and Gilbert Nixon had joined ON THE FORCE OF HABIT. 77 in some railway speculation that had pr^>ved fortunato beyond their most sanj^uine expectations. Gilbert, who had been manager on the occasion, called by appointment late one afternoon, and brouglit with him his daughter Georgina, now returned home * for good,' as he expressed it. The two girls retired to one of the windows, where Georgiuii, putting her hand on Nora's Moulder, hoped they were soon likely to be much together, and become very good fiieuds. ' If you cau manage to come here occasionally,' began Nora. • No, dear, you must come to us,' said Georgina, inter- rupting her hastily. ' Russell-square is quite out of the question — Ultima Tluile, as one of my friends called it the other day ! ' 'But my uncle has strictly forbidden my going out, excepting to walk in the s^quare,' said Nora, * or with Anne Ducker, who has so seldom time — scarcely ever, in fjict '. ' 'Oh, we don't want old Ducker at all,' rejoined Georgina, laughing, ' we only want you — that is, / want YOU, and hope to be of use to you. Papa has been so lucky with his railway shares, that he has at length yielded to my entreaties, and bought a house in Eaton- place, and given me carte blanche for the furniture! I have chosen amber-coloured silk for the drawing rooms, green and gold for the dining-room, and ]\lrs. Savage Wayward says, if papa will only give dinners, she can introduce us to all the first people in town, and that her friend. Lady Robert Botherton will present us — that is. you and me — at the next Drawing Room ; but you, I suppose, will prefer Lady Medway, as she is a relation.' 'Who? 1? Lady Medway!' repeated Nora. ' 1— I do not even know where she is at present! ' * Surely, cried Georgina, much astonished, ' surely, you must bs awaix; that they are all returned from Italy.' • How should I know ? ' asked Nora, with a faint smile. ' Because it was in the papers a week ago,' answered Georgina. ' Do you never read the fashionable intelli- gence '? ' ' Very seldom.* * What an odd girl jou are ! But you will soon think 78 A PnACTICAL LESSON and feel differently about all these tliinf:fs. Wait only until our estal)lislinient in Eaton-place is in order. I intend to bepin very quietly, to prevent people froni talking too nuich about us, or forming a league to laugh at us, also to give papa time to get rid of all his tiresome, old-fashioned habits. My brother Sam is a provoking plodder, and John is still a mere child — both of no sort of use to me, and I have not courage to brave the difficulties of working my way in the world of fashion quite alone. With you, however, for a companion, and plenty of money, it will be very odd if I cannot contrive, not ouly to brave, but even to overcome them. You see I am candid, and tell you that I want you. It would undoubtedly have been more worldly wise, had I pretended perfectly disinterested motives for this offer of a home — such as a wish to save you from a continuance of your present dull life, and a desire to promote your marrying advantageously ; but T take it for granted that though a couple of yeai's younger than I am, you have seen enough of the world to under- stand me, and like me all the better for being plain- spoken.' Nora smiled with a look of such perfect intelligence that Georgina continued — 'There is but one thing likely to interfere with our plans ; I fear — I greatly fear — that my uncle Stephen may take it into his head to object to your leaving him.' Nora almost laughed at the idea, and assured her cousin that her uncle Stephen would scarcely observe her absence. ' I am glad to hear it,' said Georgina ; ' papa will speak to him directly about you. I suppose,' she added abruptly, ' I suppose you will be glad to see the Medways again, and can introduce us to them ? You must know them well after having resided in their house so long.' ' I knew them tolerably well,' said Nora with a sligT)t blush, ' but they have never come to see me — never even written to me since I have been here.* ' Of course not,' said Georgina, lightly, ' how could you expect such a thing ? ' • I thought Jane at least too young to have any absurd prejudices.' ' She must do as her mother desires,' rejoined Georgina; ON THE FORCE OF HABIT. 79 'but TOO will soon see her, as she is to be presented this year, when Lady Grace marries Mr. Cardwell.' • Why, you know all about them ! * said Nora, surprised. *I saw them yesterday evening at the Opera, where I went with the Savage Waywards. Lord Medway was there too, looking so indolent and ill ; people say it is quite unpardonable his requiring such a lengih of time to die ! • ' Oh, Georgina, how can you speak with such levity ! ' • Mr. Wayward's words, not mine.' she answered ; * but hush,' she added, turning towards her father and uncle. ' they are talking about us now, and I suppose we may listen.' A look of intelligence passed between her and Gilbert Nixon as iu an off-hand kind of manner, and without any circumlocution, he proposed to relieve his brother of the charge of their niece. Nora, assuring him with evident sincerity, 'that he and Georgina had taken a foncy to her: that she should never want for anything, and that without offence he might say they had a gayer and more eligible residence to offer her than the old house in Russell- square !' Mr. Nixon did not listen to this speech unmoved; the colour forsook his lips, and, perhaps to conceal some feeling so unexpected on his part that he hardly under- stood it himself, he timied towards the fire-place, bent his head on his hand, and seemed to consider long before he answered slowly, * With you Nora will undoubtedly be happier than here, and I have no right to retain her if she choose to leave me.' This answer was pretty much what Nora had expected, but Georgina seemed equally surprised and pleased at an acquiescence so unconditional, when she had prepared herself for dowinnght steady opposition. She thanked him warmly, and asked when Nora might remove to Eaton- place. •When she pleases,' answered 'Mr. Nixon, stiffly. • Let us take her with us at once,' suggested Georgina. eagerly. To this, however, ho objected with strangely flashing eyes, and Gilbert interfering, proposed the following day, 80 A PRACTICAL LlibbON to which no objeclion being marie, he addeJ, while shakin*; Ills brother's hand, * To-morrow then let it be. I 'm glad to find you so ready to part with the girl, Stephen; Georgy was afraid you might wish to keep her, and,' he added, turning round at tlie door, ' and I myself enjoy so much having young people about me, that 1 thouglit it very likely you might some way or other have got fond of her, and used to her company and all that sort of thing. Of course, I should not have pressed the matter had this been the case, but Georgy would have been terribly dis- appointed, I can tell you. Good-bye, Stephen ; God bless you. So you won't join me ia the shares I intend to purchase to-morrow ? ' Mr. Nixon shook his head, the door closed, and Nora stood in the middle of the room, stupified at the sudden and perfectly unexpected change in her prospects. 'Youth- ful companions — a gay house — balls — operas — concerts — a presentation at Court — perhaps she should meet the Medways, and Lady Medway might now be kind to her, as she no longer wanted to live with her ! She believed she could pardon Lord Medway's having forgotten her — but Charles Thorpe, if in England, should be made to feel the whole weight of her displeasure. She would not dance with him, or look at him ; and if he asked her to forgive him, she would say *' Never i" or — no; she would laugh, and I'efuse to listen to his excuses ; or, still better, she would— but there was time enough to think of all that. How different her life would be in Eaton-place to what it had been in Kussell-square ; and yet the quiet study and the well-known books had to a certain degree become dear to her, and even her uncle ' Here she raised her eyes, and found his fixed on her with an inquiring, penetrating glance. He was standing precisely on the same spot where she had first seen him, somewhat more than a year before : again he stretched out his hand towards her ; but this time no words of reproach followed. ' Nora,' he said, calmly, * my brother was right when he supposed I should " get fond of you and used to your com- pany : " you do not know with what reluctance I resigu you.' ' You are verv kind to say so,' answered Nora, with a ON THE FORCE OF HABIT. 81 slight flush of plensure ; • but T cannot flatter myself that you will miss me in the Icasr.' ' You are mistaken,' said Mr. Xixon : * I shall miss you greatly, and wish 1 had a right to insist on your remaining with me.' • That right you have,' rejoined Nora. ' When T was homeless you received me into your house, and I feel bound in gratitude ' ' I received you into my family as a duty,' said Mr Xi.xon, interrupting her ; ' and I resign you now for the same reason.' He rang the bell in the deliberate manner that Nora now knew denoted an order for dinner, and she was but too glad to consider his doing so a sign on his part that he wished to end a conversation that was likely to euibarra?s her extremely. Of the charms of change Nora had perhaps an e.x- oggerated idea — of the force of habit a very faint notion. Whh the docility that generally accompanies a fair pro- portion of intellect, she had accommodated li^rself to the customs of her uncle's house ; but as she stood occasionally at one of the study windows, or sat alone there after ditnier by fire-light, her thoughts had wandered far and wide, and not once had it occurred to her that happiness, or even contentment, could be felt by any one who was immured within the walls of one house. From the day of her arrival in Kussell-squave, she had never for one moment lost the feeling of imprisonment that had then taken possession of her ; but it was ever so mixed with a hope of release at some time indefinite, that she had seldom, even to herself, mourned over a captivity of such uncertain length, and, taken all iji all, so endmable in its details. The eve of this long-expected time of freedom had arrived ; and, to continue the contrast with the dvay of her arrival, she and licr uncle seem to have, in a maimer, changed places. While she dined, he watched her intently; so much so, that he scarcely ate anything himself, causing thereby some consternation on the part of Biggs, the butler, who lingered unusually long in the room, to satisfy himself liiat the claret would not l"* disdained, as the varioug viands had been. 82 A paAcricAL lesson That eveninfT, too, Nora waited in vain for her uncle's accustomed sleep, during which she was in the habit of retiring to the study : though he stretched out his feet, and leaned back his head in the usual manner, his eves askance were still fixed on her, until, at length, murmuring something about not disturbing him, she thought it better to leave the room. He followed her almost immediately, sat down to read near the fire ; but a few minutes after- wards, starting up, he dashed the book on the table, and returned to the dining-room. A good deal surprised at conduct so unusual, Nora sat musing on the probable cause, until she heard the bell ring for tea, when he again entered the room, and, without speaking, commenced walking up and down in an uneasy, impatient manner. ' Nora,' he said, at length, abruptly stopping before her, 'the nomaden-like life that you have led, until very lately, will, I fear, prevent you from understanding me if I speak of the — force of habit.' 'Perhaps so,' she answered ; * my life has been as you say, nomaden-like. I do believe I have never yet been long enough stationary in any place to know the true meaning of either the word home or habit.' ' Pre-cisely,' said Mr. Nixon ; ' I thouj'ht so. It would be absurd,' he added, with ill-concealed embarrassment, 'absurd my expecting you to have found anything con- genial to your disposition in my house : you naturally rejoice in the prospect of leaving it — and me.' ' Not you,' answered Nora, quickly ; ' for though our daily intercourse has been very limited, and you have seldom found me worthy of any kind of rational companionship, I have by no means remained so inditferent towards you.' ' Indeed ! ' said Mr. Nixon, with a look of extreme satisfaction, as he seated himself at the table beside her. ' Now see, Nora, my taciturn habits alone have prevented me from enjoying your society as I ought to have done ; but I have been by no means insensible to the pleasure of having a young and cheerful girl to greet me in the morning, and to meet me on my return home in the evening. Surely j'ou must have observed that I come home from my office a whole hour earlier than formerly.' ' Ce;.tainly, I remarked it,' answered Nora, smiling; ON Tin: FOr.CE OF HABIT. 83 * your return hns been the only daily event of importance to me — my life has been positively re;^nlated by it I ' 'Can you not imagine,' said Mr. Ni.xon, gravely, 'that coming home to silence and loneliness will now be very disagreeable, if not painful to me?' ' I think,' she answered, beginning with some anxiety to suspect the drift of his discourse, ' 1 think that your old habits will soon resume their preponderance, and that you will forget an interruption wliich certainly, at first, was anything but pleasing to you.' 'Very well reasoned, indeed,' said Mr. Xixon ; 'it seems you know more of the force of habit than I supposed. Let me, however, tell you that your presence has been no interruption to my habits, and a very great embellishment to my home — that, in short, you have become necessary to my comfort and happiness, and — and — I -wish you would consent to remain with me.' Nora's countenance fell so instantaneously and perceptibly that her uncle hastened to add, 'I shall, of couree, under- take to provide for you respectably, and promise to make a codicil to my will for that j)urpo3e to-morrow.' What did Xora know about codicils? What did she, with youth, health, and beauty, care for a respectable provision? She sat beside her uncle in a painful state of embarrass- ment, a vague feeling of gratitude alone preventing her from refusing at once a proposition so unwelcome and per- ple.xing. All things considered, her gratitude was without much foundation ; Mr. Nixon had but tolerated her presence in the first instance, as the least expensive mode of disposing of her ; aiul if he had felt otherwise, at a later perioii. she had in no way been made aware of the change. This he knew and understood better than Nora, who only remembered that she had been received without demur, and permitted to live without molestation. He made a very slight impression when he assured her that the hap- piness she expected to enjoy in his brother's house might prove of a very mixed, if not uncertiiin description ; that Gilbert ami his family were about to hil)our up the hill of fashion, and would, undoubtedly, meet with stumbling- blocks in the form of rebutTs and annnyances, the mere description of which iu books alone bad ellectually do 84 ARRIVAL OF, AN' ADDITION? terred liim from ever even attemptinj:^ to increase or improve his small circle of acquaintances! It was the conchulinjT sentence of his tolerably long oration that at length had the effect he desired ; it was when he earnestly, yet gently, entreated her to stay with him, and not force an old man back into a loneliness that had become dis- tasteful to him, that she consented to remain in Russell- square, and of her own accord, before she went to bed, wrote an explanatory note to her cousin Georgina. which he took particularly good care should reach its destination at a very early hour the next morning. CH AFTER X. AKPaVAL OF, AN ADDITION ? OR, AN ACQUISITION ? Mr. Nixon in no way concealed the satisfaction he felt at having secured Nora's society ' for the remainder of his life.' as he unhesitatingly said to his brother a few days afterwards; adding conlklentially, 'The fact is, Gilbert, I am growing old, and were I to become infirm, Anne Ducker is not the person I should like to have about me. The wife likely to be chosen by my son Arthur will never consent to live in Russell-square ; and, in fact, I make no pretension to acquiring a daughter when he marries — on the contrary, rather expect to lose him altogether.' 'You have very nearly done that already,' observed Gilbert, bluntly. ' By no means,' said Mr. Nixon, quickly ; • I expect him home very soon to spend some time with me.' 'Perhaps he will condescend to visit ns now that we have moved westwards,* observed Gilbert, with some pique. * He was formerly much too fine a gentleman to notice or know me in the Park or at Kensington when he happened to be surrounded by his grand acquaintances.' * I have passed him in the same places without a r.od of recognition,' said Mr. Nixon, smiling: 'one look of in- telligence is all I expect on such occasions.' ' Oh, if he cuts his own father, I have no right to be offended,' rejoined Gilbert, laughing ; ' only one of my Bons had better not attempt anything of the kind with me.' OB, AN ACQUISITION? 85 •Arthur and I have come to the most perfect under- BtaiidiiiL; on these siilijects,' observed 3Ir. Mixon, cahnly; * he must eudeavour lo rise in the world, and he can do so much more easily when not hampered b}* an old father, whose very existence is uukuowu to many of his acquaint- ances.' ' I have no notion of being put aside in any such way,' said Gilbert, flushing a good deal. ' I should think there was nothing to prevent him from rising in the world as well as my son. Money's the main point, and that I have, and intend to keep too as long as I live.' ' It won't do what you want,' said his brother, in the same calm, thoughtful manner; 'the rise in the social scale is only perfected in the third generation. We are a decided improvement on our father in manners and appearance, and in both, as well as iu education, our sous are an improvement on us.' ' Ah, I knew you would say something about our want of a classical education I TluU indeed is a loss never to be repaired; but do you know, Stephen, Georgy tells me that people of rank do not quote Greek or Latin e.vcepting in parliament, and she tliinks even if they did, I mighc pull out my handkerchief, like the people on the stage, and pretend to understand, and ' ' And look like a fool I ' said his brother, interrupting him. 'That's it,' said Gilbert, laughing good-humouredly ; •after all, it's belter to "tell the truth and shame the devil." eh?' • It is better to keep quiet and make no pretension of any kind,' answered Stephen. ' Let your sons and •laughters work their way in the world; your wealth will help them on, but you yoinself will be a dead-weight on their hands, and with all their alVection for you, they will tiud your presence in society a nuisance.' ' V,o, I cannot believe that,' exclaimed Gilbert, walking op and down the room a good deal chafed ; ' though not as good looking as you, 1 may at least say that I have the manners and appearance of a — gentleman.' Stephen Ni.von neither assented nor dissented to thia observation ; he seemed relieved by the entrance of Nora, 86 ARRIVAL OF, AN ADDIUON ? to whom his brother instantly turned, exclaiming, ' So, ^liss Nora, you prefer Kussell-bquare to Eaton-place after all, it seems ! ' ' My uncle Stephen prefers my society to being alone,' she answered, with a. smile. * Now, I wonder,' he continued, with some asperity — * I wonder if you would give the same answer to Lady Medway, supposing her ladyship took it in her head to •wish for your company ! ' The possibility of an invitation to spend the summer at The ^Villows had again partially taken possession of Nora's mind, from the time her cousin Georgina had informed her of the return of the Med ways to England. She looked eagerly and inquiringly towards her, uncle Stephen, who apparently understood her thoughts, when he answered, ' Gilbert is jesting, Nora; no letter or mes- 'Sage has been sent by the Medways, nor is there the : slightest chance of your hearing anything of them until your brother returns from the Mediterranean; /le, I sup- pose, will take some notice of you, but I have no fears of his ever proposing to take you from me altogether as your uncle Gilbert would have done.' ' For which I shall ever feel grateful,' said Nora, extending both her hands to the latter. ' Well, well,' cried Gilbert, looking exceedingly pleased, * it 's a good thing to have " two strings to one's bow," Nora; so when you are tired of Ilussell-square you can come to Eaton-place, and vicy vercy. In an establishment such as mine, one more or less is of no importance, as Georgy said, when she engaged the fellow who is to wear powder, and indeed everything would be right if I could only get used to the new fashions And the late dinner-hour. Georgy chooses to keep the cloth on the table, too, and won't let us afterwards sit round the fire to crack our nuts comfortably, as I have been used to do ever since I have had a house of my own — but I suppose it 's all right, for Mrs. Howard St. Vincent told her that such customs wero now considered quite antidelerium.' Mr. Nixon rubbed his upper lip to conceal a smile, and said, ' You are a younger man than I am, Gilbert, and can perhaps change all your habits to please youi* children. OB, AN ACQUISITION? 87 Nora has fortunately been able to accommodate herself to the old-fashioned usages of my house, though 1 have no doubt, many of them are diametrically opposite to what she has beeu accustomed to. Take care that Georgina does not learn to dictate more thau you may fiud agreeable hereafter.' * Oh, she 's so clever,' responded Gilbert, with evident pride, 'such a manager, that she would turn even you round her tinger in no time if she were here. It was her plan our inviting Nora as we did last week ; she said, if we took you by surprise, and spoke in Noras presence, you would be ashamed to refuse your consent, it would appear so egotistical on your part; and, egad, she was right, but she did not reckon on your flinching when our backs were turned.' A flush passed over j\Ir. Nixon's face while his brother continued — ' She was e.xceedingly provoked at Nora's note of refusal, and would not come here with me to-day, as she said, she could not possibly refrain from telling you that it was uncommon selhsh your burying poor Nora during the best years of her life in your front parlour here, and depriving her of all chance of settling advantageously in the world.' Gilbert, in his eagerness to prove the cleverness of his daughter, evidently forgot the presence of his niece ; not so, Stephen, who, with difficulty, repressed his auger, as he answered, ' Georgina seems a person of extraordinary penetration, and I am happy to be able to relieve her anxiety by giving her the information that she need give herself no further concern respecting her cousin's settle- ment in the world. I shall so provide for Nora, that aw — in short, Georgina may bestow all her thoughts and care upon herself and her own affairs in future,* ' That I shall certainly tell her, Stephen, you may depend upon it ; for she desired fine to sound you on that very subject, and point out to you the necessity of doing something handsome fur Nora, after her having consented to remain with you in this dismal old house ! ' * Have the goodness also to tell Georgina from me,' said Mr. Nixon, his face flushing and eyes flashing, 'that I consider her advice on this occasion extremely impertinent. 88 ARRIVAL OF, AN ADDITION ? that I forbid all future interference on her part between Nora and nie, and to prevent the possibility ot" anything of the kind, that I shall feel greatly obliged by her absenting herself altogether from my dismal old house.' 'Now don't be offended,' said Gilbert, half apologeti- cally ; ' that the idea was not bad is proved by your having already done of your own accord what she desired me to suggest. You don't yet know what a clever girl Georgy is ; if you only heard her talk you would be astonished ! ' •At her flippancy? I dare say I should.' ' Come, come, Stephen, you must not be angry with my girl for knowing a little of the world and its ways. Mrs. St. Vincent assured me, when I left Georgy with her the additional year, that she would make her capable of pre- siding over any establishment in England, and I must say she has kept her word. Georgy might be a duchess I ' ' I hope she may be,' said Stephen, with a grim smile. ' It won't be her fault if she's not,' said (jilbert, ' she has ambition enough for us all. But now 1 must go — won't you take a look at my new carriage? It's a very nice turn-out, I can assure you; Georgy says, quite com- plete and in very good style.' ' Chosen by her, of course? ' half asked Mr. Nixon. ' Certainly. Nothing would have induced her to enter our old coach since her return from Mrs. St. Vincent.' ' Oh — indeed I ' 'I can afford it, Stephen, afford it well,' cried Gilbert, provoked at last by his brother's manner; 'and I don't see why my daughter should not have her own carriage as well as your sou his cab and riding-horses, to say nothing of all the expensive fooleries on which he spends so many thou- sands every year ! ' ' Your ignorance, alone, excuses the word fooleries,' said Mr. Nixon, with a smile of contempt. * I know I am ignorant, Stephen,' cried Gilbert, too angry to understand the less offensive meaning of his brother's word, ' but there is no necessity for your telling me so continually. All the Greek and Latin ever learned at Oxford or Cambridge would not have taught us to make money like the writing and arithmetic that you pretend to. despise.' OR, AN ACQUISITION ? 89 * You niisumlerstaiul me ' began Stephen. * No I ilon't. Yua sneer at me and my family because we are about to make at home the same etforts that yuur son has been for years making abroad.' ' By no means,' said Mr. Xi.\on. ' Don't suppose I blame the young people for endeavouring to rise, or even for making desperate elYorts to push themselves forward in the world ; they may succeed, but you will only be ridiculed for your pains.' ' And why so?' asked Gilbert. ' Did not Nora's fiither ' * You have chosen a bad example,' said Steplien, inter- rupting him ; ' Nora's father bacriCced his fortune to fashion, and died — a pauper.' ' Take care that Arihur does not do the same,' said Gil- bert. * I have no anxiety on that subject,' answered Stephen, nodding his head. 'Few fathers are on more confidential terms with their sous than I am with mine. Arthur has >Lldom exceeded his allowance, and when he does so. It is only for objects of rertu.' ' Virtue, indeed I ' exclaimed Gilbert, laughing ironically. * You know very little about him or his virtue, during the last twelve years, I suspect ! My sons Sam and Jack shall remain at home, and never wear a moustache ou paiu of being disinherited I ' 'Uh, it's the moustache that has given oflfence I ' said Stephen, smiling. * No otYcnce at all,' rejoined Gilbert; 'but I have heard enough of your son's doings to make me resolve to keep my sons at home as long as 1 can : and if going abroad be so necessary as people seem to think now-a-days, why I shall go with them, and follow them about too, wherever they go.' ' 1 advise you to set about learning French, with all cou- venient expedition,' said Stephen, with a sneer. ' I shall have a coureer,' retorted his brother, ' And a tea-kettle ' suggested Stephen. (jilbert took up his hat, with evident signs of extreme irritation. Stephen rose and laid his hand on his brother's arm. • Come, Gilbert,' he said, ' let us understand each other. 90 AnnivAL of, an addition? and not part in anger. You are a clever, clear-headed man, as I have reason to know, having often enough profited by your advice.' The other, with a look of returning satisfaction, attempted to disclaim. * I say, you are an unusually clever man of business,' persisted Stephen ; ' but you are no man of the world, and never will be — or I either, though I know more of it from books than you do. Try it for a few years, and painful e.v- perience will convince you that I am right. As to our children — it is evident you feel no great regard for my gou, and to tell you the truth, I do not desire the society of your daughter, either for myself or Nora. Let us, there- fore, as heretofore, meet daily in the City, and but rarely at our respective homes. Our roads are no longer parallel, and Georgina will explain to you before long that your servants need not be made acquainted with the fact, of your having a brother who lives so much nearer the City than the West End.' Gilbert looked conscious, as if be had already heard something to that purport, and endeavoured to conceal his embarrassment by asking when Arthur was expected home. ' In a week or two,' answered Stephen. ' He and Lord Torpid are travelling together, and have reached Paris b}- this time.' ' Ah— indeed ! I read this morning in the paper, that it was generally supposed his lordship would shortly lead the beautiful and accomplished Lady Louisa Thorpe, to the — the — hymn — bym — him-alay-an altar ! ' Nora thought her uncle meant to be facetious, and laughed. Such was not his intention ; he had some slight misgiving that he had blundered a little in the pronuncia- tion of a hard word ; but, otherwise, considered his speech as ver}' correct, and probably classical. ' That may be true,' observed Stephen, suppressing a smile. ' Lord Torpid was at Nice, for some weeks, when the ]\fedways were there. Arthur can tell you all about the Thorpes, Nora, if they still continue to interest you.' ' I believe I had better try to forget them, as they seem to have forgotten me,' answered Nora, blushing. ' The Medways are a very distinguished family,' said OK, AN ACQCISITIOS ■'' 91 Gilbert, as he walkeil towards the door, 'very distin- guished, indeed! Yesterday eveuii)i^, her ladysliip enter- tained a select party, at her house in Grosvenor-place, at which were present the Earl and Countess of Withering- ton, the Ladies Martingale, Lord Augustus Jockey, and other members of the aristocracy. It is not improbable that I may become acquainted with the Medways during the season, Nora ; and you may depend upon my speaking of you the first opportunity that occurs.' He left the room with a pompous wave of the hand, and an oddly contrasting good-humoured smile. This conversation made a deep impression on Nora, from having given her more insight into the characters of her two uncles than all the previous months of careful observation. Mr. Nixon never referred to it; but the knowledge that Nura was not altogether in his power, that others were as desirous as he was of having her to reside with them, unconsciously raised her in his estimation, and made him anxious to relieve the tedium of his house. That same evening, he requested her to preside in future at the tea-table, proposed her writing once a week a list of the books she wished to read, promising to procure them for her with his own, and, in a fit of kind thoughtfulness, actually surprised her with a present of a pianoforte, which with difficulty found a place in the study. She saw his efforts to make her feel herself at home, and unostenta- tiously met them half way ; so that by the time her cousin Arthur arrived, she had pretty nearly obtained the position of a daughter in his father's house. It was his arrival that first made her painfully conscious of the very reduced otate of her wardrobe : her mourning was completely worn out ; she had outgrown all her other clothes, had no money to replace them, and could not overcome the repugnance she felt to an explanation with her uncle on this subject. From week to week she had hoped he would observe her wants, and say something when on the way to church, during the cold, damp, autumn Sundays ; but he had no idea that her crape bonnet that had borne the dust of two summers, could not also sustain the sleet and rain of the succeeding winters. Nora's embarrassment was greatly increased bv the C2 ARRIVAL OF. AN AUDITION;' unusual preparations made for the reception of her cousin. Tlie drawing-room uimlows were opened, the furniture uncovered, and fires Hglited ; Anne Ducker informing her that their dear Arthur could not endure a house looliiug only half inhabited. The treasures of the front bed-room, and adjoining dressing-room, which were his, were then too, for the first time, completely disclosed to her admiring eyes, and she was permitted, at her leisure, to examine the choice pictures that covered the walls, the inlaid cabinets and tables, bronze statuettes, vases, and other objects of art with which they were crowded. The day of his arrival, light once more fell on the splendid service of plate, and the silver vessels of various form, that had decorated the sideboard on the occasion of the Christmas party ; but when Nora at last perceived that new and handsome carpets were being laid on the stairs, she thought it time to inspect her wardrobe, and endeavour to discover some dress appropriate for the reception of a person of such evident importance. She possessed a black velvet gown that had belonged to her mother, and though a foreign prejudice had hitherto made her un- willing to wear what she had learned to consider a matron's dress, she was now glad to have it, with its valuable old lace appendages, unconscious, when her toilet was completed, and she reluctantly left her room, that she had never in her life looked so picturesque and pretty, so graceful and dignified, as while leaning for a moment over the banisters of the staircase, to ascertain whether or not her cousin had arrived. He had arrived. Ostentatious as had been the prepara- tions for his reception, nothing could be more simple and quiet than his entrance. Having joined his father at his office in the City, they had returned home together, and he had then expressed so much more desire to see Mrs. Ducker than his cousin Nora, that he had retired first to the apartment of that mucu-flattered woman, and then to his own, making hastily the slight alterations in his dress which he considered sufiicient for his father and the young relation whose acquaintance he was about to make. He seemed, however, rather to waver in the latter opinion, as, immediately after leaving his room, his eyes rested on the OB, AN ACQUISITION? 93 charming firjnre in Mack velvet, that he saw preceding him downstairs, and lie wonld, perliaps, have leireated to «.^tTect some advantageous change, had not Nora looked up and — smiled, smiled as if she already knew him. In a moment he was heside her, and they entered tho drawiiig-room together, where they found Mr. Nixon enacting grand seii/neitr with all his might for the laudable purpose of gratifying his only son. The dinner, as far as conversation was concerned, proved almost a tCtca-tcte between Nora and her cousin ; but she left the father and son together directly afterwards, and sitting down beside the fire in the drawing-room (where she felt rather as if in a strange house) she came very quickly to the conclusion that Arthur was very decidedly gentlemanlike. She thought his hair, too, rather auburn than red: and if the colour of his beard admitted of no lioubt whatever, it did not prevent him from being good- looking : he was agreeable, too, and would be a pleasant addition to their small party, an acquisition to her as well as to her uncle. A very short time elapsed before he joined her, and, drawing a chair close to hers, said — ' My father is sleeping, and, I suppose, will continue to do so for half an hour longer. Let us have cofifee, and tell me all you know about Lady Louisa Thorpe : she is going to be married to a friend of mine — one of the quietest, bestnatured fellows in the world, and I hope you can tell me that he has not drawn a blank in Hymen's lottery.' * I know very little of Louisa,' answered Nora ; ' but I should think Lord Torpid had not made a bad choice.' • So you know all about it I ' said Arthur; * very natural — to be sure — of course.' ' Do not misunderstand me,* rejoitied Nora, quickly. ' A paragrapli in one of the papers, repeated by my uncle Gilbert, gave me all the information I possess. Tiiat Lord Torpid and the Marquis of Witherington are your intimate friends, Anne Ducker has impressed upon my mind by dint of eternal repetition of the words.' Arthur half laughed as ho exclaimed — 'Dear old Ducker! I hope you like her. Nora. In fact, you must, for she loves you beyond measure, and has 94 AURIVAL OF, AX ADDITION ? OR, AN ACQUISITION ? alrorifly assured me that you are a "hangel ;" I, too, feel rather inclined to think tliis must be the case now that my father has told me you refused to go to Mr. Gilbert Nixon's, in order to vegetate here with iiim. It was an immense sacrifice on your part ; and what this house must have appeared to you, coming from the ]Med\vays, I can well imagine ! ' Nora ]ilayed with her fire-screen, and made no attempt to disclaim. ' You expected,' he added, with some hesitation, ' to re- turn to — them ? ' ' I confess I had some foolish hopes of the kind for a month or so,' answered Nora, with a freedom from embar- rassment that encouraged her companion to go on ; yet he looked at the iire and not at her, as he observed — ' You did not know Lord Medway's wavering character, and expected him to carry through his plans concerning you with firmness.' ' I hardly knew what I expected,' she answered, leaning back in her chair, and gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling ; 'I did not expect to be so completely forgottei., certainly; but, after all, the plan was impracticable, you know, without his mother's consent.' ' I know no such thing,' said Arthur. ' Her ladyship's consent was, undoubtedly, desirable, but by no means ne- cessary to a man in his position. Our cousin Georgina would, in your place, have played her cards differently, and gone to Nice as — head nurse — hired by his lordship himself — as Lady Medway, in short ! ' ' I do not understand ' began Nora. ' Is it possible you did not know that he intended to marry you ? that his brother had the greatest diQiculty ia keeping him in Paris? that he refused for a long time to see his mother, who was obliged to propitiate him hy making all sorts of prorai'^es about you for the ensuing summer, the fulfilment of which her son Charles assisted her in evading? ' ' Are you quite sure of all this?' asked Nora, earnestly. * Perfectly certain.' 'And,' continued Nora, 'and they returned to England last year?' BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK. 95 * Oh, no! I don't think anything but the marriafre of her two eldest daughters would even now have induced Lady Medway to return. In her present position as a widow she finds Paris, Naples, or lloine, plcasanter places of residence than Loudon ; besides which, she wished to have the Channel for some time longer between vou and ^ledway, being much more afraid of the effects of your beaux yeux than even her son Charles, who told a friend of mine, in confidence, that a very short separation would be sufficient for their purpose, as you were merely a — a * What? ' asked Nora, smiling. * Something so very ditrcrent from what you are, that for his sake I am glad he gave the name of his informaut.' ' And who may that have been '.' ' asked Nora. 'Your stepbrother, Harry Danvin. who most probably has not seen you since you were a child.' ' Harry never liked me,' said Nora, with some emotion; • but that is of little importance to me now. As to Charles Thorpe, I dislike him intensely.' ' You would not if you knew him,' said Arthur ; * he is a fine, resolute fellow, and knows perfectly what he is about. As to his not particularly wishing his brother to marry, why — aw — a — hum ' * Oh ! as to that,' said Nora, ' my studies in English novels and tales of fashionable life since 1 have been here have given me such an insight into the present state of society that I can perfectly understand his motives.' * And partly excuse them, perhaps,' said Arthur, ' when you consider his brother's state of health, and that he did not know you personally.' The entrance of a servant with coffee prevented her from answering, and Mr. Nixon joining them almost immediately afterwards, the Thorpes were not again meniioued. CHAPTER XL BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK. It was not long before Nora began to discover that hor internal rejoicings at the agreeable aildition to their family had been somewhat premature. Arthur Nixon left home every morning directly after breakfast with his father, y6 Battlkdore and shlttlecock. sometimes accompanyinc; liim to the City, more frequently directing his steps westward to the Club, where he not only received his notes and letters, but also his friends ; and in the course of time the numerous invitations he expected for dinners, soirees, and balls. The evening after his arrival he went to the Opera; and from that time forward, for several weeks, seldom dined at home, excepting on Sundays. He informed his father daily at breakfast of his evening engagements, spoke of every person and everi'- thing he saw without the slightest reserve ; and on such occasions exhibited a degree of satire eminently calculated to lead the uninitiated to suppose that in his heart he had learned to despise the rank and fashion, in the pursuit of which he was squandering the best years of his life. Xora and her uncle returned to their old habits, and the study, and Arthur became to them merely an occasional, but always an acceptable and agreeable guest. As the spring advanced his engagements multiplied ; and though he complained frequently of being bored and fatigued, he seldom made arrangements for a day of rest ; gravely assuring Xora, when she jested on the subject, that if he remained at home for even one week, he should run a great chance of being ' clean forgotten, like a dead man, out of mind.' One rainy afternoon, towards the end of May, he returned home at an unusually early hour, and instead of going directly to his room, as was his custom, turned into the study. That he expected to find Nora there is certain, but so little did her absence concern him, that he took up a book, without even inquiring whether or not she were in the house ; and, throwing himself into a chair, rather rejoiced in the feeling of being alone. Scarcely, however, had the slight noise produced by his movement of books and chairs ceased, than he heard the sound of irregular, eager, almost breathless counting in the adjoining dining- room— 98— 99— 300 !— 301— 302— 3— 4— 5 and so on. Cautiously opening the door of communication between the rooms, he perceived that Nora, adroitly avoiding the tables and chairs, was amusing herself with a solitary game of battledore and shuttlecock, her anxiety lest the latter should fall to the ground being so great that bis BATTLKDOKE AND SHCTTLECOCK. 97 intruding head remained long unperceivcd. It happened that one of her greatest personal advantages was a per- fectly-formed figure, and nothing could be more graceful or fascinating than the unstudied and various positions into which her gaine compelled her to place it, while her upturned face, with sparkling eyes, lips slightly parted, and cheeks into which exercise had forced the clearest and brightest colour, made her, for the time being, the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld. He watched with intense interest every movement, followed with a sort of nervous anxiety the wavering flight of the shuttlecock as it sometimes approached, sometimes receded from his vicinity, and started when at length it alighted on his bead, and Nora stood before him. ♦ Oh, why did you open the door?' she exclaimed, in a tone of jesting reproach ; • if your tiresome head had not been there, I could have completed my fourth or even tifth hundred without interruption. Surely you must have returned home a full hour too soon to-day I ' 'An hour earlier — but I hope not too soon,' h« answered, with heightened colour. ' Oh, I have said something you don't like to hear, or you •would not correct my Engli:>h,' observed Nora, smiling Archly as she continued to play with her shuttlecock. But it now began to fall continually, and after Arthur had raised it from the floor at least a dozen times, he said he supposed she must be tired. * Not at all,' she answered, quickly ; ' it is dividing my attention between you and the shuttlecock that makes me so viahvhoile: I am never tired until after my fifth hundred.' ' What on earth do you mean by your fourth and fifth hundred?' asked Arthur. 'Why, you see,' said Nora, tossing the shuttlecock towards' the ceiling and pursuing it afterwards with a look of sportive eagerness — ' you see I am not accustomed to be so completely confined to the house (bump, bump), as if I had been born and bred in London (bump). — So when I first came here I used to run up and down the stairs a good deal (bump, bump, bump); but without any object in view, it was all too tiresome (bump). Then I made a ball H 98 BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK. for rayself (bump) — brol;e the windows (bump, bump) — and had no money to pay the ghizier ! ' Here the shuttlecock fell to the ground, and she raised it herself, as Arthur repeated — ' Pay the glazier?' ' Yes, for I did not wish my uncle to know that I was 10 childish as to play at ball, so Duckey paid forme (bump, bump), and did not write it in the account book. She also (bump) gave me this battledore and shuttlecock last Christmas (bump, bump, bump).' * Ducker ! ' exclaimed Arthur. ' Yes, Ducker,' said Nora, coming towards him, and with light touches of her hands keeping the shuttlecock constantly in the air just before her face, after the manner of the most expert juggler. 'Y'ou have no idea how kind she has been to me.' ' Or how generous you have been to her,' said Arthur ; 'yet she has shown me a brooch and earrings given her by you, which were certainly intended to deck a fairer person than good old Ducker's.' ' Earrings are a barbarous ornament,' replied Nora, smiling, 'and I never wear them. Other trinkets I value in exact proportion to my affection for the donors. The brooch that so delighted Ducker was worthless to me, given carelessly and accepted unwillingly. I can only rejoice in its having at last found a possessor who will value it, both intrinsically and fictitiously.' ' Y"ou have raised my curiosity concerning this brooch,* said Arthur. 'Have you any objection to tell me the name of the donor?' ' None whatever — it was my step-brother, Harry Darwin.' 'Do you feel so very indifferent towards him?' asked Arthur. * I have reason to do so,* answered Nora. ' He never cared for me, and the letter I wrote to inform him of my father's death and my unpleasant position was not answered for six months ! ' ' It may not have reached him so soon as you supposed,* suggested Arthur. ' it was forwarded to him immediately by Charles Thorpe, who must have given him some information BATTLEDORC AND SUUTTLKCOCK. 99 concerning me at a later period, as in his answer, though he parsed over my fatlicr's death as an event of no importance, he expressed very great satisfaction at my being so well provided for ; and recommended me to conciliate my uncle Stephen in every possible way, and to make myself generally useful in his house.' • When you again write.' said Arthur. ' you can tell hira that you have made yourself indispensable to my father.' • Our correspondence is at an end,' said Nora, as she entered the study. ' I could read between the lines of his letter his anxiety to avoid all further communicatioa with rae, his fear that I might become a burden to him.' ' For a young unmarried man, like Darwin,' began Arthur, • an orphan sister is rather a — a ' ' An incumbrance?' suggested Nora. 'Harry shall never find me one.' *1 sliould not e?:actly have used that word,' said Arthur, laugliing, 'and only wished to point out to you, that Darwin only acted as a — most other young men in his place would have done. He disliked your father, I believe — knew very little of you, and therefore ' ' You need not go on,' cried Nora, interrupting him, indignantly. 'After having attempted a justification of Charles Thorpe's conduct the very first evening of our acquaintance, I can hardly be surprised at your now excusing Harry's neqlect of me I In a worldly point of view they are both patterns of prudence, no doubt, but I can never like them — or you either,' she added petulantly, * if you can speak and think in this manner.' • Forgive me, Nora,' said Arthur, gravely, * for not being able to find fault with men whose conduct, whether repre- hensible or not, has been the means of bringing you under our roof.' He sat down at the writing-table, and hastily wrote a few lines, while Nora, half vexed, half flattered, retired to her mom to dress for dinner. Great was Mr. Nixon's surprise, and (must it be con- fessed ?) not inconsiderable his annoyance, when his son entered the study a few minutes before dinner-time, and carelessly saying that ho had written an excuse to the Savage Waywards, and intended to dine at home, sat down beside Nora, and peered over her shoulder, while she ex 100 BATTf.EDonE AND SHUTTLECOCK. amined a book of encjravinqs containinfr views of varioug mountainous |)aits of Germany, but chiefly tlie Tyrol. • Jf you liad mentioned your intention of reniainin<:j with us a little earlier,' said Mr. Ni.\on, 'we could have liad a fire in the drawing-room ; in fact,' he added, hablily turn- ing round, ' it is not too late, and the ' * Let nie entreat that no change may be made for me,* cried Arthur, springing towards him. ' I am really not such a bulky fellow that you cannot find room for me iu your snuggery here.' ' But,' said his father, 'I know j^ou dislike this room, and when we have drawing-rooms, why not use them ? ' * Why not, indeed?' exclaimed Arthur, laughing; 'but, on the present occasion, 1 do not choose in any way to in- terfere with your or Nora's habits, nor do I choose to be treated as a visitor anv loncjer.' ' I assure you, however,' said Mr. Ni.xon, ' that when the weather begins to get warm I have no sort of objection to going up stairs in the evening. I only turned in here when I was quite alone, you know.' • Yes, but you have continued hei'e with Nora, and she likes this room better than the others, I am quite sure ; ' he turned to Nora while speaking, but without waiting to hear her answer, Mr. Nixon left the room to give some orders about Rhine wine and ice, while Arthur, resuming his place be- side his cousin, bent over the engravings and murmured, ' I wish I were at any of these places.' ' So do I,' said Nora, vainly endeavouring to suppress a sigh. ' You are, probably, well acquainted with them all ? ' he esked. ' I have spent several summers among these mountains,' she answered, ' and know the banks of the Inn, and Inns- bruck, far, far better than the Thames and London ! ' ' I suspect you have as yet seen scarcely anything of London,' he observed. * Rather say nothing at all.' she replied ; ' I have not even had a glimpse of St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey.' • You shall see both to-morrow,' he said, smiling. ' Oh, thank you — I should like so much to see the Tower, ulso, if — if ' here she stopped, for it suddenly flashed BATfLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK. 101 across her mind that she had no dress in which she couUl appear in public with lier cousin. To hide her eniliarrass- luent she turned over a leaf and fort^ot it alto;^flher as her eyes rested on a view of Meran, with its beautiful suburb of Obermais. ' There, there we lived,' she said, her colour rising as she extended her hand to the print, 'just beside that church — I do believe tliese are the windows of our little drawing-room — we could see the Zenoburg and the road to the Castle of Tvrol from them. You have been to see the remains of the old castle?' * Yes,' said Arthur, 'the view from that long room, which, hy-the-bv, is not at all ancient looking, is the most beautiful imaginable — without water.' ' But there is the Adige,' cried Nora, eagerly; * one can follow the course of tiie river for miles.' 'True, but it looks like a silver thread; and to satisfy me, half the valley ought to have been under water in the form of a lake — 1 dure say it was, once upon a time.' ' If you were not enchanted with that view, just as you found it,' saitl Nora, * we must never travel, nor even look at prints together.' and she prepared to close the book. * Surely you will allow me to differ from you in opinion occasionally,' lie said, preventing her from doing so ; 'if we always thouglit alike there would be an end to all con- versation.' * But,' said Nora, 'I am afraid you are like most travelled Englishmen, and will contrive to find something to criticise everywhere.' ' Try me,' said Arthur. * This is Kamoiz,' she said, pointing to a castellated building. 'You know Kametz? ' Arthur nodded. * And the very fat Italian doctor to whom it belongs?* * No.' 'The son of a peasant of Meran, who studied in Italy, became a celebrated physician, saved money, returned home to purchase the ruins among which he had played as a boy, and restored, and rebuilt, and added ' Arthur laughed. Nora stopped, and looked at him inquiringly. * 1 had not time to llnd out all this,' he said; ' but it 102 Battledore asd shuttlecock. accounts most satisfactorily for tlie confusion of architec- ture, which you must allow to be ratlier evident in the editice.' * What do I care for the architecture?' said Kora. • I did not go to Rametz to see a Gothic church or Grecian temple ; I went with gay friends to sup under the vines, and to stand on the balcony after sunset, and watch the shadows of evening spreading over the valley — I have stood there until the mountain tops were lighted by the moon, and ' here she stopped again. ' Go on,' said Arthur. ' No,' answered Nora, ' you are laughing at me. You do not understand me, and cannot comprehend the dis- tinctness with which I can recall those scenes, and re- member every word I there heard spoken.' ' I can, I do,' cried Arthur, eagerly ; ' the terrible mo- notony of your present existence makes you return to and live in the past. Nora,' he added, lowering his voice, though they were alone in the room, ' are you very un- happy here ? ' 'No — oh no — by no means — only a little lonely some- times ; but that is the fault of my education, I suppose. Had I been born and brought up in London, I dare say I should have quite enjoyed being shut up — that is a — rather confined to the house as I now am.' * Do you go out so very seldom ? ' asked Arthur. ' Not at all, excepting to church, and occasionally to walk in the square,' she answered, and then fearing a re- newal of his proposal to take her out the ensuing day, she again bent over the prints, and pointing to Schoena, asked if he had been there too. ' No, I had not time ; in two days one cannot go to all these places.' ' I am sorry you did not go to Schoena, for the archi- tecture is quite correct there, I believe. A stronghold of the middle ages, with massive walls, small windows, vaulted corridors, armory hull, and so forth. I don't understand much about these things, and confess that the history of one of its last possessors, before it was purchased by the Archduke John, interested me more thau the place itself ' BATTLEDOBl^ AND SUUriLECUCK. 10.* ' And what was his story ? ' asked Arthur. ' Ilcr story, you must say,' answered Nora. ' She mar- ried a peasant, and retired with liim to a small house, which she built lower dowu ou the hill.' ' Some handsome fellow, no doubt,' observed Arthur. ' I did not ask,' said Nora, thoughtfully ; ' they said she was not happy ' ' I dare say not,' interposed Arthur. ' A descent, or rather a fall in rank, is always a dangerous experi- ment for a woman, and a dame chatelaine, who be- comes a peasant's wife, has a very difficult lesson to learn : the sort of love, too, which induces her to take such a step is not of a description to last long, or enable her to bear her unavoidable trials with patience.' • The peasant, who spoke to us about her, seemed to be of your opinion also, and evidently disapproved of the match ; he would have told us more, perhaps, had papa been disposed to listen. Almost all the old castles about Meran have not only ancient but also modern histoiies, bome of them quite romantic ; at Fragsburg, for instance, one of the most isolated of them all, where we went in the hope of seeing a curious collection of family portraits described in Seawald's " Tyrol," we found a widow with a son and daughter, obliged by circumstances to reside there constantly, hardly able to keep the great pile of building in repair, yet clinging with affection to the very stones. The ancestors' pictures had been disposed of in the Charles Surface manner, and no rich uncle having made his ap- pearance as purchaser, they ' Here dinner was announced ; but Arthur only waited until his father slept afterwards to return to Nora, pro- fessedly to hear the remainder of the story, but, in fact, to talk of other things, and tind out as much as he could of the mind and attainments of a relative, who, in the very lieart of London, was nearly as much alone as the young shy girl she so graphically described standing beneath the old Cg-tree in the dilapidated court at Frag;,burg. Artimr had an evening engagement, but seemed in no hurry to leave home ; the announcement of his cab wan received with an impatient wave of his hand, nor did ho again think of it. or the Countess of Allcourt's ball, untU 104 BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK. liis father had gone to Led, and Nora parted from him in the hall. Even afterwards he stood watching her ascent of the stairs, compelling her frequently to look over the banisters, and answer his reiterated ' good-night.' It was remarked that Arthur paid very little attention to the countess's daughter, Lady Erameline, that evening ; the young lady herself seemed to consider an officer in the Blues a very good substitute; but her mother thought otherwise, as she was by no means unwilling to bestow one of her numerous progeny on Xixon the millionnaire, a man of such undoubted talent that it was generally supposed he could become anything he pleased. Arthur was not ignorant of the favourable opinion entertained of his for- tune and intellect, and in no way endeavoured to lower it ; he called himself a ' marrying man,' spoke of purchasing landed property, and hinted an intention of entering Pai-- liament the first convenient opportunity. Once only that night did he address Lady Emraeline, and when she was afterwards questioned by her mother on the subject of his apparently interesting though short conversation, she as- sured her he had spoken of nothing but the charms of — ■ battledore and shuttlecock, which he pronounced to be the most perfectly graceful game ever invented, and one that rendered a handsome woman, when playing, irresistibly captivating. The fact was, Nora's face and figure had that day taken Arthur's heart by storm, and he could only wonder at his previous insensibility ; while thenceforward, without the slightest consideration of the consequences, or the faintest attempt to overcome the headstrong passion that he felt taking possession of him, he yielded to every impulse, and before many days had elapsed, made Nora perfectly aware that his heart was hers, and that he wished her to know it. There are few things that ought to be less gratifying to a woman than becoming the object of a sudden and violent passion of this kind, yet there are not many who remember that the feeling has its source in an exaggerated estimation of mere personal beauty, and remain un flattered by it. Nora attempted no analysis ; she received Arthur's homage as willingly as it was offered; and found that his earnest devotion contrasted pleasantly with her recollection of Lord BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK. 105 Medway's languid regard. He soon began to remain much at home, at first ostensibly to direct licr studios in English literature, of wliicli slie I'ancicd herself unusually ignorant, afterwards to improve himself in German, wliicli she undoubtedly understood better than English, though nothing annoyed her more than being told so. Both oc- cupations were dangerous, for they led to mutual dis- coveries of talent, that, in the common intercourse of life, might long have remained concealed ; and when Arthur in lime learned to appreciate her mind even more than her person, and began to meditate a sacrifice in her favour of his long-cherished matrimouial plans, the very idea of which would haveappeared incipient madness tohim afew montlis previously, Nora, not for a moment doubting his intentions, gave herself an infinity of trouble to return his affection, as she thought it deserved, and laboured not unsuccessfully to become reconciled to what her foreign education made her contemplate without much aversion, a muriate de con- renance et raison. The weather had become sultry, windows and doors were opened, the large drawing-rooms in use by common consent, and either Nora remained longer in the dining-room, or her uncle's drowsiness was increased by heat, for she was seldom more than a few minutes alone after dinner before Arthur was again at her side. She had learned to expect this, and many other little attentions of so unobtrusive a nature, that though perfectly understood by her, they were completely unobserved by her uncle. One day, before and during dinner, Arthur had used all his eloquence to induce his father to go abroad, if only for a few weeks, during the summer, promising to show him scenery, of which he had not yet even an idea ; pictures and statues of which he had but read descriptions; and ending with the assurance that none of his habits should be interfered with, none of his usual comforts forgotten; he and Nora would undertake to make him enjoy himself perfectly, and travelling w.as now so easy ! * Kather too easy, Arthur,' replied Mr. Ni.xon, dryly. ' As to my ever leaving home, that is out of the question ; but that you want to take flight again is evident enough. Now, without intending to dictate, let rae tell you that I should lOr) BATTLEDOliE AND SIlLirLECOCK. be glad to hear you had at last begun to think seriously of establishing yourself in your own country; half my for- tune is yours whenever yoa choose to do so.' * I cannot — say — that I feel — any great inclination just now to — accept your — really very — liberal offer,' said Arthiu", with some hesitation and evident embarrassment. Mr. Nixon, who had already begun to stretch and com pose himself for a doze, suddenly raised himself upright in his chair, and, fixing his eyes on his son, observed, ' You have remained at home a good deal lately, Arthur ; I hope that no quarrel with Lady Emmeline has been the cause, or that any difficulty on the part of her family is likely to interfere with our plans. You did not seem to apprehend anything of that kind when we last spoke on this subject.' ' Nor do I now,' answered Arthur, with all the confidence usually manifested by his sex on such occasions ; and he glanced towards Nora, as he added, ' Any delays or diffi- culties that may henceforward occur are likely to be on my side.' Now this was the first time that Lady Emmeline had been so mentioned in Nora's presence ; and though not by any means as yet deeply attached to her cousin, she had 60 completely made np her mind to become his wife, that she could not hear unmoved so plain an intimation that he was engaged, or nearly so, to another woman. She looked alternately at her companions in a bewildered, inquiring manner, felt herself blush intensely, and then rising, with as much calmness as she could command, murmured something about leaving them alone to discuss affairs of such importance, and walked towards the door, to which her cousin sprang before her, and where he bent forward as she passed him, in the vain hope that she would look at or speak to him. Before Nora had reached the drawing-room, her con- sternation at what she had just heard began to abate. No one but herself knew what she had expected and intended, and no one ever should know the efforts she had made to return the affection of a man, who, it was now evident, had only been amusing himself with her. Was it right or honourable that he had done so? It is true he had never uttered the icord love, or spoken of marriage, but — ■ BATTLEDORE AND SUUTTLECOCK. 107 but — no matter — men were inuloubtedly at liberty to act iu this nuuiuer if women allowed them. \Viih her, at least, no one should ever trille again ; she had received a painful and mortifving lesson, but had reason to be thank- ful that she had not been wounded iu a manner to destroy her happiness irretrievably. It was, after all, a disap- pointmeut in marriage, and not in love — a disappointment unknown to all the world, easily concealed, not venj hard to bear, and she believed she should in future distrust all mankmd, and despise and dislike that portion of it to which Arthur NL\on belonged. Having come to this conclusion, she walked into the back drawing-room, opened wide one of the windows. and gasped for breath in a manner that strongly resembled a succession of deep sighs. The evening was oppressively warm ; and being dressed, for a reason already mentioned, in the indestructible black velvet, she naturally concluded that the sensation of suffocation proceeded altogether from her unseasonable attire. This led her to long reflections on poverty and dependence, that were by no means ex- hilarating ; 80 that as she stood half on the balcony, half in the room, now growing dusky in the twilight, her anger subsided slowly into a despondeucy, that better suited the scene around her. A strong current of air made her aware of the opening of the door of the front room ; it ceased immediately, and she was provoked to find her heart beating violently, her hands cold and trembling, as 6he pressed them together in the agitation and dread of a meeting, and, perhaps, explanation, with Arthur. She wished to get out of the room, but could not do so without passing the open folding-door and being seen. Suddenly she remembered having heard her mother say, that to prevent an untimely exhibition of agitation, there was no better remedy than a severe pinch administered to the back of the neck, which pinch was to be repeated until it took effect. She raised her hand, and — was it the pain, or hearing her uncle's voice, that so effectually tranquii- lised her".' She knew not, nor had she time to consider, for unfortunately perceiving the room unoccupied, the first words that Mr. Ni.xon uttered were of a nature to compel her to remain where she was, in order not to 108 BATTLEDOr.E AND SHUTTLECOCK. embarrass him, and place herself in an intolerably morti- fving position. She therefore endeavoured to put herself out of sight and hearing bv standing on the balcony, while her uncle continued — ' No one can be more sincerely attached to Nora than I now am : she is a good and a clever girl— yes, a very clever girl, and pretty, and inter- esting, and all that you have said, but such a connection for you would destroy all our plans and hopes of rising in the world. I am sorry to perceive that your opinions on this subject have begun to waver: be yourself again, Arthur, and follow the course that will enable you to found a family, and obtain a name ! This first step is of the greatest importance, and any attempt to evade it will place you in my position, and force you to realise your ambition in the person of your son. Want of fortune may easily be overlooked on our side, but want of rank — never I ' * I thought,' began Arthur, hesitatingly, ' that perhaps my own numerous personal friends, and her relationship with the Medways ' * They all but deny the relationship,' said his father, intenupting him : 'Lord Medway, indeed, attracted pro- bably by her youth and good looks, wished his mother to retain her in the family, but her ladyship was, in con- sequence, rendered even more anxious to get rid of her on any terras. She even sent for her son Charles, who was at Vienna, to manage the affair. You shall see his letters to me; they will show you in what light the Thorpe family view the relationship ! Nothing could be more downright than his statement of facts ; and it was not flattering to Nora, I can tell you : but I neither blamed him nor his mother for acting precisely as I should do myself in a sin)ilar case.' ' AVere I to be the object acted upon,' said Arthur, ' such plans would most certainly fail ; but Nora was young and inexperienced, and Lord Medway an indolent, wavering fellow, who always has been, and always will be, completely governed by those about him. I have yet to discover the man who can rule me openly or covertly.' * You prefer being ruled by women,' observed his fr-'her, sarcastically. * But come : the most perfect confidence BATTLEDORE AND snCTTf.ECOCK. 109 lias liitlierto existed between ii3, and will, I trust, continue as long as we live ; believe me. this foolish fancy for your black-eved cousin will pass over, as others have done. I know that your ambition fully equals mine : marry this Ladv Emm'eliue, get into Pariiament, and let me see you a man of consequence, if not of rank, before I die.' ' Had you so spoken a few weeks ago,' said Arthur, gloomilv, 'your words would have found an echo, if not in my heart, certainly in my head; but now ' 'You surely do not mean to say that you have drlibe- rately been making a fool of yourself for that length of time. Arthur?' •I mean to say that I then admired, but now love Nora — sincerely, deeply, passionately — as I have never loved before, and never shall again. I fear — I — cannot forget her.' ' Time will enable you to do so,' said Mr. Xixon. quietly. 'Time must do you this good service, Arthur, for I will never give my consent to your marriage with lier. To all your other follies I have been more than fndulgent, and am now prepared to make any sacrifice to give you a position in the world ; it seems to me, also, that you have already paid this Lady Einmeline too much attention to be able to draw back with honour ' • Oh, no I' cried Arthur, with a slight sneer: 'in this world of fashion that we value so highly, one is not so easily caught and bound as elsewhere. 1 consider myself still quite at liberty.' ♦Oh, indeed!' said his father. • Then, perhaps, you prefer one of the daughters of Lord Witherington? Having never seen any of these young ladies, I do not venture to give an opinion ; in the latter case, yon will, of course, go abroad again, and — Nora can then remain with me." • That she can do at all events,' said Arthur. • After what you have just said, I cannot speak to lier, and every- thin^T remains as it was, before this foolish confession of mine.' • Not quite,' said Mr. Nixon, ' for if you do not decide on either marrying Lady Emmeline, or joining the Wither- ingtons at Baden, where you told me they now are, I shaii consider it necessary to seud Nora, for some time at least, 110 BATTLEDOUE AND SHUTTLECOCK. to your uncle Gilbert's. He and Georgina will I know bo quite pleased to have her.* * I dare say they will,' replied Arthur; 'but I am much mistaken if they ever let her return to you.' * GiU)crt will scarcely interfere with me, after my having told him of my intention to give her two thousand pounds,' said Mr. Nixon. ' Have you done so?' asked Arthur, quickly. ' Certainly. The very day after she consented to remain with me, I placed the sum in the Bank for her.' * Then,' rejoined Arthur, ' I think you had better hence- forward allow her to receive the interest of this splendid fortune, for this morning, when I was angry with her for persisting in her refusal to go out with me, Ducker told me in confidence, that the poor dear girl had outgrown all her clothes and had no money to replace them.' 'Why did she not tell me?' said Mr. Nixon; 'the slightest hint would have been suflQcient.' ' I do not think Nora likely ever to hint a wish of the kind,' said Arthur ; ' but you are bound to supply her wants, and make her existence as endurable as possible, after having refused to resign her to your brother, or give her to me ; — after having, in short, deliberately resolved to bury her alive in this house.' ' I really do not understand what you, and Gilbert, and Georgina, mean by eternally harping on the horrors of this house,' said Mr. Nixon, testily. ' Nora's life is not more solitary than that of thousands of others in London. I cannot perceive why she is such an object of pity — her time is at her own disposal, I give her a home, and ' ' And,' said Arthur, sarcastically, ' and food, and even raiment, perhaps ; but you seem altogether to forget that her previous life has been spent in the enjoyment of bright skies and magnificent scenery, gay society, and all that art can offer to improve and refine the taste. As to comparing her to those who have been born and bred in London, it is absurd. Canaries reared in a cage aro happy there, knowing no gayer kind of life ; but other and rarer birds mourn their captivity, and find the shelter and food given them a poor exchange for liberty.' ' In order to answer j-ou in the same strain, Arthur, leJ TO MARRY, OR, NOT TO MARRY. HI me tell vou, that you will compel me to set mj rare bird at libertv, if you do not soon begin to think and speak more rationally than you have done for the last hour. I cannot, however, say,' added 2>lr. Nixon, walking towards the fire-place, and from habit leaning on the chimnay- piece, and gazing into the grate, ' I cannot, however, say that I feel in the least uneasy as to your ultimate decision ; the question is rather, now, whether you go abroad or rem.Hin at home.' * I shall remain here,' answered Arthur, sullenly. * And,' said Mr. Nixon, in the same calm voice, ' and propose for Lady Emmeline without further delay?' * To-night, or — never,' he replied vehemently, and then strode across the room and stepped out on the balcony. His father followed him, and Nora seized the oppor- tunity to glide unseen past the open door, and escape up stairs to her own room. CHAPTER XII. TO MARRY, OR NOT TO MARRY, — THAT IS THE QUESTION. It was with some slight trepidation that Nora descended to breakfast the next morning. Before her return to the drawing-room the previous evening, Arthur had left it, and probably the house also, and while afterwards awaiting the striking of ten o'clock, with an open book in her hand, her thoughts had been completely occupied by surmises as to how he and his father had parted. All her doubts on the subject were at once removed when she saw them standing together at one of the windows of the dining- room amicably engaged in the discussion of money matters. The words 'purchase' and 'settlement' were frequently repeated as she employed herself making tea at the breakfast-table, and while she was still considering whether or not Arthur's manner was tnat of a man who had taken the important step that had been so peremptorily enjoined him, her uncle advanced towards and informed her, that having, according to promise, placed two thousand pounds in her name in the IBank, she could draw the interest of that sum as she pleased, and when she pleased in future. 112 TO MARRY, Oil NOT TO MAKliY, — Prepared for this announcement, Nora thanked him x\aimly and appropriately; but when, sittinj^ down beside her, he thrust a l)ank note of large amount into her hand, saying that was for immediate use, she felt distressed, and stammered and coloured as a feeling that he was paying her for her disappointment flashed acmss her mind. Her uneasiness was, however, almost immediately relieved, when he turned towards Arthur, who stood with his back to them looking into the little garden, and observed, with a jocularity of manner very unusual to him, but denoting a satisfaction too great for concealment, ' Who would think now, Nora, that that man there was a bridegroom elect, the accepted lover of one of the prettiest girls in London ?' Nora perceived that her uncle had not thought at all of her on this occasion, so she looked up and observed quietly, 'Lady Emmeline, I suppose?' Now this was said with a composure that gave infinite satisfaction to herself, but struck Arthur as something so unexpected that he turned his flushed face round, and stared at her in astonishment. *I don't know what is the custom iu England, Arthur,' she continued, bending slightly over the table as she poured out the tea, * but abroad you know people expect to be congratulated by all their friends, and therefore ' ' For heaven's sake, spare me all such heartless for- malities I * he cried, interrupting her vehemently, while he seated himself further from her than had of late been his custom, and snatched up the nearest newspaper. There are few women, even at the age of seventeen or eighteen, who have not the power of concealing annoyance, disappointment, and mortification, if a strong motive make them desirous to do so : some hours' reflection had enabled Nora so effectually to overcome the portions cf all these feelings that had fallen to her lot, that she not only looked but felt calm, and she experienced a strange sort of satisfaction in showing her cousin that the commiseration he had perhaps intended to bestow on her would be quite thrown away. Now Arthur really loved Nora ; but such is the selfish- ness of man's heart, that he was disagreeably surprised THAT IS THE QUESTION. 113 and beyond moa'^ure inditjiinnt to fiiul that be had not made her as ur.huppy as himself. ' Let nic show you the advertisement of tlie sale of the house I spoke of just now.' said Mr. Nixon, supposin?^ his eon to be in search of it. when he saw his eyes wanderin^^ up and down the columns of the paper with impatient uncertainty. * It is there, just at the end of the j^age before you.' • I know the house well,' said Arthur, after a pause; ' it belon.iiis to Lord Treldeton's youn^ widow. I suppose her jointure is not sufliciently spleniiid to enable her to keep it, and that she intends to return to her family.' ' Do you know her?' asked Mr. Ni.von. • Of course I do — she is a daughter of Lord Wither- ington, and by many degrees the handsomest of the family. She is somewhat e.Ktravagant in her tastes, fond to e.xcess of all kinds of gaiety, but altogether one of the most charming women of my acquaintance. We very nearly fell in love with each other, just before she was engaged to Lord Trehloton.' •Would the house suit you?' asked Mr. Ni.xon, but little interested in the history of its possessor. * I should think so,' answered Arthur, ' for undoubtedly no expense has been spared to make it perfect.' * Then let us see about it this veiy day, before I go to the Citv,' said Mr. Nixon, beginning his breakfast without further delay. Nora attended little to the conversation that followed. She was considering if the very great change in Arthur's manner were necessary — if, instead of the murmured good TOoniing, and scarce perceptible bow when she had entered the room, he might not have given her his hand as usual, and looked at her and spoken to her. Perhaps he had some idea that he had not acted honourably — but no— he had observed the evening before, that in the world in which he lived, men were not bound as elsewhere, and he had certainly not in any way committed himself — had said, in fact, even loss than Lord Medway: there was some simi- larity in the two cases, and Arthur, slie now remembered, had not blamed him in the least, had rather approved of the iuterference of Charles Thorpe, and had undertaken 1 114 TO MARKT, OK, NOT TO MAnUT, — bis defence the very first time he had ever spoken to her alone. Perliaps he ^Y;ls glad that his father now compelled him to he prudent! One thing was certain and evident to her, that however much she might be admired or even loved, there was that in her position in the world which precluded all chance of marriage; this fact she resolved should not again escape her memory. A few days afterwards Arthur received as a gift from his father the spacious and completely furnished mansion of Lady Trehletoii : all the treasures of his rooms in Russell- square were conveyed to it, and various new and costly purchases added, so that between his house and visits to Lady Emmeline, he had little time to spare for home. When there, he was rather low-spirited, and failed not whenever an opportunity ofTered, and he chanced to bo alone ■^•ith Nora, to assure her that he was the most wretched of human beings, a martyr to the prejudices of the world and parental authority. Yet he hurried forward the preparations for his marriage with an energy that gave great satisfaction to the heads of both families, his fiither merely smiling ironically when he persisted in assuring him, he only wanted to have it over. Nora, in the mean while, apparently forgotten, had full leisure to renovate and improve her wardrobe. This she accomplished with judgment and taste ; her decision when purchasing and giving orders astonishing Mrs. Duciser, who conducted her to some of the large warehouses in the City, and to the Soho Bazaar, at her leisure hours, viz., between seven and nine o'clock in the morning. It is not alone simple Bob Acres who has discovered that • dress does make a difference.' The first day that Nora laid aside her mourning, and when dressing for dinner put on white muslin and rose-coloured ribbons, her glass told her something to the same effect, and it must be confessed she herself was more than satisfied with her appearance, as she looked at the reflection of her fair young face and graceful figure. She thought it probable her uncle would say something on the occasion, and prepared a little speech sf thanks, but on entering the drawing-room all thoughts of herself or her dress were lost in surprise and anxiety, when she saw Mr. Ni.xon walking up and down the room. TUAT IS THE QUESTION'. 1 ] 5 with pallid (ace and piirplo lips, and Arthur a^^tride upon a chair, his head bent down on liis liands. which seemed t» clutch the back of it ns if cramped, while he muttered, * Infernal affair altnrrether! ' As Nora closed the door, he looked up, started from hi^ seat, and added, ' Hanj^ me if I care much after all, were it not for my legion of friends and acquaintances ! ' •Cross the Channel until the affair has blown over,' sug- gested his father, following towards the door. * No ! ' he answered fiercely, ' I will face and brave them all : not one shall dare to pity me ! ' The door closed, and Nora was left alone until dinner was announced. At t;vble her uncle and cousin talked of politics and public affairs ; but she suspected they did so on account of the servants, and was confirmed iu this idea when profound silence followed their absence. For her own part she was so convinced that something very un- pleasant had occurred, and so perfectly at a loss as to its- nature, that she scarcely uttered a word, and left the- dining-room almost immediately after dinner. Arthur- and his father joined her at tea-time ; the former went out as usual, the latter read, or seemed to read, until ten o'clock, when Nora went to bed, feeling herself forcibly reminded that she was still a stranger iu her uncle's family. Too proud to show a particle of cui'iosity, she scarcely observed the next morning that both father and son were poring over a paragraph in one of the papers as they stood lo^^ether at the window ; but she could not help remarking afterwards that they were endeavouring to outstay each, other, and that a serious kind of manoeuvring was going- on, which ended by Mr. Nixou asking his son abruptly if he intended to tell Nora.' ' Certainly,' he replied ; *it is no secret, and I am very anxious to know what she will say.' Mr. Nixon fixed his eyes on her, while Arthur, folding the morning paper into a small form, placed it so before her that her eyes instantly fell on a paragraph headed ' Marriage in High Life,' in whicii the engagement of Ladv Emmeline Wary to her cousin the Marquis of Torrisfuri] was announced in the usual manner. 110 TO MAURY, — OR, NOT TO MAURY, — It was some moments before Nora could stammer, 'How is this ? was she not betrothed to you ?' • We have no betrothals in England,' replied Arthur. ' She was engaged to me publicly enough, and I thought; willingly too; but yesterday morning she informed me that she had long been attached to her cousin Torrisford, and entreated me to release her from a promise that had been in a manner extorted from her by her mother. Could I refuse? I felt myself atrociously and notoriously jilted, but any attempt to seek redress after such a confession on her part would only have served to render my position still moro ridiculous ; so having told her I was sorry her cousin had not known his own mind, and rewarded her constancy a few weeks earlier, I resigned my claims, and prepared myself to face the world's dread laugh as well as I could on such short notice.' Nora's colour mounted to her temples, and she paused for a moment before she observed, 'This is a most un- expected — a most undeserved indignity, Arthur. I am sincerely sorry for your disappointment.' ' I shall get over that easily enough,' he answered with a slight sneer ; ' my heart was wonderfully little engaged in this affiiir.* Mr. Nixon walked across the room, and placed himself behind Nora's chair, directly facing his son. ' But the vexatious mortiiication— the — the publicity' — • continued Nora, indignantly. ' Well,' he said, with a forced smile, 'I suppose I shall get over that too. Emmeline's avowal of an attachment to her cousin is infinitely less distressing to me now than it would have been after our marriage : she assured me he was in ignorance of her engagement to me when he wrote the letter from Naples, which she offered to show me, but which I declined reading. I suppose, however, that I must t-elieve her ; and I have serious thoughts of giving a proof of my good faith and exemplary patience by requesting an invitation to the wedding, which will be celebrated a few weeks hence.' So Arthur spoke to Nora, so also to all his friends and acquaintances, by no means avoiding them or the subject that formed the chief topic of discussion for nearly nine TUAT IS THE QLESTION. 117 days, after which it was forw months later, Mr. Nixon informed her that Arthur was engnged to be married to Lady Trehleton, the widowed daughter of the Marquis of Witherington. * Was it not from her that you bought his house ? ' she ashed, perceiving he expected her to say something. 'Yes. He writes that he supposes she had accepted him in order to get possession of it again : but he informs me also, towards the end of his letter, that she has con- fessed she would have married him seven years ago had he asked her before Lord Trebieton.' Xora remenil)ered having heard Arthur make some re- mark to this effect, and also his having said that she was young and handsome. ' Very handsome,' said Mr. Nixon, * and as they are to be married immediately, and do not return to England until spring. Arthur has sent me her picture in miniature. With undisguised interest Nora examined the portrait placed before her by her nncle : it was that of an extremely pretty woman of about five or six and twenty, magnificently dressed, and all her personal advantages so .judiciously displayed that it was impossible not to suspect her pos- sessed of more than a common portion of coquetry. Yet it was a pleasing, insinuating countenance, and Mr. Nixon was supremely satis^fied with it; he talked of his son's choice doing him credit, of the double connection acquired among the Witheringtons and Trebletons, doubted not that Arthur's house would become one of the most fashionablo in London — Lord Trebleton's had been so, whose fortune had not been so large as Arthur's would be — rank was a good thing, riches better, both together ruled the world — he wondered what Gilbnrt would say? Gilbert, who had not unsuccessfullj studied the peerage 132 SEVEN YEARS LATER. for some years, and l pletely to business, and so successfully, that he already began to rival his uncle Gilbert in fortunate speculations. SEVEN YEARS LATER. 135 The exultation of Mr. Nixou on these occasions was unboiuuled : he shook his son's hand every ten minutes, drank his health in champagne, and encouraged him to go on while fortune favoured hiui. And he did go on ; but while doing so, undermined his health completely. The sedentary work at his olhce, the constant mental excite- ment, and the climate of London, proved in the end too much for one who had hitherto led a life so dilTerent. He caught cold, neglected it, became hectic, and after having refused to consult the family physician or use any of Anne Ducker's remedies, quietly told Nora one evening as they sat alone together, that he believed he was — dying. At tirst she thought him jesting, but when he told her that his mother and all his maternal uncles and aunts had been the victims of consumption before the age of thirty, and that he had already in early youth been threatened with the treacherous disease, she entreated of him to see some eminent physician, and not treat so serious a matter lightly. ' 1 have already been to Dr. X , who gives me just one winter if I remain here ; but promises me a tolerable lease of life in a warmer climate.' * Then, Arthur, you must leave England this year — at once.' ' Impossible, Nora ; my presence just now is of the greatest importance.' ' I have no doubt of that; but if my uncle for a moment suspected that it was attended with danger to your life, ho would urge — insist on your leaving him.' ' He would be incredul(r;.s, Nora — would doubt the danger, and think I was merely tired of work. !My proposal that we should close accounts with Plumpton, and retire altogether, was evidently most otlensive to him, and 1 shall never renew it.' 'And for what pin-pose is he accumulating all this money ? ' asked Nora, impatiently, ' He says it is for me,' answered Arthur ; ' and had I a family I could, perhaps, understand him. For my own part, my only wish is to replace what I squandered on Morris Court, and that once accomplished, I am ready to— die ; for in good truth, Nora, I have little left to make life desirable.' 130 SEVEN YEARS LATEIl. * Arthur, how can vou say so?' * It is a nielanclioly foct,' lie continued, drawing hfs chair close to hers ; ' and now for once in my life I wish to speak to you without reserve. My life, Nora, has been a fiiikire — a complete fiulure. I will not blame my father — liC meant well ; but my education was a mistake from beginning to end ; yet, when it was supposed to be com- pleted, I had still time to redeem the past had I been so inclined, instead of which I plunged into a life of folly, idleness, and dissipation, and so frittered away my best. years in the pursuit of pleasure and novelty — making acquaintances, valued solely by me for their names, and by whom I was merely tolerated for my wealth.' ' Arthur, I cannot believe this either of you or your acquaintances.' ' You may,' he said dejectedly, ' for the exceptions were few, though I gloried at one time in knowing "every one" iu London ! Yet I was not without intellect, Nora ; you may remember how I scorned and condemned the life I was leading, when we first met.' Nora remembered that he had done so in words, but noi in acts, and could not give the ready assent he perhaps expected : he observed her silence and answered it. ' Yes, Nora, I saw and understood my position perfectly, and think — in fact I am sure — that a marriage with you then might have saved me from myself.' ' Arthur ! ' * We are talking of what happened or might have happened ages ago,' he continued, quietly. • I don't say that you were in love with me, Nora ; but you liked me, and would have married me.' ' Not without your father's consent, Arthur; and having confessed so much, let us end this useless retrospection.' 'It is not useless,' he rejoined, gazing gloomily into the fire. * I loved you as I believe a man seldom loves moro than once in his life, and had my father consented to our marriage ' * Arthur,' said Nora, rising, ' I cannot listen to you, if you talk in this way.' ' I have done,* he answered : ' my father refused his consent ; without it we should have been poor; and I waa SEVEN YEARS LATER. 137 an epjotist — uinvortliy of you — incapable of making a sacrifice even for — well — well — 1 know — you would not have accepted nie. Be it so, and let me tell you, that was my last chance of becoming a useful member of society^ my life since then has been a troubled dream.' 'Not so,' said Nora, compassionately ; 'you were of use to your country when in Parliament, and ' * ^Merely served to fill the house,' he said, interrupting her. * I did the work that any paid official could have done 89 well ; gave ray vote to those whose political opinions coincided with mine, and from whom I hoped, in time, to obtain place or power ; and when I was disappointed, I retired to Morris Court, to lead a still more worthless and selfish life.' •You judge yourself too severely,' interposed Nora. • Scarcely,' said Arthur, without looking up. ' Of the thousands lavished on the house and furniture intended for my own enjoyment, not one guinea was spent on the improvement of my tenantry. I knew nothing about them or their wants or wishes, understood nothing of agriculture — what business had I with landed property ? Could I but spend my life over again — or — part of it; could 1, with my present e.xperience, but return to the time when we first met, what a different life I should lead I ' He paused, and then added, ' I believe it is now seven years, Nora — seven years and some months since we first sat together, as we are doing now?' • Seven years,' she rejjeated, thoughtfully ; • how long they trere — how short they now appear ! ' * I remember our meeting on the stairs,' he continued, ' and that first evening, as if it were but yesterday. You were dressed in black velvet and point lace — an odd dress for a girl of si.xteen ; but it made you look like one of those charming pictures by the old masters on which one can gaze for ever.' ' The dear old dress ! * said Nora, pensively ; ' it would certainly appear less unsuitable to me now I ' ' Yet you are wonderfully little changed,' said Arthur; •and every perceptible alteration is for the better.' Nora smiled. *A great internal change has, I hope, taken place,* she said, quietly; *I should be sorry io 133 SEVEN YEARS LATER. tliink that seven or eight years' uninterrupted reading and Kictlitation have been quite lost upon me.' ' That they have not been lost, I am sure,* observed Arthur. ' With such a foundation as j'ou had to build upon, I have no doubt that by this time your information and learning far exceed those of most women.' ' I make no pretension wliatever to learning/ answered Nora ; 'and have, I assure you, only arrived at a conscious- ness of my profound ignorance on the subjects I understand best, and at not at all doubting it on all otliers.' ' And this is the result of eight years' steady reading in the tliree most literary modern languages ! ' said Arthur. ' Not quite : I have learned the meaning of the words, " Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." ' ' So have I,' said Arthur, with a sigh ; ' hutiny knowledge has been obtained by painful personal experience.' • Some e.xperienee I have had, too,' observed Nora ; ■ without it, the words of the Preacher would have made less impression on me : he says, " Of making many books there is no end ; and much study is a weariness of the flesh." ' ' Go on,' said Arthur. She continued: 'Let v& hear the conclusion of the whole matter — " Fear God, and keep his commandments : for this is the whole duty of man."' At this moment the door opened, and Mr. Nixon, in his chair, was slowly rolled towards the tea-table. When Nora, the next day, was alone with her uncle, she spoke to him very seriously of Arthur's state of health; but found it extremely difficult to make him believe that anything could be the matter with a man so full of energy and activity as his son. ' His cough ? that was con- stitutional. No one was exempt from colds and coughs during a London winter ; and she miglit remember what he had himself sutTered from the inlluenza the preceding year, though he had never allowed it to detain him one day from his office.' Mr. Nixon was most unwilling to lose either his son's services or society ; in the end, however, Noi'a's influence prevailed, and Arthur left them to meet his wife at Strasburg, and spend the winter and spring at Meran. When taking leave, he spoke so long and so warmly in BEVEN YEARS LATER. 139 praise of Nora to bis futlicr. that Mr. Ni-von at length said, • I umlerstand you, Arthur ; you think 1 ought to muUo some small addition to her fortune?' • Some great addition,' replied Arthur, earnestly; 'she has devoted the best yeai-s of her life to you — has been to you a daughter ; ueveV thiuk of her hereafter iu any other light.' From Nora be parted early in the morning, before his father was up. Slie had made breakfast for him in the study, and ])repaied to follow him into the hall, when he stopped suddenly, turned round, and said. ' You told me you had a commission for me; Nora, iu case I should go up the Rhine, and. 1 think, even said I could confer a great favour on you by undertaking it; that your saying this has been an inducement to me to choose that route I need scarcely assure you ; yet in the pain of parting I had nearly forgotten all about it.' ' I — have changed my mind,' said Nora, with evident embarrassment, ' and prefer asking you to undertake this commission for me when you are on your way home.' ' Nora, I may never return home, and that you know as well as 1 do. You spoke of Dusseldorf, where, I believe, your father lies buried; speak out, like the pious German girl that you are, and tell uie to visit his grave, and let you know" iu what state it is. The commission will not make me die one day sooner; and I see by your face that I have guessed it rightly.' ' Dear Arthur,' said Nora, with tears in her eyes, * I shall be so much obliged to you if you will perform this act of friendship. I iiave long been in correspondence with the landlady of the hotel where he died ; and as soon as I had eaved suQicient money to enable me to erect a monument, I sent her a drawing of my mothers tombstone, requesting her to have a similar one made for my father. It is this,' she added, taking a paper from her work-table ; ' I should have preferred leaving the space at the base altogether for (lowers ; but when no friends or relations are near to see that the grave is properly eared for, and supplied with fresh plants ' • 1 i^now — I know,' said Arthur. ' The neglected graves of the English in foreign churchyards have always grieved 140 SEVEN XEAIiS LATER. me by their contrast to the others ; but one has, at lea;,t, the certainty of being left undisturbed to turn to dust tlieie. For this reason,' he added, mournfully, 'wherever my life ends I shall be interi'ed ; and you, Nora, must now promise me, before we part, to visit my grave, to have a tombstcne such as this erected for ine, to plant flowers at its base, £nd with your own hands to place a wreath of evergreens on this ornament so evidently made for the purpose. Will you promise ? ' ' Life is uncertain, Arthur,' said Nora, making a greati effort to speak calmly ; ' but should I outlive you ' She placed her hand in his and turned away. * Don't waste a tear on nie now, dear girl,' he continued , ■ but bestow a few on the earth tliat will cover me sorae^ years hence, let us say : for. after all, if Alice take good care of me, who knows but I may hold out as long as Lord Medway, who, to my certain knowledge, has been dying these eight or nine years ? ' * * ♦ * Most unwillingly Nora wrote to recall Arthur the follow- ing spring, when her uncle's declining strength made his return home, for some time at least, desirable. But they never met again ; for, after a somewhat hurried journey through Tyrol, he was obliged to stop at a village in the Bavarian higlilands, and there, after a few days' illness, ended his life, and was buried, as he had desired, in the tranquil churchyard of the place. His wife returned to England, and related circnnibtantially to the broken-hearted father every incident of his last moments ; she was also the bearer of letters from him to Nora, to remind her of her promise to visit his grave — to his father, requesting hini to increase Lady Trebleton's jointure, and hoping he would henceforward consider Nora his adopted daughter, and pro- vide for her as his now only child. When Nora showed the letter she had received to her uncle, and spoke of her intention, at some future time, to make a pilgrimage to the church at Almenau, he took both her hands, and answered, with a solemnity that often after- wards recurred to her memory, ' I shall take care to supply you with money for the journey, Nora.' Not long after she found herself, ou his demise, one oi RLTLT.N TO GlIRMANY. 141 the richest heiresses in England, for, with the excepfioii of some legacies to the sorviints, her uncle had left her evervthinv,' he possessed. The care of erecting a monu- ment to the memory of his son was intrusted to her; and this, added to her own strong feeling of having a sacred promise to fulfil, made her long for the expiration of the lime that must intervene before she could set out on a journey abroad, which she secretly resolved should end in a residence of some duration in the land, which (ever prone to extremes) she now began to call hers, and to prefer to Enslaud ! CHAPTER XV RETUr.N TO GEIIMANY AFTER TEN \EARS' ABSENCE. Nora did not at first comprehend either her complete independence or immense increase of importance. She felt deeply having lost the only two relations to whom she had had an opportunity of becoming attached during the nine years she had spent in Piussell-square, for of the Gilbert Kixons she, as yet, scarcely knew anything. Her uncle Stephen had taken a dislike to Georgina, and, in a manner, forbidden her his house ; Mr. Sam Nixon, as contrast to his son Arthui-, he could scarcely learn to tolerate ; and it was more to please Nora than himself that he endnied, occasionally during the holidays, the visits of his brothers youngest son John. John had been, during the first years of Nora's acquaint- ance with him, as restless, noisy, and rude a schoolboy as could well be imagined, then he had changed into a bashful, awkward hobbledehoy, had aftcrwanls become a wild and idle collegian, and had, latterly, begun to talk incessantly about a commission in the Guards, which was to make a man of him. Through all these periods of his life, a steady and undisguised atTcction for Nora had induced him to visit at his uncle's house, and. in return, she had crammed the schoolboy with fruit and sweetmeats, supplied the collegian with small sums of money, and had, for some time, listened patiently to the ravings of the future hero, without in the least participating in his 142 RETURN TO GERMANY longings for ' a good smart war likely to give a fellow sometliing to do.' It had never occurred to Gilbert Nixon that Arthur might chance to die before his father, and when the event took place, he greatly regretted that Sam and Georgina had never been on good terms with their uncle, and that even John had by no means succeeded in making himself agreeable to him. The evil could not, however, be remedied; therefore, though not pleased, he was scarcely surprised to find that Nora alone was his brothers heiress. The fortune was certainly too large for a woman ; but he thought it not impi'obable if she came to live with them, that she might eventually become attached to, and marry one of bis sons. Sam was a steady, sensible fellow, likely enough to please such a quiet girl, and for Jack she had for years avowed her affection : it was a pity the latter was so much younger than she was, but if she bad any fancy for him, she might have him ; the boy required some one to keep him in order in a rational way ! So, after the funeral. Jack was sent to condole with her, Sam to assist her in looking over her uncles papers, and Georgina to invite her tc remove to Eaton-place. With John she went to visit her uncle's grave, and was shown the large damp flag, beneath which the remains of the Nixon family had been laid for two generations. It was in a dismal, high-walled churchyard, with undertakers' establishments in the neighbourhood, and John, who stood at the gate, soon grew tired of the gloomy objects around him, and called out, ' Come away, Nora, there 's no use in your making yourself unhappy about the place ; he chose to be buried here, and one churchyard is just as good as another in my opinion.' ' But not in mine,' said Nora. * Too soon for you to be thinking of such things ; and, for my part, I hope to die on a field of battle, but not until I have become a colonel — or, no — a general — I might be a general at fifty, Nora, and after that, a mau has not much to live for, eh ? ' ' I — don't — know,' said Nora, who had not heard a word that he said. * Have they no flowers in the churchvavds here. Jack?' dFTER TEN TEARS* ABSENCE 143 • Not thnt T know of,' lie aii'jwcied. ' Now do let 's go on, Nora — Sam is waiting: to help you to look over the papers, you know : and die sooner you come to live with us, and give up thinking in this uncomfortable way about churchyards, the better.' Among ^Ir. Nixon's papers, Nora found a small packet, on which were the words, ' Correspondence with the Hon. Charles Thorpe concerning my niece Leonora.' It was immediately transferred to her pocket, and kept for perusal when alone in the evening; the ink was pale, and the paper vellow with age, but the unkind construction put on her actions by Charles Thorpe, and the cold worldly tone of his letter, had still the power to produce a deep blush, and renew the strong feeling of resentment against him, that had now for some years lain dormant. 'I wish him no evil,' she murmured, as if in reply to the reproaches of her conscience; 'I believe I have learned to forgive him too — but he need not have blamed vie for his brother's infatuation, as he calls it. and the remark about my foreign education, making me by no means a desirable' companion for his sister Jane, was altogether unnecessary. This letter closed my uiicle Gilbert's door against rae at first, and accounts completely for the coldness and suspicion with which, for such a length of time, all my efforts to please were here received. I know we should '" love our enemies, and do good to them that hate us " — and I think I could do good to Charles Thorpe if an opportunity offered, but like him I never can. Never ! ' At the end of a few weeks Nora was glad to remove to her uticle Gilbert's more clieerful house. It did not occur to her to make any extraordinary additions to her ward- rolM?, or to expect the undivided services of a maid ; sho thnnUfully received the little assistance she required from 'Mrs. Ni>.bett, her cousin's /ionally put his life in jeopardy ibr a wager, or undertake daring and eccentric exploits, who can, at other times, be as quiet and gentle as any woman could desire.* Nora smiled, attempted no explanation, and merely paid, 'I have heard him praised often enough by his own family, but I kuow him to be an extremely worldly-minded and selfish man.' Sir Hariy shrugged his shoulders. ' He has lived constantly in the world, and liad to work his way in it — that makes the best jmax) worldly in time, and — selfish we all ai'e, more or less. For instance, he would certainly not seek or cultivate the acquaintance of these Nixons, or even tolerate them, as I have done for the last three weeks.' ' I am rejoiced to hear it.' said Nora, promptly, ' as it will prevent me from having the trouble of avoiding him.' • Do not imagine you will have any difficulty in doing 80,' rejoined her brother, with a malicious smile, glad perhaps to laugh a little at her in his turn, ' for I oflfered you to him after you became an heiress, and he declined the alliance, saying, that your paternal connections would prevent him from thinking of you, even were you twice as rich and twice as good-looking as you were said to be.' Nora felt greatly irritated, but wisely concealing her annoyance, said quietly, * Did it never occur to you that I might also decline the alliance V ' Why, uo — we concluded your foreign education would 156 RETURN TO GERMANY have taught j'ou to think rationally on such suhjeits, and I should have trusted the fulfilment of my wishes on this occasion to time and your pretty face. I have lately been inclined to suspect he spoke in that way in order to appear consistent, and that, having prevented his brother from marrying you, he is resolved, notwithstanding your present very different position in the world, to consider the match unsuitable. All this, however, need not prevent you from becoming good friends when you meet.' 'Of course not,' she answered, ironically; 'all you have just said is eminently calculated to remove my prejudices and make me like him I But let us not talk any more on so disagreeable a subject. Jane will, of course, write to me when the arrangements for your marriage are being made, and you can give me hints, at the same time, as to what would be most acceptable in the way of presents. You see I have already learned to play heiress, and know what will be expected from me.' 'You are a dear, wilful girl,' said her brother, as they parted ; ' but I still hope you will like Meilway as well as I am sure he will like you when he knows vou. Good- by.' Nora's room adjoined Georginas; but though, on entering it, she found the door of communication open, some minutes elapsed before she attended to her cousin's request that she would join her. ' Well, Nora — what do you say to your brothers engage- ment?' began Georgina, abruptly. * Had he told us of it immediately after his arrival here,* she answered, 'we — or, at least I, could not but have approved, for Jane is, by all accounts, what she formerly promised to be, a dear, good creature. His silence was quite unpardonable, and when you joined us in the cor- ridor, I had just been telling him so, and accusing him of duplicity towards you.' ' But you did not betray me ! ' cried Georgina, anxiously; ' you did not say that I ' Oh, no!' oaid Nora; '1 only spoke of what I had myself observed and expected.' ' I hope you think I acted judiciously in following; and epeakinf' to him again.' AFTER TEN TEARS* ABSENCE 157 • Quite right.' said Nora : ' he looked so completely put out that 1 could not help laui^liing at him.' ' And he uever suspected that 1 was actiug?' • I thiuk not.' •You, of course, understood me directly?' •Assuredly; and felt for you, and sympathised with you most sincerely. Events of this description, Georgina, are very annoying — very mortifying; and the only means to avoid them is by never bestowing a serious thought on any man who has not, like the lover in old Ducker's song, said, "Oh, will you marry me, my dear Ally Croker? Oh! will you ' If you can jest ' began Georgina, turning away, offended. • By no means,' said Nora, apologetically ; ' the words I have just spoken apply, I assure you, as much to myself as you. For my own part, I think it better to reserve every demonstration, and, as much as possible, every feeling of regard, until it becomes time to look over the marriage ceremony, and study properly the meaning of the important words — " I, N., take thee, M."' • You are quite right to say M., Nora.' ' Of course, you know those are the letters used.' • That was not what I meant. 1 have a strong suspicion that your brother wishes and hopes you may be induced to many Lord Med way.' 'Towards whom,' said Nora, a blush adding to the already deepened colour of her unusually flushed face, •towards whom I feel so little elective attraction, as Goethe calls it, that there are few things would give me greater pleasure than havi\)g an opportunity of proving how little I desire his acquaintance, or value the rank and station he so greatly overvalues.' 'What on earth do you mean?' e.xclaimed Georgina, surprised at her sudden vehemence ; * surely you must know him, whether you like it or not, when you meet, fef you are relations.' • The relationship,' said Nora, • is not near enough t<\ compel intimacy, and, were it not for this marriage of Harry's, might have been altogether forgotten. As far as I am concerned it has lain dormant for ten vears- and may 153 FIRST MOUNTAIN EXCLUSION remain ten more, if any cfTovt on my pnrt be necessary to rouse it. Let us not, however, waste another thought either on my brother or the ]Medway family, but tell me if you would like to leave Munich to-morrow.' ' Very much indeed,' said Georgina ; * I am quite -willing to go to your village whenever you please.' * I fear you will be equally ready to leave it, Georgina; for, as 1 have told you more than once, there are no grand hotels, or English travellers of distinction to be found in the quiet villages of the Bavarian highlands.' CHAPTER XVI. FIRST MOUNTAIN EXCURSION ATTEMPTED BY THE KIXON FAMILY. Nora's proposal to leave Munich was received the next morning with evident satisfaction by her uncle; and John's approbation was quickly obtained when she proposed, at the end of the first day's short .iouriiey, an ascent of the Peissenberg, to take a panoramic view of the mountains they were about to visit. ' I say, Norry, is this Peissenberg what you call an alp or aim ? ' he asked, drawing his cliair close to hers. ' I mean, is it one of those pasture-grounds on the mountains, where you told me the people send their cattle in summer, and pleasant parties are got up, and wild hunters take refuge? I wouldn't give a tig tor a mountain, now, that had not alps upon it, with handsome peasant-girls to take care of the cows, and sing the Fianzdes Vaches, and all that sort of thing.' ' The Peissenberg is not an alp,' answered Nora; ' it is merely a very high hill, running, promontory-like, into the plain, and consequently commanding an unusually extensive view. There is a church, a priest's house, and a small inn on the top ; and I think it will in every way suit us as a trial of strength for future excursions.' ' What do you say to this plan of Nora's ? ' asked John, turning to his father. * Wliy, aw — if there 's a tolerable road, aw — and our car- riage ' ATTEMPTED BY THE NIXON FAMir.T. 1.19 * Bless me, sir I you seem to have forgotten all about the Bavarian alps I ' ' I never heard of thera, that I can remember,' said Mr. Nixon. ' Don't you remember that Nora talked about them for more than an hour the day v\e decided on going abroad? and when we were planning excursions to them, you said you thought mountains must appear infinitely grander from their bases than from their summits.' ' The remark was good. Jack,' said Mr. Nixon, • very good. I believe I do recollect saying that ; and though of the same opinion still, yet, once in a way, with a donkey or a mule, and a steady guide. I 'm sure I 've no objection to ' ' You are talking as if we were on a tour in Switzerland, or at one of the much-frequented German springs,' cried John, impatiently ; ' and we have explained a dozen times that we are going to the most out-of-the-way places imagina- ble. Even this Peissenberg, though so near Munich, is not much known to English travellers, is it, Nora ? ' ' When I was there,' she answered, ' there was not one English name in the numerous '* Stranger Books " that had been for years cai-efully preserved by the priests there.' ' I am glad to hear that,' cried John ; ' for a more un- civil set of people than the English I have met since we left home I never saw in all my life — they scarcely answer when one speaks to them.' • Perhaps because you have not been introduced,' sug- gested Mr. Nixon. •Not exactly,' observed Nora; 'the English avoid each other on the Continent, to the great surprise of nil foreignei-3 ; but I have no doubt you would, for various reasons, do the same yourself if you had resided a few years abroad.' 'For my part,' said John, 'T don't want to know any- thing about them. If I could only speak French tolerably I sliould apply to the Germans ; they all mulerstand and speak it well ; and when I can't get on in their language, commence talking it as a matter of course : however, it's *oo late to learn French now, so you must help me on with your "gnmting guttural," Nora, that I maybe able to st>eak to the people at your village.' ICO FIRST MOUNTAIN EXCLT.SION Nora laughed, for John wished to be taught German, but wouhl not give himself the trouble of learning it. • Well, I suppose I may order horses,' he continued; •for though this place is not exactly on our way to Nora's churchyard, it is at least in a southerly direction, and there are roads from it to the mountains.' On the evening of the following day they left their heavily-pai;ked carriage to be stared at by the inhabitants of the village at the base of the Peissenberg. and com- menced the easy accent to the church they had long seen in the distance. Their way \ay through cornfields and meadows, bounded by woods, and occasionally past an iso- lated peasant house. Oaks, beech, and on the south side mulberry trees, grew luxuriantly ; and this, and the in- creasing extent of view, Nora pointed out to Mr. Nixon, as, with true English determination, he laboured manfully on, heedless of heat and shortened breath, declaring, when he heard that they should soon be at a height of 3,000 feet, that ' He rather liked the work, and shouldn't wonder if he became a famous mountain climber.' Nora and John were the first to reach the platform on which the church and adjacent buildings stand. They hurried round them, looked into the former, and then surveyed the rows of windows belonging to the priest's house, from the greater number of which groups of inqui- sitive faces returned their glances. For a few minutes Nora contemplated the wide expanse of plain that lay be- neath them, the forests, lakes, rivers, towns, villages, and castles that diversified the level landscape until it reached the distant, thickly-wooded hills that form a commencement to the chain of mountains extending along the whole ho- rizon, excepting in the direction towards Munich, where the towers rather than steeples of the Frauen church were still dimly visible in the grey cloudy vapour, indicating a long contiimation of the plain. John touched her arm, and with his eyes directed her attention to two figures not far distant from them. One was a young, middle-sized, well-proportioned man, negli- gently dressed in a suit of that light grey summer stuff which delies the power of the thickest clouds of dust to change its colour. A straw hat shaded his sunburnt face, ATTEMPTED BY THE NIXON FAMILY. 101 the features of which, ]u>j,h and shixrply defined, were rather intellectual than handsome, especially the long, deep- set, dark eyes, which were of extraordinary brilliancy, and seemed constantly in search of ohjects to amuse or interest him. His mouth was scarcely visible, so well cultivated had been the growth of the black moustache, which covered the upper lip and joined the harbe Grccque that, thick and short, nearly concealed his well-formed chin. He sat on the low wall which partly incloses the church and adjoining house, and on his knee was placed a portfolio, while on a loose sheet of paper he sketched with e.xtruordinary rapidity and correctness the country around him. At his side stood a handsome, athletic, noble-looking man in the prime of life, who. with folded arms and head very erect, looked alternately at his companions drawing and the distant range of mountains. As John and Nora approached, and the former endeavoured tc satisfy his curiosity by gliding behind the artist, he bestowed on them a glance of haughty in- terrogation that was by no means agreeable, and yet it was on him that Nora immediately centred her attention : be- cause she thought he looked like an Englishman. It may be asked. * What do Englishmen look like ?' and I believe it was Heinrich Heine who said, ' Like statues with the ends of the noses lopped off.' Now this man's nose was not deprived of any of its fair proportions, therefore it could not have been that feature which had influenced her judg- ment; nor on his broad forehead, of which she could just discern the lower luilf, was the word Englishman written ; nor in the large eyes and low-marked, meditative eyebrows, though English enough in their way; nor, nor, — in fact, she could not tell what it was ; but those more experienced in the study of physiognomy would have at once affirmed that it was the whiskers that so plainly said Civis Britanmis sum, and which, being without that continuation under the chin denominated iflritf Grccque, were particularly English- looking in a country where lip and chin beards grow so redundantly as in Bavaria. In the year 1850 Mr. Dickens had not yet asked the English nation why they shaved : nor had the god of war procured for the military part of it the permission to pack up their razors and deposit them in the open temple of Janus. ^lost Eni^lishmen's laces M 102 FinST MOUNTAIN EXCURSIOIi were, therefore, still carefully shaved, and many still re* mained in ir^norance of the dilTerent expressions of counte- nance that can be produced by a variation in the form of these hairy accessories. A very short study of this important eulijoct, with the aid of a few pencil or chalk sketches, will lead to the conclusion that whiskers a I'Anfjlaise, and ditto with continuations a la Grecqiie, ought to be abolished, as tending greatly to increase that most humiliating re- semblance between men and apes; while a moustache may be tolerated from its having the contrary eifect, inasmuch as no ape has yet been found with one ; and, indeed, a moustache would be bestowed in vain on animals incapable of discovering the expression of cheerfulness imparted to the face by the turning of it upwards, the serenity by a horizontal position, the gravity by an inclination downwai'ds, the ferocity by a shadowing of the under lip with it ! Nora knew nothing of all this, and was so unconsciously an ob- server of whiskers, that had she discovered herself spe- culating on the subject she would, undoubtedly, have been very much surprised. Just as she had detected a slightly foreign accent in the few correct German sentences that the stranger addressed to his companion, John ex- claimed : — ' Look, Nora, here they come, regularly blown, and Georgy as pale as a ghost.' 'Hard work, Nora — hard work,' cried Mr. Nixon, still panting for breath as he joined her; ' but the view is fine — very fine indeed : reminds me of Richmond — greatly The countiy not so cultivated or thickly inhabited, eh ?' ' Richmond I ' exclaimed John, ' who could think of Richmond with such mountains staring one in the face? I must say I cannot discover the slightest resemblance.' 'Must be, Jack, or I should not have thought of it — green hill — look downwards — beech trees — water — veiy like Richmond ! ' Here he walked up to the young man who was drawing, and after having watched him for a short time in silence, he added, pompously, ' Hum — aw — draws well — these Munich artists are clever fellows.' The artist continued his occupation, either unconscious or indifferent to the commendation bestowed, until ]\Ir. Ni.xon, unwilling to deprive him of the satisfaction, which ATFEMPTED DY THE NIXON FAMILY. 103 he nover for one motnont doubted the approbation of an EiiL^lishnian must atVord him. touched his sliouldcr, and first pointiujT downwards and then to the sketcli, signified expressively that he knew perfectly the part of the land- scape there represented. An impatient gesture was all the notice taken of his pantomime ; and imagining himself misunderstood, he repeated it, uttering at the same time a succession of those inarticulate, inharmonious sounds or grunts, gene- rally used by dumb persons, while at the same time he nodded his head and smiled good-humouredly. The young man at last looked up with flashing eyes ; but scarcely had they encountered Mr. Nixon's bull:y person than the expression totally changed, and placing the end of his pencil under one of his front teeth, he deliberately inspected the whole party without an attempt to conceal the amusement they atVorded him. Nora drew back, while John whispered rather loudly, • There 's an artist for you, Nora ! You say they are better worth knowing than other people ; that they are always gentlemanlike in manner and picturesque in appear- ance ! Now how should you like to sit to that chap for your picture?' 'Hush,' she replied, turning away from the bright, laughing eyes that seemed to have singled her out from the others. * Don't speak so loud, perhaps he may un- derstand what you say. I am afraid he thinks us very rude.' * Kude to admire his drawing I What can an artist desire more than to have his performances admired ? Perhaps, however, you think he is not an artist?' ' He may be,' answered Nora, ' but he is evidently a gentleman also, and does not like to be the object of idle curiosity.' Georgina took her father's arm and retired into the house, her head even higher than usual. * I say, Nora,' cried John, seating himself astride on the wall, at. some distance from the strangers, and beginning to pitch the pebbles, and bits of loose lime upon it, down the hill, ' the wonderful sunset you promised us from this place seems rather a failure ; those thunderclouds may be very grand, but they are not pleasant to look at.' 1C4 FinST MOUNTAIN EXCUKSION 'I am beginning rather to fear a change of weather.' she answered, 'so that we may be disappointed in the sunrise as well as sunset. I am sorry for it, as we are not likely to see so e.Ktensive a view agajn.' ' What ! not on your famous Alps, which are so much higher?' 'The views from the Alps are generally more confined,' she replied, ' for the mountains are nearer and more heaped together ; and there is seldom such an extent of plain to be seen from them as we have now before us. However, it would never do to keep my uncle up here waiting for a picturesque sunrise, though I should be tempted to remain a dsy or two myself for the purpose, were I alone. Let us look at your map, and find out the pleasantest road to Almenau.' ' I dare say that fellow with the portfolio could tell us all about it,' observed John ; ' but 1 suspect civil answers are not in his line. He looked furious when the governor touched him, and I cannot say I have any fancy for figuring among his sketches as a caricature ; I dare say he had some intention of the kind, or he would not have stared at us so.' ' The other,' began Xora, ' th.e quiet man, is, I think, an Englishman, and tliorefore we had better avoid ' ' An Englishman ! ' he exclaimed. ' If that be the case I '11 just go at once and ' ' Oh, pray, John.' cried Xora, catching his arm to detain him ; ' I entreat — I ' But he broke from her, and, with feelings of indescribable annoyance, she saw hira approach and address their haughty-looking countryman. What he said she coufd not hear. That he was allowed to speak without the slightest interruption, or even a gesture denoting interest, was evident ; but the artist, clapping his portfolio together and placing it in one of his capacious pockets, stood up and seemed more disposed to be communicative than his friend. John turned towards him, and a very animated conversation began, which ap- peared so displeasing to the ' quiet man,' that he thrust bis hands into the pockets of the paletot and walked off. John's map was then produced, spread out on the wall, and for some time the places and roads on it were evidently ATTEMPTED BY THE NIXON FAMILY. 105 the sulijcct of discussion. When, however, Nora perceived the elbows instead of fingers were placed upon it, that the intelligent countenance of the artist assumed an expression of intense curiositv, that he spoke less and listened more than at first, she felt convinced that her friend Jack was becoming more confidential than was necessary, and after a few momenta' hesitation she resolved to interrupt the conference. As slie approached she heard the artist say in very cor- rect English, but with a strong foreign accent, • I compre- hend perfectly; the old gentleman is to be induced to go to Ammergau— but you suppose he will object to the great mystery. It is a great pity, for it is very interesting.' 'What mystery'?' asked Nora, her curiosity completely overcoming her reserve. The artist raised his straw hat, and let the wind blow his hair in all directions, while John answered, ' Oh, Nora, I have made out such a delightful plan, if we can only get the governor to consent ! This !Mr, a — a ' * Waldemar,' said the other, with a gay smile, ' my name is Waldemar.' ' Mr. Waldemar says thathe and his friend, whom you were quite right in supposing an Englishman, are now on their way to the very place we are going to ; and intend to sketch, and fish, and shoot there, until they cross the mountains to the valley of the Inn in Tyrol, where they have friends expecting them some time about the end of the month ! ' ' But what is the great mystery ?' asked Nora. ' Well may you ask what is the mystery,' replied John, laughing ; ' it is a religious play to be performed at a village called Ober- Ammergau, perhaps the only place in the world where such a thing is now to be seen in such perfection. And only think, Nora, it is altogether got up by the in- habitants of the village — the people who carve those famous figures in wood that you and Georgy bought in Munich ! and crowds of people are now on their way there, because, you see, these villagers only perform their mystery every ten years, and Mr. Waldemar says their stage is quite classical, and all that sort of thing.' ' It is certainly well worth your going a little out of youi way to see,' observed Waldemar. IOC FIRST MOCNTAIN EXCUllSION * In fact,' Siiid Nora, 'as we have no way to go out of, no settled plan whatever for some weeks, I do not think there is anything to prevent us.' * The governor,' said John, shaking his head. •What objection can he possibly have?' ' Do you really know what this mystery is, Nora?' ' I did not when you first mentioned it ; but I understand row that you mean the performance of one of those reli- gious dramas which were as common in the middle ages as they are uncommon now.' * Exactly ; but it is the passion of our Saviour — the crucifixion that is to be represented. I am afraid my father will object — will think it improper — profane, perhaps !' ' He can hardly think it profane,' observed Waldem/ir, ' when you remind him that the Christian mysteries ori- ginated among the ecclesiastics, and wei'e, it is said, first acted by monks in the churches. Bishops, and if I am not mistaken one of the Popes^ composed mysteries, and encouraged in every possible way the performances.' ' Oh, that would be no sort of recommendation to our governor,' cried John, half laughing, while he twisted him- self round on his heels. ' We '11 keep " dark " about that.' * Then you can tell him,' continued Waldeniar, ' that they were acted in England in the reigu of j'our King James.' ' That 's a good point at least. Don't forget that when you speak to him, Nora.' ' And,' added Waldemar, 'they were frequently performed at universities and schools.' ' Better and better,' cried John. ' In fact, Nora, you can say that they are most interesting and highly moral performances.' ' They may promote morality,' said Waldemar, smiling ; * but this representation at Ober-Ammergau is not at all what used to be called Moralities.' ' I know very little about the matter,' said John, ' but I confess I should like to see something of the kind.' * Strictly speaking,' said Waldemar, ' the Mysteries or Miracle plays merely represent stories, according to the letter of Scripture, or the legend to be represented. The Moralities were not altogether destitute of plan and plot, and inculcated a moral by means of allegorical characters.' ATTEMPTED BY THE NIXON FAMILY. 1C7 * Oh, the governor knows nothing about all these distinc- tions ; — we uught call it a Morality, Nora, if j-ou think it would sound better.' * No,' she answered, gravely ; * if I am to speak to him, I must know what I am talking about, and call things by their right names.' ' I do not think it is called either ^Mystery or Morality.' said Waldeniar, drawing from his pocket a pamphlet. * How would you translate that ? ' he added, pointing to the title-page. She bent forward and read aloud — ♦ The Great Sacrifice at Golgotha ; or. The Sufferings ond Death of Jesus, according to the Four Evangelist? — - with Tableau.x. from the Old Testament for contemplation and edification ' Either impelled by impatience or curiosity, the English- man joined them just as Nora thoughtfully observed, ' The name appears unimpeachable ; whether or not such sacred subjects can be properly used for the stage, without irre- verence or — or — profanation ' ' Pshaw, Nora, dont you be squeamish ; it was only from ray father that I expected opposition — I never thought of your demurring in this way. You look as grave as if we were trying to persuade you to witness a Pagan instead of a Cliristian mystery.' ' Torp,' cried Waldemar, turning ♦^o his friend, 'can you not help us to remove the unnecessary scruples of your countrywoman '? ' • No,' he answered, gravely, ' I can not, because I don't think them unnecessary. I feel them myself.' ' But you are going to Ammergau all the same ! ' cried John, with a laugh. ' He is going there to get rid of them,' observed Walde- mar, with an atfectation of gravity ; * but Torp is so strictly evangelical in his ideas, that if he see anything to displease him he will be sure to leave the theatre in a manner to mark his disapproval.' 'A clergyman, of course ? ' said John, turning to Torp. •No.' ' Hum — that's a pity — as you could have spoken to our governor, and ' 1G8 FIKbT AIOUNTAIN EXCUKSION ' Excuse me ' began Torp, loftily. • Oh, it's of no consequence,' cried John, turniug awat from him ; ' you can be of no manner of use to us as you are not a clergymau. Kow, Nora, just go to my father and tell him exactly what is necessary for him to know, and no more. If ue don't approve of all we may see at Ammergau, we can walk off you know, as Mr. Torp here intends to do.' Still Nora hesitated. 'If,' she said, musingly, 'if it were one of those miracle plays taken from the Old Testa- ment, or a legend, my uncertainty how to act would be at an end; but to see our Saviour represented on a stage ' ' Stay,' cried Waldeniar, eagerly; 'on that subject you have really nothing to fear. You have most probably seen pictures both good and bad representing him in every im- portant event of his life, and especially of his crucifixion. As you have seen him in the best pictures, so you will see him represented by the wood-carver, Pllunger, in Am- mergau, whose appearance and acting, if one can use the word for such dignified tranquillity, are — perfect. But, even if it were not so, the supposition that everything holy must in the representation equal the ideal formed of it, or be profaned, is an error. How impossible would it be to satisfy the e.Kpectatious of such differently constituted minds as must be found in every mixed crowd of people, or to produce the ideal of such various degrees of cultivation! Fortunately, however, it is not necessary ; the imagination, naturally more excited by dramatic representation than by any other means, easily and unconsciously supplies what may be wanting, and satisfaction is the result. I have heard,' he added, more quietly, ' I have heard a competent judge say, that the performance at Ammergau reminded him strongly and incessantly of the best paintings of the middle ages.' ' Come, Nora, after hearing all this, you can have no more scrujilos I should think! if you have, I must say it was very improper your spending so many hours looking at those old pictures in the Pinakothek, at Munich.' Nora seemed not to hear, but she followed him slowly into the house. ' Soyouhave advised them to go to Ammergau?' observed ATTEMPTED BY THE MXOX FAMILY. 109 Torp, with some displeasure, as soon as he perceived they were out of hearing. * Of course — I could scarcely do otherwise when my ad- vice was asked.' * Hem I but we shall get rid of them there, it is to be hoped ! ' * Hope no such thing, for, by a singular chance, they are going to the same place that we are.' ' You are not serious, I hope,' said Torp. 'I am,' rejoined ^^'aldemar, laughing; 'they are going to Alnienau, and, in fact, have as good a right to go there as we have.' * Then let me tell you, Waldemar, that you and I must part company.' ' Nonsense, Torp ! you are not serious.* ' Perfectly so, 1 assure you, for I can scarcely imagine anything more disagreeable than the intrusion of an English family on our privacy. When I accepted your otfer of a few weeks' sporting in the mountains, rather enjoying the idea of the deprivations and hardships you told me to expect, I never for a moment doubted that we should be free from every kind of restraint, and now the very first thing you do is to collect an English colony about us I just the sort of people, too, most likely to worry us with attentions directly they find out that you are not a tinker, or 1 a journeyman tailor !" * My dear Torp, it is not my fault that these people are going to Ahuenau. The young fellow told me something about a monument that they were going to erect in the churchyard there.' * Pshaw ! you did not understand him rightly. If they have a monument to erect, they must be on their way to Meran, or some such place where our people generally die. Confess you advised them to stop at Almenau on their way, quite forgetting that the inn there is small, and thav they will of course require all the best rooms.' * No,' said Waldemar, quickly, ' and the last annoyance I can spare you by sending an express to the landlady to- morrow, so you may depend upon having the best of every- thing that is to be had in her house.' ' liut conceive what a bore it will be having these 170 FIRST MOUNTAIN EXCURSION women meeting us at every turn ! ' exclaimed Toi'p, with increasing irritation. * None whatever,' replied Waldemar. 'In such places women lay aside some of their formality, and one becomes better acquainted in a week than elsewhere in a year! Their presence makes one overlook a thousand little dis- comforts, and they give an interest to the most trifling events. You must be greatly changed during the last few years, Torp, if you have any dislike to women's society ; and I have a strong idea that if that dark-eyed girl were a German, you would make no sort of objection to her company.' ' Perhaps not,' said Torp ; ' but I can tell you I have a very decided objection to becoming acquainted with that intrusive, talkative, vulgar co.\.conib, with whom you seemed to be on such astonishingly good terms just now.' ' I did not observe any of these qualities,' rejoined Wal- demar, ' and merely supposed him a happy young fellow fresh from one of your Universities. I can make more allowance for high spirits than you, being afflicted with them myself occasionally, and excuse me for observing, that Englishmen are sometimes much more agreeable companions before they have put on the pompous dignity of their riper years. There was a time, Torp, when you would have resigned yourself willingly enough to the society of two such pretty women, and would have sought rather than avoided opportunities of meeting them. I have no doubt I shall be able to persuade that black-eyed houri .to meet us occasionally on an alp after a day's hunting, and shall feel transported into the seventh heaven the first time she prepares me a schmarn, or a cup of coffee ! ' ' The English houris are not so useful or complaisant as the German,' observed Torp, half laughing ; ' you will have to wait long for your coll'ee, I suspect, especially if she and her relations continue to suppose you a poor, wan- dering artist, as they evidently do at present.' ' Let them think so ; I shall get the coflee all the same.* * You may get a cup of tea, per — -baps — but ' ' No — coli'ee — and made by that adorable girl called Nora — and brought to me by her, and she shall sit by me while I drink it!' ATTEMPTED BY THE NIXON TAMlLt. 171 * Will you bet?' asked Torp, amuscil. * Willingly. I shall require a week, perhaps a fortnight, after we have reached Alinenau.' * Agreed. A mouth — two mouths if you like, and a hundred to one.' ' Done.' * Done.' Meantime Mr. Nixon's objections to the mystery, as it was explained to him at some length by Nora, proved, as she had expected, insurmountable. ' He would accom- pany her, of course, to Ammergau, and remain there as long tis she pleased — he should not attempt to offer her advice — hoped that Georgina would remain at the inn with him, though John, having had the advantage of a classical education, must be allowed to judge for himself.' The discussion had taken place at one of the windows of the large sitting-room in the priest's house, where they, at first, expected to be alone, but soon found them- selves, in consequence of the unusually crowded state of the inn, in the midst of a very mixed company collected iu expectation of supper. Nora had much difficulty in con- soling Mr. Nixon for the want of his tea, which had been forgotten ; and even after he had commenced what he called liis second dinner, he continued to wonder at the want of civilisation evident on a Bavarian 'alp,' where tea was an unknown luxury ! His son pretended sympathy, all the while bestowing sundry knowing winks and griuuices on Nora and Waldemar, the latter having contrived to procure u place close to them. Mr. Torp was at the other end o£ the long table, and John observed, with some astonislnnent, that he was engaged in a lively conversation with a German lady and her daughter, and seemed to have altogether laid aside his taciturnity. As they rose from the table, the weather was discussed, and anxious iuquiries &bout it made. * Is the weather of such very great importance ?' askod Nora. ' Undoubtedly,' replied Waldemar, ' for the theatre in Aunnergau is in the open air ; if you will go with me to what is called the Belvedere, on the top of the bouse, we can take a look at the clouds aud sec what our chances are.' 172 FIRST MOUNTAIN EXCURSION * Georgina, will you go ?' asked Nora. * No, thank you, I am tired, and prefer my bed to any Belvedere on earth.' ' Jack,' said Nora, looking round ; but seeing him engaged in listening and trying to understand what was being read aloud from the ' Strangers' Book,' she stood with Waldemar watching the group of people who had gathered round the reader as, lazily leaning over tho large soiled volume, he sometimes read, sometimes made remarks, which were not unfrequently received with peals of laughter. ' Is that " Strangers' Book " so very amusing ? * asked Nora. ' It depends upon the reader,' answered Waldemar. * A dull person would, perhaps, discover but little subject for laughter, but a lively mind finds amusement in the characteristic remarks and odd effusions with which i% abounds, as the bee finds honey in the flower over which the stupid fly hovers in vain.' ' He has looked towards us two or three times,' she observed ; ' perhaps you know him ?' ' By name and reputation, very well,' he answered. ' He is a Dr. X , very clever, very witty, and one of the most popular men of his profession in Vienna.' ' A doctor ! he does not look at all like one.' ' Indeed ! Have doctors in England any particular appearance ? ' •Oh, no, of course not, but— a — one could not — at least I could not imagine that man soberly feeling pulses and writing prescriptions.' ' I dare say not,' rejoined Waldemar, amused, ' nor has he, during his life, done either the one or the other. He is Doctor Juris, not Doctor MedicincB ; and has studied law, not medicine.' At this moment some one touched Nora's arm, and, on looking round, she perceived Georgina, who, drawing her aside, whispered, — ' Nora, dear, forgive me, but as I am older than you, and have been so much more out, you must allow me to tell you that you are acting against all usage du monde, talking in this way to a stranger, a person who has not ATTEMPTED BY THE NIXON FAMILT. 173 been introduced to you — of whose name you are igno- rant ' ' Who could introduce him here?'nsked Nora, laughing. * He told Jack that his name was Waldemar, gave us very good advice about our journey, and * *I knew,* cried Georgina, interrupting her, 'I felt quite sure, that as soon as your brotlier Harry left us, John would bring you into all sorts of embarrassments. It is quite provoking to see him talking to all these people as if they were his best friends ! What must they think of us?' * They are not thinking of us at all,' answered Nora. * It is quite a common thing in these sort of out-of-the- Nvay places for people to speak to each other without waiting for introductions ; for instance, one of those priests inquired, without the slightest hesitation, if we were going to Ammergau, and if we had rooms there.' •And you, of course, told him all our plans?' * Of course ; and he and his companions informed me that they had bespoken their rooms three months ago, and that we had but little chance of finding a place to lay our heads.' ' If that be the case, would it not be better to change our route? I assure you, Nora, nothing is so destructive to the health and appearance as want of rest.' Nora laughed. • I only mentioned this to you,' she said, * in order to prove the advantage of speaking occasionally to strangers when one is travelling as we arc now. These most polite priests have advised us to applv to a M. Zwink. a wood-carver, and the person who is manager and director of the theatre at Ammergau, and should he not be able to arrange everything to our satis- faction, I am to inquire of him for Pater Ignaz. Now you see this Pater Ignaz is one of those who spoke to mo without an introduction, and who, having received a civil auswer from me, may perhaps be very useful to us in the sort of place to which we are going.' * And in what way do you intend to make use of the young artist with the fiery eyes?' demanded Georgina, ironically. ' As ambulating guide-book,' replii-d Nora, demurely. ' I find him even mure amusing than Murray I ' ' I suspect he will not bo satisfied witli that arrangement.' 174 FIRST MOUNTAIN EXCURSION* said Georgina. * He seems to me to expect to be con« eiderod as n — gentleman.' ' Well,' said Nora, ' and that he undoubtedly is.' ' But,' persisted Georgina, ' it is even move than that — • in fact, he appears to imagine himself quite equal, if not superior to us ; his manner to John just now was more that of a person conferring a favour than one on whom a favour was being conferred.' ' But I don't exactly see in what way we are conferring a favour.' ' You don't choose to understand me, Nora, and are annoyed at what I said just now about introductions.' ' Not in the least, I assure you,' she answered, moving aside to allow some people to pass her. A young and pretty girl looked back and smiled, while her mother, politely addressing Georgina in French, asked her if elie would accompany them to the Belvedere, to see what chance there was of fine weather for the next day. With a look of atTected astonishment at being addressed by a stranger, Georgina drew herself up, and coldly declined tlie proffered civility. * I should like to go very much,' said Nora, perceiving that her cousin John was just then too much engaged to be at her service. ' Oh, pray come,' cried the younger stranger, eagerly. • I know you are a foreigner, but my governess was an Englishwoman, and I can explain everything to you in your own langunge.' Nora moved on while Waldemar looked away, and seemed to have no inclination to accompany them, althougli she had observed that, on entering the room, he had appeared well acquainted with both her companions, and had intro- duced his friend Torp to them. ]\Ir. Nixon was sitting near the door in a lamentable Btate of liewilderment. ' Oh, Nora,' he cried, dcspondingly, * these doings don't answer for a man at my time of life ! Whether it 's the second dinner, or the jabbering about me which I don't understand, I can't exactly say, but I never felt so oddish in all my life. My tea, if I had it, would have set me all to rights. I am sure. What that cooreer, that French fellow, Adong, was thinking about when he ATTEMPTED BY THE NIXON* FAMILY. 175 forgot it, I 'm sure I can't tell, for I don't understand a ^Yord the monstaclied rascal says to me I If Jack had pot an English cooreer, as I asked him, this would never have happened, and I don't and won't believe a word about his not being able to find an Englishman ! I only wisli we had given the tea in charge to Tomkins, or even Mrs. Nesbitt — I '11 answer for it — it would not have been for- gotten ! Why, they will be just as much inconvenienced 83 I am, and what we are to have for breakfast tomorrow, / don't know ! ' 'Coffee,' answered Nora, consolingly; 'and pray don't make yourself unhappy about Tomkins, who can take care of himself, or Nesbitt, who will be taken care of by Adam ; ' then bending down, she whispered, ' Don't you think it would be a good plan if you went to bed now ?' • Perliaps it would ; but as there is a doctor in the room, I think I '11 just ask if I ought not to take something.' Nora did not wait to hear his answer; and no sooner was he joined by his daughter than he approached Dr. X , and having bowed in a pleasant, condescending manner, drew a chair to the table, and sat down beside him. Imagining he wished to see the * Strangers' Book,' the doctor politely moved it towards him. Mr. Nkon shook his head mournfully. • Can I in any way be of use to you ? ' asked the doctor, in French, vainly endeavouring to suppress a smile. Again }klr. Nixon shook his head, sighing out the words — ' English, English.' ' ;My falhe'r can only speak English,' explained Georgina. 'Ah I' said the doctor, leaning on his elbow, and pausing for a moment, before he added, ' Well, I can speak English. Do you wish me to interpret for you?* ' Sir : ' cried Mr. Nixon, with that feeling of relief which only those who have heard unknown tongues spoken around them for some weeks can experience on again unexpectedly hearing their own — 'sir, I am delighted to make your acquaintance!' and with a good-humoured laugh he con- tinued, 'When I saw you reading these books full of names to the company, I desired my son to find out who you were ; and he has just now iuformetl me that you are the celebrated Dr. X ! I know, sir, that men of jourpro J 76 rillST ilOlNTAIN EXCUnSIOM fession do not like to be asked for advice when they are travelling for their anuisement: but, as they say, "Necessity has no laws," and " Needs must when the devil drives.'" The doctor turned to an acquaintance at the other side of him, and muttered between his teeth, ' Mad, or not mad? — that is the question.' ' Now the fact is, doctor,' continued Mr. Nixon, * I have always been a remarkably healthy man, and though, when our travelling-carriage was being built, I cojisented to the portable medicine chest, it was with the firm belief that none of the patent medicines would ever find their way down my throat. Now, my daughter, Miss Nixon, is quite ditferent — she likes medicine, and takes her pill every night regular.' "Is it possible?* asked the doctor, slowly, and looking with unfeigned astonishment at Georgina, whose face became crimson : 'is it possible you like eating pills ?' ' Papa is only jesting,' she answered, in a voice tremu- lous from vexation. * Not a bit of it, Georgy. I assure you, doctor, no apothecary could manage the little scales, or weigh and measure with greater nicety than my daughter; she can make up pills, and ' ' Good night, papa,' said Georgina, in that distinct, quick manner, which is so very demonstrative of female dis- pleasure. ' Stay, Georgy, stay ; I have only a few words to say to the doctor, and then we can go together.' She sat down at a little distance, slightly contracting her brows, and biting her under lip, while her father continued, in a low, confidential tone — ' You must know, doctor, that late hours never did, and never will, agree with me. I like living at the West End, and being in good society, amazingly ; but only those who have been brought up tc it, like my son and daughter, can find riding in the Park, and dining at eight o'clock, and going to evening swarries, quite easy and natural. I moved too late in life, and can't get used to it, especially the late hours ; so that I often wish myself back again in — in — the street we used to live in, as my daughter says. We knew many pleasant, sociable people there, who dined at rational hours, and better and more ATTEMPTED BY THE NMXON l-AMIut. 1*77 plentifully than at more fashionable p'.nccs. Mij father oseil to (line at five o'clock ; by degrees, to please Mrs. Ni.Kon, tie got on to si.x o'clock ; my daughter has brought us on to seven or eight ; and I suppose rny grandchildren will dine at nine or ten, as I have done today '. But it lias disagreed with me, doctor — disagreed in the most un- comfortable manner. Perhaps the walk up the alp may have increased my appetite — I vioi/ have eaten more than usual: the fisli and the omelettes were good, the beer e.v- cellent, but the wine was sourish; all Rhine ■.vino w sourish. Give me the curious old sherry, ever so many years in bottle, or even Cape, good and clever, such as we used to drink when alone in — in the street we used to live in. Now, doctor, you see, the late — the second dinner and the wine having disagreed with me, I should be very much obliged to you if you would tell me what I ouglit to take \)efore I go to bed.' * Punch,' said the doctor, who had listened to liiin with undeviating attention. 'What?' cried Mr. Nixon, opening his eyes as wide as the lids would permit. ' Punch,' repeated the doctor, nodding his head. * Hush I ' cried Mr. Ni.Kon, with a wink and a gesture of his thumb towards his daughter, to whom he then turned, and affectionately observed, ' I say, Georgy, dear, 1 'm keeping you up a great deal too long ; you had better not wait for me any longer ; ' adding, in a whisper, ' Uncom- mon clever man, this doctor; he thinks 1 ought to take something before I go to bed, and is just going to prescribe for me.' Glad to be released, Gcorgina immediately left the room; and Mr. Nixon, drawing still closer to the table and the doctor, observed. ' My daughter does not like punch.' To this observation no answer was made. The doctor did not seem to think it of any importance whctlier or not Miss Nixon liked punch; and Mr. Nixon continui^d, as it were in explanation, ' She may, for all I know, in point of fact, like the taste of punch, and it may be only the vul- garity of the thing that she so specially abhors ' ' Vulgarity I ' repeated the doctor ; ' I never heard th^'. punch was vulgar.' M 178 niiST MOUNTAIN EXCUUSION 'Why, sir,' cried Mr. Nixon, ' my daughter says it is so shocUing vulgnr, that since we left tlic — street wo used to live in, and came to Eaton-phice, I have never been allowed to see anything of the kind at my table. I can conscien- tiously say that I have not tasted punch for nine, or per- haps ten, years ; but if you recommend it, I shall have no sort of objection to try a tumbler — medicinally, you know, medicinally. I say, just order the materials, will you?' * I know nothing about the materials,' said the doctor ; • but I can order the punch if you wish it.' He made a sign, while speaking, to a girl who was in waiting: and before Mr. Kixon could express half the satisfaction he felt on hearing that punch was not considered vulgar in Germany, the waitress returned, carrying a covered glass in one hand, and a plate, on which was a large slice of cake, in the other. •Hey? ha! what's that? Must I eat that. with it?* asked Mr. Nixon, hastily. ' Not if you do not choose,' answered the doctor, with a smile, quite unconscious that he was being consulted as a physician, and thinking his companion singularly simple for a person who looked so intelligent. Mr. Ni.xon accordingly made a negative motion with his hand towards the cake, uttering some of the ' grunting gutturals,' which he seemed to consider so like German that they might pass for the language, and then took the glass, remarking that 'It was very small, and did not de- serve the name of tumbler.' Just as he had pronounced the punch excellent, and deposited his glass on the table, he caught his son's eye fixed on him from the other end of the room. He pushed the punch towards the doctor, who, however, slightly bow- ing, refused what he supposed was an English token of conviviality, while he observed, ' I prefer beer or wine — it is a matter of taste, you know, or habit.' • Hem ! ' coughed Mr. Nixon, again pushing the glass towards him, ' but you see my son is looking this way just now, and ' ' And he thinks punch vulgar, too, perhaps,' said the doctor, amused. ' Why, as to that, he must, indeed, we must all, in such ATTEMPTED BY THE NIXON FAMILY. 170 things, do as my daupjliter chooses, for she knows tlie world and how people live in it. and has for many years had the complete management of my establishment.' * Hallo, governor, what have you got there? ' cried John, leaning across the table. ' Why, Jack, the doctor here recommended me, after my late dinner, to try a glass of punch.' ' Where "s Georgy ?' ' Gone to bed.' John drew the glass towards him, and seemed to like the contents so weW that his father laughed, and desired him to use his German in order to procure a fresh supply. Several of the guests followed his example, and almost all began to smoke. Now tobacco was an abomination to Gilbert Nixon. ***** In the mean time, Nora and her companions, accom- panied by a chamber-maid with a candle, ascended the long steep flight of stairs which led to the roof of the house. There, however, even before they reached the door that opened on the small inclosed space called the Belvedere, the wind, which was blowing strongly, extinguished their light. Yet still they groped on, stepped out on the roof, and even while making some jesting remarks on the inap- propriateness of the name, just then their eyes became accustomed to the darkness, and they began to perceive the widely-extending horizon, marked out by vivid flashes of liglitning that, ploying noiselessly along the dark sky, rendered at intervals the outline of the mountains visible, and showed the distant thunder storm that was raging among them. ' It looks better than I expected.' observed the elder lady. ' The thunder-clouds are driving towards Tyrol, and the moon will soon be visible to «s at least! After all, it may be fine to-morrow.' * It will be fine to-morrow and for some weeks afterwards,' Baid Nora, gaily ; ' I have be-;poK'en fine weather, as we are going to a pretty mountain village whore M. Waldemar has promised to show us some beautiful views from the alps in the neighbourhood.' * Oh, Count Waldemar is of your party, then ? I under- 180 FIIIST MOUNTAIN EXCLUSION stood lie was on a luiiUin,f,'cxcursion with Uiat Englishman — that friend of his whose acjuaintance he made at Vienna 60 many years ago.' * He is not of our party,' said Nora, quicldy ; ' we met him here accidentally to-day; he told us his name was Waldemar, gave us advice about our route, and ' ' And invited you to visit him at his castle in the Valley of the Inn,' said the elder lady, laughing ; ' it would be just like him.' ' No,' answered Nora ; ' the fact is, we saw him sketching when we arrived here, and, without further consideration, concluded he must be an artist, and his friend, Mr. Torp ' ' Torp,' repeated the lady ; ' that was not the name he said, was it, Sophie ? ' 'No, mamma, he said Lord Medvey, but he afterwards called him Torp, once or twice ; and tlie name sounded so oddly that I asked him about it, and he told me that the family name of the Medveys was ' 'Thorp,' said Nora. •Exactly ; but as Count Waldemar never could learn to pronounce the " th " — he called him Torp. He said he had become acquainted with him when his name was Torp, and could not now learn to call him anything else without a great deal of trouble.' The lady and her daughter talked on, and Nora heard the murmuring of voices ; but the words conveyed no sense to her mind, so completely had she been surprised by what she had heard. Could it be true that chance had brought her into the immediate neighbourhood of the only person in the world she wished to avoid '.* Was it indeed certain that he was going to Almenau, where they must necessarily often meet ? Would he claim acquaintance when he heard her name? What would be his manner towards her uncle, Georgina, and John ? Could she, in fact, receive him with even a semblance of cordiality after her last conversation with her brother ? She had not time to answer any of these questions before her companions proposed going down stairs again. At the door of her room she stopped, and, as they wished her good night, hoped she would not be too much fatigued to get up the next morning to see the sun rise. ATTEMPTED BY THE KIXON FAMILY. 131 ' Ob, Xesbitt, I am so sony I forgot to tell you to go to Led,' said Nora, when she saw Georgina'a maid waiting in her room, and vainly endeavouring to suppress lier yawns; 'just put my things in order for tomorrow morning, and then you can sleep until Miss Nixon wauts you.' * Yes, ma'am, thank you. Miss Nixon does not wish to be wakened for the sunrise, ma'am.' ' Nor you either,' said Nora, laughing. * Wliy, ma'am. Monsieur Adong says that a sunset is much finer.' ' Of course what Adam says must be right.' •Yes, ma'am — only in one tiling he is wrong, very wrong — he always calls master. Lord Nixon, ma'am, since Sir 'Arry left us — he says it makes people think more of us.' * But, Nesbitt, you ought to explain to him ' * So I have, ma'am, but he says he has been so accus- tomed to travel with noblemen that he cannot do other- wise. It 's all very well with the hignorant Germans, who don't know the difference ; but when English people hear him. I am so ashamed I don't know where to look.' ' There is an Englishman here now — a Mr. Torp ' — began Nora, quickly. ' Yes, ma'am, and as ill-luck would have it, he and a young gentleman wiih a face and beard just such as one sees in the pictures of the galleries, ma'am, passed the kitchen when I was getting candles for this room. The young gentleman turned back suddenly, and asked Mr. Adong the name of the fambly he was cooreer to. " My Lor Ni.\one," says he, " from London," says he, and im- mediately the other gentleman, who had walked on very high and mighty, stopped and laughed a little, and said something of the creation, which 1 did not quite hear, and of a pleasant addition to the peerage, and then he too turned back and said London was a large place, and might contain a great many Nixons ; that he knew sometbing about one of that name, and wished to be informed where Mr. Adong's present employer lived in London. And no sooner, ma'am, did he hear of Eaton-place than he became more inquisitive a great deal than the other gentleman, and asked if you were all of one fambly. and especially if you and Miss Nixon were sbtcrs ; and Mr. Adong, knowing no 182 Fir.ST MOUNTAIN EXCUr.SION better, said, "yes," ma'am, that you were " all one fambly, tray distingucy ;" and then tliey walked asvay, laughing, uud I had tlie greatest mind to run after them and explain that you, ma'am * ' 1 am very glad you did not,' said Nora, quickly, * and you will oblige me very much by never entering into any explanation whatever. 1 am quite satisfied to pass for a daughter of my uncle's; in fact, I prefer it just at present.' Mrs. Nesbitt seemed for a moment surprised, remained a short time silent, and then observed, ' I suppose, ma'am, you think it better for us while in this wild part of the country to remain incog.' ' Exactly,' said Nora, laughing ; ' it is quite unnecessary that these strangers should be informed of ray relationship to my uncle ; nor can it in any way interest Monsieur Adam either, so for the present let us leave him in igno- rance also. In short, Nesbitt,' she added, with unusual •emphasis and seriousness, ' the less you speak of me and my aflfairs for the next six weeks, the better pleased I shall be.' These words made the impression intended, for Mrs. Nesbitt greatly desired to enter Nora's service ; and she actually w-as scrupulously silent during the time required. The Peissenberg is not a place for tranquil slumbers on a moonlight night, and but a few hours had elapsed before bright moonbeams in her chamber, and on her bed, wakened Nora so completely, that she looked at her watch, rose, slowly dressed herself, and having from her window seen ■ several dark figures already moving about before the house, :She descended quietly, and passed through a small gate that .opened to the east. The daylight, which began to pervade ■the horizon, was so faint, and the wind so high, that she returned to the front of the buildings, and had scarcely reached the parapet wall when John sprang towards her. ' Good morning, Nora; I knew you would be one of the first up. Did you hear the row in the house about mid- night ;' ' ' No, I slept too soundly.' ' The governor was ill — got up a regular scene — thought he was dying !' ATTEMPIED BV TUE NIXON FAMILY. 1S3 ' Oh, Jack, if these sort of excursions disagree with him, let us give theiu up at once.' ' Nonsense, dear girl, it wasn't the walk up here, nor the late dinner either, tboiigh he still tries to think so — it was — but don't peach — don't tell Georgy — it was the nira- punch he drank ; and even that would not have upset him, perhaps, if he had not sat sipping it in a room full of tobacco-smoke. It was too much for me at last ; for, though I like ray own cigar, I don't choose, as that quiet fellow Torp said, to inhale the ' * Never mind what he said,' cried Nora ; * but tell me about my uncle.' * Well, either the punch or the smoke, or perhaps both together, disagreed with him — he really uas ill for half an hour or so, and then he sent for the doctor.' ' How fortunate there happened to be one in the house I ' exclaimed Nora. ' So we thought, and sent for him at once ; but he refused so obstinately to get up, that I went to him myself and explained, as well as I could do so in German, my father's situation, and the duties of a man of his profession. 1 did not know, at first, that he understood English, and supposed my German, spoken in a hurry, was not so intelligible as usual ; he listened to me, however, civilly enough, said something about being very sorry, drew up the monstrous down bed with which people half smother themselves in this country, and composed himself to sleep in my very presence ! ' ' How very unfeeling ! ' cried Nora, indignantly. 'Wait until you hear the end,' continued John, laughing. ' My father, alarmed as you know he always is when anything is the matter with him, got out of his bed, and in order not to catch cold, took the bright red wadded quilt from his bed and threw it over his dressing-gown. Now don't try to look grave, Nora; his appearance teas comical, and when, accompanied by Tomkins, we com- menced a regular pilgrimage to the doctor, I could not keep my countenance. Some people in our vicinity had been wakened, doors were ajar, and I heard whispering and tittering in all directions. The tassel of my fathers monstrous white night-cap ' 104 ijr.sr muu.main exclusion 'I really coulil laugli,' said Nora, 'if it were not foi anxiety about iny uncle.' ' Oh, laugh as much as you like,* cried John ; • I laughed too, and annised myself making bows to all the half-opened doors as I passed. Now that I know the true state of the case, I cf.nuot conceive why the doctor did not get up and lock his door when I left him. I should have done so in his place; however, it proves satisfactorily that the Germans arc a phlegmatic nation. The door was still unlocked, and in the few minutes J had been absent he had actually contrived to fall asleep again ! ' 'And you were obliged to waken him?' interposed Nora. ' Of cour.-,e. And after staring at us all for a few Rcconds. ratiier savagely, he began to utter the most extraordinary words 1 ever heard. I did not understand them ; but I can imagine their import, and it struck me at the time that the German language was very powerful for the expression of rage. The governor sat down by him, and mildly began a detailed account of his sufferings ; but the doctor interrupted him by an impatient and fruitless endeavour to make him understand that, though a doctor, he was no doctoz*.' 'Ah,' said Nora, 'that was the man who was reading the "Strangers' Book" this evening; I made the same mistake myself.' ' Yes, and if he had only used the word physician, peihaps the governor would have understood him — but I am not sure — these things are out of his line, you know ; so they kept shouting at each other, doctor or no doctor until at length finding English, German, and French insufficient, he explained, with a couple of Latin words, that he was a lawyer and not a physician. I understood him, of course, and with some difficulty made my father comprehend the state of the case ; but no sooner did a light break upon him, than he thought it necessary, as an apology for having got up such a row, to commence a history of his neglected education, and how his father had considered a classical education unnecessary, and how often' he had intended to learn Greek and Latin, but had never had time for it ! The old story, you know ; if Georgy had ATTEMPrED TiY THE NIXON FAMILY. 183 been there he would not have been so coraraunicative, I suspect * Here ihey both became conscious that Torp was wiihin hearing distance of them, and John added quickly, ' In short, all was at last satisfactorily exjdained, and we left the doctor in peace — Imt even then he did not bolt his door — curious people tliese Germans ! ' At that moment Waldemar advanced towards them, and while he leaned against the wall, and was still eagerly speaking to Nora, the wind caught his light straw hat, balanced it a moment high above his head, and then blew it down the steep green hill. John laughed loudly. Waldemar smiled good-humouredly, looked after it for a moment, and perceiving that it was already out of sight, continued speaking as if nothing had occurred to interrupt him. ' I scarcely, in fact, know which I prefer,' he said, looking round him, ' a sunrise from a quite dark night, or this protracted struggle between moonlight and breaking day. But we must ^o to the other side of the cluirch, ;Mees Nixe, if we intend to see the sun rise in all its glory.' * I wonder,' cried John, leaning over the wall — 'I wonder how hv down the hill your hat is at this moment I ' ' If you feel the slightest cariosity on the subject,' said \Yaldemar, ' I advise you to gratify it.' John jumped over the wall, and directly he was out of sight, Torp joined Nora and Waldemar. Several groups of people from the neighbouring inn were assembled, all eyes turned to the east. Nora's acquaintances of the pre- vious evening moved towards her, and Waldemar seemed for a moment inclined to retire ; but when he perceived that both ladies turned to Torp and began to speak English, he remained standing with his arms folded, his eyes sweep- ing eagerly over the plain before him, while he began again to speak to Nora, as if in continuation of what he had before said. * Moonlight is more adapted for confined landscapes than for a view like this : there it can produce strong shadow, and make insignificant objects appear grand ; here it serves but to create confusion ; the eve labours in vain to find a distinct outline or place of repose — just light enough to make us painfully aware of the imperfection of the noblest 186 FIP.ST MOUNTAIN EXCURSION. sense that we possess ! — I believe I give the prcfereiica to that cjrailual transition from nigljt to niurniiig uhich I witnessed the last time 1 was on this spot at this hour. Impenetrable darkness changed by 'degrees into grev twilight — the first glimmer of light caught bv the mounlaiu tops, and showing their outline in darli masses, — then the boundaries of forest and long daik-coloured lakes became visible — last of all the towns, villages, churches. Do not look again at that pale fading moon,' he added, turning once more with Nora towards the east, and fi.xing his eyes on the spot where, bright and glowing, the sun's disc began to appear above the horizon. With the others they gazed undazzled on the magnificent fiery orb as long as his rays 'shot parallel to the earth,' and were tempered by its misty atmosphere. Soon, however, the deep red colour changed to the pale hue of intense heat and light — the admiring e3-es were averted, and tongues were loosed and — talked of breakfast. Nora took advantage of the general movement leisurely to e.varaine Mr. Torp. The moment was favourable for him : he was listening to the broken Euglish of her ac- quaintances of the previous evening ; and though none of that suavity of manner which men frequently feel or feign when speaking to women with whom they are but slightly acquainted was perceptible in his person or features, there was an imaflected cordial smile on his lips, and a mirthful glance in his eyes, that made her unwillingly acknowledge to herself that he was handsomer than she had expected to find him. The scrutiny, however, was short, for with that in- explicable feeling of consciousness from which even the most near-sighted are seldom quite free when closely watched, Torp soon became aware that eyes were fixed on him, and turned to meet them. Indifferent and haughty was the glance he bestowed on Nora, but the look that met his, though a mere Hashing of the eye, instantly arrested his attention — there was recognition in it, and few are ignorant of the change which that produces in the human eye. Did It remind him of somebody he had seen before ? When ? where ? Pshaw ! Often as he had heard of the Nixon family, he certainly never had seen one of them. Tho eyes were handsome, very— very handsome, and he rather PEASANT AUT1ST3. 187 wished she would look at him again — it wouUl greatly assist his meiuorv. For tliis purpose he followed her into the house and to the sitting-room ; but in vain. Nora would not look at him any mure, and seemed altogether occupied with John, who. after a fruitless chase of Waldemav's straw hat, had ordered his breakfast, and now assured her he had had an excellent view of the suinise from the window opposite him. They then lowered their voices, spoke for a few minutes, and finally left the room together, John to induce his father to get up, Nora to bribe Georgina to exertion, by a proposal to stop at Sultzbad, at the foot of the hill, until they had all had warm baths. By the time they were ready to commence their descent, not a trace of the numerous travellers of the previous even- ing was to be seen. CHAPTER XVII. PEASANT ARTISTS. The road from the Peissenberg to Ober-Ammergau, though not uninteresting, presents little worthy of notice until, after having passed Mornau, the mountains appear gradually to close around it; soon after the summit of the Watterstein rises majestically in the background, and the steep ascent of the Ettal mountain commences. It was here that the carriages, carts, omnibuses, and crowds of pedestrians as- sumed the appearance of a procession to a pilgrimage, and here that the justness of some of Nora's remarks on her uncle's heavy and unwieldy travelling-carriage first became manifest ; for had not the neighbouring peasants been pre- pared to supply additional horses, they would have been obliged to have either procured a lighter vehicle or have pursued their way on foot. The church and former monas- tery of Ettal, an immense pile of building, became visible at the top of the mountain, and there they once more found themselves in a valley, above the green hills on each side of which rocky peaks again presented themselves. A short drive then brought them to the village of Ober- Ammergau, where whh nnich noise and pretension the Nixous' carriage drew up before the door of the inn, and 188 PEASANT ARTISTS. the courier sprang to the ground. Nora, quite prepareci for the intelligence that they could uot get rooms there, had descended, and was beginning to make inquiries about Herr Zwink and Pater Ignaz, when their acquaintance of the previous evening, Waldemar, advanced towards her, and with the assurance that the inhabitants of the village were quite willing to inconvenience themselves in any way to afford travellers shelter for the niglit, added that, if they did not mind being separated, be doubted not being able to provide for them some way or other. Nora and John accompanied him in his search, and before long Mr. Kixou and his son were put in possession of a small room, Georginawas given one still more diminutive, and immedi- ately under the roof, but in the same house ; while Xora, ac- companied by the half-wondering, half-discontented Mrs. Xesbitt, proceeded to a neighbouring peasant's cottage, where Waldemar observed, carelessly, he and his friend Torp had been so fortunate as to get lodgings for the night. As is usual in the Bavarian highlands, the houses com- posing the village were detached, each in its orchard, and generally furnished with a little garden in front. Most picturesque and sanctified they looked, with their low overhanging roofs, ornamented gables, and walls covered with frescos, the subjects of which were all from Holy Writ, while the Ettal jNIauonna, conspicuously placed, seemed framed as it were in flourishes and ornaments of the most elaborate description. The interiors of these houses are as similar as their exteriors ; there is the long narrow passage leading through the house to the offices, the steep staircase and kitchen in the distance, the doors right and left on enter- ing, one of which invariably conducts into the sitting-room of the family, with its large green stove surrounded by wooden benches that, as fi.vtures, are continued along the walls of the room, the windows almost covered by luxu- riant exotics, and the massive table of well-scoured maple- wood in the corner, where the cross light of a front and side window falls upon it. The inhabitants of Ammergau are scarcely peasants in the common acceptation of the word ; the ground and country about them is not favourable for the growth of PEASANT ARTISTS. 1S9 com, thoy occupy themselves but little witli field lubour, and neglect the usual resource of other Alpine district? — the breeding of cattle. As manufacturers of toys and carvers of wood they at first a]ipear to hiive improved their condition, and attained a higher position in the world; but though, in an intellectual point of view, this may be the case, in material well-being they are far behind the other peasants of the mountainous parts of Bavaria. The chief profits fall into the hands of foreign agents and the possessors of warehouses ; yet so artistically inclined are these people, and so experienced are they in the carving of wood, that they prefer it to all other occupation. The veiy children from earliest infancy make rude attempts, and assist in colouring and varnishing the ordinary toys that serve as playthings to little beings of their own age, whose chief pleasure and occupation seem to be the speedy destruction of them. At the door of one of these houses Waldemar stopped, apparently surprised at finding the benches outside occu- pied by a row of people who rose as he approached. They proved to be acquaintances, for he extended his hand to an athletic old man in a hunter's dress, made some in- quiries about his family, and nodding familiarly to the others before entering tlie house, he passed Nora in order to open the door of the sitting-room of the proprietor. She heard a hasty discussion about rooms — regret that he had not explained his wishes before the arrival of the Forst- ward from Almenau, and a proposal to lodge the daughter of the latter elsewhere. ' No, no, no,' cried Waldemar, returning to the passage, and requesting Nora to follow him up tlie stairs. • Miss Nixe,' he said, throwing open the door of a small low room, ' this apartment is quite at your service, and I believe 1 must advise you to take possession of it without delay, as it has already ha[ipened more than once this summer that travellers have been obliged to pass the night in their carriages.' • But,' said Nora, glancing towards a portmanteau and some already unpacked toilet requisites, * but this is your room, and 1 cannot think of depriving you of it until you have secured another.' J 90 PEASAKT AIITISTS. • Torp must share his with nie,' answered Waldemar, opening the door of the adjoining apartment, and beginning to shove his portmanteau into it with his foot. Nora motioned to Nesbitt to assist, and perhaps might herself have aided, had not the voice of Torp announced his presence. 'Hollo! what are you at now. Waldemar?* he said good-humouredly. ' Have you repented giving me the best room, and come to dislodcre me ? ' ' Not exactly,' answered Waldemar. ' I only want you to share it with me, as I have resigned mine to' — here he lowered his voice and spoke rapidly in German, ' to your fair countrywoman, the naiad, the nymph, the black-eyed Nixie !' ' Better than the old alderman or his son,' said Torp, dryly; 'but vou must refrain from smoking, Waldemar, if you do not mean to cancel the whole obligation, for English nymphs eschew the smell of tobacco, and I am much mis- taken if that door will eifectnally prevent the entrance of the fumes of your cigars, or the most subdued tones of our melodious voices. Singing is out of the question to-night, Waldemar, neither hunting-song nor ' ' Hush. Torp ! she 's there, and may hear what you say,* cried AValdemar. She had in fiict more than heard ; she had caught a glimpse of his figure, stretched at full length on a row of chairs, so placed as to represent a sofa, while with arms folded, and head thrown back, his eyes followed his friend's energetic movements with an expression of lazy amusement. The arrangements were soon completed ; and then Wal- demar stepped up close to Torp, laid his hand on his shoulder, and whispered, 'You're a better fellow than I thought you, Charley. I half expected you to be dissatisfied, as, on our way here to-day, you seemed so strangely averse to any interchange of civilities with your countrymen, or the slightest acquaintance with the fiimily of Nix.' ' I shall make no attempt to interfere with your civilities in future,' said Torp, quietly ; * the more so, as I flatter myself that I can keep these people at a distance, and avoid an acquaintance which I confess icould be disagreeable, and might be embarrassing to me.' PEASANT AHTISTS. 191 « Con-found your arrogance!' exclaimed Waldemar, im. patiently turning away. In the mean time. Xesbitt had been looldng round the Bmall apartment rather disconsolately. She could find nothing to interest her in the coloured prints that decorated the whitewashed walls — the painted bedstead, with bright yellow arabesques on the head aiid foot-board, and the letters i.H.S. above the pillows — or the large wardrobe before which Nora stood, apparently lost in contemplation of the Madonna and Saviour that were painted on the upper panels, and the gaudy flower-vases that decorated the lower. * I shall send your courier to you for orders,' said Waldemar, re-entering the room, 'and I hope you may be able to make yourself tolerably comfortable for one night.' ' I really do'not know how to thank you for resigning your room in this generous manner,' began Nora. ' Pray do not attempt it, or even think of it,' said Waldemar, smiling, as he took up his hat and the little drawing-book that lay on the window-sill. ' I suppose, ma'am,' said Nesbitt, after he had left them, ' I suppose he has gone about a room for me now, ma'am?' ' Suppose no such thing,' said Nora ; ' but consider yourself fortunate in getting from me this great feather-bed and a pillow on the floor 1 ' * Lor, ma'am, you don't mean that you will sleep on the paillasse ?' ' Many will have to sleep on straw or hay to-night. !Mrs. Nesbitt,' answered Nora : ' do you think the thousands of people now in this village are likely to find beds?' * Praps not, ma'am, but peasants ' ' Peasants,' said Nora, * are here accustomed to rooms and beds such as we now see. Every one must be satisfied with what he can get to-night, Nesbitt ; and you had better now return to Miss Nixon, and make yourself useful, while I find out the people of the house and get acquainted with them.' She found the peasant's wife in the kitchen, preparing supper for her numerous expected and unexpected guests, and was received by her with the warmest expressions of hospitality, and many regrets that her room was not what such a young lady was accustomed to. 199 PEASANT ARTIST3. Nora assured her she considered herself very fortunate in being so well provided for; she had not expected it wlien she had seen the crowds on the road. The peasant laughed, and observed lliat all the garrets, lofts, and even barns would be filled with people throughout the whole neighbourhood; and how many vould arrive in the morning it ■would be hard to say ! She only hoped there would be places enough in the theatre, for, large as it was, it had already happened that some thousands had to be refused admittance, and the play performed over again for them the day after. She said all this with such evident pride and satisfaction, that Nora continued the conversation, and soon discovered that there was no inconvenience to which the villagers would not submit cheerfully in order to accommodate strangers who came to see their ' play,' considering them guests whose presence would serve to increase the brilliancy and reputation of the great performance. Here it may be observed, that no advantage whatever is taken on such occasions by the inhabitants of Ammergau to obtain profit of any kind: they barely allow themselves to be remunerated for actual outlay in tiie purchase of pro- visions, giving their houses and time willingly to all who require their assistance. While Nora still lingered in the kitchen, two young girls entered it, followed by the children of the house, joyously shouting, ' The miller's Madeleine, and the forester's Rosel, from Almenaul' This meant that they were the daughters of the miller and forester of that place, and therefore the greeting of the peasant's wife was listened to attentively by Nora. It was hearty in the extreme — she shook their hands, laughed, patted their shoulders, and then turned the miller's remarkably pretty daughter round and round, declaring she did so to ascertain if she had grown taller since the morning. The girl blushed and said, if she were not taller, she was certainly happier. 'And when is the wedding?' 'About Michaelmas. I wish Rosel's father would let her marry the Crags peasant's Seppel at the same time.* PEASANT ARTISTS. 193 Rosel did not lihish at all as she seconded this wish, adding that ' there was little chance, as her lather could not forget or forgive Seppel's having joined the other peasant lads in the year forty-eight, and taken advantage of the short time he was at home on leave to shoot the best herd of chamois in the whole district: he said then,' she continued, 'and says now, that he will never give any- one belonging to him to a — a — wild hunter ! ' ' Ah, bah I' cried the peasant's wife; 'there was scarcely a lad in the village of Ahneuau, or anywhere else in the Highlands, that did not do the same in forty-eight, and no one thought the worse of them for doing what was allowed by law.' 'That's true,' said Rosel, 'and I have often told him 80 : for, saving Seppel's brother Anderl, and the miller's man, black Seppel, they were all out more or less.' • No doubt of it, llosel — and here, too, and everywhere in the land. But now that Crags Seppel has served his six years as cuirassier, and got a discharge that any man might be proud of, your father should overlook his having used his rille too freely iu former times, and let bygones be bygones.' ' If it had not been for that unlucky chamois last year, perhaps he might,' rejoined liosel ; ' 1 mean the one that came over the mountain from Tyrol, and that father had watched and preserved for Count Waldemar. Game was bO scarce just then, and mostly up high among the rocks. As ill-luck would have it, Seppel ' 'No, but he didn't though!' exclaimed the woman, evidently aniazed at this iu>tance of temerity. * I was going to tell you,' continued Kusel, 'that Seppel just then had to see after the cattle on his father's Alp, and unluckily took it into his head to go on to the fisher- man's at the Kerbstein lake, passing over the very ground that my father cannot hear named without avowing vengeance on all wild hunters. Well, and so he and tho count hunted afterwards for two days and a night together without getting a shot, and went over the mountaina into Tyrol, hut never saw or heard more of the chamois.' The peasant's wife seemed to consider this conclusive, »nd went on with her cooking. 191 PEASANT ARTISTS. • It appoars to me,' said Nora, * tliat they condemned this Seppel on very slight evidence. Might not another have been the ofibnder? Was no one else absent from the village at the same time?' ' No one but Seppel would have dared to do it,* observed the peasant's wife, without looking up. 'Though he may be suspected, he ought not to be con- demned without stronger proof,' continued Nora. • So I always say,' observed Rosel in reply ; * but my father declares that that buck was so old and wary, that, no one in the village but Seppel could have followed and hunted him down. And you see,' she continued — and Nora fancied she detected a sort of suppressed exultation in the voice of the bright-eyed girl — ' you see Seppel never hunts anything but chamois, and when he finds them liigh up on the rocks, he thinks it no crime to take a shot, and —and — he never misses, never ! ' ' That 's true,' chimed iu the miller's daughter. ' Every one says Seppel ought to be made an.under- keeper or wood-ranger, or something of that sort, and then the forester would like him as much as he now dislikes him.' • His being an under-keeper would not be much gain for Piosel,' said the peasant's wife ; ' he might as well be a cuirassier for all the chance of marriage he would have. I would rather hear that his old father was going to resign liouse and land at the Crags to him, and that ' Here a loud tapping at the window was heard, which made them all start and look round. ' Bless me ! ' exclaimed the peasant's wife, * if there isn't Seppel himself, on his w\ay from Munich, and in his hand- some uniform, to astonish us all ! We greet you a thou- sand times,' she added, springing to the window and throwing it open, while hands were extended, and then eagerly protruded through the iron bars ; one of these he retained, giving it an occasional jerk, while he explained that a letter having informed him he should meet friends if he went to Ammergau, he had not required long to make up his mind to see them and the great play at the same time. All he now wanted was to tind somebody who would give him shelter for the night. 'Shelter and a bundle of hay you can have, Sepp,' PEASANT ARTISTS. 195 langlieJ the peasant'?; w ife ; * I had nothing better to give my own sistei- s son Floiian, wlien he was here last week.' • I suspect I can sleep better on liay than Floiian,' said Seppel. ♦ He came to see the great play of coui-se".' ' ' Yes, and brought his mother with him. It was long since we sisters had been to.:;ether; but we knew we should see little more of each other when she married into Almenau, and we should hear nothing either if Florian had not taken after our family, and been, as I may say, born an artist. He alone keeps up the relationship now. bv coming here so often for one thing or another. Last week he ordered some ornaments to be carved for St. Hubert's chapel in the wood. He's been given the reno- vation of the altars there, and he says it will be a trouble- some job, as the new parts must be made exactly to match the rest, which is very curious, and ever so many hundred years old. If you should go to Almenau, miss,' she added, turning to Nora, 'you ought to make a pilgrimage to St. Hubert's.' ' I shall certainly do so.* answered Xora ; ' and if you have any message to your nephew Florian, I can be the bearer of it, as I intend to remain some time at Almenau.' * He lives at the end of the village with his mother, who has the shop there,' said the peasant's wife, evidently pleased at Nora's willingness to visit her relations. * Any one can show you Meister Florian 's studio, for he is quite an artist, and has been at the academy in ^lunich.' During the last few minutes some hurried whisperings had been going on at the window, which Nora did not con- sider it necessary to interrupt, or even appear to observe, so she walked out of the kitchen, and turned into the dwelling-room, where she found the peasant himself, finishing a most elaborate piece of carving — a goblet with figures in high relief and Gothic ornaments. He stopped working for a moment, to raise a small Greek cap that covered his bald head, pointed to a seat, and perceiving that she did not intend to interrupt him. continued his occupation, first nodding to a man who was sitting opposite to hira, and then murnnning something about wishing to hear the end of the affair. The person addressed was the elderly man to wboii> I'.) 9 PEASANT ARTISTS. VValiiemar had spoken l)ef()re enteriiifr the house. His dress and manner, joined to his bearded sunburnt face, made Nora suppose him a forester or wood-ranger, and slie was soon not only confirmed in this idea, but also con- vinced that he was to be the future father-in-law of the miller's daugliter Madeleine. ' 'J'he end is soon told,' he continued, playing with some carving tools that lay temptingly near his hands. •You may easily suppose that I expected a right good match for my son Franz, after having sent him to the foresters' academy, and secured him a chance of being before long set far above myself, for I have not the learning required for a forst-meister now-a-days. Well, back comes Franz to me as assistant-forester, by way of a beginning, and jjets one of our best rooms, and writes. lumcau, well aired on sunny balcony, rose like mountains on each side of her: they seemed to glow, and though want of rest on the previous night made her painfully slcciiy, the heat at length became so intolerable that she sprang from her bed, and threw wide open the little lattice window, actually gasping for breath as she leaned out of it. The sound of voices in the orchard beneath made her shrink back again, but tlie moon had not yet risen, and the night was still sodark that she need not have boundup so carefully her long hair, dishevelled by the recent tossings ou downy pillows, or drawn her dressing-gown so very closely round her, as she once more approached the source of fresh air. A slight odour of tobacco was wafted towards her with the words, ' Well, I don't deny that she is pretty and interesting, and that her figure is slight and graceful, but you must allow me to doubt her being so very youthful as you seem to suppose.' • 1 don't care what her age may be,' answered a voice that Nora knew to be Waldemar'i; 'she's very charming, and I shall take advantage of the first convenient opportunity to tell her that I think so.' • Better not,' replied Torp ; ' for although I have been too seldom in England, during the last ten years, to know much about the pecuniary afTairs of these people, I can, at least, tell you that a lot of sons being in the family will prevent this new object of youradoiation from having a sutTi- c'iently large fortune to induce your father to overlook her want of pedigree. I happened once, by a singular chance, to have an interest in ascertaining that the liTienge of these Ni.xons loses itself mysteriously in the obscurity of that part of the city of Loudon where fogs are thickest and days aro •hortcst. ' What matter?* cried WaMomar, laughing; 'that need not prevent me from admiring her toan^- reasonable e.\.tcnt. 204 A CKMNANT OK THE MIDDLE AGES. 1 was not so serious as you supposed, notwithstanding my somewhat strong expressions of connnendation just now, and merely meditate lending her my heart for a week or two wliile we arc at Ahnenau, nothing more, I assure you.' * I wish,' said Torp, ' you would be rational, and do what would 1)0 iniinitcly plea^antcr for me than l)cing thrown among these people, and that is, go at once from hence to the Valley of the Inn ; your father expects us at Herren- hurg, and when these English people have left Almenau there will still be time enough for us to have a few weeks' sport before the end of the season.' ' Very likely,' answered Waldcmar ; 'but Iiy that lime Ji'cne Schauniberg will be with us, and I shall not be able to leave home.' ' What I Do you expect the widowed countess with daughters and dogs from the banks of the Danube?' ' Yes. She comes ostensilily to be present at my brother Carls marriage, which takes place some time next month ; he has been engaged these three years to Lotta Falkner, of St. Benedict's.' Nora, who had withdrawn from the window, unwilling to overhear this conversation, found that unless she closed the casement every word distinctly reached her ear in the profound silence of the night. That they had been sjjeakiug of her she more than suspected ; but fche thought not of them or herself either just then, so complettly had her interest been absorbed by the name of Irene Sohaura- berg and the few words following. Back, back, back she went to her earliest recollections, and the ground-floor of a large house in Vienna was her home. In the hel etage Count Schaumberg lived, and he had sons — rude boys of whom she was much afraid ; they ran after her when she j)layed in the court, chased her up and down the stairs, and one day fairly carried her struggling into their father's apartments, where, pushing her towards a springing laughing little girl of her own age, they exclaimed — 'Tiiere, Irene, there she is for you; don't let her go, or she '11 be off again like an arrow.' But when Irene had whispered, ' Oh, come and play with me, mamma says we may I ' she had gone willingly enough to the drawing-room, and from that time forward thev had become constant A REMNANT OF THE MIDDLE AGES. Q05 companions. Irene's parents had probably found the little English girl a desirable playmate for their daughter, and were kind and attentive to her in consequence, while Mr. Nixon and his wife had encouraged tin intimacy that procured them much pleasant society. Though often, at a later period, separated for long intervals, the regard of the young girls had suffered no diminution ; and about a year before Nora had left Germany she liad spent some time with the Schaumbergs, and, as a parting service, had officiated as bridesmaid when Irene had married her cousin, the chief of another branch of their family. A correspondence of the iTost unreserved description had, in the course of time, slowly worn itself out. The brilliant and fashionable inmate of one of the gayest houses in Vienna could have but little in common with the solitary girl 'Ahose days were passed in reading, and the con- templation 01 the dingy vegetation of Russell-square. It gave Nora, however, sincere pleasure to hear that she should soon be so near the person who had supplied the place of sister to her; but her wish to remain unknown to Torp as long as possible made her resolve to defer her inquiries about her friend for some lime. While these rhoug'nts passed through her mind, she closed the window ill a manner to .attract attention, and so effectually that, ou opening ii again soon afterwards, the speakers had left the «irciiard, and on the road near the house she thought she perceived two figures sauntering slowly towards the banks of the Ammer. The drums of the Aramergau musicians proclaimed t^e break of day. At a very early hour the next morning they beat a reveille through the whole village, which, with the sound of church bells, entering Nora's room through the still open casement, wakened her and her companion most elTectually, and about the time she had completed her toilet the band commenced playing in a manner to draw her irresistibly towards the window. As she stretched out her head in eager attention, two other heads from neighbouring windows were protruded also, for the same purpose no doubt, but while one determinately looked away, the other turned towards her to wish a cheerful ' good morning,' and to hope she had slept well. 208 A RKMNAKT OF THE MIDDLE AGF.8. • Tlmnk you — quite well. Is the representation about to bet^in ?' ' Not yet. But you ought to see the church and he.ir high mass : every one in tlio village who can sing will assist, and the porforniers in the drama consider it a duty to begin the day with Divine service.' At this moment the peasant's wife appeared at the door, and told Nora that she would find her breakfast and her brother in the room below. Waldemar heard, and smilingly observed that brothers were not often so punctual, and he had rather begun to hope she would have required him as cicerone. Early as it still was when John and Nora had breakfasted, they found the village streets crowded to excess, and hundreds of people already on their way to the theatre to secure places. John persuaded Nora to go there also, assuring her that from day-break the arrival of spectators had been incessant, and that no theatre could possibly contain them all. Perhaps he was right — at all events figures in Oriental dresses and draperies began to Hit about the village; groups of children assembled before the houses to have their costumes inspected ; but the report of a cannon from the precincts of the theatre made all turn in that direction ; and in the midst of a rather motley multitude, Nora and John found their way to the large inclosure formed by wooden planks, and alone remarkable for its enormous circumference. 9. short llight of steps brought them into one of the boxes that were erected behind, and a little above the space that descended araphitheatrically to the orchestra, Avliich contained seats for six thousand persons. The stage was of suflQcient extent to suit this theatre, and the great drama about to be performed on it. There was a pro- scenium of considerable depth, and beyond it a closed theatre of smaller dimensions, for the representation of interior scenes and tableaux from the Old Testament: and this theatre within a theatre had at each side a building, with balconies, joined by arches to the side- scenes of the proscenium. Through these ai'ches two long streets of Jerusalem were constantly visible ; and when A REMNANT OF THE MIDDLE AGES. Q07 the middle tlioatre was closed by its curtain, represeniing also a street in perspective, the whole formed a view of the city of Jerusalem. Crowds of people soon began to pour in at all iho entrances ; and the various costumes of the ditlcrent parts of Tyrol and Bavaria found numerous representatives, in the brightest and freshest colours. John found time to become an enthusiastic admirer of the black bodices and lantastic head-dresses of the women ; while some vague ideas entered his mind of procuring for himself one of those loose jackets and picturesque hats, that seemed to make ' the commonest fellows,' as he expressed it to Nora, * look something like ! ' She paid little attention to his remarks, being at first too much occupied with the con- struction of the stage, and aftenvards with the demeanour of the audience, as iliey defiled slowly between the benclies, and reverentially took their places, as if in a churcli — even their greetings to each other were subdued ; the men exchanged silent nods, the women whispered gravely, while spreading out their text-books, and seemed wholly occupied with the great drama about to be enacted. It was curious that, on observing all this, Nora's doubts and scruples about the propriety of witnessing the repre- sentation returned in full force, and that she turned towards Torp, who, with Waldemar, had taken a place in the adjacent box, to see if he shared her uneasiness. Leaning forward, with an elbow placed on his crossed knees, liis chin resting on his hand, he gazed at the la^- scape beyond the theatre, with a calm earnestness tfflt might perhaps have reassured a less careful observer; but Nora would just then have preferred seeing him watching the progress of Waldemar's rapid sketch of the classical stage with its proscenium, or interested in the groups of picturesque peasants standing immediately below him. To Waldemar she would not speak : how could a Tyrolean, accustomed from infancy to see his Saviour represented in every possible way, pictorial and sculptural, understand the fear of profanation with which a living representative inspired her? She herself believed she could, ten years jtreviously, have taken her place among the spectators, with feelings of more curiosity and interest SOS A REMNANT OF THE MIDDLE AGES. than uneasiness and awe. Familiar then witli pictnres and imacjes of the crucified Redeemer, not only in churches and chapels, on the high-road, and beside the scarcely- trodden woodland path, but in every cottage, in every house, almost in every dwelling-room, while lithographs of the same mild face might be shaken from among the leaves of most books of prayer, she would liave found far less to shock her in the rej)resentation that now filled her mind with anxiety and dismay. She recalled to her memory every argument that could tend to reassure her, — it would be but a succession of living pictures ; she had heard they were eminently well arranged ; the performers were simple religious peasants, full of enthusiasm, deeply impressed with the necessity of fulfilling a solemn vcw, * and with intentions and objects as pure as could be found on earth. As the echo of the last cannon was lost in the sur- rounding hills, the overture commenced. Soon after the chorus filled the proscenium, and all Nora's remaining scruples were absorbed in the most intense interest. The stage arrangements possessed all the charms of novelty to her ; and; with the assistance of a te.Kt-book, she easily followed the leaders of the chorus, as, generally singing, but occasionally reciting, they explained the tableau-x represented on the inclosed and smaller stage, or prepared the audience for the ne.xt act of the drama, while e.vhorting them to devotion and repentance. And this chorus, so fantastically dressed in white tunics, coloured sandals, girdles, and mantles, with crown-like plumed head-dresses, soon became so familiar, as not in the least to detract from the reality given to all else by the bright daylight, the summer sky with its passing clouds, and the pasture-land, hills, and woods, seen beyond the streets and above the houses of Jerusalem. It would be dillicult to describe Nora's feelings as tha • In the year 1G33, when the village was visited by a devastating and contagions disorder, tho monks ot'Eltal induced tlie parish t* make a vuw, 'That in lliankful devotion, and for edifying contem- plation, thej' wcjuld, every ten yeHvs, puljlicly represent the Passion of Jesus, the Saviour of the world.' Whereupon the parish that had made the vow was immediately freed from the pealilence. A REMNANT OF THE MIDDLE AGES. Q09 representative of Jesus appeared on the scene ; Lut so completely did llie person and manner of the artist per- former satisfy her hij^h-wrought expectations, that dissatis- faction or disappointment was certainly not among them. She perceived instantly that what was then hefore her would take the place of all the pictures and statues she hud ever seen, and remain indelibly impressed on her mind for ever. It was, therefore, this one deeply interesting figure, with the pale face, tinely chiselled features, and parted waving hair which has become typical, that she followed with breathless interest and anxiety throughout. and never did the eminence of the character of Christ strike her so forcibly, or the worthlessness of mankind, and the ignoble motives that are the springs of their actions become so glaringly apparent as on this occasion. The monologues of the principal actors, showing the current of their thoughts without reserve, made each as it were a psychological study, yet so simple and forcible, as to be within the comprehension of the most illiterate among the audience. The sending of Jesus from one tribunal to another, the wish of those who knew his innocence to avoid the responsibility of his martyrdom, yet determination that he should sulfer, his being forsaken by every friend at the moment of danger; in short, all that habit enables us to read and hear read almost unmoved, and as a matter of liistory, was brought before Nora with a force so perfectly irresistible, that, various and eloquent as had ofteii been the sermons she had heard, e."ccellent and celebrated as were the pictures she had seen, never had she been moved as on the present occasion. A sceptic might perhaps have followed the representation with criticising curiosity, a less imaginative mind with calm self-possession : Nora forgot herself, time, place, spectators, everything, and saw, heard, and felt, with a vividness that at length completely over- whelmed her. As the crucitixion was completed a shudder of horror passed through her whole frame, a sensation of extreme cold seemed to chill her blood, and after some ineffectual elTorts to control, at least outwardly, her emo- tion, she bent down her head and covered her face with her hands, remaining motionless until roused by a whisper from Waldemar. ' Mademoiselle,' he said, ' allow me V* P SIO A IIEMNANT OF TllF. MIDDLE AGES. ndvise you to leave tlio theatre now ; another scene might sveaUcn an impression well worth preserving in all its strength.' Nora rose, loohed back for a moment, saw the commence- ment of the removal from the cross, and soon after found her- self outside the wooden building with Waldemar and John, both more tranquil than she had yet seen them , as they walked slowly beside her towards the silent and deserted village. The pause at the end of the first four hours of the per- formance had been that day unusually short, in consequence of a threatening thunder-storm, which, however, had greatly heightened the effect of the latter part of the drama, by the gloom cast on the scene from the darkening clouds and the incessant rolling of distant thunder. A favourable wind seemed now about to waft the storm awav from Ammergau, and leave the evening sky clear and cloudless. Followed by Torp at a distance, which his curiosity to hear what they were saying induced him by degrees to lessen, Waldemar and Nora reached the cottage, which they had left much about the same time in the morning. The door was open, and Nora entered, turning into the little sitting-room, while Waldemar, instead of following, rem.ained outside, and leaning on the window-sill looked into the room, apparentlj' continuing their conversation when he observed, ' So you have no curiosity — no wish — to see Pflunger? Not even when I can assure j'ou that you will not be at all disappointed by a nearer acquaintance with him? His resemblance to the pictures of our Saviour does not lose in the least by close observation, and there is even something in his manner which accords perfectly with all our preconceived ideas. Let me delay my departure for an hour, and take you to his house.' ' No, thank you,' said Nora, quickly, ' not for any con- sideration would I see him in another dress. I intend to forget that he exists otherwise than as he appeared to me this day. Not even ten years hence would I desire to ^vitness this great drama again ; he will then most probably have lost in appearance some of his present eminent advantages, and 1 wish to preserve the impression made on me today as pure as may be, and as long as ijossible.' AT.MF.NAU. 211 Wfildenifir seemed to cousidcr this conclusive : he raised his hat without speaking another word, and followed the evidently impatient Torp, who. having caught a glimpse of John advancing to meet him, had begun to stride towards the village in a more resolute than civil manner. CHAPTER XIX. ALMENAU. Nora was perfectly sincere in what she had said to Walde- mar; for, much as the artist peasants of Ammergau had interested her, she was so unwilling to weaken the im- pression of what she had just witnessed by a personal acquaintance with any of tiie actors of the drama, that she used all her influence to induce her uncle to leave the village without delay. Her account of the classical arrangements of the theatre, its immense dimensions, the hundreds of actors and thousands of spectators, joined to a performance that had lasted eight hours without producing a moment's lassitude, made Georgina half regret her absence ; but Mr. Xi.xon continued to condemn, in terms of the strongest censure, what he called ' the whole concern;' he would not listen to any explanations, and on reference being made to pictures and statues, declared equally strongly his objections to either in churches, never failing, during their journey of the succeeding days, to express his serious disapprobation of every shrine of the Madonna, or way-side crucitix, tliat they passed. The wax and wooden images, which abounded in the small inns where they stopped to dine or sleep, he pronounced an abomination, treating with contempt Nora's quotation from Goethe, that they served perhaps occasionally to recall wide-wandenng thoughts, and turn them into a higher and better channel. Travelling for the first time in his life, and strongly im- bued with every description of English prejudice, Mr. Nixon found much to surprise, still more to condemn, in all h© saw ; but Nora perceived, with secret satisfaction, that the scenery was beginning to make an impression on him that she had scarcely ventured to expect. He first • allowed ' that the country itself was ' well enough,' then he admitted that the woods were very extensive, and the mountains 213 ALMRNAU. high and picturesque, and ended by acluiowledging that the scenery was grand, very grand. ' But he had always known that Tyrol abounded in mountains ; on the map it was quite black with them.' ' This is not Tyrol ! ' exclaimed Nora, for the hundredth time ; ' we are in the Bavarian Highlands.' ' Well, well,' he answered testily, ' it 's all the same, you know, to us; but having seen this sort of thing, I'm glad to think that we too have highlands — very. Nora, you're very clever, but you'll not be able to show me anything here that we have not at home — and better.' ' Woods and forests, for instance ! ' said Nora, laughing ; 'however, as my knowledge of England is chiefly derived from books, and yours of Germany from maps, we had better not attempt a discussion.' What resemljlance to England there might be in the beautiful country through which they were travelling, Nora knew not, and could therefore make no mental comparison. She gazed with profound admiration at the vast e.xtent of forest that covered long ranges of mountains ; for Al- menau was essentially a forest district, and the road as it approached the village, formed in the side of a mountain, presented a wall of blasted stone on one hand, while, on the other, a wooded precipice descended to a foaming tor- rent that forced its way lioisterously through, and over masses of rock. Innumerable alpine plants still flowered luxuriantly wherever the dark heath-mould could find a resting-place, and nothing as yet marked the approach towards autumn. The windings of the road brought various changes : sometimes an opening showed the rocky-pointed or rugged summits of the mountains, that had appeared far distant but a few hours before, now quite close to them ; at others, inclosed in wood, an occasional glade gave an opportunity of admiring the foliage of the beech, birch, and maple, that seemed to have replaced the pine in every sheltered nook. On reaching the top of a long ascent, where on a guide- post the words ' Drag-chain, or fine,' were printed in large letters, beneath a sketch of something greatly resembling a ploughshare, the postilions having descended and com- menced a clattering with chains beneath the carriage, ALMENAU. 2 1 3 totally indifferent to the courier's entreaties, in broken German, that they would not injure the wheels, Nora learned, between their muiterings about the monstrous weight and proportions of the carriage, that the journey was drawing to a close, and that the next village was Almenau. Directly before her lay a valley with a river winding through it, and bounded on each side by wooded mountains, beyond which she saw still higher with summits of stone, and still further distant than these last, others partially covered with snow. A tall pointed church steeple formed the middle of the view, denoting the site of the village, and on reaching that part of the road which partially fol- lowed the course of the river, some isolated cottages already formed a sort of suburb to it. ' Well now — aw — really — all this —is very pretty.' ob- served Mr. Ni.xon. ' Whose place is that ".' ' asked Gcorgina, with more than usual animation, as she caught a glimpse of a large building close beside a small but picturesque lake, on the calm waters of which tliu golden-culourcd clouds were dis- tinctly rellected. * It 's the brewery,' said the postilion, on being questioned, and Nora, as usual, interpreted. ' But there is a church with Gothic windows and a belfry.' • lie says it was a monastery in former times,' explained Nora. ' I declare I should not at all dislike living there,' con- tinued Georgina. 'What beautiful trees I and those little promontories running into the lake make it so pretty ! I wonder is there a good neighbourhood here?' 'In that case, perhaps, you would marry the brewer?' suggested John. Georgina threw back her head, and smiled disdainfully. * If this ])lrtce, or anythiiig similar, is to be sold.' said Nora, ' I shall be tcm[)icd to purchase it, and remain hero for the rest of my life.' • You are not serious, Nora?' asked Mr. Nixon, gravely. ' Perfectly, I assure yon.' she answeretl : ' but I shall not be in a hurry, for I might perhaps prefer that ruined 211 AI.ilENAD. castle on the hill. You, who understand so perfectly the state of my afTuirs, will be able to tell me if 1 can afford to rebuild as well as purchase it.' ' I should rather have expected to hear you talk in this wjiy ten years ago,' began Mr. Nixon, seriously ; ' but after having resided so long in England ' ' So long in Piussell-square, you mean,' said Nora, in- terrupting him, laughingly ; ' I know nothing of England — but a great deal about such places as this ; and even ir" I return to London with you, I am afraid you will never be able to persuade me to remain long there.' ' I perceive that you will marry a foreigner, and desert us altogether, Nora.' ' Let me assure you that I have no thought of marriage at present, though a very strong desire to have a home of my own somewhere or other. By that lake, for instance, or on that hill, in the valley of the Inn, or — or — anywhere, provided I can look at such mountains as these, and feel young again ! What wonderful castles in the air I used to build in such places, with my mother, when I was a •child ! I wish,' she added with a sigh, ' I wish she were now alive, and able to join me in the more solid kind of architecture in which I may soon be tempted to indulge.' The road had turned from the river, the valley widened perceptibly, the houses, with their long, ftmcifully painted wooden balconies, and their overhanging shingle-covered roofs, secured from the ravages of storm by large stones placed at irregular distances upon them, seemed to draw closer to each other, until they were at length merely separated by their respective orchards, or a clump of old trees ; yet so little appearance of what might be called a street was visible, that they were all a good deal surprised when the carriage drew up before a house perfectly similar to the others in form, though on a much larger scale. It was the inn, and presented a large gable with double balconies to the road ; looked very freshly white- washed, very spacious, and very clean ; and a very stout landlady, with a good-humoured face and rosy cheeks, advanced towards them, while the ostler in his linen apron, red waistcoat, black velveteen jacket, and tasselled cap, busied himself about the horses. ALME.NAO. *215 The necessary questions about rooms were asked : and Georgina was not a little astonished when infoiined that she could not have the number she required, and that there was not a single private sitting-room in the whole house. Nora explained in vain that there was a parlour little used by strangers during the day, and that people passed their time chieily in the opeu air in sunnuer ; and she pointed across the roud to a grass garden where, under the shade of luxuriant chestnut and lime trees, tables and benches of every size were arranged, while a long, many- windowed wooden building, equally well furnished, had been erected in continuation of an iuclosure for the favourite game of skittles. Georgina shook her head, and murmured something about the impossibility of existing without a drawing-room ; but she descended from the carriage and followed Nora into the house. At one side of the broad passage where they entered there was the parlour mentioned by Nora, containing tables covered with green oilcloth, glazed cupboards filled with china and silver, a row of pegs for the hanging up of hats on the wall, numerous portraits of the roval family in black frames, and — a guitar. On the other side a wide open door permitted a full view of the capacious peasants' room, where at some of the numerous deal tables about fifteen or twenty men were drinking their evening tankard of beer, and at intervals singing loudly in chorus. Here John remained, while the others ascended the broad staircase, preceded by the lajidlady jingling a monstrous bunch of keys. She passed by the rooms on the first floor, observing to Nora that they had l)een engaged some days previously by Count Waldemar Benndorff and his friend Milor Torp. These last words Georgina understood ; and Torp himself had not been more amused when he heard of ^lilor Nixon than she now was. ' 1 thiwk,' she said, laugliing. ' I think. Nora, we must give liim strawberry leaves, and call him the Marquis of Carabb;is — he really seems to be every- where.' The landlady, proud of her house and its capacious cor- ridors, could not resist the temptation to show her ball- loom and its ai.ljoiniug apartments to the strangers, and 210 ALMLNAU. Gtoigina would willinf;ly have taken one of tlio latter for a flrawiiig room, tiotwitlistamling its bare walls and want of proper furniture, liad slie not been informed that these rooms were lequired for \Yeddinf;s and other festivities, and that tlie church consecration fete was to be celebrated in them before long. Nora, who interpreted, added, ' I shall resign whatever room I may get to you to-morrow, Georgina, as I have been offered a lodging at the forester's house, which is close by, and will be a much quieter place than the inn ; and now let us lose no more time, for I wish to go to the cliurchyard before it is dark.' On a •well-chosen prominent spot in the midst of the village stood the large massively built church, with its high, pointed, green steeple. An ascent of several stone steps, and a wooden gate, led to it and the churchyard, which was inclosed by a low wall, and appeared tolerably full of monuments both in stone and iron. The w hh. to be remembered, talked of, and thought of after deatn, seems much stronger in Germany than in England, and manifests itself in the churcliyard of the most insignificant hamlets. Not only the innkeeper, smith, miller, and other leading families of the villages, have their burying-places furnished with handsome monuments, in or near the walls of the church, but every peasant in the neighbourhood who makes any pretension to being well off, possesses likewise his buryinggronnd, more or less furnished with ornament, and all carefully tended by the survivors. The most common monument is in the form of a cross, frequently ot iron, painted, varnished, and gilt; on a plate of copper, in the centre of the cross, one often sees, painted in oil, a miniature full-length portrait of the peasant whose body is mouldering beneath the turf; the figure generally kneeling with clasped hands, gazing upwards at a Madonna or an ascending figure of the Saviour. If the village painter be skilful, or chance sends a wandering artist to the neigh- bourhood who will undertake such work, the whole peasant family appear kneeling side by side — no great demand for striking resemblance in the portraits being made on such occasions, or any artistical arrangement considered neces- sary. The dead and living take the places assigned them by custom — father and mother generally somewhat apart. ALMENAU. 217 their offspring before them placed according to size, liko organ pipes; and sometimes as bai-kground a rather incon- gruous pilhir and red curtain, which latter, being draped aside, discloses a view of the village, with its church and surrounding mountains. English eyes resting on such a picture would scarcely be able to discover that those repre- seuted with hands clasping a crucifix were deceased, the other members of the family alive, at least, at the time the picture in question was painted. Thechurchyard at Alnienau possessed many such pictures; they were not new to Nora, yet she lingered beside them — read the long epitaph of the maiden, Marie Maier, rich in virtue and honour — stooped to decipher the name of the infant represented being borne in swaddling-clothes on the arms of a bright-winged angel to heaven — and even glanced at the unusually numerous triangles in which an eye of large dimensions was used as an emblem of the Supreme Being, until the eyes, many of which were newly and well painted, seemed to turn and watch her as she at length moved slowly towards the grave she had travelled so far to visit. It was, as had been described to her, somewhat apart from the others; and on a black wooden tablet, a couple of feet above the surface of the ground, and already partially hid by the long rank grass that grew wildly around it, she read the name of Arthur Nixon, and the date of his demise. Having pulled up by the roots some offensively luxuriant weeds, slie held tliem unconsciously in her hand, while memory brought Arthur before her, with all his worldly imbition, his self-made cares and sorrows, disappointments ajid early death. The end of all a few feet of earth — not more than was accorded to the poorest peasant in Almenau I Yet he had chosen well when ho had desired to rest in that peaceful churchyard ; for a more lovely spot could scarcely be imagined. Slight as was the elevation, it sufficed to vender visible the course of the river, and to give a view into an adjacent valley, the mountains of which formed dis- tances that would have delighted a painter, while through an openinhing-rod and seek amusement elsewhere, for I strongly suspect he is more likely to shoot one of us than anything else.' These words were spoken so deliberately and distinctly that they were heard by the forester and his son ns they approached the inn, and both smiled significantly, while unceremoniously removing the chamois from John Nixon's sight. Nora too had heard, and thought to herself, * Is it worth that man's while being so very ill-natured and rude to us?' and then she called from the window to John, who instantly ran into the house and upstairs to her. • Did you understand what was said? ' she asked, as ho took his sister's place beside her at the window.' ' Not exactly all the words,' he answered ; * but it is very evident that this Mr. Torp is a disobliging, disagree- able fellow, and won't let the other be civil to us. I must now try to make up to the forester and his son, and if they cannot or will not give me a day's sport, I shall borrow a gun from some one here, and go out deer-stalking by myself.' '•No, Jack, you must not do any such thing,' cried Nora, quickly ; * that would be turning wild hunter, and you might run a chance of being shot yourself 1 ' ' Oh, I don't imagine the danger is so great after all.' said John, ' and wild hunting sounds uncommonly tempt- ing.' ' CaW it poaching, then,' said Nora. • No, I won't; because you see there is a fellow here who will help me if I ask "him. He was just outside the village breaking a horse this morning, and rode so well that 1 asked about i)ira, and heard that he had been six years in a cuirassier regiment, and was now a free man as they call it. to the great ve.xation of the foresters in the neigh- bourhood, as he is. or was. a notorious tcildshoots.' •You mean long Seppel from the Crags,* said Nora; ' • but I can tell you he is not likely to attempt anything of that kind now for many reasons, so you had better leave ic Q24 SAINT BENEDICTS AND ITS INHABITANTS. to me to speak to the forester for you. I have got a room at his house, and can easily iind out what he can do for you, and wlien this Mr. Torp is likely to be out of the way. In the mean time you must take some walks with me, and perhaps my uncle and Georgy may be tempted to join us.' Immediately after their early dinner, or luncheon, as Georgina chose to call it, Adam brouglit the letters and newspapers that had accumulated for them under the address ' jwste rcstanle' at the neighbouring town: they afforded occupation for a couple of hours, and it was late in the afternoon before Nora could persuade her uncle to walk to St. Benedict's, the secularised monastery, with an extensive brewery, the situation of which, beside a small lake, and almost completely surrounded by wooded mountains, had so greatly pleased them the day before. Their way led them along the banks of a clear stream, in which, from time to time, they could see small trout darting backwards and forwards in all directions, which so interested Mr. Nixon and his son that they spent nearly an hour in watching and waiting, and poking long sticks under the banks to dislodge the fish hiding, or supposed to be hiding, there. They all stopped on a bridge of planks where a boy of about twelve years old stood fishing, with a rod of such simple structure that John could not repress a loud ' Bravo ! ' as almost immediately after they drew near him he flung a tolerably large trout on the grass. The young angler was not alone : beside him stood a man in the prime of life, but what his station in the world might be it was at first difficult to guess, as his toilet gave no clue whatever to it. His head was covered by a straw hat of the same materials as those worn by the reapers in the neighbouring fields, nor was it in much better con- dition than the most of them, being rather dingy and of uncertain form; a black kercljief was very carelessly slung round his throat ; he wore one of the loose grey jackets that seemed to be common to all ranks ; and his trousers, of the same rather coarse material, wore nevertheless care- fully turned up above his nailed shoes to prevent them from being injured by the marshy ground or water into S.VINT BliNtOlCTS AND ITS INHABITANTS 225 ;\liich he occasionally splashed with perfect inicnnccrn. Tlie l)oy called him Ernst, and danced round him while ho disengaged the struggUng tish and arranged another bait upon tlie angle, which con^sisted morel\' of a piece of twiuo fastened to the end of a still green brancii of hazel-wood. Mr. Nixon's knowledge of lish was conlined to a market or a dintier-tahle ; of the art of angling he was utterly ignorant, but it seemed to be such child's play in that clear shallow brook that he was suddenly seized with a desire to become a fisherman, and accordingly advanced with an air of grave interest to look on ; while John, in execrable German, worulered that anything could be dono with such miserable tackle : he supposed lish must be very plenty thereabouts. ' We are not badly ofT.' replied Ernst, in very good French ; ' the streams have small fry such as this, the river below the village large trout and greylings, and the lake is well stocked with carp, pike, and so forth.' Nora interpreted to her uncle, but no sooner had the stranger heard her speak English than he turned to ^Ir. Ni.von and said, with a smile, ' If you are a hshermau you can have much sport here— but Englishman fisherman — fisherman Englishman — is all the same.' • Why — yes — I believe we are considered pretty good in that line, but for my own part I have never thought it worth while to fish; the London markets alTord such choice and variety that, aw — a man is not likely to think of providing for his table himself, as he might be obliged to do here.' The stranger looked at him with some wonder, and suggested that the sport was generally the strongest inducement. • Well, perhaps you are right. I can imagine it a pleasant enongli sort of pastime in such a place as this, and confess 1 should like to try my hand at it.' ' In tliat case,' said the other, * 1 may venture to offer you the fishing of this stream and the lake during the time j'ou remain in this neighbourhood.' ' You aie very kind — very liberal indeed ! ' said Mr. Nixon. • Not at all,' said Ernst, giving his young companion hia 226 BAINT benedict's AND ITS INHABITANTS. rod apjain, and directing him where to throw it, 'not at all, for were you what the English call a "complete angler," I should probably not have made the ofTcr. One a year is as much as I can permit here, and there is now at Almeuau an Englishman ' ' I\lr. Torp ?' said John. ' Tliat was not the name — the note, I think, mentioned a Lord somebody.' ' Oh, they call him Lord Torp at the inn ' 'And is he not a Lord'." asked Ernst, turning round. 'Not he!' answered John, laughing ironically, 'not more Lord Torp than I am Lord Ni.\.ou. Titles are not so plenty in England as in Germany ! ' ' I suppose you know him well ? ' said Ernst, half inter- rogatively. ' No — not at all — and I don't want to,' replied John, with ill-concealed pique. 'Very odd — very odd,* murmured the other. 'The English, when they meet in a foreign country, always seem to avoid and dislike each other ! Now Monsieur Torp,' he added, laughing, ' will perhaps say just the same thing of you when he comes here to-morrow.' 'Very likely,' replied John. 'I dou't myself think there is much love lost between us.' • It is not improbable,' observed Mr. Nixon, rather pomp- ously, ' that this Mr. Torp is a highly respectable person, but we do not know him ; he has not moved in our circle in London, and the name is utterly unknown to us; his friend, the young German artist, made altogether a plea- santer impression on us I ' ' Do you mean Benndorff?' ' They call him Waldemar,* said Mr. Nixon ; ' my a says he is quite a gentleman.' ' I should think he was,' replied Ernst, almost laughing. As he spoke they reached the high road from Almeuau to the monastery, and at a short distance perceived, ad- vancing towards them, the two men of whom they had been speaking. Nora prepared herself to hear Torp presented to their new acquaintance by his true name, and to see the change which she did not for a moment doubt it would produce in SAINT BENEDICTS AND ITS INHABITANTS. 'J'2 ( the manner and conduct of all her relations, hut John Imrried lorwani, saying, ' Let us go on and look at the niourtstery church that the people iu the village talk so much about.' * Must we not ask permission to see it?* asked Geor- gina, speaking for the tirst time. ' By no means,' answered the stranger, stopping to let them pass him ; ' our churches are always open.' He raised his hat, and theu turned to meet Waldemar and Torp. •Now who may th^it man be?' soliloquised John, as soon as they were alone. 'The proprietor of the monastery or his son,' said Nora. * That is, you suppose him to be either the brewer himself, or the brewer's sou and heir? ' * Yes.' * Might he not be the steward or book-keeper?' ' Certainly not,' said Georgina, with more than usual decision. John laughed. * Well, do you know, I took him, in the first instance, for something of that kind, and as to Georgy, I am sure his hat and hob-nailed shoes disgusted her at once, to say nothing of the way in which he stood in the water and washed his hands. I have known her call ft man vulgar for less.' * And yet,' said Georgina, ' I suspect I discovered that he was a gentleman before you did.' ' Because ho spoke French, perhaps ? but I can tell you that is a common accomplishment here. However, whatever he may be. he seemed very much inclined to be civil, and I dare say would have siiown us all over tho place if that Torp hail not, as usual, come in our way.' They turned from the lake towards the churcii, the entrance to which w.ls through one of those carved stone Byzantine portals, with mysterious combinations of human ligures and animals, that are supposed to represent the triumph of Christianity over paganism ; and having found the door wide open, to admit the warm air from without, they wandered up and down the long aisles, looking at the pictures and monuments, altars and curiou-«ly-carved con- It'Sbiouals, until their attcntiou was attracted bj a noise in 228 SAINT ncN edict's and its inhabitants. the pallcrv, and on looking up towards tlie organ, they perceived Waldemar, iorp, and their new acquaintance, striding over the musicians' benches until tliey reached the front row, where, seating themselves, a whisjjered con- versation began, which, from the direction of their eyes, Nora strongly suspected was as much about her relations and herself, as the church of St. Benedict's. She had been much pleased at the permission to fish given so unrestrictedly to her uncle ; had even begun to indulge a hope that John would, in the course of time, be allowed to shoot on tlie grounds belonging to the monastery ; and now she beheld her enemy pouring his English prejudices into the ears of the attentively listening Ernst, and, in all probability, obliterating any agreeable im- pression that she and her relatives might perchance have made on him a quarter of an hour previously. Tl)is time Nora did Torp injustice ; he had not spoken until Ernst had made direct inquiries, giving, as a reason, that he wished to be civil to the travellers, and show them the monastery, but considered it necessary to ascertain that they were people who might be introduced to his mother and sistei", who happened just then to be at home. Torp's answer seemed to amuse more than enlighten, when he observed, that he believed them to be highly respectable people, but, as they did not exactly move in the same circle as his family in England, he had never chanced to see them until a few days ago. 'The fact is, you know nothing about them,' said Ernst, laughing ; ' and I had better reserve the acquaintance for myself, and show them our cells and corridors some other day. If I had considered a moment, I should not have questioned you ; for how could you give me information concerning a family who, I had already ascertained, knew nothing of you — not even your name ?' ' Tbey have not yet heard it properly pronounced,' replied Torp ; ' nor is it necessary that they should. I consider it quite a fortunate circumstance that Waldemar has furnished me with so short and insignificant a nom de guerre, and you will oblige me by not entering into any explanations on the sul)ject with any one, especially witli aaj member of this English family. I believe 1 must SAINT benedict's AND ITS INHABITANTS. 2vi9 add that, though personally unacquainted with these Nixons, they are not altogether unknown to me, and you need have no hesitation in presenting tlieoi to cither your mother or sister.' * But,' said Ernst, hesitatingly, ' a day can make no great difference ; and my people are going to-morrow to spend a week or two with the Benndorffs, at Herrenburg, in the Valley of the Inn. Wuldemar has perhaps told you that his brother Carl has long been engaged to my sister, and their marriage is to take place ncs.t month. Carl and 1 have served many years ni the same regiment ; we always applied for leave of absence at the same time ; he preferred spending his with us. instead of going home, and, as a matter of course, fell in love with my sister. Their engagement has caused great intimacy between our family and the Benndorffs ; and if it had not been for "Walderaars arrival, I should have left St. Benedict's to- morrow with the others. 1 mention this to convince you that 1 really do remain here on his account and yours, and therefore wish you would both take up your quarters with me as 1 proposed.' * Thank you,' said Torp, ' I should have accepted your offer, were 1 not likely to be here for several weeks : and before I leave Almenau your house will be so full of wedding guests that you would scarcely know v.here to put me.' ' We have plenty of cells,' answered Ernst, laughing ; •and the only person we e.xpect who requires more than a reasonable quantity of room, is the Countess Schauni- berg ; she generally travels with so many servants, and horses, and dogs, that she overwhelms quiet people such as we are. To do her justice, however, she puts asidu some of her grandeur when with us, and can be very charming w hen she chooses to please, as you know perhaps better than I do, for no friend of Waldemars could avoid intimacy witli the Schaumbergs." * Yet it was through tliem that I became acquainted with him,' said Torp. smiling ; ' their house was one of the pleasantest iu Vienna, and Waldemar almost lived with them ! ' * That was natural enough," rejoined Ernst, ' as he and 230 SAINT BiiXEDlCX's AND ITS INHAB1TANT8. Schauniberg had been educated torjether and were like brothers. WaUleinar is now guardian to the Countess's daughter; and I suppose it is in consequence of that, and his intimacy with l)er, that, directly aiter she became a widow, people said he was engaged to be married to her. At all events, I know he likes her, and the sooner she comes here the better pleased he will be.' ' 1 don't know that,' said Torp, looking towards Walde- raar, and smiling, as he observed him leaning eagerly forward, forgetful of their presence, and wholly occupied with the persons moving about in the church beneath. *I rather think that until Waldemar is actually atlianced or married, he will always contrive to find some one to interest him, or as he says himself, some one to whom he can lend his heart for a few weeks occasionally'.' 'One of these, perhaps?' said Ernst, looking signifi- cantly downwards. Torp nodded. ' That one standing at the door,' he said ; ' and now, if you feel disposed to show these people your monastery, Herr von Falkner, let me again assure you, that there is nothing whatever to prevent you from introducing them to your mother and sister, should chance bring them together. In the mean time Waldemar must take me to your father.* Ernst called Waldemar, and having shown him a door leading from the gallery into the interior of the building, he himself descended l)y a narrow staircase to the church, whence he followed and overtook the Nixons, just as they reached the court in which the principal entrance to the monastery was situated. Unconscious that any one was near thera, Nora observed, that this part of the building seemed of much later date than the church, and was neither very ancient nor very modern, as far as she could judge. She believed she was rather disappointed — the monastery certainly looked better when seen from the road, with its dark background and pretty lake. Mr. Ni.xon said it was a prodigious pile of stone, and would require monastic revenues to keep so many different buildings, and such an extent of roof in order — to say nothing of the innumerable windows! BAINT BENEOrCTS AXD ITS INHABITANTS. 231 Johu tliought it must be a confoundedly gloomy sort of barrack inside. Georgiua pronounced it an interesting, fine old place, and declared she should have no objection whatever to live in it. ' Perhaps you would like to see the interior?' said Ernst, who was so close beside her that she started, and left it to the others to accept his offer. They did so eagerly enough, and followed him as he mounted a handsome stone staircase — their impressions with respect to the immense proportions of the building being coutirmed on seeing long, wide, well-lighted corridors branching off in different directions. The one through which they were conducted was decorated wiih well-painted coats-of-arms, and led to several large, lofty, but simply- furnished apartments ; a long row of cells had been con- verted into bed-rooms, but did not seem to be at present in use ; and there were apparently endless suites of apart- ments quite unoccupied. There was a handsome library, without books; and a music-room, or ratlier hall, of beau- tiful proportions, with marble pillars, paintings in fresco, elaborate stucco-work ornaments, and church-like windows, of which the upper parts were of painted glass. Tlie only furniture of this room was" a marble fountain, at the end opposite the windows ; and Georgina, after expressing un- qualified admiration of the apartment, could not help adding, that she wondered it had not become the favourite resort of the whole family. ' My mother thinks it too large for our small household,' said Ernst, ' and in fact we only occupy ten or twelve rooms at the lake side when we are alone.' * Is it long since you purchased the place ? ' asked Mt i\ixon. ' It has been in our possession as far back as my recollection reaches.' ' Then I suppose you cannot tell me what the value of a property of lliis kind may be ? ' * I fear I must refer you to my father,' answered Ernst; * the woods and brewery make it rather valuable, but both have long been greatly mismanaged, as until a couple of years ago we never resided here.' M-)2 SAINT CL.NEDICi S AND ITS JMIALITANTS. ' The — vicinity of the brewery — was not agreeable perhaps?' suggested Georgina. ' Oh, not at all I ' answered Ernst. ' Brewing is a veif good business in Bavaria, and my fatlier lias quite a pre- ililection for it, but until very latelj' he was in aciive service in the Austrian army : I have also been many years a soldier, and could only get a few weeks' leave of absence occasionally, so there was no one to attend pro- perly to our affairs here, and the place was going to ruin as fast as possible.' "While speaking they had reached the cloisters that were open towards a small court, in the midst of which a fountain played in the almost eternal shade of the sur- rounding buildings, throwing showers of light drops beyond its stone cistern on the dark grass around. Here Nora and Georgina stopped, while Ernst, springing lightly up a few stone steps, threw open the nearest door, saying, ' This is my cell : here I do penance for my sins on rainy days.' Mr. Nixon and John followed him, and found so much to interest and amuse them that a considerable time elapsed before they again made their appearance ; when they did so they were supplied with fishing-rods, and Nora heard with infinite satisfaction an appointment made for the next day at the ti'out stream near the lake. They passed soon after through a garden : at one end of it was an arbour close to the lake, and two ladies were sitting there with Torp, but they did not look round or seem conscious of the presence of strangers, although Waldemar and an old man, with snow-white hair, left them, and the latter, approaching the Nixons, was im- mediately introduced to them by Ernst with the words. ' My father.' Being, however, unable to speak English like his son, he could only bow to ]\Ir. Nixon, and then turn (not as it appeared unwillingly) to Georgina and Nora. Before they ])arted he seemed sincerely to regret that 'business and pleasure,' as he termed it, obliged him to leave homo the ne.xt day ; he hoped, however, to find them at Almenau on his return, and in the mean time offered ihem the use of his lake, boat, and garden. As they slowly walked back towards the village, Johu THE MOUNTAIN MILL. 2u3 observed that it was a great bore not being able to speak either French or Genuau well, adding, * 1 dare say now the old fellow would have let me shoot on his grounds, as well as fish in his lake, if I could have mustered German enoucjh to have asked him properly.' * Uucommonly civil people indeed,' said Mr. Xi.\on ; ' they evidently wish to become acquainted with us — I suppose because we are English I' ♦I rather think that Mr. Waldemar has kindly recom- mended us to them,' observed Nora; 'but at all events I am glad that you and Jack have found an occupation likely to amuse you for a week or two.' CHAPTER XXI. TDE MOUNTAIN MILL. Nora was put in possession of a cheerful little room at the forester's, and her uncle and John went regularly every day to St. Benedict's. Georgina frequently accouipanied them, preferring the garden there to that of the inn, whicli was more the resort of beer-drinking gentlemen auJ cotTee-driuking ladies than she approved. ' It seems.' she observed one day to Nora, when preparing to follow her father to the lake, — ' it seems to me as if the whole neighbourhood had chosen the place as a rendezvous.' ♦ Not at all improbable,' said Nora. * But surely, Nora, you do not approve of your Germans being so constantly lounging about the inns, as seems the custom here'.'' • That entirely depends upon the circumstances io which my Germans live.' ' I can tell you from personal observation, for I have watched them, that there are some — many, in fact, who come here regularly every day. I begin to know their faces.' •Well?* said Nora. 'The young men amuse themselves rolling those horrid wooden balls that make a noise like distant thunder — • quite irritating to one's nerves ; the more elderly are 234 THE MOUNTAIN MILL. occasionally accompanied by wives and shoals of children, but tliey also frequently come alone, and may be seen day after day, smoking and drinldng coffee, wliile reading a small newspaper that seems to contain nothing but ad- vertisements.' ' These people,' said Nora, ' are probably men who have situations in the offices of the neighbouring town ; the distance to this vilhige is about an hour's walk ; and as such perhaps they use it daily for exercise and recreation.' ' But,' continued Georgina, ' some who come in the afternoon remain until quite late at night. Even after you have gone to your room at the forester's, and I have dismissed Nesbitt, the}' may be seen, sitting in the garden, smoking, talking, and singing by candlelight!' ' This,' said Nora, ' is a southern German custom that I cannot take upon me to defend.' Georgina was silent for a few moments, and then observed hesitatingly, ' The custom does not appear to be altogether confined to the employes of the neighbouring town. M. Waldemar, and even the Englishman Torp, are sometimes among the company, which is of a very mixed description. I cannot tell you how surprised I was to see that gentleman-like Austrian officer, Captain Falkner, from St. Benedict's, here also.' Nora was not at all surprised, and merely suggested that he might, perhaps, find it dull at home without his family. * Oh, I perceive you have turned completely German again,' said Georgina; 'but you manage to keep John very nicely from these beer-drinking parties.' ''Who?— I?' ' Yes, — you. I dare say Mr. Torp's disagreeable manner to him was at first the cause of his ceasing to frequent tho garden, but now we see him I'egularly every day either go with you, or follow you to the forester's directly after luncheon.' ' When he goes with me,' said Nora, ' it is to take a walk, but I am much more frequently obliged to engage Rosel as guide and companion, and naturally sup[)osed that when lie did not call for me he was fishing at St. Benedict's.' ' He will never learn to fish,' said Georgina, ' and does nothing but mutter and srumble, and destroy Captaiu THE MOUNTAIN MILL. SoS Falkner's tackle whenever he is with us. Papa, however, is very successful, and yesterday caught quite a large trout at the bridge near tlie brewery. Captain Falkuerw;is with him. and was so polite and good-natured, that we took quite a fancy to him.' Nora, who had at first turned to Georgina, and listened with marked attention, seemed wonderfully little interested either about the fish or Captain Falkner, so that even when her cousin added. ' He remained wiih us afterwards during the afternoon, and chatted very pleasantly,' she scarcely ap- peared to hear her, aiid proved her inattention by asking abruptly, * Has Jack been talking of chamois hunting lately ? ' * Not so much as at tirst,' answered Georgina; 'it is provoking that the forester takes care of, and rents the game on the lands of St. Benedict's, so that Captain Falkner has no longer a right to give permission to shoot on them. He mentioned having used all his influence lately in favour of M. Waldemars friend, or something to that purport ; so you see, dear Nora, this tiresome Torp is again in our way.' * Tiresome I ' exclaimed Nora, ' he is perfectly detestable — the most complete egotist I ever met. That good-natured M. W.aldemar and the forester would, I know, have made no difficulties about allowing Jack to go out with them oc- casionally, if this odious man had not objected. 1 heard what he said myself, and as there is no chance of his giving way for some time, there is every probability that Jack will end by making the acquaintance, and hunting with a young man here, who is a noted wildschuetz. Do you not remember his threatening to do so the very day after we came here?' No. Georgina had no recollection of anything of the kind, nor the remotest idea of the danger to which her brother might be exposed, should he put his threat into execution. Nora did not think it necessary to alarm her, but resolved to endeavour to kei>p John out of temptation, by communicating her apprehensions to the forester's daughter Rosel. and inducing her to speak to Seppel. She therefore parted from Georgina at the turn to St. lienedict's, and, pursuing the course of the stream in a contrary di- ~v^V> THE yuUNXAlN MILL. rection, was soon again close to the village, somewhat beyond the last houses of which the forester's was con- spicuous, from its dazzling white walls, bright green jalousies, and the gigantic antlers of a stag that decorated the gable beneath which the entrance was placed. It was separated from the road by a trim garden, with a rustic paling, and also by the stream, which here began to give unmistakable tokens of its mountain origin by brawling over large stones, and working its way beneath rocks pro- truding from the banks, effectually undermniing the roots of the few old trees that still remained in its immediate vicinity. Nora entered the ever-open door, and in order to put her plan at once into execution, requested Rosel to accompany her to the Crags, informing lier immediately after thej left the house why she wished to go there, and making no attempt to conceal her anxiety about her cousin. Every trace of colour fursook Rosel's fi^ce as she listened. She remembered having seen the young Englishman pass their house frequently; she had observed Seppel standing with him near the inn on Sunday morning ; and recollected, with dismay, her lover's unqualified praise of young Herr Nix, whom he had declared to be 'a lad of spirit, — up to any- thing, — afraid of nobody, and the making of a good soldier.' Yet a natural inclination to defend Seppel from suspicion, even in the mind of Xora, made her refrain from giving utterance to her misgivings, and when she spoke, it was with a forced smile and in assumed confidence. * He promised me never to go out wild-hunting again/ she said, 'and I don't think he will. Not that he wouldn't dare, but his father has been brought round to promise to resign the Crags to him, and with such a prospect in view he will not be easily tempted.' ' Don't you think, however, it would be better if you were to speak to him?' said Nora. 'Of course I'll speak to him, but it's hard to know what to say, when he tells me he is no longer a wildschuetz, and that I ought to believe him when he says so.' •At least,' said Nora, 'you can recommend him not to venture liis life, and injure his future prospects, by attempting anything of the kind now, wheu your fathev THE MOUNTAIN MILL. iI37 and brother. Count '»Valdemar, Mr. Torp, and Capuiiu Falkner. may meet him any ilay and at any hour.' 'That's not the way to talk to him,' answered Rosel : ' the danrjer is just what he Hkes best. I am more afraid of suspicion falling on him than anything else ; there is not much chance of their either seeing or taking hini prisoner, for he knows the mountains better than any of them.' * Remember,' said Nora, ' ray cousin will be with him, who, perhaps, cannot so easily make his escape in case of danger, and they m.iy both be tired at, as armed poachers, and wounded ' ' Or killed,' said Rosel, with a shudder, 'killed by ray father or brother if they do not instantly stop when called to, and deliver up their rifles on the Oi-st summons ; and that Seppel will never do, though he knows that when ray eldest brother lest his life iu an encounter with a wildschuetz, my father swore that in future his second call should be the whistle of a bullet, and he would hence- forAvard hunt a wildschuetz with as little compuuctioii as if he were a chamois or deer.' * And your father is, probably, a good marksman ?' said Nora, half inquiringly. * Few better,' answered Rosel. * And is it possible that, under such circumstances, there are men in this neighbourhood daring enough to venture out deerstalking?' * More than 1 like to say,' replied Rosel, nodding her head; 'the danger is the last thing they take into consideration, and many are only prevented from going out by want of time, or the chance that their absence from home might excite suspicion. There is no use in trying to make our young men here look upon this hunting as a crinie — only those who have served their two or three years in the army can understand the game laws, and refrain altogether from hunting.' ' I thought they were obliged to serve si.-c years,' observed Nora. * So they do, nominally, but when the frequent leave of absence is reckoned, it is in the end not more tlian half the time. Serving in the army improves and steadies 238 THE MOUNTAIN MILL. them all, more or less ; and even Seppel lias become quite anotlier man since he has been in the cuirassiers.' While speaking they had sauntered in slow ascent along the banks of the stream, which began to fall in noisy cascades, and form deep green pools among rocks, that as they advanced imperceptibly assumed larger proportions. The valley narrowed, the high road seemed to dwindle into a pathway far up on the side of the mountain, and a sudden turn brought them so near the mill that they could see the stream splashing over the labouring wheels, which, with all the demoniacal breathless energy of machinery, ground corn in one building, while in another the trunks of trees were sawed into boards with undeviatiug accu- racy. A little further back, at the base of an abruptly-rising, thickly- wooded mountain, the handsome house of the miller came into view ; its balconies, as is usual in the Bavarian highlands in fine weather, draped, as it were, with feather beds and pillows, the size and number of which, with tlieir blue and red striped covers, being considered a sort of criterion among the peasants of the wealth and cleanliness of the inhabitants. Inflated with warm summer air, they presented a so satisfactory appear- ance to Rosel, that she became loud in their praise and in that of the miller's wife, who was the most active and indefatigable woman in the parish. ' And her daughter?' said Nora, interrogatively. ' Madeleine is young,' she answered, evasively ; ' and, as my father says, has now money enough to make one overlook a little want of steadiness.' ' So then,' said Nora, ' she is not e.\actly the sort of sister-in-law you desired ?' ' My mother and I looked higher for Franz, and my father too. until the miller inherited his brother's fortune. Franz has studied and passed his examinations, and there is nothing to prevent him from becoming a forstmeister and marrying a lady.' 'And would that be more agreeable to you than his choosing one of the friends and companions of your youth ? ' 'A good connection,' answered Rosel, 'such as the THE MOUNTAIN MILL. 239 diinqliter of a cnun'jollor of the forest bonrd, mipht have }icl[ietl him on in his profession. My fatlier often sn'ul that connection was better than money for a man wlio wished to rise in the world.' * Must I hear this even here .'* murmured Nora. * It is true,* continued Rosel, ' I have gone to school with Madeleine, and known her all my life. Perhaps I know her too well. In a small villa;:[e like ours one hears and sees everything that goes on iu the houses of one's neighbours.' 'And what did you see here to displease you?' asked Nora. ' Madeleine seems to be a remarkably quiet and extremely pretty young woman.' * She is not so quiet as you suppose, 'answered Rosel, 'and is always trying to make people love her. I saw myself the trouble she took to please Florian, until he downright asked her in marriage.' * You mean the painter, Florian?' * Yes : he was as sure of her as my brother himself could have been, but Madeleine laughed, said that nothing was further from her thoughts, and that she had only talked to him because he was less unmannerly than the other men in the village.' * I believe I had better not attempt her defence,' said Nora, ' though she is pretty enough to be pardoned a little coquetry.' ' Florian forgave her, at all events,' said Rosel. • He is a kind soul, and bears no malice ; but there is another who will not be put off so easily, and that is black Seppel, the Tyrolean.' ' Black Seppel !' repeated Nora; ' I have heard of him somewhere.' ' lie is the miller's man, who manages eveiTthing, and h;is lived with him upwards of six years. He is come of as good people as the miller's family, and need not have served if it had not been for an accident that caused a quarrel with his father, and forced him to leave home for a while. I suspect Madeleine is not easy in her mind about him, for she has been lately teasing her father to dismiss him; and it seemed quite a relief to both when he left them to spend a month in the Valley of the Inn. They li-lU Tilt; AIOINT.'.IN MILL. rnfiv expect his return nny day now, however, and what he 11 say to the betrothal I 'ni sure 1 vlou't know.* * Is your brother aware of all this ?' asked Nora. 'I believe,' she answered, 'Madeleine tells him just xvhat she thinks necessary, and in such a pleasant sort of way, that he only laughs and likes her all the better.' Nora stopped before the house, which looked so clean and cheerful that she was induced to ascend the stone steps to the door. The miller's wife peered out of her kitchen, and then came bustling towards her, leading the way to the dwelling-room with many expressions of pleasure at so unexpected a visit. The room was large; theAvindows ■well furnislied with geraniums ; the clock filled the place made for it in the wall ; the great green stove occupied the usual space ; the benches round the room, and cross-legged table, were scoured to an unusual degree of whiteness ; and in cages at an open casement two canary birds warbled loudly, straining their little throats to drown the voice of the miller's wife, as she repeated her welcome to Nora, and ver}' unnecessarily swept the spotless table with her apron. ' What a very nice house,' said Nora, looking round her with unaffected pleasure; 'so beautifully situated! so large and airy ! * ' Well, the house is one of the best built hereabouts, and ought to be, having cost money enough.' answered the miller's wife ; ' and I don't deny that I could have my pride and pleasure in it if my old man wasn't always wishing for the old house back again, and talking of how happily we lived in it. Rosel knows better, and young as she is, can remember the sorrow and poverty we had to endure there, and the state it was in. I might say the tire that burnt both house and mill was the greatest piece of luck that ever happened to us, if the miller had not quite broken down from fright, and never been the same since. And he grows worse from year to year, Rosel, and takes no interest in anything, so that but for our man, Seppel, the business could not be carried on at all.' ' I have heard of this Seppel.' said Nora, perceiving that Eosel would not speak, and that an answer of some kind was expected ; ' he is your head workman, I believe?' ' He's everything,' answered the miller's wife ; ' saved me THE MOnNTAIN MILL. 24 i ftnd roy danphter the niplit of the fire, and when, in the midst of the confusion. 1 remembered tliat we had not had money to pay the iiigh insurance, and thoiifjlit everythinc; we had in the world was lost, never shall I forget his tellinj* me that he had himself gone to the town a month before, and paid it for us out of his own money. From that time he has been like a son to me, and if I had another daughter, Kosel, I'd give her to Seppel.' ' People say he would take Madeleine if she would have him.* observed Kosel. * Well, I don't know but he would,' she answered, with a smirk indicative of satisfied motherly vanity ; ' and if she wasn't promised to your brother he 'd be worth thinking of, 1 can tell you. Perhaps.' she added, on observing Nora turn from the window and the canary birds towards the door, ' perhaps the young lady would like to see the house ; strangers often ask to look at it.' Nora smiled a ready acquiescence, and followed her across the passage to the miller's room, when, after ad- miring some jugs and mugs of china and earthenware in glass cases, the drawers beneath them were pulled out, and she was requested to inspect the Sunday and holiday suits of the old couple. Without e.xplanation much might havo escaped Noras notice, notwithstanding all her quickness of comprehension ; but the miller's wife liked talking, and had no desire whatever that the double row of buttons on her husband's coat and waistcoat should pass for ordinary workmanship, when they were good pieces of silver money coined at the mint. This peasant mode of e.vhibiting wealth was new to Nora, and she showed the necessary portion of respect for the buttons, but was naturally more interested in the wardrobe of the female part of the family. The high heavy fur cap of the miller's wife — a curious grenadier sort of head-dress, worn on slate occasions, and too costly to become common — the silk spencers, aprons, black bodices with silver chains and pendent crown-pieces, were all admired in a most satisfactory maimer; and ihen they went up stairs, where, with a look of subdued exulta- tion, the door of one of the front rooms was thrown open by the miller's wife, while she observed with proud huinihty, * This is our best room, a poor place for u young lady like B 212 THE MOUNTAIN MTLL. jou to look at, but peasant people such as wc are have a pride in it somehow.' * And with reason,* said Nora, as she unaffootedly ad- mired the handsome bedsteads and beds, with elaborately flounced pillow-cases and coverlets. As completing furniture to the room, there were tables and chairs, white curtains to the windows, a chest of drawers, and a remarkably large double-doored wardrobe, which last when opened disclosed a sufficient quantity of linen to have furnished a small shop. Carefully bleached and pressed, the pieces were folded and bound round with red tape, as if for sale, and with surprising accuracy the miller's wife could tell the number of ells con- tained in each, the winter when the llax had been spun, the spring when it had been woven, and the summer during which it had been bleached. Nora remarked than a great number of wax tapers, gilt and decorated with foil, or brilliantly coloured, were placed in front of the shelves, and soon learned from her loquacious companion that when they disposed of their hives they generally took some wa.x in part payment. ' For it would look poor not to have 9. store of these,' she explained, • and some we want, at all events, for the church. You may be sure, Rosel,' she added, turning to the admiring girl, ' you may be sure that our Madeleine will not enter your family empty-handed. These silver spoons and my mother's neck- lace go with her to the Forest-house.' This latter she now held towards Nora. It was composed of twelve rows of heavy silver chains, fastened in front by a rococo clasp of immense dimensions, containing some garnets, topaz, and other gems more remarkable for their colour than intrinsic value. ' Indeed, all that }'ou see will be given to Madeleine when ehe marries,' continued the miller's wife, ' for my old man talks of nothing now but selling the mill, and settling in some other part of the country.' ' Oh, you must not let him do that,' cried Rosel, eagerly • I could not bear even the thought of having strangers living here, where I have spent the happiest days of ray life playing with ^fadeleine and Seppel from the Crags.' ' Rosel,' said Nora, looking at her watch, 'you have just reminded me that we were on our way to Seppel and THE MOUNTAIN MILL. ~43 the Crag3. and I perceive it is much later than I sup- posed.' Rosel led the way to a steep mountain path. Nora fol- lowed, but before thej again entered the wood she stopped and looked back. ' What a lovely spot it is ! * she said to her companion : ' T tliink I could live here myself with pleasure if— it were a little — less noisy.' ' Noisj ! ' repeated Rosel. ' Surely you don't mean the water ? ' ' Not exactly ; I could easily get accustomed to that.' ' Or the canarv birds'?' ' No, I like them; but I think the clatter of the mill, and the grating of the saw, must be intolerable when heard incessantly.' ' That's just what makes the mill so pleasant and cheer- ful,' rejoined Rosel. ' I love the place and everything in and about it. for it was here I played as a child, climbing over the planks at the saw-mill when they appeared like mountains to me. and running into the mill to be chased out of it by the miller or one of his men, whom we children called the dragons.' ' You seem to 'like the mill better than the Forest house.' ' I believe I do. My father was feared by the children of the village. 'but the miller let us jump about him as much as we pleased, so we got the habit of coming here, and to this day I like to lake my knitting and sit on the rocks beside the stream, and tliiuk of the years that are past.' ' And, perhaps,' said Nora, merrily, ' perhaps also of those that are to come?' * I cannot deny it,' answered Rosel, moving on, while her cheolAS crimsoned with a blush. ' It was here that I saw Seppel first and last, as I may say : he used to come down from the Crags when we jodel'd where the echo is.' As Rosel finished speaking, she placed a hand at each side of her mouth, bent her body backwards, and uttered R long, loud, clear musical shout coni{>osed of a succession of notes that were repeated, as siiehad e.xpected, by the echo; but scarcely was the last faint sound lost iu the distance, 244 THE CRAG3. when an cqnally loud and still more joyous answerinf^ shout reached them, and then llosel, laughing gaily, sprang fur- ward with an ease and elastiriiy of step that ohliged Nora to use some exertion in order not to be left behind. CHA.PTER XXII. TFIE CRAGS. The Crags was an isolated place, and might, from its elevated situation on the side of a mountain, have beea supposed an autumn alp, had not the surrounding corn- fields and well-filled orchard proved that the ground was good and the climate temperate. In fact, it was a well- sheltered nook ; and, though the upper fields and some extent of pasture land were bounded by the wild, bare, weather-beaten crags, from which it derived its name, a wood of fir and pine trees flourished above them, reaching the summit of the mountain in spite of the frequent inter- ruptions caused by colossal masses of protruding rocks, in the fissures of which not only plants but trees contrived to find sustenance, and grow in the most fantastic and unac- countable manner. The peasant's house bore evident marks of age, and was picturesque in no common degree ; the ground floor alone was built of stone, all else of wood, brown, and weather- stained ; the small lattice windows were glazed with round pieces of the most ordinary glass ; and so low was the balcony that a tall man standing at the door might easily have touched it with his hand, or even plucked one of the crimson pinks that hung temptingly downwards from the half-decayed boxes on the shelf above the balustrade. There were scarlet geraniums there also, and stiff balsams flower- ing exuberantly in broken pitchers and cracked earthen- ware kitchen utensils, adding moi'e to the picturesque interest of the abode than the inhabitants could easily have imagined. The barn, an extensive wooden building, forming a con- tinuation of the house, and under the same roof, had an entrance from the fields so constructed that by means &^ & short and steep ascent the loaded carts could be driven THE CRAGS. 245 into it. The gate was now wiile open, for the corn was being bnuiglit home, and seemed to have required the hands of all the household ; no one was to be seen, though the sound of cheerful voices and the barking of dogs might be hciU'd at no great distance. Nora sat down on one of the benches before the house, taking care not to displace any of the bright yellow milk- basins ranged against the wall, and then looking round her, perceived a small house at a little distance, with closed door and window-shutters, evidently uninhabited, though on its diminutive balcony large heaps of peas were drying in their pods for winter use, and some well gi'own green and yellow gourds had been placed there for ornament or to ri|ien their seeds. ' That "s the house for the old couple when they resign,' taid liosel in a whisper. ' "NVliich f'^r your sake I hope they may do before long,* answered Nora ; ' tiie place is charming, but the house seems very, very old, and rather neglected too. I dare say it will look quite dilTerent when you and Seppel enter into possession.' ' A little tidier, perhaps," said Rosel ; 'but we could not make any great changes as long as the old people live, though a new house would not cost much, as the neigh- bours would help, of course, and the forest rights are as good here as on the millers property.' ' You must tell me all you know about, these forest rights and foresters some other time,' said Nora. ' I don'l know as much as 1 ought to do,' answered Rosel, ' for, after hearing all my life of forest laws, and rights, and revenues, and regulations, I only understand wliat I have seen with my own eyes.' • Quite enough for me.' said Nora, rising ; ' and now, as these people won't come to us, we must go to them.' ' They are taking advantage of the fine weather to bring in their iii-st corn,' said llosel, apologetically. ' Seppel will be sure to come to us as soon as the cart is loaded.' * We need not take him from his work,' observed Nora, smiling at her eagerness to excuse his absence. ' I can ask liim n few questions about my cousin, or you cjin give him a little good advice in the corn-licld as well as anywhere else.' X140 Tiih cr.ACS. Tliey found the whole family worlung together — father, mother, sons, and servants, all equally busy, Seppel alone perhaps not coijipletely engrossed by his occupation. That his eyes wandered round the held, and that he was the first to perceive liosel's approach, was remarked by his mother with a laugh as she followed him, when, shouldering his pitchfork, he advanced to meet the visitors. There was much friendliness in the pump-handle hand-shakes that fol- lowed ; but a good deal less warmth in the manner of the Crags peasant, who continued to give directions to the ser- vants until Nora was close l)ehind him, when, slowly turn- ing round, he formally raised his battered straw hat, and held it pertinaciously in his hand until repeatedly requested by her to replace it. His figure was a good deal bent by age and hard work, his large marked features furrowed with wrinkles ; but the red and brown tints of the face ■denoted health, and contrasted well with the long snow- white hair that hung down to his shoulders : he wore black leather shorts, white stockings, shoes, and a red waistcoat with silver buttons : coat he had none, nor any of the men present, but their shirt sleeves appeared in keeping with every costume, excepting that of Seppel, whose blue cuirassier trousers, foraging cap, erect figure, and well-trimmed moustache made the want of coat, waist- coat, and cravat rather remarkable. The peasant's wife was a stout, elderK' woman, wearing a black bodice, a red-printed calico petticoat, and a broad-brimmed man's hat of coarse black straw. Her cheerful face was lighted up with smiles, and once in possession of Rosel's hand she kept it fast, swinging her arm backwards and forwards while assuring her that she was delighted to see her, and hoping before long ' to be with her old man on a pleasant mission to the forester house.' Nora had walked on with the old peasant, and before long had heard the history of his rheumatic pains during the winter, been made acquainted with his doubts that he would ever again be what he was, and his resolution, in con- sequence, to resign the Crags to his son Seppel, reserving a reasonable maintenance for himself and his wife, and a sum of money for Anderl, which he expected would be paid out of the dowry that the forester would give his daughtec THE CRAGS. 247 The pcfisant spoke as if he took it for granted that Nuia had heard of tlie projected marriage, and knew the plans of the family: so she nodded approval, aud then said, ' Shall I tell thera you will come down and talk the matter over to-morrow evcHing?' ' 1 don't mind if you do,' he answered ; ' they can discourse about it among themselves, and I don't object to your letting them know also that Auderl must have his two thousand florins down before I or my old woman turn i:;'iO the off house. Anderl has been always a good and steady lad, never caused me a days trouble since he came into the world, and has as good a right to his share as another, aud let that other be who he may I ' This was said in a very determined manner, and was succeeded by a succession of nods of the head, evidently intended to challenge opposition. Now Xora. who knew that the two thousand llorins amounted to something less than two hundred pounds English, considered the sum so moderate a provision for a younger son that she remained silent, wondering what he meant, until he continued, ♦And the money must be raised at once, by hook or by crook — for Anderl, after being, as I may say, master aud man here for the last three years, is not likely to turn into a day-labourer on his brothers ground I' ' Of course not,' said Nora. 'Yet it's a common thing about here,' said the old man, who seemed possessed with a spirit of contradiction. * I 've known two or three brothei-s living on together, so that there wasn't a hired servant in their house.' ' Most creditable to the family who so lived,' observed Nora. ' Maybe so,' he rejoined, peevishly, ' but they never came to anything after all. Now my Anderl is ambitious, and intends to make a fortune as ostler in an inn where the custom is good.' * I was not aware that ostlers were so well paid as to enable thera to make fortunes.' said Nora. ♦ It's not a bad tiling in a house where waggoners stop the night, and there is a regular business on the road iu salt, corn, or hides. If you would meution this to tho forester it would be doing a service, as lie 's a sensible '^48 Tllli CliAOS. ninii, and will understand wliy we must have tlie money jiaid down, and no put ell in any way.' Nora promised, and stopped for a moment to look at the double row of beehives ranged on shelves along the side of the house, while the peasant advanced towards a tall, strongly-built, dark-complexioned man. who with long strides was descending from the Crags directly towards the path leading to the mill. ' Hallo, Sepp,' was shouted by the peasant and his sons with stentorian voices, ' stop a minute and tell us how you are, and if you have seen our people at the Kerbstein lake.' The man turned back, not very willingly as it apjieared, answered the various greetings of the family with ill-con- cealed impatience, and then informed them that he had been that morning at the Kerbstein lake with their relations, who were all well, and expected a visit from long Sepjiel the first convenient holiday. ' Which may be next week,' observed Seppel, ' and perhaps to invite them to my wedding ! ' 'Oh, ho!' cried the other, glancing quickly towards Rosel, ' wish you joy with all ray heart — it will be the first wedding in the village this year, and the sooner it takes place the better. A weddin-g 's as good as a church fete any day, and at yours there will be the best music and ' 'Not so fast,' cried old Crags, interrupting him, 'the betrothal must come before the wedding, and we are not clear about that yet. If the forester does handsomer by his son than his daughter, why, all I have to say is — that the son will be married sooner than the daughter. No offence to you, Rosel ; my old woman has of course told you that Anderl must have his portion in hand the day I turn out of this house, and all depends on your father now.' ' Don't be cast down, Eosel,' said the peasant's wife, consolingly, 'leave me to manage for you and Seppel. Your brother Franz will be a forester himself in no time, I dare say, and the miller's Madeleine is so rich that a thousand florins more or less just at first will not ' * Franz and Madeleine ? ' repeated the Tyrolean, inter- rupting her, while a dark shade seemed to pass over his features, and his brows contracted into a fearful frown. * What do you mean ? ' THE CRAGS. 2 19 •That tlicv are to he married at Michaehnas,' she an- swered. • and we fear the forester may do more for liis son than his daughter.' •His son will require little from him on this occasion,' he rejoined, with flashing eyes. * Well, that's just what we all said,' observed the pea- sant's wife ; * Madeleine is so well otf that it cannot be of the least importance when Franz receives what the forester may be able to give him.' * Set your mind at rest." said the Tyrolean, his deep voice trembling perceptibly, while bis colourless lips were forced into a smile ; ' Michaelmas will come and pass over often enough before the miller's Madeleine is the wife of the forester's Franz.' Without waiting to observe the effect produced by his words, he turned to the mill path and was out of sight in a moment. A few e.xclamations of astonishment from the peasant and his wife preceded Nora's leave-taking. Rosel and Seppel, who perfectly understood the cause of the Tyrolean's ire, merely exchanged looks of intelligence, and prepared to follow her; they loitered, however, considerably while fastening the rustic gate in the fence towards the wood, in order to give her time to precede them, which little manoeuvre so delighted the peasant's wife, that she showed her appreciation of their tactics by a shout of laughter, and bv bawling after them a profusion of those coarse epithets, that the tone of voice in which they are uttered can make alternately terms of intense endearment or virulent abuse. That Seppel and Rosel had much to talk about, and many hopes and fears to communical-e to each other may easily be imagined. Certain it is that the distance betweeu them and Nora lengthened as they proceeded, and that she descended the steep path and reached the mill alone. The saws worked on through the quivering wood with a hai-sh grating sound, the water splashed over the heavy wheels, and made them labour round, creaking and clattering without intermission, and so great was the din within the corn mill, that as Nora stopped for a, moment at the door, the civil requests to enter of the men at work there were 250 TliK CnAGS. perfectly unintelligible, excepting as far as gestures and smiles expressed ttiem. It was perhaps in consequence of these noises, that she reached the miller's house before she heard the sound of the loud angry voices within, though they were accompanied by a shullling and trani])ing of feet, to which was soon added a succession of half-suppressed screams, ending in a loud cry of murder. Then Nora rushed into the house, and the door of the sitting-room being open, she beheld black Seppel, with eyes rolling wildly beneath his frowning eyebrows, and features perfectly livid with rage, holding at a distance the miller's wife with one hand, while with the other he grasped her husband's cravat and shirt-collar, pressing his knuckles on the old man's throat, and shaking him in a manner that threatened strangulation. Breath- lessly, and through his fixed teeth, he muttered huskily, •Miserable villain, did you dare to forget that j'ou were in my power ? Was it not with your consent that I set fire to your cursed old mill ? ' ' Ye — ^ye — yes,' gasped the miller, with great difficulty. ' And did you not say I should have your Madeleine as bride the day my father resigned his mill to me? ' The miller made some inarticulate sound, intended per- haps for affirmation. 'Let him go, Seppel, for the love of heaven!' cried his wife, in a voice of agony, while endeavouring in vain to place herself between them. At that moment Nora rushed forward, and as she vainly tried to remove the rough hand, or even loosen its grasp of the neck-cloth, the miller's wife called out, ' Untie iti — untie it, or he will he choked ! ' With trembling hand Nora caught the long ends and drew them towards her, but the knot yielded with great difficulty, and only after repeated efforts, leaving both cravat and shirt-collar still in the hands of the enraged Seppel. who, staggering backwards a few steps, dragged the miller after him to the bench beside the table, where with a jerk he released him, and then, as the storm of passion began to subside, gloomily watched the old mar. s effort to arrange his disordered dress. To the miller's wife, who had burst into tears the moment THE CRAOS. Q.">1 fcer terror had been allayed, and was now sobbing violently, Nora turned and whispered, ' Adieu, Fran ; I can be of no further use here, and must return to the village.' Tlie woman looked uj) anxiously, followed her into tho passage, and said hurriedly, ' You — you have not been here long, I believe?' ' Only a moment before you saw me.* * Did you hear ' ' Not more than a few words,* said Nora, anxious to re- assure her. ' It will be better not to mention this quarrel at the forester's,' she began, with evident embarrassment. * Neither there nor elsewhere,' answered Nora ; ' you may depend upon me.' She walUed towards the garden, and looked up in the direction of the Crags, but instead of Rosel, perceived Madeleine tripping gaily homewards. She had gone at daybreak to her father's alp, having heard from the forester and his son that they were likely to hunt in that neigh- bourhood with Captain Falkner, Count Waldeniar, and Mr. Torp ; and after having done the honours of her hut, by supplying them with cream, butter, and cheese, she had in requital been flattered and cajoled to her heart's content by the mirthful and hungry sportsmen. Thej had accompanied her down the mountain, parted from her but a few minutes before, and the flush of gratified vanity was still on her dimpled cheek as she approached her home, adroitly carrying on her head a Hat basket, in ■which, covered with a napkin, she had put some fresh butter and a cheese for her parents. She was still singing a snatch of one of the Schrjoder- huepfeln with which Captain Falkner and WaUlemar had beguiled the time of rest on the alp, and in clear loud tones was offering a bunch of green ribbons to some imagi- nary deserted lover, when her mother called out, 'Hush, Madeleine I — hush, or you '11 make him as mad as ever!' 'Who?' asked Madeleine, with a careless smile, re- moving her basket from her head, and then courlesying io her best manner to Nora. * Seppel. He 's within,' said her mother. ' Does he know — has he heard ' began Madeleine, 252 THE CRAGS. and then she paused, raised lier apron, and passed it across her face, \\hich became colourless as her mother nodded despoudingly, and pointed to the door of the adjacent room. ' I don't see why I should be more afraid of him than any one else,' she said, forcing an appearance of courage that her pale lips belied. 'I've chosen Franz, and I'm not likely to change my mind for anything Seppel may say.' Impatiently shaking off her mother's detaining hand, she advanced into the room, and, in a half-conciliatory, lialf-defiant manner, held out her hand, exclaiming, * Welcome back, Sepp ; we almost thought you had for- gotten us.' He took her hand, but only to fling it from him with such violence that she reeled to the wall, and with diffi- culty kept herself from falling. * Unmannerly boor ! ' she cried, angrily, ' the next time I offer you my hand you '11 take it, or I 'm much mistaken.' ' JNIadeleine,' said her mother, coming forward, ' I am afraid he has a right to it and yourself, any day, for the asking.' ' I should like to know who gave him such a right?' she asked, saucily. ' Your father,' answered the miller's wife, beginning to sob afresh. ' I did not know until to-day that he was bound by a promise.' ' I 've made no promise,' said Madeleine, angrily inter- rupting her ; ' and if I had, I wouldn't keep it.' •Have you not? — Would you not?' cried Seppel, fiercely, catching her arm, and drawing her towards him. ' No,' she answered, boldly ; ' and I won't be made an- swerable for every thoughtless word I may have spoken to you when I was a child.' 'Child!' he repeated, in angry derision, 'why it is but two years ago, and you were as tall as you are now, and nearly as stout, and quite as handsome, and a deal quieter and humbler ; but at that time, Madeleine, you did not know that an uncle would die suddenly and make you rich ; you thought that few in the village — and least of all the forester's Franz — would think of you as a wife ; and THE CRA08. 2' 8 you know — ftnil right well too — that I was the son of the Vicli miller at the other side of the mountains. One tliinr; you ilid not know,' he added, gloomily. ' hut your lather'might have told you any day, tliat as long as he lives you can never marry any one but me.' •l' don't believe youl' cried Madeleine, vehemently; * and if you think I 'ra afraid of you, you 're greatly mis- taken.' • You're so completely in my power,' continued Seppel, with savage tranquillity, ' that 1 can insist on our lians being published next week, and maybe I '11 do it. Your fatlier daren't object; for we 've done ^/t«« together which makes us more than friends for life.' • You have no proof,' cried the miller, interrupting liim, in a harsh, discordant voice; * no proof of any kind.' ' Have you forgotten the letter you wrote me from Munich, telling me not to do the deed we had planned together?' asked Seppel, malevolently. 'It reached me twelve hours too late, but I have kept it by me carefully, and on my person, ever since. It is here — here I ' he sail I. tapping tiie breast-pocket of his jacket, ' and though, for jny own sake. I shall not use it, unless driven by jealousy to revenge myself, you may as well remember that I am not a man to'be trifled with. Give me your daughter, as you promised, and ' • I won't be given to you ! ' cried Madeleine, passion- ately; 'for I like Franz's little finger better than your whole body. If you had twenty letters from my father I would not marry you.' ' Wait till you know what the letter 's about,' said Seppel, with a bitter smile. ' You have worried me enough for more than three years, Madeleine, and I 'm tired of this sort of life. As to your fancy for the forester's son, it will pass away, like your love for many another that 1 could name. I was the tirst, as you 've often told me — I intend to be the last ; and the sooner you make up your mind to cross the mountains with nie, the better for both perhaps.' He strode across the room, bent his t>ill figure whea passing through the doorway, and as ho ascended the btoirs to his room, Nora left the yarden, to join Kosel and 254 THE CRAG8. lier companion, too much occupied with all she had heard and seen, to remember that she had intended to question and warn the latter about her cousin John. It occurred to her after he had left them to return to the Crags, and Rosel had honestly confessed having forgotten to mention the young Englishman to her lover; but Nora, though greatly provoked at their mutual forgetfulness, had no time to repair it, as she was obliged to hurry on to the village to dine with her relations. Mr. Nixon was in high spirits: he had caught a trout of considerable size, and had invited Captain Falkner to dine with him and partake of it. Fish and fishing was the chief topic of conversation, which in no way interested Nora, e.xcepting inasmuch .as she observed John's in- difference on the subject. When questioned by her after dinner, he said he had no patience for fishing, preferred making excursions on the mountains, and had been that day at St. Hubert's chapel, and in Tyrol, where, at a shabby little inn on the frontiers, he had drunk some capital wine, and made the acquaintance of a miller return- ing to Almenau. ' Black Seppel ? ' suggested Nora. ' I don't know his name,' answered John ; 'he is head man at the new mill outside the village here, and had been to see his father, who is very old and infirm. He often crosses the mountains for that purpose, and appeared known to all the people we met — indeed, he seemed quite at home at most of the peasants' houses, especially on the Tyrolean side.' ' That was black Seppel, I am sure,' said Nora. ' Very likely,' replied John ; ' half the men about here fire called Seppel, or Sepp, which I believe means Joseph. You have only to call a fellow Sepp on chance, and nine times out of ten you will be right.' ' I saw this man at the Crags to-day,' observed Nora, * and took no fancy to him whatever.' ' Nor I either,' said John ; ' so we parted company soon after passing the frontiers, and I returned to the village by St. Benedict's. By-the-by, Nora, that Torp and the others had famous sport this morning ; they were out at daybreak, and, I hear, shot black-cock and a gigantic bird THE CRAGS. 255 called Aurrhahn. Geovfry mifiht say somethin;» for me to Captfiin Falkner: she sees him every clay, and I suspect he fishes with the governor that he may talk to her ; but when I asked her to give him another hint about me, she declared she could not possibly do so, it would have such an odd appearance." Nora smiled. * Have patience. Tack, and you will find that Mr. Torp will tire of the village and its inhabitants before long ; another week's shooting will probably satisfy him. for the forester told me he had already begun to talk of going to Herretiburg in Tyrol.' * Where the Falkners are ? ' asked John. ' Yes ; and when he is gone the forester and his son will do whatever I ask them. In the mean time you must be satisfied with exploring the mountains about here ; and I think you had better not ask long Seppel to go with you as guide", for his father wants him at the Crags, where they have a gieat deal of field-work to do just now.' ' Oh, I know that,' he said, impatiently. ' I was up there yesterday for two or three hours.' 'Jack,' said Nora, reproachfully, 'you went there to borrow a gun, and ask him to go out with you ; I 'm sure you did.' John did not attempt denial, and she continued, ' If no fears of the consequences, as far as you are yourself con- cerned, can deter you, have at least some consideration for this young man, whose prospects would be completely ruined if he engaged in any exploit of the kind just now.' ' Do not be uneasy, my dear Norry.' said John, evidently wishing to end the conversation. ' Your young man has, as you observed just now. no time, and, it appears, but little inclination, to do anything but wield a reaping-hook at present. ' I never was so disappointed in any fellow as in this long Seppel.' ♦ I am glad to hear it,' answered Nora. ' It seems that Piosel was right when she supposed a few years' service in the army had quieted bim.' CHAPTER XXIII. WAYS AND MEANS. Nora returned to the foreMtcr's house at an unusually early hour the next evening, liavnig been requested by Rosel to act as mediatrix, if necessary, between her father and tlie Crags peasant, should any ditTerence arise in their proposed arrangements. She found both families assembled in the little parlour, well supplied with beer, bread, and tobacco, Kosel seated somewhat apart, apparently occupied with her spinning-wheel, but looking very an.\ious and flushed. Nora's arrival as inmate of the house caused neither surprise nor embarrassment ; they all knew her, some had even learned to pronounce her name from the servants at the inn, and greeted her as * Mees Nora,* and Franz and Seppel stumbled against each other in their eagerness to hand her a chair ; but after she had drawn from her pocket a piece of crochet-work and bent over it, they im- mediately resumed their places and the conversation as if no interruption had occurred. The Crags peasant had a packet of yellow-looking papers in an old leather case before him, and Franz, appa- rently acting as secretary, sat pen in hand, prepared to draw up any agreement into which they might enter. ' It was in the year twenty,' said the peasant, adjusting his spectacles on the end of his nose, ' in the year twenty that I entered into possession of the Crags, and, according to contract, agreed to give my parents yearly as follows.' lie opened one of the papers and read slowly^ ' 1 bushel of wheat, '2 ditto rye, 1 peck of barley, 18 lbs. of butter, 100 eggs, 25 lbs. of meat, 6 lbs. of linseed oil, 12 lbs. of flax, one quarter of the orchard fruit; cabbage, potatoes, and turnips as required ; a quart of milk daily ; wood lor fuel, iind the necessary repairs of the off house ; a pair of WAYS AND MEANS. 257 shoes and a pair of slippers amumlly ; and twenty florins a vear, paid quarterly.' 'That's all fair,' observed the forester, with a nod of approbation. * The ground about the Crags is good, and there is no mortgage on it, I believe '.*' • No mortgage,' repeated the peasant, 'and therefore I expect you will make no dilliculty about the provision for Auderl. The young lady there has, perhaps, told you that I e.xpect two thousand florins for him.' • You must be satislied with half the sum,' said the forester, decidedly, ' or — we shall never come to terms. I am not a rich man, but my daughter will not go ill provided into your house. Besides her bed and her spiiming- uheel, her clothes and house-linen, she shall have one thousand florins on the day of her marriage, and perhaps the same sum after my death ; but more than this I cannot give her.' ' Tlicn, neighbour,' said the peasant, doggedly, ' there is no use in talking longer about this matter, unless you choose Seppel to raise the money on mortgage, which, however, / cannot take upon me to recommend.' ' No.' cried tlie forester, pushing his chair backwards, 'no; 1 know too well that such a beginning would lead to ruin. I cannot allow my daughter, and you cannot advise your son, to commence housekeeping with a debt they may never be able to pay off.' ' I don't advise,' said the old man, with a peculiarly artful smile; ' I said if you chose. It all rests with you. Seppel, in his wish to possess the Crags and marry Rosel, is ready to agree to anything, though i have counted over and over ihe income and e.xpenditurc, and proved to him that a few llorins at the end of the year is all he can expect to put aside, and may be thankful, when he has a family, if he can keep clear of debt. Oh no ! 1 don't advise 1 1 leave everything to you.' •Come, come. Crags,* said the forester, smiling, 'wo all know y^ur love of contradiction, but tliis is going too far. People say you have managed to save money, and I suppose your son can do the same.' • My savings are said to be more considerable than th^y really are,' observed the peasant. ' After thirty years' 8 2 J 8 WAYS AND MEAXS. management of the Crags, I have, it is true, contrived to scrape together a few hundred florins, but it is only since m}' sons could help in the work, and corn and cattle have risen in price. The house is now in want of repair.' ' Well.' said the forester, ' there is no denying you might have kept it in better order.' • What for ? ' asked the peasant. ' Maybe that it might look handsomer when seen from the off house after I had resigned? No, no, forester, you don't know me yet.' ' I believe that's true,' said Franz, who had latterly been biting the end of his pen, as he sat ^vith his eyes fixed on the peasant. ' My father is upright and honest, and speaks his mind, but the devil himself could hardly make out what you 're at now. Perhaps you 're not willing to resign. If that's it, say so ; there's nobody has a right to compel you.' ' I 'm willing enough to resign,' he answered slowly. ' After labouring ten years for my father and thirty for my- self, I 've had enough. And what with the rheumatism and ray goitre, and the wish of my old woman to see her Seppel married, I 'm at times more thaii willing ; but knowing the income and expenditure, I can't advise the burdening of the land with a debt, and see no way for the young people but your coming forward with the money.' ' I can't give what I haven't got,' began the forester, an- grily ; but an appealing look from the two women opposite him, and a glance at Rosel's dismayed face, seemed to appease him. ' Let us go a little more into detail,' he added, quietly, ' and see how matters stand. Perhaps you have got your last year's account, and from it we can make an estimate.' Seppel came forward noiselessly, and added one to the eager faces around the table, as the peasant drew from his pocket a large sheet of paper covered with sprawling writing and figures, and, as if he had been prepared for the request, read without comment an account of his outlay and income duririg the preceding year, which, being drawn up in a rather confused style, was listened to with but the more intense attention by all his auditors. When he had ended, no one seemed inclined to speak, and as he laid the paper on the table, and took otf his epectacles, he observed composedly, ' After deducting the WAVS AND MEANS. 2.j9 taxes and parish rates from the overplus, the remainder, I take it, will prove somewhat less than was expected.* Old Crags riihbed his chin and mouth very diligently for ft few seconds, Nora almost thought to hide a smile of satis- faction at the dismay he had caused, and then began to fold up his papers, and replace them in the leather case. * The value of your property has been greatly overrated,' said the forester. * That's not my fault,' answered the peasant; ' the truth might have been known any day for the asking. I thought vou had lived long enough in the mountains to know that the soil so high up is not always of the best description.' ' I know you grow wheat every year,' rejoined the forester. * Well, I don't deny that worse land might be found in the parish than at the Crags,' said the peasant ; ' I dont complain. If I 'ra not rich, I can at least say that no one ever felt want in my house. There's always enough to eat, •and something to spare for a stray guest ; ray servants are paid regularly, and get their shoes, jackets, linen, and harvest-money at the time appointed. We don't work oa holidays at the Crags, and keep our church festival in a becoming manner, and I have always been a contented man, and so was my father before me. and his father before him, and Seppel can live as we have done, and is willing if you '11 consent to raise the second thousand on the land. I dare say you '11 pay the interest during your lifetime, and in your will make all straight again.* * No,' said the forester, rising, ' I cannot consent to this arrangement. You seem to forget that I have two children, and whether or not I may live to save another thousand florins, God only knows. My eldest son fell by the hand of a wildschuet/, and such may be my fate any day in the year — there are enough of them in our neighbourhood' — here he glanced for a moment towards Seppel, and amended his speech by adding, — ' from Tyrol I mean — and I shall never rest until I have hunted them all down. Now, with regard to this money, you see I can do nothing, and promise nothing. My daughter has not been daintily brought up: she is willing and able to work, and can live at tlu; Crags as others have done. It is hard enough that her fortune is 260 WAYS AND MEAX3. taken from her before she enters into possession, as I may say, and given to Anderl; but as to her commencin<; with a loan, and having to pay interest for it, perhaps as long as she lives, that is out of the question, and there is iiotliing more to be said if you will not do something handsome for them.' • I can neither do nor say anything more,' observed the peasant, closing his leather case, and dropping it into one of the pockets of a grass-green coat, that seemed to have been inherited from his father or grandfather, the waist being formed by two large buttons placed almost between his shoulders, the remainder of the garment sweeping the floor at each side of his chair, when seated, and hangir.g down to his heels when he stood up. * I have two childrin, as well as you, forester,' he added, ' and I do not see why one should get all, and the other next to nothing.' ' But the " all " is not much,' interposed the forester's wife; 'Seppel and Rosel will have enough to live upon, and no more. A thousand florins, with what you will give him from your savings, and a home at the Crags, when he chooses to stay there, is surely enough for Anderl.' ' Do you suppose,' said the peasant, angrily, ' that my Anderl is likely to be a day-labourer at the Crags, or to turn wood-cleaver, or charcoal-burner on the mountains here under your husband ? We have other plans for him, as the young lady there might have told you, and he shall not come short, let what will happen, for it is only lately that my wife has made me give up my intention of resigning to Anderl instead of Seppel.' 'Ah — ah I' cried the forester, with a look of intelligence. * is that your drift ? — then indeed there is no chance of our coming to terms. ' Rosel,' he said, turning to his daughter, ' you see that no ill-will on my part against Seppel stands between you and your happiness. You know that I cannot do more than 1 offered just now, and after hearing that the income at the Crags, even in good years, so very little exceeds the expenditure, you must be convinced that I am right in refusing my consent to the proposed mortgage.' ' Of course, father — of course you know best,' faltered Rosel, ' but — but I cannot give up Seppel ! ' One hand WAYS AND MEANS. QTl wiped the tears from her eyes, the other she extended frankly to her lover. Nora, who had fallowed attentively the calculations of the peasant, and listened to the discussion that had preceded and followed it with the deepest interest, now rose, and hiying her hand gently on liosels shoulder, said. * I can be of use here, or rather we can be of use to each other, llosel. You know,' she added, turning to the forester, ' that I have come to Almenau to erect a toml>- stone on the grave of a very near relation in the church- yard here. 1 want some one to take charge of this grave, to plant flowers on it in summer, and decorate it with wreaths during the winter, and consider a thousand florins by no means too much for this purpose. Kosel shall receive the mouey from me any day you appoint, on condition that Seppel promises for himself, and imposes as a duty on all future possessors of the Crags, to attend to this grave in the manner 1 have described.' Great was the surprise and delight caused by this speech, the old Crags peasant alone appearing more astonished than pleased, liosel seized Nora's hand, and stared at her in speechless happiness ; the forester bowed repeatedly, and said the proposal was munificent, the engagement should be contracted formally, and an agree- ment concerning the grave drawn up, signed, sealed, and delivered into her hands; Seppel, standing before her erect, as if about to present arms, first thanked, and theit assured her she had not misjdaced her generosity, and that; no grave in the parish should be better attended to than that of her relation. The forester's wife and Seppel's mother were loud in their expressions of gratitude, but no entreaties could prevail on the Crags peasant to resuiue his seat, in order to drink another glass of beer, and wish the young people a speedy and merry wedding. • Time enuugh — time enough,' he said testily, drawing a black silk night-cap over his head, and taking up his hat, ' time enough when the day of betrothal comes.' • But,' said the forester, ' I hope you 'II go to the town, and ask the .judge to name a day next week for the drawing up of the surrender and marriage contract; and 262 WAVS AND MEANS. when all is in order we '11 have a little merry-making here, and I dare say Mees Nora won't disdain to join us, oi Count Waldeniar either.' •I 'm not going into tho town till Wednesday,' said the peasant, peevishly. 'Well, Wednesday is not long off,' ohserved the forester, good-huniouredly, ' we 're not going to be unreasonable ; and if Seppel sows the winter corn on his own account this year at the Crags, it 's all we want or e.xpcct.' Nora had found an opportunity of leaving the room unperceived, and it was evident that the peasant had been put into a more congenial humour afterwards, for as he passed beneath the balcony on which she was standing, when he left the house, she heai'd him talking and laughing as gaily as the forester and his family, who all accom- panied him as he turned into the pathway leading to the Crags. While Nora looked after the noisy happy party, her mind was so occupied with kind sympathy, and generous plans for future benefits to be conferred on llosel, that she was unconscious of the approach of Waldemar and Torp, who, having iished with tolerable success in the trout streams near the village, now turned to the forester's house, to inquire about their chance of sport the ensuing day, should they go out deer-stalking. Waldemar loitered and looked round him, Torp strode quickly forward, for, like most Englishmen, he made a business even of })leasure, and with the most unceasing perseverance fished and hunted alternately, pursuing his sports with an intentness and eagerness that not un- frequently made him overlook the beauties of the country about him, or caused him to consider many of them as mere impediments, which, when overcome, would serve to enhance iu his own and others' eyes the triumph of success. While Waldemar, with head uncovered and upturned smiling face, addressed Nora, and induced her to lean over the balcony to answer him, Torp, scarcely glancing toward her, merely touched his hat, and stalked into the house. He was still employed questioning the stupid old woman, who was rinsing beer-glasses iu the kitchen, as to the time WAYS AND MEANS. 203 when the forester was expected home, when he heard his friend enter the adjacent passage and bound up the stairs three or lour steps at a time. It was in vain he cleared his throat, coughed sigiiiticantl}-, and tinally called to hira. Waldcmar either did not or would not hear, and Torp, with an impatient shrug of his shoulders, entered the little sitting-room, and naturall}- turned to the gunrack, :\s the object most likely to interest him while awaiting the return of the forester or his son. In order to gain a nearer view of the rifles and fowling-pieces, he pushed aside with his foot a spinning-wheel, and on the floor where it had stood perceived a small patent pocket-book, firmly closed, with patent pencil. He picked it np, examined it for a moment, and though there was no nan;o or initial on the green morocco cover — no engraving on the pale amethyst that decorated the top of the pencil — he knew that it could only belong to Nora Nixon, and therefore pitched it carelessly on the nearest window-stool. This would not be worth recording, had he not afterwards occasionally interrupted his inspection of the fire-arms iu order to glance towards the neat little book, and ended by once more taking it up, and then deliberately walking out of the room. Restoring it to its owner would, he thought, serve to interrupt a teted-tele that had already lasted long enough ; yet he hesitated, and hai-dly knew how to put his plan in execution, when, on reaching the lobby, he caught a glimpse of Waldemar through the door that opened on the balcony. He was sitting on a wooden bench with Nora, bending forwards, and explaining the last drawings he had made in his sketch-book, which was spread open between them. The noise of the stream before the house prevented Torp from hearing what Waldcmar said, when, pointing to some spot on the paper, he observed, ' It was somewhere here that Torp shot the black-cock yesterday morning, and with a rifle too ! He is a capital shot with a biiUet, and hunts with a patience and perseverance that are at times quite incomprehensible to me. I like deer-stalking as well as most sportsmen, and will climb, and creep, and crawl as long as any one ; but to sUmd for hours waiting for a shot, either iu the twilight or moonlight, is a thing I 2C4 WAYS AND MEANS. can't endure, so I generally leave him viih the foreste? or Franz, and take rei"u their party : she felt, too, some natural irritation at his 2G6 WAYS AND MEANS. tliinldng it necestary to defend his friend from the ima. .qinary danger of her society, and not a little increase of indignation at his interference on all occasions. ' Am I to understand that you have changed your mind, and will not accept my escort'?' asked Waldemar, rising. ' Precisely,' answered Nora. ' I shall defer my e.v- cursion to the Wild Alp until next week, and spend to-morrow in the village. That old castle on the hill deserves a visit ; and when there I can amuse myself re- building the edifice in imagination — it will not be difficult, as they say it was inhabited towards the end of the last century.' ' So ! ' cried Waldemar, gaily, • so you build castles in the air occasionally ? ' 'Rather say continually,' replied Noi'a, laughing ; 'for since I entered the Bavarian highlands every hill has been supplied with a castle, and every dale with a cottage ! ' 'And have you peopled your castles and cottages?' asked Waldemar. ' N — 0,' answered Nora, and a sudden melancholy over- spread her features, for the light question had brought strongly to her recollection her depressingly isolated posi- tion. Of the few near relations left her, was there one she could ask to live in a German cot or castle with her? Her uncle's treasure was in London, and with it his heart; Georgiua would call such a residence being buried alive ; Jack was a mere boy, full of youthful frolic, with a decided inclination to enjoy the world and its pleasures to the utmost ; his brother Samuel she scarcely knew, and friends she had none ! Yes — one — Irene Schaumberg ; but what changes might not a ten years' separation have produced in her regard ! These thoughts had but Hashed through her mind, however, when Waldemar, surprised by her seriousness, said, with a mixture of curiosity and interest, ' Not peopled ? not swarming with English friends and relations ? ' Nora shook her head. ' So much the better,' he said, reseating himself on ths wooden bench beside her, and nodding a laughing defiance to Torp, — ' so much the better ; there will be the more XVATS AND MEANS. 2G7 room for Bavariuus and Tyroleans ! You really must allow me, Mees Nora, to accuinpaiiy you to this ruin to- morrow ; 1 kuow something of architecture, and we can build and plan together in the most satisfactory manner imaginalile. Now don't refuse, or 1 shall think it time to be olTended." ' I cannot well refuse,* answered Nora, smiling, ' seeing that the ruins of Waltcuburg are quite as much at your service as mine.' ' And you will permit me to go there with you, or,* — he added, correcting himself, — ' to be there at the same time that you are ?' * Of course,' said Nora, as she rose from her lowly seat. * Until the Cixstle is mine, I cannot raise the drawbridge, and refuse you entrance.' When passing Torp, who stood in the doorway, she perceived her pocket-book in his hand. * This is yours,' ho said, coldly handing it to her ; ' I found it on the floor in ilie room below stairs.' ' It is mine — thank you,' said Nora ; and a so unwonted colour spread over her face as she received it, that Waldemar's attention was instantly attracted. * I wish,' he said. * that I had found your book ; it evi- dently contains secrets, and you fear that Torp, in looking for the owner's name inside, may have discovered ' * I have no fears of the kind,' said Nora, interrupting him. ' Nothing. I am sure, would have induced Mr. Torp to open this book or read a line of its contents. If he had not known it to be mine, he would have left it in the parlour.' Torp seemed to consider even a word of assurance un- necessary. ' You do not deny that there are secrets in it, Mees Nora.' persisted Waldemar, 'and I would give much to possess it. See, here are my sketches of Ammergau ; you have more than once said you wished to possess them. Let ns make an exchange — they are yours for the note- book : ' Nora thought over the contents of her little green book, and then droj'ped it into her pocket. Secrets such as "Waldemar perhaps expected to find in it there were none yOS UAYS AND ML:aNS. Slie Imd got tlie habit, during her solitary hours in liussell-square, of taking notes when reading, of writing lists of books, short critiques of those just read, and other matters of an equally unimportant description. A box full of such small volumes had been left in Mrs. Duck'er's care in England, and any of them, or many of them, she would, without hesitation, have given for the tempting sketches now ofTered her ; but the little gi'een book irt question unfortunately contained in its side pocket the letter that Charles Thorpe had written to her uncle ten years previously, and a few memoranda, which, if shown to Torp by Waldemar, would inevitably lead to explanations that she by no means desired. ' I am sorry I cannot make the exchange you propose,' she said, turning away ; ' 1 wish these sketches had some other price.' ' Stay,' cried AValdemar, springing after her to the head of the staircase, 'listen to me, Mees Nora — the sketches hare another price ; they shall be yours for — for — a cup of colfee made by you yourself for me — any day you please ou any of the alps about here.' ' A cup of coffee ! ' repeated Nora, incredulously. ' You shall have a dozen, if you desire it.' ' I shall remind 3'ou of this agreement,' said Waldemar. ' You need not,' she answered, laughing ; ' I shall take care not to let you forget it.' Waldemar could scarcely wait until she was out of hearing before he exclaimed, ' You see, Torp, I shall wii> the wager.' ' Perhaps you may,' he answered, dryly ; ' that you will make a fool of yourself is, however, even more certain, and I greatly fear that your father will think that I led you into temptation.' 'Pshaw!' cried Waldemar, impatiently. 'I acknow- ledge that I am considerably epris with this black-eyed nymph of the Thames ; but 1 could go to Herrenburg to- morrow, and in a week — or — let us say a fortnight, I could forget her — yes, [ think I could forget her in a fortnight or three weeks.' ' Then go,' said Torp, earnestly, ' gp while the effort is easily made, and you will spare yourself and your family a WAYS AND MEANS. 209 TTorld of annoyance. I have made the inquiries about tlieso Nixons that you desired, and heard to-day, from a friend of mine who knows everybody in London, that this man has undoubtedly a large fortune, but also a large family ; there are sons in Australia and elsewhere, one a lawyer in London, and the interesting youth now here, called Jack. The eldest daughter is well known in town from being constantly with tiie Savage "NVaywards, the younger my friend cannot well remember — he believes she "has resided chifily in the country ; some people supposed her consumptive, others said she was eccentric, and many now assert she is dead. We know that slie is neither dead nor consumptive, but I think the word eccentric may be used when describing her. At all events, according to the letter, the young ladies may " be worth " about twenty thousand pounds a-piece.' ' It is the connection and not the fortune I wanted to bear about,' said Waldemar, with a look of annoyance. ' My informant,' continued Torp, ' could not give me much more information on that subject than I gave you at Aramergau. The founder of the family, according to the legend, was a peasant boy, who wandered to London in the Whittington fashion, and afterwards made a fortune in trade. This is an old story, and a convenient one for finding arms when they become necessary; whether true or not is of little importance, for though love might manage to blind you, your father would certainly put on his spectacles when examining the genealogy of the Nixons, and nothing but the most enormous fortune would induce him to overlook its defects. Perhaps, after saying so much, I ought to add. that one of this family married a relation of ours many years ago.' * Ah I ' said Waldemar, ' such marriages cause no conv motion in an English family ! ' * The lady was a widow, and perfectly at liberty.' answered Torp, 'so though my father greatly disapproved, and indeed opposed the marriage, which turned out even ftorse than he expected, he could not prevent it. I have spoken to little pui-pose. Waldemar, if it has not yet become evident to you that o\.c of this family is no match for a Benndorff of Herrenburg, who has every chance of mo WAYS AND MliANS. succeetling to a principality and becoming a Serene High- ness in tlie course of time.' ' That 's it,' cried Walderaar, ' that chance is what makes my father so hard to please. I hope your suc- cession to an English earldom has served to hamper you in the same way.' ' I have not thought much about the matter as far as concerns myself,' answered Torp, * but my brother gave me much trouble about ten years ago, when 1 was obliged stre- nuously to oppose his making a disagreeable match of this kind. Oddly enough,' he added, 'itwasoneof these ISii.vons, the daughter of that relative of ours of whom I spoke just now, that he took it into his head to marry. The very name of this family is odious to me ever since, for though Medway yielded to my remonstrances in the end, we quarrelled a whole year about the mattei*. Do not expect me, however, to make the same efforts for you, Waldemar ; but I am ready and willing to leave Almenau to-morrow, and share your flight from this nymph of the Thames as you call her.' ' No, Torp, I ask no such sacrifice. You are right: I shall order horses for to-morrow morning, and leave without again seeing IMees Nora. In four-and-twenty hours, my friend, I shall be at Herrenburg, admiring the magnificent dress of Irene, Countess Schaumberg, and making grave inquiries about the education of my unruly little ward Adelheid.' * That 's right ! ' said Torp. ' I should not have thought a retreat so necessary if I had not seen plainly to-day what has happened to Falkner.' ' There is no doubt how that affair will end,' said "Walde- mar, laughing. ' Ernst evidently hopes to persuade the other nymph to follow him into Hungary, and if he succeed, she will not be the first Englishwoman who has married into our regiment, as we call it, from having so many rela- tions among the officers. INIy brother tells me that two of his best friends have English wives, patterns of perfection by all accounts, women who stop at home, and all that sort of thing ; and I suspect it is the recollection of them that has made Falkner think of Mees Nixie. She is not ill- lookincj, however, far from it, but not to be compared to Nora — ni V Nora — our Nora ! I wonder he did not choose Ncra ! * A KCSTIC STUDIO. 271 • I wish he had,' said Torp ; ' or rather. I wish the whole family and their projected tombstone were in some other Bavarian village. After I have hunted on the Wild Alp you mav expect me at Herrenburg, as I shall of course miss you greatly, and find it dull here without you. But go you must, Waldemar, and without delay, for I see plainly that this girl is just the sort of person likely to make you more desperately in love than you have ever yet been, and that is saying a good deal.' "' Ah — ah ! Then you admit that she is charminrj^' ' Sl)e is dangerous,' said Torp ; 'and — a — you will go to the Valley of the Inn to-morrow, old fellow, won't you? ' * I will,' answered Waldemar, heroically. CHAPTER XXIV. A EUSTJC STUDIO. XoRA was in the village at so early an hour the next morning that most of the inhabitants were at church, for it is there the Highland peasant commences both work and holiday, invoking a blessing alike on toil and pleasure. The sound of the w-ell-playcd organ induced her to follow some dilatory labourers into the handsome edifice, which, with its showily decorated altar, was the pride of the parish. She saw her companions doff their battered straw hats, stroke down their hair on their forehe.id, and reverently kneel down, while bright beams of earliest sunshine, finding an entrance through the high narrow windows, passed over their rugged features, and directed her glance to other groups of men and women who, in remote corners or at side altars, forgetful of the presence of those around them, gave an outward ex- pression to their devotion, both in feature and posture, which is said to be a peculiarity of southern nations, but seems common to all votaries of the Roman Catholic religion. The service was soon over, the congregation, not having time to linger in or about the churchyard as on Sundays, dispersed at once, and Nora turned towards the not far distant house of Florian and his mother. It had rather a smarter air than the dwellings around it, had light green jalousies, and no trees in front, perhaps to prevent the *i72 A KUbTIC STLDIU. passers-bv from ovprlookinpf the shop-window at the leftside of tlic entrance, which displayed a collection of heteroge- iieons articles, such as pipes, coarse cutlery, and writing tnaterials, thread and tape of the most glaring colours, to- liacco, twine, lidless boxes full of gigantic brass and steel thimbles, harlequin leather balls, silic kerchiefs, and samples of sugar, coffee, and liquorice. The shop itself was a long narrow room, with a very townlike counter, behind which were shelves reaching to the ceiling, well stored with printed cottons, woollen stuffs, and cloth ; while on the opposite wall, placed conveniently within reach of customers, there were various implements of husbandry, llshingtackle, wooden toys, and a great variety of straw and felt hats. Madame Cramer, a cheerful-looking little woman, dressed in a dark cotton gown by no means unfashionably made, and with partially grey hair neatly and becomingly braided, bent over the counter, and asked Nora in what way she could serve her. Nora requested to see some straw hats, but having, while looking at them, mentioned that she was the bearer of messages from Ammergau, Madame Cramer pushed them aside and began to speak of her relations and of her son, in amusing forgetfulness of her duties as shopkeeper. Nora was soon made aware that in Florian all her hopes and af- fections were centred ; on him all the money she and her husband had saved had been expended ; her greatest sorrow in life had been parting with him, though but for a time. ' For he went to study in Munich,' she said proudly, ' and is an artist, and would have remained there until he had made himself renowned ; but the old man died, and the village wanted a painter, so he came back, though with a heavy heart ; and when we talked over matters together, and iie told me what hundreds and hundreds of painters were in Munich, and how many more years he must study before he could hope to be what he intended, I could not help advising him to retain his fathers privilege of being village painter, which afforded a good and creditable sub- sistence, and proposed spending all the ready money I possessed in building an addition to the house. ^ Well, miss, after some hesitation he consented, and for his sake 1 refused to maliy the baker ; and what with the building A RLSIIC STLDIO. 273 of his own atel*f, as he cnlls bis \Yorl<«:liop. and thft repairs of altars in the cliurches. and the f^ildin^'s, and the carvinps. he was wonderfully contented for some time, but.' sbtj added, with a sigh.' that did not last long, he could not take kindly to the other work ' ' What other work? ' asked Nora. •The house -paintinfT and varnishing.* she answered: 'and I cannot blame him. for it is below him. as I may say. now that he h an artist, and paints so beautifully in the style of Michael Angely ! You 11 step up stairs. I hope, miss, and look at his cartoons? ' * I should like to see them very much,' answered Nora ; * but it is still so early, that I have time enough to look at your printed calicoes, and choose one of these straw hats for my mountain walks, before we disturb hira.' The hat she chose was very coarse, very stiff, and bore a strong resemblance to a flattened extinguisher. She did not. to the great surprise of Madame Cramer, look in the small glass to see whether or not it were becoming ; and when some ril)bon was afterwards produced for her inspec- tion, she merely said, ' Black, if you please.' and began an examination of the cottons and stuffs on the shelves behind the counter. •1 shall require some of these things before long,* she observed, mounting the little ladder that enabled her to take a view of the contents of the upper shelf, ' and then you must tell me the prices.' 'If you would like to have the marks explained,' said Madame Cramer, ' 1 'm sure I have no objection. It will not be necessary to have a second price when dealing with you, but the peasants are so accustomed to haggle and bargain, that they would think themselves cheated if I did not reduce my demand ; so I always ask a kreutzer or two more than I afterwards take, and then they go away satisfied with themselves and with me.' Nora was amused, and some time elapsed imperceptibly while she learned to keep shop. The mystic numbers and letters were made perfectly intelligible to her, and also, in porae degree, the profits and losses of a village trader. She learned that peasants incurred debts quite as readily, and often as thoughtlessly, as people in other ranks of life ; s 274 A RUSTIC STUDIO, snrao but paid an oM account in order to commence a new one ; and her proposal to ^ladame Cramer to insist on roady-money payments in future was answered by a shake of the head, and an assurance tliat all her customers would desert her, and go to one Hans Maier in the neighbouring town, who had injured her enough already by obliging her to keep many articles in her shop that remained long ou hand. Madame Cramer could not leave her shop, and Nora was conducted up stairs by a remarkably plain, red-haired, and very freckled girl, of the name of Vevey. She was the adopted daughter of Madame Cramer ; and Nora, struck by her likeness to some one she had seen occasionally at the inn, asked her if she had any relation there. • The sennerin on the landlord's alp is my sister,' she answered, smiling, ' and you have seen her perhaps every Sunday morning. I shall make her guess who spoke of her when I go to the alp to-morrow.' ' Rather tell me at what hour you leave the village,* said Nora, ' for I should greatly like to go with you.' 'When you please, miss ; it is quite an easy path, and hardly two hours' walk.' •I must choose the latest hour possible,' said Nora, 'as I hope to induce some others to join us who are not very early risers.' Vevey now led the way along a short passage, tapped rather timidly at a door, and having obtained permission to enter, held it open for Nora to pass her, and then closed it, and withdrew so noiselessly, that Florian continued his occupation, totally unconscious of the presence of a stranger. He was a pale, dark-haired, small man, with a perfectly picturesque beard, open shirt collar, and well-daubed linen blouse, and stood before a cast-iron cross intended for the churchyard. Though only painting it black to defend it from rust, his posture was that of an artist before his easel ; and he seemed to encourage the delusion by having hung his pot of black paint on the thumb of his left hand, as if it had been a palette, stopping occasionally to look at the progress of his work, and turning his head from side to side in a manner that greatly amused Nora, until, on a nearer approach, she perceived that there was a small ▲ RUSTIC STUDIO. '275 picture in the centre of the cross, which might be supposed to have caused the pantomime. Nora's visits to artists' studios had been frequent enough in former times to make her acquainted with the ahnost unavoidable litter and disorder usual in such places, but anything like that around her now she had never beheld. Beside the usual casts of legs and arms in plaster of Paris, half- finished pictures, sketches, palettes, brushes, and colours, there were all the more ordinary requisites for house-painting. Window-frames were placed with portraits against the wall to dry, and near them a couple of small coffins of a bright blue colour, such as were usually placed over the graves of children in the churchyard. On shelves round the room there was a large collection of distemper colours in earthenware pots, and numerous filigree arabesque patterns for the decoration of the walls of rooms and ceil- ings, while angels with broken wings, saints with tarnished draperies, and various pieces of curiously-carved wood, still awaited repairs from the skilful hand of the village artist. How long Meistcr Florian might have continued to advance and retire before the black cross, Ivad he not been interrupted by Nora, it is hard to say. He started when she addressed him, made some apology for having sup- posed her Genoveva, and then, for her use, began to dis- incuraber an old brown leather chair of its accumulated lumber. Nora did not wait for the completion of this operation, but began at once to speak of Ammergau and his relations there, the great drama, and the wood-carvers. Florinn's embarrassment was at an end ; he listened at- tentively, and answered eagerly. She spoke of Munich and his studies there, and asked to see some drawings. Willingly he brought his large portfolio, and exhibited a succession of copies in chalks from well known busts and statues ; but they bore testimony to more assiduity than talent. His attempts in oils were of the same description ; and Nora saw that though he might in time, and with per- severance, become perhaps a good copyist, he was no genius struggling with adverse fiite, as she had been somewhat romantically inclined to imagine him. * I wonder you have not tried kindscapep.Tinting.' she observed, after having patiently li-jtcned to his complaints 270 A nusTic STUDIO. about the difTiculty of Rettitifr people to sit for their portraits. ' In such a couiitrv as this you could never be at a loss for studies, and mountains, lakes, and trees must submit to be sketched and painted how and when you please.' ' 1 have not the slifrhtest inclination for landscapes,' he answered; 'my ambition was to paint altar-pieces for churches, but I have never arrived at composing anything. Perhaps 1 have not studied enough, for even in portrait- painting I am often at a loss. The miller's Madeleine was the only person who ever sat as often and as long as I wished ; but she has since said that I made a scarecrow of her, and that I required a whole morning to paint the mole on her throat ; while Count Waldemar, as she expressed it, " had her down in his pocket-book in a quarter of an hour, as like as two peas, and no mole at all ! " ' ' It is difficult to paint female portraits satisfactorily,' observed Nora. ' Women expect to be idealised, and to have their defects either concealed or altogether omitted.' ' That mole ia no defect,' said Florian, ' I think it beautiful.' Nora smiled, and observed that he seemed to have em- ployment enough to put portrait-painting out of his head. ' I cannot complain,' he answered, looking round his room ; ' there is employment enough — such as it is I ' ' They told me at Ammergau,' she added, ' that the renovation of the altars at St. Hubert's had been confided to you, and that is by all accounts a very flattering dis- tinction.' ' True,' said Florian, with heightened colour. ' I get as much work of that kind as I can manage to do ; but you see, mademoiselle, my mother is from Ammergau, and I have a sort of natural talent for wood-carving. These old altars are crowded with figures in alto or basso-relievo, and it is not every one who can supply the lost or broken arms, legs, and even heads, so easily as I can.' ' And,' asked Nora, 'has that never led you to suppose that as wood-carver you might be more successful than as a painter?' 'Yes,' he replied, with a sigh : 'but wood-carving is a common talent, both here and in Tyrol, and no one ever became rich or renowned by itl' A RUSTIC STLDIO. 277 * Fortunately, thousands of people are very Imppy with- out beinj; either,' said Nora, turning from him to examine the old altar, with its folding doors and figures about a foot high in alto-relievo, representing the legend of St. Hubert being converted to Christianity by seeing a crucifi.\ on the head of the stag of which he had long been in pursuit. Tlie interest she e.xpressed in his careful and judicious reparations seemed greatly to gratify Florian, and he hoped, if she intended to visit the chapel of the sainted huntsman, it would be at the time when he also should be there. ' 1 may as well confess that I came here iutenuing to propose some s-uch arrangement,' she answered ; ' but, besides St. Hubert's, I wish to see the \Vild Alp and the Kerbsteiu lake.' ' Seppel will be a better guide to the lake,' said Florian, ' but to St. Hubert's, or any of the alps about here, I can show you the way as well as — as — if I had been out with a ride, and knew where a wildschuetz was likely to find a welcome and breakfast in case of need.' 'And have you never been out in the way you describe?' asked Nora archly, and not much fearing that the suspicion would give oifence. ' No," he answered, ' though I have little doubt that many would think more of me if I had. A man who cannot handle a rille has a hard stand here ; there is no end to the joking and laughing about him ; even the •women cannot spare their jibes, and are always making comparisons, and lauding the foresters to the skies ! 1 have heard it said, tliat in towns the soldiers are made much of by them ; but in" the villages about here the foresters are better oflf still — it is forester here, and forester there, and one never hears of anything else ! ' Nora pretty well understood the drift of this speech, but she betrayed no consciousness, as she acknowledged having herself rather a predilection for foresters ; their dress was so picturesque ; their employments so manly ; and they had all a certain ease of maimer that was irresistibly pleasing.' ' Ease of manner ! ' exclaimed Florian. ' I dare say — and no wonder — they keep good company ! All the noble- men and burcaucratists of the neiglibourhood pay court to 278 A RUSTIC STUDIO. them for an occasional da3''s shooting ; and their wives aro civil to make sure of getting venison. Old General Falkner, who is as proud a man as can well be, makes no guest so welcome at St. Benedict's as the forester ; the captain's first visit, when he comes home on leave of absence, is to the Forest-house; and even Count "Waldemar himself, who speaks to me whenever and wherever we meet, has not a word if the forester be present, or his assistant only drop a hint about having seen a chamois or roe on the mountains.' ' Did you never think of becoming a forester yourself?' asked Nora, wishing to turn his thoughts from his jealous grievances, for such she knew them to be. ' I had not health or strength for it,' he answered ; * but even had it been otherwise, my whole thoughts were bent on being a painter. As soon as I was free from the day-school, I began to carry my father's paints ; when I left off attending the Sunday-school, I learned his trade, thinking, in my ignorance, that it was a good foundation for my future career ; and I ended by going to Munich, with ideas so contracted, that I supposed technical skill all that was necessary to make me a celebrated artist I ' ' A very natural mistake on your part,' observed Nora, ' when one takes into consideration the trade you had learned from your father.' ' Perhaps so ; but coming into a knowledge of one's ignorance is not agreeable, mademoiselle. It seemed as if the more T learned the less I knew.' ' That is the case with most people,' said Nora, ' and is by no means confined to artists and their studies.' 'I got into despair at last,' continued Florian ; 'tried portrait-painting, but soon discovered that the photo- graphers were competitors with whom only first-rate artists could contend ; so, when my father died, I returned home and established myself as his successor. My mother and Genoveva were made happy, they say, but I'm sure I don't know why, for I give them both a great deal of trouble, and am often ungrateful for their attentions. Vevey especially has had a hard life lately ; but my mother is kind to her, and in return slie has patience with me.' Nora, who had long been standing beside the half-open A RLSfIC STUDIO. 279 door, now took leave. He accompanied ber down the stairs, promising, as he opened the door of the shop, to let her know when he had completed the renovation of the altar for St. Huberts. Great was Nora's surprise to find her cousin John in ea^er discussion with ^laJiuue Cramer about the purchase of some very coarse, dark-green cloth, to make what he called a ' ruin mantle,' ' A famous thing,' as he immedi- ately explaiited to her. • worn by all the men employed in felling wood on the mountains.' To judge by the pattern, it was a very formless garment, with merely au opc.ing in the centre for the head ; nevertheless, some seams it must have had, for it was to he sent to the tailor, and the measure of John's shoulders was carefully taken by Madame Cramer. ' I thought you had all sorts of waterproof jackets and caps ? ' observed Nora. • Well, so I have, but I prefer being dressed like other people. There is no use in making one's self remarkable, you know ; and I may be in places where being known by my coat might prove troublesome.' ' Am I to understand. Jack,' said Nora, ' that you have found some one to go out deer-stalking with you '? ' ' Deer-stalking or chamois-hunting, as the case may be,' he answered, seating himself on the counter ; and in the full security of not being understood by any one but his cousin, continuing, ' 1 have been thinking, Nora, that I must begin to limit my confessions to you ; and, indeed, for your own sake, you had better ask me no questions in future about where I am going, or what I intend to do. You see, dear girl, if you know too much, you may in the end be obliged to bear witness against me, and you wouldn't like to do that, I am sure I ' • 1 thought,' said Nora, reproachfully, ' I thought you would have waited a week or ten days longer, until Mr. Torp had left the village.* ' He has no intention of leaving,' said John. ' I heard him say that the scarcity of game enhanced its value ; and that he believed an Englishman liked wandering throuj^h a picturesque country just as well as a German, though he might talk less about it. He seems to enjoy himself here, 2bO A liUSTIC STUD'O. this Mr. Torp, and likes wearinGj liis twerd jacket and wide-awake — and hunting and fishing, and plaving skittles, and pretending not to see us, and all the rest of it; and I tell you, Nora, he has no more idea of leaving' the village than we have. The foresters son is going out to-morrow to look after some chamois that were seen above the Wild Alp ; and the day after. Torp and Waldemar are to hunt there. Now they all know 1 wish to join them, but not one can invite me, because that fellow Torp won't allow them.' ' You have not yet tried Captain Falkner.' 'Yes, 1 have,' answered John. ' He is evidently flirting with Georgy, so I asked him yesterday, point-blank, to let ir.e shoot on his ground — and what do you think he said? His father had given up hunting; he himself was only oc- casionally at home on leave of absence, and that they had now let their chase to the forester : he had only reserved a right for himself, and was obliged to purchase his owii game when his mother wished for it I I saw he was sorry he could not oblige me — more, of course, on Georgy's account than mine ; and he even proposed speaking to the forester ; but as I did not choose him to know that, at Torps instigation, I had already been refused in that quarter, I requested him to say nothing about the matter, for that I could amuse myself walking about on the mountains, and making excursions into Tyrol.' ' I wish you would, for the present, be satisfied with doing so,' said Nora, earnestly. '1 am much more likely to have a shot at the chamois, near the Wild Alp, before any of them,' cried John, exult- in gly. ' Then I may not hope that you will go with me to our landlord's alp to-morrow ? ' John shook his head, and turning to I\Iadame Cramer, requested, in broken but very intelligible German, that his woodman's mantle might be made in the course of the next few hours, as he should probably want it that very evening. Nora left the shop with him, and walked towards the inn without asking another question, or attempting remoii- strances that she knew would be useless. 281 CHAPTER XXV. TREATS OF MARRIAGE AND OTHER MATTEr.8. Nora found her uncle and Geor{i;ina still sitting at the breakfast mble. and was at first somewhat provoked at the little inclination shown to join her alp party. Now, though she did not. perhaps, very particularly desire their company, the appearance of separating herself so completely from them as of late was not quite in accordance with her ideas of propriety, so she combated with some pertinacity all Georgina's objections. ' Change of weather to be e.xpected I ' she repeated ; ' not in the least probable for some days. The wind blows out of the mountains in the morning, and into them during llie day, in the most satisfactory manner.' ' But I have heard.' said Georgina, ' that the alps about here lie very high, and the e.xcursions to them are, in con- sequence, exceedingly fatiguing.' • We are not going tr> a high alp ; the cattle have already left most of them. The one 1 mean is quite easy of ascent.' ' 1 dare say. however,' rejoined Georgina, ' that there are places without a path, and rocks to be scrambled over, and springs and rivulets in all directions, to wet one's feet.' Nora could not deny the probability of such impediments being in the way, but suggested that strong boots would make the path of little importance, especially after a con- tinuance of tine weather, such as they had lately had. ' They say,' persisted Georgina, ' that one generally arrives at such places ravenously hungry ; and there is nothing to eat but dreadfully greasy messes, such as the ]ioasanis here delight in — and they might disagree with pupa, you know ! ' ' J shall take care that no such messes be set before him,* eaid Nora, goodhumouredly. ' I 'm afraid of nothing but the too warm weather,' ob- Berved Mr. Ni.xon. ' And I,' said Georgina, 'am much more afraid of — of — ' ' Of what?" • Of the dirt and smoke,' she replied, with a slight grimac« 282 TREATS OF MARRIAGE ' But we are not going to sleep there, and I am quite sure that where I propose going everything will be perfectly clean.' ' John has had experience, Nora, and he assures me ' ' Most probably,' said Nora, interrupting her, ' John did not want to have you with him. He does not wish for my company eitlier, but found other means to prevent me from joining him.' ' That may be the case, rejoined Georgina, thought full 3% * for when I first came here I really intended to make some excursions ; but he told me at once that they were not the sort of thing I should like, and that a In short, my feet were better fitted for parquet floors than mountain paths.' ' I think,' said Mr. Nixon, with a smile and a sly \vink at Nora, ' I think that was said by the captain at St. Bene- dict's, as we were getting out of the boat, Georgy.' ' Well, perhaps it was,' she answered, her colour a good deal deeper than usual ; ' he, too, rather dissuaded me from undertaking any expeditions of the kind, and he has a sister ' ' Who,' said Nora, ' has most probably been on every mountain in the neighbourhood.' ' Yes ; but made herself quite ill last year by attempting to follow a Countess Schaumberg from Vienna, who, he tells me, can use a rifle and hunt as well as the keenest sports- man, and from his account must be a specimen of a German masculine woman. In England, when we become manly, we turn completely to the stable, talk of horses, and delight in slang; this countess does not ride, or even drive a pony carriage, but she has a choice collection of fire-arms, and takes her chasseur and dogs wherever she goes.' ' When is she expected here?' asked Nora. ' In about a fortnight or three weeks. She comes here for the marriage of Captain Falkner's sister, who has long been engaged to Count Carl Beundorff of Herreuburg Achenanger Drachenthal.' ' How well 3'ou pronounce these hard words,' said Nora, laughing ; ' one would think you had been taking lessons in German.' ' W^ell, so she has,' said her father, with a significant grimace ; ' she is reading a book of poetry with the captain, AXD OTHEn MATTEL. 283 and seoms to get on famously ; but she can't understand other people's German, or talk a word to the little boy who catches minnows for me when I want bait.' • Perhaps.' said Nora, demurely, ' my proposed alp party might have interfered with the German lessons'?' ' Not far wrong, Nora,' cried Mr. Ni.\on, with a loud laugh. ' Come, Georgy, tell the truth and shame the devil. If Nora had said the day a/ler to morrow you would have made less difficulties — a certaiu person will be out hunting then, you know.' Georgina's colour again deepened as she said that she had not thought of Captain Falkner when objecting to the alp party. ' Well.' said Mr. Nixon, nudging Nora as she sat beside him, ' well, I'm not ashamed to say that if you will put off your excursion until the day after to-morrow we shall be happy to .i-oin you, eh, Georgy? To-morrow, you see, the captain might expect us to — no matter what — we couldn't disappoint him, you know — on no account — he might be unhappy or offended, for the captain is very fond of us, ho is I and I, for my part, shouldn't mind confessing to you, if Georgy was out of the way, that I 'm uncommon taken with him. He doesn't sit at my end of the boat, and has lately begun to ride on the bench, almost, indeed, turning his back to me ; but it 's all for the purpose of teaching Georgy German — she has told me so a hundred times, and I must believe her — he has not a thought beyond that book of songs ' * Sonnets,' said Georgina, joining half unwittingly in Nora's merry laugh. When Mr. Nixon left them together a short time after- wards, some minutes elapsed before either of them spoke a word. At length Georgina, while playing diligently with her lace-sleeves and bracelets, observed, ' M. Waldeniar improves on acquaintance, Nora ; we begin to think him very gentlemanlike.' * I never tliought him otherwise,' said Nora ; ' he is very unaffected, agreeable, and gay, and forms a most pleasing contrast to our cold proud countryman, ^Ir. Torp.' ' Who certainly dues give him^elf wonderful airs for a Mr. Torp I ' said Georgina, scornfully. ' 1 am rather glad 3S4 TllEATS OK MAIiUIAGE he avoids our acquaintance, though I am inclined to think lie is not quite so insigniOeaut a person as I at first sup- posed ; he is not vulgar or pompous, and his insufferable arrogance 1 now begin to think may proceed from his having a large fortune, and considering himself an oljjectof speculation to designing young ladies. Nesbitt tells rae he has a servant who dresses as well or rather better than his master, and walks about all day amusing himself; it seems, too. he imitates Mr. Torp in manners as well as dress, declines all the civil advances of Monsieur Adam and Mrs. Nesbitt, and was so seldom heard to speak that for a long time people could not find out whether he were German, English, or French ! ' * I sui)pose, however,' said Nora, ' the interesting discovery has been made at last?' ' Nesbitt says that Adam's abuse of a Russian family with whom he had travelled last year, roused him in so nnusual a manner that little doubt now remains of his being a Russian.' ' Did you really feel any curiosity on this subject, Georgina'?' asked Nora, surprised. ' Only inasmuch as it proves that this Mr. Torp has probably travelled about a good deal.' ' Oh, if you care to know.' said Nora, 'M. Waldemar told me that his friend had been for the last ten years almost constantly on the continent.' ' I should rather like to know something about him and his family,' said Georgina. ' Why ? ' asked Nora. ' Because one naturally feels curious about a person with whom one has spent some weeks under the same roof in a small village like this. Captain Falkner has seen him very seldom, I believe, and calls him generally " my iiiend's friend," as if to prove that he knows nothing about him.' ' I cannot say that I feel the slightest interest or curiosity concerning him,' observed Nora, carelessly. ' Perhaps you will not say so when I tell you that M. Waldemar is not, as I supposed, an artist by profession ; he is the eldest son of a Count Benndorff. a Tyrolean nobleman of very old family.' She paused, as if exr AND OTHEK MATfERS. 2^5 pecting some demonstration of surprise on the part of Nora. * Well,' said the latter, smiling. ' do you not remember my telling you not to judge of people by their coats or shoes in the mountains here ? I said it was even possible he might be a prince in disguise !' * I do recollect your saying something to that purport,' said Georgina; 'and it is odd enough that he will probably be a prince in the course of time. Papa says these foreign titles are perfectly worthless : and Mrs. Savage Wayward told me, before I left England, that I should tind princes, counts, and barons like mushrooms in Germany. They don't seem quite so plenty, after all, which is curious when one considers that all the children inherit the parental title.' ' Captain Falkner's instructions,' observed Nora, ' have apparently not been contined altogether to the song-book, as my uncle calls it.' ' No,' answered Georgina, ' he speaks good English and excellent French, so we have discussed a variety of subjects.' 'Such as. for instance ' said Nora, and then she paused, with a look of interrogation. * Whether I could make up my mind to remain in Germany — " for good," as papa says when he means for ever.' * And do you feel disposed to resign the pomps and vanities of the London world, and retire to the cloisters of St. Benedict's '.' ' * Unfortunately that is only a happiness in prospective.' answered Georgina, ' for Captain Falkner cannot or will not give up his profession as long as there is what he calls a chance of war.' ' And you like him well enough to follow his regiment, and submit to the discomforts of country quarters in Hungary, Transylvania, or elsewhere?' •I requested twenty-four hours for consideration,' replied Georgina, gravely. "'After being so often, and, as you know, so recently deceived in my expectations, 1 resolved to attach no importance to Captain Falkners attentions, and was therefore completely taken by surprise yesterday 2S0 TREATS OF MAnRIAGE evening. If you harl not come here this morning, I should have gone to you for advice, knowing no one more com- petent to give it.' ' Had you so spoken ten years ago,* said Nora, • I should have discussed this matter in a manner that would have convinced you I was worthy of the confidence placed in my wisdom ; for my mother having herself made two love matches, and neither proving particularly happy, educated me in an almost overstrained rational manner, making me not at all disposed to fall in love myself, or fancy others in love with me. At the age of si.xteen or seventeen I might have heen reasoned or have reasoned myself into almost any proposed manage de convenance, while now, strange to say, at sixand-twenty, I feel myself growing seriously sentimental and romantic, and consider love the chief desideratum.' ' I think I may take it for granted that Captain Falkner likes me,' said Georgina, smiling, 'and I like him, not perhaps quite as well as — one who never really cared for me. But I am tired of struggling in the world of fashion, and am no longer young, have no wish to end my life as the unmarried one of the family; and my chances are few at home, Nora, for the increase of the female popula- tion in England is monstrous they say. So all things con- sidered ' ' All things considered,* said Nora, laughing, • you have made up your mind to marry, and only ask advice in the hope of being contirmed in your resolution. Now I begin to think that I can scarcely venture to give an opinion on this occasion, having scarcely seen Captain Falkner half a dozen times. In fact, were he to burst upon my dazzled sight in the full glory of his Austrian uniform at this moment, I should positively not know him. Don't you think, instead of the grey jacket and straw hat, you could persuade him to dress himself in all his accoutrements for our gratification, when he comes this evening formally to demand your hand of my uncle ? Dress docs make such a difference, as Bob Acres says.' ' Nora, you are laughing at me,' cried Georgina, a good deal discomposed. *I ought rather to envy jou,' replied Nora, seriously. IKD OTHER MATTEnS. 2S7 *fnr vou have evidently painerl tlie nffection of an lionour- alile man, who, witliout knowing anything of your family or fortune, tells you he loves you, and asks you in mar- riage. I have never had the happiness of being loved in this manner, Georgina; but so highly have I learned to value a perfectly disinterested attachment, that I would willingly give all I possess to be able to inspire any one with such an afTection for me. Of this, however, there is now no chance, so I must take the place you decline, and become the " unmarried one " of our family.' 'Then,* said Georgina, smiling cheerfully, * then >ou do not think I am about to do a foolish thing, Nora?' ' Certainly not,' answered Nora, moving towards the door, • that is, if you are quite sure that you love him.' On descending to the road before the inn she perceived a number of children just released from school, dispersing homewards ; the boys whooped, whistled, shoved and cuffed each other, playing at ball with their caps, hats, and books, as boys will do to the end of time most probably. A mad- cap girl occasionally attempted to join in the rough, sport, but as often retreated, hurt or frightened, to more quiet companions. She was scarcely well received by the groups of little girls, who, with arms entwined, were confidentially wlnspcring to each other their little secrets, or perhaps animadverting severely on her unruly conduct. Two very youthful maidens lingered among the feeding-troughs for liorses, ranged along the wall of the inn, and Nora per- ceived at once that they were imitating their mothers, and enjoying a little gossip. ' It was when I was going to school this very morning that I heard her,' said one little chatterbox to the other : * " Adieu, Count AValdcmar," says she, " and a pleasant journey home," says she ' ' Well, to be sure, the courcge that .she has I' interposed the other. ' As mother says, the boldness of that girl ia not to be believed.* 'And,' continued the first, "*A pleasant journey home," savs she, " Count Waldemar," and runs away, and he after her, and laughs and lifts her up ever so high and shakes her.' ' I 'm glad of it,' said number two ; ' many a shake she gets from her mother, and well she deserves them.' 288 TREATS OF MARRIAGE * She didn't mind the shake a bit,' said the first speaker, * for the count told the landlady to give her the biggest piece of cake in the house, and she came running after nie with a lump of kugelhopf full of currants and covered with almonds, and she as proud as a peacock.' * Well,* said number two. ' 1 couldn't think where she got that cake ; it was very good, and she gave nie a piece of it, and Catty, and Lina, and * ' She did not dare to offer me any,' said the first speaker, with proud propriety. ' J had seen her portness, and ta.vcd lier with it. To speak to the count, and he getting into the carriage, and the strange gentleman from England, and all the people of the inn, and the postilion from the town standing by ! ' Here Nora, not altogether uninterested in their dis- course, moved towards the speakers : but after a hurried frightened courtesy they both scampered off, and she turned to the little romp, who, having been thrown down in a con- cluding scuffle, was now rubbing the dust and gravel from her pink petticoat and black bodice, while a red-haired boy, riding on one of the feeding-troughs, alone remained to pity or enjoy her discomfiture. She looked up as Nora approached, and showed a pretty, round, sunburnt face, that no doubt had attracted the artist eye of Count Walde- niar, and made him acquainted with her. She was not at all shy, and laughed as Nora shook some gravel from her thick curly hair, and asked who had thrown her down. ' Red Hans,* said the little girl, pointing to the grinning, freckled-faced boy, who was moving about on the trough in a reckless manner, making movements with his long dangling, bare legs, as if spurring a horse. ' And who is Red Hans?' * He belongs to the widow at Waltenburg.' 'And you ?' 'I'm the hammersmith's Nanerl. Come, Hans, let's go home to dinner.' The boy instantly descended from liis imaginary horse and came towards her. ' Nanerl won't tell,' he said, glancing towards Nora. ' She knows 1 'd get no dinner from the hammersmith if she made a complaint.' ' Why don't you go home to dinner ? ' asked Nora AND OTHER MATTERS. 889 * 'Cause mother 's so poor, and the hammersmith said I could liave a bit wiili Naiierl every day.' ' I 'm afraid you 're a very iiau,t;hty hoy,' said Nora : 'you ought to t'lke care of her iustead of throwing her down, as you did just now.' Hans looked embarrassed. ' He 's a scamp,' said the little girl, promptly. * Father eays so, and mother too ; but I. like him, and we play at wildscliuetz together.' ' And you are the sennerin on the alp, and take care of the cows?' * No. I 'm a wildschuetz too,' she answered. ' Come along, Hans, I won't tell ; come along.' Glad to escape, he seized her hand and pulled her after him as he rushed down the road into the midst of the village. Xora looked after them and smiled. * Now that girl is regularly "doing the poor,"' muttered Torp to himself, as he peered from behind one of the old chestnut trees in the garden, beneath which he had breakf;i.sted. 'I suppose,' he continued, in soliloquy, 'she is waiting for Walderaar. e.xpecling him to go to the ruins with her. " Mees Xora," you may wait long ; by this time 1 should think your adorer must be in Tyrol.' Had Waldemar been beside him, Torp would have tunied away his head, to prove his total indifference to the presence of so insignificant a personage as a Miss Nora Ni.xon, whereas he now thought proper to indulge his curiosity without reserve, and for the first time took a long and steady stare at the unconscious Nora, as she stood on the road between the garden and the inn. Dressed, as usual, in a check black and grey silk, he thought her figure as graceful as any he had seen for a long time ; and even beneath the hideous coarse straw hat the delicate little face appeared to such advantage that he magnanimously rejoiced in the absence of his friend, and applauded himself for his disinterested conduct. Just as Nora was about to walk away, she perceived the forester's son, Franz, coming towards the village ; he hastened his steps, and advanced so directly towards her, that she first stop[tcd, and then moved a few steps to meet him. o 200 ir.EATS OF MAlir.IAGE 'Oh, ho! what is the meaning of all tliis?" thought Torp, as the 3'oiiiig man, raising his hat, exliibitcd a pale, agitated face, and began to speak with an ciigeniess and velie- iiienceof action very different from his usual tranquil manner. Nora's cheerful smile faded away, and a look of deep interest spread over her features as she listened, and began to walk slowly along the road with him. 'Madeleine said you were at the mill, mademoiselle,* observed Franz, ' and that you can bear witness that she told black Sepp she did not care for him, and would not marry him/ '1 remember hearing her say so,' replied Nora. *He reminded her,' continued Franz, 'of some promise that she had made years ago.' Nora nodded assent. ' But,* he added, ' that is of no importance, for she must have been then almost a child ; and she confesses having made promises of the same kind to half-a-dozeu others before she was sixteen.' Nora looked grave, but did not speak. ' She would have braved him if she had dared,' he continued ; ' but her father, she says, has entered into solemn engagements with the Tyrolean, who contrived to make himself useful and necessary when the family were poor and in debt. It seems he not only served without, receiving wages, but even assisted them in various ways, all, as it now appears, on condition that Madeleine was to be his wife.' • It is incomprehensible to me,' deserved Nora, ' why the miller permitted an engagement with you under such circumstances.' ' I cannot say he was exactly willing,' said Franz ; ' it was my father who urged it at Ammergau, on account of the fortune perhaps — and other friends helped, and laughed at the idea of the miller consulting his workman about the marriage of his daughter ! I only thought of Madeleine's beauty, and the triumph of carrying her off from all the others, and so it was settled an hour after vye came together.' ' Has Madeleine broken off her er,^i;^ement with you altogether?' asked Nora. AND OTHER MATTERS. 291 • She said she must, for that her father, at black Sepp's in«;tii»ation, had withdrawn his consent, and until hin deatli she would have no fortune : I have none eitlier, and must wait lonj^ to become forstwart.' •You seemed just now,' said Nora, after a pause, 'to think I could be of use to you. I cannot, however, im:i(^ine in what way.' ' Madeleine tliouc;ht if you called on the priest, and got him to speak to her father and black Seppel, it might do good; they have both a great respect for his reve- rence.' ' Could not her mother explain the state of the case better?' suggested Nora. ' Madeleine tells me her mother takes part with the miller, and is now moi-e disposed towards the Tyrolean than me.' ' That is not improbable,' said Xora, musingly : 'and if you really think that my interference can be of use to you, I will go at once to the priest.' ' Thank you, mademoiselle, your are very kind. His reverence is at home now, I am sure, and either in the garden or looking after his bees. 1 should not have given you this trouble, if Madeleine had not expressly for- bidden any interference on my part, which, she said, would do no good, and only serve to irritate her father. She hoped that you, who had been so kind to Rosel, would not refuse to help her, and it seems she was not mistaken.' 'Will you wait here to be made acquainted with the result of the conference?' asked Nora. ' I cannot,' he answered, ' for Count Waldemar sent express for me this morning, to tell me that he was going home, and must trust altogether to me to find sport for his fiiend from England, as the captain of St. Benedict's had said ho had no time at present to call on the gentle- man, or go out hunting with him ; so I must now look after some chamois, said to be in the neighbourhood of the Wild Alp. and 1 'm glad of the walk, or anything that takes me from the village just now.* He opened the wicket of the priest's garden, bowed low as she passed him, and stood looking after her, when she £92 TREATS OF MARRIAGE entered the open door of the liouse, and commenced a con- versation with the old housekeeper, who had advanced to meet her. Unperceived hy hoth, Torp sauntered along the road, liis hands thrust into the poc-kets of his shooting jacket, Ills eves fixed on the sunny summit of the mountain that rose high above the shingled roof of the parsonage. Light, and airy, and clean, like all the priests' houses Nora had ever seen in Germany, was this one also. It seemed as if everything had been just freshly scoured ; and when the door of the reception-room was opened, she found herself in precisely the sort of apartment she had expected. Two side and three front windows were furnished with very white thin muslin curtains carefully draped aside ; there were six chairs, a round table, a sofa, and two chests of drawers in the room ; on one of the latter, a well-carved crucifix, on the other a pair of silver candlesticks. She had scarcely time to look round her, when the door of an adjoining room was opened, and a middle-aged, intelligent, and rather solemn-looking man advanced towards her; his coat was very long, his cravat very stiflf, his high forehead rendered higher by incipient baldness, and his carefully-shaved cheeks and chin re- markably blue-coloured. He approached Nora with a succession of slight, shy bows ; and as he stopped before her, and placed his right hand slowly in the bosom of his coat, the peculiar priestly movement betrayed to her at once his embarrassment, and removed hers. Accepting the offered chair, she informed him of as much of the miller's story as she felt herself at liberty to relate, and he listened to her throughout with the most undeviating attention, observing, when she paused for an answer, that ' He was not surprised, but sorry for what had occurred, on account of the forester's family ; he should scarcely feel justified in speaking to the miller in the manner she desired; and had little hope of influencing the Tyrolean, who was in the liabit of avoiding the church in Almenau, by crossing the mountains to visit his family, almost every Sunday and liolyday ; the man was violent and resolute, and not likely to listen to expostulations from any one.' AN. OTIlEn MATTERS. 293 • I regret to hear this,' said Nora, ' for he seems to have the niiller completely in his power.' A momentary flash of intelligence gleamed in the priest's eyes, but passed as quickly as lightning ; and it was with eyes fixed on the ground that he observed, * The miller is a weak — a very weak man, mademoiselle, and has unfortunately left his affairs completely to the super- intendence of his chief workman during the last six years, and has become dependent on him : he was very poor when I came to reside here, but has since inherited a good deal of money from a brother, and his daughter as village heiress has been latterly the prize for which all the neighbouring peasants have been contending. She has been the subject of more quarrels, and the cause of more brawls, than she is worth ; and knowing her to be an idle, pleasure-loving girl, you must excuse my saying that a separation from her would be the greatest piece of good fortuue that could happen to the young assistant forester.' * Unfortunately he does not think so,' said Nora, 'and he and :Madeleine now place their whole reliance on you.' ' I shall speak to him this evening, and 1 hope to some purpose,' he answered, dryly. • You will not find him at home, as he is going to the Wild Alp," rejoined Nora : ' and if what I have said has led vou to furm the design of dissuading him from a renewal of his engagement, I have indeed proved but a sorry advocate, and had better cease to plead.' ' Mademoiselle.' said the priest, politely, ' no better ad- vocate could have been chosen on this occasion ; I have heard of your generosity to Rosel, and can assure you it is not misplaced; she is, and always has been a good girl; her brother also is worthy of regard, and you cannot be more interested in his welfare than I am. i have hitherto avoided all interference in the marriages of my paiishioners: they are generally rational contracts made by the parents, in which the parlies most concerned are so little consulted, that the refusal to bestow a cow or calf has not unfrequently broken off a match in every respect desirable. Now 1 have little doubt that interested motives induced the forester to propose his son to the miller for his daughter.' 294 TREATS OF MAUKIAGE * I understood,' said Nora, ' that Franz and Madeleine had lons^ Leon attached to each other.' ' Madeleine's attachments,' said the priest, with a con- temptuous smile, ' have been very numerous. Franz has not lived at home for many years; and though I think it more than probable that he admires Madeleine, who is con- Bidered very handsome. I suspect she accepted liim for tlie purpose of becoming, in the course of time, a foresters or perhaps even a forstmeister's wife, and being able to wear a bonnet.' ' Wear a bonnet ! ' repeated Nora, ' could she not wear one now if she pleased?' ' No, mademoiselle, a peasant's daughter does not wear a bonnet in this country ; but what I meant to e.Kpress was, that Madeleine's ambition was to become a lady.' ' Oh,' said Nora, ' I understand you now.' ' Yet I was not speaking in the least metaphorically,' continued the priest ; ' Franz has been to the forester academy, will receive a place under government, and, as his wife, there is nothing to prevent Madeleine from sub- stituting a bonnet for the peasant hat, or still simpler black kerchief so universally worn here. The silver-laced bodice, short skirt, and apron will be thrown aside, and replaced by a modish gown, and the ignorant, vain girl will fancy the metamorphosis complete.' ' She will look uncommonly pretty in any dress,' said Nora. ' I have seldom seen more perfect features.' ' Mademoiselle,' said the priest, almost reproachfully, 'you attach too much importance to beauty. 1 could prove to you that the plainest girl in this village is by many de- grees the cleverest and most amiable ! ' ' Oh, pray tell me all about her,' cried Nora, eagerly ; * you can in no way oblige me more than by giving me information concerning the people here.' ' If that be the case,' said tlie priest, ' perliaps you will go to the school-house with me, and look over the judgment- books.' The school-house was not far distant — an unpretending building, in no way differing from the others in the village, excepting that the whole of the ground floor was required for the large school-room, which was amply lighted by side AMD OTiI£B MATTERS. Q95 find front windows, and furnished with long rows of benches Riid de>ks, suited to the different ages of the pupils, and increasing progressively iu height as they receded towards the door. A broad space iu the middle of the room served to separate the boys from the girls, and afforded the school- master a place, •which he constantly perambulated, to the uo small terror of idle or mischievous children. As Nora and the priest advanced into the school-room, Torp's head might have been seen at one of the open win- dows, thrust through the clustering leaves of a vine trained against the wall of the house. There was a mixture of curiosity and irony in the expression of his face as he listened to Nora's questions, and saw her poring over the large blue hooks so willingly presented to her for inspection by the schoolmaster. It is probable she asked questions he had no objection to hear answered, as he remained at the window, and even stretched forward once or twice, as if he also wished to seethe contents of the judgment- books. When Nora took leave, followed to the door by both her companions, she found Plosel waiting for her near the church, and they soon after entered the footpath iu the wood that led to the ruins of Waltenburg. At some distance before her Nora soon perceived Torp. Why he just then chose to go where, from her conversation with Waldemar on the previous evening, he knew he was likely to meet her, she could not well imagine. It never occurred to her that, unconscious of the information she had obtained of Waldemar 's departure, both from the tchool-children and Franz, he felt a mischievous pleasure in she expectation of seeing her sitting on some fragment of the ruin, confidently expecting the arrival of his friend I Yet it must be confessed that tliis idea had for some minutes served to amuse Torp when he first turned into the wood, ajid seemed to recur, when, having scrambled to a promi- nent place on a weather-beaten wall, he looked down with laughing eyes, and watched her progress over the few mouldering planks that supplied the place of the drawbridge. Scarcely, however, had she and llosel entered the pre- cincts of the ruins, and looked over the wall that com- manded a view of the high road, than they heard a loud uud joyous jodel, and saw soon afterwards a young man 29G TREATS OF MARRIAGE AXD OTHER MATTERS. spriiifjing up the hill, flourishing his hat in the air, an(3 followed more leisurely by an old peasant, whose lonff- tailed, short-waisted, grass-green coat made Nora instantly recognise the man now well known to her by the name of * Crags.' Nora's inclination to build castles in the air on the ruins of Waltenburg instantly vanished, and she turned back to meet the old man and his son, who were evidently bearers of good news. With much pleasure she heard that the judge had appointed the following Tuesday for the signing of the contract of resignation, and that he would that very afternoon come to Almenau to speak to her. ' About the thousand florins, you know, miss,' said the old man ; ' for I told him I was sure you were ready to deposit the money in his hands on Thursday, or even sooner, if it were necessary.' ' Quite right,' said Nora, smiling at the peasant's cun- ning way of informing her that she would be required to keep her promise sooner perhaps than she had ex- pected. * When I have once made up my mind to do a thing,' he continued, with much self-complaisance, ' I do it. And that 's why I did not wait till ne.xt week to go into our town, but says to Seppel this morning, says I — If the young lady is willing to make that agreement respecting the churchyard, says I, let's take her at her word, says 1, and strike while the iron is hot.' Again Nora smiled, and he continued : ' If it 's agreeable to you, miss, the betrothal can take place at the foresters on Thursday evening, and before you leave the village I '11 move with my old woman into the off house, and let Seppel bring home Rosel.' ' You could not do anything that would give me more pleasure,' said Nora. She had scarcely ceased speaking when, more to her amusement than surprise, Seppel waved his hat in the air, and at the same time raising his right leg, he gave vent to his feelings of exultation in a shout that caused Torp to look in some astonishment at the pantomime being performed on the green hill beneath him. * This very day,' said Seppel, ' I '11 go to the Kerbstein jack's FinsT Exrr.oiT. 297 lake, and invite my mother's brother to come to us on Thui-sdav next.' • Tlie "fisherman there is your uncle ? ' observed Nora. ' And — my godfather too, miss, and has done his duty by me handsome from bej^inning to end. I would not niiss being the first to tell him of my betrothal for any cous.ideration, so I '11 just run on. and take leave of my mother, and perhaps 1 may get to the lake before nisht- fall ; if not, 1 can turn into one of the huts on the Wild Alp.' •The cattle have been driven down from vant of pasture,' shouted his father after him, as he bounded down before them. ' You will not find a cow or sennerin on the whole mountain now ! ' • No matter,' he answered, laughing, ' the keys of the huts are to be found under the benches before the door, and I can have my choice of the lofts, and the hay in all of them!' ' A spirited and a handsome fellow he is, there is no doubt of that,' murnmred old Crags, as he plodded on beside Nora and her perfectly happy companion. ' I sometimes think a little of his life and energy woukl do Antierl no harm ; but one can't have everything one wishes, and in respect of steadiness there 's no comparison ! ' CHAPTER XXVI. jack's fiust exploit. TiiK ne.\t day was partly spent by Nora in becoming better acquainted witli Captain Falkner. She perceived that he knew more of Torp than he was at liberty to divulge even to Georgina, and rejoiced that the incognito was to be continued for some time longer, as she had learned to distrust her uncle's professions of inditVerence to rank, and feared that Torp's haughty reception of his civilities might put her patience to a severe test. She accoin[)aiiied her uncle to the lake at St. Beuedict's. interpreted for him when he chose to tsilk to the people about the place, joined Georgina in trying to pei-suade Captain Falkner to leave the army, and made plans for 298 jack's FIIiST EXPLOIT. the future, in which, as possessor of Waltenburg, she was to be their nearest neighbour. She would have spent a pleasant day in tlie society of companions so evidently happy, had not John's absence caused her much uneasi- ness. He had left them the day before after a hasty dinner, and laughing congratulations to his sister and Captain Falkuer, and not having returned during the night, she feared, and at last firmly believed, that he had gone, as he had said he would, to the Wild Alp. It was there, also, that Seppel had proposed to pass the night, and she knew not whether to suppose a planned meeting on both sides, or an unlucky chance that would inevitably lead to mutual temptation. She remembered, too, with increasing anxiety, that Franz had returned home for Torp during the previous evening, and that Eosel had mentioned having seen them pass the forest-house together just before she went to bed. Their destination was also the Wild Alp, and she dreaded to think what might occur there should a meeting take place. Long, therefore, appeared the day, still longer the even- ing, but at last, leaving her uncle, Georgina, and Captain Falkner under one of the trees near the inn, she sauntered through the village, pre-occupied and dejected, responding more laconically than was her wont to the ' Good evenings * wished her by the peasants who sat or stood before their dooi"s. Scarcely, however, was she beyond the village, and within sight of tlie forest-house, when she heard her name pronounced in a low, cautious manner, and on looking towards the place whence the voice came, she saw her cousin John standing far above her, in the deep shade of an old beech-tree. lie seemed to have just descended from the summit of the mountain, along the steep side cf which the road had been made ; but instead of joining her, as she ex- pected, he beckoned impatiently, and then receded still further into the wood, as if unwilling to be seen. A good deal alarmed at his manner, Xoi'a sprang up the bank, and when beside In'm looked anxiously into his face. It was still light enough for her to see him distinctly, and, under any other circumstances, she would have indulged in a hearty laugh, so oddly did his disordered hair and smutted face contrast with his smart English walkin"[- jack's FIKST KXi'LOIT. 299 dress : but the streaks of soot about the roots of his hair, and tlie eoniical prolongatiou of his eyebrows, produced liardly the shadow of a smile ou her countenance, as, re- assured of his personal safety by his presence, she said, gravely, ' I see. Jack, you have had your face blackened, and been out poaching.' * Cull it wild hunting, if you please,' he cried, embracing her somewhat turbulmitly, ' and let me tell you, Nora, that I have no \vish to be anything but a hunter of this sort, as long as 1 may chance to remain in this jolly country, for more exciting sport it is impossible to imagine; I would not have missed last night's hunt, or this morning's fun, for anything that could be otfered me. But 1 have got into a little dilemma, Nora, out of which you must help ine, and keep my secret into the bargain.' •A dilemma ! ' she repeated : ' oh. Jack, I hope it does not concern Scppel in any way I You do not know what unhappiness it will cause, if he should be detected, or even suspected just now. I say nothing of the consequences to yourself, but for a mere frolic to destroy irretrievably the prospects of a young man whose father has so lately con- sented to resign his property to him, that he may be able to marry the person to whom he has been so long ' ' Oh, I know all thatl ' he cried, interrupting ht-r. * I've promised to dance at his wedding, if he has not to wait another half-dozen years before he celelirates it.' * Should he be brought before the judge as a wildschuetz,' said Nora, ' there is an end to all his hopes, for his father will undoubtedly disinherit him I ' * There is much more danger of his being shot by your friend the forester, than brought before the judge,' said Jack. ' I never saw such a dare-devil of a fellow in my life, to say nothing of his having fricuds and accom2)lices at both sides of the mouiit;uns.' •And you have induced him to recommence these dangerous and unlawful practices,' ob.served Nora, reproach- fully, ' after his having refrained from them for upwards of si.\ years I ' * Bosh I ' cried Jack. ' The people about here may believe that, and think he never touches a rille now ; but he told me — no matter what — a different story, at all 300 JACKS Finsr exploit events, and I must believe him, for he liad his clothes in one house and his gun in another, and knew perfectly well where to find the key to the uninhabited chalet in which we blackened our faces.' ' On the Wild Alp, most probably,' said Nora, sorrow- fiilly. * The very place,' exclaimed Jack ; ' but we did not re- main long there, for directly after sunset we began our hunt, and were joined by three fellows from Tyrol, who had seen no trace of chamois, although they had been out all the previous night. They proposed, however, giving me a " stand," as they called it, near a spot of ground that has been mu^h frequented lately by deer ; and, as we had famous moonlight, I had only to keep to leeward of the direction in which they were likely to come. But to get to this place, Nora, Seppel and I had to creep through narrow defiles and over rocks, to clamber uphill on loose sand, through bushes and brambles, and, at last, actually to crawl like woi'ms over stones and trunks of trees, cast about in all directions by one of those mountain-torrents now without a drop of water, though sometimes quite a broad deep stream.' ' I can easily imagine such a place,' said Nora ; * and though I do not exactly understand why you crawled over the stones ' ' To prevent them from rolling, and either alarming the deer or attracting the attention of those foresters, who are perpetually on the look out.' ' Well,' said Nora, ' go on. You shot something, I sup- pose, or you would not have got into a dilemma? Tell me what happened.' ' Oh, that was long after; and I rather expect you will enjoy, or at all events excuse, the scrape I have got into this time, as there is no harm done, and you can easily prevent any unpleasant consequences.' ' Tell me how, and let me do it then,' said Nora, im- patiently. ' I thought you would like to have a full and true account of all that occurred ; besides, you cannot be of any use until to-morrow morning.' • In that case,' said Nora, ' you may be as circumstantia) jack's first exploit. 301 as Tou please : and while you relate, we can walk towards the inn together.' •By no means,' cried Jack, cfitchinrf her arm to detain her. ' I do not wish to enter the village until it is dark, or the inn until I can get to ray own room and wash my face without being observed : besides, for reasons which you will afterwards understand, 1 don't choose any one to know that I have seen or spoken to you.' * This sounds very mysterious. Jack : I wish you would be more explicit.' ' Well, don't interrupt me so often,' he rejoined ; and then having seated himself deliberately on a huge stone, he looked up with an air of extreme satisfaction, and an odd twinkle in his eyes, and asked abruptly, ' Do you know what a schtnarn is, Nora ? ' •A sort of omelette, cut up into little pieces,' she answered. ' And a woodman's schtnarn ? ' he a-sked. * Something similar, I believe, excepting that it is made with water instead of milk.' 'Right: they call it /to/c-m?/ss ; and a better thing for keeping off hunger was never invented. That's what they gave me for supper yesterday evening.' * Where ? ' asked Nora. * At one of the houses — I don't know whether it was in Tyrol or Bavaria ; very civil people they were— wanted to return me the greater part of the money I gave them.' ' Then you were probably in Bavaria,' observed Nora ; * but go on.' * It was fortunate I had had so substantial a supper, and carried otT a piece of rye-bread in my pocket, for after we came to the " stand " they had talked so much about, the three Tyroleans left us, and we had to lie ensconced behind some rocks for hours and houi-s, listening to every sound, distant and near, with fatiguing attention, and peering out continually, to seo if we could distinguish anything ap- proaching the green spot at the other side of the nearly dried-up rivulet that ran between the mountains. I think it must have been a couple of hours past midnight, when we heard the sound of rolling stones and gravel, and soon after perceived a stray roebuck descending from the more barren heights to the grass plot nearly opposite us. I 302 jack's fikst exploit. could see every movement ; and at one time, as he raised his head, and came forward to the very edge of the grazing- place, he was not tliiity yards from the muzzle of ijay rifle. I raised it — my hand was on the trigger — when. — can you helieve it, Nora? — I got into such a state of agitation, that I could not attempt to take aim. I don't think I ever in my life had such a palpitation — such a tit of trembling ' ' And this is what you call sport?' said Nora. ' Pshaw ! ' he cried, starting up impatiently; ' there's no use in telling a woman anything of this kind, she can't understand on-e ! In short, he moved about unconscious of his danger ; gave me ample time to recover my self- possession ; — and — I shot him. The row caused by the report of my rifle is not to be described. Why, just on that spot there should be such an infernal echo, I cannot tell. It may have sounded louder from the long silence that had preceded it — perhaps, also, my wish to do the thing quietly made me more observant of tlie noise — but it seemed as if a regular discharge of musketry had taken place, followed by a rolling like thunder along the mountain-side, apparently endless ; for, even as it gradu- ally died away, a fresh report in the distance seemed to rouse the echo afresh, until I was perfectly aghast at the commotion I had caused.' ' I suspect,' observed Nora, 'you are not the first wild- schuetz who would have liked to silence the echoes about him : but stay ! ' she added, hastily ; ' you say this hap- pened about two o'clock in the morning. Now, Mr. Torp and Franz left Alnienau at midnight, and must have been in the direction, and near enough to have heard your shot.' ' To be sure they heard it,' answered Jack, laughing ; • and I dare say did their best to get at us : but, in order to prevent an unnecessary encounter, while I was listening to the echo, Seppel had scrambled across the stream to where the roebuck was lying, nearly motionless, only giving evidence of life by deep breathings and an occasional shiver, while enormous quantities of blood flowed from a wound in his side.' ' Poor thing ! ' said Nora, compassionately ; ' J hope he did not suffer lonj:.' jack's first EXpr.oiT. 303 • Oh. no,* said Jack ; ' his struggles were soon over ; for Seppel plungeil his hanger into the nape of his neck in a most scientific manner, and he never moved afterwards.' ' Well — well — and then '? ' said Nora. • And then,' continued Jack, • he butchered away for some time in a manner that I need not describe to you. and ended by placing the roebuck partly in his green linen bac, and slinging it. with my assistance, on his back. He afterwards put his fingers between his teetli. and produced a succession of piercing whistling sounds.' • What for?' asked Nora. • A signal to the other fellows to join us : they had been searching about the rocks above us, as I had promised them something if I got a shot. Seppel said it was better to be satisfied with the roebuck for this time, and proposed going on to the alp. as he believed the forester was out on tlie mountain, and he was the last pei-son he wished to meet just then.' •What a passion this hunting must be,' soliloquised Nora, * not to be able to resist the temptation even now, when so much is at stake ! ' • You may well say that,' observed John ; ' for if the old man had seen us, we should have had bullets " whistling as jhey went for want of thought." They tell me he fires in a very unceremonious manner at every wildschuetz he meets, ever since his eldest son was shot by one somewhere about here.' ' The forester was, fortunately, at home last night,' began Nora ; ' but his son and Mr. Torp ' • I know, I know,' cried John, interrupting her ; ' they came uron us at the Wild Alp, just as we had made a fire, and were going to cook our breakfast. One of our Tyroleans was on the watch ; and, as we were five to two, we let them come on. and prepared for battle.' Nora looked alarmed, but John's laugh reassured her, and she let him continue without interruption. • Our sentinel gave the alarm ; we seized our rifles, and looked through the window, just in time to see the enemy advancing up the hill, and over the ground tramped into holes by the cattle in wet weather. Torp and his com- panion sprang behind some rocks, raised their rifles, and S04 jack's first exploit. shouted to the Tyroleans, who appeared at the door, to deliver up their arms. They were answered by an order to sheer off, if they thought their lives worth preserving. Seppel, in the mean time, kept in the background with me ; and I am much mistaken if Torp, supposing us to be but three, did not consider himself, with the assistant forester, more than a match for us. At all events he showed more courage than prudence, for no sooner had the Tyroleans retreated into the hut, than he left his place of safety, and rushed after them, notwithstanding the loud remonstrances of his companion, who, nevertheless, seemed to think himself obliged to follow him. You should have seen how Seppel pounced upon the young forester ' ' What ! ' exclaimed Nora ; ' surely you must be mis- taken I ' ' Not a bit,' cried Jack : ' he knocked his rifle out of his hand, and then they wrestled desperately for a few seconds; but, with the assistance of one of the Tyroleans, he managed to get him down on the ground, and then tied his hands behind his back, and afterwards his feet together.' ' And Mr. Torp ? ' asked Nora. ' Torp floored the two fellows who attacked him without flny difficulty, and was evidently making for the door, with his eye on his rifle, until I rushed to the rescue ; and though I determined not to betray myself by speaking, and didn't say, " Come on," I 'm afraid I looked it, for he turned to me at once, and we had a regular set-to, pitch- ing into each other like ' ' Jack, Jack,' cried Nora, quickly, ' you have betrayed yourself to Mr. Torp, and will be completely in his power!' ' You could not expect me to wait until he knocked me down, too I ' cried Jack ; ' I gave him fair play afterwards at all events, for as soon as the others attacked him again, I drew off. I tell you, Nora, you would have died of laugh- ing had you seen him, as I did, struggling on the Hoor, and giving them all employment before he was pinioned. He 's an uncommonly powerful fellow, that Torp ! ' ' Perhaps,' said Nora, ' he did not observe any difference in your mode of attack from that of the others, for, after all,' his surprise and the confusion must have been too great for him to make nice observations.' JACKS FIRST EXPLOIT. ^05 •I don't l