%^- 
 
 J 
 
 mE:
 
 ■■>1! 
 
 "LI E) R.ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 U N IVLR5ITY 
 Of ILLINOIS
 
 ?^;Vs^^i^V)v
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS, 
 
 /J') 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON 
 
 THOMAS CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, 
 72, MORTIMER St., CAVENDISH Ss>. 
 
 1849
 
 
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "I SAY, Luke, old fellow, can T ride your grey 
 to Eavensvvood to-day V' said a young man 
 of five or six and twenty, as he entered the 
 morning room in which his family were 
 assembled. 
 
 " I want her myself, thank you," replied 
 his elder brother, as he stretched his awkward 
 length in the most comfortable chair in the 
 room, without even raising his eyes from 
 under their black and overhanging brows. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 With a good natured attempt to turn off 
 his disappointment by a laugh, Horace 
 Leigh was about to leave the room, when a 
 thought stayed his progress. 
 
 ''Only eleven I see ; I can have a day's 
 shooting, if you could spare the dogs and 
 Bingley T 
 
 *' You can't have them to-day ; Tm going 
 out myself to-morrow," was the answer, 
 given, in so cool and quiet a manner, so 
 quietly heard, that as the second brother 
 left the room in acquiescence to this appar- 
 ently unanswerable fiat ; it was evident 
 that there was nothing new in this otherwise 
 curious little scene. 
 
 Mr. Leigh himself never looked up from 
 his paper, worthy old country gentleman as 
 he was, he thought that 'his dear son Luke, 
 from the mere fact of his having appeared in 
 this world five years before his younger 
 brother Horace, had an unlimited right to 
 keep the best of everything to himself alone. 
 It may be no uncommon thing to see this 
 done in a way more or less veiled from sight ;
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 6 
 
 but unbounded indulgence from the Squire, 
 who was too old to change his ways, or his 
 opinions, which all favoured the heir to his 
 two or three thousand a year in comfortable 
 acres ; and a laughing submission on the 
 part of young Horace, had brought the 
 naturally coarse selfishness of the elder 
 brother, to a rather remarkable height : and 
 no one now, thought of interfering with his 
 good will and pleasure. 
 
 Mr. Leigh went on with his paper, and 
 Mrs. Leigh went on with her knitting, but 
 by her side was sitting an old lady, whose 
 kind looking brown eyes, had looked up ia 
 astonishment once and again, during the 
 few words that had been spoken ; she was 
 not surprised ; she had long and carefully 
 studied the characters of the brothers ; but 
 things were this time rather worse than 
 usual, and she fullowed her nephew Horace, 
 whose warm heart and quick wit had long 
 won much favour in her eyes, with a look 
 which boded no ill to his prospects for the 
 future. 
 
 B 2
 
 . 4 FAMILY FAILLNGS. 
 
 " Why can't your brother shoot to-day 'i" 
 said the old lady drily, " he won't often take 
 your dogs if he is going to town the day 
 after to-morrow !" 
 
 " Oh Aunt, if you wish it, I'll go and see 
 about the matter, but if he goes out with 
 me to-morrow, I don't see why he can want 
 to shoot to-day." 
 
 " Pray don't disturb yourself, for such a 
 trifle as your brother's amusement," said his 
 Aunt in a voice so different to her usual 
 smooth and amiable tones that even the 
 obtuse faculties of the son and heir dis- 
 covered the audible sneer ; and remembering 
 how powerful a person was the quiet looking 
 Mrs. Vernon, in the narrow circle of his 
 home, he actually got up and left the hre. 
 
 Everything looked the same in that pic- 
 turesque old oak room with its quaint 
 pictures ; Mrs. Vernon went on as before 
 with her piece of worsted work, but her 
 thoughts were busy with the past, and with 
 the future, over which last she had no slight 
 controul ; for good or evil who might tell !
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. . 5 
 
 Everything was still and quiet as before, yet 
 in her mind were working thoughts of those 
 two young men, and before she spoke again 
 those thoughts had ripened into a determi- 
 nation, which was their history. 
 
 She thought of the time so long ago, when 
 she was herself comparatively young, when, 
 she first knew her nephews ; she remembered 
 the clinging affection, the bold spirit and the 
 tender heart of Horace Leigh, and she did 
 not forget his brother's hugging closely all 
 his playthings one and all, lest Horaj:^ 
 should have one for a moment ; in this case, 
 if ever, it was true, that the boy is father 
 to the man. She thought of her boy, she 
 had long called him to herself " her boy,'' 
 winning his way at school and college with 
 his keen wit and steady industry ; lording 
 it elsewhere by his superior abilities, to be 
 a mere cipher in his own home. She knew 
 that he was hiding under his merry words a 
 proud and sensitive heart, and she dreaded 
 his fate as an unprovided younger brother. 
 
 The proverb says that " knowledge is
 
 6 FAMILY FAILINGS, 
 
 power,'' but "who now living in our sordid 
 times, who, but will own, " the might, the 
 majesty of money 1" that moral steam engine 
 for which nothing is too small, nothing too 
 great, nothing impossible. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon knew well, and gloried in 
 the power of nioney ; not for herself, her 
 day of worldly ambition and worldy vanity 
 was over, but for its power to shed upon the 
 nephew she had loved for years, the many 
 benefits of wealth. 
 
 Mr. Leigh of Leigh, and Mrs. Yernon were 
 brother and sister ; their father doted on 
 his only daughter, and as much of his pro- 
 perty was un-entailed, he had bestowed it on 
 his darling girl ; leaving only the Leigh it- 
 pelf to his son. Mrs. Vernon had married at 
 an early age, and after a long and happy 
 wedded life, embittered only by the death of 
 three children, she found herself as a widow 
 with the fine old place her husband had 
 bought, and property including that, to the 
 amount of nearly six thousand a year at her 
 sole disposal ; it was this little fact which
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 7 
 
 made her wishes of some weight to the 
 selfish and indolent Luke Leigh : and it was 
 the future destination of her thousands, 
 which occupied the busy mind of the old 
 lady as she sat mechanically working. Often 
 of course she had been weighing these plans 
 in the balance, but trifles h^ve often an im- 
 •portant influence upon our minds, and the 
 little scene of the morning, decided her on 
 her intended course. 
 
 ''My dear brother," began the old lady^ 
 ** I am much pleased with your son." 
 
 " Dear Luke !" replied the partial father. 
 
 " Dear Luke I" echoed good, simple Mrs. 
 Leigh. 
 
 " I thought of Horace," continued Mrs. 
 Vernon, " and now that he will be at the 
 bar, and on his own resources I intend, if it 
 meet your approbation, of which I hope 
 there is no doubt, I intend to allow him five 
 hundred a year." 
 
 '' Thank you, my dear sister, that is really 
 kind, but surely half of that would be
 
 O FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 enough for him, a younger son, and Luke,; 
 dear fellow, really I can't supply him half 
 enough with horses. Would not it be more 
 impartial, perhaps, excuse me, more like your 
 usual kind consideration, if you divided the 
 sum you kindly purpose to devote to my poor 
 boys — between the two V and the good 
 squire who seldom said so many words in a 
 week, much less in a breath, became quite 
 red in the face, with his exertions and his 
 partiality. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon smiled, partly at the unwonted 
 eloquence of his speech, and more at his 
 appeal to her impartiality : but she looked 
 down upon her brother's narrowness of mind 
 while she admitted him to be both good and 
 kind in his own way, and often thought he 
 stood too much in awe of the superior 
 mind of his young son, to love him as he 
 would have done had he been made of coar.-icr 
 clay. 
 
 " Surely, dear Anne," echoed, as usual, 
 Mrs. Leigh — '^ surely you would prefer — ''
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS, V 
 
 " Having my own way, certainly," in- 
 terrupted the old lady ; " I do prefer giving 
 to Horace only, the sum I mentioned." 
 
 " But, my dear madam," said the squire, 
 who was getting much excited by the iiite- 
 resting subject of discussion, " you must be 
 aware that no man ever succeeded at the 
 bar who had one farthing of his own." 
 
 *' I have heard that ; but it matters little, 
 in my opinion, whether Horace succeeds or 
 not in his profession," said Mrs. Vernon, in 
 a cool tone of decision, which beyond •all 
 measure astonished her hearers. 
 
 " Not signify !" exclaimed the squire, 
 quite breathless with surprise. 
 
 " His sole dependance, and no matter 
 whether he succeeds or not !" exclaimed his 
 wife, quite thunder-struck in a small way. 
 
 " Not in the least, for it is my decided 
 intention," added the old lady, rising with 
 an air of conscious power and dignity which 
 was quite impressive — " it is my fixed de- 
 termination to make my nephew Horace 
 Leigh my heir." 
 B 5
 
 10 FAMILY FAILLVGS. 
 
 Before the unwilling steps of Luke could 
 reach the stables, his brother had started on 
 a long and solitary walk, unconscious of 
 the vast change in his prospects which that 
 very hour was bringing about ; he was mus- 
 ing upon them in no hopeful mood. In 
 spite of his cheerful submission to his elder 
 brother, he did not feel the less that his 
 tyranny was nearly insupportable ; but liad 
 he resented it, even during the vacations 
 from school and college, the peace of the 
 family w^ould have been broken up, and the 
 Leigh could not long have held them both ; 
 for Luke^s mere vioieiice of temper which 
 was a family failing, was as nothing com- 
 pared to the power of sarcastic bitterness 
 which nature had bestowe 1 on Horace ; once 
 that bitterness of angry wit had cost him 
 the friendship of a valued companion ; and 
 lie had sternly determined not to give it 
 scope again. As yet his sense and princi[)le 
 had kept his temper in controul, and to 
 that, to that much repented loss, of a dear 
 friend, may be attributed his forbearance
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS, H 
 
 on many trying occasions; for though 
 Horace possessed a heart capable of deep 
 aiFection, there was nothing in his home to 
 call it forth — so, young and gay as he was, 
 he bore and forbore for conscience sake. 
 
 On his return from his silent and thought- 
 ful walk he passed through the garden, and 
 seeing Mrs. Yernon walking there alone, he 
 joined her, and before long she had fully 
 explained her intentions in his favour. The 
 happiness of being raised at once from a 
 state of painftd dependance to competerfce 
 now, and wealth hereafter, was fully felt by 
 Horace, and he warmly expressed his grati- 
 tude. 
 
 '* My dearest aunt it is not easy for me to 
 speak my thanks for this ; I have had 
 many a carking care for the time to come. 
 I could not hope much from my parents," 
 and he slightly hesitated, " still less from 
 Luke ; and although I had intended to devote 
 myself in earnest to the Law, the Bar gives 
 one so precarious a chance, that I have been
 
 12 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 at times tempted to despair of anything like 
 success — " 
 
 " Forgive me," said the old lady inter- 
 rupting him, '* if I wish to shackle my gifts 
 with one condition ; I am proud of your 
 talents, nephew Horace — promise me you 
 will follow up your profession as if you still 
 were poor." 
 
 " I will," gravely replied the heir-expec- 
 tant, and he kept his word. 
 
 They were a very awkward party when 
 they met at dinner time ; the odds were 
 greatly against Mrs. Vernon; she had made 
 one happy — true ; but she had disappointed 
 three ! Luke Leigh contrived to wish his 
 brother joy, though without much sincerity 
 in his face or tones : but the news had 
 spread throughout the house, and on his 
 way to his room at night Horace found his 
 hand seized by Mrs. Thomas the old house- 
 keeper, who sobbing out — " Oh, Mr. Horace, 
 I've heard — " fairly burst into tears of joy 
 at the good fortune of her young master.
 
 FAMILY FAILLNGS. 
 
 13 
 
 till though he pished and pshawed, and 
 laughed her off, it almost brought the mois- 
 ture to his own eyes to know that one heart 
 in his own home was gladdened by his happi- 
 ness — and only one. 
 
 Three days from that memorable evening 
 a small party was expecied in a very elegant 
 house in Grosvenor Square ; several young 
 ladies were assembled about the large round 
 table, in the centre of the room, which was 
 covered with all the newest publications, 
 reviews, everything that could amus« or 
 furnish conversation. The large chair of 
 Mr. Trevor, with his lamp and table, were 
 placed ready with the papers of the day so 
 that he might quietly enjoy them, or join 
 the merry party which was often gathered 
 together in his house, as he best pleased. 
 Mrs. Trevor was also seated with her work a 
 little apart, she was very silent, but a gentle 
 and elegant woman, and was the only sister 
 of Mrs. Leigh of Leigh. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Trevor had but one child, 
 who in consequence of the early death of
 
 14 FAMILY FA.1LLNGS. 
 
 her brother and sisters was, as may be 
 imagined, everything to her parents ; with 
 her natural good sense, their indulgence had 
 done herno other harm, than that of making 
 her rather more decided in her.opinions, and 
 rather more in the habit of giving them, /ni . - 
 than is usual in girls of her age ; i&deed in- /^ d.Hd' 
 general at nineteen they have noT^pinions ^4/^ / K/^_ ^ 
 to give^ She had, however, been brought 
 up so much with her parents, and parti- 
 cularly had been such a companion to her 
 father, who was a very clever nian, that hers 
 w^as no common mind. 
 
 One or two gentlemen were entering the 
 room after dinner, and a few others were ex- 
 pected, but all were familiar friends, and 
 met on this especial occasion, to welcome 
 an established favorite, and rejoice move 
 than his own immediate family had done, in 
 his good fortune. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Keane, is Horace not come 
 yet *? that you are actually and for once to 
 be seen without him," said Blanche Trevor, 
 a stately looking girl, to a gentleman, who
 
 Family failings. 
 
 15 
 
 being the first to leave the dinner table had 
 taken the seat next her. 
 
 Mr. Keane turned his remarkably beauti- 
 ful and childlike eyes upon her in what he 
 intended for a very searching manner, and 
 smiled. ' . 
 
 *' You mean that he is down-stairs— arri- 
 ved since dinner," said Blanche. 
 
 " I do believe, Miss : Trevor," said the 
 gentleman, >' that you know what people 
 are thinking of." 
 
 '' Take care of yourself if I do,'' said^he 
 lady as she rose with her mother to receive 
 her favorite cousin. 
 
 ^' How did you leave my sister V enquired 
 Mrs. Trevor. 
 
 '^ My mother is quite well, I thank you." 
 " You must acce[)t our warmest congratu- 
 lations, my dear nephew," continued Mrs. 
 Trevor with a smile. 
 
 " And my best wishes, Horace," said 
 Blanche, her fair face beaming with sincerity. 
 " Don't forget mine, old fellow," said 
 Keane wringing his hand.
 
 16 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 " Or mine," said a low voice from the 
 round table close to him, and Horace Leigh, 
 Nvith the colour rushing over his forehead, 
 turned to thank the fair speaker. She was 
 a very lovely creature, with a tall, slight 
 figure, and dark hair banded back from a 
 face whose calm and pleading expression, 
 with its soft, brown eyes, reminded one of a 
 Madonna. He lingered near her for a mo- 
 ment, but there was no room by her side, 
 there seldom was ; her attention had already 
 been engaged by others of the party ; and 
 with a slight touch of the hand, Horace 
 Leigh past on, to encounter more congratu- 
 lations. 
 
 " I'm not sure, Mr. Keane, that I am so 
 very glad of this expected fortune," said 
 Blanche quite forgetting to whom she was 
 speaking. 
 
 '' Xot pleased ! not glad !" was the aston- 
 ished reply ; *' I don't understand you !" 
 
 Blanche gave a quiet little smile, he never 
 did understand her. 
 
 " I am afraid he may be spoilt," said she,
 
 FAMILY FAILIJJGS. 17 
 
 endeavouring to put the many sided thoughts 
 that were crossing her mind into a form 
 suited to his comprehension. 
 
 " Do you think he can be spoiled T said 
 Mr. Keane, trying to look wise, but only 
 succeeding in looking handsome ; " Horace 
 is perfection, isn't he, in our eyes, Miss 
 Trevor V and he was silently delighted at 
 the meaning and the emphasis that he had 
 thrown into this speech. 
 
 " In our QJQ& he is," replied Blanche, 
 looking him full in the face ; " we are his 
 friends, and I am, besides, his cousin.'^ • 
 
 " * A little less than kin, and more than 
 kind,' '' vacantly answered the young man, 
 who had never been known to quote in his 
 life before, but was evidently inspired by the 
 subject. '' I speak for him — of course I 
 meant — I mean nothing,'' stammered he, as 
 he perceived a cloud upon the lady's usu- 
 ally placid brow. 
 
 '' You never do mean much," thought 
 Blanche, with a little laugh to herself, add-
 
 IS FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 ing aloud, with some decision — " I wish you 
 would leave off these hints." 
 
 " People will talk !" said Mr. Keane. 
 
 " Such an old story as it is," said 
 Blanche, laughing out merrily. '* Two 
 years ago the g^and report arose, that Horace 
 and I were to be married ! We laughed it 
 over, and we traced it out. We traced it 
 to the butler of the opposite house, here, at 
 the corner, who had observed it to the 
 cook, from seeing us walk out sometimes ! 
 From such ignoble cause what vast effects 
 might flow, if we were not wise enough to 
 see the utter absurdity of it." 
 
 ♦< Very well to say so," said Mr. Keane, 
 who was laboring that evening under a fit 
 of absolute inspiration. 
 
 " Why what has come to you 1" enquired 
 Blanche, in amused astonishment. 
 
 '' Would you laugh at me, and tell Miss 
 Walgrave there quite out loud what I was 
 saying — if I owned that I was jealous ?" 
 asked Mr. Keane, in a low voice.
 
 FAMILY FAILDTtS. 19 
 
 " Certainly I should tell some one, to 
 punish you," laughed Blanche. 
 
 *' If you wouldn't tell everybody all I say 
 as you always do," said the young man in 
 a comic despair, " I could say — so much." 
 
 " Nonsense ?" said the lady, as she left 
 the sofa. Frederick Keane remained in his 
 comfortable position, thinking that on the 
 whole he had actually come oiF victorious 
 in the conversation with Miss Trevor, whom 
 he very much admired, and very much 
 feared ; he wondered at his own boldness, 
 and became very red as he began to faiTcy 
 he had been almost, not to say quite, im- 
 pertinent, and as the thought struck him, 
 he got up, and crossing the room to help 
 Blanche to find the song she was about to 
 sing, he began to apologise in the most 
 abject and alarmed manner till her merry 
 laugh made him happy again. 
 
 " The idea of being angry at his imper- 
 tinence," thought Blanche — " his is the 
 pertness of a child, what a strange friend
 
 20 FAMILY JAILIKGS. 
 
 for Horace Leigh !" and she commenced 
 her song. 
 
 " Blanche," said a deep voice, full of 
 feeling, and capable of much expression, 
 *' we must have one of our old conferences ; 
 I shall not feel my new position aright till I 
 have talked it over with you ; there is a 
 delightful corner there ;" and they took 
 possession of it. 
 
 '' Cousin Horace, you are rich, and to be 
 richer. Hail thane of Cavvder now — hail 
 king that shall be I" 
 
 " The thane of Cawder lives an excellent 
 and kind old lady," laughed the heir in pros- 
 pect ; " and long may she live !" 
 
 " If I had to give a toast this evening, 
 Horace, it certainly would be ' The aunt, 
 God bless her !' and yet I do really believe 
 in my heart that I am sorry," said she, por- 
 tentously shaking her head. 
 
 *' You wouldn't say that without a reason, 
 Blanche, so tell me why." 
 
 " In the first place you will be an idler,
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 21 
 
 and I shall not care for you ; in the next place 
 you will be changed— you will be so courted 
 and run after' that you won't care for us." 
 
 " How can you say so, when you know 
 this room at this moment holds all I care 
 for on earth, of man or woman, Blanche." 
 
 '' Hush, hush 1 why any one would 
 fancy you meant me," said she, look- 
 ing anxiously round for listeners, and seeing 
 Frederick Keane in the act of turning away, 
 " though I know better." 
 
 "Have I not brother, sister, everything 
 here in this room— in Keane, and you, and 
 her,'' said Horace, in a low, but passionate 
 voice ; " what can change me to you '? 
 Fair sister Blanche, you are unjust." 
 
 '' For the first time it must be, then," 
 smiled she ; '* you have never accused me 
 of that before ;" and she turned to answer 
 some one who asked her to dance. 
 
 " Just look,'' said Mr. Keane, who was 
 going to join the quadrille with Miss Wal- 
 grave, the very beautiful and gentle girl we 
 have already described— ''just look how Mr.
 
 22 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 Leigh is making love as usual to Miss 
 Trevor !" 
 
 " Do you think he cares for her V asked 
 his partner, in a quiet, but not very steady 
 tone. 
 
 " It looks very like it, does'nt it now *?" 
 
 " You ouglit to know,^' replied Miss 
 Walgrave, as a shade of sadness came over 
 her fair face. 
 
 " He's a great flirt is Horace ; do you 
 like flirts 1" enquired Mr. Keane. 
 
 "Ill don't know ! I'm scarcely out !" 
 
 " But you're a friend of Miss Trevor's, 
 that I've heard ; are you afraid of her 1 I 
 am. She is so dreadfully clever you have no 
 idea — she sees quite through one." 
 
 Miss Walgrave had not seen enough of the 
 handsome young speaker to know how easy 
 it was to see through him, so she felt quite 
 alarmed. 
 
 " I wonder if it will ever be," said young 
 Keane almost to himself, " I don't think it 
 will somehow ; she lectures him too much ; 
 I wonder she does. How would you like to
 
 FAMILY FAILLNGS. 23 
 
 lecture, Horace Leigh. Fm sure I shoulcVnt/* 
 continued his great friend laughing at the 
 idea. 
 
 On looking at his pretty partner he was 
 much surprised to find that something he had 
 said had thrown her into a painful state of 
 confusion but as he never understood any- 
 thing he did not understand that. 
 
 "May I have the pleasure of the next 
 dance, Miss Walgrave V asked the very 
 person they had been talking about. 
 
 " Engaged/' replied the lady looking 
 down. 
 
 " The next," enquired Horace Leigh in a 
 tone which did nothing towards making her 
 feel less embarrassed. 
 
 "Engaged again." 
 
 " Surely the next to that V pleaded the 
 gentleman. 
 
 "Engaged — engaged, you are too late," 
 replied Miss Walgrave, lifting her large brown 
 eyes to his with a look which plainly asked, 
 " Why are you too late V and Horace bowed 
 to hide his bitter disappointment, and went
 
 24 FAMILY FAILL\GS. 
 
 to Mr. Trevor's corner of the room, moodily 
 throwing himself into a chair. 
 
 Horace Leigh was good and noble-minded, 
 was high-principled and kind, but he was 
 not without a fault which sometimes obscures 
 all better qualities ; he had the family bad 
 temper. ControuUed, carefully checked ; still 
 his feelings were so quick so easily hurt — 
 that we must own, our hero had a temper. 
 
 " My dear Horace you don't look so 
 wonderfully happy as one mighty expect !" 
 said Mr. Trevor quietly addressing him. 
 
 " I have the — toothache sir," said Horace 
 actually telling an untruth to avoid the 
 scrutiny of the keen eyes now fixed upon 
 him. 
 
 *' You had better ask your Aunt or 
 Blanche ; they have Eau de Cologne or some- 
 thing that would do you good !" 
 
 " I doubt it 1" answered Horace smiling,- 
 ** you have however given me a lesson, I 
 ought indeed to be happy ; to allow no little 
 thing, or great, to fret me at this time, when
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 25 
 
 I have just received so perfectly undeserved 
 a prospect of happiness ; for say what they 
 will, money isjurely happiness 1" 
 
 " Enough is absolutely necessary," gravely 
 answered the experienced man. 
 
 " And who shall say what is enough/' 
 answered the young nephew thoughtfully, 
 " one^s wishes change so fast." 
 
 "When one is young they do,'^ said Mr. 
 Trevor, with a melancholy smile, " but long 
 before my age is reached, a change of any 
 kind, even for the better, is avoided as a 
 grief, one has made up one's mind." 
 
 " I wish I had attained that happy time," 
 absently answered Horace. 
 
 " Do not wish that ; youth is the tinfie for 
 action and for change. Forward in youth, 
 should be your motto ; would you like to 
 stand still now in your spring 1 When 
 did the spring stand still ! have you no 
 hope and no ambition ? Plough the earth 
 now, and sow the seed ; and when the 
 harvest is gathered in — then wish for rest 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 — you have deserved ; you will enjoy it. I 
 know you well, you are not made for rest, — 
 your mind would prey upon itself. Work 
 while you can, rest when you must ; change 
 and excitement, wishes and eager hopes, 
 work and strife in the busy world are good 
 for 3"ou. I -have worked and my work is 
 done, I now can think here in my old arm 
 chair : but do not wish you had made up 
 your mind ; many a year and many a trial 
 only can make you do that ; you have the 
 experience of a life to gain before you can 
 attain that end — and then, Horace, it is a 
 melancholy one. But you must work for it 
 nevertheless, and do not let the promise of 
 this future wealth charm you to idleness — it 
 was not made for such as you." And 
 Horace Leigh listened with deep attention^ 
 for the words, chosen by one who knew him 
 well, awoke his half slumbering ambition, 
 and stirred up his powerful but perhaps too 
 refining mind, to action. 
 
 The party was dispersing, he had not once
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 27 
 
 left his corner by Mr. Trevor till he found 
 himself the last in the room ; he shook hands 
 warmly with Blanche, and whispered, " Good 
 night, I shall come to-morrow, I have not 
 said one word to her to-night." 
 
 c 2
 
 28 
 
 FAMILY FAILING?. 
 
 CHAPTEE 11. 
 
 YouNO Frederick Keane and Horace Leigh 
 were friends, beyond the common accepta- 
 tion of the term ; and Blanche was not by 
 any means the only person who had thought 
 it strange ; this intimate association of the 
 strong and weak is sometimes seen, and glar- 
 ing contrasts as they were they had been 
 friends from childhood ; brotight up at the 
 same early school, they had apparently nothing 
 in common : Frederick was as gentle in 
 character as he was fair and delicate in ap-
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 29 
 
 pearanpe, and his extreme and credulous 
 simplicity, which still existed, entailed upon 
 him as a boy all the torments that can be 
 devised by school boys only ; the generous 
 feelings of Horace were roused by his good- 
 tempered endurance of their well planned 
 annoyances; he fought one or two stout 
 companions in his defence, and loved him 
 ever after. At Eton Keane would have been 
 in never ending scrapes but for the willing 
 help of his old friend, and if he past his 
 Little Go, and actually took his degree, 
 Frederick knew well, though nobody else 
 did, that he owed these astonishing, and 
 generally unexpected pieces of good luck to 
 the circunstance, that his self-constituted 
 private tutor was no other than Horace 
 Leigh ; if Horace lost a little time and 
 credit for himself in thus bestowing them on 
 his friend, he did not regret it. — That young 
 Keane who had much affectionate gratitude 
 in his peculiar composition, should cling to 
 such strong handed frieadship as this is not 
 to be wondered at, that he should delight in
 
 30 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 the companion who furnished him with ideas, 
 and whose clear understanding of all things 
 enabled him to understand some things 
 more or less, was very natural ; but what 
 pleasure the bitter and clever Horace could 
 have in the society of a man to whom his 
 complicated nature was a riddle, Keane could 
 not attempt to solve ; what comfort Leigh 
 could find in the shallow mind which he 
 dared not trust because it would not dis- 
 cover that it was betraying a confidence, 
 even when doing so the most completely ; 
 what happiness this constant association with 
 an inferior mind, could give to Horace Leigh, 
 is not so easy to imagine ; he honoured and 
 esteemed, and placed the blindest confidence 
 in Blanche Trevor, and yet he did not love 
 her; he smiled at, looked down upon, and 
 had no trust in Frederick Keane, and yet he 
 gave to him a real afiection, and had proved 
 himself for years no ordinary friend. 
 
 Surely it must have been that the calm, 
 quiet, acquiescing nature of young Keane, 
 was quite a rest, to the unquiet mind of
 
 FAMILY FAILIIfGS. 31 
 
 Horace, struggling as he had done from a 
 boy, to be in the foremost rank ; in aiming 
 so high he had, though sometimes failing to 
 attain that point, accomplished much ; 
 and from the earnest fight with rival 
 claims- to superiority of intellect, he 
 had always found it a relief to turn to 
 the afibctionate face of his amiable but 
 simple friend. 
 
 Frederick Keane had been an only son 
 and a spoilt child. Sailors are often apt to 
 spoil their children, they see so little of them, 
 especially in time of service and of war-; 
 and his father, Admiral Keane, had been 
 much at sea. He did not long enjoy his well 
 earned rank, and Frederick's early years had 
 been spent with a doating mother and with 
 tlie occasional petting, of his scarcely less 
 indulgent father : they were both dead now, 
 and young Frederick had no very near re- 
 lation left. His parents had allowed him to 
 follow Horace Leigh to school, and his mo- 
 ther's last act was to place him at the same
 
 32 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 college at Oxford. Hitherto Keane had been 
 by far the richer man ; his independence, 
 four or five hundred a year, was quite enough 
 for one who really had not an extravagance, 
 but for the future he had no prospects ; he 
 had now, all that he would ever have, of 
 worldly goods ; and in his profession, which 
 was to be the Bar, his success was ridicu- 
 lously improbable. 
 
 Gentle and gentlemanly, refined almost 
 as a woman, unusually handsome, and with 
 a winning cheerfulness of manner, Frederick 
 Keane took his part on the world's stage as 
 " walking gentleman," at least so said his 
 friend Tom Daunton ; unfit for all the 
 struggles of life, a quiet path seemed to be 
 marked out for him ; let us hope he will not 
 by any circumstance be led to wander from 
 it. 
 
 '' Highly annoying thing — most horrid 
 bore," said Frederick, to his friend a day or 
 two after his return from Town ; *' I am a 
 persecuted wretch."
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 33 
 
 " What is the matter 1 something rather 
 serious to discompose you so/' said Horace 
 Leigh. 
 
 " I wish I was deaf," sighed Fred. 
 
 " Perhaps you may be in time, whilst 
 there's life, there's hope," carelessly answered 
 Horace. 
 
 "You would'nt like it, I can tell you," 
 observed Fred, pitifully shaking his handsome 
 head. 
 
 " Would'nt like what 1" laughed Horace 
 Leigh, amused as usual at the peculiar want 
 of lucidity in Frederick's little speeches. 
 
 " Music," said Fred. 
 
 "Why should'nt I? some people do," 
 quietly answered Horace. 
 
 " It does make such a row ;" pathetically 
 continued the gentle and simple Fred, " all 
 day and night, all night and day." 
 
 "Whaf?" enquired Horace impatiently, 
 " what are you going to say 1" 
 
 " Oh, hang that music !" pettishly ex- 
 claimed poor Fred, 
 c 5
 
 34 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 "You'd better try to hang it," drily re- 
 plied his friend. 
 
 " Just think," said Fred, " in my nice 
 lodging, Horace, so comfortable as I was ! its 
 now full of professionals— as full as it can 
 hold, and so all day they play and sing, and 
 that I should'nt mind, but then all night 
 they sing and play, such solos, full of shrieks 
 and chorusses of roars — and then Horatio, 
 when they've done, when they're all gone to 
 bed, at two or three o'clock, the worst of it 
 begins." 
 
 '*What can be worse," said Horace 
 iaughing. 
 
 " Then they begin to tune the piano— li 
 is a wretched, miserable Factr , 
 
 " Alas, poor Fred !" ejaculated Horace in 
 a mock sentimental tone. 
 
 *' But I must go, must cut, no human 
 being that had ears could stay ; such a nice 
 lodging as it was ! oh, those professionals !" 
 '' And yet after all they are quite right," 
 gravely answered Horace Leigh, " we should 
 do well, to do as they do."
 
 FAMILY FAILL\^GS. 35 
 
 " What, tune a piano all night long 'i en- 
 quired the literal Fred, opening his wonder- 
 ing eyes. 
 
 " I^JL^'^^^ise what we profess," said Horace 
 in a mocking tone, " you're too much per- 
 secuted, you must move ; and so must I, for 
 this wont do for a man of my enormous in- 
 come !" and he looked round upon that most 
 dismal of earthly things, a temporary London 
 lodging. 
 
 " It is a great bore, this moving," said 
 Frederick Keane stretching himself in the 
 arm chair, with a laziness altogether unkno\?n 
 to our great grandfathers, (if we are amongst 
 those who ever had them !) " everything 
 is so much trouble," continued he. " Ho- 
 ratio pray don't laugh, for I shall never 
 find so nice a lodging, never, I am quite in 
 a despair." 
 
 ^' Poor, dear Fred," thought Horace with 
 the affectionate sympathy of the strong for 
 the weak, " you are as helpless as a woman, 
 you actually want some one to take care of
 
 36 FAMILY FAILLNGS. 
 
 you," and he went off into a reverie. His 
 friend sat opposite him, with his remarkably 
 beautiful eyes fixed on the fire ; what he was 
 thinking of, it would be quite impossible to 
 say, certain it is, he could not himself have 
 told. 
 
 The result of the meditations of Horace 
 Leigh soon formed itself into words, " Fred, 
 what do you say to our living together, if 
 we are so seldom, why should we ever, be 
 apart." 
 
 " Splendid," said Keane rising with great 
 and genuine delight, " splendidly jolly." 
 
 Smiling affectionately at his odd choice of 
 words, Horace observed, '* Perhaps you had 
 better think of it." 
 
 " What is there to think about V said 
 Keane in the most innocent way, " if you pro- 
 pose it, it must be all right, why we shall 
 live like kings.'' 
 
 " Very nearly," said Horace drily, " but 
 I must explain to you old fellow, that I 
 don't mean to lead an idle life, I shall have
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 37 
 
 chambers too, and work there like a Turk 
 though why one should say that, I don't 
 know, for they do nothing.'^ 
 
 " I'm sure I don't," said Fred. 
 
 "Don't know, or don't do, anything?" 
 quietly enquired Horace. 
 
 "Don't bother," said Keane in a spoilt 
 child voice. 
 
 " I wont," laughed Horace, '* I promise I 
 wout do so any more, so we will find a 
 domicile ; come, let us look for one." 
 
 " I leave all that to you," said Keane. 
 
 " I shall have all my own way," said 
 Horace. 
 
 "1 shall be always near you," replied 
 Keane. 
 
 " My dear," said Lady Walgrave to her 
 husband, that day, " we must give a dinner- 
 party, I wish to ask young Leigh, he has 
 been very attentive to dear Isabelle, and he 
 has never dined here once.''' 
 
 *' That will be a very unnecessary trouble, 
 my love, the young man is not worth en-
 
 38 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 couraging — very good I dare say ; but no- 
 body and nothing." 
 
 " Very old family," suggested Lady Wal- 
 grave. 
 
 '* So are we, my dear ; but family pictures 
 as you know, are sometimes all that remains 
 to an old family — " 
 
 " That is not the case with the Leighs, 
 though it is with my poor brother," replied 
 the wife. 
 
 " I thought you did not give dinners to 
 younger sons, my dear," said Sir Josiah 
 Walgrave in a sarcastic tone, for his lady 
 wife was a manoeuvering mama. 
 
 " I do, when they are heirs to a few 
 thousand pounds a-year," replied the irri- 
 tated lady, " old Mrs. Vernon has declared 
 she leaves him her estate." 
 
 *' Ask him to dinner by all means," re- 
 plied Sir Josiah with an shrug. " I only 
 hope my pretty Isabelle may marry as she 
 likes — she v;ill do very well without lier 
 stratagems," lie muttered to himself, '' dear
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 39 
 
 little soul, very unlike her mother, luckily — " 
 and he knocked his hat down upon his head 
 and banged the street-door ; he had a very 
 particular contempt for his wife's managing 
 propensities, and was in no hurry to get rid 
 of his two pretty daughters, who were the 
 sunshine of his house ; and yet he let Lady 
 Walgrave do as she pleased, he really could 
 not help it ; he rebelled in words, never in 
 actions. So he walked on through the busy 
 streets of London looking but not seeing ; 
 mechanically keeping on his way though 
 completely occupied with his own thoughts*; 
 absorbed in a new project which he was per- 
 fectly certain would be successful — a project 
 not of his own, but one for which he was 
 eagerly furnishing the means. 
 
 In workshops, amongst manufactories, 
 did Sir Josiah Walgrave spend the time of 
 his stay in London ; he was an amateur in 
 mechanics ; sometimes he hit on an inven- 
 tion ; but they never came to much, and he 
 had long since given them up ; but if an 
 unknown genius wanted help, a new inven-
 
 40 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 tion was struggling into existence, a grand 
 improvement as yet unacknowledged by the 
 world required assistance in its progress, the 
 helping hand, with a purse in it, always ex- 
 tended on such occasions, belonged to Sir 
 Josiah Walgrave, he was always ready to 
 patronise such things with interest and 
 principal ! 
 
 Lady Walgrave entered the drawing-room 
 to seek her daughters ; but found only 
 Isabel le. 
 
 '* We are going to have a dinner-party 
 and you had better write the notes ; stay, I 
 will read you out the list, or there perhaps 
 you had better take it ; for our gentlemen, I 
 mean to ask Lord Arthur Stanley, Mr. Ward, 
 and Mr. Horace Leigh — " not choosing to 
 observe the involuntary start her daughter 
 gave, she went on quickly — " A very nice 
 and clever person Mr. Leigh ; I am afraid, 
 my dear, you were not so civil to him as 
 you might have been last night, he did not 
 pay you much attention, which must have 
 been your fault,"
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 41 
 
 • 
 
 " If you remember, dear mama, you 
 told me I ought not to — talk — or dance so 
 much with Mr. Leigh — " and the poor girl 
 coloured deeply. 
 
 " You are a good, obedient child, my love, 
 and I certainly did not like a daughter of 
 mine to make herself conspicuous ; but — but 
 Fve no objection now, if you like to talk to 
 him better than other people — do as you 
 please my love — only be civil to him as our 
 guest for the first time ; now write the notes 
 and quickly, I will take care they are sent — " 
 and Lady Walgrave left the room. 
 
 Isabelle sat perfectly still with her beauti- 
 ful soft brown eyes fixed upon vacancy, but 
 with a look of sorrow and care on her young 
 face. 
 
 " So soon, so very soon, he will despise 
 us, he will think perhaps it is my doing," 
 and the tears came into her eyes as she 
 thought almost aloud ; '' never to ask him 
 once all through the year, and now to-day — 
 at once." 
 
 Isabelle Walgrave had a proud and upright
 
 42 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 heart, and she suffered much from the 
 machinations, not always well concealed, of 
 her shallow but manoeuvring mother, but 
 now for the first time thej were bitter in- 
 deed. She took the paper to write an invita- 
 tion to Horace Leigh ; to most girls this 
 would have been no unwelcome task, but to 
 her it was very painful. 
 
 " He will see through it," was her only 
 thought, " I must be cold and distant, very 
 cold, or he will think I wished him to be 
 asked — I would have given worlds one little 
 week ago to see him here ; but now, if he 
 should think my mother courts him for his 
 money ! — oh, if he were but poor again ! — " 
 and yet with all these feelings at which the 
 old may smile, but which have rankled deep 
 in many a young and honest heart, she 
 wrote the invitation neatly and prettily ; how 
 little do our feelings interfere with every 
 day affairs. 
 
 She read it over, her first note to Horace 
 Leigh, the few and formal words which had 
 excited so much pain in her girFs heart, she
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 43 
 
 wondered if he would guess it was her hand- 
 writing, if he would look at it with interest, 
 and the colour carae to her fair young cheek 
 as she wondered still more if he would come ! 
 She sealed the note, and when the rest were 
 written took it up again to see how it would 
 look when he received it ! and yet she was 
 no foolish girl, she had good sense, although 
 so managing a mother kept back her daugh- 
 ters from the paths of every day experience 
 more than was good for them : she was a 
 true-hearted and most gentle girl, with all 
 the romance of early youth still lingering in, 
 her mind ; she was just such a one as men 
 would hope for as a wife, quiet and lovely, 
 tender and amiable, with a proud and up- 
 right spirit, but with little cleverness of any 
 kind : without a doubt she was the verv 
 wife for Horace ; and so she watched that 
 little formal note out of the room, and 
 coloured as she did so. 
 
 What deep and thrilling emotions do we 
 experience at trifles light as air when we are 
 young ; how keen our pleasures, and how
 
 44 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 sharp the pangs a word or look can cause ; 
 and how we marvel at these things when we 
 are old enough to have cold hearts. — It is a 
 pity that that day should ever come, and 
 yet the taming of years has its bright side 
 — it saves people from all sorrows except 
 real ones, and it saves them a world of hub- 
 ble-bubble, toil and trouble when they have 
 ceased to fall in love ! 
 
 Horace Leigh carelessly turned over his 
 letters, many were invitations, and few were 
 bills, which last was a remarkable fact ; he 
 read them carelessly out to Frederick, who 
 was there of course, for he always was within 
 a given number of yards of his friend 
 Leigh — 
 
 " Invitation to Lady Rose 14th., — Mrs. 
 Chester's ball 31st., — long letter from Tom 
 Dalton, — hearty congratulations. — Letter 
 from my dear mother — dance at Mrs. 
 Blake's — " and then there was a silence, and 
 if Frederick ever saw anything he would 
 have seen Horace turn a very singular 
 colour, men's foreheads always turn so red ;
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 45 
 
 and then he would have remarked that in- 
 stead of throwing that envelope into the fire, 
 the note was replaced therein, and Horace 
 very quietly left the room. 
 
 With a step as quick and light as if he 
 were walking to music, for his own happy 
 thoughts were urging him on, Horace Leigh 
 past on his way to Grosvenor Square, for one 
 of what he called his conferences with his 
 cousin ; his impetuous nature required a 
 calm voice to soothe it down at times, and 
 Blanche, with her quiet, matter of fact, good 
 sense, had often been of the greatest use to 
 him ; she was born to be a confidante ; 
 strangers would tell her at times of thoughts 
 and feelings, they assured her they kept as 
 secrets from their nearest and dearest friends ; 
 everyone felt at once that they might trust 
 her ; often had she been the mediator in 
 family disputes — Many a time had she extri- 
 cated her young friends who grouped round 
 her as a centre from their slight but awkward 
 scrapes; and.so Blanche Trevor knew more of
 
 46 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 human nature, and had read more curious 
 pages of the human heart than many an 
 older person. 
 
 " Miss Trevor is at home of course," said 
 Horace to the servant, who answered his en- 
 ergetic and eager knock at the door. 
 
 " At home, sir," replied the man, " but 
 engaged in the back drawing-room sir with 
 Mr. Spildin." 
 
 "And who is Mr. Spildin?" enquired 
 Horace. 
 
 " The Drawing Master, sir." 
 *' Well I suppose I can see Mrs. Trevor," 
 said the young man, impatiently making his 
 way up stairs, and much disappointed at the 
 unexpected interruption. 
 
 Mrs. Trevor opened the doors between the 
 drawing rooms partially, and after a few 
 moments of conversation, declared that she 
 w^as particularly busy that morning, and 
 would be really obliged to Horace, if he 
 would chaperone Blanche with that oddity of 
 a man, Mr. Spildin, whose lesson would not 
 last above a quarter of an hour longer, " be
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 47 
 
 steady, that is all I ask, and pray don't make 
 your cousin laugh," said Mrs. Trevor as she 
 left the room by another door. 
 
 " How do you do, Horace," said Blanche 
 with a remarkably expansive smile on her 
 usually placid face as she nodded to him ove r 
 her paintbrush, "you did not know I was 
 taking lessons in oils ; go and sit behind the 
 easel, Horace, and take a book, that large 
 one there, and don't look this way or I shall 
 spoil my picture," and she said all this in so 
 very decided a tone that Horace felt it was 
 absolutely necessary to do exactly as he was 
 ordered, and accordingly he obeyed her in- 
 structions to the letter, only turning round 
 just when he had quite arranged himself to 
 see why uppn earth he ought not to look ! 
 
 " Pray turn yourself more round," said 
 Blanche, in a pettish voice, which contrasted 
 very oddly with the extreme hilarity of her 
 face. 
 
 " Your tones are not tender enough, 
 mum," eagerly interrupted the artist, '* I've 
 often told you so, mum," and he seized the
 
 48 FAMILY ^AILIKGS. 
 
 brush, and mixed another tint, " thafs 
 what / call a tender tone ; imitate that, mum, 
 if you cany 
 
 The artist was a little ugly man, with a 
 peculiarly conceited and triumphant look, 
 and voice ; and the extreme familiarity and 
 energetic impressiveness of his phraseology, 
 which was confused to a degree, mixed up 
 pupil and brush, and picture, till no one 
 could actually tell which he meant, or which 
 luas which : this quaint vulgarity of speech was 
 qualified by such a humble and obsequious 
 manner as made it less offensive, whilst it 
 formed a most ludicrous combination. 
 
 Horace Leigh completely turned his back, 
 and shrank in good earnest quite behind the 
 easel ; he. thought, upon the whole, it was 
 the better plan. 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " More white, a little grey — now, mum, 
 you must go right up into the sky — quick, 
 mum, quick, now you may come down again 
 gently, mum, gently — take care of that 
 tree or youll do yourself a hurt, you will —
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 49 
 
 you can go off behind that mounting there ; 
 verj well done — I could^n't have done it 
 better." 
 
 And there was a pause. 
 
 " You're doing it beautiful !" exclaimed 
 the artist in an admiring tone — " You ar'nt 
 afraid of being too blue, you ar'nt — some of 
 my ladies is. — You're not a bit too blue, 
 though some people might think so ; Ogland 
 might.'' 
 
 " Pray who is Ogland V asked Blanche. 
 
 " An artist, mum, like me, only not so 
 good, / think ; he'd say that mounting was 
 too blue ; but if I take this bit of brown 
 for the foreground, mum, where you haven't 
 put nothink, this bit of brown I, say, will 
 make that there mounting go right off into 
 the distance, like a shot — " and he enthu- 
 siastically put a nameless piece of something 
 on the picture. 
 
 " There, mum," said he, " why you might 
 see it go !" 
 
 There was a slight and unaccountable 
 noise — it came from behind the easel. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 FAMILY FAILLNGS. 
 
 " I am afraid, mum, you are nurvous, 
 your hand quite shake it do — ^' 
 
 " Oh, it is nothing, thank you," replied 
 the pupil, " it will go off,'' but her voice 
 shook too, which was very remarkable, for 
 she was not a nervous person by any 
 means. 
 
 " You paint so clean," observed Mr. Spil- 
 din, with a profound bow ; " some of my 
 ladies are very clean, and some of em are 
 dirty ; dear me, mum, what a pity ! — allow 
 me to touch that bit ; — j ou've nearly spoilt 
 it, that you have ! — " and Blanche resigned 
 the palette and the brush. 
 
 " Yes, mum," continued the artist, *' I 
 always say Miss Trevor is my best pupil — 
 she paint so clean she do ! now some of em 
 I could mention — a little grey ; you see 
 Miss Grigson's very dirty now ; she paint 
 her gown, she paint her hands, she paint 
 everything well — except her picture, mum. 
 ' — Oh, that's a fact she do !" 
 
 " Fray, sir," enquired Horace suddenly,
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS 51 
 
 but still carefully concealing himself, " may 
 I ask if you paint from Nature V 
 
 " No, sir, I don't, sir, never, '^ said the 
 artist solemnly, " Nature take time she do, 
 and /have'nt no time ; the omnibusses don*t 
 give me no time they stops for ever — Now, 
 good morning, sir, good morning, mum — " 
 and he left them. 
 
 " What do you think of him f ' enquired 
 Blanche imitating his emphasis with perfect 
 gravity and great success. 
 
 " Good," said Horace with a gravity like 
 aers, *' really good." 
 
 " Artists who do not draw from nature 
 ire likely to be slightly original," observed 
 she with the same unnatural quietness. 
 
 Horace could stand it no longer. 
 
 " How did you ever hear of such a man V 
 said he laughing aloud. 
 
 " He was well recommended by my friend 
 Miss Blake, as a master really capable of 
 teaching all the mechanical art of painting 
 in oils, at half-a-crown a lesson ; think of 
 that friend Horace, and his philosophy I you 
 D 2 
 
 LIBKAK> 
 
 UWVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
 
 52 FAMILY PAILIXGS. 
 
 have not heard one word of that, for he was 
 strictly professional to-day he was ! before 
 a stranger." 
 
 " Blanche," said her cousin, *' I must 
 ask a favour of you, I must hear that man 
 again.'' 
 
 " You can come on Tuesday or Thursday, 
 when you like, the hour is always two, and 
 sometimes he is really worth the one half- 
 crown ! poor little man !" 
 
 " Now for a conference, Blanche," said 
 Horace, "' pray let us leave this paint," and 
 he opened the folding door for her — at the 
 same moment, " Lady and Miss Walgrave," 
 were announced.
 
 FAMILY FAILD'OS. 53 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 Horace waited for a few moments after his 
 cousin had entered the front drawing-room, 
 before he could find courage to face his lady 
 love ; for such she might be said really to be 
 although as yet no positive words of love had 
 crossed his lips ; many of them warm and 
 sincere, were lying in the depths of his heart, 
 ready for use ; but as yet they remained 
 there, quietly biding their time : — till 
 lately their utterance would have been 
 thought dishonorable, as he had no means of 
 marrying; but now they might find their
 
 54 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 way to her attention, any day or any hour, 
 unchecked by any worldly fear or considera- 
 tion. He nerved himself for the unexpected 
 meeting as well as he could, he tried to be as 
 cool and as indifferent as possible, and when 
 he imagined himself to have perfectly suc- 
 ceeded, he walked round and entered the 
 room where the ladies were assembled. 
 Miss Walgrave was sitting with her back to 
 the door, and did not of course turn round, 
 so Horace, feeling exceedingly foolish, and 
 very like a boy, walked up the spacious 
 apartment to speak to her mother, who re- 
 ceived him in the most amiable and gracious 
 manner imaginable, earnestly hoping he 
 had received their note, and that Sir Josiah 
 and herself would have the pleasure of seeing 
 him at dinner : '* indeed, Sir Josiah had so 
 often heard of him, that he was quite 
 anxious to make his acquaintance.'' 
 
 Horace bowed and smiled nervously : he 
 had never felt thus before, when he had not 
 a hope. He owned himself disengaged, 
 declared he should be most happy to dine in
 
 FAMILY FAILI.YGS. 55 
 
 Cavendish Square, and then turned round ; 
 it was the wrong Miss Walgrave ! Through- 
 out the rest of the visit Horace was alto- 
 gether inconsolable ; he had wound himself 
 up fo an unwonted pitch of emotion, and 
 the disappointment was enough, as he de- 
 clared to himself, enough to put any body 
 in a rage, it was quite ridiculous, and alto- 
 gether unbearable ; in short he made him- 
 self so far from agreeable, that Miss Louisa 
 Walgrave , who was two or three years the 
 oldest of the two, told her sister in confi- 
 dence that — " Mr. Leigh might be a very 
 delightful person, but that he certainly had 
 a bad temper." 
 
 Isabelle could not be put out of temper 
 by any possible circumstance, but she felt 
 very much annoyed at having missed an 
 opportunity of seeing Horace ; she had de- 
 cidedly objected to calling on Mrs. Trevor 
 that morning, and had particularly asked 
 her sister to take her place, becai^^e she 
 was afraid she might meet hira ; and now, 
 with the delightful consistency usual under
 
 56 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 such circumstances, she was very sorry indeed 
 that she had been so silly as to stay at home ! 
 she did not attach quite so much importance 
 to his being out of temper as her sister did, 
 or rather she attached much more; for she 
 judged him rightly, and believed that he 
 was cross, because he was really disappointed. 
 People are rather apt to confound feeling 
 with temper. 
 
 Poor Horace was unlucky that day, 
 for visiter after visiter arrived, and prevented 
 his having the smallest chance of a conver- 
 sation with Blanche, and when the carriage 
 came to the door he left them reluctantly. 
 
 By degrees he recovered his equanimity ; 
 and having arranged to meet Keane late in 
 the afternoon, he determined upon calling 
 on the eminent lawyer with whom he had 
 been reading for the last year, and asking 
 his advice on his future career. He was in 
 earnest; a proof of a strong mind, at his 
 age, aiid under his peculiar circumstances. 
 
 Taking a coach, for cabs were not then 
 hurry-skurrying through London day and
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 57 
 
 night, he approached the part of the town 
 sacred to law, and enquired when arrived, at 
 his destination, if Mr. was dis- 
 engaged and could see him. lie was 
 answered in the affirmative. 
 
 Mr. was sitting in his usual place 
 
 at a remarkably old leather covered table ; an 
 equally ancient and time-worn chair, two 
 sides of the room filled with bookcases, one 
 other table with papers, a very old carpet, 
 and a singularly dusty atmosphere, with one 
 or two old chairs, completed the tout ensem- 
 hie of the room. He welcomed his young" 
 friend with great cordiality. 
 
 " I must beg your pardon for intruding 
 on you," said Horace in his frank, manly 
 way, "for I see you are engaged, 1 shall 
 be happy to call again," and he glanced at 
 an elderly man who had nothing remarkable 
 about him except his broad head, and 
 shrewd, intelligent eyes, who was sitting near 
 
 Mr. with his elbow on the table and 
 
 his quiet, observing face, leaning on one 
 D 5
 
 58 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 hand, whilst the other rested on a largo 
 bundle of important looking papers. 
 
 "You need not mind that gentleman, he 
 is waiting for papers, without which we 
 cannot go on with our business ; unless in- 
 deed you have anything to say which re- 
 quires my private room — shall we go there V' 
 
 "My business is of no importance and 
 requires no secresy,'' said Horace, slightly 
 colouring, " it only concerns myself ; but 
 during the time I was your pupil here, you 
 so often desired me to apply to you for ad- 
 vice, that I have ventured to do so, now that 
 I am about to begin my course." 
 
 "Why, my dear Leigh," replied the 
 lawyer, " surely my old friend Trevor told 
 me you had come into a fine fortune." 
 
 " I have the promise of one," smiled 
 Horace, " but I am even more anxious than 
 ever, to make my own way, by my own exer- 
 tions." 
 
 " You have the right spirit in you," said 
 the lawyer kindly, " and if you wish for my 
 advice, you shall have it. I am not often at
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 59 
 
 leisure, as I shall be for the next ten 
 minutes." 
 
 He employed them in laying down the 
 law, literally as well as metaphorically, and 
 bestowed on Horace, advice truly invaluable ; 
 he had struggled up to eminence himself, 
 and was well able to point out the path. 
 
 With an expression of the gratitude he felt, 
 Horace Leigh wrung the offered hand of his 
 real friend, and left the room. 
 
 The old gentleman alluded to, had been 
 watching the kindling face of the young 
 listener, with great interest ; he thought he 
 had never seen a liner countenance ; there 
 was an energy in it, not often seen, in one so 
 young ; the broad forehead and the rather 
 broad mouth, gave an expression of mingled 
 frankness and power, which was very pleasing ; 
 the whole face spoke, and lighted up with 
 changes which were attractive to the old 
 man ; for he had learnt to read looks in his 
 long career, and what he read there he liked, 
 he muttered to himself, " he has the eagle 
 eye — hum — he will do P' When Horace left
 
 60 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 the room he asked abruptly, " and who is 
 your young friend — " 
 
 " The best pupil that ever read with me ; 
 young Horace Leigh, son of old Leigh, of 
 Leigh/' said the lawyer rather astonished at 
 the tone of interest in which the old gentle- 
 man repeated, 
 
 "Son of old Leigh of Leigh, indeed f he 
 did me once a service of some consequence, 
 which I have not forgotten. That fine young 
 man is going to the bar — ah, called is he, 
 already. Hum, m.y good friend ; when you 
 have your silk gown, or it may be are a step 
 or two higher up on the ladder — I might be 
 useful to him, eh 1" 
 
 " Indeed you might !'' replied the lawyer 
 with a note of admiration in his voice. 
 
 At that moment the clerk came in laden 
 with a box of papers, and in a few seconds 
 more, these two men were engaged in matters 
 that would have puzzled any heads but theirs, 
 and they had quite forgotten Horace Leigh 
 for the time being. 
 
 *' It's rather good fun old fellow," said
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 61 
 
 Frederick Keane to his friend as they sat to- 
 gether over their wine, " but I've got an in- 
 vite from that Lady Walgrave, with the 
 pretty daughters; at least that Louisa Wal- 
 grave is very pretty is'nt she '? I shall feel 
 quite shy going by myself." 
 
 " Tm going," said Horace quietly, " if it 
 is the seventeenth/' 
 
 " Dear me, you never said so,' said Fred. 
 
 " Did'nt I V answered his friend, " I 
 suppose I forgot it," and he smiled to him- 
 self at the idea. 
 
 " Have you found out any place for us to ' 
 hide our heads in, in style V asked Fred. 
 
 " I think I have,'' replied Horace, " really 
 a very snug domicile ; you'd better look at it 
 to- morrow." 
 
 " If you like it I shall," coolly replied 
 Keane. 
 
 " I've taken it for a year certain, it won't 
 do to tie ourselves together for longer," said 
 Horace, " we might get tired of one another." 
 
 " Oh ! very likely indeed," said Fred,
 
 B2 FAMILY FAILI^•GS. 
 
 meaning his speech to be uncommonly 
 ironical. 
 
 "I might get tired of you, you know, 
 though you might not of me/' answered 
 Horace carelessly. 
 
 "You don't mean thatf rejoined poor 
 Fred in a tone of great anxiety, and opening 
 his wondering eyes to their fullest extent. 
 
 " Perhaps I do — and perhaps I don't," 
 laughed his friend, " so you must be a good 
 boy.'' 
 
 " I thought you were joking," said Keanc 
 in a tone of great relief, " only you have 
 such a way of saying things, I never under 
 stand you above half.'' 
 
 " Many a true word spoken in jest," 
 quietly observed Horace, " but be content, 
 old fellow, I could better spare, a better 
 man." ' 
 
 " There you go again, do you mean that 
 for a compliment or not. I'll be shot if I 
 know ; I say Horatio !" continued he, " I've 
 found out what you're like 1"
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 63 
 
 " Well r asked Horace. 
 
 Fred triumphautlj replied .^ " A Chinese 
 Puzzle!" 
 
 The seventeenth arrived, Ladj "Walgrave 
 came down in all the majesty of green velvet, 
 and her daughters were attired as young ladies 
 always oi^ght^^bej in plain white muslin : 
 the Trevors arrived first, then a few strangers, 
 and last though not least, Horace and his 
 friend Keane ; the latter instantly sheltered 
 himself under the protection of Blanche, for 
 he was labouring under a shy fit, for reasons 
 known only to himself. He took her down • 
 to dinner, and devoted himself to her the 
 whole evening, though it appeared without 
 altogether engrossing her attention ; as he 
 complained the next morning and not with- 
 out good cause ; that he really believed Miss 
 Trevor had a cold and was deaf, for she very 
 often had answered him wrong, and more 
 than once evidently did'nt hear what he said. 
 
 Horace was in high spirits, he was seated 
 next Isabelle at table, and though an elderly 
 young lady, who considered herself a wit,
 
 64 FAMILY FAILIKGS. 
 
 was unfortunately his neighbour on the 
 other side, and would insist on talking to 
 him, and discussing the news, whether 
 he would or no ; with the exception of this 
 contretemps, he spent a happy evening. — 
 Isabelle had previously determined on being 
 very cold to him, but when she heard his 
 voice, and met his eyes, beaming with 
 admiration, all her good resolutions 
 vanished into air, and she smiled and lis- 
 tened, as if he had still been poor. She 
 saw in a moment, that he did not suspect 
 her of setting at him now, and she was 
 very happy in the bright present. 
 
 There is this peculiarity in the attach- 
 ments of very young girls — they never look 
 to the future ; they do not think of marry- 
 ing, or weighing in the balance whether 
 such an event can be ; they do not think of 
 means or incomes ; they only know that 
 they are happy now, and wish for no 
 change. 
 
 Isabelle Walgrave did not once argue with 
 herself that ''now he could propose." She
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 65 
 
 only felt how very delightful it was, that her 
 mother did not now object, to the long con- 
 versations upon which she had hitherto 
 lectured as very heinous offences against 
 the rules of young ladyhood. And so she 
 listened in peace and without fear, and it 
 never once occurred to her as strange, that 
 there was less of love in Horace Leigh's 
 sparkling sentences than had of late been 
 addressed to her ; yet so it was ; never had 
 he alluded so little to his affection for her 
 since they first became well acquainted ; his 
 allusions had always been distant, but still 
 sufficiently distinct, but now, this evening, 
 when he might, and could have said so much, 
 to say nothing at all verging upon the sub- 
 ject, was, to make the least of it, very incon- 
 sistent. Men are strange creatures, and it 
 is very difficult at times to guess their 
 motives. 
 
 Lady Walgrave watched with her prac- 
 tised eyes ; she had a more than usual 
 interest in the matter, as Horace would be in 
 time, no inconsiderable prize, and she was
 
 66 FAMILY PAILLVGS. 
 
 not altogether satisfied. She fancied thej were 
 laughing too much, aod that is not in general 
 a satisfactory symptom to anxious mamas. — 
 If there is a life in the world, next to that 
 of a turnspit, most to be pitied, it is that of a 
 chaperone ; to work by day and night, even 
 if innocent of plots and plans — to gaze on 
 the same tiresome, but untiring dancers, with 
 the same weary eyes night after night — to 
 make the same civil speeches to one genera- 
 tion after another of young men — to escort 
 one daughter after another in the same 
 weary round — I really do not wonder that 
 mothers are so anxious to marry their daugh- 
 ters, and be quiet ! 
 
 Sir Josiah detailed to Horace " a new in- 
 vention upon a new principle, which was 
 perfectly certain to answer, particularly as 
 his clever friend Lingwood was entering into 
 the speculation with him," and having found 
 a most attentive listener to the whole ac- 
 count of screws, wheels, levers, and air- 
 tight contrivances, not one word of which 
 was clearly explained, or understood ! Sir
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 6t 
 
 Josiah pronounced young Leigh to be one of 
 the most agreeable and sensible young men 
 he had ever " listened to ;" these were his 
 words he being ; quite unaware, that Horace 
 had merely bowed and smiled, in the most 
 attentive and plausible manner, without once 
 uttering a word ! The young man, however, 
 had his reward, for he was cordially invited 
 to the house whenever he liked to come, 
 and if he would join their party on the fol- 
 lowing Friday, Sir Josiah " believed that 
 Lady Walgrave had not yet filled the table, 
 but ladies must be consulted, and he never 
 ventured to ask any one into his own house 
 — never ; without asking leave — he strongly 
 recommended Horace to manage better when 
 he married/^ 
 
 A few mornings after the party, Horace 
 was in his place, seated with exceeding 
 gravity behind the easel, of which he fully 
 appreciated the advantage. 
 
 Blanche had prepared her palette, and 
 they were patiently awaiting the arrival of 
 Mr. Spildin.
 
 68 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 He entered with his usual obsequious bows, 
 very much out of breath, and at least a 
 quarter of an hour past his appointed 
 time. 
 
 " How do you do, mum, how do you do 
 again, sir ! — very sorry, mum, I'm so late 
 — Vm quite behind to-day — how uncommon 
 well your picture looks — but it is not my 
 fault ! — I come from Blackwall, mum, a 
 pupil there by the railway, and the rope 
 broke — no offence, mum, I hope ; but that 
 was'nt mt/ fault." 
 
 He made no stops. 
 
 " Oh, pray don't mention it," said Blanche, 
 " your time is valuable, but mine is of no 
 consequence." 
 
 *' You may well say that, mum," am- 
 biguously observed the artist, " my time is 
 valuable ; a half-a-crown an hour — and I 
 should'nt have been so late now, only the 
 omnibus stopped so, that I got out and 
 walked, and after all, mum, I had better not, 
 for feet ain't omnibusses !"
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 69 
 
 Faint rustling of the newspaper in Horace 
 Leigh's left hand. 
 
 " Have I done this right V enquired 
 Blanche. 
 
 " Perfectly, mum V' 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 *' Blackwall is a tiresome place to have 
 pui)ils at, mum," said the painter, in a 
 melancholy voice, " and it's a long ways to 
 come for a half-a-crown, particular if you 
 take a omnibus out of it." 
 
 *' Indeed it is," replied Blanche, in a 
 compassionate tone. 
 
 But it was thrown away, for Mr. Spildin 
 had one of his conceited fits fast coming 
 upon him. 
 
 ** I'm very low," said he, " I know I am, 
 but my pupils likes to be low, you like to be 
 low, (a most respectful bow ;) Miss Blake 
 likes to be low, and so / gets good pupils — 
 it's a deal of talent that I throw away a 
 teaching of young ladies ; but it answer it 
 do. — One half-a-crown is'nt much it is'nt,
 
 70 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 but a good many on em is a good many, it 
 is. 
 
 " Your colour is'nt strong, mum, you are 
 not half forward enough, you aint indeed ! 
 your taste is for the back ground, I see that 
 with half an eye I do — dear me, mum, how 
 very bad that touch is, pray let me — " 
 
 And as Blanche rose from her seat and 
 stood behind the artist's chair to see him 
 rectify her blunder — at that unfortunate 
 moment Horace Leigh turned round, he 
 caught her eye, was seized with a sudden fit 
 of coughing, and fairly rushed out of the 
 room to recover himself. 
 
 " Gent-tleman got the influenza, I'm 
 afraid,^' said Mr. Spildin ; " everybody has 
 got it, now — you're a coffin, I'm sorry to 
 hear." 
 
 " Oh, nothing," stammered Blanche ; and 
 Horace came back to his place. 
 
 " Pray Mr. Spildin," asked the pupi], 
 "• what tree is this in the foreground — is it 
 an ash 1" 
 
 *' It isn't a oak, and it isn't a elm, and
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 71 
 
 it isn't a ash ; it's a anythinhyou-please, 
 mum. I always does my trees in that way, 
 then nobody carnt say they are not like. 
 I've suffered a deal, from people saying 
 things warnt like, when I took likenesses ! 
 I've give that up. I've got so many copies 
 to do, of landscapes for my pupils, I carnt do 
 nothing else." 
 
 *' If you don't draw from nature, how 
 do you get so many copies 1" meekly en- 
 quired Horace. 
 
 *' Out of my head, sir, to be sure. My 
 head is everythink to me ! Good morning, , 
 mum ! I wish you well, sir, of the influ- 
 enza — and good morning too !" 
 ^ " Not so good this time, sweet sister 
 Blanche," said Leigh. 
 
 '' Wait till next lesson," said she, laugh- 
 ingly ; " your influenza prevented your 
 enjoying his absurdities. Shocking bad 
 cough you had ! But now from lively to 
 severe ; what's this I hear of your having 
 agreed to share with Mr. Keane your roof 
 and your dinner ; you have surprised me
 
 72 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 slightly, sir; I thought that now, friend 
 Horace, of all times in the world, you would 
 not have hampered yourself with a com- 
 panion, who must, say what you will, be 
 uncongenial ; when — I shall say no more : 
 only I call upon you instantly to rise, reply, 
 explain." 
 
 " Verily, iilanche, it was at first like 
 many things which shape our fate — a kind 
 of accident. You have not an idea how 
 helpless that poor fellow is ; it's a great 
 kindness to him ; and I promised it without 
 a thought but for his comfort ; I am so much 
 accustomed to make Fred my first considera- 
 tion, that really just at the moment, I quite 
 forgot — myself — it was weah, that I will 
 grant ; but Fred is just my weakness!'' 
 
 " You forgot yourself , sir, did you \ and 
 you can sit there and own what very few 
 people in this world can say with truth. I 
 wonder you are not ashamed to say that you 
 forgot yourself 1" said Blanche, with an 
 arch emphasis. " You had a right to do
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 7S 
 
 that, certainly ; but you, at the same time, 
 it seems, forgot some one else !" 
 
 Horace turned very pale ; and there must 
 have been something catching in it, for his 
 cousin's bright colour faded too. 
 
 "AhP he ejaculated, "I felt that! 
 but I could not disappoint poor Fred." 
 
 " You care perhaps more for poor Fred V 
 enquired Blanche, with a keen glance up at 
 his face. 
 
 '* Pshaw !" replied Horace, with more 
 feeling than politeness. Then he con- 
 tinued : " Did you never do a foolish thing, 
 Blanche, that you're so severe upon me V 
 
 " Pray don't be angry, Horace — I'm not 
 in a fighting humour — I wish to talk — to 
 hear ; and we can fight some other day ; 
 surely it seemed to me, and I observed you 
 sharply, that you and that sweet creature 
 were less like lovers at the dinner than I had 
 ever seen you yet ; will you explain me 
 that? I thought that wealth might alter 
 even you! Are you becoming worldly, 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 Horace — can it be possible that jow will 
 change in this V 
 
 " It is unjust of you who know the rise 
 and progress of i all, to saj — you cannot 
 think such things/' said Horace, in an 
 indignant voice ; " I love her better now 
 than ever." 
 
 Blanche turned sharply awaj — 
 
 " And more. This promised wealth is 
 dear to me, because it will — if my hopes do 
 not deceive me, Blanche — because it will 
 embellish the future, which would be nothing 
 to me, without her." 
 
 " I am glad to hear this ; nothing could 
 compensate to me for the grief of seeing 
 you act in a manner I could blame," said 
 Blanche, in a tone of very deep emotion. 
 
 " I thank you, Blanche, I value your 
 esteem— you know it." 
 
 '^ Then you are unchanged ?' said she. 
 '' Well, certainly if it be so ; she has some 
 reason now to doubt that fact ! I wish to 
 ask you, Horace, what will she think of this
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 75 
 
 new plan, now that at last, your means 
 enable you to offer, and to marry V 
 
 A deep gloom came over the face of 
 Horace Leigh. 
 
 *' You probe me to the quick ; — word 
 for word, of course, all this has come before 
 my mind ; but Blanche, I do think now 
 'twill be as well to feel my way. Isabelle 
 is a flirt ; I often tried to blind myself to 
 this — but it is really so ; and since I've 
 made a fool of myself, and tied my hands for 
 a whole year, it may be just as well; for I 
 shall feel more sure of her affection if she 
 can stand the trial." 
 
 '' I did not think you had been so un- 
 feeling, Horace," said Blanche, curling her 
 lip — *' I really fancied you a man of honor 
 and principle, * I really did ; • and now to hear 
 you so quietly talking of trying her 
 affection /" 
 
 *' Excuse me, Blanche ; I am in toils of 
 my own setting ; and I am trying to recon- 
 cile myself to my own fetters ! — I scarcely 
 know what I am saying.'' 
 E 'A
 
 76 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 " I Lope not," said she with some 
 emphasis. 
 
 " The fact is I am reallj unhappy, for 
 besides this stupid piece of my good-nature, 
 I have reasons for delay — substantial reasons, 
 such as you would approve," said Horace^ 
 anxious for her good opinion, " which make 
 me fear — I will explain — I know that you 
 will feel for me^ — you see, dear Blanche — "' 
 
 " Mr. Keane,' announced the servant ; 
 and at this interesting point their con\ersa- 
 tion came abruptly to a close. 
 
 " I hope you are quite well ! no colds 
 this horrid weather V enquired Keane, ris- 
 ing as soon as he was seated, to speak to 
 Mrs. Trevor, who at that moment entered 
 the room. " I hope you will excuse my 
 early visit, but the fact is that Horace 
 waited for the post, but the rains had 
 delayed the mails, and he had been gone an 
 hour before they came, and as I knew he ex- 
 pected letters, I have brought them for him," 
 and he extracted two letters from his pocket 
 and handed them to his friend.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 77 
 
 " Pray read them," said Mrs. Trevor to 
 her nephew ; and they went on talking. 
 Blanche noticed the expression of extreme 
 surprise upon his face, and the astonishment 
 became general when Horace exclaimed — ■ 
 
 " Wonderful news from home ; my bro- 
 ther Luke is going to be married 1"
 
 78 FAMILY FAILIKGS. 
 
 OHAPTER IT. 
 
 Husband and wife each in their way plotting 
 and planning foolishly ; the "Walgraves also 
 had their family failings. Sir Josiah was 
 sitting in his back dining-room, which he 
 had converted into a sanctum, wholly inac- 
 cessible to his wife, or even to his darling 
 Isabelle ; on this one point his orders were 
 actually attended to ; the moment he took 
 his seat at his desk in that room, he felt 
 himself really of an importance, which Lady 
 Walgrave seldom allowed him to assume in
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS, 79 
 
 any oth^r part of the house ; the room was 
 fitted up in a very curious style, small 
 models of machinery were scattered about 
 on chairs, tables, and floor ; wherever there 
 was space for them ; and as some of the 
 working models were in motion^ a curious 
 noise of wheels, and clicking and humming, 
 and burring, gave one the idea of being in a 
 miniature mill. One very pretty machine 
 was pouring a tiny stream of water upon 
 some incomprehensible principle, and was 
 intended as a successful attempt at perpetual 
 motion — it perfectly succeeded — in looking 
 like a remarkably small cataract ; but was 
 stopped one day by some unfortunate little 
 circumstance, or hitch in the machinery ; 
 the whole blame of which the inventor im- 
 mediately laid upon *' the stupid man who 
 made the model T' Close to that, was stand- 
 ing a very peculiar fire-extinguisher, a spring 
 was to be touched after lighting a minature 
 pile of combustibles, and a kind of very 
 affective shower-bath descended upon the 
 conflagration, and ought to have put it out :
 
 80 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 only unfortunately one day^ the fire gained 
 the mastery over the water, and very nearly 
 burnt down the house ; this useful machine 
 ■was considered by the inventor so exceed- 
 ingly important, that no room in any house 
 ought to be without one, particularly as 
 they might be made very ornamental in 
 drawibg-rooms, and as useful in bed-rooms 
 as common-place shower-baths. 
 
 This model bore a considerable resem- 
 blance to a small Punch and Judy theatre, 
 and was very much in the way ; only as it 
 had been given to Sir Josiah by the inventor, 
 who was ^' such a very clever, sensible fel- 
 low " and '' so much in the habit of looking 
 in " that Sir Josiah could not hurt his feel- 
 ings by removing it. 
 
 There was also on chairs, close to the 
 master of the house, a very annoying 
 machine ; for grinding in a way altogether 
 new and extraordinary — which had been left 
 there that morning — this affair had been set 
 to work by the maker, who had at the time 
 carefully explained to Sir Josiah the way in
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 81 
 
 which it was to be stopped ; as if allowed to 
 go on one moment after the material it was 
 grinding was exhausted ; some verj^ great 
 injury to the model would occur, and some- 
 thing or other very dreadful would happen ; 
 unluckily Sir Josiah was so absorbed in 
 astonishment at the novelty of the idea, that 
 he forgot to notice which screw was to be 
 turned, to produce the desired effect ; the 
 inventor went out of town unexpectedly in 
 the afternoon, leaving his machine behind 
 him ; by that time the material was all 
 ground, and it was absolutely necessary to 
 stop the model ; the only difficulty was 
 how to do it ! Sir Josiah tried in vain to 
 find out which was the screw ; his memory 
 and ingenuity failed him at once — the 
 model went on grinding fiercely ; but since 
 the moment when its progress ought to have 
 been stayed, it had been hourly making more 
 and more noise ; a terrible internal contest 
 was evidently going on ; gratings and scrap- 
 ings of the most unpleasant kind, enough 
 E 5
 
 82 FAMILY FAILOGS. 
 
 to set anybody's teeth on edge were every 
 moment getting worse and worse, and it was 
 evident that something was about to happen. 
 Sir Josiah would gladly have sent the dis- 
 agreeable, and, for ought He knew, dangerous 
 charge into some other part of the house, 
 but for very shame ; he dared not send 
 amongst the ladies, or servants of his family, 
 what he certainly was afraid to have him- 
 self ; and so, expecting a catastrophe, and 
 anxiously hoping for the return of the in- 
 ventor, there sat the amateur in mechanics, 
 looking as little like a mere quiet country 
 baronet, who had nothing on earth to do but 
 to spend his money, as could well be. 
 
 It cannot, however, be denied, that no 
 country gentleman however extravagant, had 
 ever hit upon a more expensive amusement. 
 He was at that moment engaged on the 
 particularly disagreeable employment of 
 looking over his accounts ; I do believe more 
 than one person in this world has been 
 tempted to wish, there was no such thing as
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 83 
 
 accounts I at all events a young lady was 
 once overheard to make the observation to 
 another who perfectly agreed with her. 
 
 Sir Josiah looked from his expense books 
 to his banker's book, and upon the whole he 
 did not much like the look of either, thousfh 
 he could not but observe to the credit of his 
 managing wife, that the sums he had been 
 called upon to give to household matters, were 
 very much more moderate than those which 
 he had paid towards the furtherance of sun- 
 dry infallible schemes. 
 
 A sanguine temperament is in common life 
 a blessing indeed ; it urges the happy pro- 
 prietor on to success, it makes him overcome 
 difficulties, and provides him with hope under 
 all discouragements, but when that tempera- 
 ment is joined to a speculative turn of mind, 
 the advantages of always being led to sup- 
 pose things are for the best, when they are 
 really very decidedly for the worst, is rather 
 problematical. 
 
 The father of the pretty Isabelle had, on 
 that morning, a particular reason for looking
 
 84 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 into his affairs ; and unsatisfactory as his 
 inspection had turned out, his spirits were 
 by no means depressed, nor was his love of 
 speculation in any way damped. He had 
 received a letter from one of his manufac- 
 turing friends, a Mr. Murdoch, which was 
 couched in the following terms : 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " You will be pleased to hear that 
 our plan is progressing fast, Skriggs is most 
 active and everything goes well ; but I now 
 write, for the purpose of recommending to 
 your notice, my friend, Mr. Simmons, one of 
 the cleverest men in England; he has a plan 
 ready to be put into execution, which he will 
 fully explain to you himself ; he is unfortu- 
 nately too poor to bring his admirable in- 
 vention forward at his own expense ; and I 
 have taken the liberty of sending him to 
 you, assuring him that you are possessed of 
 all the knowledge ot a practical man, joined 
 to the greatest and most enlightened liber-
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 85 
 
 alitj. A few thousands judiciously advanced 
 at once, would with proper arrangements be 
 the making of more than one fortune ; of 
 course should you come to any agreement 
 with Simmons, I shall be ready to join; and 
 though very busy at this time, shall give to 
 any orders you may send to my house of 
 business, my best and earliest attention. 
 With gratitude for past favours and the con- 
 fident hope that this may prove very advan- 
 tageous to all concerned in it. 
 
 '* I remain, sir, 
 " Your obedient humble servant, 
 " AlexAx\der Murdoch." 
 
 The excitement of something new was 
 always agreeable to Sir Josiah ; he liked to 
 sit in judgment upon clever things, and to 
 be listened to with deference by clever men, 
 ( who generally got something by it ! ) and now, 
 just when he really had rather overshot the 
 mark in money matters ; to have a scheme 
 proposed, which was to be advantageous, 
 though he did not exactly see how, was really
 
 86 FAMILY FAILLNGS. 
 
 very agreeable, and he involuntarily rubbed 
 his hands at his own thoughts; though looking 
 at the letter coolly, and with uninterested 
 eyes, it appeared rather that Sir Josiah was 
 to advance money to be laid out in orders to 
 Mr. Murdoch ; than anything else ! this was 
 the real pith of the letter; but it totally 
 escaped the worthy baronet's notice, who saw 
 nothing but a certain prospect of interest for 
 the present, and advantage for the future. 
 His reverie was broken by a more than 
 usually disagreeable noise from the grinding 
 machine, which being very sudden, rather 
 startled him, and he was prevented from 
 going off again into his golden visions by a 
 decided and rather bullying knock at the 
 door ; (peoples' knocks are so very character- 
 istic) and Mr. Simmons was announced. 
 
 He was a tall, slight bowing man, with a 
 very high, bald forehead, a keen, but rather 
 wild blue eye, and a peculiarly uncertain 
 smile ; sometimes satirical, sometimes very 
 sad, and at times really prepossessing ; it was 
 the leading point in his face, that flickering
 
 FAMILY FAILLXGS. 87 
 
 and changing smile ; — it attracted and re- 
 pelled by turns, but on the whole there was 
 a something in it of doubtful meaning — he 
 came forward in a timid manner, but when 
 he met the frank and hearty welcome of his 
 future patron, he recovered a kind of confi- 
 dence, his manner seemed to be as changing 
 as his smile. Whilst listening to the good 
 baronet's polite assurances, that Mr. Murdoch's 
 recommendations were enough to secure him 
 his best attention to " anything, so clever a 
 man might have to say,'' his sharp glances 
 had taken in the whole of the extraordinary 
 furniture of the room ; he had listened both to 
 Sir Josiah, and his machines ; and had fully 
 made up his mind, as to the manner of man 
 with whom he had to deal. 
 
 Necessity had taught Mr. Simmons the art 
 of reading character however well concealed ; 
 and that of the learned amateur was so easy 
 of observation, that there could be no merit 
 in seeing what was so open to the view : he 
 felt he must enlist into his service, the
 
 88 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 benevolence and vanity of his attentive 
 listener. 
 
 " I am a man, Sir Josiah, who has long 
 been struggling with no common difficulties," 
 — be saw a certain coldness upon his pat- 
 ron's face, and continued accordingly, " no 
 common difficulties — of science! I was a 
 schoolmaster, and in instructing others I 
 may own I learnt much thoroughly ; but I 
 was, unluckily for me, a man of one idea — it 
 haunted me, it rose, it walked, it slept with 
 me, and you will sympathise in this ! it was 
 a love for chemistry and mechanics ; this by 
 degrees took up a form, an individuality/' 
 Sir Josiah did not look as if he quite 
 understood him, and the speaker lowered the 
 tone of his eloquence. " In short, I became 
 practical, I consorted with practical men, I 
 made improvements. Sir Josiah — and I made 
 money !" 
 
 " Indeed ; wonderful !" replied his listener 
 " I too have loved mechanics ; people bring 
 me, as you see, and I may say as you can 
 hear,^' for at that moment the grinding
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 89 
 
 machine made a long whizzing sound of a 
 nature altogether new ; " all sorts of new 
 inventions for my opinion and approval, but 1 
 cannot recall to my memory any one of them 
 that has exactly answered ; that is, made 
 money ! no not one," concluded he, after a 
 moment's thought. 
 
 " Yes, I made money,'' said Mr. Simmons, 
 " and the fact urged me on, not to an anxiety 
 for wealth, but to a greater thirst for science ; 
 my one idea returned, but I had more know- 
 ledge, I had more experience, I had more 
 help, but above all more means ; the sinews 
 of practical science, as of war. Sir Josiah,'' 
 and the speaker gave one of his very doubt- 
 ful smiles. 
 
 " Your one idea, what was it 1" said the 
 listener, " an invention 1 I have invented 
 things too, and spent money on them, but 
 Tve given it up ; your pardon, I have inter- 
 rupted you." 
 
 " I felt convinced of full success, I made 
 experiment upon experiment, and had just 
 reached, as I thought, the point I wished to
 
 90 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 gain, when the manufacturer in whose hands 
 all my unfinished plans were placed, broke 
 suddenly and died : I rescued little, for I had 
 embarked the whole of my savings in his 
 house — I had entered into partnership with 
 him three months before the crash." 
 
 " Dear me \" replied the Baronet, " how 
 very, very unfortunate ; and your plans V 
 
 ** I had not then, nor have I now, the 
 means of carrying them out ; but though at 
 one time forced to take pupils. Sir Josiah, I 
 am a man of no mean origin ; and not long 
 after the fatal event which dashed ray hopes, 
 a distant relation died, and I found myself 
 unexpectedly possessed of property as heir- 
 at-law ; with this I have begun afresh — all 
 was to do again, and now ; I want only a 
 coadjutor, an active, practical mind, and a 
 few thousand pounds, to bring triumphantly 
 to light, the work of years." 
 
 Mr. Simmons paused, and the colour faded 
 from his hollow cheeks ; whatever his faults 
 might be, he was an enthusiast : an evident, 
 believer in himself.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 91 
 
 Such feelings are very catching, and his 
 listener sat with an excited look varying 
 with the varying tale, and intensely interested, 
 for the hundredth time, in his new friend 
 and his new scheme ; it never struck him 
 till Mr. Simmons paused, that he had not an 
 idea as yet, what the scheme was. 
 
 Mr. Simmons went on. 
 
 " Ah ! if you knew the weary days and 
 sleepless nights ; the thought of months, set 
 all at naught by a defect in base material ; 
 the difficulty of reconciling natural laws 
 which must be made to work together at 
 our will ; the wearying obstacles of Nature ; 
 and the wearing opposition of one's fellow- 
 men ; the sneering discouragement, the care- 
 less indifference of the world, who will here- 
 after profit by what they think they may 
 despise ! the pioneer of science has indeed 
 a path more full of briars and thorns, than 
 that which opens to the pioneer of undis- 
 covered lands. The briars and thorns have 
 power to pierce the very heart of him, who 
 seeks to benefit mankind."
 
 92 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 Listening to this, the good, kind baronet 
 was touched ; for Mr. Simmons^ with his pale, 
 worn face, and blue eyes lighted up with 
 the unmistakable evidence of mind, whilst 
 his expressive mouth was curling with sur- 
 pressed bitterness, was no uninteresting 
 person — those who speak from their own 
 hearts, invariably touch the feelings of those 
 to whom they speak ; and Sir Josiah was al- 
 together fascinated: although the flights of 
 his new acquaintance were rather too much 
 into the clouds, he was in earnest : and there 
 is no spell like that. 
 
 " But now,'' continued the ambitious man 
 of science, '* now I shall look for better 
 and brighter days ; my toils are drawing to 
 a close, and the reward is almost in my 
 grasp — I have made known to many of the 
 scientific world, my plans and practical 
 success ; I have applied to many leading 
 manufacturers and met their approval, and 
 have received offers of their assistance ; I 
 preferred those of our mutual acquaintances 
 Murdoch, and by his wish and at his recom-
 
 FAMILY FAILIIi^GS. 93 
 
 mendation, I am come to lay my plan before 
 you, as an acknowledged judge ; as one whose 
 wealth has often been devoted to the aid of 
 the struggling sons of science — not, Sir 
 Josiah Walgrave,^^ said Mr. Simmons rising 
 from his seat, and assuming an air of proud 
 and conscious independance which made the 
 master of the house feel that he was listen- 
 ing to one fully his equal ; " not that I 
 am about to plead for your assistance,'^ and 
 his smile was full of scorn at the idea, ''not 
 that I am come here to ask you for your 
 money ;" and Sir Josiah almost cowered 
 under the imputation that he had imagined 
 such a thing ; *' I have come here as to one 
 whose opinion I have been taught to value ; 
 for advice, it may even be for help ;'' and 
 here his smile was quite mysterious in its 
 expression, '^ and if on hearing my purpose ; 
 the confirmed, the matured purpose of long 
 years; if upon the knowledge that I have 
 private friends ready to forward it, that I 
 have influential friends ready to procure for 
 me the patronage of government, if I can
 
 94 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 bring the thing fullj to bear, if upon proof 
 of this, all this, your knowledge should lead 
 you to approve, and your judgment to adopt 
 my scheme. In such a case the capital you 
 might be tempted to mX*," the emphasis 
 upon this word, the tone and smile of 
 bitter derision stamped it as absurd — '' if, 
 I repeat, you should be tempted to risk a 
 portion of unemployed capital ; it shall 
 be repaid, fully repaid. Sir Josiah, and the 
 advantages which must accrue, will make us 
 more than rich.^' 
 
 The speaker paused with real emotion at 
 the picture he had drawn ; and looked so 
 exhausted that his fascinated host hastened 
 to bring some refreshment from a cellaret at 
 hand ; he almost feared that Mr. Simmons 
 must be ill. The enthusiast had shown a 
 consummate knowledge of human nature 
 in thus working up the feelings and interest 
 of Sir Josiah, before he disclosed his scheme. 
 With a less shallow and excitable nature, he 
 would have acted otherwise ; but all in deep 
 earnest as he was, his judgment was still
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 95 
 
 cool enough to see the way most open to suc- 
 cess, and to pursue it with unerring instinct ; 
 his own lately acquired inheritance was em- 
 barked in the venture, and the coadjutor 
 with money whom he now sought to gain, 
 was to him of vital necessity ; before he had 
 so much as given a sketch of his invention, 
 his point was gained. 
 
 He next unfolded paper upon paper ; plan on 
 plan; calculation upon calculation. Mechanics 
 and Chemistry were blended to a nicety, and 
 with no ordinary mastery over their intrica- 
 cies ; step upon step, he led Sir Josiah with 
 opening eyes and wondering mind, through 
 the mazes he had so long and patiently 
 threaded himself. Plausible were his argu- 
 ments, more plausible his perfected arrange- 
 ments ; everything was clear — everything 
 was capable of mathematical proof — and 
 quite as much astonished as delighted, and 
 as bewildered as convinced, Sir Josiah lis- 
 tened whilst Mr. Simmons reasoned thus. — 
 Here they were stopped in their career of 
 conversation.
 
 96 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 Deeply engaged as were the inventor and 
 his patron, they could not but observe the 
 interruptions occasioned by the detestable not- 
 to-be-stopped machine for grinding ; it was 
 really quite wonderful that an affair no 
 bigger than half a large table, should or 
 could make such abominable and unearthly 
 noises ; it had now changed its shrieks and 
 scrapings, for a series of bangs and jars which 
 were quite intolerable ; and Sir Josiah was 
 obliged to detail the whole history of it, to 
 Mr. Simmons ; it being absolutely necessary 
 for him to explain, that he only tolerated 
 such an annoyance, because he dared not 
 send it away, and could not dop it 
 
 The man of science and mechanics, 
 smiled one of his incomprehensible smiles of 
 something that was very like derision, and 
 offered his services to discover the screw 
 which would remedy the matter ; he ap- 
 proached the model which still continued to 
 crash and bang ; he touched a screw or 
 spring ; the noises changed, to something 
 rather worse ! Mr. Simmons again essayed
 
 FAMILY F.AILIXGS. 97 
 
 his. skill — there were was a stop — all sound 
 had ceased — he turned triumphantly round 
 to Sir Josiah, who bowed and smiled a pre- 
 mature applause ; for at that moment a spring 
 gave way in that abominable model of 
 a machine ; some part of it broke suddenly, 
 the spring flew out, scattering fragments in 
 its progress; the angle at which it was pro- 
 jected, unfortunately met the head of Mr. 
 Simmons ; he staggered with the blow, fell 
 stumbling on a chair ; the chair and Mr. 
 Simmons fell upon Sir Josiah Walgrave who 
 was rushing to the rescue ; he staggered, and 
 the whole house shook with the joint over- 
 throw of the poor Baronet and his new and 
 learned friend ; two chairs, one table, and 
 more than one machine ! 
 
 Horace Leigh was chatting merrily "with 
 the ladies in the drawing-room, having as in 
 duty bound paid them a visit after the dinner 
 party ; when the tremendous blowing up, 
 and the heavy and repeated falls that fol- 
 lowed closely on it, seriously alarmed them 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 FAMILY FAILIXGS. 
 
 all ; the}^ started up. Ladj Walgrave 
 screamed out — 
 
 " Oh, my poor husband," as she rushed 
 from the room. 
 
 Horace instantly followed her, hoping to 
 be of use ; the two girls stood for a moment 
 in helpless terror, and then they too rushed 
 down, and entering the long forbidden room, 
 were horrified to find their kind, indulgent 
 father stretched on the floor — a chair, and 
 the model that had been on it had fallen in 
 such a way that he evidently could not rise 
 without assistance, and poor Isabelle shrieked 
 as she saw that the tall stranger had also 
 fallen with his whole weight upon him, 
 and that her own dear father's face -was 
 streaked with blood — the poor stranger was 
 with difficulty raised, for he was quite 
 stunned — Isabelle and her mother, assisted 
 of Course by Horace, raised Sir Josiah, and 
 to their infinite delight they found he had 
 sufi*ered no material injury ; the blood upon 
 his face was a mere scratch from some glass
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 99 
 
 which had been upset and broken, and he 
 was sound and unhurt ; but it was a very 
 different case with Mr. Simmons, he had 
 been struck, poor man, by the full force of 
 the broken spring, and remedies were ne- 
 cessary to his full restoration ; but when 
 the excitement and alarm were over, the scene 
 presented was ludicrous in the extreme — the 
 overthrow occasioned by the fall of two 
 large and heavy men, had been very general ; 
 one chair or table had knocked over another ; 
 for both gentlemen had staggered about in 
 the attempt to save themselves carrying 
 everything before them ! One thing was 
 truly provoking, and produced an oath, an 
 actual oath from the quiet lips even of Sir 
 Josiah ; that terrible machine for grinding 
 although its spring was broken, had, by some 
 strange chance, some power still left ; for 
 mutilated and exposed to view, its wheels 
 were going still ! in anything but mute 
 derision of the mischief it had done. 
 
 This was too bad ! 
 
 Poor Mr. Simmons had by this time re- 
 F 2
 
 100 ' FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 covered himself sufficiently to join in the 
 laugh at this discovery, and peace, if not 
 order, was at length restored. 
 
 As Horace Leigh walked home, he could 
 but remember with glistening eyes, that at 
 the first alarm, the irresistible impulse of the 
 gentle Isabelle had been to fly to him for 
 a moment, and with a look that haunted 
 him exclaim — 
 
 " Oh, Horace, save my father r
 
 FAMILY FAILINOS. 101 
 
 CHAPTER V, 
 
 We must now return to the old house of 
 Leigh. 
 
 " My dear aunt," said Luke Leigh, on 
 the Tuesday which followed the declara- 
 tion of her intentions, '' can I be of any 
 use in escorting you home on Thursday V 
 
 " I wont deny," replied Mrs. Yernon, 
 ''that I should gladly accept your kind 
 offices, for at ray age travelling has its in- 
 conveniences ; and though Dulton makes 
 himself useful about the luggage, I should 
 be really obliged if you will bear me com-
 
 102 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 pany, and of course I shall hope that you 
 will stay with me as long as you like, or 
 can find anything to amuse you." 
 
 " Thank you ; I accept your invitation," 
 said Luke, with a glow of satisfaction 
 actually lighting up his sullen face. 
 
 Ad Mrs. Vernon, too, looked pleased. 
 She thought it really was a very kind atten- 
 tion ; he was not in the habit of paying 
 kind attentions, and under the circumstan- 
 ces, just at this very time, when really he 
 might have been justifiably hurt or offended, 
 at her decided preference of his younger 
 brother, it was very remarkable ! So amia- 
 ble, so forgiving, so very different to anything 
 she could have expected from Luke; 
 actually to leave his shooting and his horses, 
 (though certainly she had both at High Elms) 
 was really quite unselfish. 
 
 We will assure our readers privately, that 
 the last position remains to be proved. 
 
 The journey, accomplished in the days 
 of posting, when people could stand up in 
 a carriage to see what was the matter, with-
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. - 103 
 
 out having their heads cut off as by a guil- 
 lotiue, which in these days of railroads has 
 happened, and may happen any day ; the 
 journey in question, was broken by one 
 night spent at an inn ; and during the even- 
 ing the disinherited nephew took very con- 
 siderable pains to make himself agreeable ; 
 as an unpredecented fact in the annals of 
 their relationship he offered to read to her ; 
 and she acceded to the proposal, for to one 
 so keen and clever as the well-educated old 
 lady, there was nothing very interesting in 
 his conversation. 
 
 On the following day about noon they 
 arrived at their destination, the only events of 
 any consequence having been one very unsteady 
 post-boy, and the fall of one poor overworked 
 horse, which severely injured itself in going 
 down a steep hill ; on these two occasions 
 Luke*s presence had been really of use, as 
 he wanted rather the softer than the more 
 manly virtues. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon^s house was situated within 
 six miles of the county town ; which county
 
 104 FAMILY FAILIJ^GS. 
 
 it was, is a very unimportant fact ; the house 
 was an Elizabethan mansion, which had 
 passed from its old owners because none were 
 left who could afford to keep it up ; one 
 extravagant yoang master after another had 
 brought it to the hammer, though fortunately 
 before the glorious old timber which crowned 
 the hills, or nestled in the little valleys of 
 the very extensive park, had fallen a sacrifice 
 to their necessities. 
 
 As the carriage drove up towards the 
 house, Luke could hardly restrain a sigh as 
 he looked at the famous avenue of elms, 
 which was the pride of the place, and from 
 which indeed it took its name ; they were 
 standing there, with the last autumnal tints 
 of a very late season still lingering upon 
 them, and the deer were standing with 
 their heads raised, in that startled attitude 
 which is so beautiful, and then raced away 
 at the nearer approach of the four smoking 
 greys ; Luke Leigh did not restrain a sigh, 
 for it came deep and audible even to his 
 companion. Poor Mrs. Yernon could not
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 105 
 
 conceal from herself that she was the cause 
 of it — and her kind heart really suffered a 
 pang ; she felt so very awkward ! 
 
 For two or three days the aunt saw very 
 little of her nephew; her horses and her 
 keepers were at his disposal ; and she 
 thought nothing of his absence all the day, 
 but she was rather astonished that for two 
 of the three days he had not dined at home ; 
 the first lime he told her that Mr. Langton, 
 a neighbouring squire, had insisted on his 
 dining with him, the next time he did not 
 say where he was to spend the evening — and 
 she did not press the question. After this 
 for a few days he devoted himself so entirely 
 to her, playing backgammon, ecarte, or 
 anything she pleased, that her suspicions 
 were roused ; it was evident he must have 
 some motive for his conduct ; could it be 
 that he wished to supplant his brother, that 
 he was trying to make her reverse the de- 
 termination which was so greatly against his 
 interest'^ Surely he could not hope she 
 would go from her word I and the old lady
 
 106 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 drew herself up at the very imagination of 
 the possibility of such a thing ; what could 
 it mean ? and perfectly puzzled for once in 
 her life to know whot motive such conduct 
 could have, she rang the bell to give a few 
 final orders to the house-keeper for a dinner- 
 party which she had arranged for the mor- 
 row ; she was quite tired of Luke's company, 
 alone, and though she disliked the trouble 
 of entering into society now, and l;iad for 
 some time given up going out, she had de- 
 termined on giving a series of parties, and 
 had asked one or two families, and some 
 young men who were acquaintances of Luke's 
 — he had no friends — to spend two or three 
 days. 
 
 Luke Leigh had played his cards with un- 
 wonted care and cleverness, for the assem- 
 bling of the very people who were expected 
 was one of the objects of his visit, and one of 
 the motives of his unheard of attention to 
 the fancies and wishes of another. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon had, amongst others, received
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 107 
 
 the following answer to her invitation to Mr. 
 Langton and his daughter. 
 
 "My Dear Madam/' 
 
 *' As Charlotte is now staying in 
 Yorkshire, perhaps you will allow me to 
 bring, in her place, my youngest daughter, 
 Emily, she has just left the scijool-room, and 
 I am anxious to introduce her to my kind 
 old friend and neighbour, 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 "Jjujs' Langtojs.'* 
 
 Mrs. Vernon had been much disappointed, 
 for Ciiarlotte Langton was an established 
 favourite of hers, and she hai no fancy for 
 shy young ladies jusi oat of th3 scho d-room ; 
 however she comforted herself with the idea 
 that it made no difference in the table; 
 which always appears of more importance 
 than anything else, in the country : if there 
 are but the right number of ladies and 
 gentlemen, v/hat does it matter what they
 
 108 FAMILY FAILl.NGS. 
 
 are ? agreeable or not ; for in the country I 
 verily believe that people meet to eat, and not 
 to talk. 
 
 The distance being but short, those who 
 were to remain the night, arrived at the 
 dinner hour instead of dressing in the house. 
 Mrs. Vernon and Luke were awaiting their 
 arrival. 
 
 " Good gracious Luke how well you louk ! 
 an evening dress most certainly improves you-; 
 you must do the honours for me Luke, of 
 course, as master of the house." 
 
 And he, poor fellow, actually shrank away 
 at this unlucky speech, for he was not to be 
 the master of that house ! 
 
 And Mrs. Vernon never found out what 
 she had said, but went on carelessly. 
 
 "I'm sorry Charlotte Langtonis not coming, 
 what sort of creature is the young one, 
 Luke r 
 
 " You will see her aunt yourself," answered 
 he in so odd a voice, that she looked in his 
 face, but in that dim, before dinner, light, she 
 could not see his features ; the fact being that
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 109 
 
 he had studiously placed himself in the 
 shade. 
 
 " Pray have you seen her, Luke V^ 
 
 " Yes," said the nephew, as if the question 
 choked him. 
 
 '* Is she vei-y shy ? I hope not,'' said the 
 aunt. 
 
 " Shy 1 is she shy V repeated he as if he 
 did not know the meaning of the words, 
 V yes, shy ; no certainly not shy.^' 
 
 And Mrs. Vernon again looked in his face. 
 
 " Mr. and Miss Langton," announced the 
 butler. , 
 
 " It is a long time since you have been so 
 gay as this, my dear old friend," said the 
 still handsome Mr. Langton, " pray let me 
 ask your friendship for my daughter." 
 
 The moment Mrs. Vernon looked at, her 
 she understood all Luke's odd tones and odder 
 ways, for Emily Laugton, as she smiled r.nd 
 put her tiny hand out to meet that of the 
 old lady-, was every tiling that can be fancied 
 most lovely and fascinating. A tall and 
 elegant figure, with a child's flice, finished
 
 110 FAMILY FAILLNGS. 
 
 manners with a child's merry laugh ; the 
 grace, the simplicity, the thoughtlessness of 
 a child of five, with all the attractions of a 
 woman : such was the chosen of Luke Leigh. 
 
 How very odd it is that plain and dis- 
 agreeable men do always choose, and generally 
 Avin, the prettiest and most fascinating 
 women ! 
 
 '' Emily Langton shy !" The old lady 
 could not help smiling at her fears upon that 
 head, as the young girl threw herself down 
 upon the sofa by her, and talked away with 
 all tiie undoubling confidence of a pet ; too 
 lively, and too laughing, she might be, but 
 look fur hours, and you could find no other 
 fault. 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Vernon ; papa told me T 
 should like you, but I had no idea you would 
 be so delightful,'' she had all but said, *' such 
 a duck of an old lady," and she did say so 
 befijre long ! 
 
 " Are you coming to the Archery Ball V 
 she continued ; (such a question to Mrs. 
 Vernon ;) " do come, I'm sure you would enjoy
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. Ill 
 
 it SO ; I shall ; it is mv first hall, just fancy 
 that; if you would only go 1 ao declare I 
 should like it twice as well ; I've lost n:y 
 heart to you/' 
 
 In spite of the pretty nonsense thpt .she 
 talked : the laughing afiectiou of her sweet 
 blue eyes, the dancing of her sunny curls, 
 the elastic movements of her slight figure had 
 such an irresistible charm about tLem, that 
 the old lady became, like every one who saw 
 her, too much fascinated to judge her harshly. 
 
 When the next party made their appear- 
 ance, Emily left the sofa to an older guest, 
 and threw herself into a seat with a pretty* 
 air of childish amusement, at finding herself 
 in such a respectable ar.ii chair; and Luke 
 Leigh spoke to her. 
 
 It was a very strange and amusing spec- 
 tacle to Mrs. Yernou, to see him act the lover ; 
 a curious problem in natural philosophy to 
 see the emineiitly selfish man in love ; she 
 watched the careful politeness of the indolent^ 
 the trembling anxiety of the bullying Luke 
 Leigh, and smiled ; half bitterly, and half
 
 112 Family failings. 
 
 rejoicing that he had a heart, a fact that she 
 had disbelieved for years. 
 
 Emily Langton laughed and talked, and 
 teased, and plagued her lover, for he had 
 already hinted he loved her, and sported 
 vvith his impetuous feelings, little imagining 
 with what edge tools she was so carelessly 
 toying in playing with the teiriper of Luke 
 Leigh ! to her he was all softness, all acqui- 
 escence, she had not an idea of his real 
 character, and what girl can have a glimmer- 
 ing of the truth, when a man is so bent on 
 deceiving her. 
 
 ''My goodness; what a dreadfully rude 
 speech for you ; to own you don't like ladies, 
 to say that, to me.^' 
 
 " I do not like ladies," replied Luke, 
 " not even you ; I do not like you Emily ; 
 oh, if I might but tell you once, that — " 
 
 " Dinner is ready '' announced the servant 
 close in their ears. 
 
 And as the discomforted gentleman v\^alked 
 off as master of the house, to give his arm to 
 an old lady, who was quite deaf, he left
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS 113 
 
 Emily laughing at the unromantic conclusion 
 to his speech. 
 
 In the course of her three days' visit Mrs. 
 Vernon became convinced, that when a selfish 
 man is in love, he is more in love than other 
 people ; but this is not wonderful, as in fact 
 any one deviation from natural character is 
 always carried to extremes, and besides, such 
 a person is more eager in the search after 
 what will contribute to the fulfilment of his 
 own wishes, and will therefore make greater 
 sacrifices to attain the object of them. 
 
 Luke Leigh was, hour by hour, still more 
 in love, but he did not intend to propose till 
 after the Archery ball, for he wished to see 
 if others would admire her as much as he 
 did, and he had no fears of a rival ; he wished 
 to have his choice confirmed, but had been 
 too much accustomed to carrying every point 
 he wished to gain, to have a doubt of his own 
 success. 
 
 Emily was decidedly pleased and flattered; 
 he was the first man who had ever been so 
 devoted to her, and the advantage he gained
 
 114 FAMILY FAILLVQS. 
 
 by that, was very great ; she really thought 
 him very delightful, and found it all highly 
 amusing ; she was therefore in the highest 
 spirits when she entered the ball-room, for 
 in addition to the general enjoyment of the 
 evening, she was sure of one source of 
 gratified vanity. 
 
 With her appearance Luke was more than 
 satisfied, she was the belle of the room ; 
 every one asked to be introduced to her, every 
 one spoke in raptures of her ; a regiment of 
 dragoons were quartered in the neighbourhood 
 and the whole of the ofiicers, without excep- 
 tion, fell in love with her, at least ihey told 
 her so ! The man who meant to be her 
 husband, looked on with a proud and swelling 
 heart, but even he had sense enough to see 
 he had no time to lose ; he must secure his 
 prize before she found out her own value ; he 
 watched her flirting right and left, so merrily, 
 but he had no idea of being jealous, he 
 thought too highly of himself lor that ; and 
 then she knew him so much better than she 
 did the other fljittcrers round her, that she
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 115 
 
 turned to him with greater favour ; as they 
 were dancing the last dance of the evening, 
 she declared to him in a mock confidence, 
 
 " Only one thing to-night has disappointed 
 me, if it had not been for that, I should 
 have enjoyed it beyond words ; but I could 
 not make Mrs. Vernon come, and that was 
 very hard upon me — people always do what 
 I ask them !'' 
 
 " It would be quite impossible to resist a 
 wish of yours," said Luke, gazing fondly on 
 the lovely young face, looking out from its 
 waving curls, and he spoke with a deep 
 sincerity — just for the moment. 
 
 She looked up in his face with a keen and 
 enquiring look — and she believed him. 
 
 The next morning Emily Langton promised 
 to take Luke Leigh, for better, or for worse, 
 as it might happen. 
 
 Mr. Langton was much pleased ; he 
 thought it was a midoh too good to be re- 
 fused : and so the accepted Luke wrote to his 
 father, to whom he had not thought it neces-
 
 116 FAMILY FAILLNGS. 
 
 sary to own his attachment till now ; and 
 Emily wrote to her sister. 
 
 " You Dear Steady Old Charlotte, 
 
 " Though you have been engaged 
 so long ; I shall be married before you ; I 
 fancy I see your face ! I, little I, am going 
 to be married to Mr. Leigh. We saw him 
 last spring, do you remember ? when he was 
 staying with that darling old lady, you are 
 so fond of, Mrs. Vernon ; 1 did'nt know her 
 then, but I do now, and really I am as fond 
 of her as if she was my aunt, which she will 
 be, thank goodness 1 You had seen Mr. 
 Leigh before the spring, but I had not ; well 
 yesterday he asked me to be his wife, and I 
 said yes ; you have'nt an idea how compli- 
 mentary he is ! — I can't think what you were 
 so solemn about, when James Gray offered 
 to you ; / think it all great fun ; and some 
 daj, when the old squire is dead, I have 
 never seen him you know, so you need not 
 scold ; when the old squire is gone, we shall
 
 FAMILY FAlLiyaS. 117 
 
 have a beautiful old place, and I am to have 
 such a horse to ride, and Luke has promised 
 me a harp — an odd name, Luke ! but that 
 can't be helped. He has written home to 
 ask leave to marry, and he sajs his father, 
 who has never refused him anything, will 
 not refuse him me ! 
 
 " I am grown so grand and important you 
 can't think ; and you may lecture away, 
 dear sis., as much as ever you like, for you 
 may think me wrong — He wont. Only 
 imagine how delightful to live with a person 
 all your life, who thinks everything you do 
 is right ! 
 
 " He really is a very delightful, kind, ami- 
 able creature, always agrees with everything 
 I say ; and the family diamonds are great 
 beauties. 
 
 '* It is very strange, and very unlucky, but 
 that dear, darling, old aunt of his, has made 
 his brother Horace heir to all her property. 
 You must remember him ; and I recollect 
 we liked him much the best. How one 
 does alter one's opinions, to be sure.
 
 118 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 " And now, dear Charlotte, write me a 
 long lecture in reply, beginning — ' How can 
 you treat the most important action of your 
 life with such unthinking \e\ity f write 
 anything you please, for I love you deeply 
 and dearly, and I know that you love me ; 
 only I cannot think ; you think enough for 
 two ; I am content to live and laugh. 
 
 " Your most affectionate sister, 
 
 *' Emily Langton." 
 
 " Postscript — I keep for this and your 
 most secret ear the dear delightful fact, that 
 I expect that Mr. Leigh will always let me 
 have my way I Goodbye.'' 
 
 So wrote the gay and giddy girl of seven- 
 teen, who had never known a care or a 
 cross, and never imagined she could meet 
 with either. 
 
 Luke on his part sought an interview 
 with Mrs. "Vernon, for the purpose of inform- 
 ing her of his hoped-for happiness.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 119 
 
 She knew perfectly vrell what he was 
 going to tell her, but she let him look sillj, 
 and remain awkwardly silent, as long as it 
 suited him — she would not help him in the 
 least, for she rather enjoyed his embarrass- 
 ment. 
 
 " Well, nephew, have you anything to 
 say," she asked at last. 
 
 " You must have perceived, dear madam," 
 
 " Oh, yes — I see what you came here 
 for !" said the old lady, drily. 
 
 " And you have seen ray excuse, dear 
 aunt," replied he, with more readiness 
 than usual. 
 
 Love certainly reverses a person's char- 
 acter — it makes the stupid witty, and it 
 silences the talker. 
 
 '' Well V asked Mrs. Vernon, shortly. 
 
 " You must have seen my attachment." 
 
 " Any one could see it, Luke." 
 
 " I have long loved her," said he, ener- 
 getically. 
 
 " How long 1" asked the aunt. 
 
 " Since the spring," answered Luke,
 
 120 FAMILY FAILIIs^GS. 
 
 gravely — " since last April, when I was 
 here and saw her first ; I felt she must be 
 mine, / could not be happy without her'' 
 
 " Will she be happy with you f " asked 
 the old lady, quaintly. 
 
 " Happy ! I hope so, I will make her 
 happy," said he, in a heartfelt tone. 
 
 " You men always imagine you can make 
 a woman happy," said Mrs. Vernon — *' but 
 you don^t always do it." 
 
 *' She shall be the happiest creature in the 
 world ; so young, so pliant, I can make of 
 her what I choose; and she will have no 
 will but mine." 
 
 " Don't be too sure of that," said the 
 old lady ; " she is the most fascinating 
 creature in the world, but not the cipher 
 you suppose." 
 
 "She is perfection," said the lover; 
 " and when she promised to be mine I felt 
 life had no more to give !" 
 
 *' She has accepted you, has she V asked 
 Mrs. Vernon, with an intentional touch of 
 astonishment in her voice.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 121 
 
 *' She has this morning ; and I hope, 
 dear aunt, that you will approve my choice ; 
 and wish me joy." 
 
 " I think you are a lucky man — a very 
 lucky man," replied the old lady ; " but 
 she is young and giddy, Luke ; she has 
 both wit and will; be kind to her, be ten- 
 der with her, as you have been hitherto, and 
 all will go well ; but treat her harshly, show 
 her your temper, Luke, and I, for one, shall 
 not expect to see you happy. However, 
 with this warning, I shall wish you joy. I 
 shall take care that one thousand pounds 
 shall wait your acceptance on your wedding 
 day ; and from this hour your pretty Emily 
 shall be a neice to me." 
 
 The old lady could not help being satiri- 
 cal, neither could she help being kind, upon 
 this interesting occasion. 
 
 '* Then I may bring her to you to-mor- 
 row 1" said the nephew, delighted that he 
 had got over this formidable interview. 
 
 '* It is for me to call there," replied Mrs. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 Vernon ; *' but your father, Luke, what 
 will he say V 
 
 '* He never denies me anything." 
 
 " You don't wait for his gifts ; you take 
 with the strong hand — take first and ask 
 after, is your motto, Luke/' 
 
 *' In this case I have done so," said the 
 nephew, feeling rebuked by this, the simple 
 truth ; " but my father is so anxious I should 
 marry, at my age — past thirty — it is really 
 time." 
 
 " Why didn't you tell him you thought 
 of Emily; I know you have not done so," 
 said Mrs. Vernon, coldly. 
 
 " I thought," stammered Luke, " that it 
 would spare me a mortification if I was re- 
 fused, and I know he will be too happy to 
 give his consent. Even as things stand now." 
 and he ventured to glance at Mrs. Vernon in 
 a reproachful manner, " it will be easy to 
 manage all business matters ; there may be 
 a difficulty with Horace, perhaps." 
 
 " Fear none with him," replied his aunt ;
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 123 
 
 " he is not selfish, Luke, he will not stand 
 in the way of another's happiness.'' 
 
 *' Then all will be easily managed, and I 
 may soon call Emily my wife," said Luke, 
 as he wrung his aunt's hand in thanks for 
 her kindness, and hastily leaving the room he 
 mounted a horse and gallopped off to Lang- 
 ton Park. 
 
 A few days past, rather anxious ones to 
 Mr. Langton, as his daughter had but little 
 fortune, and the heir of Leigh was 
 really so good a match that his father might 
 possibly object to Emily as a daughter-in- 
 law ; when the expected letters did arrive 
 Emily caught up hers. 
 
 " A scolding from Charlotte," was her 
 laughing exclamation, and she found what 
 she expected — not to say deserved — in 
 answer to her flighty letter ; but the answer 
 was so kind and sisterly, so truly affec- 
 tionate that after reading it she kissed it 
 again and again. 
 
 Luke left his aunt, to read his letters, not 
 that he had smallest misgiving as to their 
 G 2
 
 124 FAMilY FAir^'GS. 
 
 contents ; but simply because be preferred 
 beirg alone, bis fatber's ran tbus; 
 
 " My dearest boy, 
 
 " So you are going to be 
 married ; I had no idea, nor had your mother, that 
 you were thinking of any one, but we always like 
 you to do as you please, and you ought to marry. I 
 dare say your choice is a very pretty girl, you have 
 such good taste in everything. If your poor, dear 
 aunt had not been so infatuated about Horace you 
 would have been differently situated on this occasion ; 
 but; thank God, you will do very well, and Leigh is 
 large enough to hold us all. I think your brother 
 must be, asked to give up something towards the 
 settlements ; by and bye we must go to London, 
 and talk it all over with him. You must come here to 
 go up with me, for I am old and shaky, Luke, not 
 what I was. We must have your pretty Emily to 
 stay with us, my boy, your mother is writing to that 
 effect, we will make much of her, we never had a 
 daughter. I do not think of giving my consent, 
 you know you have it without asking ; what you 
 think best is always right in your old father's eyes. 
 Give my kind love to your aunt, I dare say she will 
 do something handsome for you — rather sharp your 
 aunt ! but very good in the main, only she certainly 
 is very prejudiced — I have written to Mr. Langton,
 
 FAMILY FAILLNGS. 125 
 
 I have known him so long that it is quite a pleasure 
 to have his daughter for mine — glad you chose her — 
 I remember her mother — very fine woman too — liked 
 her myself once, only I never told your mother, 
 would'nt matter if I did, now she's dead and gone, 
 poor thing ! I wish you joy, my boy, you ought to 
 marry ; I hope she's a good temper, Lulie, a cross 
 wife is the Devil— not that I know much about it — 
 I don't think your dear mother ever said no in her 
 life if I said yes ! Well, I wish you happy, nothing 
 on my part shall be wanting. Thank God I have 
 never been extravagant ! I have paid off, as you 
 know, that mortgage on the home farm, and the Old 
 Leigh acres are clear for you, my boy. You will , 
 have to pay double postage for this, but never mind 
 for once— long letter for me, but my heart is very 
 full. 
 
 " I am your most affectionate father, 
 
 " Francis Leigh." 
 
 Even Luke was touched with this kind 
 and hearty reception of the unexpected 
 daughter-in law he had announced to his 
 father, and his heart almost smote him when 
 he thought he had given him no hint of his 
 intentions, but he soon turned from the un- 
 wonted contemplation of a fault of his own,
 
 126 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 to the idea of the pride and delight with 
 which he should show to his father and 
 mother the prize he had won ; one half of 
 Emily's power over him arose from gratified 
 pride. 
 
 Mr. Leigh's consent w^as couched in very 
 handsome terms to Mr. Langton ; there was 
 a letter from Mrs. Leigh to Emily with 
 which she danced about in delight before 
 she could sit down to answer it, but when 
 she did calm herself sufiiciently, she penned 
 so pretty and feeling an epistle, that no one 
 who had read her letter to her sister would 
 have believed her capable of writing it. 
 
 Sweet Emily Langton, in good hands, 
 might have been very near perfection : as it 
 was she was very happy — for the time being. 
 Everything went smoothly, Luke kept his 
 temper, and Mrs. Vernon kept her own 
 council ; though a dozen times she felt inclined 
 to open Emily's eyes to her fond lover's 
 character ; but she did not ; she hoped that 
 real affection would improve and elevate him 
 into something more worthy of her. The
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. V27 
 
 old iady welcomed her to her heart so warmly 
 that, the next time she saw her, Emily flung 
 her arms round her neck, and kissing her 
 declared that — 
 
 ^' She was such a duck of an aunt, she 
 loved her quite as much as she did Luke,"
 
 128 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 It was quite an affecting scene Luke Leigh's 
 arrival at home ; his old mother threw her- 
 self into his arms and fairly sobbed aloud ; 
 whilst the squire, with his ruddy face and 
 his eyes full of tears, stood grasping his 
 hand in his own. They both doted upon 
 Luke to an extraordinary degree, and this 
 prospect of his marriage — his bringing home 
 a wife, was full of deep and stirring emo- 
 tion to them. 
 
 Luke thought it all *' great humbug f 
 but he allowed himself passively to be
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 129 
 
 kissed bj his mother, and slapped on the 
 back by his father, and then took his old 
 seat by the lire upon a chair he had care- 
 fully chosen for iiis own especisil comfort, 
 placed his feet fairly on the fender, and then 
 began with the full tide of a lover's self- 
 congratulation to describe his Emily. The 
 old people listened, and their faces lighted 
 up with pleisure as he went on. 
 
 " She must be worthy of you, I do 
 think," exclaimed the squire. 
 
 " How I shall love her !" said the gentle 
 Mrs. Leigh. 
 
 " And youil live here, ray boy 1" said 
 the old man, in a delighted tone. 
 
 '* Why I'm afraid we must," said Luke, 
 in a voice which seemed to say, that is the 
 worst of it — " I don't see how it can be 
 otherwise." 
 
 He quite forgot the unkind ii ess o^ the 
 speech, and never saw the sudden chill upon 
 his father's beaming face. 
 
 " I am afraid you must," said the poor 
 squire, instantly adopting, as he always did, 
 G 5
 
 130 FAMILY FAILLNG^. 
 
 the views of his darling son, let them he 
 what they might ; yet he felt hurt that this 
 necessity should be a painful one to Luke. 
 
 " You can't, sir, I suppose, come down 
 with quite enough, to give us such a home 
 as Emily must have V enquired the son. 
 
 " And you would rather be independent 
 of us, Luke — leave the old house to be a 
 solitude, when we had hoped to have it 
 bright with you and her ; and your good 
 mother there and 1 had thought to see our 
 grandchildren running here and there 
 through the old rooms. And you don't 
 wish to live with us V' said the poor, disap- 
 pointed father. 
 
 " You can't, sir, give us enough V\ en- 
 quired Luke again, in his hard voice. 
 
 " I did think/^ said the weak-minded 
 squire, " you would have liked it, Luke." 
 
 " Liked what V said he ; both were so 
 full of their separate, indeed opposite, views 
 that they could hardly understand one ano- 
 ther now. 
 
 *' Liked to have lived with us," jsaid the
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS, lol 
 
 old man, who really could not forget the 
 bitter disappointment his son's words and 
 manner were to him. 
 
 *' Oh, I should like it very well iadeed," 
 said Luke; " of course — if we can't have a 
 separate establishment ; but for young people 
 it doesn't do so well to live with old ones. 
 You would be deucedly — I mean, I beg 
 your pardon, mother — we should be often 
 in your way ; it's very kind of you, and all 
 that sort of thing, but perhaps Emily might 
 not like it — she and my mother might not 
 get on so well as could be wished." 
 
 " Is she such a bad temper V asked the 
 sq uire. 
 
 '* Bad temper !" laughed Luke — ^' she is 
 an angel.'' 
 
 " Then why the devil shouldn't she get 
 on with your mother, who I will say for her, 
 with all her faults," and here he nodded 
 cheerfully at her, " is just as good a woman 
 and as gentle, as ever came into a house. 
 She wont quarrel if Emily doesn't, will you
 
 1S2 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 mama '?" and he smiled pleasantly at hen 
 and gave her another nod, 
 
 " Why, I don't know,'^ said Luke — " two 
 mistresses of a house, you see — I shouldn't 
 like my wife to be in the back-ground." 
 
 ** She need not be that/' said Mrs. Leigh, 
 speaking for the first time — "*she can be 
 housekeeper, or anything she pleases, so 
 that you are but here, and happy, Luke." 
 
 He never even- thanked her ; he was so 
 used to all this self-forgetfulness for him,, he 
 never valued it. 
 
 " Time enough to settle all that, mother, 
 when I know ^lat we must live here," said 
 the cold, selfish voice of the son, going as 
 he always did straight at his own wishes 
 without a moment's consideration for any- 
 body. " What I want to know, sir, and 
 have asked twice without any kind of an- 
 swer is this : is there any probability of 
 your choosing to do so much for me on this 
 event of my marri,age as would allow me to 
 give Emily a home V 
 
 " Choosing to do P' said the poor Squire,
 
 FAMILY FAILIVGS. 133 
 
 bitterly hurt, for somehovv or other his own 
 warm and aifectionate feelings had been 
 worked up to such a pitch that he felt the 
 hardness of Luke's words and ways, more 
 than he had ever done in his life — " choosing 
 to do !" repeated he, " as if there was any- 
 thing in the world I would'nt choose to do 
 for you, that I could ! How can you say 
 such things V 
 
 " I have said nothing, father," replied 
 Luke, balancing his foot on the' fender, 
 '* except ask a plain question." 
 
 " Well, well ! it is sooner asked than 
 answered," said the father, " I had so made 
 up my mind that you would of course live 
 at the Leigh, and that we should all be so 
 happy here together, that I cannot say that 
 I am prepared to tell you how much I coul 1 
 give, or spare rather ; for I would give you 
 all if' I could ; you know it ; but for that, you 
 must wait a little, Luke, not very long 
 though, for I am not what I was ; only I should 
 just like to see ray grandson in the old house
 
 134 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 before I leave its roof mjself — I should like 
 that—" 
 
 " Pray don't talk so !" said Mrs. Leigh, 
 " you do it often now — how can you like to 
 make me miserable ; you're just as well as 
 ever — '' 
 
 But she gave a sharp glance at the old 
 man as she said this, and felt, with a pang 
 at her heart, that he did not look so very 
 well ; he had so long lived, or rather 
 vegetated without a feeling more keen than 
 could be produced by tenants and crops, and 
 bailiffs, and farms, and stock ; his worst 
 afflictions had been a little falling off in his 
 rents now and then, once in a few years ; so 
 that the strong emotions which had been 
 crowding upon him lately about his idolized 
 son had evidently been too much for him. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Leigh becam.e suddenly aware 
 that there was change, a sad and serious 
 change in her husband's looks as he sat there 
 with his low but open forehead wrinkled up, 
 his face as it were suddenly fallen in, and 
 that indescribable expression about the
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 135 
 
 mouth which is generally a sign of some- 
 thing wrong ; she saw all this as he sat deep 
 in the thought of what he could spare fur 
 his ungrateful son, and changes which were 
 in general concealed by his smiling and jovial 
 expression, became ten times more visible in 
 consequence of this unwonted look of 
 thought and care. 
 
 There is no pang to an affectionate heart, 
 like Mrs. Leigh's, to equal that produced by 
 such a discovery as this, especially when the 
 alteration we suddenly perceive takes place 
 in one not young ; we cling beyond expression * 
 to the pervson we love, and feel not only that 
 we may, but that we must lose them before 
 long. From that unlucky moment, poor 
 Mrs. Leigh was troubled with a slow but 
 wearing anxiety, she was always on the 
 watch for little things ; she never felt 
 secure. 
 
 Luke sat there silently, he felt quite 
 sulky, his father and his mother both look- 
 ing grave and sad ; he really did not see 
 what it was all about ; it was a kind of
 
 136 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 personal insult; he had so long been ac- 
 customed to see all sunshine around him, 
 that even this partial and momentary gloom 
 made him quite cross, aid he vented his 
 temper as usual — 
 
 " Really if I had known my going to be 
 married, my going to make myself happy 
 was to make every one else unhappy, I really 
 should have thought twice before I ventured 
 on such a step — very uncomfortable we all 
 are, that's very certain, but what about I 
 hav'ct an idea. — You, ray dear father, are 
 always saying you would do anything in the 
 world fur me, but when I as'k for something 
 tangible, a simple allowance (certainly it 
 must be a handsome one) to marry upon, I 
 meet nothing but black looks — one would 
 actually imagine I was wrong." 
 
 " 'Tis'nt that, my dear boy, 'tis'nt that, 
 you don't see that I'm di;-;appointed, that I'm 
 afraid I sha'nt see half enough of you, that 
 I can't bear to part with ycu— " and the 
 tears stood again in the old man's eyes ; but 
 this time they were not tears of joy.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 137 
 
 " ^N'onsense/' said Luke impatiently, 
 " you can do without me surely ; but the 
 thing is quite unsettled still, I'm waiting for 
 my answer." 
 
 " Why," said the father, " I must have 
 time to think it over — I can't arrange things 
 in my own mind — I'm not so quick as I 
 used to be, by any means ; but the Leigh is 
 an expensive place to keep up — you know 
 that — your brother has two hundred a year 
 still — 1 cut him down to that when your 
 poor aunt — ah ! dear me, well that was a 
 pity, and then, my dear boy, we must live, 
 — and altogether I don't see how I could 
 well allow you more than — I am afraid you 
 won't find it enough, for young people are 
 thoughtless, and tis'nt every wife that 
 manages like Mary there," and he smiled over 
 at her his kindly but unintellectual smile, 
 " I am afraid, dear Luke, with justice to 
 the old place, and the old people all about 
 us ; if I part with many of the old servants 
 I must pension them off you see."
 
 138 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 " I don't see that at all !" said Luke, 
 '' Service is no inheritance." 
 
 "It was in my time,'' said the Squire 
 gravely, for this was one of his fixed ideas. 
 
 ^' And Horace/' he interrupted, " I think, 
 with his fine prospects, he might give up to 
 me that paltry two hundred, nothing to him 
 but much to me as a married man — " argued 
 Luke with his blind selfishness. 
 
 " I have no doubt he will," said Mrs. 
 Leigh, " dear Horace is always ready to 
 give up to you — bless him ! — " 
 
 The mother's heart did her young son 
 some justice. 
 
 " Well, as I was explaining," said the 
 Squire, " with all these calls I don't see how 
 I can allow you more than a thousand — " 
 
 Luke's brow grew black. 
 
 '' Or say fifteen-hundred a year, that is a 
 stretch, my boy, 1 dare not say more, and 
 ought not to say that ; but anything to see 
 you happy, Luke, and know it is my 
 doing !— "
 
 FAMILY FAILLXGS. 139 
 
 The lowering brow did not clear even at 
 this heart warm kindness ; he did not feel 
 the sacrifice. 
 
 " It's not enough," said the harsh voice, 
 although he knew that it was half the old 
 man's income, indeed, more than the 
 half. 
 
 ** I could'nt live upon it.'' 
 
 " Indeed !" suggested Mrs. Leigh'. 
 
 He waved her into silence. 
 
 *' Excuse me, mother, but I must have 
 my horses, dogs, a home too fit for her, and 
 society for her to shine in — I would'nt and 
 could'nt live upon fifteen hundred — a mere 
 pittance after all this." 
 
 And the Leigh acquired a new value in 
 his eyes after the picture he had raised in 
 his own mind of cramped-incomes and hired 
 country houses. 
 
 " All thisT said the old Squire, catching 
 with delighted eagerness at the expression 
 and the look, *' all this., my boy, is yours 
 and hers — all that you've been accustomed 
 to you still can have;" and he rubbed his
 
 140 FAMILY BAILIXG3. 
 
 hand v/itli glee, " better than hired houses, 
 better for a Leigh to be at Leigh, that's 
 it, my boy, ha! ha! you would'nt like to 
 leave it after all ; there are not many such 
 places in the whole county, Luke, you 
 know it — Leigh is worth the having and 
 the living in — isn't it after all, my boy ? I 
 had you there, and I shall have you after 
 all ; you know I could'iit give you more, 
 and so if that w^on't do I have you — caught 
 you, my boy of boys — you must, must live 
 here ; not so despicable even for pretty 
 misses — better than Langton — I know Lang- 
 ton well — did'nt often go there though — be- 
 cause — I told your mother all about that 
 — yes, yes, this is a better place than 
 Langton, much ; she'll find that out, and 
 we shall not be parted, and the old place 
 will not be desolate — and little feet sliall 
 run about in the old hall— Thank God, I 
 think I hear them now !" 
 
 And the old Squire chuckled and laughed 
 in the extremity of his delight. 
 
 *' Ah, ha ! my boy," he said, once more
 
 FAMILY FAILIXGS. 141 
 
 clapping him on the back — " You must live 
 here." 
 
 " Well, I'm afraid I must," said Luke 
 gaining a shadow less of cold ungracious- 
 ness from the over-powering joy of his poor 
 father, and smiling a little as he said it " I 
 only hope it will not be a bore — to all of 
 us," he added to himself. 
 
 And the good Squire wrung his hand, and 
 his mother got up and kis§ed his forehead, 
 and though Luke was still sulky, . he could 
 not help feeling that his father was right, 
 and that it would be better to live in the old 
 house after all, less trouble and more com- 
 fort decidedly — no doubt about it, and 
 Emily should do just as she liked, just as he 
 liked — that is ; — he was quite determined 
 about that, and so all was peace and happi- 
 ness again in the oak-panelled room at 
 Leigh ; for so its master loved to call it — 
 he, good old man, sat smiling with the joy 
 of what he thought a victory, and Mrs. 
 Leigh recovering from her fears gazed at him 
 till she thought they were all fancies.
 
 142 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 " He did not look so ill, that was a bless- 
 ing," Luke had, in some degree, recovered 
 the little temper that he ever possessed, and 
 thej sat there and talked ; no one of the 
 small party seemed to remember that thej 
 had bad, what, for that quiet room, was 
 quite a scene, and no one of the three 
 seemed to feel the exquisite selfishness that 
 had been so unblushinglj displayed by Luke ; 
 the Squire had,^ in his joy, forgotten the 
 pain he felt at the beginning of their dis- 
 cussion, the mother thought that her own 
 dear boy was right : of course he wished for 
 a house of his own, it was so natural : of 
 course one half his father's income could 
 not be enough, poor fellow : of course the 
 next best thing for him, was living there ; 
 and she could give up everything to Emily 
 — Oh, yes ! that would be quite delightful, 
 and then what a companion it would be for 
 her, a lovely, merry girl, rather fatiguing — 
 parties, and all that ; but never mind, Luke 
 would be happy. — They never saw his faults 
 they were so used to them !
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 143 
 
 The Lsighs were old and respectable 
 ni embers of the Squirearchy of England. To 
 declare that there were Leighs long before 
 there were Cotton Lords and Railways Kings, 
 is not saying much, but before one third of 
 our noble names existed, and before Baronets 
 were so much as invented, there were Leighs 
 at Leigh : one rather felt inclined to won- 
 der why a family in no way remarkable for 
 anything but weakness and bad temper 
 should have been preserved from generation 
 to generation, when so many far nobler and 
 more useful branches of the human tree 
 were dead and gone for ever. I believe the 
 truth is that mediocrity is of a lasting 
 nature, and certainly, in their family, there 
 had not often been mind enough, to do them 
 any fatal injury, the sword had never worn 
 the scabbard out. 
 
 There had never been a title in the family, 
 and never a blot, never an honour, and 
 never a disgrace, they had been from father 
 to son for many a year more remarkable for 
 a kind of stupid yet violent disposition than
 
 144 FAMILY FAILIJN^GS. 
 
 for anything else, they had never done any 
 harm, and seldom done any good ! 
 
 The only exceptions known to this family 
 character had been a spirited though secret 
 Jacobite, who had, more from extreme good 
 fortune than prudence, just escaped forfeit- 
 ing the estate, and in later times Mrs. Yernon 
 and her youngest nephew had apparently 
 inherited from her shrewd and clever grand- 
 mother, a degree of intellectual superiority 
 as yet unheard of in a Leigh ! 
 
 A few days from this time the Squire and 
 his son arrived in London to talk matters 
 over with Horace — as yet no ' one had 
 sacrificed anything — the father and his heir 
 were equally pleased and satisfied ; the 
 sacrifice must come from Horace ; if he would 
 make it. 
 
 Again a family party of three sat round, 
 but this time it was round a table covered 
 with parchments, deeds, conveyances, and all 
 the strange contrivances of law, to make a 
 man's property his own ! 
 
 Horace Leigh sat with his .head raised
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 145 
 
 in a haughty attitude he looked, worried ; for 
 he was that day not much unlike a noble 
 stag at bay ; he felt himself to be the 
 superior creature, and yet he felt that he 
 must yield. 
 
 So he sat there listening patiently to his 
 old father's dull and slow expositions of what 
 he saw at a glance, and could have explained 
 in a sentence, patiently and respectfully 
 listening — to his own injury. There was a 
 struggle in his mind, a very bitter one, he 
 had a proud spirit, above all in money mat- 
 ters, and he was puzzled how to act ; he ^ 
 had so much at stake — he too was wishing to 
 marry. Should he put forth his claims'? 
 that was the question in his mind — his in- 
 come was not enough to marry a Walgrave 
 now ; it surely would be vain, just worse 
 than useless, a mere self-humiliation without 
 aim to ask his father for more just then. 
 Such were the difficulties spread out before 
 his path — the everj-day path of life is full 
 of such — ^when at that moment his father 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 14G FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 asked him even to give up that which he 
 had! 
 
 '* Ah, by-the-bje, Horace, I think you 
 will not want that two hundred a year I've 
 been allowing you, so much as Luke,, poor 
 fellow ; a married man you know has many 
 an expense you bachelors escape." 
 
 Horace Leigh did not answer ; he was de- 
 bating in his mind what he should do : even 
 if he declared his earnest wish to marry, (he 
 had a right to do that surely ; he was a son 
 as well as the more favoured one) — still it 
 would be no use, there was another real ob- 
 stacle, almost insurmountable to that up- 
 right, and generous, and honourable mind; too 
 full of delicacy that feeling might be, for it 
 was but a feeling which stood between him 
 and his happiness ; but to him it was as 
 great a barrier as a mountain range. 
 
 So as the matter stood, was it worth while 
 to own the wish he had, and so just try 
 what they would do for him — asking of him 
 as they were — so much.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS 147 
 
 There was a something mean in trying 
 when he knew so well what the result would 
 be, were he to put his interets in the balance 
 with his brother's. 
 
 A bitterness came over him — *' yes, he 
 would test them yet this once." 
 
 " Father," he said, with startling energy ; 
 '* I know this is an unlucky moment I have 
 chosen, but my heart is full, and I must 
 speak ; you are about to make Luke happy 
 in his affections. — I too am attached ; deeply, 
 and dearly do I love her ; it may be years 
 before — I hope it may be so— before I have 
 the means of marrying ; will you help me, 
 my dear father, even me also, to be happy, 
 so little more would do it V 
 
 " Impossible !" said the Squire, *' I must 
 give everything to Luke. — You are provided 
 for." 
 
 Poor Horace bowed his head upon his 
 hand and said no more, he was too proud to 
 plead again, and he was sick at heart, both 
 for the struggle and for its results ; his father 
 had been always harsh to him. 
 H 2
 
 148 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 " I can and will do nothing for jou ; your 
 share will be enough, and too much," con- 
 tinued the old squire. '' Poor Luke has 
 only me to look to — so after this year — it 
 might not be quite fair to take it away 
 suddenly — after this day twelvemonth, 
 Horace, your allowance from me ceases." 
 
 "Not even asked if I will give it up," 
 said the young man, between his teeth. 
 
 " I may do as I please with my own I" 
 replied the father. '* I should have asked 
 you civilly — indeed I did, only you broke 
 in on us with your own alBfairs, when Luke's 
 were in my head, and so I daresay I was 
 cross — you and youv lady love must wait 
 until you are what you will be ; the richer of 
 the two." 
 
 " But now for business," interrupted 
 Luke, eagerly, for it was for himself he 
 spoke. " I want it all arranged and done 
 with, since Horace is so kind, for really it 
 is generous of you ;" and his sullen face 
 looked smilingly upon his brother. 
 
 " You shall be happy, Luke, if I cannot
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 149 
 
 be SO," said Horace. ^' The Edgehill farm 
 on which mj future portion was charged at 
 the time of your marriage, father, will not 
 yield the half of it ; I am secured however 
 to the amount of fifteen thousand pounds 
 upon the Home farm — quite secure that ; 
 and that I am required to givei'Mp — my 
 younger brother's share. Well, I %^1 sign 
 and seal my right away : as Emily has so 
 littl-e fortune, I will give up my claim ; but 
 Luke, remember, Luke, if my aunt Vernon 
 should forget her promise, you must promise 
 to restore my rights. With that conditioi^ 
 get the papers prepared. I shall be ready 
 when you w^ill." 
 
 The weaknesses of Horace were all good. 
 
 '•' That's right, my boy ; I thank you," 
 said the squire warmed into something like 
 affection for his young and noble-minded 
 son ; " you have done my old heart good." 
 
 " Thank you ; this is a kindness done to 
 me and mine !" said Luke, in a voice of 
 some feeling. 
 
 " Ah, well/^ said Horace, " if I have
 
 150 FAMILY FAILLVGS. 
 
 taken an anxiety from you for the future ; 
 when you are happy, Luke, remember that 
 though I too love, and am beloved, I cannot 
 marry — but I wish you joy/^
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 151 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 Three months have past without any event 
 having befallen the Leighs worthy of a par- 
 ticular notice— and it is now the height of 
 the season ; all London is mad with gaiety ; 
 every inmate of every house is struggling 
 to wear an appearance which will very pro- 
 bably be expiated in economies and embar- 
 rassments for the remainder of the year in 
 some cases ; and in others will require more 
 rest of mind and body than the young and 
 gay, or even the old and worn out have time 
 or will to take.
 
 152 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 A little month ago Ladj Walgrave was 
 sitting as much out of the draught as she 
 could, in a very elegant room ; truly the 
 givers of the fete were not the most distin- 
 guished people of the fashionable world ; 
 but thej gave such balls, that joung ladies, 
 and such champagne suppers, that young 
 gentlemen, were only too happy to attend 
 and quiz them. 
 
 *' Who is that person, have you any idea, 
 who is dancing with Louisa '?" enquired the 
 watchful Lady Walgrave of the anxious 
 mama who was sitting next her. 
 
 " Mr. Green," replied the lady, after a 
 moment's contemplation of the gentleman in 
 question. 
 
 " Is that the Mr. Green V^ eagerly enquired 
 another chaperone, who was Lady Wal- 
 grave's neighbour on the other side. 
 
 " Certainly," replied Mrs. Dalhousie, who 
 never liked to be supposed not to know peo- 
 ple, and who inferred from the tone of the 
 last speaker that she ought to know him- — 
 " certainly, — I suppose so," she added to
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 153 
 
 herself, to quiet her conscience, after a 
 most uncommon fashion. 
 
 *' May I enquire," asked Lady Walgrave 
 of the lady, '' why he is to be considered 
 the Mr. Green." 
 
 " The greatest catch in London, my son 
 tells me," replied the lady ; " he has come 
 into the most enormous fortune. Nothing 
 but City uncles, grandfathers, or so on, but 
 a miracle of riches. He seems amazingly 
 struck with your eldest daughter,'' smiled 
 the lady, in conclusion ; ** and he is the 
 richest commoner in England." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Mrs. Dalhousie. *' I 
 happened to hear some one call him Green 
 — or I should not have known his name." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Lady Walgrave quietly, 
 and at the same moment as her friend ; but 
 the information made no slight impression on 
 her. 
 
 The party was breaking up, and Lady 
 
 Walgrave looked round for her daughters, 
 
 Isabelle was sitting down in a quiet corner, 
 
 listening to Horace Leigh, but on his face 
 
 H 5
 
 154 FAMILY FAILIiNGS. 
 
 and in his manner was a visible constraint, 
 amounting even to awkwardness, and upon 
 her fair face was a look of worry which had 
 no right to such a gentle resting place ; 
 appearances there were by no means satisfac- 
 tory, so Lady Walgrave looked for Louisa, 
 Mr. Green, the Mr. Green was bending over 
 her in an attitude of unmistakeable admira- 
 tion, he was in fact soliciting an introduction 
 to herself ; the young couple rose, approached 
 her, Louisa introduced her partner who was 
 received in the most obliging manner, and 
 Lady Walgrave assured him, 
 
 " She should be delighted to see him when- 
 ever he liked, in Cavendish Square." 
 
 The Mr. Green handed the fair Louisa into 
 the carriage, and the marioeuvering mamma 
 was more than content. 
 
 " My dear," said she to Sir Josiah the next 
 morning, " we must have a dinner party, Mr. 
 Green has been very attentive to dear Louisa 
 and 1 wish to ask him to the house." 
 
 '' My love," replied the husband, he 
 always said my love when he was going to
 
 Family failogs. 155 
 
 annoy her. " You would save yourself some 
 trouble if jou would have that sentence 
 lithographed with a blank space merely for 
 the name — I have heard it so often, it would 
 be a relief to see it written down — I would 
 however advise one small addition — Postcript, 
 Money — ad libitum.'^ 
 
 " You may consider it witty to laugh at 
 your wife, when she is doing all she can for 
 the advantage of your daughters ;" indig- 
 nantly replied Lady Walgrave, '' but the 
 postscript would be true enough in this case, 
 for it is the Mr. Green !" 
 
 She fully expected to overwhelm an(f 
 silence Sir Josiah, with this remarkable name, 
 and was by no means prepared to hear, 
 
 " And who is he V 
 
 " I don't exactly know," she felt obliged 
 to add, " except that he has just come into 
 a colossal fortune, and you may remember 
 seeing it mentioned in the paper." 
 
 " That Mr. Green, oh ask him by all 
 means," sarcastically observed the husband, 
 *' only I can't let him have my Isabelle, if I
 
 156 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 spare her to anyone it must be to that clever 
 fine young fellow, Leigh." 
 
 " You need not be afraid," observed his 
 wife, " they are neither of them likely to 
 deprive you of your darling." 
 
 " So much the better for me,'' said Sir 
 Josiah, '* she has time enough, and to spare." 
 
 " Upon consideration. Sir Josiah, I think 
 we had better ask our very best set to meet 
 this Mr. Green, it will give him a good im- 
 pression of us ; and will be quite as well for 
 him should anything eventually occur, he is 
 very much struck, I can assure you, with 
 Louisa." 
 
 '* Do as you please, you know I never in- 
 terfere," broke in Sir Josiah, " and now, 
 bless me, I have an appointment with Simmons 
 at eleven. I shall be late," and off he 
 hurried to Murdoch's manufactory, and was 
 soon altogether absorbed in matters far more 
 interesting to him than his wife's plots and 
 plans. 
 
 Mr. Green called ; Mr. Green bowed to 
 them in the Park ; Mr. Green came into 
 their box at the opera.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 157 
 
 " Don't you think it rather odd mamma/ 
 observed the gentle Isabelle who was not 
 without sense and observation, and who was 
 not so dazzled by the reputed wealth of their 
 new acquaintance, as her very worldly mother 
 ** Does it not strike you as rather odd that 
 Mr. Green appears to know so few people, I 
 wonder who he is." 
 
 *' City connexions he has, I heard," replied 
 Lady Walgrave, " nothing very great of 
 course ; he is not known at present, but we 
 can have the eclat of introducing the new 
 star." , 
 
 " But dear mamma, Mr. Leigh says he 
 does not think him much like a gentleman." 
 
 " Mr. Leigh's opinion matters little to 
 me," said the mamma indignant at her 
 daughter's very unusual interference, but 
 nevertheless she determined on enquiring 
 more about him, for Mr. Green was so 
 enchanted at the encouragement with which 
 his admiration was met, had been so smiled 
 upon at the many meetings which had already 
 taken place in Cavendish Square, in private
 
 158 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 boxes at the plaj, that a proposal was evi- 
 dently fast approaching. 
 
 " Pray my dear Lady Walgrave," asked a 
 particular friend, " who in the name of 
 wonder is that little man you are taking with 
 you everywhere." 
 
 " The Mr. Green," mysteriously whispered 
 she. 
 
 " Indeed," replied the lady putting up her 
 eye-glass, '' perhaps you will bring him to 
 us on the 28th." 
 
 The dinner-party went off very success- 
 fully, a very distinguished set were gathered 
 round Sir Josiah's hospitable board, and one 
 and all occasionally eyed x\Ir. Green ; he was 
 a specimen of a class new- to their eyes ; and 
 their curiosity was excited by the news- 
 paper puffs — it was the first time they had 
 seen the millionaire. 
 
 Lady Walgrave had essentially a vulgar 
 mind, and she had taken care that the ap- 
 pearance of her much courted guest, which 
 was not much in his favour, should be 
 qualified by a knowledge of his identity.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 159 
 
 *' He had better print his cards 
 
 " The Green," 
 
 whispered Horace Leigh to Isabelle ; he too 
 had asked, but none of his set had the 
 honour of knowing the new lion. 
 
 So Lady Walgrave proned him to her 
 great and exquisite delight, she being the 
 sole possessor of '' the Green." 
 
 He was not the beau ideal of a lover, 
 certainly not ; very short, with straw-coloured, 
 rebellious hair, light jellow whiskers, light 
 grey eyes — which could not express much if 
 they would — a low, uninteresting forehead, 
 short, fat hands, and a disagreeable voice — 
 it was just as well he was a millionaire. 
 
 " I do assure you, dear mama,'" declared 
 poor Louisa, as she sat in her mother's room 
 that evening after the people were gone, '' I 
 do not believe that I shall be able to accept 
 that little man !" 
 
 " Do not say that, my love, just at the 
 last ; you ought to have made up your mind
 
 I 160 FAMILY FAILIKGS. 
 
 upon that point before the matter went so 
 far." 
 
 " You hav'nt an idea what he is, dear 
 mama, he has never made love to you !" 
 said the poor girl. 
 
 " Good looks in a man ! what do they 
 signify V reprovingly observed Lad}' Wal- 
 grave, " I thought a daughter of mine, 
 brought up as you have been, would really 
 have had common sense enough to have no 
 such foolish ideas about appearance !" 
 
 " I do not care for that," said Louisa, 
 " but his conversation really is so silly." 
 
 " What upon earth is the use of marrying 
 a clever man V energetically answered Lady 
 Walgrave, '' I am sure 1 am the last woman 
 in the world to wish for a moment to pre- 
 judice a child of mine against her own father, 
 but you must see enough in this house to 
 know it is no such great advantage to have 
 a clever husband — he talks of things you 
 cannot understand, he thinks of things of 
 which you cannot remember the names, he 
 undervalues your understanding, considers
 
 FAMILY FAILHGS. 161 
 
 you an inferior being, asks all sorts of odd 
 people to dinner because they are clever too, 
 wont attend to you whatever you may have 
 to say, because it must be all nonsense, and 
 perhaps at the end of it all — " and the ill- 
 treated wife got quite out of breath — " at the 
 end of it all he frightens you to death, and 
 nearly blows you up — ^like your poor father ! 
 My dear Louisa be warned — let nothing in- 
 duce you — come what will — never be 
 tempted by love or money to marry a very 
 clever man !" 
 
 This exordium was delivered in the most 
 solemn and natural manner, with the air of 
 a woman who was endeavouring, as an ira- 
 peritive duty, to save her daughter from a 
 miserable fate. 
 
 It is highly probable that Sir Josiah would 
 have warned his son if he had had one, with 
 as much earnest anxiety, never to wed d 
 silly womaD ! 
 
 " I only wish that Mr. Green were only 
 in the very least, in any way, one half as 
 good as my dear father ;'' sighed Louisa,
 
 162 FAMILY BAILINGS. 
 
 " but really such a very plain and stupid, 
 and uninteresting — " 
 
 " Uninteresting ! You could have said 
 nothing so much in his favour !" said Lady 
 Walgrave in an enthusiastic tone, " 1 quite 
 congratulate you, dearest." 
 
 " Mama I" said Lousia in a tone of the 
 most unqualified astonishment. 
 
 " I speak advisedly ;" said the mother in 
 a graver tone ; " if you did only know the 
 miseries of having an interesting husband ! 
 every one admiring him — every one setting 
 at him — now at the least you have a chance 
 of keeping him to yourself!" 
 
 '* I should think so indeed !" said the 
 young lady in a voice half-laughing and half- 
 bitter. 
 
 " Go on with your objections," trium- 
 phantly observed Lady Walgrave ; "you 
 must see how ill-grounded is your last, only 
 imagine, with his wealth if he were hand- 
 some, and fascinating too ! — in the first place, 
 my dear, he never would have married you 
 — there's something in that ! and in the
 
 F.\MILY FAILINGS. 163 
 
 next place, fancy the smiles of the most 
 beautiful women in London bestowed upon 
 one's husband, fancy anything worse if you 
 can — I can't ! ' and Lady Walgrave appeared 
 to give it up in despair. 
 
 " I certainly should feel rather jealous," 
 said Louisa, but she could not help laughing 
 at the idea of all the lovdy creatures of the 
 gay world smiling at Mr. Green — she felfc 
 quite safe. 
 
 " I do assure you my dear," declared the 
 mother, as solemnly as if she were put upon 
 her oath, " the more stupid and ugly a man 
 is ; the better for his wife." 
 
 The young girl was so profoundly aston- 
 ished at this doctrine from the lips of one she 
 had been taught to consider almost infallible, 
 that she stared at her in silence — till at last 
 her feelings enabled her to ask, 
 
 " Surely not the more stupid he is mama." 
 
 " Decidedly," said Lady Walgrave, " I 
 can prove it in a moment ! The unfortunate 
 example of your poor father is enough for 
 you in one kind of cleverness, I need say uo
 
 164 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 more ; you can have lived in this house to 
 very little purpose if it is necessary to say 
 another word, Mr. Simmons here so often, 
 and that creature Murdoch asked to dinner ! 
 but if a man makes himself agreeable to 
 other men ; it is enough to make any woman 
 unhappy, what does he care for his wife, 
 when he can go to mens' dinners, to his 
 club to be made a fuss about; talking here, 
 and speaking there ! (very odd that talking 
 and speaking should be such different things, 
 but they are,) depend upon it my love, the 
 best chance a woman has of her husband's 
 caring for her society is, the other men not 
 caring for his !" 
 
 " Good gracious !" exclaimed Louisa, per- 
 fectly astounded at all these wonderful 
 opinions. 
 
 Lady Walgrave apparently could not stop 
 herself, for she went on regardless of the 
 interruption. 
 
 " If a married man is fond of mens' society 
 there is no knowing where it may end —
 
 PAMILY FAILINGS. 165 
 
 gambling and racing !" she quite shuddered 
 at the horrid ideas. 
 
 " But surely mamma some slight accom- 
 plishment, Mr. Green does'nt know, God save 
 the Queen, when he hears it, and when Miss 
 Lawrence was singing so splendidly, he de- 
 clared he did not mind it in the least." 
 
 " Accomplishment is worse than all !" said 
 Lady Walgrave in the tone of an oracle, " if a 
 man sings, he must be accompanied, his wife 
 must stay at home sometimes, and then, 
 Louisa, he must play and sing with other 
 people I I think an accomplished husband 
 really worse than none !'' 
 
 " And so mamma ;" said poor Louisa, " if 
 clever, handsome and accomplished men are 
 sure to make one wretched, it follows as a 
 matter of course that a man who has no 
 temptation to care for the society of men or 
 women because they will not value his, is 
 just the person who would make one happy I 
 — it does not sound well, mother dear," and 
 her ejes filled with tears.
 
 H6 . FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 "The more likely to care for you," said 
 Lady Walgrave kindly. 
 
 But the idea of this exclusive aflPection 
 and attention ; this continual presence of Mr. 
 Green was not altogether so pleasing to the 
 young girl as could have been wished under 
 her circumstances, and she almost sobbed as 
 she thought of it ; a long future life with 
 him as a companion, when she was tired of 
 him already ! 
 
 " My dear mama I do assure you I don't 
 think I can accept him, and he all but pro- 
 posed this evening, you hav'nt an idea how 
 weary I am of him now." 
 
 " That will go off when you are once en- 
 gaged, you will have so many things to talk 
 of ; house, carriages, then he will be choosing 
 you presents, pretty surprises — little sur- 
 prises of diamonds, my dear child ; you will 
 find plenty to amuse you, as the fiancee of a 
 Millionaire !" 
 
 " But, dear mama, what happiness can 
 all this give me, if I don't care for him f' 
 innocently enquired the daughter.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 167 
 
 Lady Walgrave was posed at last, she had 
 been as she considered it, doing her duty as 
 a mother (her duty as a chaperone it was) 
 to the very uttermost in this conversation, 
 bringing the stores of her own opinions and 
 experience to persuade her child into what 
 she thought the happiness of marrying well, 
 
 "if wealthily then well^ is the world's 
 
 maxim no\va,^jLySj and now this very simple 
 question puzzled her, and all her eloquence 
 was at fault. 
 
 Louisa sat with her long, fair curls droop- 
 ing round her face on a low stool by the 
 dressing-room fire, and as her mother did not 
 answer, she looked anxiously up in her face 
 with a strangely irresolute expression on her 
 own, the tears were stand.ing in her eyes, and 
 she looked anything but convinced or happy. 
 
 " My dearest child," said Lady Walgrave, 
 " a woman's happiness in married life really 
 depends much more upon her husband's 
 caring for her, than upon her being desper- 
 ately in love with him ; you will find your 
 best happiness in making him happy."
 
 168 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 The one real and womanly truth contained 
 in the last half dozen words her mother 
 had spoken, touched the young girl's heart, 
 she felt there was something in that; she 
 knew he loved her ; she felt she could 
 make him happy, and that gave her a gleam 
 of hope for herself. 
 
 " "Well, dearest mother,*' said Louisa, ris- 
 ing languidly, and pushing back her hair 
 with an impatience which was not natural 
 to her, " if I do marry Mr. Green, it will 
 be for his happiness, not mine !" 
 
 " It will be for your mother's," said Lady 
 Walgrave, kissing her. " If he is good, 
 and loves you, and is rolling in wealth, you 
 might do worse — a fascinating gambler, par 
 example." 
 
 And Louisa "Walgrave passed on to her 
 room, with a wan, sad smile, very unsuited 
 to so young a face — and laid her weary 
 head upon her pillow. How blessed a thing 
 ii is that sorrow does not keep one awake so 
 much as joy. 
 
 The next morning the two sisters had a
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 169 
 
 long conference on the same interesting sub- 
 ject. 
 
 " And so jou really mean to have him !'' 
 said Isabelle, raising her dark eye-brows in 
 astonishment ; " why you told me, Louisa — " 
 
 *' I had not then heard all mama's long 
 arguments ; she almost proved to me last 
 night that the more ugly, and horrid, and 
 disagreeable a man was the better !" 
 
 " Comfortable doctrine for you, dearest, 
 if you do marry Mr. Green ; but I am sure 
 if he has all this wealth, he is a miser ; he 
 hasn't even a horse, except his own one ri- 
 ding horse ; and his concexions must be 
 rather low — he always avoids mentioning 
 them ; I think it very odd, and so does 
 Horace Leigh." 
 
 " I don't know what mama will sav if I 
 don't marry him !" said poor Louisa, whose 
 awe of her mother had always been great. 
 
 *' I wouldn't marry such a horrid little 
 man," said Isabelle, with sudden energy, 
 " not if I had a dozen of mamas I" 
 
 " We cannot tell till we are tried, what 
 
 VOL. I I
 
 170 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 we will do," said Louisa, touching a deep 
 truth unawares. 
 
 '* We may be married the same day, 
 dear Isabelle," she laughed. 
 
 Isabelle burst into tears. 
 
 The morning of the 28th arrived, and 
 with it Mr. Green. In the course of that 
 morning he proposed to Louisa, and obtained 
 permission to speak to Lady Walgrave ; Sir 
 Josiah was absent, trying experiments some- 
 where in the country with Mr. Simmons, so 
 that no business matters were touched upon 
 that day. 
 
 Lady Walgrave had a long conversation 
 with Louisa ; and the consequence of it was 
 that Mr. Green was reluctantly but decidedly 
 accepted ; he was asked to dinner, at w^hich 
 he duly appeared, with a bouquet the size 
 of a plate ; and they were all to proceed to 
 the ball together ; Louisa very much out of 
 spirits ; Lady Walgrave delighted ; Isabelle, 
 as angry and indignant as it was possible for 
 her to be ; and poor, ugly little Mr. Green
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 171 
 
 in a frenzy of astonishment at his own un- 
 looked-for happiness. 
 
 The ball was given by Mrs. Campbell, 
 Lady Walgrave's particular friend. She 
 welcomed the party, of two pretty girls and 
 one lion, with distinguishing cordiality — and 
 they past on. The first persons who came 
 forward to greet them were Horace and 
 Frederick Keane ; but Louisa was obliged 
 to decline the offer of a quadrille with the 
 latter, to dance with Mr. Green. 
 
 Isabelle had never looked so well as on 
 that evening ; Horace forgot his self-imposed 
 caution and forbearance, and instead of 
 leaving her, as he had done of late to the. 
 uninterrupted attentions of the many dan- 
 glers attracted by her beauty, leaving her 
 in the proud confidence of her absolute in- 
 difference to them all : upon this occasion he 
 took his place amongst them, claimed, and 
 kept it. 
 
 All coolness seemed to have past away ; 
 his whole air and manner became what it 
 had once been to her ; and with the renewed 
 I 2
 
 172 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 hope that ''after all he cared for her, 
 sweet Isabelle Walgrave looked more and 
 more lovelj ; nothing embellishes a woman 
 so much as the consciousness that she is be- 
 loved — provided always it is by the right 
 person. She was considered that night the 
 beauty of the room. 
 
 At length, fatigued by all her dancing, 
 she came to her mother's side fur rest. 
 
 There had been for some little time a 
 kind of subdued excitement in the room ; 
 and whispers were going round, which were 
 apparently occasioned by the entree of Lady 
 R leaning upon the arm of a distin- 
 guished looking young man, who leaving 
 her side, had established himself not far 
 from the Walgraves, and was evidently 
 greatly admiring Isabelle. After a short 
 time the lady he was talking to, who had a 
 slight acquaintance with them, came to- 
 wards them, followed by tlie very handsome 
 person who was so evidently somebody. He 
 was perfectly well and quietly attired ; but
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. lYo 
 
 his studs were formed of siin[)ly set, but 
 most magnificent diamonds. 
 
 The lady smiled upon Isabelle, and 
 begged to introduce to her Mr. Green. 
 
 " You must have seen how anxious people 
 are to make his acquaintance," said she to 
 Lady Walgrave; " and no wonder; he is a 
 finished gentleman, and moreover it is the 
 Mr. Green !" 
 
 *' What Mr. Green V exclaimed poor 
 Lady Walgrave, turning deadly pale. 
 
 " The rich, the newspaper hero, the 
 millionaire," asserted the lady, in the most 
 smiling manner. 
 
 '' Impossible — it cannot be — surely an 
 impostor," stammered Lady Walgrave, who 
 felt as if she must scream if this went on. 
 
 " Impostor !" laughed the lady ; " what 
 an excellent idea — quite witty. I have 
 known him from a child ; and knew his 
 uncle, Mr. Fiddles, the City man, who left 
 him, I don't know what. But he has been 
 out of the City ; and though now the richest 
 man we know, he has a heart, and^ doesn't
 
 174 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 forget old friends. He left Lady R , 
 
 who chooses to patronize him just now, for 
 me f and the lady fanned herself with 
 great complacency, and walked away to 
 laugh at Lady Walgrave's having thought 
 that Willoughby Green was an impostor ! 
 
 Poor Lady Walgrave would have given 
 the world to move, to hear, to ask ! what 
 could this mean ! Was her Green an im- 
 postor 1 What a horrible idea I and he 
 engaged to poor Louisa. — She felt that she 
 must faint. 
 
 At that moment Mrs. Campbell approached 
 with a grave countenance, and took the va- 
 cant seat by her astounded friend. 
 
 " My dear Lady Walgrave," said she, 
 ''the most extraordinary, the most unac- 
 countable thing has occurred : I never felt so 
 very uncomfortable in my life ; but — but — 
 perhaps I did not understand — perhaps you 
 might have made a mistake — but you told 
 me that gentleman was the new lion ; and 
 
 Lady R has brought, unasked, another 
 
 gentleman, and says he is the Mr. Green
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 175 
 
 and — and — wliich in the name of wonder is 
 the right one V 
 
 An earthquake, with the ground opening 
 at her feet could scarcely have given poor 
 Lady Walgrave greater shocks than she now 
 was receiving. 
 
 '* I — I — I — never asked him," stammered 
 she ; *' but I believe, that is, that — I was 
 — told the gentleman I brought — was the — 
 the Mr. Green, but — but — " 
 
 '' May I ask you, my dear friend, who 
 told you so V enquired Mrs. Campbell, pity- 
 ing the state of extreme, though subdued 
 agitation, in which she found the unfortu- 
 nate Lady Walgrave. 
 
 " Mrs. Dalhousie," gasped she faintly. 
 
 '' Do you not know that she is famous for 
 sajing anything that tirst enters her head V 
 replied Mrs. Campbell. " No wonder you 
 were — have been mistaken, if she was your 
 informant.** 
 
 '^ And — and," gasped Lady Walgrave, 
 *' you do not think the other an impostor ?"
 
 176 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 " Coming with Lady R — — !" indignantly 
 interposed the hostess. 
 
 " A mistake," humbly suggested Lady 
 Walgrave. 
 
 " The mistake is yours^ I fear,'' said her 
 dear friend ; " but we must hush it up ; the 
 ridicule will be too overpowering if the 
 people here find out that there are two of 
 the Mr. Greens 1 — That it should happen in 
 my house 1" and the poor hostess allowed 
 her own despair to make her forget tl^t of 
 her friend. 
 
 At this precise moment her two fair daugh- 
 ters returned to the maternal wing, each 
 with the Mr. Green ! 
 
 Poor Lady Walgrave groaned ; but Mrs. 
 Campbell, awkward as were the circum- 
 stances, could not restrain a smile. 
 
 '* Ah ! how d ye do V said the tall, hand- 
 some, real Simon Pure, putting out his 
 hand. 
 
 To the unspeakable relief of Mrs. Camp- 
 bell, who really felt annoyed, the little ugly
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 177 
 
 man she thought was an impostor, took the 
 offered hand of the real Qiillionaire. 
 
 And there the two stood and talked ! till 
 the tall man, bending in the most graceful 
 manner down to Lady Walgrave's ear, said, 
 in a voice which scarcely overpowered the 
 fearful beating in her head — 
 
 " I did not know you were acquainted 
 with my cousin !" 
 
 The hostess, much delighted at the recog- 
 nition, disappeared with a slight smile. 
 
 Poor Lady Walgrave could stand this no 
 longer ; nature could bear no more. 
 Escorted by Horace Leigh, who had been' 
 standing near enough to hear and under- 
 stand it all, her two daughters escorted by 
 the two Greens, she entered her carriage ! 
 
 Her Mr. Green jumped in ! He had been 
 offered a place by Louisa, hoping to please 
 her mother. 
 
 Lady Walgrave, being unable to faint, be- 
 came enraged — deeply and furiously enraged. 
 She asked a private interview, late as it was, 
 and told the astonished little man that having
 
 178 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 discovered her daughter was uot sufficiently 
 attached, she begged that he would not 
 apply to Sir Josiah for his consent, and that 
 he would cease his visits to the house. 
 
 Five minutes after Louisa heard this, she 
 was frantically waltzing round her own 
 room.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS, 179 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " Horace," said Blanche, " I'm very glad you* 
 are come to-day, you must be lectured ; I am 
 angry with you." 
 
 " I know what you would say," replied 
 her cousin flinging himself into a chair, and 
 leaning his head upon his hand in a weary 
 way, and with a weary look. 
 
 "Poorlsabelle," said Blanche. 
 
 " You pity her when you had better pity 
 me," replied Horace moodily, " if you turn 
 against me, Blanche, what comfort shall I 
 have to look to T
 
 180 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 '' I do not blame you, Horace, so much as 
 you may think, but for once, in our long 
 career of friendship, I do not understand 
 you." 
 
 "I scarcely understand myself/' said 
 Horace, "and mine is no uncommon case. 
 I want your help and your advice, I have so 
 much to say that I can scarcely speak, but 
 I am most unhappy, Blanche.^' 
 
 '* Speak on, I'm listening/' said she in a 
 very quiet voice, and she too leant forward 
 on the table. 
 
 She was indeed a listener, no work, no 
 playing with small things that fall or make 
 small sudden snaps and noises — deep, quiet, 
 calm attention, Blanche Trevor always gave 
 to Horace, and he valued it. 
 
 The cousins sat both leaning in the same 
 kind of attitude, they were certainly alike, 
 the same broad foreheads, not too high — high 
 foreheads generally mark the visionary, and 
 these two in their own separate ways had 
 eminently practical minds — broad foreheads 
 with the same deep set, sensible looking
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 181 
 
 eyes, hers were like his but softer, and above 
 all the likeness was in the broad but finely 
 chiselled mouths, full of sweetness of ex- 
 pression, but also showing signs in her of 
 firmness which were wanting in his — there 
 was more of sensibility in his expression than 
 in hers — she had learnt to controul her 
 feelings, young as she was, and he had not. 
 A stranger would have thought they were 
 brother and sister sitting there, so young 
 and yet so gravely talking, and in that light 
 indeed they stood to one another, or he 
 never would have made a fair young girl the* 
 confidante, as he had done, of his deep, but 
 apparently unfortunate attachment — to 
 another. 
 
 He did not speak for a few moments, and 
 they were both so absorbed in their own 
 thoughts that neither discovered the silence, 
 his were so perfectly confused,^ they would 
 not range themselves in words, and hers 1 — 
 it matters not what they were, they soon 
 merged themselves into a calm, clear interest 
 in all that he might have to say.
 
 182 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 " Was ever man so hampered '?" impa- 
 tiently exclaimed Horace Leigh at last, 
 •' I'm in new toils since we last spoke upon 
 this matter, Blanche — my father is about to 
 take away my poor allowance." 
 
 "Just like his usual conduct," replied 
 Blanche with her eyes flashing with indigna- 
 tion, " when is that to be 1" 
 
 " Within a year ; another hope is gone 
 with that 1" 
 
 " Did you not speak, did you not tell your 
 father 1" she could not quite finish the sen- 
 tence, but it has been remarked that English 
 people seldom do. 
 
 " I told him all, I begged for it, and you 
 best know what I must feel — in asking him 
 for money !" 
 
 " Well r asked Blanche. 
 
 " It was refused — roughly refused." 
 
 " Indeed/' said Blanche, suddenly turning 
 crimson ; she had discovered a remedy for 
 that, but would not mention it, lest it should 
 chance to fail. 
 
 " And that is not the worst," said Horace,
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 183 
 
 " and yet I will not regret it. — I lia"\^ given 
 away my birthright, Blanche — not sold it 
 though, I'm proud to say." 
 
 " I do not understand 1" enquired she. 
 '' I have signed away my right to the 
 younger children's share, which of course 
 centred in me," said Horace. 
 
 ** It was like you," said Blanche, " most 
 generous, but weak." 
 
 '* My brother asked it in a way that I 
 could hardly refuse — they both reminded me 
 so much that I should have the lion's share 
 — and I have too often been disappointed,^ 
 Blanche, not to feel for poor Luke." 
 
 '* I hope you have not parted with the 
 substance for the shadow, Horace," said the 
 cautious Blanche, in a low tone. 
 
 " By Jove ! that thought has crossed me 
 too," said he. 
 
 " It must be by some strange and malig- 
 nant chance — next to an impossibility," 
 replied she with a sigh of relief. 
 
 " If not I am indeed a ruined man, now 
 and for ever 1" answered Horace..
 
 184 FAMILY FAILLXGS. 
 
 " ^d SO, allowance arid birthright lost 
 both of them — I need not ask you now how 
 fares your love 1'' said Blanche, again 
 colouring very deeply. 
 
 " We are both wretched now," said 
 Horace. 
 
 '' Why not speak to her, why not tell her 
 this — all this ;" said Blanche with an effort, 
 " what is the use of telling it to rae — ex- 
 plain in heaven's name your conduct, or she 
 will think you what you are not ; heartless 
 like other men 1 — why let her linger on in 
 hope and fear — you know not what that is 
 — tell her all that you have to say at 
 once — " and Blanche rose and walked 
 away. 
 
 " I cannot,^' replied Horace, *' it would 
 not be an honourable thing to tell her that I 
 love her when I cannot ask her to be my 
 wife— '^ 
 
 *' That is a man's notion of honour !'' 
 answered Blanche, ^* I see it thus — far better 
 and more honourable would it be to let her 
 know you love her than to let her fear and
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 185 
 
 wonder till woman's pride, the greatest 
 blessing women have, comes to the rescue." 
 
 " It might be kind, it might be pleasant 
 — happier far for me ; but — but I cannot 
 do what the world deems a dishonourable 
 thing/' 
 
 " If that is your determination, Horace," 
 said Blanche, " I have no more to say — my 
 task of councillor is over, if I stay longer 
 here I shall be — angry, Horace, — so — we 
 shall meet at dinner — " and she left the 
 room. 
 
 *' Gone," said poor Horace, *' and I had 
 so much to say !" 
 
 Still what she said made an impression, it 
 came like a temptation to do something 
 wrong, again, and then again — as such he 
 banished the thought whenever it presented 
 itself, the world's code of honour shut out 
 the better feeling, and made him deem that 
 even Blanche was wrong upon that point. 
 
 And so he left poor Isabelle to weep and 
 wonder, to believe he never cared for Iier, to 
 torture herself with the most distressing
 
 186 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 thought that can occur to a woman's mind, 
 " that she has loved, and not been loved," 
 rather than tell her the truth, rather than 
 tell her the day must come when they might 
 hope, although no present means existed of 
 their marrying. 
 
 If through his life the upright Horace 
 Leigh failed in a duty it was then, and if 
 ever Blanche Trevor stepped to her own 
 room with a conscience clear as day it was 
 when she left her cousin ; she had performed 
 her duty. 
 
 Blanche went to her little writing-table, 
 worked herself into a splendid fit of in- 
 dignation, and penned the following epistle 
 to Mrs. Vernon, with whom she was a great 
 and privileged favourite. 
 
 Lovers of truth and honesty as they both 
 were they could scarcely fail to be great 
 friends, despite the difference of their ages : 
 
 " My dear Mrs. VER>oy, 
 
 " Having obtained leave, 
 (even if papa and mama should not feel equal
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 187 
 
 to the exertion themselves), I shall be most 
 happy to accept your kind invitation to 
 spend some little time with you before Luke's 
 marriage. I shall be happy to accept the 
 office of bridesmaid to my pretty cousin- in- 
 prospect, and too happy to see you again. 
 I suppose my uncle Leigh means to be very 
 munificent to the young couple, as I have dis- 
 covered he is going to deprive Horace of his 
 allowance ; Luke as a married man will 
 want more than ever ! 
 
 " I remain 
 
 " Yours most afiectionately 
 
 " BlajS'che Trevor." 
 
 Having written this letter in a kind of 
 triumphant manner, which appeared alto- 
 gether uncalled for by the occasion, she 
 dressed for their usual drive, and called upon 
 the Walgraves with Mrs. Trevor. She found 
 the girls in the highest spirits, and wondered 
 much, though silently, at the beaming looks 
 and happy laugh of Isabelle — she was not
 
 188 FAMILY FAILLN'GS. 
 
 aware that this was the day after that " horrid 
 little man," had been so unexpectedly re- 
 jected by Lady Walgrave. 
 
 In the course of the next day the real 
 and actual Mr. Green called in Cavendish 
 Square ; as he was sitting in the drawing- 
 room, Sir Josiah arrived from his couutr}' 
 expedition, and was introduced to the hand- 
 some stranger as Mr. Green ; having arrived 
 unexpectedly, and having entered the room 
 without previously seeing his wife. Sir Josiah 
 was naturally rather puzzled himself, and 
 worried poor Lady Walgrave nearly into a 
 state of insanity by his repeated and cordial 
 enquiries after his Mr. Green, thinking it 
 civil to praise him to a person whom he soon 
 discovered was a relation. 
 
 " Lucky man !'' (said Sir Josiah to the 
 real person). *' Lucky man our friend to 
 have come into such an enormous fortune." 
 
 " I beg your pardon !" said the imllionaire 
 very must mystified at thi«, but not liking 
 to say much. 
 
 " He is a great favourite of ours — often
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 189 
 
 gives US the pleasure of his company," said 
 the unconscious baronet, altogether blind to 
 his wile's vain endeavours to make him see 
 he ought to hold his tongue. 
 
 '' So I understand," replied the Green in 
 rather a significant manner, which threw 
 Lady Walgrave and Louisa into the most 
 painful confusion. " I have not seen him 
 since Mrs. Campbell's ball," he% added, " I 
 thought it possible I might have found him 
 here." 
 
 Lady Walgrave was on the rack, but by a 
 violent effort she succeeded in changing the 
 subject, and the new Mr. Green took his de- 
 parture, whilst she poor woman was so over- 
 come by her disappointment, and her feelings, 
 that to the very great astonishment of her 
 husband and children, their visitor had 
 scarcely closed the door when she burst into 
 tears. 
 
 True to her character and her " metier " 
 the manoeuvring mama was more overcome 
 by the idea that if she had not been in such 
 a hurry to secure the wrong one she might
 
 190 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 have caught the right one ! than by all the 
 annoying absurdity of the adventure. 
 
 *' My dear, my dear, what is all this 
 about V asked the perplexed Sir Josiah, 
 who was himself in the highest spirits at the 
 great success of his last experiments. 
 
 '' You would go on about Mr. Green !" 
 sobbed the poor wife. 
 
 '' And wky upon earth should I not V^ 
 enquired the astonished husband. 
 
 *' All I could do or look," said the poor 
 lady actually wringing her hands — ^' Oh, if 
 you did but know !" and she begun weeping 
 piteously. 
 
 " What can have happened 1 — what is 
 there to know? — what has become of the 
 poor little man '?" said Sir Josiah suspecting 
 he did not know what. 
 
 " I have — I have forbidden him the 
 house," sobbed out the lady. 
 
 " Dear me, I thought he was in love 
 with Loo — '' said the astonished father. 
 
 " He proposed,'' stammered the lady. 
 
 " How very much delighted you must
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 191 
 
 have been," sarcastically replied Sir Josiab, 
 getting quite out of patience, " why what 
 the then are you crying at V* 
 
 " He was — he was the wrong one,'^ sobbed 
 the lady ; '' that one — one here just now ; 
 he was the Mr. Green !" and wholly over- 
 come she ended her sentence in a kind of 
 subdued whine. 
 
 Put to him in this abrupt way, the first 
 impulse of Sir Josiah was to burst into a fit 
 of irrepressible laughter ; the more he thought 
 of all the pains taken to catch the " wrong 
 one," the more he laughed, and in a few 
 moments, the girls, who on seeing their 
 mother so upset had been all but in tears 
 themselves, could not resist, the infection of 
 their father's hearty laugh, and to the un- 
 speakable irritation of Lady Walgrave they 
 laughed too ! 
 
 Too much enraged to speak to them, she 
 rose in the most dignified manner, and with 
 her face half-buried in her laced-handker- 
 chief she left the room ,- she felt herself a 
 wretched mother and a most ill-used wife.
 
 192 FAMILY FATLIKGS. 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha, ha ! what is all this abouf?'' 
 enquired Sir Josiah of his daughters. 
 
 When they had explained it to the best 
 of their power he burst into another laugh, 
 so loud that Lady Walgrave heard it up- 
 stairs ; and vehemently declared — 
 
 " It was the best joke he had ever 
 heard in his life, and it served their mother 
 quite right ! but he was very glad he had 
 been out of it all." 
 
 What drove poor Lady Walgrave to 
 despair was this ; after all that had past she 
 could not, must not, dared not, ask the real 
 one to dinner ! 
 
 Horace Leigh was sitting in his chambers ; 
 with all he had to think of — and love matters 
 are important to the young — he was still 
 steadily at work, his papers were by him 
 and books, learned in the law, were open be- 
 fore him ; he was not asleep, he was not 
 writing letters or verses ; he was not draw- 
 ing caricatures of the barristers, or judges 
 from recollection ; he was not even answering 
 invitations to balls though they were showered
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 193 
 
 upon him ; he was actually reading, he was 
 actually attending to what he read ; and this 
 is surely a thing to be remarked upon, en- 
 larged upon and put down to his credit : the 
 case is such a rare one ! — opposite to him, on 
 an uncomfortable chair, looking exceedingly 
 weary though very handsome and interesting, 
 doing nothing at all, sat Frederick Keane. 
 
 *' Oh, Horace, if you would but buy some 
 comfortable seats ! I shall have to make 
 you a present of an arm-chair I know I shall 
 — it will come to that." 
 
 " I would not have one at a gift, old 
 friend," answered Horace, " you may buy 
 as many as you please, but they can't come 
 here." 
 
 " What an odd fellow you are, Horatio,'' 
 answered Fred with his eye-brows raised, and 
 his usual expression of astonishment — '* why 
 not r 
 
 *' Nothing would induce me to have an 
 arm-chair here to make me idle/' energeti- 
 cally declared the young barrister, and he 
 went on reading. 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 FAMILY FAILLVGS. 
 
 His friend sat on in silence, he It^d learnt 
 to be quipt like a child when Horace was 
 employed — it was the penalty he had to pay 
 for being always with him, and he paid it 
 willingly ; he felt so lost if Horace was long 
 out of sight — so he looked placidly out of 
 the window, and for the thousandth time 
 amused himself with thinking of the very odd 
 shapes of the chimney tops ; — then he got 
 up and walked to the window, anxiously 
 looking to see if it rained ; having convinced 
 himself that it did, he returned to his place 
 jogging the table in a very unpleasant manner, 
 and causing Horace, who was then making 
 notes from the book before him, to make a 
 huge blot. 
 
 " If you would but read, or do something,'' 
 expostulated he in a reproachful voice, " in- 
 stead of interrupting me !" 
 
 «' I could'nt work, work, work, as j^ou do, 
 Horace, upon ray soul I could'nt," apolo- 
 getically answered poor Fred. 
 
 Horace found his lip curling involuntarily 
 at this candid admission of the truth, but he
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 195 
 
 was quite irritated bj all the little worrying 
 shakes, and idle little noises that Fred had 
 been indulging in for the last hour, and he 
 exclaimed — 
 
 " I never felt inclined to horsewhip but 
 one man in mj life," said Horace, " and 
 that was a man and an officer, whom I saw 
 at work with a needle ! — but I do declare 
 Fred I would rather see you at work with a 
 worsted and a needle than see you, day 
 by day, and month by month, do nothing — 
 it is disgraceful idleness." 
 
 "Now don't — now don't," said Keane, 
 " you're using very strong language, Horace, 
 only I know that you don't mean it." 
 
 "But I do — by Jove," said Horace, 
 getting really angry. 
 
 Fred made no answer but he took his hat 
 and saying in a very penitential voice, " I 
 won't disturb you any more to-day," he went 
 out in the rain. 
 
 They saw rather too much of one another. 
 Having given way to the family failing, 
 K 2
 
 196 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 Horace, after a moment's pause was sorry he 
 had been so harsh ; but it fretted him to see 
 his pet friend wasting his time ; and not his 
 own time alone, but that which Horace 
 himself made use of to the best advantage. 
 Blanche's words crept back into his memory 
 whether he would or no. He and Frederick 
 we7'e uncongenial, the difference between their 
 pursuits and characters was widening every 
 day ; and yet they lived together — on that 
 subject, Horace would not think, so he 
 turned to his work again ; he w^s a very 
 clever and very sensible youth Horace Leigh! 
 but before he gave his full attention to the 
 book again ; he took out a pocket-book, 
 opened it, took out a small white note, evi- 
 dently an invitation, looked at it, and was 
 so exceedingly foolish as to put it to his lips 
 before he quietly replaced it — he had ascer- 
 tained who wrote that little note, that she 
 had watched out of the room with an equally 
 foolish blush. It was Isabella's first note to 
 Horace.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 197 
 
 Cue cannot put old heads upon young 
 shoulders ; and it would be a very great 
 pity if one could ! 
 
 " 1 wonder if Horace will come this 
 morning,'' observed Blanche to Mrs, Trevor 
 a few days after this ; *' I have a decided 
 presentiment that Mr. Spildin will be more 
 eloquent than usual to-day, and if so, it 
 will be quite a pity it should be lost on us ; 
 not but that you enjoy the poor little man's 
 philosophy a little yourself, though you do 
 sit there looking so grave ; I have observed 
 that you find the open lid of your very large 
 workbox, useful now and then at times," said 
 Blanche gaily, as she was preparing her easel 
 and its accompaniments for the lesson she 
 expected. 
 
 '' He is worth any money, that little man, 
 and he thinks so himself," continued she, 
 laughing, as she rose to receive Horace, who 
 quickly installed himself in his accustomed 
 place, as the little queer knock announced 
 the arrival of the artist.
 
 198 FAMILY FAILIXGS. 
 
 " Pray Mr. Spildin do you teach figures, 
 as well as landscape '?" enquired his pupil. 
 
 '* Oh yes I take off heads I do/' replied the 
 artist with a reverential bow, '' a little time 
 ago mum, and I would have offered to take 
 your head mum, at half price, I would, as 
 you're my best pupil : but I've give it up." 
 
 These last words were spoken in a tone of 
 the deepest despondency. 
 
 " Oh you took likenesses — I was not aware 
 of that," said Blanche, " I meant could you 
 teach me to copy a figure." 
 
 " I teach everything ! ' said the artist in 
 a tone of conscious ability, *' anythink you 
 please." 
 
 " What made you give up taking like- 
 nesses V enquired Blanche. 
 
 " Feelings," said Mr. Spildin solemnly. 
 
 " It must have been more advantageous," 
 suggested the pupil. 
 
 "You may say that," energetically ob- 
 served the artist, *' a guinea a head ! — just 
 fancy that, I got it, and yet it did'nt pay.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 199 
 
 ril mix that colour mum, your manner is 
 too dry — you're not smooth and oily 
 enough in your manner mum — that's what 
 people like — imitate me 1" 
 
 There was a rustling in the distance at 
 this particular moment, and Mrs. Trevor was 
 seized with a slight cough. 
 
 " As I was saying mum," continued the 
 artist, " what prevented my going on taking 
 off heads was — my feelings, they was too 
 tender that they was." 
 
 " The sentiment does you honour sir," 
 observed Horace, with exemplary gravity, 
 " but I do not see exactly how ?" 
 
 ''Why you see sir, the end and aim of 
 life is to give satisfaction, ain't it ? to one- 
 self first, and then to everybody else. That 
 is an opinion sir, I never heard contradicted, 
 yet, I never saw the man that could ; well 
 sir, I did not give satisfaction. Nobody 
 thought 1 made 'em as good looking as they 
 was ! It's human nature that — and I would 
 rather draw that nature sir, which is not
 
 200 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 human ; for that don't grumble ! no it don't ; 
 — never." 
 
 He went on mixing the colours for Blanche 
 in silence, he felt that no one could contra- 
 dict him there ! 
 
 " And is it possible the people were not 
 pleased 1" said Horace, in a tone which 
 showed him thoroughly disgusted with the 
 unknown people. 
 
 " I'll tell you how it was," answered Mr. 
 Spildin ; " it was the friends — they did it ; 
 one comes in, and says, says he, * that eye 
 is very like, but t'other one wont do at all.' 
 ' The eyes is very tolerably well,' will say 
 another ; ' but that nose ! no friend of 
 Snigg's wouldn't say that nose was his.' 
 Then come another : ' La, Mr. Spildin, now 
 you've been and altered Sniggs's eye — you 
 spoilt it quite — 'taint a bit like — and 'twas 
 so very good.' * Don't you think, would say 
 one, if you cut off a bit of Sniggs's cheek 
 he'd look the better for it V I cut it off — 
 and then 1 couldn't put it on again — not 
 right, at least! Then Mrs. Spildin, she
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 201 
 
 was an objection ! she didn't like seeing so 
 many pictures of such pretty girls about — 
 she didn't. She was a pretty girl herself — 
 and she know what it is. Then you see, sir, 
 to me, with my great principle, which I 
 must always stick to of satisfaction, to my- 
 self; ^A25 wasn't that. The friends, they 
 lacerated my feelings with their observations, 
 all contrary one to the other, sir, invariable! 
 The very people, sir, whose heads I took, 
 those very people flung them in my face at 
 times, and wouldn't take 'em home ; they 
 wouldn't hang them sir ; they said they 
 wasn't like. You wouldn't have had me go 
 on after that 1 At times they wouldn't pay 
 me ; and when they did, a guinea ! no ! 
 two guineas wouldn't pay one's feelings ! 
 One man a-comiog and declaring he 
 wouldn't hang his wife — she warn't worth 
 hanging ; that was a warnin, sir — I give it 
 up. A guinea is a guinea — but Td rather 
 have half a crown, and not be lacerated 
 every hour of the day by everybody that 
 
 comes in !" 
 
 K 5
 
 202 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 *' I quite agree with you,'' said Horace. 
 
 " And so I took to landscape, sir. Trees 
 have no eyes that must look the same way, 
 which aint so easy. Trees have no friends 
 to come a fin din fault !" 
 
 '^ But people do sometimes remember 
 places," modestly suggested Horace. 
 
 " They do sir — I know that ; and so I 
 never paint a real place. I take a mount- 
 ing out of one place, and a village from 
 another, and a tree out of my head ; and as 
 there aint such a place in the world, it stops 
 their mouths, it do. They can't say it aint 
 like.'' 
 
 " Certainly not," said Blanche, flourishing 
 her brush with very unnecessary energy. 
 
 " Have you been to the exhibition '?" en- 
 quired Horace, after a pause, which was 
 really a painful one to him and his cousin. 
 
 " No, sir — I never go ; it aint no use. I 
 paint as well as they do ; only they've got a 
 name, they have !" 
 
 '" Which they don't deserve V asked 
 Horace.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 203 
 
 " Certainly not, sir," said the artist, 
 drawing himself up, and looking as proud 
 and dignified — as he could. " This, sir, 
 this, mum, which you're a going, as you 
 always do, to make an exact copy of 1 this 
 is what / call a picture ; it's nature all over, 
 though it is out of my head. The sky is 
 blue, and the clouds is grey, and tlie mount- 
 ing is blue, and trees is green, all as they 
 ought to be — nature is always as she ought 
 to be, though human nature aint ; I like to 
 make a great distinction 'tween the two — 
 it's my philosijphy. Trees are better nor 
 we are — they never do no harm ; except to 
 attract the lightning, when your'e a stand- 
 ing under 'em — and they don't do that a- 
 purpose ; their worst of enemies cant say 
 that — and praps our enemies could, of us — 
 or worse. I don't of course mean you, 
 mum, but only human creatures in general 
 — oh, where was I !" — he had rather lost 
 the thread of his discourse, and had got 
 slightly entangled in his philosophy — but;
 
 204 FAMILY FAILIJ^GS. 
 
 that was a way he had 1 — " Oh ! I was say- 
 ing that my sky was blue, and my grass 
 was green — as in duty bound it ought to be 
 if there havn't been a drought — ^and yet / 
 havn^t got a name ; but now go to the exhi- 
 bition, and look just at a pictur of that 
 man Pallet, with the name — are his trees 
 green ! I've seen a pictur of his, mum, 
 I have ; and when I went back to my home 
 and Mrs. Spildin asked me about the pictures, 
 mum ; I said, with great severity — * poach 
 me an Qgg ; I am the master in my house, 
 I am/ She poached the egg. I took a 
 canvass, mum — I said to Tom, ' bring me 
 the mustard pot — my boys do as I bid 'em, 
 that they do ; he brought the mustard pot. 
 I said to my other boy, ' bring me the ink. 
 I took the canvass, mum — I took the egg, 
 I spilt it on the canvass, mum ; I spilt the 
 mustard on the egg, just streaky, like ; I 
 took the ink, I spilt it in a blot right in the 
 middle of the egg, and drawed the ink all 
 down ; and then I told my wife, ' there, 
 wife, there is the best picture in the exhi-
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 205 
 
 bition ; that's Pallet's picture ; and he^s got 
 a name. He called it " morning," that he 
 did — I call it a poached ^gg and ink, I do. 
 I'll tell you what I heard — that Pallet sent 
 a pictur to the exhibition, and when he 
 came to see it at the private view, what do 
 you think 1 — they'd hung it topsy turvy. 
 Pallet was furious, oh, he was ; but the 
 committee said they couldn't help it — he 
 must write upon his pictures which was the 
 top — they couldn't tell — nobody couldn't 
 
 teiir
 
 206 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A FEW days after Blanche's letter Mrs. 
 Vernon wrote — 
 
 " Mj dear Boy, 
 
 " Hearing that jour dear 
 " Father, with his usual sense of justice, is 
 " about to deprive jou, of your allowance, 
 " and having no idea of his placing you in 
 " embarrassments, in which you would never 
 " entangle yourself, I have ordered ray man
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 207 
 
 " of business, to add another two hundred a 
 "year, to the sum he has already been 
 " ordered to pay quarterly, to your account ; 
 " and I hope you will write to your father 
 " and tell him, you are willing and able, 
 " Horace, to resign Ms allowance at once. 
 " I shall hope, of course, to see you as one 
 " of the family party, for Luke's wedding; 
 " and we will be merry, if Luke is not wise. 
 " I have an idea that his extreme felicity 
 " will not last long. Old people like me, 
 *' Horace, learn to see things, in such a 
 " prosaic and matter of fact, light ; but I 
 ** like young people to be happy whilst they 
 ''can. You will like your nev/ sister, 
 *' Horace, she is so fascinating, that she 
 " dazzles and blinds even me, although I 
 " flatter myself that, with my spectacles on, 
 " I really can see a little into people — but 
 " I have my doubts, and yet she has such a 
 " light heart, that even Luke will not be 
 " able to break it, I rather suspect he vvill 
 " not even bend it. 
 
 " I have such perfect confidence in you,
 
 208 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 ** my dearest nephew, that my pen follows 
 " my thoughts — very imprudent and silly at 
 " my time of life — but I can trust you. I 
 '' mean to be very gay indeed, my house 
 "will be full, and jou must be master of 
 *' the revels. Luke, as a lover, is a curious 
 " sight, it amuses me. 
 
 " I shall wish you to choose me a set of 
 " gem or rather pearls, for the bride elect, 
 *' but look about you, and let me know the 
 " price. I must be just, before I can be 
 '' generous. There certainly is more in one 
 *' of those old sayings, Horace, than in all 
 " we moderns say, or write, in a whole life- 
 " time — our wisdom is diluted — theirs is 
 *' pure spirit. So my dear boy, good-bye 
 " until we meet. 
 
 " Your most affectionate Aunt, 
 
 " Olympia Yerno^*. 
 
 She is a blessed woman that old aunt of 
 mine, thought Horace, but this is mischie-
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS, 209 
 
 vous indeed — " it makes it more impossible 
 than ever/' and repeating these words un- 
 consciously aloud — the countenance of the 
 young man assumed an expression that was 
 very like despair. 
 
 " What is the matter with you 1" enquired 
 Frederick Keane, lifting up his large eyes, 
 with wonder ; " any bad news, Horatio, in 
 your letter — letters are always bores — one 
 has to answer them — there's nothing wrong 
 I hope.'' 
 
 " Nothing," said Horace, with an absent 
 look ; and his unobservant friend was satis- 
 fied. " I shall just go out, and make some 
 calls." 
 
 '' I know where you're going," said 
 Frederick Keane, trying to look wise, and 
 really looking pert. 
 
 Horace Leigh did not answer, he was 
 sitting and looking at the letter. 
 
 " You won't be so absent when you're in 
 Grosvenor-square," said Keane triumphantly, 
 being under the delusion that he was right 
 in his conjectures. " I am not blind, I know
 
 210 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 all about it !" and he laughed a little quiet 
 laugh. 
 
 *' Grosvenor-square '? — what do you mean 1 
 — what do you know V said Horace, in 
 rather an impatient way. 
 
 *' You can't deceive me," said Fred, look- 
 ing at Horace with his large, child-like eyes, 
 full of meaning ; '* I know you are going to 
 Grosvenor-square as usual; and I expect 
 soon to congratulate. I say old fellow, you 
 might tell me before the world in general." 
 
 '' Fred," replied Horace ; " upon ray word 
 there is nothing to tell." - 
 
 "Nothing at present — not just yet, I 
 dare say," said Keane ; " but you will never 
 persuade me, that you would day, after day, 
 leave, those dearly belov-ed books of yours — 
 books that you wouldn't leave to save my 
 life — unless you left them for something, or 
 somebody, who was dearly belov-ed too ! — " 
 and Frederick stopped, persuaded in his own 
 mind, that he had made out an excellent 
 case, in a very clever manner. 
 
 When a person who has not many ideas
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 211 
 
 in general, can find one, which they con- 
 sider good, they hold to it, as a drowning 
 man to a straw ; it seems they are aware it 
 may be long before they find another. 
 
 " My dear Fred,'' said Horace gravely "if 
 you imagine I am in love with Blanche, or 
 she with me, you are uncommonly mistaken 
 — we are relations— pray remember that; 
 — and have a hundred family matters to 
 talk over." 
 
 " Family humbugs." said Keane. 
 
 And Horace, worried as he was, could not 
 help laughing at Keane's assumption of 
 wisdom and knowledge, when he was so far, 
 so very far from the truth. 
 
 This confirmed Fred in his opinion, and 
 throwing himself back in his chair he trium- 
 phantly declared — 
 
 " I knew I was right !'' 
 
 '* Never were more wrong ; (and that is 
 saying a good deal,") added Horace in his 
 own mind. 
 
 *' You can't persuade me /" said Fred, 
 " people in love are just like ostriches, they
 
 212 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 hide their heads in some corner or other, and 
 then fancy no one can see them, Horatio ; 
 it won't do, indeed it won't." 
 
 *' If you like to deceive yourself you 
 must," said Horace, *' but I am not deceiv- 
 ing you — Blanche Trevor is to me a most 
 dear sister." 
 
 " Cousins are dangerous things ! it's very 
 well to call them sisters ; very convenient 
 indeed," said Keane, in what he intended 
 for a very sarcastic tone. 
 
 " Think what you will, you put one out 
 of patience," said Horace Leigh angrily. 
 
 " I say — do you know you're not half such 
 a good temper as you used to be, no not- a 
 quarter ; but I don't wonder at you, if Miss 
 Trevor wasn't so horridly clever I should be 
 in love with her myself." 
 
 Horace had left the room before he came 
 to the conclusion of his speech, so he went 
 on thinking in his disjointed way — 
 
 '' Dear me, yes ! what nonsense !. that dear, 
 old fellow, Horace, trying to humbug me — 
 why he must see that it won't do — I've
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 213 
 
 shown him that — yes ! very well done too — 
 had him there, he hadn^t a word to say, — 
 and now if any one had accused me of car- 
 ing for Miss Trevor I should have denied it 
 that I should — like anything, and yet — upon 
 my word now I really think at one time, only 
 that no one knows it — I did care for her — 
 yes ! I did : only I soon saw that it was no 
 use ! no chance with Leigh — oh, none at all, 
 with her at least — there they were always to- 
 gether, and talking business! as he says : 
 fancy me talking business to a young lady ! 
 Horace is a clever fellow too in general; 
 but I shouldn't be such a fool as that !— 
 Well, yes ! it certainly is a pity Miss Trevor 
 is so clever as she is — it really isn't natural 
 in a woman, so elegant and gentle as she is, 
 so kind too — what a pity that she is so 
 clever — it frightens one so." 
 
 If young Frederick's thoughts had found 
 themselves words, they would have been 
 precisely these. 
 
 He sat vacantly looking at the table where 
 . his friend had left him seated — he never had
 
 214 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 anything to do, when a new novel appeared 
 he was always one of the first to read and 
 forget it ; this he did with such expedition 
 that he often read a book over for the second 
 time without finding it out, till he came to 
 some striking incident of which he could not 
 help retaining some faint recollection ; this 
 quality of forgetfulness is highly useful to a 
 novel reader, it often provides them with 
 more amusement than would fall to the lot 
 of one with a better memory, so everything 
 in this world has its use and its bright side ! 
 Good or bad every novel was the same to 
 him, provided only that it was not too good, 
 for then he voted it a bore ; and so he spent 
 his life, the very summer of his days, in a 
 kind of idle dreaminess. Horace, at times, 
 would try, even with too rude a hand, to 
 wake him up, but it was no use — the ex- 
 citement of college over, Frederick Keane 
 felt he need not exert himself, even for the 
 every day afi'airs of life ; for in their joint 
 home Horace managed everything, so he led 
 a kind of butterfly existence, and was in
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 215 
 
 point of mind and mental energy deteriorat- 
 ing fast, though manner and appearance 
 were most prepossessing still; he was meant 
 to be ornamental in this world of ours — that 
 was his part in life. 
 
 He was quite right in one thing, Horace 
 Leigh was going to the Trevors' with Mrs. 
 Vernon's letter. 
 
 He found his cousin in the drawing-room 
 alone. 
 
 " Blanche, dear Blanche, just read that 
 letter,'' said he giving it into her hands. 
 
 When she had finished it she looked up 
 with a smile of pleasure and congratulation 
 on her face, but he stopped her before she 
 had time to speak. 
 
 " Do not deny it — this is your doing, 
 Blanche, no one but you could have given 
 Aunt Yernon such early information." 
 
 ** I own I did it," replied Blanche, '' but 
 in the most careful manner, she could not 
 for a moment think you were an accom- 
 plice — one noble nature judges another 
 better !"
 
 216 FAMILY FAILIIfGS. 
 
 She saw a cloud upon Horace's face, and 
 fancied that he feared his auut should think 
 he knew of her writing: the suspicion 
 was not like her usual train of thought, but 
 she could think of no other cause for his 
 grave countenance. 
 
 " I was not afraid of your having managed 
 badly I" said Horace with a sad smile, *'you 
 are not in the haf)it of being stupid, sister 
 Blanche, nor am I afraid of good aunt Ver- 
 non's fancying anything, except that I am 
 far better than I am, but I am sorry, bitterly 
 sorry/' 
 
 Blanche looked up in astonishment. 
 
 " Sorry ! it makes you independent; for a 
 gift from her, dear, generous woman, argues 
 no dependence in the acceptance of it ; is it 
 not a relief to have the means of comfort at 
 her hands — rather than at theirs f" and she 
 uttered the last word in a tone of some dis- 
 gust. 
 
 *' My own, dear Blanche, you did it wisely, 
 kindly ; for the best ; but if I had told you 
 my thoughts, as I was just about to do a
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 217 
 
 dozen times, but something always inter- 
 rupted us ; you never would have written, 
 Blanche : you have destroyed my last faint 
 hope of happiness." 
 
 " I V said Blanche turning pale. 
 
 " I had a feeling in which you would have 
 sympathised, had I but told you !" he paused. 
 " Had I but told you Blanche, in time,^' 
 
 " Do not keep me in suspense, go on,'^ said 
 she in a hurried manner. 
 
 But he paused as it were to collect his 
 thoughts before he spoke, and the silence was 
 very painful to her excited feelings. 
 
 " What harm can I have done V said she 
 at last, quite in despair. 
 
 " I must begin, dear Blanche, I often made 
 you angry by my hesitation ; you have left 
 me in anger, when I was about to tell you 
 the real cause of my delay, would that I had ! 
 You will understand how bitterly painful it 
 would be to ask, or seem even to ask another 
 favour — more especially if it be money from 
 one who has already showered benefits upon 
 you. I dared not own to good aunt Vernon 
 
 OL. I. L
 
 218 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 that I loved, or she would at once have 
 offered to do more ; you see by this she 
 would," and he touched the letter. " Not even 
 to make Isabelle my wife, could I directly or 
 indirectly, Blanche — ash more from Mrs. 
 Vernon ; you will see this, you will feel with 
 me Blanche, you will feel for me, this was 
 the cause which prevented my speaking to 
 Isabelle Walgrave, this was the barrier which 
 I could not overstep even to secure my own 
 happine.^s for life.'^ 
 
 " I see, I understand, / could not have 
 done it either ;' said Blanche Trevor, " I 
 feel for you, I that have blamed you, Horace ; 
 you were right/' 
 
 " But listen, I had a hope, almost a certain 
 hope, mean it might be, and selfish, but those 
 who love are selfish." 
 
 ''Are they," said she in a very strange, 
 low voice. 
 
 " I had a hope that when aunt Yernon 
 heard, as she might hear by chance, by mere 
 report, or by my father ; that I loved, but 
 could not marry, I had a hope," and his voice
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS 219 
 
 trembled more and more, " that then, aunt 
 Vernon would — would, help me to be happj, 
 Blanche — that hope, you, dearest, have 
 destroyed.'' 
 
 He said this in a quiet manner, but his 
 face was full of bitter grief. 
 
 " This letter makes it more impossible than 
 ever ; before I could not ash, but now that 
 she has heaped favour on favour, 1 could not 
 receive more money at her hands ; you must 
 feel this, and yet all that I have is not 
 enough." 
 
 '* And all this,'' said Blanche, pausing at 
 almost every word, " all this, is my doing, 
 when I thought, I hoped," and slowly the 
 large tears filled her eyes, and fell one by 
 one unnoticed. 
 
 " My last hope is gone,'' said Horace 
 calmly, " I cannot hope to marry now for 
 years, and by that lime, oh, who can tell V 
 and he walked up and down slowly and sadly. 
 
 " How can I ever hope you will forgive 
 L 2
 
 220 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 me !" said poor Blanche deeply grieved at 
 the consequences of her successful hint to 
 Mrs. Yernon. 
 
 " I can have nothing to forgive, dear girl/ 
 said Horace, '' my telling you all this is the 
 best proof of my affection and my confidence 
 — if I had but told you—'' 
 
 " I might have known you would have had 
 that feeling, it is so like jou," said his cousin, 
 '' but — but, it did not strike me, and indeed 
 —indeed— I thought that I was serving you." 
 
 " 1 know you did, I know it all, but never- 
 theless you see, it was an injury, but — I can 
 never have anything to forgive in you!^ 
 
 " You may pardon this most unconscious 
 fault ;" said Blanche, brushing away the 
 tears, " but I can never forgive myself.'' 
 
 '-' Here is a prettj mess,'' said Sir Josiah, 
 entering his drawing-room that day with two 
 letters in his hand — " I thought / was out 
 of it^ but here I am appealed to — I can't 
 help it I your mother has got herself and you 
 into the me?s, and she must get you out of it
 
 FAMILY FAILLNGS. 221 
 
 i. 
 
 again. Look here — he wants an iutersaew ; 
 and here's a letter," 
 
 Louisa looked so te-rri6ed at this haran- 
 gue, and took the letter with such evident 
 disgust, that her father patted her head, 
 and bursting out laughing again at this 
 revival of the business, declared — 
 
 '' There — never mind ; you shall not 
 have him, if you don't like him ; I should 
 wonder if you did ! Your mother — ha ! ha ! 
 ha ! — persuaded me jou thought him — ha ! 
 ha ! ha ! — " he could not keep his gravity, 
 do what he would. 
 
 The unlucky Louisa, who fondly hoped 
 she had heard and seen the last of that 
 " horrid little Mr. Green," was thunder- 
 struck at finding a letter to herself, with 
 that most annoying name appended to it. 
 
 "My dear Miss Walgrave, 
 
 " The events of the last few days have 
 been so rapid and incomprehensible to me, 
 my short-lived happiness was so soon sue-
 
 222 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 ceeded by the bitterest disappointment of 
 my life, in the unqualified rejection which 
 I received from the lips of Lady Walgrave, 
 on the very day on which she had in the 
 most flattering manner allowed me to believe 
 myself accepted by you ; all this was so 
 sudden and unexpected that I was bewil- 
 dered ; and in your father's absence, I felt 
 I had a friend the less in my distress ! 
 
 *' The more I think over this affair — 
 which, were it to end now, would make the 
 misery of my life ; (for, believe me, no 
 woman was ever more deeply and dearly 
 loved by man than you are, my adored 
 Louisa, by me ! — the more I am convinced 
 that there is some mistake fatal to me !) I 
 have appealed to your father to allow me 
 an interview with him^ and I now entreat 
 you to allow me one with you ; if I am to 
 be rejected, it must be by your own lips. 
 Lady Walgrave I dare not face again, till 
 this mistake has been cleared up ; but it is 
 on you, beloved Louisa, on your tender
 
 FAMILY F/iILLNGS. 223 
 
 heart, on your gentle aflfection, that I rely ! 
 sureiy you will not reject 
 
 " Your devoted and deeply attached, 
 " Obadiah Green." 
 
 Poor Louisa had not the least idea whe- 
 ther she felt most inclined to laugh or to 
 cry ; her great idea was — " Some one must 
 have written it for him;" as she gave it to 
 her father to read, who passed it on to 
 Isabelle. 
 
 Louisa felt no inclination to put it up in 
 pocket-books, or put it up in drawers, tied 
 up with ribband ; she did not care the least 
 who read it ! 
 
 Sir Josiah was altogether useless upon 
 this puzzling matter ; he could not and 
 would not look upon it in any light but as a 
 good joke, although it was now in truth be- 
 coming serious. 
 
 The three could devise nothing but an 
 appeal to Lady Walgrave. 
 
 To her this unexpected resurrection of 
 the Green was bitterly annoying ; and her
 
 224 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 powers of action failed her altogether upon 
 this trying oceasion. 
 
 " One thing Tm quite determined on," 
 said Sir Josiah — " I will have nothing at all 
 to do with it. I can understand most 
 things, but this is beyond me altogether ; 
 you have begun, and you must finish it, my 
 dear !'' and with a broad smile, and a most 
 provoking look, he waited to hear what she 
 would arrange. 
 
 '' Interviews!" shudderingly observed she 
 — *' we must have no interviews — Louisa 
 must write." 
 
 " Thank you, mama ; oh, dear mama, 
 that is delightful/' said the poor girl, clasp- 
 ing her hands in an ecstasy of relief at the 
 idea that she need not see her little lover. 
 
 *' And you must write, my dear.'' 
 
 " Yes, my love — what ?" replied Sir 
 Josiah, with the most provoking assumption 
 of meekness and submission. 
 
 That was the puzzle — what ! 
 
 " There is but one safe course," said 
 Lady Walgrave, recovering herself in some
 
 FAMILY FAILIi\(i?. 223 
 
 degree ; " the one I took at first ; Louisa 
 must repeat what I asserted, that upon con- 
 sideration — '' 
 
 " Of his being poor," interrupted Sir 
 Josiah, with exemplary gravity. 
 
 " Consideration," said Lady Walgrave, 
 making a full stop at the word, and look- 
 ing pins and needles at her provoking hus- 
 band, who was really behaving more like a 
 naughty boy than a clever, elderly gentle- 
 man. " She does not feel herself sufficiently 
 attached to take so important a step — and 
 so on. I can write, and you can copy, my 
 dear," concluded Lady Walgrave, addressing 
 Louisa. 
 
 " And will you write mine — for that will 
 be the most difficult of the two V said Sir 
 Josiah, with his mock humility coming on 
 again. 
 
 Lady Walgrave did not condescend to 
 answer, but she gravely requested — 
 
 " That she might see it, lest, as he did 
 not quite understand the matter, he should 
 make a mistake."
 
 226 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 " I shall know which Green I am to write 
 to," said Sir Josiab, laughing out ; '* / 
 do not make mistakes — taking one person 
 for another." 
 
 And so the letters were dispatched ; and 
 they sat down again to their occupations, 
 hoping for peace and quiet. 
 
 But Mr. Green had not done with them 
 yet. 
 
 The day following this did not go by 
 without a letter from the distracted, but 
 persevering lover. 
 
 " My dear Sir Josiah, 
 
 *' Deeply attached as I have 
 become to your beautiful and fascinating 
 daughter, I should have probably acquiesced 
 in her determination to reject me, had not 
 certain rumours led me to hope that the 
 mistake between myself and my cousin may 
 have been the cause of my being accepted, 
 and then renounced.
 
 Family failixgs. 227 
 
 *' My cousin is indeed the hero of the 
 newspapers, but we are a wealthy family — 
 my own patrimony, for I am an orphan, 
 amounts to three- thousand a-year, and my 
 uncle in leaving my cousin his heir, left to 
 me also eighty-thousand pounds in ready 
 money. If therefore Lady Walgrave's treat- 
 ment of me was based on the supposition, 
 that I could not support her daughter as 
 ^uch a fair creature ought to be supported 
 — I trust. Sir Josiah, that you will see that 
 on those grounds I have nothing to fear-^I 
 will hope that I have not been led on to the, 
 height of happiness only to be dashed down 
 from it at a blow. I will still hope that 
 your lovely daughter was only actuated by 
 the prudent remonstrances of Lady Walgrave, 
 and that I may still hope to call her mine 
 for life. 
 
 ^' Yours truly 
 
 " Obadiah Green." 
 
 The communication of this letter com-
 
 228 FAMILY fail:>;gs. 
 
 pleted the measure of Ladj Walgrave's self* 
 condemnation and despair. 
 
 Here was a match ! 
 
 And she had thrown it away — poor 
 Louisa's horror lest now that he was after 
 all so rich, she might be asked to have him ! 
 was an unfounded terror. Not even Lady 
 Walgrave could do that, and that made her 
 more unhappy than ever ; it was her doing 
 from lirst to last, and now she really had 
 not the courage to make her daughter own 
 how much her affections depended on his 
 money ! 
 
 '* Lost, lost, such a match r exclaimed 
 she aloud. 
 
 " And such a man /" gravely added her 
 husband. 
 
 " Louisa you must write — ho, I mean Sir 
 Josiah, and repeat all about her affections," 
 said Lady Walgrave uttering this absurd 
 sentence with a grave countenance of blank 
 despair. " I have indeed managed badly for 
 I have lost them both.'*
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 229 
 
 *' My love," said Sir Josiah, " your silly 
 plots and plans are always ending in 
 some scrape — why can't you give them 
 upr 
 
 He never thought of giving up his own.
 
 230 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A LARGE party was assembled at High Elms, 
 to celebrate the approaching wedding of 
 Luke Leigh and his fair intended. The 
 grounds were in great beauty, and it was as 
 pleasant a life, as well could be, to spend 
 the heat of the day, under the deep and 
 tranquil shade of the old Elms, and to ride 
 and walk, through the long summer day, 
 when it was cooler. 
 
 To leave hot, dusty, smoky London, with 
 its noise and glare, for the deep quiet of one
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 231 
 
 of our country homes, is a calming and de- 
 licious thing ; truly refreshing, both to 
 body and mind, and yet the sudden 
 absence of excitement, the perfect silence 
 generally makes one drowsy. This is not a 
 romantic idea, but it is true. 
 
 It was a very hot afternoon, about ten 
 days before the time appointed for the wed- 
 ding, and Emily was spending the day at 
 Mrs. Vernon's. 
 
 There was one favorite spot in the 
 grounds to which the whole party had re- 
 sorted, it was one of those days on whic^i 
 it is much too hot to do anything, few and 
 far between in our cold and wintry summers, 
 when such days do come they are propor- 
 tionably prized. 
 
 There was a slight slope in the grass under 
 the grand old trees which spread their ver- 
 dant boughs far and wide, a long avenue 
 opened to the right its vista of green and 
 shade — there is something fascinating to 
 the imagination in an avenue with its long 
 perspective leading off, perhaps you know
 
 232 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 not where. There is a something left to 
 fancy ; and it seems almost like a glimpse 
 into the far off future, the knowledge of 
 which is so wisely and mercifully withheld 
 from us. 
 
 An opening through the trees nearer at 
 hand gave a view of the country with the 
 blue hills beyond ; and altogether it was a 
 spot favoured by nature : the squirrels, undis- 
 mayed by the unwonted sound of many 
 voices, were jumping as merrily as ever from 
 bough to bough, and through the trees ever 
 and anon slowly passed the deer, stopping 
 with their beautiful heads raised in wonder 
 to look at the party, and then bounding 
 away in fear. 
 
 The buzz of the insects was the only sound 
 the ear could catch in any temporary silence 
 of the merry group, who were enjoying 
 the shade — Mrs. Vernon with her brother, 
 and Mrs. Leigh and the Trevors had seats 
 which had been placed under the favourite 
 elms, but Horace and Blanche, Luke and 
 his pretty Emily were lounging comfortably
 
 FAMILY FA1LI^'GS. 233 
 
 on the soft and mossy grass, whilst 
 Frederick Keane's handsome face in a glow 
 of pleasure was one of the happiest of 
 the party. 
 
 " If there were many such days as this, 
 one would begin to understand the " Dolce 
 far niente,^^ observed Horace to Blanche, who 
 with her bonnet off, was enjoying the slight 
 breeze which now and then moderated the 
 extreme heat. 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't speak French," said 
 Fred in a reproachful tone, displaying that 
 extraordinary ignorance of modern languages 
 which even clever, and well educated gentle- 
 men are by no means ashamed of. English- 
 men standing quite alone in that peculiarity. 
 
 Horace exchanged a look with Blanche 
 who looked away, and Emily flinging back 
 her dancing curls just like a child, fairly 
 laughed aloud. 
 
 " What are you laughing at, sweetest ?" 
 said Luke, bending a look of admiration upon 
 her sparkling eyes.
 
 234 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 '' Mr. Keane doesn't know French from 
 Italian !'' said she. 
 
 *' Neither do I," said Luke, and his brow 
 grew slightly dark, " but I hope you will not 
 laugh at me !" 
 
 " Oh yes I shall — we shall be getting into 
 famous scrapes abroad," replied his pretty 
 fiancee laughing still ; "if I had known that, 
 I wouldn't have agreed to — go abroad, at all, 
 or anything of that sort ; perhaps it is still 
 time Luke to — break it off," she whispered. 
 
 Luke looked angrily at her, but she was 
 watching an adventurous squirrel, and 
 screamed out, "good gracious, what a jump!" 
 just as he was going to say something in his 
 usual, or rather his old manner ; for love 
 had softened him more than could well have 
 been believed. 
 
 So he had time to recover himself, before 
 she looked at him again, and then he was 
 all smiles ; he could not yet look at that 
 sunny face, and feel ill-tempered ; so he bent 
 down and whispered,
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 235 
 
 " If you wont break our engagement off, 
 we will travel in great state, we'll have a 
 courier." 
 
 " Famous, he can hear for us ; see for us ; 
 understand for us !" said Emilj looking up 
 archly at him. " Will you engage him, Luke, 
 to see for us ; 'twill save us so much trouble, 
 and we shall be, I know it — just as wise !'' 
 
 " You shall do what you please,'' said Luke 
 enthusiastically. 
 
 " And you must do so too/' said Emily, 
 holding up her taper finger, at selfish, rough 
 Luke Leigh, as if he had been a playful 
 child. 
 
 "I will, I promise," answered Luke, think- 
 ing he never saw her look so lovely, 
 
 Emily turned her sunny face full upon 
 him and with a smile of no common fascina- 
 tion, said " Good Boy." 
 
 What silly little — very little nothings 
 amuse great men and women when they are 
 in love. 
 
 Luke was enchanted. 
 
 Blanche Trevor had just caught the angry
 
 236 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 look which Emily had lost by watching the 
 lively squirrel, and she whispered to 
 Frederick. 
 
 " See now what mischief you have done.*' 
 
 " I V said the innocent man. 
 
 " By not understanding Italian you have 
 nearly made that pair, so happy till you 
 spoke, you have nearly made them quarrel, 
 pray did you see that look V 
 
 " I did Miss Trevor ; nothing particularly 
 new in it," said Fred, wisely nodding his 
 head. 
 
 " Quite new to her; and you the cause of 
 it.'' 
 
 " Fm always getting into scrapes,'' said 
 Fred in a piteous tone, " and I never under- 
 stand how, I'm sure I don't know what I've 
 done.'' 
 
 " Oh, never mind," said Horace, " Blanche 
 do not tease poor Fred." 
 
 " That's right Horatio ;" said Keane, 
 brightening up — " you are so dreadfully 
 clever you two, I never know what I'm 
 about."
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 237 
 
 • " You very easily believe yourself to be 
 wrong, Mr. Keane," said Blanche, " you really 
 said and did nothing — quite as usual," added 
 she. 
 
 " Oh didn't I— then I'm all right, (that's 
 folly,) said he, finishing the last two words 
 quite to himself, they being his favorite 
 expression. 
 
 " Much ado about nothing," said Horace, 
 rather impatiently, " this heat makes one 
 quite silly." 
 
 " / don't find it does," said Keane in the 
 most unconscious manner. 
 
 " Don't you," said Horace, and Blanche 
 looked away. 
 
 " How you can make a friend of such a 
 foolish creature," said Blanche to Horace 
 that evening, " is wonderful to me — depend 
 upon it you will have reason to repent it 
 some of these days." 
 
 '' Never !" said Horace, " he has such a 
 heart." 
 
 '* The heart is a blind guide to him, for
 
 238 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 he sees nothing," answered she, " a clever 
 man like you ! — " 
 
 '* I have observed," interrupted Horace, 
 *' that two clever people like, but never do 
 love one another, Blanche/' 
 
 " I hncw it/' replied she in a strange 
 voice, and she moved on. 
 
 Frederick Keane was not in a good- 
 humour (for him) that evening ; the little 
 scene when they were sitting in the shade so 
 quietly, grated upon his mind, although he 
 scarcely knew why it did so ; he had an 
 undefined, and yet a perpetually recurring 
 idea that he had been laughed at, there were 
 so many little words, and tones so perfectly 
 incomprehensible to him, that he fancied, 
 actually began to discover, that they were 
 quizzing him, and he felt humiliated. 
 
 " Horatio alone was bad enough, but be 
 and Miss Trevor were too much !" 
 
 Emily was as blithe as a bird, she went 
 about the house singing, she was delighted 
 to go abroad, delighted with Luke, and de- 
 lighted with her new dresses.
 
 FAMILY FAILIXGS. 239 
 
 " My goodness, Charlotte \" said she as 
 they were examining a new arrival from the 
 milliner's. " It is quite worth while to be 
 married, isn't it now, to have such a lovely 
 dress as this ? I always was as happy as a 
 queen, but I have been more so since I was 
 engaged, it is so very amusing to have some 
 one running about after you, just like Carlo, 
 between ourselves,'' and she patted her pet 
 spaniel, and laughed merrily — " Yes, just 
 like you, old dog !'' she continued, finishing 
 her speech to Carlo who sat vehemently 
 wagging his feathery tail, *' running and 
 jumping about at a word, and doing every- 
 thing I tell him ; — just like you it is ! — and 
 being quite unliappy if I do but hold up 
 my finger so !" and the dog, accustomed to 
 be scolded in that way, looked as guilty, and 
 foolish as a black and tan spaniel could — 
 till she burst out into her merry, childish 
 laugii, making her good and sober sister 
 Charlotte look grave and shake her head at 
 her unthinking sister. 
 
 *' Yes, I have been a hoppy creature all
 
 024 FAMILY FAILI^'GS. 
 
 my life, and if I am to go on being happier, 
 and happier as Luke declares I shall — I 
 don't know what I shall come to !'' 
 
 And delighted at this fair vision of the 
 future, Emily suddenly seized Carlo's pretty 
 front paws, and began dancing about the 
 room in so ridiculous a pas dedenx, that 
 Charlotte herself laughed till the tears stood 
 in her eyes at the piteous but resigned face 
 of- the unlucky dog ; who dancing till Emily 
 released him, was so overcome with fatigue 
 that he curled himself up upon one of the 
 new dresses and went off into a deep 
 sleep of exhaustion at which Emily was too 
 much amused to disturb him. 
 
 " Emily, Emily !" said her sister, " how 
 are you ever to get through the duties of life 
 if you are so giddy '?" 
 
 " That is exactly what I don't know,'' 
 said Emily, " but begone dull care, is the 
 motto for me,'' and in a sweet, rich voice 
 she began to sing the old familiar ditty, 
 waking up Carlo in a fright. 
 
 Just then her maid knocked at the door
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 241 
 
 with a very smiling face, and announced a 
 box from London. One of the servants 
 opened it outside and brought it into the 
 room where they were sitting ; it was the old 
 school-room. 
 
 '* Here, bring it in, Thomas,'' she ex- 
 claimed, '* this doesn't look much like a 
 school-room now — the piano, horrid old 
 thing, at which I had to sit for hours is all 
 over new bonnets ! — a beautiful pink silk 
 gown is spread out upon the terrestrial globe 
 making the world all couleur de rose ! really 
 a good idea that, for it is so to me. — A 
 blue satin covers the celestial globe, neat 
 and appropriate," continued Emily, " a 
 new edition, Charlotte, of the use of the 
 globes — dear me^ what a pity Luke isn't 
 here to hear all my wit — it is not often I 
 am either witty, or wise, is it ? — New 
 gowns, collars, and gloves where there used 
 to be nothing but books and copy-books — 
 what a blessing it is to be out of the school- 
 room ! — Not that I mind being in it as it 
 
 VOL. L M
 
 242 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 is,** said the Jiancee laughing, and whirling 
 round upon one foot. 
 
 Charlotte was shaking her head at her in- 
 corrigible absurdities, but when she caught 
 her eyes, she pointed to the box, which had 
 bj this time been unpacked, and there fully 
 displayed was a sight which silenced Emily, 
 merry as her mood had been. 
 
 It was her wedding-dress ; and made the 
 fact that she was going from her home and 
 going to another — very real and very 
 near. 
 
 She sat down quietly and looked at it 
 in silence, and Charlotte would not interrupt 
 the train of her thoughts ; but Emily's happy 
 face was not made to express care or anxiety 
 even for a moment, and tossing back her 
 bright curls which the downcast position of 
 her pretty head had brought too much over 
 her blushing face, she shook, as it were, all 
 serious thought away. 
 
 " I shall be happier than I have been, so 
 why should I feel sad. I shall have nothing 
 to do with housekeeping and keys; I do not
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 243 
 
 believe Charlotte/' continued she, that I 
 could lock up anything if I were to try 1" 
 
 '' You silly child," said Charlotte. 
 
 *' I don't believe that Luke would care 
 for me one half so much as he does if I were 
 not so silly," said Emily laughing, " it is a 
 pleasant thing for him to feel immeasurably 
 my superior — not that I think he is — be- 
 tween ourselves, grave sister mine." 
 
 " Don't let him see that you think that," 
 said Charlotte in some alarm, for she had 
 looked into Luke's character with her calm, 
 steady eyes, and well-hidden as it was just 
 now, she had read more than she liked ; 
 when it was too late. 
 
 '' Don't be afraid, I tarn him round my 
 finger,'' laughingly asserted Emily, *' he is 
 a nice, dear, darling, pet of a slave ; for 
 life ! — and what is more. Miss Charlotte, 
 don't be shocked and scold, but I shall flirt 
 just every bit as much as I shall please — he 
 does not know what it is to be jealous." 
 
 " Emily, you were silly ; now you are 
 wrong, unprincipled." 
 M 2
 
 244 FAMILY FAILLVGS. 
 
 ** Not in the least," said Emily, '* not I ; 
 what does it matter if I love him. Surely 
 I may amuse myself — I amuse him enough, 
 why should I not have my turn V^ 
 
 "• Hush, hush, dear sister, do not say 
 such things even to me," said Charlotte 
 looking pained and sorrowful. 
 
 Emily flew to her, put her arms round her 
 and kissed her forehead. 
 
 *' There, there," she said, just as she 
 would have spoken to a child, /* I didn't 
 mean to vex it, I only meant to teaze — I 
 was in fun ; for gay and giddy as I am, I 
 love deeply and dearlj — you and Luke." 
 
 Charlotte kissed her tenderly, and stroked 
 her fair young head ; the fascination of 
 Emily's manner was perfectly irresistible. 
 
 Another knock at the door interrupted 
 the sisters, and the smiling maid-servant 
 brought in a small, mysterious-looking box 
 in one hand, and in the other was a smaller 
 parcel. 
 
 The first was opened, and in its case of 
 crimson velvet lay a set of pearls — it was
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 245 
 
 Mrs. Yernon's present to her new niece. 
 With all the anxiety of a child Emily 
 eagerly unfastened the parcel, it contained 
 a very lovely ruby and diamond broach. 
 
 *' From that dear Horace I declare ; how 
 very kind and generous ; if I did not already 
 think myself a fortunate creature, I should 
 consider it a happiness to have such a dear 
 brother, as we have never had one, Char- 
 lotte." 
 
 " He - will indeed be a brother to you, 
 and a guide should you require one,' 
 answered Charlotte, thinking sadly how 
 much more fortunate Emily would be in 
 her new brother than in her husband. 
 
 *' I am dreadfully afraid of him — he 
 watches so, and yet he can't help smiling 
 at my nonsense ; dear, good, awfully steady 
 Horace, I have a presentiment he will one 
 day do me a great service, Charlotte, and 
 my presentiments always come right, cr 
 wrong — invariably !" 
 
 And the gay fiancee having put on the 
 pearls and fastened on the broach, ran
 
 246 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 wildly down the stairs to show them to her 
 father. Looking into the drawing-room to see 
 in the tall glass what their effect might be, 
 she encountered Luke, who having just ridden 
 over detained his pretty lady-love. 
 
 " It is quite worth while to be married, 
 Luke," she exclaimed; *' one has such pre- 
 sents !" 
 
 Luke had brought his ; Blanche had com- 
 missioned him to present her little gifts, and 
 when Charlotte, with unpardonable stupidity, 
 entered the room in which, in justice to her 
 it must be said, she had no idea of finding 
 Luke ; she discovered Emily all smiles and 
 blushes, laughing more merrily than usual ; 
 Luke had her hand which she was endeavour- 
 ing to withdraw, and he was trying on her 
 wedding-ring. 
 
 All these eras of a woman's life were to 
 that young and thoughtless girl, just out of 
 the school-room, so much amusement, and 
 she greeted Charlotte with a face of infinite 
 glee, declaring—
 
 FAMILY FAILLVGS, 247 
 
 " That she felt like a princess in the Ara- 
 bian Nights Tales ; all over jewels." 
 
 " Well, Horace/' said Mrs. Vernon ; 
 " what saj you to your sister." 
 
 " The most wild and fascinatiog child." 
 replied the nephew. 
 
 " Do you think she cares for Luke," en- 
 quired the aunt. 
 
 " 1^0 ! but she never will care for any 
 one." 
 
 " You have judged her rightly; luckily 
 for her, her heart is so light, it cannot be 
 touched — or broken." 
 
 " You infer much,'' replied Horace. 
 
 " I mean much," answered the old 
 lady ; " the less Luke^s wife is capable of 
 feeling, the better ; had she had one shadow 
 more of it, I would have warned her ; it is 
 a melancholy thing to see that young crea- 
 ture, dancing on towards her fate, Horace ; 
 it makes me sad, it is upon my conscience
 
 248 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 but the warning would have been in vain, how 
 can I expect her to believe him to be what 
 he is ; was ever change so great 1" 
 
 ** I must watch over her," said Horace, 
 in a tone of deep feeling ; " I love her as 
 something too bright ever to be dimmed 
 bj sorrow, but as you saj — Luke's wife !" 
 
 " This mood can't last," said Mrs. Yer- 
 non ; " but Emily has such a temper, I will 
 hope for the best, though when one has 
 reached my age one seldom sees, reason to 
 hope." 
 
 " Sad doctrine, aunt." 
 
 " But true," said Mrs. Vernon. 
 
 '' I have one sister,'^ said Horace ; " one 
 already in dear Blanche, but Emily — " 
 
 " I wish,'' said Mrs. Vernon fixing her 
 eyes upon her nephev/'s face; " earnestly 
 wish Blanche were not to you, a sister as 
 you call her." 
 
 A deep glow suddenly came upon the 
 countenance of poor Horace ; " What an 
 opportunity ! what might he not have told 
 if only, Blanche had not written that un-
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 249 
 
 lucky letter." These thoughts were more 
 than he could bear ; thej were standing by 
 the open window, and unable to face his 
 aunt's keen eyes, he sprang out upon the 
 lawn, without giving her an answer. 
 
 Mrs. Yernon smiled as she watched him, 
 smiled as she thought of his confusion. 
 
 " If any thing could make me more 
 happy than I am,'' th(mght she ; '' it would 
 be that. So suited to one another; both 
 so good, so highly principled, so fond of 
 one another too — yet there is a something, 
 which has made me doubt — but his embar- 
 rassment ! Ah it will be some day I see !" 
 
 How wrongly are we judged by those who 
 know us best. 
 
 Horace, poor fellow, paced the shrub- 
 beries, in a reverie, full of the most bitter 
 thoughts ; what a deep injury Blanche had 
 done him with his aunt ; and how com- 
 pletely ignorant was Mrs. Vernon of the 
 state of things, when she could, cautious as 
 she was, express a wish, that he should 
 
 M 5
 
 250 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 marry Blanche— how strange it was that 
 every one should think of that, except him- 
 self and her ! — 
 
 Bright and happy, as many deemed the 
 prospects of Horace Leigh, there were few 
 people, favored as he was by outward things, 
 who were so thoroughly unhappy as he was 
 during his long and solitary walk — and yet 
 he might so easily have been happy, could 
 he have flung away the scruples of his deli- 
 cate and grateful mind. 
 
 " If he would but have asked for more, 
 where he had already received so much/' 
 
 He had put obstacles in his own path, for he 
 had obliged poor penitent Blanche, to promise 
 she would not, by word or deed, inform his 
 aunt of his attachment, and in answer to 
 her entreaties, he had at length qualified 
 this exacted promise, by adding — 
 
 " Well — at least not yet — the time may 
 come.'' And with this she had been obliged 
 to rest content and silent. 
 
 What strange creatures we are ; we shape 
 our course, sometimes with desperate obsti-
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 251 
 
 nacj, knowing the while in our own hearts 
 that we may bitterly repent it 
 
 But it is no time to moralise when 
 Langton Park, and High Elms, are in a 
 fever of excitement, for the morning of the 
 wedding has arrived, and Luke is calling 
 hastily for this and that, and using no 
 gentle language, right and left. 
 
 The bride is sitting in her white satin and 
 lace, and Charlotte, with trembling lips and 
 tearful eyes, is trying to steady her hand 
 sufficiently to place the orange flower wreath 
 upon the fair young head; at Emily's feet 
 sits Carlo ; but with the strange instinct of 
 his race, he evidently sees something is the 
 matter, and his large eyes are full of 
 wonder. 
 
 " Ah, Carlo dear ! you see Tm going ; yes 
 to leave Papa, and Charlotte, — yes, and you, 
 and Langton ; I am going^ Carlo ;" and her 
 voice, for the first time in her life, had such 
 a tone of grief, that Carlo put his forepaws 
 upon her bridal lace, and whined pite- 
 ously.
 
 252 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 '' Hush Carlo, hush, don't make me cry/' 
 and Emilj was more affected by the strange 
 manner of the dog, than she had been in all 
 her life before, a feeling of superstition 
 came upon her, and she said to her sister — 
 
 " Is it not very unlucky to hear the 
 howling of a dog 1" 
 
 " Yes," replied Charlotte, trying to laugh 
 — " but Carlo only whined ; and — there, 
 my darling sister — you are ready now." 
 
 She led her to the glass, and it reflected 
 back so fair a sight, that Emily could not 
 resist a smile. 
 
 A country wedding is a prettier sight 
 than one in town ; the school-children in 
 new aitire, all curtseying to the young 
 lady they were so sorry to lose — the blessings 
 of the old people, to whom she had been so 
 kind from a young child — the personal in- 
 terest of all the lookers on of the village 
 that their young lady was going to be mar- 
 ried — the picturesque appearance of the 
 wedding party itself, who were all obliged 
 to walk from the churchyard gate up to the
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 253 
 
 church door, displaying themselves, in all 
 their bravery, to the admiring croA^d, who 
 could not restrain their shouts, when the 
 bride and bridegroom, arm in arm, past 
 through their ranks, after the ceremony : 
 everything looked bright. 
 
 Emily had been rather nervous, but when 
 once seated with Luke at the breakfast 
 table, her spirits returned, and she laughed 
 and talked merrily ; whilst nestling at her 
 feet, apparently shrinking^ from the merri- 
 ment around, too happy to be her footstool, 
 as if he had known it was for the last time, 
 was Carlo. 
 
 Presently some one called her, in asking 
 her to take wine, " Mrs. Leigh !'" 
 
 She did not look up — she did not know 
 it was to her they spoke ; and when Luke 
 whispesed to her, and she understood, her 
 laugh and blush were very beautiful. 
 
 Truly Luke Leigh was a most lucky man. 
 
 Then the time came when they must 
 part — Emily, and her father ; and she felt 
 that a little, but not much — Luke gave her
 
 254 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 SO little time to take leave of them all ; 
 he hurried her into the carriage — and they 
 were gone. 
 
 A gloom came over the wedding guests ; 
 there always is a blank when the chief 
 actors of the scene are gone ; but there 
 was a sad impression on all those who knew 
 Luke Leigh ; they felt all was not gold 
 that glittered : so the guests separated into 
 pairs, and strolled hither and thither through 
 the grotinds ; Mrs. Vernon retired to rest 
 herself till the evening ; but strange to say 
 by far the most important circumstance of 
 the remainder of the day was that Fred 
 found himself neglected and alone.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 255 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 It was seven o'clock on a lovely summer's^ 
 morning, when a steamer, which had just 
 started from Cologne, puflPed and panted its 
 smoky way up the sunny banks of the 
 Rhine ; even at that early hour the passen- 
 gers were already thinking of breakfast, for 
 they had left their couches at the German 
 hour of five. 
 
 Two merry English girls descended with 
 their party into the cabin, for the purpose 
 of taking this early refreshment ; and their 
 attention was soon attracted by a young
 
 256 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 couple seated at a small table, close to them, 
 who, bj the unnecessary proximity of their 
 heads, and the vast variety " of nods, and 
 becks, and wreathed smiles," were evidently 
 lovers ; as they were quite alone, the probabi- 
 lity and indeed the fact was, that they were 
 newly married lovers. 
 
 The English party alluded to soon left the 
 breakfast table for the deck ; and the young 
 girls walked up and down, and, to amuse 
 themselves, examined the boxes and bags 
 piled up in order. One set of perfectly new 
 partmanteaus, dressing-cases, and boxes of 
 every description caught their eyes. 
 
 "* I have a conviction," said one young 
 girl to her sister, " that those things belong 
 to our devoted friends down stairs !" 
 
 They looked at the name, which was 
 ostentatiously displayed in brass plates upon 
 each and all. 
 
 The name was Leigh. 
 
 " My dearest 1" said Luke to his pretty 
 wife, *• I cannot stand this horrible cabin 
 any longer — I must go.''
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 257 
 
 " Don't leave me, Luke, for I can't bear 
 the deck." 
 
 " Oh, never mind — come up ; I can't 
 stay here," said Luke, with a touch of his 
 old self. 
 
 And Emily looked up at him in astonish- 
 ment; but after a moment's thought, she 
 put on her large shawl, with his ready as- 
 sistance, and went with him on deck. 
 
 Emily seated herself on a small camp 
 stool ; and after standing a few moments 
 near her, with his sullen face all smiles, 
 Luke nodded affectionately at her, and began 
 to walk up and down the deck, for the 
 sun had disappeared, and the wind was ris- 
 ing ; Emily took a book ; she glanced up 
 and met the gaze of the two girls who were 
 evidently English ; they could not resist 
 looking at her, she was so pretty, and so 
 distinguee in her appearance. She returned 
 their gaze, but made no movement towards 
 acquaintanceship — she was too young a tra- 
 veller for that ; and so like half the 
 English on the Rhine, she read in solitary
 
 258 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 grandeur, instead of looking round to mark 
 how different every object and every colour 
 in earth or sky are to those in merry 
 England, or amusing herself with the people 
 and indeed the characters around her. 
 Upon the whole, though, accustomed as she 
 had been never to be alone, she began to 
 think this travelling was very dull. 
 
 Meantime the two English girls were 
 greatly enjoying themselves, they had both 
 a slight knowledge of German, and were 
 making use of it in the best way they could, 
 a party of German's — who though not ladies 
 were agreeable and well-behaved — had 
 gladly entered into a laughable and highly 
 amusing conversation with them, broken 
 every two mintues by some sudden impossi- 
 bility of understanding one another ; the 
 eldest of the two sisters had a quick wit and 
 a quick ear, pronouncing sentences which 
 she had learnt, in the most plausible manner, 
 and with the most correct accent ; so that her 
 new German friends, deceived by her ap- 
 parent proficiency, answered her in those
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 259 
 
 terribly long, involved sentences, not one 
 word of which she could understand, whilst 
 her slower sister unable to talk one half so 
 plausibly, stammered her broken sentences, 
 but as they shortened and simplified their 
 answers to her, was able fully to understand 
 them ! so the tortoise as usual won the race. 
 Presently one German, apparently a solid 
 tradesman, seated near the helm, took up a 
 leading part in the conversation with those 
 around him ; and began to relate many 
 amusing anecdotes ; by the smiles of the 
 young English girl who understood, though 
 seated at some distance from him, Emily, 
 who perceived that he was making even 
 the quiet Germans laugh, saw that he must 
 be very entertaining, and she looked down 
 at her book, with a wish that she too 
 understood German ; not one word of this 
 difficult language did Emily, or her husband 
 comprehend, although she had the usual 
 knowledge of French, acquired by a country 
 girl who has never spoken to any foreigner 
 but her master : Luke neither knew or under-
 
 260 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 stood a word of either, but as thej had a 
 clever and energetic courier they had not as 
 yet suffered much inconvenience, except that 
 her lady's-maid who had lived with her from 
 childhood came up to her at the hotel at 
 Cologne in a violent state of agitation, de- 
 claring — 
 
 '* That she never saw such a country in 
 her life, there wasn't a bit of fire to be seen 
 except through a little door into the oven, 
 and the only bit of fire she could get to dry 
 her wet cloak, was in a pan in a hen- 
 coop !" 
 
 The morning was getting more and more 
 chilly, so Emily beckoned to Luke, and told 
 him she wished to descend into the cabin ; 
 accustomed as he was to a great deal of 
 active exercise he was not to be tempted 
 there even to oblige her, and so the poor 
 tnide was left alone with her book, to her 
 very great astonishment. She had now lost 
 the amusement of the people who were around 
 her on deck, and she was more dull than 
 ever.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 261 
 
 The hour was approaching when all Ger- 
 many must have its noon-day meal — do 
 what you will, go where you will in Ger- 
 many, you may be certain at one o'clock of 
 dinner — fir:5t of all the waiters spread the 
 long tables, and poor Emily was driven into 
 a corner, then stragglers came down one by 
 one by instinct, to' secure good places, and 
 of these many with light moustache and 
 light blue eyes, which with their broad faces 
 proclaimed their nation ; here a Hungarian 
 baron with a long beard ; there a Dutch 
 officer with a short pointed beard looking 
 like a Vandyke on leave of absence from its' 
 frame ; these and some ill-behaved English- 
 men, one and all stared at so young and 
 pretty a woman as Emily sitting there alone 
 — occasionally she looked up, but meeting 
 one after another the glances of these for- 
 midable faces all " bearded like the Pard '' 
 (though what a Pard is had always been a 
 mystery to her, and some other readers of 
 the phrase), she blushed more and more 
 deeply, and tried to read calmly on — by
 
 262 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 this she lost her opportunity of moving ; for 
 her admiring neighbours had seated them- 
 selves near her, and her way to the deck 
 was barred. 
 
 Presently the clatter of the long German 
 dinner began with its roast beef after Vanille 
 cream, and fish after puddings — and when 
 Luke at last descended to look for poor 
 Emily, he could neither reach the place 
 where she was sitting nor could she come 
 to him. 
 
 She was not dining, for they intended to 
 spend the rest of the day at Ehrenbreitstein ; 
 and there she sat, poor inexperienced young 
 traveller, in a really unpleasant situation. 
 
 Time will bring all things to an end ; and 
 at last Luke reached the seat by his poor 
 wife, who, with the tears in her eyes, 
 said — 
 
 " Oh, Luke, how could you leave me 
 here, alone V 
 
 " How could you put yourself into this 
 out of the way corner," said Luke — " why 
 didn't you come on deck 1"
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 263 
 
 ** I really felt afraid to move," replied 
 poor Emily ; ^' they all came crowding in ; I 
 thought of nothing but getting out of the 
 way. You should have come to me, dear 
 Luke.'^ 
 
 " You couldn't expect me to come and 
 sit in this horrid place," said Luke ; " all 
 your own fault, my love ; why did you come 
 down here at all — and what upon earth did 
 you get into this scrape for V^ 
 
 '' I really couldn't help it," said poor 
 Emily. " I expected you every moment ; 
 it was so very dull here all alone ; and then 
 when they all came down to dinner, the 
 clatter and the noise — ^you haven't an idea 
 how horrible it was." 
 
 " All your own fault," said Luke getting 
 cross at the very shadow of blame to him- 
 self. 
 
 ** And then, Luke, dear, those men stared 
 at me so, I really was quite terrified ; and 
 some of them spoke to me, Luke !" 
 
 " All your own fault," replied the young 
 husband, with his old spirit coming fast upon
 
 264 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 him ; " if you hadn't stared at them they 
 wouldn't have stared at you." 
 
 To this most unjust accusation the young 
 wife only answered " Luke !" but the tone 
 of her voice spoke volumes ; and a part of 
 her love for her husband departed from that 
 hour — never to return again. 
 
 She could scarcely believe he could have 
 spoken so, except in joke ; and at the idea 
 she turned her fair face to his, with her 
 own sunny smile ; but upon his face was the 
 sullen home-look, which she had never seen 
 before. 
 
 Luke was indignant ! 
 
 " Well, Emily," he said, '' if my only 
 reward for coming down into this hole of a 
 cabin, with the remains of the dinner, is 
 to be a series of reproaches, 1 shall leave 
 you. I will not be found fault with by my 
 own wife.'' 
 
 '-' I did not mean to blame you,'' said 
 Emily, in a sweet, humble voice — " only I 
 have been so miserable for these last two
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 265 
 
 hours; — if you are going, take me with you, 
 Luke/^ 
 
 And he sullenly and silently handed her 
 into a place on the deck, and left her to 
 pursue his walk. He was thoroughly out 
 of temper. 
 
 And this was their first quarrel. 
 
 When Luke Leigh was angry he must 
 visit it upon somebody ; he never recovered 
 himself until he had had a battle royal, if not 
 with the original cause or object of his ire, 
 it must be with some one else ; and being 
 now, after a long interval of peace and 
 quiet, thoroughly put out, and not liking as 
 yet to carry the quarrel with his pretty 
 bride any farther, he was literally looking 
 out for some offence from somebody. 
 
 The opportunity was not long to be waited 
 for. On landing at Coblentz, and crossing 
 the bridge of boats, which spans the Rhine, 
 to the inn at the foot of the castle ; difficul- 
 ties arose with the carriage, and venting his 
 pent up wrath upon the unlucky courier, 
 Luke finally paid and dismissed him. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 And then their troubles began ! 
 
 The money ! of which a handful is worth 
 nothing, and copper apparently more valu- 
 able than silver. 
 
 The arrangements, in which you feel 
 confident you are cheated, if you did but 
 know how ! 
 
 The delightful feeling of not knowing 
 one word of all that is said to you on the 
 most important subjects ! — it was very par- 
 ticularly pleasant. 
 
 The very next morning, Mrs. Cole, the 
 lady's maid, rather ironically enquired of 
 her mistress how the boxes were to be corded. 
 By dint of an application a porter was sum- 
 moned, but as the waiter, who could say 
 yes and no, in English, was called away, 
 poor Emily was left face to face with the 
 stupid, but good-tempered German, to ex- 
 plain what she wanted. 
 
 This, by dint of an expressive pantomime, 
 of drawing with her finger an imaginary 
 cord round the box, and tying with her
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 267 
 
 pretty little hands an imaginary knot on 
 the top, she perfectly succeeded in. 
 
 It was now the turn of the stolid porter to 
 explain by shrugging his heavy shoulders 
 and spreading his broad hands out in despair, 
 after looking all about the room in a verj^ 
 odd way, that he did not see any cord ! 
 
 Mrs. Cole who had been standing by, 
 looking very helpless and very much dis- 
 gusted was also appealed to, and asserted to 
 her mistress — 
 
 " That the poor, dear currier, who was 
 gone, had left it downstairs,'' and she in- 
 voluntarily added, '* and what we are to 
 do without him / don't know.'' 
 
 Poor Emily was amazingly puzzled, and 
 after expending all her powers of pantomime 
 in vain ; her only resource was to beckon to 
 the despairing porter to follow all the way 
 down the long gallery of the hotel to the 
 staircase ; down which she energetically 
 pointed, after drawing an imaginary and 
 very long piece of cord repeatedly through 
 her fair fingers. 
 
 N 2
 
 268 • FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 The porter stared at her in a vacant 
 manner for some moments, then suddenly 
 comprehending her, he smiled and nodded at 
 Emilj in the most familiar and good-natured 
 manner, and leisurely proceeded down stairs ^ 
 taking his time, like all his people, to such a 
 degree, that Emily began to fear he would 
 never come back. 
 
 Mrs. Cole's indignation at this affair of 
 the cord was very great. 
 
 " Well, ma'am, I never saw such a thing 
 as a young lady like you obliged to act just 
 like a scene in a pantomime with a porter — 
 never : and as to this country, ma'am, one 
 might just as well be deaf and dumb as to 
 be obliged to behave as if one was !" 
 
 All this time Luke was endeavouring to 
 start for Emms by a certain hour, and enraged 
 at their slowness, and furious at their not 
 understanding him, he was using language 
 by no means suited to ears polite to all 
 those whom he encountered in the neigh- 
 bourhood of the stables. 
 
 At last they started, and without con-
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 269 
 
 sidering for a moment, that all this unneces- 
 sarji trouble was entirely his own doing, he 
 worried poor Emily during the whole of the 
 picturesque drive with his violent anger at 
 everybody. 
 
 Every half hour Luke vociferated to the 
 two Germans to go faster, but they only 
 looked round displaying more clearly than 
 ever, that they were quietly smoking! nodded, 
 repeated in a deep bass — " Ja Wohl/' and 
 went on as slowly as ever. 
 
 But that was a minor grievance, time and 
 patience brought them to the pretty little 
 Town of Nassau,* perched on the banks of' 
 the Lain which in many respects is more 
 lovely than the Rhine itself ; here they 
 would gladly have stopped to take some re- 
 freshment, but they could not by any in- 
 genuity manage to do so. 
 
 "Stop you fellow, I say stop!" shouted 
 Luke. 
 
 " Ja Wohl,*' said the imperturbable Ger- 
 man, and on he went.
 
 270 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 '* Arretez vous, Cocher — ^je vous en prie," 
 said Emily. 
 
 " Ja Wohl," replied the other man jog- 
 ging on faster, which he believed to be the 
 meaning of her words. 
 
 '* Stop/' shouted Luke again, " why the 
 
 don't you stop," and the man, frightened 
 
 at the thundering voice, and at the fist 
 which the angry Englishman was shaking at 
 him, went through the town in which they 
 so much desired to stop at an unusually 
 brisk pace. 
 
 Luke put his head through one window 
 and Emily through the other, and in the 
 extremity of her fright at Luke's violent 
 rage, she even tried Italian ! but that was 
 of no use, and on they went. They could 
 not stop the imperturbable Germans. 
 
 Luke did not like the look of Emms, so 
 he determined upon going on, though Emily 
 entreated him to stay a day just to see 
 Emms. There, at the hotel, waiters could 
 speak some English, and Luke managed to
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 271 
 
 make his refractory people understand, that 
 he wished to go on to Schwalbach. 
 
 Half way between that place and Emms 
 is a small road side inn, of the very smallest 
 pretensions, situated in the ugliest part of a 
 road which had become very uninterest- 
 ing, with nothing to look at — nothing to 
 amuse. 
 
 At the door of this inn the carriage 
 stopped, and a polite landlord came bowing 
 and smiling to the door which he opened. 
 
 Angry at this, Luke ordered him to shut 
 it, which he would doubtless have done if 
 he had had any idea what the gentleman' 
 meant. 
 
 But there he stood blandly smiling, hold- 
 ing the door open with one hand, and point- 
 ing with the other to a very uninviting- 
 looking " salle.'' 
 
 '* Go on," vociferated Luke. 
 
 " Ja Wohl," replied the postillions, coolly 
 getting off their horses. 
 
 " Go on, I say — go to the /' shouted 
 
 Luke.
 
 272 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 '* Ja Wohl," replied the Germans, taking 
 the horses off the carriage, and leaving it 
 in the road without them. 
 
 Luke jumped out, and seizing one of the 
 horses, endeavoured to harness it again, but 
 the extraordinary arrangements made for that 
 purpose, were quite incomprehensible to 
 him. By the time he had given it up in 
 despair, the postillion had brought water 
 and bread, with which he began, in dumb 
 show, to prove to Luke, that the horse, of 
 which he had taken forcible possession, 
 needed rest and food — and at last, feeling 
 quite at their mercy, Luke handed his wife 
 to one end of the Salle, whilst Mrs. 
 Cole took a place at the other. 
 
 Luke's vehement expostulations with the 
 landlord were met with shrugs and smiles, 
 and there they had to wait, doing nothing, 
 with nothing even to look at ! — Luke saw an 
 English carriage with a Courier drive up, 
 and off- — but whatever he felt at that pro- 
 voking sight, he said nothing. 
 
 People with, what are usually denomi*
 
 FAMILY FAILIXGS. 273 
 
 Hated, quick tempers, should never visit 
 Germany, their trials will be too severe. 
 At the first town of any consequence, Luke, 
 to the great surprise of his wife, enquired 
 not for a Courier, as she had fondly hoped, 
 but for a German master ; a very agreeable 
 and intelligent person presented himself, 
 and having, unluckily, rather a sense of 
 the ridiculous, he could hardly keep up a 
 necessary gravity, when Luke requested him 
 to give him a list, of all the most emphatic 
 terms of abuse ! took great and serious pains 
 to master the pronunciation, and rang the 
 bell for the waiter, to practise upon. 
 
 Having properly pronounced an unlimited 
 number of " Dumkopfs," as much to his 
 satisfaction, as to the very natural dissatis- 
 faction of the unoffending waiter, Luke 
 Leigh expressed himself highly delighted 
 and exceedingly obliged to the German 
 master, with whom he warmly shook hands, 
 — declared, '* he should get on now," and 
 not choosing to learn another word ^of the 
 
 language, politely dismissed him. 
 N 5
 
 274 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 Of the delights of having people vehe- 
 mently explain something, that it is evi- 
 dently absolutely necessary for you to un- 
 derstand, whilst you stand, with open eyes 
 and ears, totally unable to catch their 
 meaning; of these delights, Emily and 
 Mrs. Cole had a considerable share, as of 
 course the maid-servants were rarely lin- 
 guists — but they were such good natured, 
 affectionate creatures, and became so soon 
 attached to Emily's pretty face, and kind 
 manners, that they exerted their limited 
 minds to the utmost, to understand her 
 wishes — and on one occasion when she gave 
 one of the hand-maidens an unexpected 
 gratuity, the poor German girl was so 
 delighted, that she actually embraced her — 
 they are good creatures, the Germans. 
 
 But the climax of their many mistakes 
 and troubles was yet to come. 
 
 Luke did not find his carefully acquired 
 vocabulary of much use, as the awful 
 words, were met with a quiet good temper, 
 which deprived them of their sting, and
 
 FAMILY FAILLNGS. 275 
 
 Emily found her French, nearly as useless, 
 except with the ladies and gentlemen of 
 different countries ; but with these, after the 
 laudable fashion of some of our English 
 travellers,they made little or no acquaintance, 
 though the slightest advance on their part 
 would have been politely received, and 
 cordially reciprocated. So after all, the 
 life they led, was nearly a long tete a tMe ; 
 and in point of fact — a very dull one. 
 
 One day, the morning had been very 
 rainy, and Weisbaden looked quite deserted, 
 but Luke sallied out with an umbrella, and* 
 told Emily, that if it cleared up sufficiently 
 he would return and take her for a walk. 
 
 Emily threw herself on the sofa, in her 
 own room, and took a book, but it proved 
 so uninteresting, that by degrees, the noises 
 of the hotel died away to her ears, and she 
 fell asleep. 
 
 She was awakened by a knock at the 
 door, and sleepily desiring Mrs. Cole, as she 
 supposed it to be, to come in ; a waiter 
 opened the door, and said —
 
 276 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 " If you plese you muss come doun/' 
 
 She looked so startled and alarmed, for a 
 moment, at the strange voice, and not per- 
 ceiving that it was the waiter, who could 
 speak French, but could not speak English, 
 she answered — 
 
 *' What is the matter V in so fright- 
 ened a voice, that he, not comprehending 
 her, was frightened too, and showed it 
 plainly. 
 
 "Mattur!" said the man — ** Mon- 
 sieur !" 
 
 *' Mr. Leigh V asked Emily, forgetting 
 that he had said, he might send her a mes- 
 sage. 
 
 "• Ye-es," said the waiter alarmed, he 
 didn't know why. 
 
 '' What is it," said she, catching up her 
 bonnet. 
 
 " You mus-ss come doun derecly," re- 
 plied the man. 
 
 " Is any thing the matter," enquired poor 
 Emily again.
 
 FAMILY FAILLXGS. 277 
 
 *' Ye-es, ye-es I" said the man, who had 
 not an idea what she meant. 
 
 " Is it an accident — has anything hap- 
 pened to Mr. Leigh," said Emily, breath- 
 lessly hurrying down the long gallery, with 
 the man after her. 
 
 " Ye-es — ye-es," replied the now ter- 
 rified waiter, feeling that something was 
 wrong, though he had not an idea what ! 
 
 " Is he hurt r 
 
 " Yes," replied the unconscious Kellner. 
 
 '' Is he much hurt — oh, is he killed !" said 
 poor Emily, whose trembling limbs could 
 scarcely carry her in safety down the stairs,* 
 so certain was she, that something terrible 
 had happened to poor Luke — something 
 they dared not tell her — visions of every 
 horrible kind floated before her, and she 
 leant against the passage wall, unable to 
 stand, as she repeated — 
 
 '•' Is he killed — oh, is he dead." 
 
 " 7(^5," said the unlucky waiter. 
 
 " Where," almost shrieked poor Emily. 
 
 '' These way," said the poor Kellner,
 
 278 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 enchanted to hear something he could un- 
 derstand. 
 
 And along the passage, through one 
 Salle into another, then into a third, 
 tottered poor Emily, in the deepest distress, 
 and there, as she suddenly turned into the 
 room, expecting to see she knew not what, 
 perhaps the crushed and mangled corpse of 
 her unfortunate husband, there stood Luke, 
 waiting for her with his hat on, whistling a 
 galoppe ! —
 
 FAMILY FAILIKGS"; 279 
 
 CHAPTER Xir. 
 
 The party who had been staying at High 
 Ehns, returned to town, and Horace re- 
 turned to his books and his law studies. 
 Frederick Keane was not in quite such an 
 amiable mood as he had been ; he felt him- 
 self neglected, and he fancied himself 
 laughed at. In truth when things go wrong 
 with people, they are apt to visit their 
 worries, or disappointments, upon the object 
 nearest at hand ; and as Horace, for a
 
 280 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 young, prosperous and courted man, had bad 
 as many worries as could well be crowded 
 into the short space of a few months, it 
 must not be denied, that he had occasion- 
 ally shown less than his usual patience, 
 towards the simplicities of his friend and 
 companion. 
 
 So Fred often sat in Horace Leigh's 
 chambers, in the uncomfortable chair, for 
 he had not succeeded in importing an easier 
 lounging place, in a very innocently sulky 
 mood. The consequence of his being less 
 supremely happy in the mere presence 
 of his friend, was that Fred: now 
 began to find, or try to find amusement for 
 himself ; people could not write novels so 
 fast as he could read them, and there were 
 hours on hours, when he did not know what 
 on earth to do with himself, or his time. 
 
 He began by asking Horace, what he had 
 better do ! — but being made to feel the 
 absurdity of the question, by his friend's 
 laughing advice, he determined, by a great 
 mental effort, to find some amusement for
 
 FAMILY FAILLNGS. 281 
 
 himself, and in the innocence of his heart, 
 he could think of nothing better than mak- 
 ing long visits, at all the houses of his lady 
 friends — his conversation being of an order 
 perfectly compatible with work ; (so much 
 so that Blanche could talk and listen to him 
 — counting her threads just as accurately as 
 if he were not there ;) his visits were gene- 
 rally welcomed ; and as he was in every way 
 presentable and eligible, he usually received 
 an invitation to dinner, which led to farther, 
 and longer, calls on his part, and so the idle 
 and gentle Frederick Keane, contrived to get 
 rid of some of the time that hung so heavily 
 on his hands ; the longest of his visits were 
 bestowed upon the Trevors, but as Blanche 
 was engaged in working a chair which 
 was, when finished, to be presented to Mrs. 
 Luke Leigh, she did not mind him much ! 
 
 Their conversations were worth hearing, 
 from their interesting nature. 
 
 " Have you been out to-day. Miss 
 Trevor V^ enquired Fred, fixing his beauti- 
 ful eyes upon Blanche, and admiring the
 
 282 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 elegance of her head and throat as she bent 
 over her work. 
 
 " One, two," said Blanche. 
 
 " Two walks already 1" interrupted Keane, 
 his astonishment not allowing him to wait 
 for the rest of her answer, 
 
 " Two stitches, and no walk," answered 
 Blanche. '* I beg your pardon for counting 
 out loud, but I was just doing my Turkish 
 lady's eyes, and I might have made her 
 squint horribly." 
 
 " It is a most wonderful thing the way 
 you work horses and dogs, by counting one, 
 two, three ! I cannot comprehend it." 
 
 " It requires great genius !'^ said Blanche, 
 gravely. 
 
 " Oh, I dare say," said Keane ; " but 
 you can do anything, Miss Trevor." 
 
 " Good or bad," added Blanche. 
 
 " You do a great deal of mischief ; 
 hearts, and all that," said Fred, trying to 
 look insinuating, but only looking silly. 
 
 " A prettily turned compliment," said 
 Blanche ; *' so well expressed."
 
 FAMILY FAILLNGS. 283 
 
 *' If I said all I thought, every word 
 would be a compliment." 
 
 " Well done," said Blanche. " You found 
 that sentence in a book, Mr. Keane !" 
 
 '' I did !*' confessed the conscience- 
 stricken Fred. 
 
 " It is DO use trying to deceive me," said 
 Blanche, shaking her head in a very alarming 
 manner ; ** where did it come from V 
 
 " The last new novel,'' stammered Keane. 
 '* You see quite through and through me !" 
 
 And he felt hurt ; for he had taken great 
 pains to remember that one sentence, having 
 forgotten all the rest of a new book, on pur- 
 pose to make use of it ; he had watched for 
 his opportunity, had triumphantly brought 
 it forward ; and then — she had found him 
 out — knew where it came from ! Oh, she 
 was decidedly too clever 1 
 
 He sat quite silent and unhappy. 
 
 " Don't take it to heart," laughed Blanche 
 — " seven, eight, nine, ten — not one person 
 in twenty would have discovered your 
 secret ; only, unluckily, I read — "
 
 284 FAMILY FAIIil^'GS. 
 
 " Oh, SO do I," said Fred, brightening up 
 — " all the new novels. '^ 
 
 '* You can say that pretty sentence to 
 some one else you know — it need not be 
 lost," said Blanche, with a friendly but mis- 
 chievous nod. 
 
 '* Perhaps I shall," said Fred, in a pettish 
 voice. 
 
 *' Eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve," said 
 Blanche. 
 
 " What pretty coloured silk," said Fred. 
 
 " Very," answered Blanche. 
 
 And there was a silence ; not one of 
 those eloquent pauses — when the heart is too 
 full for words, and all that sort of thing, but 
 a bona fide silence — for want of anything to 
 say. 
 
 " Twenty, twenty-one," said Blanche. 
 
 ** This is a miserable world !" observed 
 Fred. 
 
 What a startling and unexpected remark !" 
 said Blanche, raising her eyes in great 
 astonishment — "where did you get that 
 from V
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 285 
 
 '' That's original," said Fred—*' I feel it. 
 One can't do anything one wants to do in 
 this world ; and one can't say anything one 
 wants to say." 
 
 " What upon earth do you mean V said 
 Blanche, carefully threading her needle. 
 
 " It's a wretched truth," answered Fred, 
 in an absent manner. 
 
 " He's mad," thought Blanche ; *' poor 
 creature ! evidently temporary insanity ; he 
 can't mean anything — he never does." 
 
 " I mean," said Keane, " that everything 
 is a bore and a trouble — that everything 
 goes wrong — and the people one cares for 
 most, laugh atone!" 
 
 This was coming rather home. 
 " Horace only laughs at you because he 
 cares for you more than he does for any one 
 else in the world." 
 
 " I was not thinking of Horace ; and I 
 don't know that he laughs at me — at least, 
 I never can be quite sure that he does," 
 answered Keane. 
 
 And Blanche was silenced ; for she had
 
 286 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 jstupidly admitted that she thought that 
 Horace did laugh at him. 
 
 " I don't think Horace is so much at- 
 tached to me/' continued Fred. 
 
 " I know it — certainly know it," replied 
 Blanche. 
 
 " There are others he loves better/' said 
 Fred, looking at her hard, with the expec- 
 tation of seeing her colour rise. 
 
 " If you mean me," said Blanche, coolly 
 looking up at him, " certainly not/' 
 
 ** Is it possible 1" said Fred in a very 
 animated tone of voice. 
 
 " He would give up anything and every- 
 body rather than you," said Blanche, " and 
 you ought to know it.'' 
 
 " Is it possible 1" repeated Keane in an 
 odd and absent manner, " that Horace does 
 not care for you/' 
 
 " Quite possible indeed," said Blanche 
 stooping down very eagerly over her 
 work. 
 
 *' If you could be serious for one moment, 
 only one little moment."
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 287 
 
 " I am serious enough — on this subject/' 
 said Blanche, with a contraction of the eye- 
 brows as if she were suffering from a sudden 
 pain. 
 
 " If you would only attend to me,'' said 
 Fred, " I would tell you—" 
 
 " "What V said the lady after waiting 
 some time. 
 
 " Nothing/' said Keane. 
 
 " Too bad of you," said Blanche, clipping 
 the ends of worsted at the back of her 
 work, " to begin to tell me some dreadful 
 news — and if dreadful, of course, interest- 
 ing, and then not to finish your sentence." 
 
 " Do you wish me to finish it V said Fred, 
 with the colour rushing over his handsome 
 face. 
 
 " Of course I do," said Blanche, when 
 she had carefully counted to the top of the 
 turban of the figure she was working, • ' three- 
 hundred and seventy-eight/' 
 
 " Well, then (here goes)," these words 
 were added to himself et pour s' encourager, 
 ■— ** Well, then the person I care for most.
 
 288 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 who makes me miserable by laughing at all 
 I say, is you — and what I have to say is — 
 How d ye do, Mrs. Trevor," added the un- 
 fortunate young man ; for at the very mo- 
 ment when he was about to make a desperate 
 declaration to the daughter, the mama 
 entered the room, and he had to sit and talk 
 about the weather. 
 
 It was a very strange thing, that, with all 
 her cleverness, Blanche Trevor was so ac- 
 customed to Frederick's pretty and silly little 
 speeches, that being much more occupied 
 with the Turkish lady than with him, she 
 thought he was merely talking his usual 
 little nonsenses, and did not in the slightest 
 degree perceive that this time poor, dear 
 Fred was in deep and serious earnest. So 
 she talked and smiled just as usual during 
 the rest of his unconscionably long visit— he 
 lingered on in the vain hope of sitting Mrs. 
 Trevor out, and then went home determined 
 to speak to Blanche again on the very first 
 opportunity that should offer itself. 
 
 He had that curious longing for change
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 289 
 
 of some kind, which strange to saj often 
 precedes a change over which we have had 
 little or no controul ; Fred was actually 
 getting tired of Horace ; a few mouths be- 
 fore, had Fred been told that this could be 
 the case, how indignant would have been 
 his denial of the possibility of such a thing, 
 and yet it was in some degree the case ; a 
 restlessness, an impatience at seeing Horace 
 fag so steadily at his profession was coming 
 over Fred, and a something approaching to 
 recklessness, if such a word could apply to 
 such a gentle character as his, was over- 
 coming his fear even of Blanche ; and he had 
 a vague idea, that if he could but make 
 her love him she would not laugh at him ! 
 for he saw through the veil of her polished 
 manners more than she imagined he did, 
 and often perceived the Intent, and indeed, 
 involuntary ridicule of her words. 
 
 He feared and yet admired her, and more 
 than that, he could but feel that she was the 
 wife for him — he felt that with her for the 
 mistress of his house, and the partner of 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 290 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 his destiny, that come what would, he should 
 have no trouble 1 
 
 And it is uot to be denied that this was 
 to him a great attraction ! 
 
 When, however, he had before thought of 
 this and wished, and tried as far as he was 
 able, to make himself acceptable to the 
 fascinating but formidable object of his long 
 standing admiration, one idea had always 
 stood between them — he firmly believed that 
 there was an attachment between Blanche 
 and his friend Horatio, as he styled him. 
 
 In the course of that morningV interest- 
 ing and intellectual conversation, the 
 earnestness with which Blanche denied the 
 imputation, and the coolness with which she 
 met his gaze, gave him, for the first time, 
 an idea and a vivid hope that he might be 
 wrong. Being the very creature of impulse 
 he had all but proposed in his delight at his 
 discovery; but when he came to think it 
 over, as well as he could think, it struck him 
 that, though it was evident that Blanche 
 Trevor did not love her cousin, save as a
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 291 
 
 cousin — it was not so certain, whatever she 
 might saj or think, that Horace did not love 
 her — and so he was thrown again into a 
 state of painful uncertainty. 
 
 *' Nothing, he muttered to himself, as he 
 walked along — " nothing should make me 
 interfere with Horace ; and it would be no 
 use if I did."' 
 
 It is an opinion of some, who have 
 founded it upon facts, that when people 
 have, made up their minds that anything is 
 impossible, it is sure to take place. 
 
 Poor Fred was worried ; it was something 
 new to him to have an anxiety weighing 
 upon his mind ; and his usually open brow 
 was wrinkled up, and his generally smiling 
 mouth was contracted into an expression of 
 thought and trouble, which sat strangely 
 upon one whose countenance had no other 
 habitual expression than careless good- 
 humour ; he walked slowly on, without a 
 trace of his usual liveliness of gait and 
 manner ; but with a sudden change of idea, 
 
 peculiar to those who are not gifted with 
 2
 
 292 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 many of them, he altered his course; in so 
 doing he soon after, at the turn of a corner, 
 encountered Horace. 
 
 '' What's the matter, Fred V^ enquired his 
 friend, who instantly saw a difference in 
 him; " you don't look like yourself.'' 
 
 " I hope it's an improvement ?' enquired 
 Fred, with a nervous smile. " You're going 
 to the Trevor's, of course V 
 
 " I am," replied Horace — '' and you?" 
 
 " I'm going to call upon the Walgraves," 
 answered Fred ; '' they are very kind — and 
 I have no where else to go." 
 
 " I found them all at home," answered 
 his friend ; and so they parted. 
 
 Sir Josiah was sitting in his study, 
 whilst Fred was endeavouring to entertain 
 the ladies, in the drawing- room ; the princi- 
 pal effect of his calling so often and so long 
 upon them was to make them wonder what 
 he came for so often — and wish he would go 
 a little sooner. 
 
 The machine for extinguishing had not 
 again endangered the safety of the house;
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 293 
 
 the fragments of the not-to-be-stopped- 
 grinding-machine had been of course re- 
 moved, and another very complicated little 
 model, for the useful purpose of cooking 
 without fire, or at least with so little as not 
 to be worth mentioning, filled its place. It 
 had been set in motion in the morning, and 
 was generally supposed to be engaged in 
 making soup; luckily, it was quite harmless. 
 
 It had been agreed between Mr. Simmons, 
 the enthusiast, and Sir Josiah, the capitalist, 
 that any payments should be as nearly as 
 possible divided between them, as long as 
 Mr. Simmons could find the means, that' 
 then Sir Josiah should stand in the gap — to 
 be fully repaid, and to share the immense 
 profits — when the invention answered. 
 
 He has just received the following letter 
 from his friend and coadjutor : it related to 
 their first difficulty. 
 
 "Dear Sir, 
 
 " I have just received yours ; I wrote 
 to you on Monday, accounting for your not
 
 294 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 having heard from me before. I am very 
 sorry there has been any difficulty about the 
 draft you allude to ; it was through a mis- 
 take of mine, as 1 • had forgotten to write 
 to the house, where it was made payable, 
 about it. 
 
 " I send by this post to Mr. Bull a draft 
 on the same bankers, for 360/., to cover 
 this draft, and to give him some money in 
 hand to go on with. The balance in hand 
 has always been kept very low, for two 
 reasons: first, I wish not to charge more to 
 the concern than it actually takes ; and if 
 I were to keep a large balance in it, the 
 interest on that would make the weight 
 heavier ; secondly, I wish to keep the balance 
 as large as I can in my private bankers' 
 hands, that they may be inclined, to help 
 me at' a pinch.. 
 
 '* I am very sorry my illness keeps and 
 kept me down here at the trial, last Monday ; 
 I am very glad it went off so well. If there 
 are any more particulars besides what will 
 appear in the papers, pray send them to
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 295 
 
 me, as I arn auxious to know all about 
 it, 
 
 " On again reading your letter, I will 
 observe that this draft, which has been re- 
 fused payment, is the first that has been so 
 out of above 7,000/. of my share of ex- 
 penses, which has been already actually paid 
 on account of the two concerns. 
 
 *' After so much larger a capital being 
 expended than ever had been either con- 
 ceived or intended by us, it cannot be won- 
 dered at if there should be now and then a 
 hitch. I can only say that if I had had an 
 idea that that last improvement would have* 
 cost so much, and produced so little, no 
 power or persuasion would have induced me 
 to lead you into it. I am quite satisfied 
 with the rest of the concern. 
 
 " That goes on well — there has been no 
 mismanagement as far as I or Mr. Murdock 
 are concerned in the business, but I am 
 certain of this, that unless the sales of the 
 new ones are doubled, the change will not 
 "pay its own expenses. It is now a great
 
 296 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 and increasing loss to us, besides all the 
 trouble. 
 
 " I write ill, and in great haste, to save 
 post ; these things are truly vexatious, be- 
 cause so very unexpected. 
 
 " I am, dear sir, 
 
 " Yours, very sincerely, 
 
 '• William Edward Simmons." 
 
 Sir Josiah sat with a puzzled look, think- 
 ing about this letter ; he had been a good 
 deal startled by finding a draft, drawn by 
 Simmons, for a considerable sum, had been 
 dishonored; he had been nothing more or 
 less than frightened ; although he had known 
 from the first, that the inheritance which 
 his friend had embarked in the concern was 
 not by any means inexhaustible; still the 
 possibility of a refusal of payment had 
 never presented itself to his mind, till it 
 came upon him in a tangible and alarming 
 shape. The funds of Mr. Simmons had
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 297 
 
 surely not begun to fail him already "? that 
 prospect was far from agreeable ; luckily it 
 did not appear to be the case, as the letter 
 just received, proved that the occurrence 
 had been accidental, and its remedy had 
 been instantly forthcoming. Still there was 
 a something about the answer, which grated 
 very unpleasantly upon Sir Josiah's mind — 
 *^ he had forgotten to write," with all his 
 admiration for the unquestionable talent, in- 
 deed genius, of Mr. Simmons, Sir Josiah 
 never felt certain of the unqualified truth of 
 his assertions ; he was a sanguine enthusi- 
 ast, and Sir Josiah had learnt from a long and 
 intimate acquaintance with the inventor, to 
 receive what he said with a qualification of 
 some kind — he might have forgotten cer- 
 tainly, because he was ill, but it was to say 
 the least of it, not very likely. However 
 that he must banish from his thoughts, the 
 evil was remedied. 
 
 But the close of the enthusiast's epistle 
 merited serious attention ; — certain of 
 
 success, hopeful to a degree that he should 
 5
 
 298 FAMILY FAILLVGS. 
 
 think, or at least allow that he thought of 
 loss, was very disheartening, even to his 
 equally sanguine coadjutor. Thousands had 
 already been swallowed up, and yet poor 
 Sir Josiah felt that the worst was yet to 
 come ; for that before long his property 
 must furnish the supplies, alone ! 
 
 The prospect was highly disagreeable 
 even when imaginary, what would it be 
 when real ! Still there was before them 
 the grand field of success ; till this last un- 
 fortunate improvement, they had been do- 
 ing very well, since then the sales, upon 
 which they had depended, of course, for their 
 returns, had been falling off, and the dis- 
 honored draft might and must do them 
 harm. Sir Josiah began to rue the day, 
 when he had been tempted, with such a 
 specious cleverness, to embark his capital so 
 largely in the concern, although he had had 
 little cause for regret, as yet. 
 
 As he cooled down, he thought that he 
 had been perhaps unjust ; he could scarcely 
 expect such complicated business to go on
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 299 
 
 without a check, as it had hitherto done, 
 and yet he did not like the letter, — it was 
 very unlike Simmons ; wavering, uncertain, 
 odd ; and by an annoying coincidence Sir 
 Josiah had been playing whist till late the 
 night before, with some old friends, and 
 one of them had a habit of repeating his 
 words, over and over again, four or five 
 times, however unimportant they might be ; 
 and as he sat looking at the letter which, 
 had caused him so much anxiety, and an- 
 noyance, the words used most by his friend 
 the General would come back into his 
 head again and again, haunting him as an 
 air will haunt one, and he did not like it ; 
 the words seemed to apply themselves to 
 Simmons, and his epistle ; they were, " Shufile 
 and cut, shufile and cut, shuffle and — 
 cut." 
 
 Sir Josiah was quite worried, it seemed 
 to him an omen of ill-luck. 
 
 One would really have supposed that 
 some mischievous little demons were amusing
 
 300 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 themselves with whispering to him the pro- 
 voking words. 
 
 Sir Josiah had found some truth in the 
 representations of his clever friend ; men of 
 science and men of business equally ap- 
 proved of the scheme in which they were 
 embarked, and now private friends were 
 diligently endeavouring to procure for one 
 branch of it the patronage of Government — 
 if that could be won, all would go right — 
 the outlay would be nothing to the enormous 
 profits. 
 
 So thought and dreamed Sir Josiah, and 
 losing himself in the labyrinth of his own 
 hopes, the sanguine capitalist gradually 
 allowed all graver and sadder views of the 
 subject to fade from his mind, he thought 
 and would think, of nothing but the great 
 success, which had hitherto crowned every 
 experiment and trial ; even that last, over 
 which some of the papers of the day were 
 still ringing their applause ; it had been up- 
 hill-work, but now, surely the hill top would
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 301 
 
 soon be gained, and in every sense he should 
 be repaid — so his anxious look smoothed it- 
 self down, and he began to put away his 
 papers in preparation for his afternoon ride 
 — but as he took up the letter again in his 
 ears seemed to be whispered, in the cross- 
 grained voice of the old General — 
 " Shuffle— and— cut/' 
 The family failing of the Walgraves was 
 working its way to harm, 
 
 A few miles out of town, in one of the 
 thousand villas which encircle the Metropolis, 
 leading one to wonder where all the people 
 come from who inhabit them, and where all 
 the money comes from, which they spend 
 therein, an invalid was lying on a sofa at an 
 open window, enjoying the delicious softness 
 of the summer air ; he was propped up with 
 pillow^s, a table with every little comfort he 
 could fancy or wish for, ripe fruit, fresh 
 water, and amusing books were just within 
 his reach, a bouquet of fresh flowers were 
 lavishing their sweetness close to him — a 
 shawl was carefully thrown over his feet ;
 
 302 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 it was evident that he was loved and watched, 
 tenderly cared for, and anxiously nursed. 
 The invalid was reading, one after another, 
 letters upon business ; with knitted brows 
 and impatient gestures he flung one by, only 
 to take up another — some of them he read 
 twice, a proceeding generally unnecessary to 
 one with a head so clear, and intellect ac- 
 customed to such work ; but he had been 
 ill, very ill, and his powers of attention 
 were weaker than was their wont. 
 
 The letters, be their import what it 
 might, evidently grieved and irritated him 
 — writing materials were within his reach — 
 after a moment's consideration he wrote, 
 and a frown grew darker and darker upon 
 his brow ; he finished that letter and began 
 another, but his ill-recovered strength totally 
 failed him, and he fell back upon his heap 
 of pillows much exhausted, and a fit of 
 coughing seized him. 
 
 At the first sound of his cough a quiet 
 but interesting little woman, who had been 
 anxiously listening in the next room, rose
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 303 
 
 and came up to hira; a faint smile came 
 upon his lips as she bent down with an af- 
 fectionate look to hear what she could do 
 for him ; he gave her the full tascination of 
 his peculiar smile, though they had been for 
 many a long and toilsome year — man and 
 wife. 
 
 He tasted some of the fruit, refreshed 
 himself with rest, and then Mr. Simmons 
 began to dictate to his patient and devoted 
 wife, the answers to the different letters he 
 had received, and she grew paler as she 
 wrote.
 
 304 FAMILY FAILIJSGS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII, 
 
 Blanche was sitting in the back drawing- 
 room before her easel, she was about to take 
 her last lesson of the interesting and philo- 
 sophical Mr. Spildin, and she had requested 
 Horace, who was getting rather tired of the 
 little man and his absurd phraseology, to 
 attend his last lecture. Ladies see so little 
 of character in their smooth passage through 
 every day life, that Blanche, elegant and re- 
 fined as she was, enjoyed hearing Mr. 
 Spildin's extraordinary conversation as
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 305 
 
 much as a naturalist would enjoy the ex- 
 amination of a creature whose nature and 
 habits were altogether new to him. 
 
 He did not enter the room with his 
 usual happy smirk, " he was so very sorry 
 it was his last lesson he was." He bowed 
 to Horace in solemn silence, and then in- 
 tentlj'' examined the nearly finished copy 
 which Blanche had been making of his 
 picture. 
 
 '' Good, splendidly good," ^said he, " I 
 only wish Ogland could see that copy — 
 that I do; would you believe it, mum ! 
 but Ogland have been heard to say, that I 
 can't paint!" 
 
 " What odious calumny !*' said his in- 
 dignant pupil. 
 
 '* Odious indeed, though I don't rightly 
 know what a calumny is ; but / think if 
 he'd a seen your picture here, he wouldn't 
 say that again, for sure it stand to reason 
 as nobody haven't taught you but I, if / 
 couldn't have painted, you couldn't have 
 painted, mum !"
 
 306 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 " A most unanswerable argument,'' said 
 Horace. 
 
 " My arguments is unanswerable," said 
 the painter, *' Mrs. Spildin find 'em so, 
 and that's saying a deal T 
 
 " Perfectly convincing," answered Horace, 
 lotto voce, 
 
 '* Ogland paint he do, but not so well 
 as me, though I say it that should'ut," 
 continued the modest artist, " but he's so 
 proud — he would'nt give lessons now as I 
 do, mum, to you for half-a-crown, and he 
 could'nt do it for more. Then I paint 
 any think I do; but he don't — I painted 
 a tea caddy last week for two pound fifteen 
 I did — but he wouldn't — I've painted for one 
 lady, very rich, at Islington, four screens, and 
 one work-box — I paint any think Vm asked, 
 but he wouldn't paint nothing but pictures, 
 and pictures, mum, is drugs in the 
 market !'' 
 
 " What V enquired the mystified Blanche, 
 to the excited little artist.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 307 
 
 " Nobody wont buy 'em, mum/' sullenly 
 explained Mr. Spildin. 
 
 " A shocking want of taste," replied his 
 pupil, bowing to apply the speech to her 
 attentive master. 
 
 " You may say that," replied the little 
 man — '' Ogland find that ! People do say 
 he's splendid, and all that ; but he get no- 
 think by it. It's my philosophy to weigh 
 every think by that — * what do you get by 
 it V That's what I call the grand question, 
 mum." 
 
 " A noble sentiment," said Horace, 
 gravely. 
 
 <. " Ogland, sir, he rave — he talk about 
 art. Oh, art is good, it is ; but money is 
 better — 'specially if you've a family ! Even 
 a half-a-crown is better than art, if you've 
 your bills to pay !" 
 
 Poor Blanche, who was devoted to pic- 
 tures, could scarcely stand these sentiments; 
 and the paper which Horace carefully held 
 up before his face shook very perceptibly in 
 his hand.
 
 308 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 '* Ogland's too proud, he is. I'm above 
 being proud," said Mr. Spildin, with cons- 
 cious dignity ; '* I should think it quite 
 beneath me to be proud, and let my chil- 
 dren want for anythink.'' 
 
 " Your feelings are a credit to you," said 
 Horace. *' How many children have you V 
 
 "Five, sir — it's many mouths to feed; 
 and if I was too proud to teach young ladies, 
 and paint tea-caddies, what would become 
 of them r 
 
 Nobody answered this question; so he 
 went on. 
 
 *' I don't care what I do for money !" 
 said the artist, evidently not in the least 
 aware that the sentiment was by no means 
 a moral one, in its simple and unqualified 
 state. '* Now Ogland has a family ; and 
 what's the consequence of all his pride — 
 they starve. I go without my pride — they 
 go without their dinners ! I bring up my 
 children — five on 'em — like gentlemen and 
 ladies, oh, I do ; but he don't bring his up
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 309 
 
 at all. They goes without their dinners — 
 so what's the use of pride !" 
 
 " I have heard sermons upon the subject," 
 said Horace, gravely, and for once, saying 
 v^hat he ought not to say, " but, by Jove, 
 your arguments are splendid.'' 
 
 " I know they are — Vm famous for my 
 arguments ; and I sums up. Money is better 
 than art — and dinners is better than pride ! 
 I can't say more. ' 
 
 '' I should think not," said Horace, drily. 
 
 And Mr. Spildin carefully put up his pic- 
 tures, took a respectful leave of Miss Trevor, 
 and bowing to Horace, received the sum 
 total of his half-crowns from Mrs. Trevor, 
 and departed with a feeling of regret. 
 Blanche was not only his best pupil, but his 
 best listener too. 
 
 When he was really gone, Horace took 
 out a letter from his mother, and placed it 
 in Mrs Trevor's hands. 
 
 " This seems to be written in great 
 anxiety," observed his aunt, giving it back 
 to him.
 
 310 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 ** I fear it is," said Horaces " but my 
 dear mother has been nervous about my 
 father, for some time, so I will hope he is 
 not really ill. She asked me several times 
 how I thought him looking, when we were 
 all at High Elms for Luke's wedding ; but I 
 could not see anything to be anxious about." 
 
 " He has been such a strong person, all 
 his life," observed Mrs. Trevor, " that the 
 least symptom of failing frightens my poor 
 sister ; and yet, as we grow old, we - must 
 expect 10 feel the weight of years." 
 
 " My mother tells me that he was com- 
 plaining of a numbness in one arm — do you 
 think that of any consequence V enquired 
 Horace. 
 
 " It may be so," said Mrs. Trevor, 
 gravely ; " it is one of those ailments that 
 may be very serious, or nothing — 1 cannot 
 say ; but perhaps, Horace, as Luke is in 
 Germany, it would be better if you just 
 went down to see your father ; it would at 
 least be a comfort to my sister, if she is 
 frightened."
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 311 
 
 ** I do not feel so sure of that," said 
 Horace, with a bitterness which he could 
 not controul ; *' if it were Luke — " 
 
 His aunt looked at him in surprise. Long 
 as she had seen him suffer under the system 
 of favoritism pursued at Leigh, he had 
 always borne it in silence. 
 
 Perhaps what Fred said was true, and he 
 was not so good-tempered as he had been : 
 disappointment will sour the character some- 
 times ; and those who have most within 
 them the power of vivid enjoyment are 
 those who feel disappointment most severely. 
 
 " My sister clings to you in her anxiety/' 
 said Mrs. Trevor kindly ;-*' she feels you» 
 value, Horace, make her feel it more by 
 going down, if but for a few days." 
 
 " She will think, perhaps, I only go to 
 Leigh because you and the gay world in 
 general, are leaving town/' said Horace. 
 
 " Don't think such foolish things," said 
 Blanche, *' do as you are ordered, Horace, 
 mama so seldom gives advice, I always follow 
 it when she does."
 
 312 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 And she gave her mother an affectionate 
 look across the table at which she was 
 sitting. 
 
 " Impertinent as usual jou see," said 
 Mrs. Trevor to her nephew ; " but as we 
 are two to one we must be right — what 
 everybody says must be true." 
 
 " Leaving town just now is very incon- 
 venient to me/^ said Horace, " for many 
 reasons ; but, notwithstanding that, if you 
 really think that I can be of use, or even a 
 comfort to my mother, I will go at once ; 
 only you cannot wonder that I am slow to 
 think I can be either wanted or wished for 
 at the Leigh." 
 
 This was a speech that neither Mrs. 
 Trevor, or Blanche herself could answer as 
 they wished, so they were silent. 
 
 *' Horace is getting very bitter, Blanche," 
 said Mrs. Trevor when he was gone. 
 
 '* It is his natural character," was her 
 answer. 
 
 " He hides it very well," said his aunt.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 313 
 
 '* Controuls it, dear mama," suggested 
 Blanche. 
 
 " Just as you please, my dear," said the 
 acquiescent mother. 
 
 The next morning's post decided Horace 
 upon leaving town without delay ; it brought, 
 in another letter from poor Mrs. Leigh, the 
 startling intelligence that her fears had been 
 but two well-founded ; that his father had 
 been seized with paralysis, and that the 
 medical men were anticipating another 
 stroke ; she entreated Horace to come down 
 to her at once ; his presence would be the* 
 greatest comfort she could have, till she 
 could summon Luke. 
 
 Taking a hasty leave in Grosveuor Square, 
 he parted with Fred, whose piteous face de- 
 served compassion as he said in the most 
 melancholy tone : 
 
 " What on earth shall I do without you, 
 everybody is going out of town, and I have 
 no where to go.'' 
 
 " Run down to Brighton, the Trevors 
 will be there." 
 
 VOL. I p
 
 314 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 " No, no,'* said Frederick, in a pettish 
 tone, ** I shan't go an j where or see anybody 
 — I shall just vvait for you in town." 
 
 '' You can come down to Leigh if my 
 poor father should get well." 
 
 " Oh, never mind, you will be back again 
 soon, old fellow." 
 
 '' I hope so, but I cannot telh'' 
 
 " It's duty and all that ; Horatio's going 
 down," soliloquised his friend, after seeing 
 him start, " but he must think it is a horrid 
 bore — I should." 
 
 Frederick Keane Avas selfish in a gentle, 
 quiet, silly, and amiable way ! 
 
 When Horace first saw his father, he 
 was delighted to find him so much less ill 
 than he expected ; he had never seen much 
 of a sick chamber, and had an undefined 
 dread of one, but the old Squire had rallied 
 quickly, far more so than had been at first 
 anticipated, and was seated in his arm-chair 
 as usual in the oak chamber at the Leigh ; 
 his eyes were brighter than they used to be, 
 and a redness below and in front of the
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 315 
 
 ear, down towards the chin were the princi- 
 pal changes he perceived at first ; the old 
 man had nearly recovered the use of his 
 paralysed limbs ; he was very glad (indeed 
 when his ordinary manner was taken into 
 consideration, unnaturally glad) to see his 
 son ; he seemed in very high and buoyant 
 spirits too, very unlike his generally quiet 
 ways ; and at the slightest cause the Squire 
 would laugh so long and loud, that by de- 
 grees Horace grew frightened, and Mrs. 
 Leigh would give him such terrified looks — 
 he knew not how to answer them back-^ 
 there was a something very strange about 
 his father — it made their blood run cold. 
 
 Old Mr. Leigh would sit and talk — far 
 more than he had ever talked when he was 
 well — in a strange excited way — and his 
 small grey eyes would flash and sparkle 
 fearfully — then he became irrascible, the 
 man so quiet and good-tempered of old to 
 every one but Horace, would be enraged and 
 even furious ; using such language as had 
 
 never passed his lips, at the least disappoint- 
 p 2
 
 316 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 ment, at the very slightest opposition — re- 
 minding them of Luke. — And yet he had 
 recovered tlie power of movement, and could 
 even walk, at first with the support of 
 Horace, who almost carried him upon 
 his strong young arm ; then he would walk 
 across the room alone, and Mrs. Leigh would 
 sit and watch his half tottering steps, and 
 spring forward to assist him when she 
 fancied he was falling, for he had now a way 
 of moving which she tremblingly pointed out 
 to Horace when they were for a moment or 
 two alone. 
 
 '' Oh, Horace, have you noticed that 
 strange manner of your poor dear fathers, 
 walking and moving in that one sided way, 
 as if one half of his poor head was heavier 
 and weighed him down that way ! oh, my 
 dear boy, this is a terrible visitation ; he is 
 so strange — he frightens me ! and if I try 
 to help him, he who has been throughout 
 our long married life, so kind and tender, 
 how he repulses me ; he says harsh things ; 
 and, Horace, he used an oath — at me — to-
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 31 7 
 
 day r' and poor Mrs, Leigh burst into tears ; 
 and exhausted by her anxieties, blinded 
 with her tears, she flung her head upon the 
 shoulder of her long neglected son, and 
 sobbed very bitterly, 
 
 Horace took her hand ; with the gentleness 
 and tenderness of his nature, he soothed, he 
 comforted his mother ; the tears came to his 
 own eyes, as he gave her hope that these 
 strange symptoms would pass away — *• per- 
 haps it was her fancy ;" andkindly whispering 
 everything that was most likely to afford 
 her consolation in the shattered state of her 
 own nerves, which had not recovered the 
 shock of her husband's sudden seizure; he 
 had the happiness of seeing her cheered : by 
 him ; and after a long conversation, the most 
 affectionate she had ever had with him, his 
 mother caressingly put back the dark hair 
 from his forehead, and touching it gently 
 with her lips, declared — 
 
 *' My dear, dear boy — what should I do 
 without you ! promise you will not leave me ;
 
 318 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 you are my comfort. I must give way if 
 you are not here to support me." 
 
 Horace was deeply touched — fully re- 
 warded ; he felt his mother loved him now, 
 with that aifection he had been yearning for 
 for years. She knew his heart at last — and 
 he was more than satisfied. 
 
 When next the physician from a distance, 
 who had been called in as an eminent prac- 
 titioner, paid the poor squire a visit, Horace 
 detailed all the strange little symptoms that 
 were so alarming to him and Mrs. Leigh ; 
 and was assured that they were but the com- 
 mon symptoms of that terrible disease; 
 another attack of which might be delayed 
 for months, or might come every moment. 
 The days of the old squire were numbered, 
 or rather he was doomed at no distant time, 
 however uncertain the day and hour might 
 be. 
 
 But this was to be a secret from his wife ; 
 she was on no account to know that the 
 fatal sword was suspended by a single hair 
 over her husband's head ; the physician saw
 
 FAMILY FAILLXGS. 319 
 
 that to tell her that terrible news would 
 totally unfit her for the post of nurse. " His 
 patient's irritability would' increase; she 
 must have nerve for that knowledge — and 
 that would be as much as she could bear;" 
 and the good doctor saw such genuine grief 
 and feeling in the young face of Horace, 
 that he shook him by the hand with more 
 than usual friendliness. 
 
 And he, poor fellow, had to smooth down 
 his awe-struck face, and learn to feign ; no 
 easy task to one whose nature was so up- 
 right and true — feign hope and cheerfulnese 
 — concealing from his poor mother the fatal 
 tidings of her inevitable and approaching 
 loss. 
 
 This should have been a woman's task, 
 this comforting and watching — but Horace 
 performed his painful part as kindly as a 
 woman could have done. 
 
 His mother's eyes seemed to be opened 
 now ; she could see all that he really was ; 
 she had been in sorrow once before, and 
 what comfort had she had from Luke !
 
 320 FAMILY FAILI^'GS. 
 
 " Stuff, mother ! what's the use of worry- 
 ing me 1 — how can I help my father's being 
 ill V and kicking a chair impatiently out of 
 his way, he had answered her anxious appeal 
 by banging the door on his way to the 
 stables. 
 
 How keenly did she feel the difference 
 now. 
 
 Every day and hour brought home to her 
 the knowledge of the feeling heart of her 
 young son ; and every day she leant upon 
 him more, and loved him better. 
 
 This feeling that he was of use — appre- 
 ciated — that one idea which makes one 
 work so willingly, reconciled Horace to the 
 dreary life he led; for now his mother 
 could scarcely bear him out of her sight, or 
 out of call ; she was becoming fearfully 
 nervous. 
 
 The greatest comforts he had were long 
 and kind letters from Blanche, and now and 
 then a silly but interesting epistle from 
 Fred. 
 
 " My poor old fellow," wrote he, '* I am
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 321 
 
 SO sorry for jou ; I shouldn't be able to bear 
 such dismal scenes — I know I shouldn't. 
 But here I am in Town, according to my 
 promise, waiting for you, Horatio. I don't 
 feel, somehow, inclined to go anywhere 
 oiit of Town, though it is hot enough. 
 
 '* It would be very dull, only Sir Josiah 
 has business in Town, all about I don't 
 know what, though he often tries to explain 
 to me ; only — though I do flatter myself I'm 
 no fool — I can't be expected to understand 
 screws and pumps you know, can 11 Well, 
 he stays in Town ! and so the ladies are 
 here too, and very kind : otherwise, as the 
 Serpentine looks very cool and tempting 
 these broiling days, I really think it is 
 quite possible I might have been drowned — 
 quite by accident — some day. 
 
 " Having nothing to do is the greatest 
 bore in the world ; except having too much 
 to do. And so I go and sit with the ladies; 
 and they work, and I talk ; and we find it 
 very pleasant, for there isn't another soul in 
 London ; and so good-bye, Horatio ; I wish 
 P 5
 
 322 FAMILY FAILIIyGS. 
 
 you'd come. I shan't settle accounts, or pay 
 any bills — it is such a bore — I shall leave 
 all that to you. Tm not at all myself with- 
 out you, so you must not expect amusing 
 letters; I am as stupid as an owl." 
 
 " Poor dear Fred ! what an affectionate 
 heart you have — and what a head !" thought 
 Horace, smilingly. ''1 envy your seeing 
 Isabelle day by day, and I — " 
 
 But he shook away the thoughts that were 
 coming, and stifled a sigh. He was doing 
 his duty where he was. 
 
 Mrs Leigh was in high spirits one day^ 
 walking with her son in the garden, having 
 left her poor husband asleep, with one of the 
 servants watching him through the open 
 door, and much refreshed by her exercise, 
 she entered his room with a more cheerful 
 face and step than usual, but she had not 
 taken two steps into the room, when a suc- 
 cession of shrieks, in his mother's well-known 
 voice, made Horace spring from the garden 
 seat, and rush up stairs into the old oak 
 room.
 
 FAMILY FAILLYGS. 323 
 
 His mother was wringing her hands in 
 helpless anguish ; and the poor old squire 
 was sitting there, with his head thrown back, 
 perfectly speechless, and incapable of mov- 
 ing hand or foot : he had just had another 
 fit. 
 
 Horace and the servants with difficulty 
 carried him to his own chamber; he was as 
 helpless as if he had been dead ; but life 
 was still there ; and his eyes had a wilder 
 expression even than before. 
 
 Poor Horace had next to tend his mother, 
 whose terror was quite as alarming as her 
 husband's state ; and having sent off for 
 advice in more than one direction, he was 
 obliged to nurse both parents now ! 
 
 The doctors gave the same verdict as be- 
 fore — the next attack would, in all human 
 probability, be the last ; for the present, he 
 might recover some share of power of speech 
 and movement, but this stroke was a very 
 severe one ; they almost, wondered it had 
 not been fatal. 
 
 Luke was again summoned, but with his
 
 324 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 usual thoughtlessness for others, he had not 
 written what his course was to be, when 
 they determined on going farther than their 
 original destination. Emily wrote home full 
 accounts of all her adventures, but nothing 
 by which they could immediately be traced ; 
 and so the letters did not reach them for 
 weeks after they might have done so, and 
 the young couple were as yet in ignorance 
 of the sad news from Leigh. 
 
 But now began the real trials of Horace 
 and his mother, for the poor squire was 
 absolutely helpless, and only recovered the 
 use of the faculty of speech to worry them 
 with bitter reproaches for want of attention ; 
 a most unjust accusation ; and above all he 
 wrung their hearts by being constantly in 
 tears. Poor Mrs. Leigh was in despair ; she 
 wrote to Mrs Vernon, entreating her to come, if 
 she wished to see her brother before he be- 
 came worse, and she entreated Mrs. Trevor 
 and Blanche to come and help her to nurse 
 her husband. Unfortunately Mrs. Trevor 
 herself was so unwell that she could neither
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 325 
 
 come herself or spare Blanche from her own 
 bedside. 
 
 So Horace was more necessary to his 
 mother now than ever. 
 
 Mrs Vernon read the letter entreating her 
 to come to Leigh, with deep ard silent 
 sorrow. It is said old people do not feel the 
 losses of this nature as they would if they 
 were younger ; perhaps they show it less, 
 but if we look around us with attentive eyes 
 we must renmrk they do not lung survive tjie 
 death of one near their own age, if they 
 have cared for them in earnest. 
 
 Little inclined to move, and undertake so 
 long a journey, Mrs. Vernon instantly pre- 
 pared for it ; and hurried on the postboys 
 in her anxiety to reach the Leigh. 
 
 The old squire was as usual up, and sitting 
 in his chair by the window; he was gazing 
 vacantly out upon the sunny lawn, and the 
 old trees, of which he had been so proud ; 
 he felt they would not be his much longer. 
 He had been told that Mrs. Vernon was com- 
 ing, and the idea greatly excited him.
 
 326 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 Horace, who knew how bad every exciting 
 circumstance was for one in his condition, 
 was full of deep anxiety ; and yet they had 
 been obliged to tell him, or the sight of her 
 must have been a shock. It was impossible 
 not to give his only sister the opportunity of 
 seeing him before it wss too late ; and yet 
 they had been warned — it might, 'specially 
 if he saw her suddenly, produce some bad 
 effects. 
 
 In his thick and scarcely articulate voice, 
 the poor old squire has asked once and 
 again — 
 
 " Olympia — is — she coming 1 how good," 
 and then perhaps would end the sentence 
 with reproaches to his most patient and de- 
 voted nurses, much too painful to be re- 
 corded . 
 
 There was a dead silence in the room ; 
 the heat was very great, and it was evident 
 a storm was coming on ; the birds even were 
 silent — wh'en the sick man's face suddenly 
 lighted up.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 327 
 
 "I I hear— wheels — she is coming," 
 
 said he. 
 
 Horace and Mrs. Leigh heard nothing, 
 although thej listened with strained and 
 painful eagerness. 
 
 Afraid he might be too much disappointed 
 Mrs. Leigh declared — 
 
 ** It must be fancy — we hear nothing- 
 there are no wheels." 
 
 '* Dolt !" said the good, kind husband of a 
 long life — " idiot ! I hear the wheels. 
 What, are you deaf, or are you doing it to 
 torment, and grieve and disappoint me 1'* 
 and he went on putting himself into a rage 
 so fearful, that his face and head grew crim- 
 son with his efforts to speak ; when, as they 
 least expected it, he burst into a flood of 
 tears, sobbing like a young child. 
 
 Just then poor Horace really caught the 
 sound of wheels, and hastened out to receive 
 Mrs. Vernon, marvelling that his father had 
 been right —had heard the sound when their 
 ears caught it not. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon, with all her strength of
 
 328 FAMILY FAILLNGS. . . 
 
 mind, was very pale, and trembled much, 
 as Horace helped her to alight, fatigued 
 with her long journey. He would fain have 
 persuaded her to take a glass of wine be- 
 fore she saw his father, but she was too 
 much agitated to wait ; and, supported by 
 Horace, with a step very unlike her usual, 
 firm, elastic tread, she entered the room. 
 
 The poor old squire threw a look of 
 triumph at his vtife — raised himself more 
 than he had done since his attack — called 
 out aloud — '' I knew it was my sister !" and 
 sank back. 
 
 He had been struck again I
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 329 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 There was now not a shadow of hope thai 
 the poor master of the Leigh would ever 
 tread its floors again. 
 
 " No hope !" Ah, it was well that Mrs. 
 Vernon, with her strong mind, was there to 
 aid in supporting the feebler spirit of poor 
 Mrs. Leigh, when the truth was carefully 
 broken to her. "No hope!" Who that 
 has ever heard those words of one they love 
 can ever forget the feeling they produce ! 
 
 The few words he murmured now could 
 not be understood, except by Horace ; his
 
 330 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 mother's agitation whenever he attempted to 
 speak, if speaking it could be called, 
 deafened and bewildered her, and Mrs. 
 Vernon was not accustomed to the altered 
 voice of her brother. She was greatly 
 shocked — prayer was her only source of 
 comfort and strength ; it was so terrible to 
 sit and watch that death in life — to know 
 that every limb refused to stir at will — to 
 see the mind so nearly gone from the face 
 she had known from childhood, these were 
 to the sister of the dying man most sad and 
 melancholy tasks. At every moment some 
 little thing brought the fact of his utterly 
 powerless state home to the minds of his 
 affectionate nurses. 
 
 He was still placed for some hours on his 
 ' sofa, but his poor hands lay utterly useless 
 by his side, and this was continually re- 
 called to their remembrance in a most pain- 
 ful manner by his inarticulate words of 
 distress. 
 
 Horace bent anxiously down, to catch, if 
 possible, his meaning.
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 331 
 
 An insect had alighted on his hand, and 
 he had no power to brush it away, not even 
 to stir a finger, and scarcely the articulation 
 to make Horace understand the meaning 
 of his murmurs. 
 
 This was indeed sad work, but it did not 
 continue long, for from that last attack 
 — which was indeed the last — the poor old 
 Squire of Leigh gradually slumbered and 
 slept his life away. 
 
 He did not live to see his fondest wish 
 and hope — Luke and his wife in the old 
 house. 
 
 One week from the day of Mrs. Vernon's 
 arrival her brother died. 
 
 *' Only nine weeks from the first fit/' 
 counted poor Mrs. Leigh in her distress, 
 "and they all told me he might live for 
 months so short, so very short a time — 
 and Luke not here !" 
 
 She was in a state of despair, for which 
 her remarkably easy and acquiescent dis- 
 position had not prepared either Horace or 
 his aunt, but soft natures like hers give
 
 332 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 way more completely than those of sterner 
 mould, and poor Mrs. Leigh shut herself up 
 in the room that held all that remained 
 to her of the husband of her youth, and to 
 all the entreaties of her family opposed a 
 passive resistance, which obliged them to re- 
 linquish their endeavours; she never, for the 
 week which elapsed before the funeral array 
 passed from the door, she never left the 
 chamber of the dead. 
 
 She scarcely tasted during that week one 
 morsel of solid food, a little tea to moisten 
 her lips was all ; she was indeed a mourner, 
 and for some time poor Horace feared she 
 would have followed her husband even to 
 the grave ; but after a time, by slow degrees, 
 she rallied ; grief is so suited to our mortal 
 state, it seldom kills. She was totally unfit 
 to attend to business ; all that could be 
 done in the unfortunate absence of Luke 
 was done by Horace, and the affection 
 which had long existed between him and 
 his aunt was drawn closer by every act of 
 his, so feeling, so kind, and so judicious
 
 FAMILY FAILIKGS. 333 
 
 was his conduct ; whilst his mother learnt 
 in that time of her bitter anguish, to know 
 his value more than she had had time or 
 occasion to feel it, in his whole life be- 
 fore. . J V J 
 
 Poor Mrs. Vernon's powerful mmd had 
 not sustained her under this stroke as it 
 might have been supposed it would— her 
 brother had only the claim of kindred to 
 her affection— they had been through their 
 long lives without one mutual opinion or 
 pursuit ; they had nothing in common but 
 their race.— Indeed she had a contempt for 
 his narrow-mind, and very limited ideas— 
 his conduct to Horace had greatly weakened 
 the regard that still remained between them, 
 and yet she felt his loss nearly as much as 
 the gentle and devoted Mrs. Leigh. 
 
 She sometimes fancied her own nerves 
 were shattered by the event that had just 
 occurred ; for all unused to foolish weaknesses 
 of any kind, do what she would, one terri- 
 ble idea, would by day, and even more by
 
 334 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 night, present itself to her imagination — 
 she fancied she had killed her brother. 
 
 That bj the shock of her coming she 
 had hastened, indeed caused his death, and 
 as she was one of those who know that 
 every hour for repentance is beyond price to 
 those who may not have felt its awful ne- 
 cessity before their latter days, she felt she 
 might have cut short his life — it was a 
 very terrible idea, and one that preyed upon 
 her mind for very long — no efforts of her 
 own could blot out the thought that she had 
 killed her brother. 
 
 This threw her into a nervous and excited 
 state very unlike her own calm frame of 
 mind; and shut up in a still and silent 
 country house with two mourners, each 
 brooding over their own griefs alike yet dif- 
 ferent — poor Horace had no pleasant 
 task. 
 
 It was a singular circumstance, that 
 whilst the son the Squire had always treated 
 so harshly — soothed his dying bed by every 
 womanly tenderness — the son he loved, his
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 335 
 
 idol — was not there, not near him — was 
 awaj — amusing himself — in ignorance of his 
 illness, in ignorance of his death — for at 
 the very hour he breathed his last Luke 
 and his wife were in the highest spirits, and 
 at a ball. 
 
 There is something beyond measure revolt- 
 ing to the feelings in the knowledge, that 
 we have been gay and happy — laughing and 
 dancing at the very day and hour in which 
 one we have loved was dying ; that we have 
 been talking of them, laughing about them, 
 perhaps even merrily drinking their health 
 when they were dead — and yet when 
 families are parted far and wide these 
 wretched things will happen. 
 
 Luke Leigh had been so thoroughly 
 annoyed, that before they moved again from 
 Weisbaden he had secured another courier, 
 not to be compared in usefulness to the one 
 he had sent away, but still a very great 
 comfort. 
 
 One day as they were walking in the 
 gardens, after having for the hundredth
 
 336 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 time, looked into those extraordinary cal- 
 drons of nature's cookery — the greatest 
 wonder of which, is that they always furnish 
 the same mixture, no one of the ingredients 
 ever seeming to fail in its due proportion— 
 they were really delighted to meet a party 
 of acquaintance : in that foreign land, they 
 were instantly promoted into friends. Hav- 
 ing kept shyly aloof from strangers, what- 
 ever their country might be, the seeing 
 people who knew them, and High Elms, and 
 Mrs. Vernon, who could give the last intel- 
 ligence of Mr. Langton and Charlotte and 
 Carlo, was truly delightful. And they 
 agreed to dine together every day; and 
 the young Leighs were perfectly happy to 
 keep entirely apart from every one, they did 
 not know ; and yet enjoy some human 
 society. 
 
 Their old friends were of a very different 
 stamp, it may be even, that the young lady 
 of fhe party, went into the opposite ex- 
 treme of making acquaintance, with every- 
 one she met, but truly she amused herself
 
 FAMILY FAILII^GS. 337 
 
 which the Leighs most certainly did not. 
 Miss Langstone was clever, and thought her- 
 self so, but she had a way of entering into 
 violent arguments upon all sorts of subjects 
 with perfect strangers, which sometimes 
 ended in her finding herself in a scrape. 
 Scarcely a week before her meeting with her 
 old friend Emily, she had harangued for a whole 
 day against the Roman Catholics, with their 
 pomps and vanities, in no measured terms, 
 to a very interesting and elegant English 
 lady, who bore it in quietness and peace, 
 until provoked beyond measure, she was 
 obliged to silence her triumphant antagonist 
 by gently observing : 
 
 " / am a Roman Catholic.'' 
 
 Miss Langstone who piqued herself upon 
 being a linguist, also told Emily she had 
 been not a little annoyed by being informed 
 by a moustachoed German count, to whom 
 she had made herself very agreeable. 
 
 " That he should have known any where, 
 that she was English — by her French !" 
 
 These two little occurrences rather tended 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 338 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 to silence her extreme vivacity, and she 
 became very useful to Emily, on many 
 occasions ; furnishing her often with speeches 
 and amusements. 
 
 Truly she might have been known as 
 English^ by her French, for she surprised a 
 Hungarian Baron, by declaring that one 
 must have in England — 
 
 " Tin mille livres par an — ou on nepouvait 
 pas — avoir le monde a diner.'' 
 
 The polite Hungarian was obliged to 
 smother his astonishment at any body's wish- 
 ing to have this habitable globe to dinner, 
 by swallowing, in haste, another glass of 
 Kudesheimer. 
 
 Miss Langstone was a specimen of one 
 class of English travellers, as the young 
 Leighs were of another. 
 
 Luke had been very good tempered for 
 some time, and had actually been induced to 
 follow the party of his old acquaintance 
 muck farther than he had any intention of 
 doing; he quite forgot to mention their 
 change of plans, and so their letters did
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 339 
 
 not reach them till their return to Frankfort 
 after a fortnight's stay in Vienna. 
 
 Luke had complained, in his usual coarse 
 manner, and had devoted all the foreign 
 posts to all sorts of destruction, quite forget- 
 ting that the whole fault of the matter, rested 
 in his own negligence — it is so very pleasant 
 to throw the blame upon any person or any- 
 thing, rather than ourselves! 
 
 Another English party, who were con- 
 nexions of the Langstones, were in similar 
 trouble, they had left young children at 
 home, and could hear no tidings whatever 
 of them, which was of course a real matter 
 of anxiety and distress ; they were however 
 suddenly relieved by a letter from a friend 
 who told them that on applying to their 
 house in Somersetshire, for their present 
 address, the old housekeeper, upon whom 
 devolved the task of writing to them 
 regularly, had declared that she had direct- 
 ed all the letters she had written to Bou- 
 logne. Knowing this to be wrong al-
 
 340 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 together, the lady had suggested Cologne, at 
 which the old housekeeper had said — 
 
 *' Ah ! Cologne, so it was — but Boulogne, 
 or Cologne don't signify, do it ma'am, it is 
 all the same in the end !" 
 
 This eclaircissement was a great relief to 
 the anxious parents, but brought no comfort 
 to Luke, as he loiew that his not getting 
 his letters could be owing to no mistake of 
 other people, though he would not allow it 
 could be attributed to his own. 
 
 At Frankfort, however, they found a huge 
 packet lying at their banker's, and whilst 
 Emily was rejoicing over some good news 
 from home, Luke was silently reading an 
 account of the illness and death of his 
 father. 
 
 "Poor Horace!'' ejaculated he, ''I am 
 glad I was out of that." 
 
 And this was his first idea, his mental 
 epitaph upon the most indulgent parent that 
 ever breathed. 
 
 The next was, that he was master of the 
 Leigh ; and then, particularly when he saw
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 341 
 
 poor Emily's feelings of genuine sorrow and 
 dismay, little as she had known her father- 
 in-law, then he began to feel a touch of 
 natural grief, and still led by Emily's burst 
 of Sorrowful compassion, he actually thought 
 of and pitied his poor mother as he read 
 over the aflfecting and true picture, Horace 
 drew of her despair. 
 
 Sweet Emily Leigh strove in her kindest 
 and gentlest way, to soothe her husband, 
 judging by her own shocked feelings what 
 his must be, (what they might have been 
 indeed, but were not ;) and anxious, all 
 thoughtless, as she was, to be of some use 
 and comfort to Mrs. Leigh in her desolate 
 and widowed state, she hurried Luke in all 
 the preparations for their return, and so 
 they turned their steps homewards, under 
 circumstances of mourning which they little 
 dreamt of when they left England in all 
 the freshness of their bridal array. 
 
 What Mrs. Leigh felt in her now desolate 
 room at the old house, when the strange 
 
 r 
 
 men came to profane with their touch the
 
 342 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 sad resting place of her husband ; what she 
 felt when they had cal'ried it forth, and she 
 was left there alone^ none but a widow 
 indeed, as she was, could describe ; the 
 night before the funeral the coffin was taken 
 away, she had sat and watched it till nature, 
 and even reason seemed about to fail to- 
 gether ; but nothing would induce her to 
 take any composing medicine; nothing 
 would induce her to remain one instant 
 separated from all that remained to her of 
 long years of peaceful happiness, whilst he 
 was still within the old walls of his home. 
 No sooner had the strangers, whose presence 
 revolted her beyond all bearing, left the 
 gilded and ornamented coffin in its destined 
 place for the night, that it might be ready 
 for the morning, which was to be so terrible 
 to her, than Mrs. Leigh descended to the 
 dining-room where it was laid; there in 
 the scene of so many happy and merry 
 hours, the very room seemed ringing still 
 with his hearty and good-tempered laugh, 
 there, locking the door, refusing the
 
 FAMILY failings' 343 
 
 passionate and tearful entreaties of Horace 
 and Mrs. Vernon to be allowed to bear her 
 company ; there with her bible, the one 
 that had been his, with that one only com- 
 forter, did the widowed Mrs. Leigh keep 
 watch. 
 
 In every-day life ^so easy, so quiet, so 
 
 apparently calm and feelingless, who would 
 
 have suspected her of this passionate love 
 
 for the sad remains of the old master of 
 
 the Leigh ? but he had been good and kind 
 
 to her ; he was the husband of her youth, 
 
 the cheerful partner of a long life of calm 
 
 and uneventful happiness ; never had a 
 
 word of anger or recrimination passed 
 
 between them, his wish was hers — she had 
 
 vegetated there with a peace and quietness 
 
 rarely allotted to any in this life of care 
 
 and toil — he had done everything — thought 
 
 of everything, she had been a mere cipher 
 
 in her own home ; but that she liked, and 
 
 now so suddenly, so very suddenly, she had 
 
 lost her happiness, her stay, her all. 
 
 She had not closed her eyes even for an
 
 344 FAMILY FAILLNGS. 
 
 instant, when the busy sounds outside, told 
 her, in language not to be mistaken, that 
 the hour was come when she must take a 
 last farewell of all she held so dear. 
 
 She started and uttered a faint scream as 
 a knock, gentle and low as it was, came 
 to the door ; it was poor Horace entreating 
 for admission — which she again refused — 
 he told her in a voice of deep emotion, that 
 *^ She must 3oon leave the room.'' 
 
 There was a pause, and then she came 
 close up to the door, and whispered in a 
 choked, unnatural tone he scarcely knew for 
 hers — 
 
 " Wait half an hour, Horace, I must 
 and will have one half hour more — and then 
 — take care that no one is in the way — let 
 me see no one I implore — send them all — 
 all — awa3' — then come for me, Horace, and 
 I will — leave — him — " 
 
 He was glad to hear his mother burst into 
 a flood of tears, they were the first that she 
 had shed. 
 
 What passed in * that sad half-hour was
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 345 
 
 never known ; there was no sound in that 
 chamber of the dead. 
 
 But when the time had elapsed, Horace 
 again made known his presence — not a 
 creature was in her way. — After a few mo- 
 ments of terrible suspense to him, for his 
 mother made no answer, at last he heard 
 her step. She opened the door, and sup- 
 ported by Horace she tottered up to her 
 own room : — hastily entering without a 
 word — she just pressed the kind hand of 
 her son, and again locked herself in. 
 
 Flinging herself upon her knees, she re- 
 mained in that position, though her thoughts 
 were too confused to pray. The sounds 
 below almost maddened her. 
 
 The carriages, with those who were to 
 attend the funeral, began to arrive — with 
 sounds which till that day had been signals 
 of pleasantness and mirth. 
 
 Then there came one with a heavier, a 
 different noise of wheels — and she guessed 
 what that was ; then strange, heavy steps, 
 made heavy by a burden,- came down the
 
 346 FAMIkY FAILINGS. 
 
 echoing hall; and she heard them slowly 
 and with muttered words of caution descend 
 the steps. She would have given worlds to 
 shut out these horrible though slight indica- 
 tions of what was doing below. She might 
 so easily have ceased to listen, but she was 
 fascinated ; and with starting eyes, and ears 
 whose nerves were fearfully excited, with 
 hands so tightly clasped, that unconsciously 
 the nails were wounding her; she listened on. 
 By some mismanagement the coffin jarred 
 against the corner of the porch. She knew 
 what it must be — and clasping her hands 
 upon her eyes, she shrieked aloud ; as if the 
 jar had power to harm the cold and senseless 
 form within ! It was a horrible aggravation 
 of her anguish, that little accident. Her 
 senses were a thousand- fold more acute that 
 day than they had ever been — and each 
 added to her sufferings. 
 
 She heard the grating, scraping sound 
 when the narrow couch of the poor old 
 squire was placed within the hearse; (her 
 room was just over the porch), and she heard
 
 FAMILY FAILLNGS. 347 
 
 the door of it shut to with a sharp bang, 
 which struck her heart as if it had been a 
 blow. 
 
 Then with its many horses, whose foot- 
 steps creaked strangely in the gravel, so 
 many steps at once, the hearse moved on. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Leigh gave a low cry ; and 
 then it stopped, waiting for the carriages. 
 
 In silence and with noiseless steps the 
 first party passed down the hall, and entered 
 the mourning coach. Tottering in some 
 degree under the influence of his sincere 
 affliction, she still knew the footsteps of her 
 son, and a deeper contraction of anguish 
 passed over her sorrow-stricken face. 
 
 Then came the common, every-day, society 
 like sounds of carriages, and doors shutting, 
 and wheels; the frequent pauses maddened 
 her; but at last they all, all drove away. 
 
 From where she sat, such was the nature 
 of the ground about the Leigh, that she 
 must see the funeral procession wind up the 
 long, steep hill, on towards the church ; and 
 she sat there with tearless and widely dilated
 
 348 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 ejes, watching till it should come out from 
 the shelter of the trees. 
 
 It came creeping so heavily along — the 
 hearse and its train. 
 
 She sat and looked — adding to her distress 
 by every second of time ; feeling more and 
 more this terrible proof of the reality of all 
 which had more than once appeared to her 
 like a painful nightmare — yet she gazed on 
 — as if it had been a pageant in which she 
 had no personal interest whatever. 
 
 The long procession moved very slowly 
 on ; and when the hearse, with its precious 
 freight, passed out of sight, bearing it on to- 
 wards its final resting-place, a shiver ran 
 throughout her frame : but she still watched. 
 
 One by one the mourning coaches past on 
 over the brow of the steep hill, showing 
 themselves, as that tall hearse, with all its 
 nodding plumes, had done; distinctly drawn 
 in black against the sunny sky. Then 
 came the carriages of friends, with their 
 slow pace, so different now to what it had
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 349 
 
 had been ; — and then the last of them passed 
 out of sight. 
 
 Then Mrs. Leigh felt that all was indeed 
 over ; the loss was now too certain and too 
 real; the unnatural tension of her nerves 
 gave way, and she flung herself in an agony 
 of tears upon her bed. Her face and hands 
 were met by a strange feeling substance, the 
 touch of which gave her another shock : 
 she had buried her face unwittingly in the 
 deep crape of her fresh widow's weeds. 
 
 The sight of those sad habiliments, sa- 
 cred to such a loss as hers, and to that only, 
 filled up the measure of her grief ; and giv- 
 ing no answer through the day to all the 
 anxious comers to that chamber, with its 
 barred door, the widow mourned so deeply, 
 and with such a bitter grief, it was a won- 
 der that she could endure, unused to an- 
 guish as she was, such new and terrible 
 emotion. 
 
 Mrs. Vernon had her share of sorrow 
 too, but she was more composed, her love 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 350 FAMILY FAILIJ^GS. 
 
 fnr Horace too, led her to exert herself to 
 overcome her own morbid impressions, and 
 so, slovvlj and wearily the days moved on, 
 and yet — no news of Luke. 
 
 One trial was still in store : those horrible 
 letters of condolence coming day by day 
 perhaps for weeks, opening the wounds 
 sorrow has made — afresh ; — letters, some 
 full of feeling, and with a sense of real reli- 
 gion, leading the sufferer by some well- 
 timed thought to the one source of comfort 
 — others — mere conventional and lifeless 
 forms, written without a feeling — to be 
 answered with so many painful ones ! — Such 
 sympathy adds to the anguish that it was 
 meant to soothe. 
 
 Letters from every one, but none as yet 
 from Luke ; except very happy ones full of 
 accounts of gay and pleasant things coming 
 in painful contrast to the sad realities at 
 Leigh. 
 
 Letters from gentle Frederick Keane, de- 
 claring himself a '' victim " '* why did not
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 351 
 
 Horace come now that the worst was over." 
 Describing the loneliness of his long days — 
 complaining he had read all the new novels, 
 and as many old as he could get — " what was 
 he to do next he didn't know ! — Horace 
 must tell him ; — Horace must comer 
 
 Poor fellow, he was tied to the oar, bound 
 by those ties of duty and affection which 
 had no common power over his grateful 
 heart — to stay and comfort his mother, and 
 his aunt. 
 
 Then, at last came tidings of Luke from 
 Frankfort ; he had returned from his trip tt) 
 Vienna, he had heard the news, and he was 
 coming home ; he hoped his brother would 
 be there on his arrival ; there would be much 
 to settle, and arrange, money matters with- 
 out end he never understood such things, 
 they were a bore to him — Horace was so 
 clever, he must stay at the Leigh till all was 
 settled — he hoped his brother would do that 
 whatever his plans now might be — he couldn't 
 manage without Horace.
 
 352 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 Selfish in their many differing ways, but 
 selfish all. — And the one kind heart and 
 noble spirit amongst them, he must bear 
 and suffer — help and give up. — Horace be- 
 gan to feel worn out with all these things 
 — he wanted change and cheerfulness — he 
 wanted rest from griefs and worries^ he 
 had a strange presentiment of evil ; though 
 he did not see the cloud he felt the chill, 
 already, of its coming. 
 
 Frederick Keane's epistles were always a 
 source of interest to him, because they 
 always mentioned some of the Walgrave 
 family. Fred now spent part of almost 
 every day with them, for they were still 
 in town ; Sir Josiah's complicated business 
 kept them there. Sometimes Fred's un- 
 connected epistles would be full of ad- 
 miration of that " pretty creature Louisa 
 Walgrave/' and Horace would read them 
 with a smile ; that really would be very 
 pleasant, another link in the chain that 
 bound him and his friend together. — Then
 
 FAMILY FAILINGS. 353 
 
 the next day would bring a different 
 strain of sentiment from Fred's uncertain 
 pen ; praises of Isabelle, and Horace, with 
 his firm conviction of her love for him, 
 would smile in calm superiority to his af- 
 fectionate but shallow friend, and wonder 
 Fred dared to lift his eyes to her. 
 
 One day Horace perused quite a pathe- 
 tic letter from his friend and pet. 
 
 " If you don't come, Horatio, I am so 
 dull alone, I can't say what may happen 
 — something dreadful — I may perhaps get 
 married — who can tell — don't be astonished 
 if I do that's all." 
 
 Horace laughed out — he had not dared 
 to ask a Walgrave, brought up as they 
 had been, to share his income and his 
 prospects ; — and Fred could fancy Louisa 
 would accept him ! how absurd. 
 
 Another letter came from Fred, and 
 Horace opened it with a sarcastic smile. — 
 Suddenly the colour faded from his face — 
 the smile departed from his lips — had he
 
 354 FAMILY FAILINGS. 
 
 seen a spirit from another world, such 
 might have been his look of horror and 
 surprise — he scarcely could believe he read 
 aright, — Isabelle Walgrave had accepted 
 Frederick Keane. 
 
 THE END OF VOL. I.

 
 UN VER8ITY OF ILUN0I8-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 045838460 
 
 ^IWr^ 
 
 WU 
 
 ^-^-. 
 
 '<i-»l^ 
 
 %Ml\