icMa-frly £W. Jtou
 
 -^^Wtf^fe^^^" 
 
 ' ._t ' (Vy^'aF" 
 
 WmM^ltm m 
 
 ggS§®&*&~ : 
 
 IfipJS^F 
 
 -ll E> HAIIY 
 
 OF THE 
 U N IVER.S ITY 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 S2 3 
 
 W153& 
 
 V.I
 
 LENA; 
 
 THE SILENT WOMAN.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/lenaorsilentwoma01wall
 
 LENA; 
 
 THE SILENT WOMAN. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 AUTHOR OF « KING'S COPE," " MR WARRENNE," 
 &c., &c. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 SMITH, ELDER, AND CO., 65 CORNHILL. 
 
 1852.
 
 Printed by Oliver & Boyd, 
 Twoeddale Court, High Street, Edinburgh.
 
 
 
 8- A 3 
 W l S3 1 
 ^.1 
 
 LENA; 
 
 THE SILENT WOMAN 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 On our dim and distant shore 
 Aching love is felt no more ; 
 
 We have loved with earth's excess, 
 Past is now that weariness ; 
 We have wept that weep not now, 
 Calm is now that throbbing brow ; 
 We have known the dreamer's woes, 
 All is now one bright repose. 
 
 Mrs Hemans. 
 
 ^ It was a calm, clear evening, towards the end 
 
 bo 
 
 of May ; and on the lawn of one of the prettiest 
 < little villas near Richmond, a lady and gentle- 
 man with two children had been tempted by 
 i the beauty of the night, and the name rather 
 
 VOL. I. A
 
 than the temperature of the spring, to loiter 
 down to the water's edge and watch the boats 
 returning to the city. 
 
 The moon, bright with that cold, silvery ra- 
 diance that belongs only to nights from which 
 the frost has not quite departed, was mounting 
 slowly to the tops of the dark cedars that skirted 
 the garden, and touched with light the low para- 
 pet that divided the lawn from the river. 
 
 " I do not know whether we are very wise," 
 said Mrs Fleming, as she leaned on her brother's 
 arm, " but it is impossible to go in while those 
 singers are within hearing." A boat was slowly 
 floating down the tide, and the rowers were 
 singing a glee as they rested on their oars. 
 
 " How bright the moon shines! " said the eldest 
 girl ; " I wonder if papa can see the moon where 
 he is?" 
 
 " Papa is in India, my love," said her mother ; 
 " and there it is day, when it is night with us." 
 
 "When we are older, we shall go to India 
 too," said Cecil, resolutely.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 3 
 
 " Do you remember papa, my little Laura?" 
 said Mrs Fleming, stooping down to her younger 
 girl. 
 
 " No, mamma ; but I remember when we went 
 to Hampton Court in the boat last year, and 
 had strawberries and cream at the inn." 
 
 " Ay," said her uncle Ned, " that 's a good 
 deal more to the purpose." 
 
 "Is it not very odd, Ned, that the mail is 
 not in ? " said Mrs Fleming. 
 
 It was during the Burmese war ; and to those 
 who had relatives in India, the arrival of the 
 mail was a serious affair. " You cannot fail to 
 hear in a few days," said Mr Morland. " I know 
 they are expecting despatches at the Horse 
 Guards." 
 
 " They have a right to the earliest informa- 
 tion, no doubt," said Mrs Fleming; "but if the 
 right were to be measured by the anxiety, I 
 think I should put in my claim." 
 
 " I say, Cecilia, what 's the meaning of that 
 cough ?" asked Mr Morland.
 
 " Nothing new, Ned," said Mrs Fleming ; 
 " but perhaps we had better go in — I am ex- 
 pecting Lady John to drink tea with me." 
 
 They sauntered towards the house : a bright 
 fire glowed and flickered through the light 
 muslin curtains, that hardly veiled the French 
 windows. 
 
 " See how we are obliged to mix the seasons," 
 said Mrs Fleming; " actually a fire in May." 
 
 " Why, we have hardly got rid of the snow," 
 said Mr Morland. " It 's not a month ago — is 
 it, Cis? — that you threw the snowball at the 
 parson, and knocked off his hat." 
 
 " Oh ! uncle, you know very well I meant it 
 for you," cried Cecil ; "it was all your fault, 
 starting back just as you came up to the steps." 
 
 "I'm sure she will never do it again," said 
 Mrs Fleming, gently. 
 
 " I 'm not so sure of that," said Mr Mor- 
 land ; " but I hope he has got over it by this 
 time." 
 
 " I don't think he has forgiven me," said
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 5 
 
 Cecil; "and I told him how sorry I was: I 
 made so sure it would have hit you." 
 
 " Well, I hope that will teach you how to 
 throw snowballs again," said her uncle, as they 
 gathered round the lire " Your cousins, the 
 little Morlands, would never dream of such a 
 thing." 
 
 "I'm sure I want to hear nothing about the 
 little Morlands," cried Cecil ; " odious girls !" 
 
 " Why odious?" asked her uncle. 
 
 " Because you set them up as patterns for 
 Laura and me," said Cecil. 
 
 " Not I. I know very little about them: I 
 only know they never assaulted me with snow- 
 balls, and never, to my knowledge, got into a 
 boat without leave, and drifted down as far as 
 Putney" 
 
 " Oh ! uncle, that was two years ago !" cried 
 Cecil, blushing. 
 
 " I dare say they are so proud because their 
 father is a lord," lisped Laura. 
 
 " Well, so was my father, if you come to 
 that," said Mr Morland, laughing.
 
 " And you are proud in your way, uncle," 
 said Cecil. 
 
 " Well, then, what do you blame the girls 
 for, if we are all alike ? " said Mr Morland. 
 
 " Because I hate them," replied Cecil. 
 
 " Well, that 's quite reasonable, to hate people 
 you have never seen," he returned. 
 
 Mrs Fleming, who had been busied in making 
 the tea, now came forward to greet her friend, 
 Lady John Dawbeney, who was announced : 
 
 " So kind in you to come ! I hope you do 
 not find the fire too much ?" 
 
 " The very thing I was wishing for at home, 
 but Lord John can't bear it. Mr Morland here? 
 I hope Cecilia duly prizes your kindness in 
 sparing her an evening during the very height 
 of the season." 
 
 " He spares me so many, that I don't prize 
 them enough," said Mrs Fleming, looking affec- 
 tionately at her brother. 
 
 The tea was cleared away ; Lady John took 
 up Mrs Fleming's embroidery. 
 
 " You industrious creature !" she said, u I
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 7 
 
 have brought you the pattern of the ottoman 
 you admired so much. 
 
 " Cis is working me a door-mat for my cham- 
 ber," said Mr Morland. 
 
 " Indeed I am not, uncle Ned ; it is a beau- 
 tiful flower-stand." 
 
 " Uncle Ned, will you play at dominoes with 
 me ?" cried Laura. 
 
 " I 'm so sorry : but I don't know the game," 
 he said. 
 
 "We will teach you," exclaimed Cecil ; "Laura 
 and I against you." 
 
 " I shall not have a chance," he said, sitting 
 down to their little table. 
 
 " Town is very full, Mr Morland," said Lady 
 John. 
 
 " Fuller than usual, I think," he said. 
 
 " Uncle Ned, a six — you must play a six," 
 cried Cecil, recalling his attention. 
 
 " Run, Cis, and bring a log of wood from the 
 hall," said her uncle, "it 's not worth while to 
 ring."
 
 8 LENA, 
 
 Cecil disappeared, and came in laden with 
 logs. 
 
 " For you 
 
 Am I this patient log-man." 
 
 quoted Mrs Fleming, smiling. 
 
 "What's all that noise outside?" said Mr 
 Morland, pausing in his occupation of mending 
 the fire. 
 
 The loud ringing of the bell at the lodge was 
 followed by the clattering of a horse's hoofs on 
 the gravel. 
 
 " An orderly, by Jove ! — news from the 
 Horse Guards ! " cried Mr Morland, hurrying 
 from the room. 
 
 " Emily," whispered Mrs Fleming, turning 
 quite white, and making a sign with her hand 
 that the children should leave the room. 
 
 " Dearest Cecilia, don't agitate yourself," said 
 Lady John ; " Colonel Fleming is so fortunate 
 a man, I anticipate the best news." 
 
 " Cecil, darling, take Laura up stairs," fal- 
 tered her mother.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 9 
 
 Cecil, trembling with some indistinct fear, 
 obeyed in silence. 
 
 " A letter ! — it 's for me, Ned, let me see it !" 
 cried Mrs Fleming, rising, but standing spell- 
 bound, like one in a dream. 
 
 He gave it her, and stood by her side, sup- 
 porting her. 
 
 " I can't make out — the man knows nothing ; 
 but there's been an engagement," he said, in 
 reply to Lady John's look of inquiry. 
 
 Mrs Fleming tore the letter open, and ran it 
 over with the wild eagerness of one whose life 
 hung in the balance. 
 
 She was leaning on her brother's shoulder. 
 She swayed on one side, and sank on the couch 
 beyond him. He had read the tidings — 
 Colonel Fleming was dead ! 
 
 " Oh, Heaven ! how will she bear it?" said 
 Lady John, going to her. 
 
 " Cecilia, for your children's sake take cour- 
 age," said her brother, raising her in his arms. 
 
 " If she would but weep," said Lady John, 
 looking with anxiety at her pale calm face.
 
 10 LENA, 
 
 " It 's not worth while," she said faintly ; and 
 she remained silent, pressing her handkerchief 
 to her lips. She knew — all know when the 
 angel comes, and the chill and the shadow of 
 his wings fall upon them — she knew she was to 
 die, and that tears were for those who were left 
 behind. 
 
 "Mr Morland, look!" cried Lady John in 
 alarm. 
 
 " My God ! " he exclaimed, perceiving his 
 sister's handkerchief saturated, u she has burst 
 a blood-vessel ! " 
 
 He rang and gave his orders in an instant — 
 the maids came in to carry their mistress up 
 stairs. 
 
 " My children, Ned !" she said, with a struggle 
 for utterance. 
 
 " Hush, Cecilia ! We have understood each 
 other all our lives : I know what you would 
 say. Don't speak — give yourself a chance," he 
 said, in great agitation. 
 
 " I '11 go and send the nurse," said Lady John, 
 hurrying up stairs.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 1 1 
 
 " Mrs Freeman," she said, in a low voice, 
 " will you go to Mrs Fleming ? She is taken 
 very ill. I will stay with the children." 
 
 Cecil rushed towards the door. Lady John 
 stopped her gently. 
 
 " Mamma ! What 's the matter with mamma?" 
 she cried. She beat her hands together — she 
 sank down, trying to escape from her hold. 
 
 " No, dear ; not to-night," said Lady John, 
 drawing her back. " Mamma is taken a little 
 faint, that is all ; she must not be disturbed." 
 
 " Let me go !" cried Cecil, straining to the 
 door — u 1 11 not disturb her — I '11 only go to see 
 her." 
 
 " I '11 speak to Dr Merrington presently," said 
 her Ladyship, " and if he thinks it right, you 
 shall go." 
 
 " What 's it all about?" asked Laura. 
 
 The nurse came in at this moment all in tears. 
 
 " Now you will go to bed with Mrs Freeman, 
 like good children," urged Lady John. " The 
 shock, you know," she whispered, to the nurse
 
 12 LENA, 
 
 — " Colonel Fleming was killed in the last 
 engagement; — but she always had a weak 
 chest." 
 
 It was pitiable to see Cecil straining, with 
 eager eyes and parched lips, to catch these 
 whispers. Something about her father — that 
 she heard — but she did not remember him 
 very distinctly. All her anguish was for her 
 mother. 
 
 " Oh, tell me — mamma — what 's the matter? 
 will she die ?" She asked in such a piercing 
 accent, that Lady John was quite melted. 
 
 " No, dear, we all hope not ; indeed, if you 
 like to come with me for a minute, you shall — 
 only you must not speak." 
 
 " I won't — I '11 do just as you tell me," fal- 
 tered Cecil. 
 
 Mrs Fleming was on the bed only half-un- 
 dressed. They had removed the stains, and her 
 white dressing-gown was unsullied. Mr Mor- 
 land was seated by her pillow, the doctor stand- 
 ing near.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 13 
 
 " Remember, madam, not a word," said the 
 doctor. 
 
 Cecil crept to the bed, and nestled her head 
 by her mother's side. Mrs Fleming drew her 
 hand once or twice feebly over her child's hair, 
 and then turned her eyes upon her brother with 
 a world of silent entreaty in her gaze. 
 
 He bent over her, and replied by a few whis- 
 pered words. 
 
 Lady John led Cecil gently away. At the 
 threshold the child turned, drinking in with one 
 long eager look her mother's placid face, dim- 
 med like a mirror with the breath of the great 
 Destroyer. 
 
 "What did the soldier come for?" asked 
 Laura ; gazing with more curiosity than emo- 
 tion at Cecil's face, all stained with tears. 
 
 " Hush ! — mamma is ill," she whispered. 
 
 Laura, always good-natured, and shrugging 
 her dimpled shoulders to keep up her loosened 
 drapery, found one of her sugar plums, and 
 held it to Cecil's mouth ; pouted a little when
 
 14 LENA, OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 
 
 her sister shook her head at the offering, and 
 then dropped at Mrs Freeman's knees to say 
 her evening prayer. 
 
 Neither Lady John nor the nurse could re- 
 strain their tears when she came to the simple 
 petition for her " papa and mamma." 
 
 As Cecil could not articulate a single word, 
 but only wrung her hands and gazed upwards 
 in mute despair, she was put to bed at once, 
 and Lady John wished her good night with a 
 promise that she should see her mamma again 
 to-morrow. 
 
 "To-morrow" the mother was in heaven.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Mrs F. — I threw down 
 My fortunes at his feet ; he did not marry me 
 For love's sake, nor for pity ; but for love 
 Of that I had. 
 
 Rowley. 
 
 The Hon. Mrs Fleming, a beautiful young 
 woman of condition, had been so perverse as to 
 form an attachment to a man beneath her in 
 family and connexions, but suited to make her 
 happy in every other respect. The match had 
 been vehemently opposed by her relations ; 
 and, as young ladies sometimes did in those 
 days, she had run away. 
 
 Even after the death of her parents, her eldest
 
 16 LENA, 
 
 brother, Lord Morland, more from indolence 
 than resentment, had taken no steps to renew 
 the intercourse between them, and had appeared 
 to remember the past with bitterness, when in 
 fact he had nearly forgotten all that had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 Mrs Fleming, on her side, with a touch of 
 pride that had its origin in a feeling that her 
 husband was undervalued, shrank from express- 
 ing the slightest wish for a reconciliation. The 
 little Flemings, therefore, and their cousins, 
 Lord Morland's children, were perfect strangers 
 to each other ; and as Colonel Fleming was in 
 command of a regiment, and his family moving 
 about the country from one large town to 
 another, it would have been difficult for the two 
 families to have seen much of each other, even 
 had it been desired. The only one of her friends 
 who had stood by Mrs Fleming throughout, 
 had been her youngest brother, Edward; be- 
 tween whom and herself there had always sub- 
 sisted that affection which may be often observed
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 17 
 
 between the two younger ones of a family, when 
 their brothers and sisters are a good many 
 years older than themselves. 
 
 Of all these elder brothers and sisters none 
 now remained but Lord Morland, in whose 
 favour, perhaps, little could be said, but that 
 he was a good-natured, careless person. Lord 
 Morland had indeed as little right as inclina- 
 tion to feel very keenly the connexion his 
 sister had formed, for he had himself married a 
 person from the lower classes of society. 
 
 Lady Morland was the daughter of a trades- 
 man, and had laid out her hundred thousand 
 pounds on a coronet that many people thought 
 not quite worth the purchase; for Lord Mor- 
 land was notoriously on the turf, and his estates 
 were crippled almost past redemption. 
 
 But her ladyship had a vocation for rising in 
 the world, and she had cleverly worked herself 
 into a position very gratifying to her vanity. 
 She did not attempt to be a leader of fashion : 
 indeed, very early in her career, she had met 
 
 VOL. I. b
 
 18 LENA, 
 
 with some rude affronts from women of high 
 birth that had taught her discretion ; but she 
 established for herself a reputation, such as car- 
 ries great weight in this country : that of a most 
 estimable woman, — an admirable mother, and a 
 wife beyond all praise. For she always spoke 
 of Lord Morland with interest or commendation, 
 and to him without a shadow of reproach for 
 his follies and losses. She was looked up to 
 by a large circle of country neighbours; con- 
 sulted, respected, and visited by people who 
 would never have spoken to her when she lived 
 with her father at Clapham. She was too clever 
 to be unreasonable in her aims, and she accom- 
 plished them all. She possessed a flow of lan- 
 guage rarely granted to persons of obscure deri- 
 vation ; and although she made, sometimes, very 
 curious blunders in her little French quotations, 
 she spoke English like a gentlewoman. She 
 always had a sentiment, and sometimes a text, 
 ready for every contingency, and therefore was 
 esteemed a person of eminent talents and inex-
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 19 
 
 haustible piety ; whereas she was but an unscru- 
 pulous, good sort of woman. 
 
 Mr Edward Morland thought very well of his 
 sister-in-law, and rather admired her person 
 (which was, perhaps, the plainest you ever saw) : 
 as did most other men ; for she had a knack of 
 flattering the sex in a way that seldom failed to 
 reach their hearts ; and she had many sterling 
 qualities, though not exactly all to which she 
 pretended. He would have liked her less had 
 he known that she carefully avoided putting 
 Lord Morland in mind that he had a sister ; the 
 only step necessary to have made him very will- 
 ing to be reconciled to Mrs Fleming. For Lady 
 Morland had a great dread of dividing what little 
 interest she might possess over her husband's 
 heart ; and though sometimes she was compelled 
 to share her sceptre with an opera dancer, yet 
 that was a very different thing to having his sister 
 running in and out of Thornley, and perhaps mak- 
 ing herself of consequence, and giving him advice. 
 
 Mrs Fleming would have cared little for her
 
 20 LENA, 
 
 sister-in-law's neglect, had she even known it to 
 have been systematic. She was too happy in 
 her home to give a thought to anything else. 
 Colonel Fleming was handsome, brave, and for- 
 tunate ; he had risen rapidly in his profession ; 
 his private fortune was not too narrow for the 
 comforts, even the luxuries of life ; he and Mrs 
 Fleming were cited as the happiest and most 
 attached couple in the world. 
 
 But this sort of thing never lasts long: I 
 do not mean the attachment, but the happi- 
 ness. A few years after his marriage, Colonel 
 Fleming's regiment was ordered to India. Mrs 
 Fleming was eager to accompany him ; but then 
 came the question of the children : they were 
 just at that age when it was not possible, with 
 any chance of their living, to take them out to 
 a tropical country. Her brother advised her to 
 take a villa at Richmond, and settle there till 
 Colonel Fleming could procure an exchange ; or, 
 at the worst, till they could all go out to him 
 together, without danger to the children from
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 21 
 
 the climate. It was at this villa that she was 
 presented to the reader, on the evening that 
 made her a widow, and her children motherless. 
 
 A week had passed ; then came a day when 
 the windows were all thrown open, and the 
 two children, in their black frocks, were led into 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 A gentleman dressed in deep mourning was 
 standing with his back to the fire; he had a 
 bald head and a peaked beard, looking — though 
 quite unconsciously — like the Chandos portrait 
 of Shakspeare : the same splendid eyes, the 
 same bad line of mouth. 
 
 A lady was seated on the sofa, short, swarthy, 
 with one eye bigger than the other, as black as 
 crape and cachmere could make her. 
 
 These were Lord and Lady Morland. 
 
 Mr Morland, who was standing at the win- 
 dow came forward and led his nieces to their 
 uncle and aunt. 
 
 They had arrived that day : Lord Morland 
 to attend the funeral of his sister, his lady to
 
 22 
 
 enter into some arrangements about their 
 nieces. 
 
 Lord Morland patted both the girls kindly on 
 the head, and passed them on to Lady Morland ; 
 who kissed them, called them poor little loves, 
 and cried a little : or seemed to do so. 
 
 Cecil clung to her uncle Ned's hand, and 
 would not let it go ; Laura leaned against her 
 aunt Morland's knees, and played with the or- 
 naments of her steel chatelaine. 
 
 Lord Morland's carriage was announced. He 
 was going straight off to Newmarket. 
 
 " You will settle every thing with my lady," 
 he said to his brother. " I shall be delighted 
 to agree to all you propose : let Thornley be 
 their home — or, in fact, whatever you think 
 best." 
 
 Then patting his nieces again on the head, he 
 nodded to Lady Morland and his brother, and 
 hurried out of the room. Her ladyship then 
 turned to contemplate the little orphans, with 
 the speculative eye of one who already looked
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 23 
 
 forward to the chances of the matrimonial 
 market. 
 
 Cecil was eleven years old, tall for her age, 
 with that supple grace in all her movements 
 which is said to distinguish the Andalusian 
 women. Her complexion was so rich, that she 
 sometimes, at the first glance, was mistaken for 
 a brunette, from the warm glow on her velvet 
 cheek ; though her skin was of the most pearly 
 whiteness, her hair light brown with a golden 
 gloss, and her long laughing eyes of the deepest 
 blue. Her nose was straight, her lips full, curved, 
 and crimson, and her little chin dimpled, as if 
 a fairy's finger had touched it at her birth. She 
 appeared to strangers reserved and haughty, 
 drawing up her beautiful little pillar of a neck, 
 and half closing her deeply fringed eyelids, with 
 an air of frigid disdain. But with her com- 
 panions all this pride vanished : she was gener- 
 ous, warm-hearted, and only too much of a 
 romp for modern fashions. 
 
 Laura was two years younger than her sister,
 
 24 LENA, 
 
 and much more slender in her proportions, with 
 a face so delicate that it looked like an exquisite 
 carving in ivory, with large eyes of the deepest 
 blue, and a profusion of rich brown hair. She 
 was quite a Morland, as her aunt told her, and 
 Cecil altogether a Fleming. But it was on re- 
 cord that Laura had never given up a single 
 thing she liked, nor done what she did not like, 
 for any human creature : and it would be well 
 for society if the Morlands were the only family 
 in which that peculiarity might be found. 
 
 Cecil's beauty was clouded by tears and fast- 
 ing ; but enough remained to show Lady Mor- 
 land what she was likely to turn out. Laura, 
 who had revelled all the past week in a double 
 share of pudding and dessert, was fresh and 
 blooming as ever. 
 
 " Ah ! dearest Edward, " exclaimed Lady 
 Morland, when the children were withdrawn, 
 " we know ivho tempers the wind to the shorn 
 lamb." 
 
 Mr Morland could not follow his sister-in-
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 25 
 
 law's flights of fancy at any time : he did not 
 see how his warmly clad little nieces deserved 
 the epithet she had bestowed on them. But he 
 was anxious that they should be under her 
 care ; and, aware that he must accept a certain 
 number of moral sentences .before she came to 
 the point, he armed himself with patience, slid 
 from the mantelpiece to the sofa, and like an 
 angler waited quietly for her to come to the 
 surface. 
 
 " I did think that Lady John would have 
 insisted on claiming these dear orphans," she 
 said pensively : " but this only shows us the 
 value of all earthly friendships." 
 
 " If you want to know the key to her friend- 
 ship for Cecilia, I can tell you," he said : " two 
 of her boys are meant for the army, and Flem- 
 ing was a rising man : he would have made one 
 of them his aid-de-camp." 
 
 " I never like to think the worst of my fel- 
 low-creatures," said Lady Morland, with a sigh ; 
 " we are all frail beings. And, talking of boys, 
 there 's my Basil "
 
 26 LENA, 
 
 " I don't know in what sense Basil is plural," 
 remarked Mr Morland, half aside, " except that 
 he has vice enough for half-a-dozen." 
 
 " I mean in case of any attachment being 
 formed between the cousins," said Lady Mor- 
 land. 
 
 " Deuced unfortunate — for the girls," said 
 Mr Morland in soliloquy. 
 
 " Ah ! you do not see my Basil as he really 
 is," said Lady Morland, "because he has a high 
 spirit." 
 
 " A low spirit I should call it," said Mr Mor- 
 land : "by your own showing he is seldom out 
 of the stable." 
 
 " And can you wonder, when you know his 
 poor father's habits ?" said Lady Morland. 
 
 " I don't wonder in the least — I merely re- 
 mark it," said Mr Morland : "only I don't mean 
 that Basil shall marry one of my wards." 
 
 "A most excellent, conscientious guardian 
 they will have !" exclaimed Lady Morland with 
 fervour. " Colonel Fleming knew in what hands 
 he left his children. Such judgment ! — such
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 27 
 
 kindness ! For though, my dear Edward, you 
 are a little fond of play — " 
 
 "I wish I had been a little fond of it," he 
 answered, carelessly : " but that 's over now." 
 
 " Indeed ! I rejoice to hear it : and when 
 has this happy change taken place ? " asked her 
 ladyship. 
 
 Mr Morland's thoughts went back one week, 
 to the " dim chamber" where his sister's dying 
 look had commended her child to his care ; 
 but as he never exposed his feelings, he replied 
 only by his slight ironical laugh, and changed 
 the subject. 
 
 " I had a letter to-day from Mr Fleming, the 
 colonel's brother, full of kindness and liberality " 
 he said : " both Mr and Mrs Fleming earnestly 
 desire to adopt the children." 
 
 " Oh, Edward ! those Flemings ! I am sure 
 that you, who are so perfect a gentleman, will 
 never consent to that," she exclaimed. " Who 
 and what is Mr Fleming ?" 
 
 " A merchant, if you please ; and a man for
 
 28 LENA, 
 
 whom I have a great regard : he is also one of 
 the richest men in the city." 
 
 " Far be it from me to say anything dispara- 
 ging to mercantile pursuits," said Lady Mor- 
 land ; l ' indeed you may have heard that my own 
 dear father was, in his early days, connected 
 with something of that nature. (He had been 
 an ironmonger). But still Providence has per- 
 mitted different grades to exist in society, and 
 it is not for us to interfere with the arrange- 
 ment. Lord Morland's nieces should be under 
 his roof." 
 
 " One of two things," said Mr Morland, 
 coolly ; " either I hand over the children to the 
 Flemings, or I place them with you. Their 
 lawyer will do all that is proper in the way of 
 finance ; they are not beggars : they have above 
 a thousand a-year between them." 
 
 " Of course we take them : that is settled. 
 Thornley is their natural home," said Lady 
 Morland. 
 
 " When I say you take them," continued Mr
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 29 
 
 Morland, I mean for the present — for the next 
 few years : when your girls come out, of course 
 they turn out." 
 
 "Oh!" said Lady Morland, with her little 
 candid laugh, " let us hope there is room enough 
 in the world for all the four cousins." 
 
 " In the world, perhaps, but not in your 
 drawing-room," replied Mr Morland. "My af- 
 fairs you know are not very flourishing at pre- 
 sent, and I can't live at Scarbrook — in fact it ? s 
 let : but before these children are old enough 
 to need it, I hope to have it in my power to 
 offer them a permanent home." 
 
 This matter being adjusted, Lady Morland 
 returned to Thornley; leaving her brother to 
 follow with the children as soon as he had 
 arranged some few pressing affairs. 
 
 Cecil was not at all satisfied with the news 
 that she and Laura were to go and live with 
 their aunt Morland. She had that dislike to 
 whatever is insincere which every one has ex- 
 perienced in times of affliction, and which chil- 
 dren feel without beinn able to define.
 
 30 LENA, 
 
 " She will be very kind to you, Cecil," said 
 her uncle : " she is a very excellent woman." 
 
 "And my cousins, uncle, what are they like ? " 
 
 " They are not pretty, but I should not think 
 them hard to live with : the eldest perhaps a 
 little haughty ; the youngest stupid, and there- 
 fore mischievous. Always be on the look-out 
 with a stupid woman, for she will do you an 
 ill-turn from sheer inability to do anybody a 
 £ood one." 
 
 " And my cousin Basil, uncle ?" 
 
 " Take care you have as little as possible to 
 say to Basil. When you are older, I will ex- 
 plain to you why and wherefore." 
 
 " Yes, uncle : I wish I was older." 
 
 " Ah, we are all of us very wise : I wonder 
 what we expect that Time will bring us in his 
 wallet." "Well, Simpson?" 
 
 The butler came in to say that a man had 
 been despatched from Thornley, and desired to 
 speak with Mr Morland. 
 
 "Show him in," said Mr Morland. "What 
 can be the matter there, I wonder ? "
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 31 
 
 An old man, with picturesque silver hair, 
 made his appearance ; very simple and rustic 
 in his manner, with the air of being perfectly 
 at home in any society. 
 
 " Well, John, take a chair : anything wrong 
 at Thornley?" said Mr Morland. 
 
 "Well, Mr Edward," said John, leaning on 
 his stick, " Mr Basil have run away." 
 
 Cecil started, and looked at her uncle, who 
 merely gave a low whistle, and waited for 
 farther information. 
 
 " So, Mr Edward," pursued John, leisurely, 
 " my lady sent me off to you directly, being as 
 how she was too distracted to write." 
 
 " Yes, I know she always is, when anything 
 happens," said Mr Morland : " and so — " 
 
 " So she begs you will send the young misses 
 to Thornley along of me, and go straight after 
 Mr Basil yourself," said John. 
 
 " Well, but which way am I to go, John ?" 
 
 "Why, sir," said John, sitting down, and 
 gently depositing his hat upon the floor, as a pre-
 
 32 LENA, 
 
 liminary to a long gossip, " Dr Fell do say he 
 be gone with the gipsies." 
 
 " Very amusing ! — North or south, eh, John?" 
 " Why, Mr Ned, that 's more than I know ; 
 but this I do know, he be gone as far as ever he 
 can from Dr Fell." 
 
 " A nice young gentleman, on my word ! " 
 " Be n't he, Mr Ned ? To be sure he do ride 
 Brown Bess like an angel." 
 
 " Brown Bess is the better angel of the two, 
 to my mind, John. But about Mr Basil : when 
 did you miss him?" 
 
 " Why, sir, this morning at breakfast. Dr 
 Fell he came to my lady in a mortal fright: 
 but I know'd Mr Basil wouldn't go on quiet 
 for long, for he says to me only yesterday, 
 1 John, I 'm not going to stand much more of 
 
 Dr Fell : if I do, may I be d d ' : begging 
 
 the young lady's pardon, Mr Edward." 
 
 " And what had Dr Fell done to him, pray?" 
 "Oh! I don't know, Mr Ned; but he was 
 always a-teaching of him something or other."
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 33 
 
 "Well, that was aggravating : however, John, 
 my lady must be obeyed. While you go and 
 refresh yourself, the young ladies shall get ready 
 to return with you ; and I shall not show my- 
 self at Thornley till I have discovered the re- 
 treat of Mr Basil. Come, Cecil, we must bustle 
 about; we have only two hours, when we thought 
 to have two days." 
 
 " Going without you, uncle !" said Cecil, be- 
 ginning to cry. 
 
 " Oh ! if you mind it, I '11 go with you, and 
 start from Thornley after this confounded boy, 
 instead of from here." 
 
 Cecil threw herself into his arms. 
 
 " Well, now, cheer up. Tell Miss Laura to 
 pack her dolls and her gingerbread, and to 
 make haste about it; and, Cecil, as you are 
 going to live among strangers, I '11 give you a 
 piece of advice — a thing I am not in the habit 
 of scattering about : for people are very easily 
 persuaded to bad ; but persuade them to good, 
 and they set up their backs like a camel." 
 
 vol. i. c
 
 34 LENA, OE THE SILENT WOMAN. 
 
 " Yes, uncle." 
 
 " Be silent and straightforward, and you will 
 have two weapons in your hands, of which you 
 will know the value by and bye. Now, run 
 after Laura, child, and make your adieu to Mrs 
 Freeman." 
 
 In two hours the carriage was announced ; 
 their uncle lifted them in, and before Cecil had 
 raised her tearful face from his shoulder, they 
 were out of sight of their old home.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Those that live single take it for a curse, j 
 
 Or doe things worse 
 
 Some would have children, those that have them mone, 
 
 Or wish them gone. 
 
 Lord Bacon. 
 
 Lady Mokland received them very kindly. 
 Although she was in great anxiety about her 
 son, she was sufficiently collected to make them 
 welcome ; and uncle Ned, as he set out on what 
 he termed " a sleeveless errand," had the satis- 
 faction of seeing them comfortably seated round 
 the fire, chattering to their aunt as if they had 
 known her for years. 
 
 " Well now, my loves," said Lady Morland,
 
 36 LENA 
 
 rising, " we will go into the study, and you shall 
 make the acquaintance of your little cousins." 
 
 Cecil's deep eyelids descended, with her most 
 freezing look ; she had imbibed the notion that 
 her cousins looked down upon her, for she had 
 somehow or other heard it whispered that her 
 mother was thought to have married beneath 
 her station. 
 
 There was nothing prepossessing in the first 
 aspect of the honourable young ladies. They 
 were very little for their age. Louisa was dark 
 and sallow, with a very large hooked nose, and 
 a long chin. Henrietta, still more sickly-looking, 
 with light hair, and the lower part of her face 
 protruding like an ape. 
 
 "I ' m glad I am not a Morland," was Cecil's 
 thought, as she contrasted her own features with 
 those of her little cousins. 
 
 Louisa was playing something very brilliant 
 with all the force of her little thin arms ; Hen- 
 rietta, hanging over a slate in an agony of stu- 
 pefaction. They were a little worse off than the
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 37 
 
 hardest worked factory girl ; inasmuch as the 
 brain is the most delicate organ that can be 
 overworked : but it is a consoling fact, that 
 some people's brains, like their hands, will be- 
 come callous from hard labour, and then there 
 is not so much harm done. 
 
 " My dear girls, come and welcome your 
 cousins to Thornley," said LadyMorland: "I 
 am sure you will be very good friends. Miss 
 Penley will give you a holiday to become ac- 
 quainted." Then gently impelling the two 
 Flemings a little more into the room, she nod- 
 ded to Miss Penley, and withdrew. 
 
 Louisa and Henrietta had risen when their 
 mamma spoke to them, and now advanced a 
 step or two forward, with the most listless in- 
 difference expressed upon their countenances. 
 
 Miss Penley had stolen out of the room to 
 learn if it were really her ladyship's pleasure 
 that so many precious hours were to be wasted 
 in cultivating her pupils' feelings, instead of 
 their finger ends — a fact she could not believe 
 without confirmation.
 
 38 LENA, 
 
 Meantime Cecil and Laura stood hand in 
 hand near the door, while Lou and Hen, as 
 they were called, stared fixedly at them, with- 
 out speaking. It might safely be said that 
 no girls with good hearts would so have received 
 their orphan cousins. But Cecil had not been 
 her uncle Ned's companion for nothing: she 
 was not to be easily daunted. She surveyed 
 her puny cousins from head to foot, and then 
 moving towards the table, with her stately un- 
 dulating walk, she drew a chair for Laura, and 
 one for herself, and pulling towards her a book 
 of engravings, began to turn them over. Lou 
 and Hen exchanged glances. 
 
 ' What 's your name ? " asked Lou, moving a 
 little nearer to Cecil. 
 
 " Mine ? " asked Cecil, regarding her cousin 
 through her half- closed Hds. 
 
 " Yours — if one may be so bold," said Lou. 
 
 "Cecil Fleming," she replied, in a steady tone. 
 
 " Are you come to live here? " asked Lou. 
 
 "That depends, in a measure, on how you 
 behave," returned Cecil.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 39 
 
 Louisa turned to Hen with an astonished 
 countenance; but Hen and Laura were amicably 
 seated at the little work table, making acquain- 
 tance fast. 
 
 " Your uncle is a merchant, is not he ? " said 
 Lou. 
 
 " Yes — do you know what your grandfather 
 was ? " 
 
 " My grandfather, Lord Morland, was in the 
 army." 
 
 " Your mother's father — Fletcher, the iron- 
 monger? because he was not a merchant." 
 
 Lou's pale face grew paler; but though she 
 could say any rude thing, she was not great in 
 repartee: her indignation was speechless. But 
 the disputes of children, when not meddled with 
 by their elders, usually come to nothing ; and 
 people who wish them well had better always 
 let them fight their own battles, and not try to 
 reconcile them, as most teachers do, by proving 
 them both in the wrong. 
 
 The next morning Cecil and Laura were duly
 
 40 LENA, 
 
 put upon the treadmill with their two cousins, 
 and they fell at once into the monotonous course 
 of life observed at Thornley. 
 
 Lady Morland, when deprived of her hus- 
 band's society, led a very secluded life: very 
 seldom having any company, dining early with 
 the children, and assembling them with their 
 tutor and governess in the drawing-room every 
 evening ; where they worked, read, and played 
 the harp and piano until they separated for the 
 night. There was a recess at the end of the 
 large drawing-room, where stood a table appro - 
 priated to the girls, and covered with all kinds 
 of gay fabrics. Lady Morland, with her arm- 
 chair and taper by the fireside, usually read to 
 herself ; Miss Penley presided at the piano ; and 
 the pompous Dr Fell, now deprived of his pupil, 
 sometimes played at backgammon with the 
 nervous Hen ; but generally, as soon as tea was 
 over, he retreated to the library. 
 
 It was upon the third evening of their stay at 
 Thornley, as the girls were working and talking
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 41 
 
 apart, Miss Penley racking the poor piano, and 
 Lady Morland gently dozing, when the door was 
 thrown open, and the butler's sonorous voice 
 announced "Mr Morland, and Mr Edward 
 Morland ! "— 
 
 Mr Morland being the Basil, whose absence 
 might be supposed to have cast a shade over 
 the family circle. 
 
 Lady Morland woke up, Miss Penley stole 
 out of the room, Cecil made a little friendly 
 sign to her uncle Ned, Laura stared at Basil, 
 and the Miss Morlands raised their heads for a 
 moment, and then went on with their netting. 
 
 Basil, then about fourteen, was decidedly bet- 
 ter looking than his sisters. He had a profusion of 
 yellow hair, a complexion soft as velvet — 
 though deeply dyed red and brown from expo- 
 sure to weather — a straight nose, dark hazel 
 eyes, and that Italian badness about the mouth, 
 which disfigures the faces of most subordinate 
 figures in pictures of the Roman school : a 
 mouth expressive of malice and selfishness.
 
 42 LENA, 
 
 He now followed his uncle into the room, 
 gloriously sulky, and carefully avoiding to look 
 any body in the face. 
 
 Mr Edward Morland, therefore, shook hands 
 with his sister-in-law; and observing that his 
 nephew did not follow his example, but re- 
 mained obstinately gazing at the furniture, 
 mentioned Lady Morland to him, as if she had 
 been a stranger ; and Basil, surprised into civi- 
 lity by the irony of the introduction, muttered 
 something like a salutation to his mother. 
 
 " Your cousin, children," said uncle Ned to 
 the two Flemings : " when he 's clean, he will 
 be glad to shake hands with you." 
 
 Basil cast his eyes upon the girls with a sav- 
 age scowl, but coloured scarlet at his uncle's 
 sarcasm. 
 
 Lady Morland was an anxious but not an af- 
 fectionate mother : she looked on her recovered 
 treasure without the least inclination to clasp 
 him to her heart; but bent her eye-glass atten- 
 tively on his untidy figure : particularly his hair,
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 43 
 
 which was tangled, and garnished liberally with 
 
 straws. 
 
 " We have had a little run into Notts," said 
 
 uncle Ned, leaning back comfortably in his 
 
 arm-chair. " We were found on the borders of 
 I 
 
 the Walbeck forest, doing a bit of Robin Hood. 
 I believe I saved the heir-apparent from the 
 constables : he had just been helping to rob a 
 hen-roost with great success." 
 
 Lady Morland had unfolded her transparent 
 handkerchief by this time. 
 
 " You must imagine my gratitude to you, 
 my dearest Edward," she said : " I 'm sure I 
 cannot put it into words. And how to act with 
 this rebellious boy I know not. I look to you 
 for advice : for as to guessing where Lord Mor- 
 land is at this present time, I might as well try 
 to guess the longitude." 
 
 A grin from Mr Morland, who greatly ad- 
 mired and envied his father's wandering habits. 
 
 " Why, my dear Lady Morland," replied 
 uncle Ned ; " it is simply a question of finance.
 
 44 LENA, 
 
 which my Hon. nephew can almost decide for 
 himself: if he wishes to return to the gipsies, it 
 will be easy to compute his weekly expenses, 
 including liquor to propitiate his companions." 
 
 " Oh ! Edward, do be serious !" exclaimed 
 Lady Morland. 
 
 " If that does not exactly meet his wishes, 
 we must learn, if we can, what will," said uncle 
 Ned, facing his chair round towards Basil : 
 " provided the young gentleman can be induced 
 to speak." 
 
 " I hate Dr Fell," said Mr Morland. 
 
 " Very good : that is one point gained. I 'm 
 the last man in the world to vindicate Dr Fell ; 
 your dislike is purely historical : and, besides, 
 John Fraser tells me, he was possessed with an 
 insane wish to teach you something." 
 
 Basil coloured crimson again. 
 
 " We know that you don't want Dr Fell," 
 pursued uncle Ned : " perhaps you will let us 
 know what you do want ?" 
 
 " I want to go to Germany," grumbled Basil.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 45 
 
 " To be sure," said his uncle, with ready ac- 
 quiescence : " any particular part?" 
 
 " To the University," said Basil, his colour 
 growing deeper every minute. 
 
 " Yes ; only, as there are more than one uni- 
 versity in the nine circles," — began uncle Ned. 
 
 But Lady Morland interrupted him. 
 
 " Germany ! Good gracious, Edward, put a 
 stop to that idea, I do entreat ! He will become 
 an atheist, a gambler, and a vulgar creature 
 smelling of smoke and beer! I never, never 
 will consent to that." 
 
 " My dear Lady Morland," said uncle Ned, 
 looking at the young gentleman's dogged coun- 
 tenance, "let us ascertain the real extent of the 
 mischief. I think my friend's religious views 
 are not remarkably definite at present : he plays 
 at pitch and toss : he drinks whatever he can 
 get ; and if I were inclined to be fastidious, I 
 should say that the odour of tobacco would be a 
 slight improvement upon his present condition. 
 The chances are, that he will spend less at Got-
 
 46 LENA, 
 
 tingen than at Oxford ; and though I am well 
 aware that the habits of the Burschen class are 
 not very refined, depend upon it they are a cut 
 above the gipsies. Add to this, that the law is 
 no respecter of persons ; and it would not be 
 very gratifying to find the heir of Morland in 
 the stocks, as a recompense for his assiduity on 
 the highway." 
 
 Lady Morland called herself a miserable 
 mother, and applied her handkerchief to her 
 eyes ; while uncle Ned, reclining in his arm- 
 chair, played with her beautiful spaniel. 
 
 At last she said, " It is very well to talk about 
 Germany, but the boy is not old enough to go 
 to college anywhere; and what is to be done 
 with him in the meantime ?" 
 
 " Perhaps he will kindly tell us," said the 
 uncle, still occupied in teazing the dog. " We 
 can't well get on without his opinion." 
 
 " I don't want to live at home with a lot of 
 girls," remarked Basil, casting a savage look at 
 the recess.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 47 
 
 " Well, there 's no accounting for tastes," said 
 uncle Ned, coolly. " Perhaps you would like 
 to try Eton?" 
 
 " I don't care if I do," said Basil. 
 
 " In that case you must put up with Dr Fell 
 till after the vacation : and it would not be 
 wholly amiss if you suffered him to impart to 
 you some slight portions of the Latin grammar ; 
 for though most people make a point of forget- 
 ting it all, yet it 's an awkward fact, that at 
 Eton they do learn something." 
 
 " Then I consider that arranged," said Lady 
 Morland ; " and one day I hope that ungracious 
 boy will look on you, Edward, as his deliverer. 
 As for my own feelings, I can't express them." 
 
 " Then now, Lady Morland," said uncle Ned, 
 " as we seem to have got through the sensibili- 
 ties of the case, perhaps you will allow me to 
 descend in the scale of emotion, and confess my- 
 self alarmingly hungry." 
 
 " Of course, my dear Edward : I 'm shocked 
 I did not think of it before. What will you 
 have ? There 's some excellent soup, I know.
 
 48 LENA, OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 
 
 Richards, dinner as soon as possible in the 
 other room ; or perhaps you would be warmer 
 
 here." 
 
 There was just a little more bustle about Lady 
 Morland than if she had been genuine ; but 
 then it was so kindly done that few men dis- 
 liked it : women were more severe. 
 
 Lou's apathy had been a little roused by the 
 scene. "Is n't it funny?" she whispered to 
 Cecil. 
 
 " It frightens me : he looks so surly," Cecil 
 replied. 
 
 "What a naughty boy!" exclaimed Laura. 
 
 " Yes," said Hen, " he always is. Once he 
 tried to run away before ; but Miss Penley told 
 of him, and that is why he hates her." 
 
 Lady Morland had sunk back exhausted in 
 her chair. 
 
 "Are you coming, Basil?" asked uncle Ned, 
 when his dinner was announced. 
 
 Basil cast a revengeful glance around, and 
 followed his uncle out of the room.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Thilk same shepherd mought'I well mark ; 
 He has a dog to bite or to bark : 
 Never had shepherd so keen a cur, 
 That waketh an if but a leaf stur. 
 
 Spexser. 
 
 It was the hour for recreation at Thornley ; 
 the girls were amusing themselves on the ter- 
 race, under the eye of Miss Penley : Cecil was 
 playing at ball with Louisa ; and Hen, leaning 
 upon Laura, was crawling up and down com- 
 plaining of her headache. 
 
 "Oh! here comes Basil!" cried Hen; "let 
 us run into the wilderness : he will set his dog 
 at us!" 
 
 Laura, who was very timid, set off with her 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 LENA, 
 
 cousin towards the shrubbery, just as Basil, fol- 
 lowed by a huge dog, stepped through the glass 
 doors upon the terrace. 
 
 " Upon my word, Basil," cried Louisa, " it is 
 too bad ! Mamma has forbidden you ever to 
 bring that savage beast in the gardens." 
 
 "I advise you not to interfere with me!" 
 growled Basil. " Here, Scamp, look out!" 
 
 "What is his name?" asked Cecil, boldly. 
 "Scamp! he's a famous dog! Hi! Scamp!" 
 and Cecil threw her large India-rubber ball, 
 with all her force, along the terrace. 
 
 The dog rushed at it, and Basil looked on 
 approvingly. Scamp brought back the ball to 
 Cecil ; but his teeth had pierced the India-rub- 
 ber, and it collapsed in her hand. 
 
 "Don't you see," said Basil, "the air has es- 
 caped ? — you should not have thrown it to him : 
 a stick would have done as well." 
 
 " The air!" said Cecil, "where is it gone?" 
 " It has mixed with the air around us," re- 
 plied Basil.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 51 
 
 "How did they put it in?" asked Cecil. 
 
 " They inflated the ball, and then closed up 
 the aperture," said Basil, showing her the patch 
 at the top of the ball. 
 
 " I don't understand," said Cecil. 
 
 " Of course you don't," retorted Basil. 
 
 " Then why don't you tell me?" asked Cecil. 
 "I'm younger than you : there 's no disgrace in 
 not knowing." 
 
 " Well, that 's true. He does not know," said 
 Basil, pointing to Dr Fell, who was lounging 
 along the terrace ; " and I ask any one, what is 
 the use of learning such humbug as Latin and 
 Greek, when there are things all round us of 
 which we are ignorant." 
 
 " Is that why you want to go to Germany?" 
 asked Cecil. 
 
 "That's one reason : I Ve heard they teach 
 natural philosophy there. Besides, that's the 
 way to learn German ; which is well worth 
 Latin, I hope." 
 
 " But the gipsies could not teach you that," 
 said Cecil. 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
 
 52 LENA, 
 
 Basil looked fiercely at her. 
 
 " I say the gipsies could teach you nothing," 
 repeated Cecil, undauntedly. 
 
 "I know that," said Basil ; " but I did not 
 mean to stay with them: I only went for a 
 lark." 
 
 " What 's a lark ?" asked Cecil. 
 
 " Look here," said Basil ; " did you ever wish 
 to get away and live in a desert island, and do 
 everything for yourself, like Robinson Crusoe?" 
 
 "To be sure," said Cecil, eagerly; " once I 
 got into a boat that I might try to find a desert 
 island for myself, but I only drifted down the 
 river." 
 
 " Why, you might have been lost, if a steamer 
 had run down on you," said Basil. 
 
 " Yes, it was very foolish ; but I was quite 
 young then," said Cecil : " and, now, tell me 
 about the air." 
 
 Miss Penley and the other girls collected to 
 look at Basil, as he paced leisurely up and down 
 the terrace, holding by Cecil's black tippet, and
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 53 
 
 gesticulating as he explained to her some of his 
 favourite theories. 
 
 The dinner bell interrupted their discourse ; 
 and then Cecil, as she went up the steps, remem- 
 bered her uncle Ned's words — " Have nothing 
 to say to Basil ; " but she thought his warning 
 could never apply to the atmosphere : had Basil 
 asked her to go into the stable, she would have 
 taken care to refuse. 
 
 Lady Morland was surprised and pleased to 
 see Basil make his way every evening to the 
 girls' work-table; sometimes with a book, in 
 which he was very anxious to point out some- 
 thing to Cecil. The chair next to her was his 
 especial property : if Lou chanced to have 
 taken it, she would start up at his approach and 
 run round the table ; for his wishes were not 
 expressed in the gentlest manner, and she knew 
 she stood a good chance of being thrown out of 
 her seat like a sack. 
 
 Cecil was far too generous to wish to receive 
 attention at the expense of another : she always
 
 54 LENA, 
 
 spoke her mind to him when he was rude to his 
 sisters ; and once when, enraged by Hen, who 
 had said something remarkably stupid, he had 
 permitted himself to pull her hair, Cecil reached 
 over and gave such a pluck at his amber locks, 
 that he found it more prudent to restrain him- 
 self in future. 
 
 Lady Morland was rejoiced to see all this ; she 
 
 i 
 
 knew that, even at their early age, there is some- 
 thing civilizing in female society ; and then when 
 they grew older, if there should be any attach- 
 ment, it would be perfectly easy to break it off : 
 for Basil would then be old enough to under- 
 stand how necessary it was that he should marry 
 a large fortune. 
 
 The Flemings had been settled at Thornley 
 about two months, when Lord Morland re- 
 turned. 
 
 Lady Morland was apprized of the fact by 
 the arrival of some of his horses and grooms in 
 the morning ; but the children were kept in 
 perfect ignorance, for she took her luncheon
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 55 
 
 with them as usual, and they did not know 
 that a late dinner was ordered. She had a 
 habit, which she kept up through life, of never 
 communicating to them anything that could be 
 kept back. 
 
 So, when they were all in the drawing-room, 
 after their early tea, Lord Morland came in, 
 dressed for dinner ; and Cecil wondered why 
 her cousins were not glad, or startled, or any- 
 thing, but just looked up when he nodded, and 
 then looked down again on their bead-work. 
 Lady Morland never showed her wisdom more 
 than by the way she received Lord Morland after 
 an absence. If she had had a grain of affection 
 for him she could not have done it : she would 
 have been constrained and timid, and annoyed 
 him much more than if she had reproached 
 him ; but Lady Morland's nerves were strong, 
 and her feelings weak, and she got on famously. 
 
 She was seated in her usual black velvet 
 dress ; he nodded to her ; she graciously 
 stretched out her hand.
 
 5$ LENA 
 
 " Glad to see your ladyship looking so well, 
 said Lord Morland. 
 
 "Thank you, I was never better; but you 
 always come home looking thinner, don't you?" 
 
 This pleased Lord Morland, who was inclined 
 to be too stout ; and she knew it. 
 
 " Do I ? — I'm quite well, though," he replied, 
 " we have had such excellent weather." 
 
 " We have been in such a state of confusion 
 since you left," said Lady Morland : " Basil ran 
 away ! " 
 
 " The deuce he did ! — He will come back, I 
 suppose, when he 's tired of it," said Lord Mor- 
 land, with the most perfect composure. 
 
 " Oh ! he is come back, I am thankful to 
 say," replied Lady Morland: " your dear brother 
 found him. He certainly is the best and kindest 
 friend in the world." 
 
 " Capital !" said Lord Morland. 
 
 " You have not seen him lately, I suppose, 
 as you have heard nothing about it," said Lady 
 Morland.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 57 
 
 " No ; I am direct from Chester : I have not 
 been in town these three weeks." 
 
 " I hope you have been fortunate," said Lady 
 Morland. 
 
 " Never had such a run of ill luck in my 
 life," replied Lord Morland coolly. 
 
 " You don't say so ! — that is vexatious : such 
 pains as you always take with your horses, too. 
 I am sure you deserve to succeed," said Lady 
 Morland, with just the proper amount of sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 " You are very kind," said Lord Morland : 
 " are those the little Dawbeneys ?" 
 
 " My dear Lord, you don't remember : your 
 poor sister's children." 
 
 " Bless my soul ! I forgot ; I was wondering 
 how they came to be in mourning." 
 
 Nothing could be kinder or more courteous 
 than his manner, when he discovered them : he 
 welcomed them to Thornley, asked after their 
 pursuits, praised their beauty, took Laura on 
 his knee, rallied Cecil about Basil, and talked
 
 58 LENA, 
 
 all the good-natured nonsense that gentlemen 
 will talk to pretty children. 
 
 Cecil found out that evening, to her great 
 amusement, that Lord Morland did not know 
 his daughters' names. 
 
 " Lou, my dear," he said to Hen, " I wish 
 you would give me the newspaper." 
 
 " My dear Lord, this is Hen," said Lady 
 Morland, laughing ; but he made the same 
 mistake again when he spoke to Lou. 
 
 Basil seemed on better terms with his father 
 than with the rest of his family. Lord Mor- 
 land did not say a word to him about his esca- 
 pade with the gipsies : indeed, he probably 
 had forgot it by that time. He congratulated 
 him on going to Eton, and remarked that it 
 was there he himself acquired his liking for 
 rowing, an exercise in which he excelled. 
 
 While his father was at Thornley, Basil did 
 not make a pretence of attending to Dr Fell, 
 but followed Lord Morland about the stables 
 and gardens with great perseverance. But Lord
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 59 
 
 Morlancl's appearance was the signal for idleness 
 in other quarters : Miss Penley was obliged to 
 suspend her treadmill for a while, when he was 
 at home ; and the very next morning he came 
 into the study, and in the most friendly man- 
 ner told her that he was come to run away with 
 her pupils, for the strawberries were ripe, and 
 he meant to turn them loose among the beds. 
 
 Miss Penley bowed, with a sense of injury 
 too deep for words. Cecil ran gaily up to her 
 uncle ; Hen raised her head from her eternal 
 slate, misty with constant rubbing out, and 
 smiled a little, for she liked strawberries ; but 
 Lou was past caring for anything, and was, 
 besides, afraid of Basil, who stood outside the 
 door. 
 
 Basil had grown quite gallant : he gathered 
 strawberries for Cecil as lono; as she would eat 
 them, and then gathered more, that she might 
 amuse herself by giving them to one of Lord 
 Morland's spaniels, which had followed them 
 into the garden.
 
 60 LENA 
 
 Lord Morland looked on, highly amused. 
 Cecil was the sort of girl he liked — beauti- 
 ful, spirited, and with the keen sense of enjoy- 
 ment, in which his own children were so 
 deficient. Basil asked his father to let Cecil 
 ride with them ; and she found herself, to her 
 extreme delight, mounted on a very stout 
 cream-coloured pony the next day, scampering 
 over the country, with her uncle and cousin. 
 It is true she had no habit, and Lady Morland 
 did not think it necessary to get her one ; but 
 with her garden hat, and a shawl round her 
 feet, she enjoyed her rides full as much as if 
 she had been better dressed. Her pony would 
 leap like a deer, and scramble like a cat ; and, 
 perfectly without fear, she would dash at banks 
 and hedges, where even Lord Morland, with 
 his beautiful monture, hesitated to follow. Her 
 companions did nothing but laugh at her dar- 
 ing ways and quick replies. 
 
 Lord Morland grew very fond of her. His 
 first question on entering the house was usually
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 61 
 
 "Where's Cis?" and then she had to be sum- 
 moned from her geography, or her French dic- 
 tation. A word from Lady Morland would 
 have checked these interruptions ; for she had 
 absolute command at Thornley, where Lord 
 Morland (with some reason) seemed to consider 
 himself as a visiter : but she was only too glad 
 there was anything in the house to amuse him ; 
 and as for his preferring Cecil to his own 
 daughters, she was not over fond of them 
 herself, and it never gave her a moment's 
 concern. 
 
 It was no wonder that Cecil felt herself 
 deserted by all the world, when Lord Morland 
 went for grouse-shooting to Scotland, and Basil 
 to Eton, and uncle Ned was cruising among 
 the Greek isles with a friend who had a 
 yacht. 
 
 For the next three years Cecil's character 
 went on forming as it could. She played the 
 piano admirably, like any other clever girl 
 who had flexible fingers and practised a good
 
 62 
 
 deal ; and spoke French better than most wo- 
 men. She was inclined to despise all about her ; 
 for her cousins were very inferior ; Lady Mor- 
 land always struck her as fictitious, and Miss 
 Penley was so servile as almost to excuse her 
 disdain : and something within her seemed to 
 point out that Lou, painting miniatures, and 
 Laura playing the harp, and the decrepit Hen 
 doing every known kind of work, was not 
 quite all for which souls were created. She 
 read eagerly : and in history she felt there was 
 something connected with great names, that 
 made life more honoured than what went on 
 around her: faith, love, duty, were not mere 
 words, when they led people to live and die 
 like some of the heroes of old. 
 
 But she had to think it all through by herself: 
 when she saw her uncle Ned, and consulted him, 
 he used to tell her to ask the parson ; it was in 
 vain she represented she had no parson to ask. 
 Meantime she had learned a lesson which par- 
 sons are not ordained to impart — the excessively
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 63 
 
 small value of accomplishments (so called) to a 
 woman. Lou, and Hen, and Laura, were daily 
 becoming more accomplished, and yet how di- 
 minutive were their powers : they could not 
 talk ; they could not even enjoy. The sight of 
 them made Lord Morland yawn ; and Basil 
 hated them, because there was something so 
 shrivelled and paltry in their natures. Cecil 
 had begun to find out that, to be able to think 
 and speak to the purpose, people must read a 
 good deal, and reflect upon it : their paint- 
 brushes and their piano could not make them 
 companions. Basil lent her books as well as 
 horses ; in the holidays they were always to- 
 gether : in the morning riding or boating, in 
 the evening poring over those elementary works 
 which have brought natural philosojohy within 
 the reach of boys and girls. 
 
 Lord Morland used to laugh when he saw 
 their heads stooping over the same book, study- 
 ing acoustics, or the laws of motion, and say it 
 was time to begin the settlements ; while Lady
 
 64 LENA, 
 
 Morland rejoiced that Basil was kept out of the 
 stable, and cared very little for the means em- 
 ployed. 
 
 Next to riding the cream-coloured pony, 
 Cecil's great delight was to be rowed on the 
 canal in the wager-boat. Basil had returned 
 from Eton with some skill, and a great fond- 
 ness for boating ; but his father could not trust 
 him on the water with his cousin. 
 
 "It's as much as I dare do myself," he said ; 
 " and I would not venture to row another wo- 
 man for a hundred pounds in that cockle-shell : 
 but Cis has such a figure — such a perfect 
 balance — that the boat sits on the water like a 
 petrel when she 's in it." And indeed the fragile 
 outrigger was so nicely poised, that it looked 
 as if the fall of a leaf would have disturbed its 
 equilibrium. 
 
 One day, Basil was getting the boat ready 
 for his father, and Cecil was looking on, while 
 Lord Morland and her uncle Ned were lounging 
 under the trees smoking. Cecil always liked
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 65 
 
 to pick up scraps of their conversation, which 
 sometimes turned on their acquaintance, and 
 sometimes on persons in public life ; and they 
 would have been a little astonished now and then 
 had they known how very much she contrived 
 to overhear. 
 
 She heard her uncle Morland say — 
 
 " Old Axminster breaks a good deal, I think." 
 
 " Enough to make him," said her uncle Ned, 
 drily. 
 
 " I wish I had as little," said Lord Morland. 
 " Why he must have left the turf these twenty 
 years :" 
 
 " And of course a man can have no other 
 anxieties," said uncle Ned, laughing. 
 
 " You keep up some acquaintance with his 
 son Lord Hurstmonceaux, don't you ? " said 
 Lord Morland. 
 
 " Thank you ! no, not at present : he 's dead," 
 said uncle Ned. 
 
 " Dead ! you don't say so ? Then what 's 
 become of his wife ? " asked Lord Morland. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 66 LENA, 
 
 " Dead too," replied uncle Ned, lighting his 
 cigar. 
 
 " Bless my soul — both of. them ! " exclaimed 
 Lord Morland. 
 
 " I don't see what she could do better," 
 said his brother: "but she had no choice in 
 the matter — the same fever carried them both 
 off." 
 
 " Ah ! you see that 's what people get by 
 going abroad," said Lord Morland. " And 
 what sort of a fellow is young Wrexworth ? " 
 
 " I don't enjoy his acquaintance," said Mr 
 Morland, "but I believe he is a roving sort of 
 person, always at sea. The last I heard of him 
 was his being wrecked in a speronaro on the 
 coast of Sicily, near Syracuse ; and a very nar- 
 row escape he had. His parents doted on 
 him: but that's not unusual with an only 
 child." 
 
 "What a capital thing it would have been 
 for John Dawbeney if he had been lost," said 
 Lord Morland.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 67 
 
 " Very : but my interest goes all the other 
 way," said uncle Ned. 
 
 " I am sure so does mine," said Lord Morland. 
 " I think John Dawbeney the greatest snob 
 I ever saw : really, to see him on horseback, it 's 
 pitiable ; and a more conceited fellow does not 
 breathe." 
 
 " And Lady John is worse," said uncle Ned : 
 "the way she has behaved to poor Cecilia's 
 children, — " 
 
 This was a theme on which Cecil could have 
 listened for ever ; but they moved away farther 
 under the trees. 
 
 " Basil," she said, " who is old Axminster ?" 
 
 " The Duke of Axminster," he said, " Lord 
 John Dawbeney's father. You would hear 
 enough of him if you knew Charles and Au- 
 gustus Dawbeney : 'the Duke' is never out of 
 their mouths. We laugh at them famously at 
 Eton." 
 
 " And who then is Lord Hurstmonceaux ? " 
 
 " Lord Wrexworth, his grandson, is now
 
 68 LENA, OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 
 
 Lord Hurstmonceaux ; but the one they were 
 talking of was his eldest son. Charles Daw- 
 beney used often to wish him dead — the young 
 one I mean ; because then, you know, he would 
 be Duke of Axminster." 
 
 " Now, Cis, is all ready? " asked Lord Mor- 
 land, joining them. 
 
 "Yes, uncle," said Cecil, stepping daintily 
 into the very centre of the boat. " I hope we 
 shall be out a long time." 
 
 " Bon voyage /" said her uncle Ned.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Besides the joys of place and birth, 
 
 The sex's paradise on earth : 
 
 A privilege so sacred held, 
 
 That none will to their mothers yield ; 
 
 But rather than not go before, 
 
 Abandon Heaven at the door. 
 
 Hudibras. 
 
 Two tilings of very little importance dwelt on 
 Cecil's mind more than she would have been 
 willing to allow : one, that she was, very proper- 
 ly, obliged to walk in and out of the room after 
 her two cousins. She could have readily sub- 
 mitted to this with Louisa, who was a year 
 older than herself; but Hen, who was a year 
 younger, and such a miserable little creature ! 
 Cecil's colour rose, and her eyelids fell, when
 
 70 LENA, 
 
 she had to follow in the wake of the Honour- 
 able Henrietta. 
 
 Her other grievance was, that Lady Morland 
 furnished her and Laura with the shabbiest, 
 poorest clothes that it was possible a lady's chil- 
 dren could wear. She dressed her own children 
 exactly in the same way : for money was an ob- 
 ject at Thornley ; and, though the Flemings 
 paid half their income for their maintenance 
 and education, she was just as much disposed 
 to save upon their funds as on her own. 
 
 Cecil had an early taste for the becoming in 
 dress : she shuddered at the ugly bonnets and 
 faded gowns they were compelled to put on ; 
 and then she constantly overheard her uncle 
 Morland praising her beauty to his brother, 
 saying : " Upon my word, the girl walks like a 
 reindeer;" or, affecting to rally her on her 
 complexion when they were caught in a shower, 
 call out, " Take care of the rouge and the pearl 
 powder, Cis!" 
 
 Uncle Ned used then to say, drily, that the
 
 OK THE SILENT WOMAN. 71 
 
 child was straight and healthy enough; and 
 Cecil used to drop her eyelids, and think 
 that if she could but dress as she liked, she 
 would soon show uncle Ned whether she was 
 handsome or not. 
 
 She found that her uncle Ned's estimate 
 of the Morland girls was perfectly correct. 
 Louisa had that inferior pride which made 
 her, whenever she was a little out of temper 
 with Cecil, allude to people who had relations 
 in trade — to merchants — as vulgar creatures; to 
 Mr Fleming (when she got more angry and 
 more personal), as the man who lived in the 
 city, and got his living by doing something 
 low. Cecil sometimes retorted about the iron- 
 monger, and sometimes only looked her disdain ; 
 but there grew up in her mind a dislike — not of 
 Lou, for, as other school-girls do, they quar- 
 relled and made it up every day ; but — of Mr 
 Fleming, for being her uncle and exposing her 
 to these taunts. 
 
 For Henrietta, she was as mischievous as her
 
 72 LENA, 
 
 stupid little brain would allow : all her little 
 energies were bent to that delightful end. She 
 was sickly and uncomfortable ; and it seemed a 
 relief to her to pry into everybody's business, 
 and to invent whatever she did not quite see 
 or hear. Every one was constantly getting in- 
 to scrapes from her tattling. She no more 
 dared be left alone with Basil, than she dared 
 have gone into a lion's cage ; for she firmly be- 
 lieved he would kill her : so many tales she had 
 told of him. 
 
 One day the prying Hen brought word 
 into the study that she was sure uncle Ned 
 was come. She had seen a pedlar prowling 
 about the offices, and she had gone half-way 
 down a forbidden staircase to observe which 
 of the maids bought of him ; and, to her great 
 delight, the study maid had come out into the 
 yard, and was cheapening a silk dress ; when 
 out came Ford, uncle Ned's valet, and began 
 to pull about the pedlar's things : and so she 
 was quite sure uncle Ned must be come.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 73 
 
 She was quite right. Presently a message 
 came to Cecil that she was wanted in the 
 drawing-room ; and there she found her uncle 
 and Lady Morland conferring together. 
 
 " Oh, Cis ! my dear, what an entree ! " ex- 
 claimed Lady Morland, as Cecil threw herself 
 without remorse upon her uncle's starched 
 neckerchief. " You really are too old for that 
 sort of thing." 
 
 Cecil coloured crimson. 
 
 " Never mind, Cis," said her uncle, laughing. 
 " How old are you, though ? " 
 
 " Fourteen, uncle." 
 
 " You don't say so ! Time for you to see a 
 little of the world, eh ? " 
 
 " And your dear uncle," said Lady Morland, 
 "is so good as to plan a delightful little ex- 
 cursion for you." 
 
 "Not me, you will understand," said uncle 
 Ned — " another dear uncle, whom you do not 
 yet know: Mr Fleming, Cis, is anxious that 
 you and his daughter should become ac- 
 quainted."
 
 74 LENA, 
 
 Cecil's stately neck drew back, and the long 
 fringes of her eyes shadowed her glowing 
 cheeks : for Lou's clumsy irony flashed into her 
 mind. 
 
 " This visit, my dear, may lead to it 
 
 may be of great advantage to you hereafter," 
 said Lady Morland. " What cannot riches 
 do ? and Mr Fleming is fast becoming one of 
 the richest men of his day." 
 
 Cecil's scornful lip curved disdainfully. Uncle 
 Ned laughed with his ironical expression. 
 
 "You are now in possession of both sides of 
 the question, Cis," he said : " your uncle 
 Fleming's purse, your cousin Lena's regard. 
 Cultivate them both." 
 
 ' A flash from beneath her eyelids was her 
 only reply. 
 
 " Never let us be mercenary, my dear," 
 added Lady Morland: "gold is a great evil. 
 But still there is no occasion to neglect those 
 who may be able to serve us. In a few years, 
 Mr Fleming's society will include the best names 
 in London."
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 75 
 
 " The long and the short of it being, Cis, 
 how soon can you pack up your finery ? " asked 
 uncle Ned, looking at her disdainful face with 
 a satirical smile. 
 
 Now Cecil had absolutely no finery ; and at 
 his question the whole of her shabby wardrobe 
 passed before her mind. 
 
 She replied with her grandest air, that " Sarah 
 could pack her things as soon as her aunt 
 Morland pleased. Was she to set off di- 
 rectly?" 
 
 " Not before to-morrow morning," replied 
 uncle Ned ; "I have two or three little things 
 to arrange with Lady Morland meantime." 
 
 Cecil took the hint, and swam out of the 
 room in high dudgeon. She went up stairs, 
 and there cried over her awkward bonnet and 
 faded gown. 
 
 " She had rather stay at home for ever and 
 ever, than go to the Flemings such a figure ! " 
 she said to Laura, And that horrid little rich 
 Lena sneering at her old clothes ! It was too
 
 76 
 
 scandalous ! She wondered how Lady Mor- 
 land could be so stingy, and how her uncle 
 Ned could bear to see her look such an object ! 
 Laura said it was a shame : but she seldom 
 cared very deeply for other people's misfor- 
 tunes ; and it happened that she and Hen had 
 just obtained some very neat straw bonnets, 
 while Lou and Cecil were affublees with two 
 strange coverings manufactured at home, and 
 composed of a dingy-coloured silk. 
 
 Then Lou was very witty at dinner on mer- 
 cantile subjects : tried to talk of the price of 
 stocks ; jested about figs and raisins — Mr Flem- 
 ing having for many years traded in the Levant ; 
 and wondered who on earth Mrs Fleming was ; 
 until Miss Penley called her to order, and 
 Cecil was on the point of assaulting her cousin. 
 
 Cecil was very sulky with her uncle all the 
 evening. She had an idea, like many foolish 
 children, that she could afflict him by her per- 
 verseness ; and she was mortified that he did 
 not seem to be aware of her treatment, but
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 77 
 
 when she wished him good night, roused him- 
 self out of his low chair, and said, 
 
 "Ah! Cis, where have you hid yourself all 
 the evening ? Good night, child ! " and then 
 fell back again, and went on playing with Fin- 
 ette, Lady Morland's spaniel. 
 
 Mr Edward Morland was very intimate with 
 Mr Fleming, and had also some business con- 
 nexions with him, for he was much engaged 
 in railway speculations : uncle Ned, who had 
 renounced the dice, found it an easy and 
 pleasant compromise to embark in a less ob- 
 jectionable game of hazard. 
 
 He arranged, then, that Cecil should spend a 
 couple of months with the Flemings at the seaside 
 — for they had taken a villa on the coast of 
 Dorsetshire for the summer ; since, without cal- 
 culating so nicely as Lady Morland the bene- 
 fits of the step, he thought it natural and pleas- 
 ing that such near relations should become ac- 
 quainted. 
 
 They were to start early after breakfast.
 
 78 LENA 
 
 Cecil, besides the horrible bonnet, wore a black 
 velvet spencer — with which she and Lou had 
 been gifted from the tail of one of Lady Mor- 
 land's old dress-gowns — and a skirt of silk form- 
 erly lilac. This choice attire was finished by a 
 cheap little shawl, which further exasperated 
 her temper ; and in this frame of mind she 
 was handed by her uncle Ned into the car- 
 
 riage. 
 
 As soon as they were fairly off, her uncle, 
 looking ironically at her, said — 
 
 " So you don't like to go, Cis ?" 
 
 Now Cecil was not ashamed of feeling the 
 dislike, but she was ashamed of saying so ; the 
 colour stole over her face, and she made no 
 reply. 
 
 a Do you recollect your father ?" he said to 
 her after a pause. 
 
 " Not very well, uncle, : I remember his 
 laugh more than anything else. When there 
 was a dinner party, and Laura and I used 
 to sit on the stairs and wait for the butler
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 79 
 
 to bring us sweetmeats, we used always to 
 hear papa laughing more than the other 
 guests." 
 
 " Speak to me of the ties of nature after 
 that !" said uncle Ned, with his sarcastic laugh. 
 " Who would not be a father? as the man says 
 in the play." 
 
 " I can't help it, uncle," returned Cecil, grow- 
 ing very angry : "I was only six when papa 
 went to India." 
 
 " Well, my dear, if you have any wish to 
 refresh your memory, you will shortly have the 
 opportunity ; never were brothers more alike, 
 or more attached, than your father and Mr 
 Fleming." 
 
 There was a little reproach conveyed in the 
 last part of the sentence, that Cecil felt : she 
 coloured still more, and tried to keep the tears 
 from coming to her eyes. 
 
 " I was always partial to your father," said 
 uncle Ned, indifferently, " and I like this man. 
 A very pretty kettle of fish they would have
 
 80 LENA, 
 
 made of it, if they had married your mother 
 where they wished." 
 
 Cecil stamped her foot against the bottom of 
 the carriage. 
 
 "Cold?" asked uncle Ned, carelessly. 
 
 "I'm not cold!" cried Cecil, bursting sud- 
 denly into tears, and as suddenly checking 
 them. " They laugh at Mr Fleming, and they 
 laugh at me for going to see him. You have 
 put me among base people, and I am become 
 base in my turn ! " 
 
 " You are quite right to say what you think," 
 said uncle Ned coolly : " if you go on to do 
 that, you will become a remarkable woman. 
 Now I am going to take you among people who 
 are not base: although, if they teach you your 
 catechism and prayers, and all the rest of it, at 
 Thornley, you ought to think and act for your- 
 self. It is of no use to accuse other people of 
 your own blunders : it is only an idiot who 
 would be guided by other people, thinking 
 them base."
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 81 
 
 " And I suppose you like Lena better than 
 me," said Cecil, on the verge of tears again. 
 
 " No," said uncle Ned gravely, " I like you 
 better, Cis, than any one now living." 
 
 Upon which Cecil threw herself headlong on 
 his neck, and tumbled his cravat again. 
 
 "Well, then, I don't care, uncle: Vapour les 
 Fleming!" she said, brightening into smiles: "but 
 did you ever see anything like my bonnet ? " 
 
 " No, I don't remember that I ever did," said 
 her uncle, surveying it with much attention. 
 
 " Is not it too bad, uncle ?" 
 
 " Why, I suppose it is well enough for the 
 seaside. Lady Morland does not care for 
 dress," said Mr Morland. 
 
 "I do, though," said Cecil : "I don't want 
 that purse-proud little Lena to sneer at me." 
 
 " Oh ! never mind Lena," said her uncle. 
 
 " What is she like, uncle ?" 
 
 " She is an angel, Cis ; but she can't play, 
 and sing, and the rest of it, as you do at 
 Thornley." 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 82 LENA, 
 
 " Of course," said Cecil, drawing up her 
 head, " there must be a difference." 
 
 u Ah ! you have heard a great deal of non- 
 sense talked about them all at Thornley," said 
 her uncle, u which I advise you not to believe." 
 
 " I will believe nothing, uncle, except what 
 you tell me," said Cecil. 
 
 " Why, that will be going a little too far, 
 Cis. I don't make many professions of faith : 
 but here we are at Winchester, and here I am 
 to hand you over to the care of Mr Fleming. 
 But first we will have a look at the cathedral." 
 
 As they were crossing the close, they met Mr 
 Fleming. 
 
 " You here, Fleming !" said Mr Morland ; " I 
 thought we had at least an hour before us." 
 
 " So you have," said Mr Fleming; "I got 
 away from town earlier than I expected. And 
 this is Cecil ? I am delighted to see you at last, 
 my dear ; and I have a little girl waiting your 
 arrival at home, who will be delighted still 
 more."
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 83 
 
 Cecil gave her hand to her uncle with more 
 cordiality than she could have anticipated. 
 There was a familiarity in her uncle Ned's ad- 
 dress that raised Mr Fleming instantly in her 
 esteem ; for she knew he never employed that 
 tone to any one whom he did not consider a gen- 
 tleman. He was a handsome man, in the prime 
 of life, his hair just touched with gray; and there 
 was something that indicated a real kindness 
 of disposition in his cordial manner, and the 
 friendly tone of his voice. But Cecil remarked 
 he had by no means the Morland hand and 
 foot ; and his address wanted the calm supe- 
 riority that made even the cathedral vergers 
 bow with profound humility before her uncle 
 Ned. 
 
 After seeing the cathedral, they went back 
 to the hotel for luncheon ; where Cecil was fed 
 upon raised pie and champagne, and apricot 
 fritters; and where it appeared that if she could 
 have eaten gold, it would have given Mr Flem- 
 ing all the greater pleasure.
 
 84 LENA, OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 
 
 At last a handsome carriage and four drove 
 up to the door, and Mr Fleming, remarking 
 that they had still a long journey before them, 
 took a friendly leave of Mr Morland, made him 
 promise to visit them in Dorsetshire, and then 
 handed Cecil to her place with great respect. 
 
 If Mr Fleming had a weakness, it was an over- 
 weening fondness for the aristocracy; and while 
 heartily disposed to show his niece every kind- 
 ness for her own sake, he felt he could hardly be 
 polite enough to a young lady coming direct 
 from the august precincts of Thornley.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 How fair her forehead is ! and that soft cheek 
 Wherein the bashful blood seems loath to dwell, 
 Lest it should stain such purity ! Her eyes 
 How bright, and yet how full of gentleness ! 
 Fit lamps for such a shrine ! 
 
 Plaxche. 
 
 The days were at their longest, and the sun was 
 just setting, as the carriage reached the top of 
 a hill overlooking a whole panorama of rocks, 
 woods, thickets of juniper, patches of turf, and 
 finally, the range of white cliffs that rose irre- 
 gularly from the bosom of the waves. The pos- 
 tilions dismounted, and led their horses down 
 the rugged way. Although the descent was 
 steep and long, yet the villa stood much above 
 the level of the sea ; having a slope of the short
 
 86 LENA, 
 
 velvet turf peculiar to the coast extending in 
 front of the verandah ; and a rough descent of 
 steps, formed of flat ledges of rock, making a 
 tolerable footway from the house to the beach. 
 
 "They do not expect us till to-morrow," said 
 Mr Fleming, handing Cecil out. " Lena will be 
 wild with joy." 
 
 Lena was sitting on the edge of a table 
 covered with hothouse flowers, which she was 
 clipping and arranging in a jar. She was then 
 twelve years old, fair, with that snowy delicacy 
 of skin seen but once in an age ; yet there was 
 a pink colour on her cheeks and the tips of her 
 delicate fingers. Her light hair was drawn back 
 into a net, which confined it in large silken 
 masses, not shining : it was too soft : it had not 
 that metallic brilliancy often seen in fair hair : 
 it was of the palest straw colour ; her eyebrows 
 much darker; her eyelashes black; her eyes 
 gray, and soft as ground glass, large, round, and 
 fully opened ; her forehead broad, pale, holy ; 
 her features small ; her lips rose leaves. She
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 87 
 
 was slight as a reed ; and as she sat sideways 
 on the table, the foot and ankle hanging down 
 were slender almost to a fault. 
 
 "Lena!" said Mr Fleming. She threw her- 
 self off the table, and hung round his neck, 
 and kissed his face, and hands, and dress, until 
 Cecil felt her eyes moisten. 
 
 She thought of her own father, thrust out of 
 sight beneath the sands of India ; and a strange 
 passion shook her, as if she had never felt his 
 loss — never mourned him before. 
 
 " Your cousin Cecil," said Mr Fleming, tak- 
 ing her hand, when Lena's silent welcome was 
 spent. 
 
 Lena put her hand into Cecil's, looked up at 
 her with a sort of inquiring glance, and then 
 kissed her. It is not easy to say which made 
 the move first. 
 
 " Is mamma up stairs?" asked Mr Fleming. 
 
 Lena bent her head in assent. 
 
 He ran up stairs to find her ; the cousins were 
 left standing together.
 
 88 LENA, 
 
 It must be confessed that Cecil's thoughts 
 turned on her ugly bonnet : she was ashamed 
 that her cousin should see her so disfigured. For 
 Lena was dressed, though plainly, in the fresh- 
 est and most becoming manner : a high, full, 
 pink frock, with a little white collar turned over 
 round the throat ; her fragile thread stockings, 
 bronze kid slippers, and the large Leghorn hat, 
 with its broad, white ribbons, which lay at 
 her feet, giving an air of elegance to her simple 
 toilet. 
 
 "What beautiful flowers!" exclaimed Cecil, 
 looking at the profusion with which the table 
 was covered. 
 
 Lena took up three or four of the finest, put 
 them together, and offered them to Cecil, with 
 the prettiest half-shy manner ; • then, drawing a 
 chair forward, she waved her into it, and seated 
 herself again on the table. 
 
 "Are you fond of flowers?" asked Cecil, who 
 had become curious to hear the sound of her 
 cousin's voice.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 89 
 
 " Very," she replied, half under her breath, 
 offering another rose. 
 
 "My dear Cecil!" exclaimed Mrs Fleming, 
 coming in with outstretched arms, "how glad I 
 am to see you. You must be tired, and I hope 
 you are hungry : but, first, you shall come to 
 your room." As she spoke, she embraced her 
 niece affectionately, and then led Cecil up stairs. 
 Whoever she was, this Mrs Fleming appeared a 
 very elegant woman ; very slender, graceful in 
 her bearing, and with a sweet and intelligent 
 countenance ; but her worn and suffering aspect 
 showed she was a great invalid. 
 
 It was a pretty airy room, looking out on the 
 sea. The windows were open, and the moon 
 was just rising. Cecil was charmed with every- 
 thing. 
 
 " See, you are next to Lena on this side," said 
 Mrs Fleming, opening a door; "my maid, 
 Dixon, sleeps on the other ; but if you don't 
 like to sleep alone, we will have her in here." 
 
 " I am not at all afraid, aunt," said Cecil, 
 " though I slept with Lou at Thornley."
 
 90 LENA 
 
 " Was that your maid, my dear?" 
 
 " Oh, no : Miss Morland," said Cecil, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 "Well, you must tell me which you like," 
 said Mrs Fleming. " Will you bathe ? — shall 
 you enjoy it ? We have no lessons here ; hardly 
 any books : can you live without music ? Oh ! 
 these things are too fine for the seaside ; you 
 must let me treat you as my own little girl 
 while you are with me, and get you a straw hat 
 and a gingham frock : the spray spoils every- 
 thing." 
 
 There was a delicacy in this that touched 
 Cecil, always alive to kindness. It made her 
 blush, in after-life, to think of the weight she- 
 attached to that unwieldy bonnet ; and when it 
 was taken off, and put into a cupboard with a 
 handkerchief over it, she felt a load lifted off 
 her heart, as well as her head. 
 
 And there was a broad-leafed hat, like the 
 one she had been eying down stairs, with its 
 ample white strings hanging over the edge of
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 91 
 
 the shelf; and Mrs Dixon was stooping over 
 her opened trunk, and measuring the skirt of 
 one of her odious frocks ; while a great heap of 
 pink gingham was lying on the table, ready to 
 be cut into dresses for her use. 
 
 Cecil was demonstrative : she threw her arms 
 round her aunt, and thanked her with all her 
 heart ; and if she had a wish ungratified, it was 
 that her uncle Ned might for once see her pro- 
 perly dressed. She did not know that Mr Mor- 
 land had written to entreat that Mrs Fleming 
 would refresh Cecil's straitened wardrobe at 
 his expense, and that Mrs Fleming had replied 
 that she would attend to his wishes in part, but 
 being no arithmetician she hoped she might 
 be allowed to order a few articles for her 
 handsome niece without being called to ac- 
 count 
 
 They found Lena crouched on a footstool at 
 her father's feet, with a concertina resting on 
 her knee, her fingers drawing forth strange 
 accords, almost unconsciously, from time to
 
 92 LENA, 
 
 time. She rose and placed a little wicker chair 
 for her cousin, with a simple politeness of man- 
 ner that never deserted her. 
 
 There was an elegant little supper laid out in 
 the next room. Mr Fleming handed Cecil to 
 the table, and helped her first ; he took wine 
 with her, and hoped she was prepared to put 
 up with very rustic hours and habits. 
 
 There was nothing very rustic in the galan- 
 tine he was dispensing, nor in the large pine 
 that stood in a vase of frosted silver in the cen- 
 tre of the little table. Cecil felt herself a great 
 personage on being appealed to ; and she said 
 graciously, " that the school-room hours at 
 Thornley were very early, and she only hoped 
 that rustic habits included their being constantly 
 out of doors." 
 
 Mrs Fleming assured her that they almost 
 lived on the beach ; and the conversation went 
 on between the three speakers, Lena remaining 
 silent, but fixing her great eyes on Cecil with 
 an inquiring look.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 93 
 
 M I have never seen Lord Morland," said Mr 
 Fleming: "is he like his brother? " 
 
 " Oh no ! uncle Ned is so much slighter," 
 replied Cecil ; " uncle Morland is rather stout, 
 but they are none of them tall. Lou and Hen 
 are so little, you can't think ! So is Aunt Mor- 
 land : uncle Morland says I shall soon be as 
 tall as he is." 
 
 "And you wish to be tall, I dare say?" said 
 Mrs Fleming, smiling. 
 
 Cecil laughed, and blushed. 
 
 " Lord Morland is not much at home, I be- 
 lieve?" said Mr Fleming. 
 
 " No — I wish he was. I ride with him and 
 Basil, and he rows me in his wager-boat when he 
 is at home — and he has given me a spaniel — oh! 
 such a beauty ! — hardly bigger than your hand." 
 
 " And don't your cousins ride and boat with 
 you ? " asked Mrs Fleming. 
 
 " No — Hen is afraid, and Lou has no time: 
 she is learning so many things." 
 
 " And what do you learn ? " asked her uncle
 
 94 LENA, 
 
 " Only music and dancing — I don't draw — 
 and French, and Italian, and geometry, and 
 English composition, and history, and the rest ; 
 but Lou learns to paint in enamel, and she 
 plays three instruments, and learns German, 
 and perspective, and Euclid, besides botany and 
 astronomy." 
 
 " And her sister ? " inquired Mrs Fleming. 
 
 " Oh ! they can't get her on at all: Hen has 
 no talents. Laura beats her in everything; and 
 yet she hates learning, too." 
 
 " What shall we say to little Lena ? " said 
 Mr Fleming, kindly laying his hand on her head, 
 " who does not even know French." 
 
 Lena drew down her father's hand, and held 
 it between hers. 
 
 Mrs Fleming interposed quickly, "There's 
 plenty of time, my dear Ernest ; we will not 
 hurry her. 
 
 "No — no, she shall not be hurried," said Mr 
 Fleming. "And the young ladies — are they 
 pretty ? "
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 95 
 
 "Not at all — at least, if you take what uncle 
 Ned says. Lou thinks herself like uncle Mor- 
 land ; but she 's not, for he is very handsome." 
 
 " He is a very fine rider I have heard," said 
 Mr Fleming. 
 
 "Oh, very! — he has the lightest hand: he 
 can ride a horse that has lamed two grooms — 
 a perfect fury of a barb — he 's like a lamb with 
 uncle Morland." 
 
 "Which do you like the best of your two 
 uncles ? " asked Mrs Fleming. 
 
 " Oh! uncle Ned!" exclaimed Cecil, eagerly; 
 "but I like uncle Morland very much : the house 
 is not the same when he is away." 
 
 " Now, for those young ladies who have tra- 
 velled a hundred miles since breakfast," said 
 Mrs Fleming, " I recommend a long night's rest. 
 Lena, dearest, ring for Dixon." 
 
 Mrs Fleming lit Cecil's taper. Lena having 
 embraced her father and mother, followed her 
 cousin silently, step by step, her concertina 
 under her arm. Dixon halted at the stair-head,
 
 96 LENA, 
 
 and pulling Lena from Cecil, who had stooped 
 to kiss her, said, tartly— 
 
 " Now, Miss Lena, I shall do Miss Flemings 
 hair first ; so you mind and adone with your 
 reading by that time, and lay out your combs 
 and brushes." 
 
 "Oh ! leave the door open, Lena," said Cecil ; 
 "and read aloud, please : I should so like it." 
 
 Mrs Dixon having unplaited the rich profu- 
 sion of Cecil's hair, was now brushing vehe- 
 mently. Lena came into the doorway, all filled 
 with the moonlight, with a heavy velvet book 
 in her hand, and in a voice, " much above 
 singing," began to read the Psalms for the 
 evening. Cecil was astonished. It had not 
 been the way at Thornley to read a line of the 
 Bible that could be avoided. But she thought 
 it very beautiful, so read ; and by the time it 
 was finished her head was on her pillow, and 
 Lena's figure had melted from its frame : the 
 subdued murmur of the waves, ' now at low 
 tide, had replaced her musical tones ; and the
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 97 
 
 slow heaving of the distant boats, as they swayed 
 in the moonlight to and fro before her window, 
 seemed to keep time to a strange soft melody, 
 that filled the air around her, and drew her 
 gently to sleep. Her cousin, Lena, was playing 
 her accordion. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Gone down the tide ; 
 And the long moonbeam on the hard wet sand 
 Lay" like a jasper column half uprear'd. 
 
 Landok. 
 
 Ceokl. — He 's humble to the poor to spite the rich ; 
 Give me the man that 's humble to his peers. 
 
 Taylor. 
 
 No girls could look prettier than the two cou- 
 sins when dressed for the beach the next morn- 
 ing; with their fresh pink frocks, their broad 
 hats and fluttering ribbons, their fine thread 
 stockings and slender boots of gray contil, their 
 dark kid gloves, made like gauntlets to button 
 over the sleeves — so careful was Mrs Fleming 
 lest their wrists should be touched with the sun
 
 LENA, OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 99 
 
 — and their black silk pelerines a T enfant. 
 Lena always looked like an angel, or like the 
 Virgin Mary; and she spoke so seldom, that 
 you might suppose she was pondering some 
 deep secret in her heart. 
 
 Cecil looked like a H'ebe, all grace and ani- 
 mation, with the golden light glancing in her 
 rippled hair, and her blue eyes full of laughter 
 and enjoyment as she greeted her uncle and 
 aunt. 
 
 " We don't look much the worse for our 
 journey, I think," said Mr Fleming, in a tone 
 that pretty plainly bespoke his admiration. 
 
 " Oh ! no uncle — I slept so well," said Cecil; 
 " and after breakfast we are going to find shells 
 on the sands." 
 
 There were three ranges of rocks below the 
 house. The first was a broad low extent of ir- 
 regular stones, covered with fine green seaweed 
 like grass. The second stood at low tide some 
 twelve or fifteen feet above the sand, in every 
 strange variety of shape; and beyond these
 
 100 LENA, 
 
 there came a lower range, some six or eight feet 
 high, still more fantastic in their form, from 
 which the waves never quite receded, but kept 
 bubbling and gurgling among their hollows, 
 with a low regular music of their own. 
 
 It was Lena's delight to get to these rocks : per- 
 haps she had a vague hope of seeing a mermaid 
 lurking between their clefts. There grew plenty 
 of that long ribbon-like seaweed which children 
 love to gather ; and sometimes in the sand, or 
 in a hollow, might be found those small shells 
 of the Trochus kind, sheening with opal tints ; 
 or perhaps a rare Volute, or those delicate pink 
 Tellinae, which nearly matched Lena's trans- 
 parent colour. She would spend hours hover- 
 ing about these rocks, her mind filled with in- 
 distinct shadows : nothing would have surprised 
 her — no fairies or sea-nymphs would have 
 seemed out of place in those strange abodes. 
 There was a charm in their very gloom, in the 
 dripping seaweed that flapped overhead, in the 
 dark hollows filled with water left by the tide.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 101 
 
 There was a sense almost of danger, that was 
 pleasant too ; for when the tide began to re- 
 turn, it rushed impetuously over the farthest 
 rocks, and covered them in a feAV moments, 
 rendering the sands between the ridges soft and 
 impassable. In the language of the country 
 people, a person left on the rocks at such a time 
 was said to be " flown in ;" and it was no easy 
 matter to get to the shore. 
 
 "While Lena searched for shells, Cecil amused 
 herself much more to her taste with the live 
 stock : she touched the radiant arms of the 
 sea anemones, and with eager delight watched 
 them shrink into a glutinous ball ; she dislodged 
 the crabs from their holes, tried to make them 
 run, splashed the starfish back into the water, 
 and diverted herself with their odd movements. 
 She could hardly believe the footman when he 
 came down to tell them that dinner was ready. 
 
 " This shall be our favourite place; we will 
 come here every day," said Cecil. 
 
 Lena gave her usual little nod of acquies- 
 cence.
 
 102 LENA, 
 
 The Flemings' villa stood about the centre of 
 the bay ; on the extreme right a small cluster 
 of houses, and a good hotel, gave the spot some- 
 thing the character of a watering-place. The 
 road to this village passed below the villa, and 
 all the visiters were pretty sure to take that 
 way, whether bound to the beach, or upwards 
 across the hills to the market town of D . 
 
 The Flemings speculated on those they knew 
 by sight, with that kind of light curiosity with 
 which one regards one's neighbours at a water- 
 ing place. If they cared to ask, the doctor 
 could always give them farther information. He 
 was a little ugly man, kind and clever, and a 
 
 great friend of Lena, whom he admired very 
 
 » 
 
 much : he used to call her " The White Lady 
 of Avenel." 
 
 " I wish, doctor, you could tell me the name 
 of that gentleman ; he has been here two or 
 three days," said Mrs Fleming, one morning 
 when they were all assembled in the verandah ; 
 Lena, on her knees, spreading her seaweed to
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 103 
 
 dry, Cecil just within the window writing to 
 her uncle Ned. 
 
 " Ah ! Sir Tressel Rothmond !" said the doc- 
 tor, taking up his glass. " Ay, ay, he 's worth 
 inquiring about: a very grand personage — in 
 his own estimation, at any rate." 
 
 " He 's sick, I imagine, from his always lean- 
 ing on his son," said Mr Fleming. 
 
 " Ay ; and I wish he was well with all my 
 heart," said the doctor, shortly. 
 
 " Come and look at the baronet, Cecil," said 
 Mr Fleming, " and tell me if you don't think 
 him a very aristocratic-looking person." 
 
 Cecil folded her letter hastily, and came into 
 the verandah. 
 
 The baronet and his son were just descend- 
 ing the ledges of rock in front of the house, 
 so that she had every facility for forming her 
 opinion. 
 
 Sir Tressel was very handsome, with pride 
 stamped on every feature ; his hair was quite 
 gray, and he wore it all round his face like a
 
 104 LENA, 
 
 beard, only kept short ; but his eyes and brows 
 were black as night, so that he did not appear 
 much older than he really was. He was lean- 
 ing on the shoulder of his son, a boy about 
 fifteen, who had the regular and Norman fea- 
 tures of his father ; but an extreme gentleness of 
 demeanour that contrasted pleasantly with the 
 haughty bearing of Sir Tressel. The youth had 
 a dark complexion, of that peculiar depth and 
 softness that Murillo alone knew how to paint ; 
 eyes like velvet, and teeth that glittered when 
 he spoke. 
 
 Sir Tressel stopped a moment on the steps, 
 and, turning to the servant who followed him, 
 said, harshly — 
 
 " I don't want you. Go and see if there 
 are any letters at D ." 
 
 " And, Edmonds," said the boy, in a voice 
 of remarkable sweetness, "ask if they have 
 heard anything of my rifle. I can't imagine 
 what has delayed it." 
 
 They passed on. Cecil gave them another
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 105 
 
 glance through her eyelashes, and then said, 
 indifferently, " Yes, he 's a gentlemanly person, 
 but quite the country gentleman : not at all 
 the air of uncle Ned ! " 
 
 " No, certainly," said Mr Fleming, who con- 
 templated with much satisfaction the letter 
 lying on his table directed to " The Honour- 
 able Edward Morland, Albany." 
 
 The doctor threw himself back, and laughed 
 heartily. 
 
 " I dare say he is a great man in his own 
 country, which is "Worcestershire," said he. " He 
 is come to recruit here after a malignant fever, 
 which he caught going to see an Irish hay- 
 maker on his estate, who had it." 
 
 " How very kind ! " said Lena, looking up 
 from her seaweed for the first time. 
 
 " Yes, these proud men will be civil enough 
 to a haymaker," said the doctor ; " and my 
 young gentleman, who was at Eton at the 
 time, happening to see his father's illness men- 
 tioned in the paper, set off, walking right away
 
 106 LENA, 
 
 into Worcestershire ; got on the first stage- 
 coach he met with, and never rested till he 
 found himself by his father's bedside. Look at 
 the White Lady ! she 's going to take flight 
 altogether, I think ! " 
 
 Lena, who had raised herself at every word 
 more and more, knelt with her hands clasped and 
 her lips apart ; she coloured at the doctor's no- 
 tice, and sank down again among her seaweeds. 
 
 " So the authorities expelled my young friend 
 for his unceremonious exit," said the doctor; 
 11 and the proud old devil, instead of explain- 
 ing matters, took them at their first word, 
 and means to finish his son's education at 
 home." 
 
 " He is a very handsome boy," said Mrs 
 Fleming. 
 
 " A civil spoken young gentleman enough," 
 said the doctor; "he follows me every day 
 out of the room to ask me on the stairs what 
 I think of his father. If I were to tell him 
 candidly, he would be rather surprised."
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 107 
 
 " I see that Sir Tressel Rothmond married a 
 daughter of the Duke of Axminster," said Mr 
 Fleming, who had taken down the Baronetage. 
 
 " Lady Maria Dawbeney : yes, she died at 
 Paris, some seven or eight years ago, in the 
 time of the cholera. They never agreed," 
 said the doctor. 
 
 " I was wondering why he had not rather 
 gone to the Duke of Axminster's seat," said 
 Mr Fleming : "it is not above six miles off." 
 
 " They don't speak," said the doctor : " the 
 duke has a knack of quarrelling with his rela- 
 tions." 
 
 " He is on very good terms with. Lord John," 
 said Cecil ; "he has just bought him a very fine 
 estate, not far from Thornley." 
 
 " Do you know them ? " asked Mr Fleming. 
 
 " I used to know them, when poor mamma 
 was alive," said Cecil ; " and Basil knows 
 the young Dawbeneys : " but I don't think aunt 
 Morland and Lady John see much of each 
 other."
 
 108 
 
 Mr Fleming looked at Lena crouched uncon- 
 sciously among her shells, and began to turn 
 over the Peerage. 
 
 Cecil had until now seen nothing of domestic 
 happiness: of people whose tastes accorded; and, 
 however respectable domestic life may be, it 
 can hardly be happy without sympathy. 
 
 She very soon fathomed the extent of Lena's 
 accomplishments : they were limited enough. 
 Miss Penley would have despaired of her. But 
 there grew in her mind daily a respect for her 
 silent little cousin : she felt, as the doctor 
 said, there was a great deal in the child. 
 
 The total absence of effort and display that 
 marked her bringing up, surprised Cecil, know- 
 ing her to be so rich an heiress. 
 
 " I don't care at all whether Lena plays or 
 not," she heard her uncle say to the doctor j 
 " but I own I should be sorry if she did not feel 
 Mozart and Beethoven." 
 
 It was the same with drawing. 
 
 " The mere acquirement is an accident," he
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 109 
 
 would say. " She will never be a Vandyke or a 
 Thorburn ; but I should like her to know why 
 Vandykes and Thorburns are historical trea- 
 sures." 
 
 It was this that gave such a charm to Lena's 
 intellect. Her acquirements were nothing re- 
 markable ; but she stood almost alone, for her 
 age, in her perceptions. 
 
 One evening the doctor stept in, and found 
 Mr Fleming reading out the translation of the 
 " First Alcibiades" to his daughter. He could 
 not help watching Lena's eagerness in following 
 that exquisite chain of reasoning, — the perfect 
 acquiescence with which she hailed, by a little 
 nod of the head, what he called " a clencher :" 
 as when Socrates posed Alcibiades by means of 
 his own admissions. 
 
 " On my word, we are gone back to the days 
 of Roger Ascham and Jane Grey," he said. 
 " Plato's Divine Dialogues ! The child is not 
 unlike the Lady Jane, with her fair hair." 
 
 " I don't want her to read Plato," said Mr
 
 110 LENA, 
 
 Fleming ; " but when anything beautiful comes 
 in her way, I like to see it interest her." 
 
 " I think Socrates was the earliest martyr on 
 record," said the doctor. 
 
 " Oh ! my dear doctor, — why, he was not a 
 Christian," said Mrs Fleming. 
 
 "Well, but what is a martyr?" asked Mr 
 Fleming. 
 
 " A person who dies in a good cause," said 
 the doctor. 
 
 " I think," said Lena's little musical subdued 
 voice, "it is a person who has a choice about 
 dying." 
 
 " Let us hear what the White Lady has to say 
 about it," said the doctor. 
 
 " If a person dies in a good cause, who can't 
 help it, I think we pity him very much," said 
 Lena ; "but I think a person is a martyr who 
 has the offer to live in a wrong belief, but 
 who chooses to die rather than give up his 
 faith." 
 
 " I believe the child is right," said the doc-
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. Ill 
 
 tor : " the death must be voluntary ; which 
 Socrates' was not." 
 
 " Nor that of King Charles ; though the 
 Prayer Book has so registered him/' said Mr 
 Fleming. 
 
 " The White Lady may not know French," 
 said the doctor, rising to take his leave ; " but I 
 congratulate her on knowing what is much 
 more rare — her own language." 
 
 It was somewhat late that evening ; they 
 had all been standing in the verandah, looking 
 at the moon, and as they were returning to the 
 drawing-room, Cecil missed Lena. She stept 
 back after her, and found her leaning against 
 the little wall that bordered their grass plot, 
 signing with her hand towards the sea, as if 
 she was saluting some one very earnestly. 
 
 " Oh ! here you are, dear," said Cecil, joining 
 her : " we are just going in to supper." 
 
 Lena made a little gesture of assent. 
 
 " To whom did you beckon just now?" asked 
 Cecil, glancing her eye over the bright sands
 
 112 
 
 and the shallow waves rippling back towards 
 the rocks. 
 
 " My brothers," she whispered. 
 
 " Who are your brothers ?" asked Cecil. 
 
 " All men," replied Lena, absently. 
 
 "Not the fishermen ?" said Cecil. 
 
 " Yes, — all," said Lena. 
 
 " You should not kiss your hand to the 
 fishermen," said Cecil. 
 
 "I didn't," replied Lena. 
 
 Cecil was puzzled. 
 
 " You have no brothers ?" she resumed. 
 
 " They are dead," murmured Lena. 
 
 Cecil felt her heart stand still. 
 
 " Did you think you saw them ?" she asked, 
 shivering as she spoke. 
 
 " No," said Lena, " but when I am thinking 
 of them, and the moon shines so brightly, I 
 fancy that — I — the light seems to — " she 
 could not explain her meaning, and she 
 stopped. 
 
 " Is it long since ?" asked Cecil.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 113 
 
 " Two years ago : they died together, in 
 Cyprus," said Lena. 
 
 " Both at one time ?" exclaimed Cecil. 
 
 " Yes, of the Syrian fever. And since then 
 my head has been weak : I learn no lessons." 
 
 Cecil's arm stole round her cousin. 
 
 " Poor little Lena !" she exclaimed. 
 
 " It will be a long time before I see them," 
 said Lena : — " a few years seem long." 
 
 She drew a deep breath, but she did not cry ; 
 Cecil's tears were falling fast. 
 
 " Now mamma is coming, and we must say 
 nothing," said Lena, pressing her cousin's hand ; 
 " because, as papa says, it is worse for her than 
 for me." 
 
 Mrs Fleming came to call them in to supper. 
 No wonder her eyes rested so wistfully on the 
 fragile little creature who remained to her ; no 
 wonder she guarded her so carefully from every 
 exertion. 
 
 "We won't read any more to-night, papa," 
 she said, as Mr Fleming took up his book 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 114 LENA, OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 
 
 after supper. "I think my Lena looks a little 
 weary. " 
 
 " My Lena shall go to bed then," said Mr 
 Fleming, starting up with his joyous laugh, 
 and lighting a taper ; " and when she gets a 
 colour like her cousin Cecil, then we'll read 
 as if we were going to take our degree, — won't 
 we, Lena ? "
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 While yet she saw the land and sunlit sky, 
 And teeming sea, that sparkled with his ray, 
 She still, perchance, her mother might descry. 
 
 The mountain tops, and the deep ocean bed, 
 
 Echoed her cries : her mother heard : dismay — 
 
 Keen anguish struck her heart. 
 
 Homer's Hymns. 
 
 " After all, I 'm growing a little tired of these 
 rocks," said Cecil, pausing, with her basket full 
 of seaweed, and pushing back her hat. " Sup- 
 pose we walk to the point yonder ? " 
 
 " Shall we ask leave?" said Lena. 
 
 " Oh, no ; aunt Fleming knows you are safe 
 with me," replied Cecil. 
 
 They had often talked of going beyond the 
 projecting rock that formed the boundary of 
 their little world. It ran out far into the sea,
 
 116 LENA, 
 
 and it was only in summer that the tide receded 
 far enough to leave a sure pathway round the 
 base, composed of rough fragments that had 
 fallen from the cliff. 
 
 The children slipped and scrambled from rock 
 to rock, in high glee, until they turned the pro- 
 montory, as they ambitiously called it. The 
 scene was rough and grand beyond description. 
 The coast receded until nothing but sea stretched 
 before the eye on that side, and instead of the 
 verdure that marked the downs behind the vil- 
 lage, rugged cliffs of many tints were hurled 
 upon each other. Deep ravines between these 
 rocks extended farther inland, and in some 
 places a silver thread, trickling from rock to 
 rock, marked the course of a mountain stream 
 towards the sea. 
 
 In one of those ravines, raised a good way 
 above the level of the beach, they observed 
 a cottage, built something in the fashion of 
 a Swiss chalet, with a verandah running round 
 the upper story, sheltered by the projecting
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 117 
 
 roof, and accessible by steps from without. 
 Down below on the beach, just under the cot- 
 tage, was one of those black sheds used by 
 fishermen to keep their nets and rigging ; and 
 close by, a pretty craft, something larger than 
 a fishing-boat, apparently not quite finished. 
 
 This cottage was surrounded with a garden 
 of tolerable size, fenced with a low paling, and 
 filled with a profusion of flowers of the gayest 
 colours. An old woman, in a singular costume, 
 wearing a black silk hood, from beneath which 
 gleamed a pair of brilliant eyes, and large cir- 
 cular gold ear-rings, was gathering some vege- 
 tables into a basket. Lena, who loved flowers, 
 drew her cousin nearer and nearer to the rustic 
 enclosure. 
 
 " There 's a white fuschia, Cecil," said Lena; 
 " I wish you would ask the old woman if it be- 
 longs to her." 
 
 " She 's a foreigner," said Cecil. " I wonder 
 whether French would do." 
 
 " Stay, here is a man coming ; he looks like 
 a pirate," said Lena, shrinking close to Cecil.
 
 118 LENA, 
 
 " I never saw a pirate," returned Cecil, laugh- 
 ing : " where is he ? " 
 
 " Coming down the rocks," said Lena. " I 
 once saw a whole crew, who had been taken 
 prisoners, brought to Cyprus." 
 
 " Oh ! this is amusing," said Cecil, pulling 
 Lena down beside her on a fragment of rock. 
 " Let us see what he will have to say to the old 
 
 woman." 
 
 "Hemightcarry us away, you know, "said Lena. 
 
 "What for?" asked Cecil. 
 
 " For ransom," replied Lena. 
 
 "Why, there are two of us," said Cecil. 
 
 Lena looked uncertain as to their power of 
 making battle against the pirate; who was a tall, 
 resolute-looking man, with a good deal of dark 
 hair about his face, and an eye that took in sea 
 and sky with that rapid glance peculiar to sea- 
 faring people. 
 
 He came into the garden by a side-gate, and 
 touched the old woman on the shoulder; she 
 started, made the sign of the cross, and then 
 embraced him.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 119 
 
 " She 's a Corsican," said Lena. 
 
 " How do you know ?" asked Cecil. 
 
 " Because she made the cross with her thumb 
 — so," replied Lena, imitating the action. 
 
 The man, who was dressed like a foreign 
 sailor, in a coarse blue dress — except that he 
 wore a broad felt hat and dark gauntlets, such 
 as some gentlemen wear when they prune trees — 
 took a large knife from a sheath in his belt, and 
 began to cut some of the shrubs, talking and 
 laughing to the old woman meantime. 
 
 " He speaks pure Italian," said Lena. " Who 
 can they be ? " 
 
 "Do you know Italian?" asked Cecil. 
 
 " I picked up a little Venetian at Cyprus, be- 
 cause we had a Venetian servant," said Lena ; 
 " but I have never learned any." 
 
 "What are they saying?" asked Cecil. 
 
 " He asks how she got on while he was away, 
 and whether she was disturbed by any of the 
 English heretics." 
 
 " She says to him — ' My son' — oh ! you see,
 
 120 LENA, 
 
 the sailor is the old woman's son — 1 1 have re- 
 mained tranquil, except that the heretic baker 
 did not bring my loaves yesterday.' And, see 
 how the sailor is laughing. Now he is looking 
 at us." 
 
 The sailor had come to the gate, and was lean- 
 ing upon it, looking hard at the children seated 
 together on the rock. 
 
 "Giovanna!" he said, "come and look at 
 these beautiful children." 
 
 " Holy Virgin !" replied the old woman, com- 
 ing beside him, " they are two real angels of 
 God." 
 
 " Which do you like the best ? " asked the 
 sailor. 
 
 " The little one, with her serious eyes," said 
 the old woman : " she is a true copy of the Holy 
 Virgin." 
 
 " Well, the other one is good enough for a 
 sinner like me ; but they are both beautiful," 
 said the sailor. 
 
 Lena then got up quietly, and, advancing to
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 121 
 
 the gate, said, in all simplicity, to the man, in 
 Italian, "Is that your house, sailor?" 
 
 " It is, little lady," he replied. 
 
 " Did you make it?" she asked. 
 
 "I mended it, little lady," he said : " it was 
 a worse hut than this when I came to it." 
 
 "And these flowers are yours?" 
 
 " They are yours, if you fancy them," said 
 the sailor, throwing open the gate courteously. 
 
 "And you are not a pirate?" she continued. 
 
 "Not the least in the world, little lady," he 
 said, with a joyous burst of laughter. 
 
 "A pirate! Holy Mother!" exclaimed the old 
 woman, clasping her hands. 
 
 " I dare say I look very rough," he said, 
 speaking in English ; " but I am English: and 
 so are you, I suppose, in spite of your pretty 
 little Venetian lisp. If I don't frighten you, 
 come in, and gather what you like." 
 
 " I thank you, sailor, I may not come in," 
 said Lena; " but will you be so kind as to tell 
 me where you got that white fuschia? "
 
 122 LENA, 
 
 " This ?" — lie asked, gathering it, and giving 
 it to her — " this came from Falmouth, where I 
 landed." 
 
 "And that orange briar?" said Lena. 
 
 " I brought that from Genoa," said the sailor, 
 looking steadily at the tree : " strange it should 
 have lived." 
 
 " The City of the Plague," murmured the old 
 woman, who had caught the name. 
 
 " To us, Giovanna," said the man, breaking 
 off two or three of the flowers, which he handed 
 to Lena over the paling. 
 
 " Come, Lena," whispered Cecil, drawing her 
 back. 
 
 " Thank you very much. Good bye, sailor," 
 said Lena with her pretty little, simple manner. 
 
 "Goodbye, little lady," he returned; then, 
 just as they were moving away, he happened to 
 catch Cecil's eye ; and, as if thinking her older 
 than Lena, he suddenly took off his hat to her, 
 uncovering a broad forehead, fringed with short, 
 dark hair, like the heads of Elizabeth's time.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 123 
 
 Cecil's blushes were as ready as her smiles or 
 tears; her face was suffused directly, as she 
 bowed, and hastened with Lena down the 
 bank. 
 
 " I think, Lena, we should not stop and talk 
 to strangers," said Cecil, when they had turned 
 the point and were out of sight of the chalet. 
 
 Lena, who was stumbling along, all her 
 thoughts absorbed by her flowers, looked up 
 surprised, and exclaimed — " Dear me, Cecil, he 
 is only a sailor, you know." 
 
 u He may be a sailor, but he is a gentleman," 
 replied Cecil. 
 
 " Dear me !" said Lena ; and she looked quite 
 incredulously into her cousin's face : " not what 
 one calls a gentleman — not a rich man ?" 
 
 " He 's much more a gentleman than your 
 fine baronet yonder," said Cecil warmly. 
 
 " Oh!" said Lena, contentedly, " then I 
 need not mind taking his flowers, you know." 
 
 When they came in, they found Mr and Mrs 
 Fleming examining the contents of a box of 
 books just arrived from London.
 
 124 LENA, 
 
 Mrs Fleming had just that love of literature 
 which made her enter into whatever was going 
 forward ; she said she never read, but she was 
 always dipping into books. Mr Fleming trusted 
 her taste implicitly; and whenever she said, 
 " I think, Ernest, you would like such a work," 
 he never failed to read it, and like it too. 
 
 Lena was soon seated at her father's feet, cut- 
 ting the leaves of a review — a task that always 
 fell to her share — her blond head stooped, and 
 her little fingers rustling among the pages, 
 as silent as ever. Mrs Fleming, lying on the 
 sofa, was glancing through a volume of travels. 
 Cecil picked up the flowers which Lena had let 
 fall, and put them in a vase. 
 
 "What fine briar roses !" said Mrs Fleming. 
 
 "Oh, we had an adventure! Tell papa, please," 
 said Lena, looking up to Cecil. 
 
 " No, let my little Lena speak, for once," in- 
 terposed Mr Fleming, stroking her hair. 
 
 Lena gave a preparatory sigh, and then re- 
 lated their discovery of the chalet, and their 
 interview with the sailor.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 125 
 
 "And Cecil says he is a gentleman," said Mr 
 Fleming. " Very curious : I '11 ask the doctor 
 who he can be." 
 
 But the doctor did not know : he merely sup- 
 posed the fellow had never been sick, as he had 
 heard nothing of him. 
 
 Every now and then Mr Fleming was obliged 
 to go to London for a few clays ; and his ab- 
 sence was very much felt by the whole party, 
 though it in no way altered their habits. 
 Every afternoon the carriage came from the 
 hotel, and took them a drive into the country ; 
 sometimes, but seldom in Mr Fleming's absence, 
 the ladies went out on donkeys to explore the 
 rocks, and took their dinner to the bank of 
 some mountain-stream. Then it was uncertain 
 at what hour they would return ; and perhaps 
 they might stop on their way at some farm- 
 house and make a homely meal on eggs and 
 cream cheese and brown bread. 
 
 Nothing charmed Cecil more than these irregu- 
 lar hours, so great a contrast to the monotony of
 
 126 LENA, 
 
 Thornley. Every little incident delighted her : 
 if her donkey ran away with her, or she slipped 
 into a brook, or if she got half-way up a rock 
 and could not get down, her spirits never failed 
 her : she drew enjoyment from everything. 
 Lena enjoyed herself in a quieter manner, with 
 her large religious eyes drinking in every beau- 
 tiful point of scenery, and her voice always 
 subdued to a whisper, as if her admiration be- 
 came almost an act of devotion. 
 
 Cecil used sometimes to watch her kneeling 
 at her window-sill at night, reading the Bible 
 by the light of the moon ; she had never seen 
 any one before whose feelings were religious. 
 Her aunt Morland went to church twice a-day, 
 and would gladly have gone four times if the 
 clergyman would have performed as often ; 
 Catechisms and Collects were in request every 
 Sunday ; and she had a set of devout phrases 
 that Cecil knew as well as she knew the French 
 grammar : but it gave her a new sense when 
 she saw Lena sink slowly on her knees, the first
 
 OK THE SILENT WOMAN. 127 
 
 Sunday she went to church with the Flemings, 
 her whole being absorbed by the devotion of 
 the hour. 
 
 One very hot day that Mr Fleming was in 
 town, Mrs Fleming ordered the carriage to come 
 after their early tea to take them a long drive 
 into the country, that they might see a ruined 
 chapel by moonlight, which stood in a part of 
 the Duke of Axminster's domain. Lena hap- 
 pened to want some pink seaweed, and pro- 
 posed going down to the rocks in search of it ; 
 but Cecil had tired herself in the morning, 
 and her aunt advised her to remain in the ver- 
 andah and keep herself cool for her drive. 
 
 Cecil, who was never obstinate about trifles, 
 complied directly, and took up a book to read 
 to her aunt, while Lena tripped down to the 
 rocks by herself. 
 
 It was an interesting work, and they were 
 quite absorbed by it, when Cecil heard the fa- 
 miliar sound of the tide turning — the first rush 
 among the rocks.
 
 128 LENA, 
 
 " I think, aunt, the tide is coming in — I will 
 go and look for Lena," she said. 
 
 " Do, my love," said Mrs Fleming ; and she 
 took the book and went on reading. 
 
 Cecil ran down the grassy slope, and when 
 she reached the steps leading to the shingles, 
 she saw Lena standing on the second ridge of 
 rocks, her hands uplifted, and gazing down 
 with a look of terror at the waves, which had 
 surrounded the shelf on which she stood ; and, 
 although not half a yard deep, rendered the 
 sand (as they had often been warned) unsafe 
 for the foot. 
 
 Cecil rushed towards her, ploughing her way 
 across the shingles, with the effort of one who 
 runs in a dream. 
 
 "Lena! Lena! I'm coming! don't be 
 frightened ! " cried Cecil, struggling on over the 
 heavy beach. 
 
 All at once something bounded past her — a 
 large Newfoundland dog — followed by a boy 
 with a rifle under his arm.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 129 
 
 He soon outstripped Cecil, and sprang from 
 one rock to another, until lie reached, knee- 
 deep in water, a flat stone that stood midway 
 between the two ridges. Lena was on a rock 
 just above him, her hands clasped together ; 
 she never screamed, and she uttered no sound, 
 but her terror was extreme ; at her feet floated 
 the little straw basket that she had been filling 
 so intently as not to mark the turn of the tide. 
 
 The boy stretched out his hand to her. 
 " Don't be afraid," he cried. " Spring across 
 boldly ; 1 11 take care of you : the sea is com- 
 ing in so fast that you have no time to 
 lose." 
 
 Lena threw herself from the rock in such 
 mortal terror, that she fell down at the base, 
 quite into the water. 
 
 Cecil thought Lena was sinking out of sight, 
 and, careless of waves or quicksands, she dashed 
 on to help her cousin, when she was held back 
 by a powerful arm ; and, turning round, she 
 saw the sailor of the chalet. 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 130 LENA, 
 
 " No need for both of you to drown, Signor- 
 ina," he said : " but it 's all right with the child. 
 Stay where you are, and I '11 lend them a hand." 
 
 He strode forward into the water, picked up 
 the little basket and handed it to Cecil; and 
 seeing that the boy who had lifted Lena from 
 the water had much ado to support her, he 
 took her up in his arms, asked where she lived, 
 told the young gentleman to look to Cecil, and 
 walked quickly up the beach, followed by Cecil; 
 to whom the young Rothmond had politely 
 offered his arm. 
 
 But, when they entered the enclosure, a 
 new scene awaited them : poor Mrs Fleming 
 lying senseless in the arms of Dixon, just where 
 she had fallen while trying to run to the assis- 
 tance of her child. And there was Lena with 
 the water dropping from her clothes, the sailor 
 wet to the knees, the boy still more drenched, 
 the great dog sprinkling the whole party every 
 time he shook his rough coat, and Cecil trem- 
 bling so that she could hardly support herself.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 131 
 
 " Oh ! Miss -Lena ! " cried Dixon, who was 
 kneeling on the grass supporting Mrs Fleming's 
 head on her arm ; " look here, and see what 
 you Ve been and done ! " 
 
 " Done ! Corpo di Bacco ! " exclaimed the 
 sailor, in a tone that made Cecil start, setting 
 down Lena just in front of Dixon as he spoke. 
 " The child is half-drowned ! Get her something 
 hot, and give her dry clothes." 
 
 Lena turned her piteous eyes on her mother, 
 and began to cry bitterly. 
 
 " Oh ! sailor, what shall I do with mamma !" 
 she said. 
 
 The sailor lifted Mrs Fleming on a sofa, and 
 looked about, as if not knowing what to do. 
 
 " You come with me this moment, Miss 
 Lena," said Dixon, plucking her from her mo- 
 ther's pillow — " only to see the mess you 're in ! 
 Good gracious ! " 
 
 " Let her stay, Dixon," said Cecil, bursting 
 into tears ; for the sight recalled her own 
 mother's deathbed. " Oh ! I wish the doctor 
 was here !"
 
 132 
 
 " Sliall I run for him ?" asked the boy, look- 
 ing very wretched, as some men do when wo- 
 men cry : for Dixon, catching the infection, was 
 beginning to sniff. 
 
 " Oh ! bless you, Miss Fleming, I sent for 
 the doctor the first thing," said Dixon. 
 
 " And here he comes, I do believe," said the 
 boy. 
 
 " Then we may as well be off," said the sailor. 
 " Keep up your heart, little lady; your mother 
 is coming round : and here is the doctor." 
 
 And bowing to the girls, with a sort of care- 
 less dignity, he walked to the door. 
 
 " I thank you very much," said Cecil; " and 
 so would Lena if she could speak." 
 
 Mrs Fleming was recovering ; and finding 
 Lena's eager face bent over her, she recovered 
 all the faster. There were nothing but kisses 
 and tears for some time; of which Cecil came 
 in for her share. Meantime the doctor, who 
 had entered without saying anything, had been 
 giving his directions ; he rather reminded 
 Cecil of her uncle Ned, by his dry manner of
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. lo3 
 
 placing a glass of hot wine and water in the 
 hand of each, during a pause in the embracing. 
 Then Lena was swept off to bed in the arms of 
 Mrs Dixon, and Cecil and her aunt sat talking 
 over the perils of the clay till the doctor ordered 
 them away in their turn. 
 
 When Cecil went into her cousin's room to 
 wish her good night, she saw her velvet prayer- 
 book lying on the table, with the fly-leaf open. 
 
 There was a list of names written in it, of 
 those persons whom she wished to mention in 
 her evening prayer — a little fancy of hers, for 
 she was not likely to forget any of them. 
 
 The last name, in Lena's irregular hand, was 
 not yet dry. 
 
 They stood thus : — 
 
 Papa. 
 
 Mamma. 
 
 Dixon. 
 
 Cecil. 
 
 Boy. 
 
 For Lena took everything seriously ; and she
 
 134 LENA, OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 
 
 firmly believed it her duty to pray for the 
 person who had rescued her from a watery 
 grave.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 While in shepherd hamlet dark, 
 Thou livest, with want within, and raiment coarse without, 
 And none upon thy state hath thrown 
 Gentle regard ; I — I alone 
 To new and lofty venture call thee out. 
 Then, follow, thus besought, 
 Waste not thy soul in thought, 
 Brooks nor sloth nor lingering, 
 The great moment on the wing. 
 
 Fkom Guidi. 
 
 " I must manage to thank these gentlemen," 
 said Mr Fleming. " Upon my word, I am very 
 grateful to them. But I must run the chance of 
 meeting Mr Rothmond ; for I don't think Sir 
 Tressel would much relish my calling at his 
 house : he would think I was trying to make 
 his acquaintance."
 
 136 LENA, 
 
 " But we can go to the sailor, papa," said 
 Lena : "we know where to find him." 
 
 "So we will," said Mr Fleming. "Come, Cecil." 
 
 " Me !" exclaimed Cecil, drawing a little back. 
 
 "To be sure," replied Lena, clinging to her 
 cousin : " the idea of going without Cecil ! " 
 
 As they turned the point, they perceived the 
 sailor leaning against his boat, smoking a long 
 Turkish pipe ; the old woman standing beside 
 him knitting ; a little roguish-looking boy, also 
 in a sailor's dress, was working at the rigging of 
 the vessel. 
 
 The sailor raised his hat, with a smile, when 
 he saw Lena, and handed his pipe to the old 
 Corsican woman. 
 
 Mr Fleming expressed his thanks very cour- 
 teously for the welcome assistance he had ren- 
 dered to his little girl. 
 
 " And I thank you very much, too, sailor," 
 said Lena ; " and I wish I could have come be- 
 fore, but, until papa returned, I was not trusted 
 to go on the beach."
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 137 
 
 The sailor took her little hand which she held 
 out, frankly, and looked at her kindly. 
 
 "Why, little lady, I 'm puzzled to know what 
 I did," he said, " the young gentleman is the 
 hero. However, I was very glad to lend a hand. 
 I think I saved the signorina there from going 
 in after you." 
 
 Mr Fleming looked delighted at Cecil, who 
 coloured, and said nothing. 
 
 "You are from the Levant, I think, sir?" 
 said Mr Fleming. "I recognise the form of your 
 pipe. I used to smoke such a one at Cyprus." 
 
 " A better one than this, I dare say," replied 
 the sailor, with a careless laugh, taking it from 
 the old woman as he spoke. " This is not worth 
 sixpence; your professed smokers buy them by 
 the gross." 
 
 " Have you been a great traveller ? " asked 
 Mr Fleming. 
 
 "No — principally the shores of the Mediter- 
 ranean. I have always had a leaning to the 
 sea."
 
 138 LENA, 
 
 11 And are you building this pretty ship your- 
 self, sailor ? " asked Lena. 
 
 " Yes — I am helping, little lady : don't you 
 think it does me credit ? " he asked. 
 
 There was a careless dignity in the sailor's 
 bearing, totally different from the polish gained 
 in society, which yet impressed Mr Fleming 
 with his being somebody, as Cecil had said. He 
 wished to ask his name, but had no excuse for 
 doing so. Lena, in her simple way, settled the 
 matter. 
 
 " Yes, sailor," she replied. " I call you sailor, 
 because I do not know your name." 
 
 " My name is Hurst," he said, " John Hurst, 
 at your service. Will you like to look at the 
 craft?" 
 
 He lifted her into the boat, and showed her 
 the small cabins, and the different conveniences 
 of the vessel. 
 
 " Hurst ! there's nothing very aristocratic in 
 that name," said Mr Fleming, aside to Cecil. 
 " He 's a person of condition for all that," re-
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 139 
 
 plied Cecil, " with that sort of decision she had 
 acquired from her uncle Morland : look at his 
 hand. Uncle Ned says that the Greek hand, 
 though beautiful, is no sign of race; but the Nor- 
 man hand, with the oval nails, proves birth on 
 one side or other." 
 
 " Ah ! I see," replied Mr Fleming, glancing 
 at the sailor, who stood fingering the stalk of 
 his pipe, as he talked to Lena: " you are quite 
 right, my dear." 
 
 "And what shall you do with this boat, 
 sailor ? " asked Lena, as he handed her out 
 of it, 
 
 " Sail in it, little lady," he answered, laughing. 
 
 "Yes, but where?" 
 
 " I have a fancy to visit the Hebrides," he 
 replied. 
 
 "And who will go with you ?" she asked. 
 
 " That young scamp," he said, pointing with 
 his pipe to the cabin-boy, " and my old Cor- 
 
 sican." 
 
 Will she like it ?" asked Lena.
 
 140 
 
 "She can't help herself," he replied: "she could 
 not make it out alone here, for she does not know 
 a word of the language ; and she 's used to the 
 sea ; for though I have never sailed under the 
 black flag, she is the widow of a man who was 
 little better than a buccaneer." 
 
 "And is she any relation to you?" asked 
 Lena, looking anxiously at the sailor. 
 
 " She was my nurse ; and she received the 
 last breath of my father and mother, dead of 
 the fever at Genoa," said the sailor, in a short 
 hard tone, as one determined not to show 
 any emotion. " Besides, the woman has good 
 sense : she is to me what the nurse of Charles 
 IX. was to him, if you remember such a 
 person." 
 
 " I don't, sailor ; but I dare say Cecil does : 
 she knows so much," returned Lena. 
 
 Cecil did not seem anxious to establish her 
 reputation, and Lena went on. 
 
 " Then she will always live with you, I 
 suppose ?"
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 141 
 
 " Always," lie replied, in the same hard tone; 
 " though not always in that hut." 
 
 "Then you will be better off, one day, sailor? " 
 said Lena. 
 
 " I shall," he replied, smiling at her simple 
 questioning: " what some people call better off; 
 but I 'm something of a philosopher, and doubt 
 it." 
 
 " Lena, my dear," said her father, " you came 
 to thank this gentleman for his kindness, and 
 you must not take up his time with your ques- 
 tions; which have nothing to do with yourself." 
 
 " I like it," said the sailor decidedly. 
 
 " And I like to talk to you, sailor," said Lena : 
 " may I come again and see your ship ?" 
 
 " Come and see me, little lady," said the 
 sailor, laughing. 
 
 Mr Fleming laughed too ; so did Lena, 
 though she coloured a little. Cecil took her 
 uncle's arm, and turned away. 
 
 " There 's nothing very amusing, I think, in 
 his ship," she said, as they were walking home.
 
 142 LENA, 
 
 " Oli ! I think so," said Lena ; " there are 
 two cabins, and a little fireplace; and the 
 old woman cooks for him : it must be so 
 pleasant." 
 
 " How wonderfully Lena got on with him," 
 said Mr Fleming to Cecil : " I don't know that 
 I ever heard her talk so much." 
 
 Cecil drily assented. It must be confessed 
 that she felt a little piqued that Lena took the 
 lead in this affair — she who was always first at 
 Thornley. The sailor did not appear to know 
 she was present ; for she was just at that age 
 when girls are least noticed by strangers, — too 
 old to be played with, not old enough to be 
 supposed capable of conversation. 
 
 Mrs Dixon was in waiting for Lena at the 
 foot of the stairs. " You are wanted, Miss 
 Lena," she said, twitching off her hat, and 
 inflicting a sharp brush on her silken hair, 
 " there 's the young gentleman come as picked 
 you up out of the water." 
 
 Lena slid out of her hands, and ran straight
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 143 
 
 to the drawing room, exclaiming, as she came in 
 all breathless and dyed with blushes, — 
 
 " Oh ! boy, I am so glad to see you, and 
 thank you." 
 
 " Mr Rothmond, my love," said Mrs Fleming, 
 in a gentle under-tone. 
 
 Lena bent her head in perfect accordance 
 that he should be called by that name, and 
 sat down by her mother. 
 
 "I'm quite ashamed," said Mr Rothmond: 
 " Mrs Fleming has been so kind as to thank me, 
 really for nothing, — I ran no risk, you know : 
 I wish I had, with all my heart." 
 
 Lena looked at him, and then round upon 
 the company, as if to say, " Did you ever hear 
 the like of that?" 
 
 " I called to see you," continued Mr Roth- 
 mond : "we are going on to Wrexworth, to see 
 my grandfather to-morrow ; and I am so glad I 
 did not miss you." 
 
 " The Duke of Axminster ? asked Mr Fleming. 
 
 " Yes. Have you seen Vrrexworth ? It is a
 
 144 
 
 very good specimen of Gothic architecture ; but 
 I prefer the early English," said Mr Rothmond. 
 
 " No : you don't see the house from the road : 
 and that reminds me, Selina, when you are able 
 we must really go to the chapel at Holyfield. " 
 
 " That is a gem," observed Mr Rothmond to 
 Lena : do you like ruins ? " 
 
 " I think she likes rocks better," remarked 
 Mr Fleming, smiling. 
 
 " Ah !" said Mr Rothmond, " have you been 
 on those rocks again ?" 
 
 " Oh, no!" she replied in her half- whispered 
 tone ; " never again !" 
 
 " Why, you are not afraid, are you ?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes — very !" she replied. 
 
 " If you will go with me 1 11 take care of 
 you," said the boy ; " we will find shells to- 
 gether." 
 
 Lena looked up wistfully in her mamma's face. 
 
 " Oh ! if Mr Rothmond is willing to take so 
 much trouble," said Mrs Fleming.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 145 
 
 Lena's face lit up. 
 
 " Shall we say to-morrow morning?" asked 
 Mr Rothmond. 
 
 " We are just going to dinner," said Mrs 
 Fleming ; "if you will make it your luncheon 
 we shall be very happy." 
 
 " Thank you very much. I 'm sorry I can't 
 stay," said Mr Rothmond, taking out his watch; 
 " for I promised my father to drive with him at 
 two : but I shall see you to-morrow." 
 
 " The tide is down at eleven," said Lena. 
 
 " That will do perfectly : we don't go to 
 Wrexworth till the afternoon," said Mr Roth- 
 mond ; and he took his leave. 
 
 " It is singular," Cecil overheard her uncle 
 say to Mrs Fleming, when Lena was out of the 
 room ; " but their ages are so very suitable — 
 fifteen and twelve — eh ?" 
 
 " My dear Ernest ! speculating already ?" 
 said Mrs Fleming, smiling. 
 
 " And, you see, an old baronet — connected 
 with a ducal house — and so very pleasing a boy! 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 146 
 
 Although I should prefer a higher rank, I think 
 I could hardly do better on the whole ! " added 
 Mr Fleming. 
 
 "Seven years hence," my dear Ernest, "will 
 be time enough," answered his wife. 
 
 " I am surprised to hear of the Rothmonds 
 going to Wrexworth, after what the doctor told 
 us," observed Mr Fleming. 
 
 " At his age, it is a pleasant thing to find that 
 the duke does not keep up his resentments," was 
 Mrs Fleming's reply. 
 
 " I saw his Grace's carriage this morning in 
 the village," said Mr Fleming ; " but there were 
 only two young ladies in it, about Cecil's age, 
 with their maid." 
 
 Cecil looked up. 
 
 " Oh ! I daresay they were his granddaughters, 
 the Dawbeney girls," she said. " Emily's teeth 
 stick out very much, and Adela is a sickly, 
 sandy-haired girl." . 
 
 "Your portrait is correct, my dear; though 
 not very complimentary," said Mr Fleming, 
 laughing.
 
 OR THE SILEXT WOMAN. 147 
 
 " I do so dislike them," said Cecil : " you have 
 no idea the airs they give themselves. Aunt 
 Morland asked them to a Christmas party last 
 year, and they came ; but not Lady John. You 
 see, the fact is, that Lady John belongs to quite 
 a different set from my aunt ; the girls have 
 found that out, and, I assure you, they would 
 hardly speak to Lou and Hen ; and though, as 
 children, we lived next door to them, and met 
 almost every day, they pretended to have for- 
 gotten Laura and me, and had to be introduced 
 to us over again. I told uncle Ned that I 
 would always cut them henceforth, wherever I 
 might meet them. 
 
 Mr Fleming laughed : but these sketches of 
 a society above his own were very much to his 
 taste. Mrs Fleming was perfectly devoid of this 
 fondness for great people ; and the idea of Lena 
 carrying her fortune to repair the extravagance 
 of some man of rank, would have filled her 
 with horror, if she could have believed Mr 
 Fleming really entertained such a thought.
 
 148 LENA, 
 
 " I happened to be in the circulating library 
 the other day," observed Mr Fleming, " when 
 the duke's gentleman came in for some French 
 novels for his own reading." 
 
 " A very bad thing," said Mrs Fleming, 
 simply; "for people so rarely select those which 
 are quite harmless." 
 
 " Yes ; only it shows the sort of establish- 
 ment the duke keeps, when his valet can read 
 French," rejoined Mr Fleming. 
 
 Cecil was rather amused to hear all this talk 
 about the duke. The only member of his 
 family whom she knew at all was Lord John 
 Dawbeney ; and she was so accustomed to hear 
 Lord Morland speak of him with contempt, as 
 regarded horses, that she looked down upon 
 him excessively. She knew that he sat a horse 
 badly, and that he would go any distance rather 
 than leap a fence, and there was an end of him ; 
 as she said, with a wave of her hand, when her 
 uncle questioned her about him. 
 
 Young Rothmond kept his appointment, and
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 149 
 
 Lena spent a happy hour collecting shells with 
 him on the rocks ; Cecil and Mr Fleming loiter- 
 ing near. 
 
 The next day he rode over from Wrexworth 
 to help her to arrange the shells ; and the next, 
 to show her how to preserve her sea-weeds. 
 On these occasions he took luncheon with the 
 Flemings, and at length it became an under- 
 stood thing that they should see him sometime 
 during the day. 
 
 Two things were constantly on Mr Fleming's 
 mind respecting him : one, that by some strange 
 accident he might be the means of bringing 
 them acquainted with the Duke of Axminster ; 
 the other, that he might form an early attach- 
 ment to Lena. 
 
 It is speaking within bounds to say, that if 
 Sir Tressel had guessed at either of these plans, 
 he would have gladly consigned Mr Fleming 
 to the gallows ; but he thought that, at his son's 
 age, it little mattered with whom he associated, 
 and that he might as well amuse himself with
 
 150 LENA, 
 
 Mr Fleming's little girl, as with any of the 
 fishermen's children on the coast ; and the boy 
 shunned his Dawbeney cousins as if they had 
 the plague : much to Lady John's annoyance, 
 who wished to interest him in Adela. 
 
 But a greater delight to Lena even than 
 Mr Rothmond's visits, was to go and watch the 
 progress of the fairy ship, and talk to the sailor 
 and the old Corsican. Whenever she could 
 persuade her papa to walk that way she was 
 happy. If he urged that she interrupted Mr 
 Hurst in his work, she would say, "No — he is 
 always glad to see me." And so he was : he 
 would throw down his hammer, or his spade, 
 when she came near, and gather her flowers or 
 raspberries, or take her into the ship and teach 
 her to furl a sail ; or, greatest treat of all, sum- 
 mon the old woman to light a fire in the cabin, 
 and to make her some coffee, or let her play at 
 cooking. 
 
 While Lena was thus engaged, lisping Vene- 
 tian to the old Corsican, who barely understood
 
 OE THE SILENT WOMAN. 151 
 
 her, Hurst would sit on the beach with Mr 
 Fleming, smoking and talking, chiefly of books ; 
 for there is a free-masonry in literature which 
 those who love reading intuitively discover. 
 Often, while they were discussing Montesquieu, 
 or Davila, Lena's fair head would be popped 
 over the side of the vessel with some exclama- 
 tion of quiet delight, such as " Papa, the fire 
 quite burns up now ; " or, " Papa, we are mak- 
 ing some famous maccaroni." Sometimes she 
 would prefer sitting beside them on the beach, 
 and listening to their conversation. 
 
 "I should think, sailor," she said one day, 
 with a pretty little air of wisdom, " that you 
 must have read a great deal." 
 
 " I ! no, little lady," he said, " I have read a 
 very little, and that 's why I enjoy it. Reading 
 a great deal is something like eating a great 
 deal ; you lose your relish for it, though at the 
 same time you can't do without it." 
 
 " It 's a great deal to me, sailor, who read 
 nothing," said Lena.
 
 152 
 
 " You don't want to read, little lady : you 
 have ideas of your own," he said. 
 
 Cecil was rarely of the party : she preferred 
 staying with her aunt ; for the sailor seemed to 
 overlook her, and she did not notice how often 
 his dark deep-set blue eyes were directed to- 
 wards her with a keen glance of admiration. 
 
 One day Lena was more silent than usual — for, 
 as her papa remarked, she always talked to Mr 
 Hurst — till all at once she said, " Sailor, where 
 do you go to church ? " 
 
 "Nowhere, little lady," he replied. 
 
 "Oh, sailor! " cried Lena, holding up her hands. 
 
 " This is my church ! " he exclaimed, waving 
 his hand towards the rocks that were frowning 
 above their heads. 
 
 " That is no church at all," said Lena. 
 
 " Well, and what do you go to church for," 
 he asked, with a laugh. 
 
 "To do me good," she answered. 
 
 " And if I went, it would be just to see you," 
 he returned.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 153 
 
 " That is not riglit," rejoined Lena, gravely. 
 
 " Suppose I don't want to be seen," said 
 Hurst. 
 
 " That cannot be, for you are not a thief," 
 she answered. 
 
 "How do you know that? — you took me 
 for a pirate at first. 
 
 "And you told me you were not one," re- 
 plied Lena. 
 
 " You can't put her from her text," said Mr 
 Fleming. 
 
 " Suppose I did not tell you true," the sailor 
 suggested. 
 
 " Giovanna says you are not a pirate : she 
 says you are a great lord," persisted Lena. 
 
 " All the English are great lords in Italy," 
 returned Hurst ; who seemed, however, more 
 embarrassed than the occasion required. " What 
 next, little lady ? " 
 
 " The next thing is to come to church," re- 
 plied Lena ; " there is room in our pew." 
 
 u Suppose I have no prayer-book."
 
 154 LENA, 
 
 " You shall have half mine, and it is a very 
 large one," said Lena, earnestly. 
 
 " I shall take the lion's share of it." 
 
 " So you shall, sailor." 
 
 " Well — I '11 come : the child turns one round 
 her finger. Shake hands upon it, little lady," 
 said the sailor, as Mr Fleming rose to go. 
 
 " An extraordinary person ! I should like to 
 know his history. What did Giovanna tell 
 you ? " asked Mr Fleming, as he walked home 
 hand in hand with his daughter. 
 
 But Lena had nothing farther to tell : Gio- 
 vanna had simply said the very words she had 
 quoted. 
 
 It happened the next morning, while Cecil 
 and Lena were playing on the beach, that the 
 Duke of Axminster's carriage drove up to the 
 steps just below Mr Fleming's villa. The duke 
 and his two granddaughters got out, and came 
 down the steps close to the cousins. The duke 
 was a very tall, thin old man, with hair as white 
 as silver, and piercing light blue eyes ; the
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 155 
 
 Dawbeney girls pretty much as Cecil had de- 
 scribed them. They were tall and well made, 
 but not pretty ; and still less attractive in man- 
 ner. The duke leaned on the arm of a servant, 
 who carried a folding chair. 
 
 " Here, grandpapa, don't go any farther," ex- 
 claimed the eldest : "we wish to sit down on the 
 beach." 
 
 "Is there no shade anywhere?" asked the 
 duke, putting up his double eye-glass. 
 
 " Your grace will find no shade nearer than 
 that rock," said the servant, pointing to the 
 cliff that stretched into the sea on the other side 
 of the bay. 
 
 "Of course not," said the eldest girl: "who 
 ever expects shade by the sea ? " 
 
 "And that's too far: well — give me the 
 paper," said the duke, taking the seat which the 
 servant placed for him, and opening the Times. 
 
 " I thought you liked the sun, grandpapa," 
 observed the youngest girl. 
 
 " Not by the sea," my dear : there 's such a
 
 156 LENA, 
 
 glare, I can hardly read," replied the duke, in 
 an irritable tone. 
 
 " Come away, or he '11 ask us to read to him," 
 muttered the eldest girl, pulling her sister by 
 the arm. 
 
 "Oh, wicked girl!" exclaimed Lena, in an 
 earnest whisper to her cousin. 
 
 " Just like her! that's Emily," exclaimed Cecil. 
 
 " Where are you going, my dears ? " asked 
 the duke, looking up from his paper. 
 
 " To that cliff, grandpapa, out of the heat," 
 replied the eldest, readily. 
 
 "No — don't do that: you will be out of 
 sight," he urged, looking uneasily round. 
 
 " Isn't he just like an old hen with one 
 chick? " said the eldest, laughing, to her sister. 
 
 "Two chicks, you mean," returned the 
 youngest, improving the witticism. 
 
 "Emily, I won't have it. Come back," ex- 
 claimed the duke. 
 
 " We shall not be out of sight of your spyglass, 
 grandpapa," persisted the youngest. 
 
 I
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 157 
 
 " Take Evans with you, at any rate," said the 
 duke, looking round for the servant. 
 
 " He 's gone to the village to speak about 
 some biscuits," objected the eldest girl. " No one 
 will run away with us, grandpapa. I wish they 
 would," she added, to her sister : "it would make 
 a little change. Come, Adela : he takes us still 
 for children — stupid old man !" 
 
 Lena gazed at Cecil with unbounded aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 "Yes — that's their way," said Cecil, with all 
 her uncle Ned's indifference. " When you are 
 as old as I am, you will be surprised at nothing. 
 I 'm thankful they did not recognise me ; for, 
 though it is very fine and grand to be a Daw- 
 beney, of course, I don't like the set. Let 's go 
 and tell uncle Fleming we have seen the duke.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 When those soft eyes of scarcely conscious thought, 
 
 Some tale or thine own fancies would engage 
 
 To overflow with tears ; or converse fraught 
 
 With passion o'er their depths its fleeting light had wrought. 
 
 Shelled. 
 
 It was a happy day for Lena when Mrs Flem- 
 ing declared herself well enough to go to the 
 ruined chapel. She was never demonstrative 
 in her joy, but crept about the house more 
 softly than usual, and was found nestled in odd 
 corners playing her concertina ; on which she 
 repeated all the wild airs she had picked up in 
 the Levant during her childhood. Some of 
 these she rendered with a fervent passion, that
 
 LENA, OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 159 
 
 made Mrs Fleming more decided than ever not 
 to let her learn music at present : her one aim 
 was not to fatigue or stimulate the child's deli- 
 cate organization. 
 
 It was evening, and the sun was just setting 
 behind the rocks on the other side of the bay. 
 The carriage was waiting at the garden gate, 
 and they were drinking coffee in the verandah 
 before they started. 
 
 Lena, who was hovering restlessly about from 
 the wall to the verandah and back again, sud- 
 denly spied the picturesque figure of the sailor, 
 with his gray hat on one side, and a dark cloak 
 swinging from one shoulder, coming up from 
 the village. 
 
 " Oh, papa ! if the sailor were to come with 
 us ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " Run out and ask him," said Mr Fleming, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Sailor!" cried Lena, as he came under the 
 garden wall. 
 
 " Ah ! little lady," he answered, stopping 
 short ; " how are you ?"
 
 160 LENA, 
 
 " We want you very much to go with us," 
 said Lena. 
 
 "To go where ?" asked the sailor. 
 
 " To Holyfield," replied Lena, earnestly. 
 
 " Holyfield?" he repeated, knitting his brows. 
 
 " By moonlight!" added Lena. 
 
 " Ah, little lady, I have seen the Temple of 
 the Giants by moonlight ; which on the whole 
 is a better thing." 
 
 Lena took hold of his brown cloak, as if she 
 would draw him in. 
 
 " No ; not Holyfield — not Wrexworth," he 
 murmured, as if speaking to himself. 
 
 " Yes, you will, sailor, because I wish it," 
 urged Lena. 
 
 " What can you say now?" asked Mr Flem- 
 ing, who joined them at the wall. 
 
 " Oh ! I yield," replied the sailor, opening the 
 garden gate — " I never dispute your authority : 
 do I, little lady." 
 
 Lena quietly drew him towards the verandah, 
 and then, extending her hand towards Mrs 
 Fleming, called —
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 161 
 
 "Mamma!" 
 
 " On my word, madam, I am a strange figure 
 to come into your presence," apologized the 
 sailor, glancing at his rough dress. 
 
 "I think, Mr Hurst, we all keep you very 
 well in countenance," replied Mrs Fleming, in 
 her gentle manner : — " we make ourselves very 
 rustic here." 
 
 Lena silently brought him a cup of coffee ; 
 and, while he drank it, she stood by him ex- 
 amining his cloak, which he had thrown down 
 on a seat. 
 
 " This is Sicilian, is it not, sailor ?" she asked. 
 
 " Palermitan, little lady : now I am at your 
 orders," said the sailor, putting down his cup. 
 
 " Sit by me, sailor," said Lena. 
 
 " Of course," replied the sailor : "I'm under 
 your care." 
 
 Mr and Mrs Fleming sat together ; Hurst 
 between Cecil and Lena. Cecil wrapped her- 
 self in her mantle, and leaned back in great 
 state : people were not going to talk to her, 
 
 VOL. I. l
 
 162 
 
 she was well aware, and 'therefore she should 
 amuse herself with her own thoughts. 
 
 " And so, you were born in Italy ?" observed 
 Lena, inquiringly. 
 
 " Even so, little lady : at Naples. I had 
 never seen England till a few months ago." 
 
 a I wonder how you learned to speak Eng- 
 lish." 
 
 " I believe I know Italian better." 
 
 " I wish I did." 
 
 " It is not worth knowing." 
 
 " For the sake of the literature," interposed 
 Mrs Fleming. 
 
 "It is a poor literature, so far as I know," 
 said Hurst : " there 's nothing eminently useful 
 in it." 
 
 "There are the historians," urged Mr Fleming. 
 
 " To record the paltry squabbles of a 
 number of small societies," said the sailor; 
 " nobody cares for them. I '11 engage that few 
 people recollect anything of the subject after 
 reading Davila or Guicciardini : there 's no
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 163 
 
 great public lesson to be learned from such 
 histories." 
 
 " But Italy is surely rich in poets," pleaded 
 Mrs Fleming. 
 
 " Ay, I grant you, madam, that is rather a 
 luxury," said the sailor : " but poetry is the 
 thing of all others the least necessary, because 
 every one has poetry all around them. Every 
 one can feel and see — which is the ground- 
 work of poetry ; but every one cannot think 
 and reason; and therefore the valuable part 
 of a country's literature is that which teaches 
 men something they cannot know otherwise." 
 
 " Such as history, ethics, science in every 
 branch," observed Mr Fleming. 
 
 " Just that, I think," replied Hurst. 
 
 " And yet I will venture to say that Mr 
 Hurst is a great reader of poetry," remarked 
 Mrs Fleming. 
 
 " I plead guilty, madam : I take it as some 
 men take snuff," said the sailor ; " but I don't 
 insist on it as a necessary of life."
 
 164 LENA, 
 
 " Sailor, I don't quite understand," said Lena. 
 
 " Why, look there, little lady !" he exclaimed 
 pointing to the sands, now streaked with rosy 
 light by the rays of the setting sun : "what words, 
 let you twist and rhyme them as you may, could 
 do more than paint that scene beneath you ? 
 Every change in the clouds, every rustle of the 
 wind, surpasses all words. What is the use, then, 
 of poetry, when you have nature to look at ? " 
 
 Lena's large eyes, like lamps, were fixed 
 upon him. " For sick people, and people shut 
 up in towns, or — or ugly places," she said, "to 
 repeat to them these beautiful sights." 
 
 " I tell you what, little lady," he said, laugh- 
 ing, " the less you think the better, for the 
 next half-dozen years : you have more brains 
 already than ought to fall to your share." 
 
 " Oh ! sailor, the moon ! " was Lena's answer ; 
 for she never seized a compliment : she thought 
 so little about herself. 
 
 " Not bad," admitted the sailor : " but we 
 have seen the moon in the Mediterranean."
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 1G5 
 
 " Oh ! and such stars !" exclaimed Lena. 
 
 " Ah ! — we have seen the stars, noi altri" 
 retorted the sailor. 
 
 Cecil felt very angry : when, as if to acid insult 
 to injury, the sailor began talking Italian to 
 Lena; and Mr Fleming, who spoke the language 
 fluently, joined in. Now Cecil found that learn- 
 ing the Italian grammar with Miss Penley was a 
 very different thing from hearing it talked ra- 
 pidly : she could not catch a single word they 
 uttered. 
 
 At last they turned into a field, below which, 
 in a sudden declivity, stood the roofless build- 
 ing ; with tall ash trees and hawthorns growing 
 within and without, and fragments of pillars, 
 elaborately carved, scattered around, half hid- 
 den by fern and brambles. The east window, 
 wrought like lace-work, was still nearly perfect. 
 The moonlight touched it as with a silver pen- 
 cil, illustrating Scott's too well-known lines. 
 
 A few sheep were feeding on the slope, and 
 their tinkling bells, breaking the stillness, sug-
 
 166 LENA, 
 
 gested the time when Wrexworth was a priory, 
 and the chapel in the Holyfield resounded with 
 the vesper chime and chant. 
 
 The sailor took off his hat as he passed be- 
 neath the arched entrance, and remained leaning 
 silently against the wall, after having thrown his 
 cloak on the fragment of a pillar, and invited 
 Lena to take her seat upon it. 
 
 Mrs Fleming remained in the carriage ; Cecil 
 and her uncle explored every part of the ruins 
 together. 
 
 " Sailor," whispered Lena, after a pause, " do 
 you think this place is haunted ? " 
 
 He started, and then sat down beside her. 
 
 " Haunted ! of course it is : look beneath 
 that east window." 
 
 " Ha ! sailor," cried Lena, shuddering. 
 
 " If it should chance to be moonlight about 
 one in the morning, you would see a female 
 figure in white, kneeling beneath the east win- 
 dow with her arms extended, as the Catholics 
 sometimes do in sign of penance."
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 167 
 
 " And who was she, and what had she 
 done ? " asked Lena eagerly. 
 
 " She was a daughter of Lord Wrexworth, 
 the ancestor of the present duke ; and she had 
 married a person beneath her in rank : she ran 
 off with the captain of his archers. After a 
 time her husband treated her very badly, and 
 she wished to return home ; but her father 
 would not forgive her — it is not the custom in 
 that family — and one day she was found lying 
 there, under the east window, dead. She was 
 buried on the spot ; for they did not think her 
 fit company for the others in the family vault." 
 
 " Do you think she destroyed herself?" whis- 
 pered Lena. 
 
 " No ; it was said that, being in the last stage 
 of a consumption, she had attempted to reach 
 her home, but had not been able to get farther 
 than the chapel ; where she died." 
 
 " What a dreadful thing for her father !" ex- 
 claimed Lena. 
 
 " You need not waste your pity upon him,"
 
 168 LENA, 
 
 said the sailor, with a laugh that sounded rather 
 bitter : " it is not in the family to be over- 
 whelmed on such occasions." 
 
 " And what was her name, sailor ?" 
 
 " Sybil Dawbeney, till she married. I never 
 heard the name of the archer : possibly the 
 earl took no pains to preserve it in the family 
 records." 
 
 " And yet, sailor, though the earl was very 
 cruel, I wonder — " 
 
 " What do you wonder, little lady ?" 
 
 " How any one can marry without their 
 parents' consent," said Lena. 
 
 " La chose est faisible ! always supposing the 
 parties are of age," replied the sailor, laughing. 
 
 " You should not laugh; for it is very wicked," 
 said Lena, seriously. 
 
 " Take care, then, you never do it yourself, 
 little lady," returned the sailor. 
 
 "Me! good gracious ! " 
 
 " Suppose a baron were to offer to run away 
 with you," suggested the sailor, still laughing.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 169 
 
 " Certainly not," said Lena. 
 "An earl?" 
 
 "Oh! dear, no!" 
 
 "A duke?" 
 
 " It would be just the same," replied Lena, 
 with a decided gesture of her hand. 
 
 " You have more conscience than Anne of 
 Austria," observed the sailor, starting up. 
 
 " Tell me that story, sailor," cried Lena, 
 following him. 
 
 "Ask your father what Mazarin said to 
 Anne of Austria, and what she said to him 
 again " returned the sailor. 
 
 " When you are a little older," said Mr 
 Fleming. 
 
 Lena acquiesced patiently, as she always did ; 
 though she wished to hear the story. 
 
 " That 's a remarkable anecdote you were 
 telling Lena," said Mr Fleming, as they drove 
 home : " it ought to be in the guide book." 
 
 " I had it from one of the family," said the 
 sailor; " but I don't vouch for it."
 
 170 LENA, 
 
 " Don't forget to-morrow, sailor," pleaded 
 Lena, as he was taking leave of the party. 
 "What's to-morrow," asked Mr Fleming. 
 " Sunday," answered Lena. 
 " To-morrow I am at your orders, little lady; 
 as I always am," was the sailor's reply. 
 
 "Certainly," observed Mr Fleming, as they sat 
 at supper, " that friend of yours, my little Lena, 
 is a very striking person : there 's a dignity in 
 his gestures quite surprising. -As he stood in 
 the chapel with his hat off, I could fancy a 
 pilgrim revisiting the tombs of his fathers : 
 he's perfectly different from the people one 
 meets. I should like to know his history." 
 
 "You burn, uncle Fleming," thought Cecil to 
 herself, " but I shall say nothing : things may 
 be found out some day or other, and then it 
 will be seen whether 1 am right or not. A 
 light flashed upon me when he said, in that 
 peculiar tone, ' they don't forgive in that fa- 
 mily.' It is very well to take no notice of 
 people, and not to see them even ; but they
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 171 
 
 may have eyes on their side, and ears too. I 
 remember now, that day when Basil and I 
 were getting the wager-boat ready for uncle 
 Morland, he and uncle Ned were talking about 
 the death of Lord Hurstmonceaux, of fever, at 
 Genoa, with his wife. I hope that agrees with 
 what the sailor told us ! And uncle Ned said 
 that the duke was on bad terms with him to 
 the last, and that the grandson had disap- 
 peared, much to the duke's vexation. Oh ! 
 this is capital ! — how uncle Ned would laugh ! 
 Shall I be amused watching all this ? It will 
 be just like a game of blind-man's buff, with 
 the players all blinded, and me sitting with my 
 eyes wide open looking on." 
 
 " Oh ! look, uncle, here's Lena asleep on my 
 shoulder," cried Cecil. " Wake up, darling, just 
 till we get to the top of the stairs. Not much 
 brushing and combing to-night, Mrs Dixon, — 
 we are both tired out. I wonder whether we 
 shall dream of the ghost !" 
 
 Mrs Fleming was not well enough to go to 
 church the next day, and Mr Fleming took the
 
 172 LENA, 
 
 girls in the carriage ; for the church they at- 
 tended, which was in the parish of Wrexworth, 
 was beyond a walk. The cousins were dressed 
 in worked muslin frocks, over blue silk slips, 
 and little white chip bonnets, trimmed with 
 pale blue ribbons. Cecil looked more brilliant 
 than ever, the blue rosettes contrasting with 
 her golden hair and apple-blossom complexion. 
 
 " I wonder whether your friend will keep 
 his appointment, Lena ? " said Mr Fleming, as 
 they drew near the church. 
 
 Lena quietly nodded her head towards the 
 churchyard gate, where the sailor was standing 
 ready to hand her out. 
 
 " How fine we are to-day, little lady," he 
 said, stopping and surveying her from head to 
 foot. 
 
 Lena sighed : fine clothes gave her no plea- 
 sure, and the India muslin robe and blue silk 
 mantle represented to her only an extra amount 
 of twitching, and snatching, and sharp hair- 
 brushing from Mrs Dixon; the only person who 
 ever said a cross word to the little heiress.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 173 
 
 Mr Fleming and Cecil went in first, then 
 Lena and the sailor. He gave her a large 
 cluster of the orange briar roses : she coloured 
 like a sea-shell, with delight. 
 
 "And this is our prayer-book?" asked the 
 sailor. 
 
 Lena nodded, and placed it between them. 
 
 " Whose pew is that opposite ?" he asked. 
 
 Lena raised her eyes to the gallery, which was 
 entirely taken up by a large pew, furnished Ttfith 
 crimson velvet hangings and cushions. 
 
 " I don't know, — it 's always empty," she 
 replied indifferently ; and she began to look out 
 the psalms for the day. 
 
 " It belongs to the Duke of Axminster," said 
 Mr Fleming. 
 
 The sailor made a gesture that did not 
 escape Cecil, and let himself fall into his corner 
 of the pew, as if he resigned himself to a dis- 
 agreeable occurrence. 
 
 Whereas it gave Mr Fleming a solid pleasure 
 to look up at the empty range of velvet chairs
 
 174 
 
 that adorned the august gallery, and reflect to 
 whom it belonged. 
 
 But on this auspicious Sunday, hardly had 
 the first notes of the voluntary rolled from the 
 organ, when the gallery door opened, and the 
 whole party from Wrexworth filled up the 
 front row of the pew. 
 
 The duke took his place at the head, then 
 came Lady John and Sir Tressel, then the 
 Dawbeney girls, with young Rothmond im- 
 prisoned between them. 
 
 Lady John Dawbeney was a tall unsightly 
 woman, always badly dressed, with a large 
 shapeless nose, and weak eyes, set very high in 
 her head. Cecil's cheeks glowed with anger 
 the moment she beheld her; for Lady John 
 had extended to the children of her early friend 
 the neglect with which she saw fit to treat the 
 Morland family. But, as she observed confiden- 
 tially to a friend, she knew the world too well 
 to domesticate two beautiful girls in her house, 
 with daughters of her own growing up. But
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 175 
 
 she was a very affectionate mother, and a most 
 attentive wife to not the very best of husbands ; 
 and if people will go on insisting on finding all 
 the virtues in their acquaintance, it is not for 
 want of daily experience to teach them better. 
 Her daughters, frightfully dressed, and forbid- 
 ding in appearance, forced themselves rudely 
 into their chairs ; having signed young Roth- 
 mond into the seat between them, who took it 
 with an air of shy terror very diverting to 
 behold. They then deposited their books on 
 the desk in front of them, and settled them- 
 selves as if in their private box at the French 
 play. 
 
 Mr Fleming could not help glancing with 
 some satisfaction at the two lovely children 
 beside him, dressed with such simple elegance, 
 and contrasting them with the high-born Daw- 
 beney girls. 
 
 Lena looked up with unfeigned childish ad- 
 miration at the duke; whose beautiful head, 
 surrounded with silver hair, was thrown into
 
 176 
 
 strong relief by the red velvet curtain behind 
 his chair. 
 
 Presently young Rothmond discovered Lena, 
 and, though he was too well behaved to make 
 her a sign, his features lighted up with plea- 
 sure. 
 
 The Dawbeney girls, who were staring at 
 him with the most brazen effrontery — for they 
 both thought him very beautiful — followed the 
 direction of his gaze, and looked from Lena to 
 Cecil with a sour expression : they were quite 
 old enough to hate attraction in another person, 
 even if it were in the matter of a muslin frock. 
 They recognised Cecil, but took care not to be- 
 tray any sign of intelligence in their regard. 
 They made up for it by staring at the sailor 
 (whom they spoke of afterwards as a handsome 
 man) with the liveliest perseverance. 
 
 Cecil, a match for them in sang froid, let her 
 half-closed eyes wander along the gallery and 
 among the Saxon pillars of the church, as if all 
 was to her equally new and indifferent. She
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 177 
 
 had time to observe, however, that the duke's 
 double eyeglass was constantly directed to their 
 pew ; and although she did not stand very low 
 in her own esteem, she could not but perceive 
 that, after a very cursory glance at the others, 
 his gaze remained fixed on the sailor, — the 
 severe outline of whose features, particularly 
 that strong development of the brows which 
 is said to mark a resolute will, repeated those 
 of the duke with marvellous exactness. 
 
 Whether he was aware of the interest he ex- 
 cited, Cecil could hardly tell ; for he followed 
 the movement of Lena's little finger through 
 the service with the steadiest perseverance ; 
 while, during the intervals of the prayers, he 
 remained leaning back, with that blank expres- 
 sion of eye which is said to belong to the high 
 and the low when they have no intention of 
 depicting their thoughts, but which is a finesse 
 of countenance entirely beyond the intervening 
 classes. 
 
 As they were coming out of church, young 
 VOL. i. M
 
 178 LENA 
 
 Rothmond found means to evade his cousins, 
 and to make his way to Lena. 
 
 " We come back to the hotel to-morrow," he 
 said ; "I am so glad : I can walk with you on 
 the sands every day." 
 
 11 Do," said Lena. 
 
 " Who is that with you ? " he asked. 
 
 " Don't you know ? — the nice sailor who car- 
 ried me home the day I fell in the sea." 
 
 " Oh ! to be sure — what 's his name." 
 
 " Hurst." 
 
 " How very odd — he 's so like my grand- 
 father." 
 
 " Dear ! do you think so ? " 
 
 Here the eldest Dawbeney ran towards her 
 cousin, screaming that the carriage was waiting, 
 and her grandpapa wondered where he was. 
 
 The Flemings waited for their carriage till 
 the duke's party had driven off. 
 
 Cecil heard the duke say to Mr Rothmond — 
 
 "Who were those people, my dear, you were 
 speaking to as you came out of the church ? "
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 179 
 
 Sir Tressel answered shortly for him — 
 
 " People he found on the sands, named Hol- 
 land," I believe. 
 
 " Fleming," said Mr Rothmond, colouring 
 scarlet. 
 
 The Dawbeney girls burst out laughing. 
 
 The carriage drove off; Cecil coloured as 
 deeply as Mr Rothmond. 
 
 "What's the matter, signorina?" asked the 
 sailor. 
 
 He addressed her so seldom that she coloured 
 still more. 
 
 " Something those odious girls did to an- 
 noy me," she replied, stepping forward to the 
 carriage. 
 
 The sailor managed to preserve a grave 
 countenance, though he looked very much in- 
 clined to laugh. 
 
 " Let us take you to the brow of the cliff," 
 said Mr Fleming. 
 
 He accepted. Lena signed him as usual be- 
 side her.
 
 180 LENA, 
 
 " I thought you knew the Dawbeneys," said 
 Mr Fleming to Cecil. 
 
 " I make a point of cutting them everywhere," 
 she replied, in a clear, keen tone, just like her 
 uncle Ned. 
 
 "Why?" asked Lena. 
 
 " Because they are insolent," she replied. 
 
 The sailor laughed out. 
 
 " They are very near neighbours of her 
 uncle, Lord Morland," said Mr Fleming to the 
 sailor. 
 
 " A great deal too near," replied Cecil. 
 
 Hurst fixed his brilliant eyes on Cecil 
 with a smile. He seemed amused by her 
 manner. 
 
 " They are not very beautiful," he remarked 
 at last. 
 
 " The duke is very beautiful," said Lena. 
 
 " Oh ! you think so, little lady ? " 
 
 "Don't you?" 
 
 ." Not at all." 
 
 " Well, I shall come to see you to-morrow,
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 181 
 
 sailor," said Lena, as he was getting out of the 
 carriage. 
 
 " 1 hope you may be able to keep all your 
 appointments," he said, laughing: "you make 
 so many — I heard you, with that handsome 
 young spark, coming out of church. But I 
 shall expect you, remember." 
 
 She looked simply at him, and then made 
 him a sign with her bouquet of roses, as he 
 turned the corner of the hill.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 But there ben folk of swicke condition, 
 That whan they han a certain purpos take, 
 They cannot stint of hir entention, 
 But right as they were bounden to a stake, 
 They wol not of hir firste purpos slake. 
 
 Chaucer. 
 
 " If I were you, Lena, I should not be too niuch 
 flattered by master Rothmond scampering after 
 his father in that way," said Cecil, looking with 
 haughty eyelids after the young gentleman who 
 had been gathering seaweed with them during 
 the morning, and had suddenly broken off on 
 finding that it was the hour at which he had 
 promised his father to return. " At least, that 's 
 not my idea of good manners." 
 
 Lena let down her basket, and looked quite 
 bewildered into Cecil's face.
 
 LENA, OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 183 
 
 " He 's so fond of his father," she said at last. 
 
 "Mighty fond," retorted Cecil, drily. " I don't 
 admire such fondness. I hate Sir Tressel, for 
 my part : the Axminster lot are bad enough, 
 but Sir Tressel is worse than all. 
 
 "Why?" asked Lena. 
 
 " Oh ! you could not understand : but I 
 know. As uncle Ned says, men of his rank, 
 when they are proud, are fifty thousand times 
 more insufferable than any duke in the king- 
 dom." 
 
 " I don't understand those things," said Lena, 
 squeezing the seaweed into her basket ; " but I 
 suppose it is a good thing to be a lord." 
 
 " Sir Tressel is not a lord," said Cecil ; "he 
 is an insolent man. — Holland, indeed ! " 
 
 Cecil had been chafing over the little scene 
 at the church door ever since : the laughter 
 of the Dawbeney girls yet rang in her ears. 
 
 " Here's papa," said Lena. 
 
 "Well, are you ready? Shall we go and 
 see the sailor ? " asked Mr Fleming.
 
 184 LENA, 
 
 " Yes, papa ; Cecil will come too." 
 
 Cecil, whose curiosity was aroused with re- 
 gard to the sailor, expressed herself willing to 
 join them. 
 
 He was working at his vessel ; he threw 
 down his tools and came to meet them. 
 
 " Well, have you seen your friend this morn- 
 ing, or is that pleasure to come ?" he asked of 
 Lena. 
 
 " Oh ! he has been with us all the morning," 
 she replied. 
 
 " I tell you I 'm jealous of him," said the 
 sailor. 
 
 " Why, sailor ?" asked Lena. 
 
 He laughed. Lena went up to the vessel. 
 
 " You have done all this since I was here 
 last," she said. " I shall be sorry when it is 
 finished, for then you will go." 
 
 " I have the greatest mind to take you with 
 me." 
 
 " Not without papa !" 
 
 " There 's not room for papa."
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 185 
 
 " Then I can't come." 
 
 " You won't always say that, little lady," re- 
 turned the sailor. 
 
 " No, indeed," said Mr Fleming with a half 
 sigh. 
 
 " Le bon temps viendra" said the sailor, laugh- 
 ing at Lena's puzzled countenance. 
 
 " I shall go up and talk to Giovanna," said 
 Lena, observing the old woman knitting in the 
 verandah of the chalet. 
 
 " I will stay here, for I can't talk to her," said 
 Cecil, seating herself on a rock. Mr Fleming 
 and the sailor sat down near her. 
 
 " Oh ! — by the way," said Mr Fleming, " you 
 know something of the family of the Duke of 
 Axminster." 
 
 " Who, I ? " — returned the sailor, quickly. 
 
 " I thought you said the other night you had 
 heard that history from one of his family." 
 
 a Oh! — ay — I have met them abroad." 
 
 " What a very sad affair that was about his 
 eldest son !" said Mr Fleming. " I heard some
 
 186 LENA 
 
 people talking about it in the library this 
 morning." 
 
 " What was that ? " asked the sailor. 
 
 " Only that the duke has been as unlucky in 
 his family as the ancestor you were telling us 
 about; with this difference, .that instead of a 
 daughter it was his son, who married against 
 his will." 
 
 "I can't see how any man can marry to please 
 another," said the sailor. " I can't imagine two 
 people looking with the same eyes on such a 
 step." 
 
 " In our rank those matters are very easily 
 arranged," said Mr Fleming; "but the eldest 
 son of a duke ! I can understand his father's 
 mortification." 
 
 " I dare say," replied the sailor. 
 
 " Was it a marriage, I wonder ? " inquired Mr 
 Fleming. 
 
 "Why — Lord John is not recognised as the 
 marquis," said the sailor. 
 
 "True ! — it must have been," said Mr Flem-
 
 OK THE SILENT WOMAN. 187 
 
 ing. "And then they say the grandson causes 
 the duke so much anxiety." 
 
 " Infinite," said the sailor, coolly. 
 
 " Do you know any harm of him?" asked 
 Cecil, who was completely puzzled by the care- 
 lessness of the sailor's manner. 
 
 " I know good and bad of him, as of other 
 people," he answered, with the same indiffer- 
 ence. 
 
 "And what had he done to offend the duke ? " 
 asked Cecil. 
 
 " He was born, and he clid'nt die," replied 
 the sailor, idly throwing pebbles towards the sea. 
 
 " I suppose the duke is anxious that Lord 
 John should succeed him," said Mr Fleming: 
 "he is certainly a most aristocratic person." 
 
 " I don't know him," said the sailor. 
 
 Cecil made something of a grimace. 
 
 " What is your advice on the subject, signo- 
 rina ? " asked the sailor. 
 
 " I dislike Lord and Lady John heartily," she 
 exclaimed ; for she could never hear their names
 
 188 LENA 
 
 with composure. " I think he is a poor crea- 
 ture : it is pitiable to see him on horseback. 
 And she is a spiteful, cold-hearted woman. She 
 has made herself hated in the country, and I 
 am glad of it." 
 
 " My dear Cecil ! " remonstrated Mr Fleming, 
 half laughing. 
 
 " Yes, uncle — it 's true ! " Cecil affirmed. " As 
 I said to Lena this morning, I detest the whole 
 Dawbeney set ! " 
 
 She stopped, for she caught the sailor's eyes 
 fixed on her with a smile, as if to say, " all of 
 them ? " and, remembering her suspicions, she 
 coloured crimson. 
 
 Mr Fleming laughed at her vehemence. The 
 sailor went on throwing pebbles. 
 
 "By the way, talking of the grandson, I won- 
 der where he is now ? " said Mr Fleming. 
 
 " Who knows ! — perhaps at Grand Cairo," 
 replied the sailor. 
 
 " What are you talking about ? " asked Lena, 
 who came down from the chalet at the moment.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 189 
 
 Cecil looked anxiously at the sailor to see 
 what he would answer. 
 
 " Talking about the heir of Wrexworth, as 
 they say in the romances," replied the sailor, 
 with a laugh — 
 
 " Is it a story? — tell it me," said Lena, sit- 
 ting down beside him. 
 
 " How did you get on with Giovanna," asked 
 the sailor. " She begins telling her beads di- 
 rectly you come in sight, as if you were a second 
 St Catherine" — 
 
 " But the story, sailor." 
 
 He looked at her for a moment, and then 
 said, laughingly, " The Silent Woman — too bad 
 of Ben Jonson ! " 
 
 " Why? " asked Mr Fleming. 
 
 " Don't you know ? — the silent woman turns 
 out to be a boy." 
 
 " You are the only person to whom Lena is 
 not silent," said Mr Fleming. 
 
 " How 's that, little lady?" asked the sailor. 
 
 Lena looked at him with a very puzzled ex-
 
 190 LENA 
 
 pression, and at last shook her head. She could 
 not tell, as none of us can tell, why we find 
 it easy to talk to some people, and not to 
 others. 
 
 " Is that your servant," asked the sailor, as a 
 man dressed in black advanced towards them 
 with a letter in his hand. 
 
 " No," replied Lena, "he is coming to you." 
 
 The man, after hesitating a moment between 
 Hurst and Mr Fleming, turned to the former, 
 and asked him, respectfully, "if he was the gen- 
 tleman who lived in that cottage," pointing to 
 the chalet. 
 
 He assented, with some little surprise. 
 
 The man then offered him the letter, and 
 " begged to know whether he was to wait for an 
 answer." 
 
 The sailor glanced at the direction, and re- 
 plied, briefly " Some mistake — it is not for me." 
 
 " I hope, sir, you will excuse me," said the 
 man, lowering his voice, " but I was directed by 
 his grace to leave that letter in the hands of the
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 191 
 
 gentleman residing here, whatever name he 
 might bear." 
 
 The sailor seized the letter and crushed it in 
 his hand, saying, with an impatient gesture, 
 
 " Very well — that 's enough: you have done 
 your errand." 
 
 "And no answer, sir? " asked the servant. 
 
 " No reply whatever ! " he exclaimed, im- 
 petuously. 
 
 The man, looking as if he expected the earth 
 to open and swallow them both for this act of 
 audacity, bowed, and withdrew. 
 
 Hurst threw himself down on the beach close 
 to Lena, and employed himself in tearing the 
 letter into pieces, without having opened it, after 
 having carefully examined the seal. 
 
 " That 's all your doing, little lady," he said 
 at last. 
 
 " Mine, sailor ! " exclaimed Lena, looking at 
 him with wondering eyes. 
 
 " Yours," he replied, scattering the last pieces 
 of paper towards the sea.
 
 192 LENA, 
 
 " I don't understand," said Lena. 
 
 " And I can't explain," he replied. 
 
 " I think, sailor, you are in a wicked temper," 
 said Lena, after a pause. 
 
 " I think I am, little lady," he replied, laugh- 
 ing, and starting up. "Come, what shall we do?" 
 
 " "Walk home with us," said Lena. 
 
 "What, you are friends with me, then?" he 
 asked. 
 
 It was all as clear as daylight to Cecil : she 
 only wondered how her uncle Fleming could be 
 so blind. 
 
 Hurst was supporting Lena over the rocks. 
 She skimmed like a fairy from one fragment to 
 another, stopping when any piece of seaweed 
 attracted her eye. Hurst was never weary of 
 gathering what she fancied, and twenty times, 
 on their road, they would come to a halt, empty 
 the little basket, and pack it with fresh treasures 
 dripping from the sea. 
 
 " Oh, sailor, look at my frock !" said Lena at 
 last, glancing with dismay at her wet dress.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 193 
 
 " It will not give you cold." 
 
 " No, but Dixon will be so cross with ine." 
 
 "Ah, Giovanna will not be cross with me," 
 said the sailor. 
 
 " Then, I hope, you are never cross with her?" 
 retorted Lena. 
 
 " I should think not," he replied. 
 
 "How they get on!" said Mr Fleming to 
 Cecil : "he must be very fond of children." 
 
 They were close to the house. Lena stopped 
 and looked up at her companion. 
 
 " Sailor, what was it that you said was all 
 my doing ? " she asked. 
 
 "Taking me to church, little lady," he re- 
 plied. 
 
 " And why did you tear the letter?" 
 
 " Because I was angry." 
 
 " Did you know who it came from?" 
 
 " Perfectly." 
 
 "And you won't tell me?" 
 
 " Oh, I will, if you will promise not to tell 
 again." 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 194 LENA, 
 
 Lena promised ; the sailor bent down and 
 whispered to her. 
 
 " There, now, we have a secret between us, 
 little lady," he said, laughing. 
 
 " Upon my word, I don't know what to say to 
 all this," said Mr Fleming, gaily. 
 
 " I don't know what that handsome young 
 fellow will say to it," said Hurst. 
 
 " Ay, we shall have a duel," said Mr Fleming. 
 
 Lena never could understand this kind of 
 banter ; she looked from one to the other, her 
 eyes growing large as stars. 
 
 Mrs Fleming appeared at the window, hold- 
 ing out a letter to Cecil. 
 
 " Oh, it 's from uncle Ned," said Cecil, open- 
 ing it ; " he 's coming to-morrovv r or next day. 
 Oh ! I 'm glad, and sorry too, for he will take 
 me back to Thornley." 
 
 " I don't know how we can spare you," said 
 Mr Fleming ; "we must persuade Mr Morland 
 to stay as long as we can. Lord Morland's 
 brother, — a most delightful person," he added, 
 for the benefit of the sailor.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 195 
 
 Cecil always winced at these remarks. Like 
 many girls, who are much with uncles and cou- 
 sins, she knew a good deal about the opinions 
 of men; and Mr Fleming's solicitude about people 
 of rank was, she knew, the very thing they 
 would most ridicule. 
 
 Lena looked very dismal, and followed her 
 cousin up stairs with drooping head. 
 
 Cecil threw aside her bonnet, and hugged her 
 little cousin in her arms. 
 
 " I shall be so sorry to go ! But never mind, 
 Lena, we shall meet again : Uncle Ned will take 
 care of that." 
 
 Lena returned her caress with tearful eyes. 
 
 " Oh ! what was it the sailor told you ?" asked 
 Cecil. 
 
 " I may not tell," said Lena ; " and I want so 
 much to ask you something — I will never have 
 a secret again ! "
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Don Ccesar. — De vos bienfaits je n'aurai nulle envie, 
 Tant que je trouverai vivant ma libre vie 
 Aux fontaines de l'eau, dans les champs le grand air; 
 
 Adieu ! done — de nous deux Dieu sait quel est le juste. 
 
 V. Hugo. 
 
 Lena had eyes for no one but Cecil the next 
 morning. Mr Rothmond and his Newfoundland 
 dog were loitering about the rocks in vain ; she 
 stood beside her cousin with a sad perseverance : 
 even the sailor came up to the garden wall with- 
 out her perceiving him, and Mr Fleming went 
 out, with his newspaper in his hand, to ask 
 him in. 
 
 " Lena ! " called Mr Fleming. 
 
 She went down hand in hand with Cecil to
 
 LENA, OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 197 
 
 the gate. There was a strain of distant music 
 coming slowly nearer, as if the west wind bore 
 it towards the sea. 
 
 " Something for you to look at, little lady," 
 said the sailor; "let me lift you on the wall." 
 
 " Mr Hurst very kindly stopped to tell you of 
 this procession," said Mr Fleming, " which he 
 overtook as he returned from D ." 
 
 "Oh, how very good! where 's Cecil?" ex- 
 claimed Lena, kneeling on the wall, supported by 
 the sailor. 
 
 " Here I am ; what is it?" asked Cecil. 
 
 " Only a troop of equestrians," said Hurst. 
 
 While they were speaking, a procession came 
 in sight, rising over the brow of the hill, and 
 winding along down the rugged highway. First 
 came a line of camels led by attendants sup- 
 posed to be Bedouin Arabs ; then horsemen and 
 women dressed in all kinds of spangled cos- 
 tumes ; then a gilt car, where enormous brazen 
 dragons with red mouths seemed to uphold a 
 crimson canopy, beneath which reclined an In-
 
 198 LENA, 
 
 clian prince, with a pipe in coils of crimson and 
 gold, as large as a boa constrictor. This extra- 
 vagant vehicle was drawn by two elephants, one 
 being of enormous size, on whose necks Indian 
 drivers were seated, with iron goads to direct 
 their course ; while keepers in the same Eastern 
 disguise walked at the head of each animal, 
 leading them by their enormous ears. 
 
 Behind the car came another fanciful con- 
 veyance filled with musicians, all dressed in the 
 most outrageous costumes. Some of these, when 
 they passed, threw handbills to the party, con- 
 taining a list of their performances, together 
 with the announcement that the elephants were 
 to be brought down to bathe in the sea that 
 evening at sunset. 
 
 Lena gazed with all her eyes as long as they 
 were in sight. She imagined it a procession 
 from the "Arabian Nights" — Haroun Al Raschid 
 taking an airing. 
 
 Mr Fleming decided on not taking them to 
 see the horsemanship. " There would be a
 
 Or, THE SILENT WOMAN. 199 
 
 crowd of all sorts of people," lie remarked to 
 Hurst ; " and he really could not answer it to 
 Lady Morland to take her niece to a show of 
 that kind." 
 
 Cecil bit her lips ; she dreaded her uncle 
 making any allusion to the Morland side of the 
 house. 
 
 " Oh, do stay with us, and see the elephants 
 bathe ! " pleaded Lena. 
 
 Mr Fleming joined his entreaties to those of 
 Lena. 
 
 " We are just going to our early dinner," he 
 urged : "if you have no engagements, why not 
 lounge away the afternoon here ? I have a box 
 of reviews and novels just come down, and Lena 
 shall cut the leaves for you." 
 
 There was no resisting this invitation ; but, 
 instead of cutting leaves, the sailor happened to 
 discover Lena's concertina, when they adjourned 
 to the drawing-room, and asked her to play ; 
 and when she had exhausted all her simple 
 tunes, and he had told her fifty times that she
 
 200 LENA, 
 
 played like a mermaid, he asked her to teach 
 him the notes. 
 
 They were sitting together on a sofa, at one 
 side of the open window. The rocks below, and 
 the sea tossing its foam among them at high 
 tide, were all in a blaze of sunlight, enhancing 
 the shade and the breezy coolness of the room. 
 
 Cecil was working with her aunt at a table 
 opposite, but a strange attraction kept her con- 
 stantly observing her cousin. She had such 
 pretty childish ways of teaching, and the sailor's 
 manner to her was so caressing, that it was a 
 struggle in Cecil's mind not to feel envious. 
 
 But she was a generous girl, and she was, 
 moreover, used to manage herself; which no one 
 since her mother's death had ever done for her. 
 
 "Why should I grudge her being liked and 
 attended to," she asked herself, "if she is more 
 pleasant than I am? I am sure, she is more 
 good. Why should not people take more notice 
 of her?" 
 
 She tried to keep her eyes on her embroidery.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 201 
 
 " There, I shall never learn it," said the sailor, 
 giving Lena back her concertina. 
 
 " But you have no patience, sailor." 
 
 "And you have so much." 
 
 " Listen, have you heard the Greek sailors 
 sing this chant ? " asked Lena, playing another 
 air. 
 
 "Yes, often." 
 
 " Why do you look at me, sailor?" said she, 
 simply. 
 
 " Because you have a face like the Virgin — 
 the Star of the Sea ! " 
 
 " Oh ! what a pretty name ! " 
 
 "Is it not?" 
 
 " Sailor," she said, lowering her voice, " do 
 you know the duke ? " 
 
 " Never saw him in my life." 
 
 "Yes, at church." 
 
 " True : never but that once." 
 
 "Then why did he write to you?" 
 
 "That is best known to himself, little lady." 
 
 " You would have known if you had read his 
 letter, perhaps?"
 
 202 LENA, 
 
 " I wish I could make it all out," said Lena. 
 
 " Ah ! there I 'm stranded, little lady. I can- 
 not explain it to you ; it 's a long story. Show 
 me again how you play that chant." 
 
 " I can tell you something else," he said, after 
 a while. " The sun is going down, and the tide 
 is out, and you will soon have the elephants 
 here." 
 
 Lena started up joyfully, and ran to put on 
 her hat and cloak. 
 
 The number of people collected on this oc- 
 casion was quite surprising: it was not easy 
 to imagine where they all came from. Several 
 carriages from the neighbourhood were filled 
 with children, whom their parents had brought 
 to see the elephants, and were drawn up in a 
 line on the road that passed the villa. Lena 
 and Cecil were seated on the low stone wall at 
 the bottom of the garden, Mr Fleming and the 
 sailor standing beside them. Mrs Fleming was 
 seated in an arm-chair near the gate, carefully
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 203 
 
 wrapped in a large shawl. Lena was in that 
 quiet ecstasy which any little pleasure was cer- 
 tain to produce in her mind: her luminous 
 eyes were constantly directed along the road to 
 watch for the elephants. 
 
 " Well, little lady, are they coming ?" Hurst 
 asked her. 
 
 " Not yet," she whispered. 
 
 " That is Sir Tressel Rothmond's carriage," 
 said Mr Fleming, as it drew near the villa. 
 
 Mr Rothmond stopped the postilions, and 
 spoke to his father ; evidently about the Flem- 
 ing party. 
 
 Sir Tressel smiled rather compassionately, as 
 if he thought him very childish, and gave him 
 a little push on the shoulder. The boy sprang 
 out of the carriage, without waiting for the 
 steps to be let down. Sir Tressel started forward, 
 half frightened ; Mr Rothmond turned round 
 and laughed at him, and the carriage drove on. 
 
 " So you are on the look-out for the ele- 
 phants," said Mr Rothmond to Lena; "they
 
 204 LENA, 
 
 will pass close to you : shall you not be 
 afraid?" 
 
 "No," replied Lena. 
 
 " Because I am here to take care of you ?" 
 
 " And papa, and Mr Hurst." 
 
 " And I." 
 
 " You too. Sailor, I wish they would come." 
 
 Hurst went out into the road to look for them. 
 
 " They are just in sight, little lady," he said 
 at last. Lena clapped her hands. 
 
 The elephants now came slowly up the road, 
 led by their Indian attendants. The first was 
 an immense creature, vast and misshapen, like 
 some antediluvian being ; the other, two or 
 three feet shorter than his companion. 
 
 The sailor and Mr Rothmond were outside 
 the wall, and Lena wanted them to come in, for 
 fear the elephants should step on them. They 
 laughed at her fears : Hurst would not move, 
 but she persuaded Mr Rothmond to sit beside 
 her on the wall. 
 
 It was now low tide, and there was a great
 
 OK THE SILENT WOMAN. 205 
 
 crowd of common people on the sands. The 
 elephants went down the rocky beach orderly 
 enough, but as soon as they touched the sand 
 they broke away from their keepers, and trotted 
 briskly to the sea, the people screaming and 
 scattering in all directions. It was a stately 
 sight to see them walk till the water reached 
 their shoulders, and then, with a solemn bend 
 forward, breast the waves, sinking till nothing 
 but a round black mass appeared above the 
 water, marking the position of their heads, with 
 the end of the trunk raised far out in front. 
 You might suppose a cask floating just on the 
 surface of the sea, as those huge heads moved 
 slowly onward. The keepers, in boats, with 
 their goads kept heading the animals, that they 
 might not go out too far from land. 
 
 " Did you ever see an elephant before, 
 signorina ? " asked Hurst, who was leaning on 
 the wall between Rothmond and Lena. 
 
 " No ; but the pictures are so like them, that 
 I don't feel as if I was seeing anything new," 
 replied Cecil.
 
 206 LENA, 
 
 " I have seen camels before," said Lena, " but 
 not elephants. I should like to see an alpaca : 
 papa has a picture of them at home." 
 
 " What are they like ?" asked Cecil. 
 
 " Not like a sheep, nor like a goat, nor like a 
 deer," said Mr Fleming ; " a sort of nondescript 
 fleecy animal, that takes Lena's fancy amazingly: 
 she is always wishing for an alpaca." 
 
 "Where are they to be had, little lady?" 
 asked the sailor. 
 
 " In South America," replied Lena. 
 
 "Why, that's rather far to go for a pet," 
 said Hurst. 
 
 As they were talking, a carriage and four, 
 with outriders, dashed down the road, and 
 drew up suddenly, just beneath the wall. 
 
 Cecil recognised at a glance the silver hair 
 of the Duke of Axminster, and her old enemies 
 the Dawbeney girls : they had persuaded their 
 grandfather to bring them all the way from 
 Wrexworth to see the elephants. 
 
 " There ! I do believe it 's all over — I knew 
 we should be too late I " exclaimed Adela.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 207 
 
 " Grandpapa was so long taking his nap," 
 said Emily, laughing. 
 
 " Where are they ? Oh ! in the sea, I de- 
 clare," said Adela, peevishly; " and I wanted to 
 look at them close." 
 
 "In the sea, are they?" said Emily; "it's 
 all one to me, I only wanted the drive." 
 
 The duke, leaning far back in the carriage, 
 appeared not to hear or see anything that was 
 passing. Some people, who knew him by sight, 
 paid him the respect of taking off their hats as 
 they went by ; and then he raised his thin white 
 hand mechanically to his hat, in return for 
 their salutation. 
 
 Mr Rothmond, directly he beheld his fair 
 cousins, slid off the wall, and went to sit on the 
 grass close by Mrs Fleming's chair; where he 
 was screened from observation by the rest of 
 the party. Lena was about to call to him, but 
 he made her an imploring sign: he had a ludi- 
 crous horror of those girls. 
 
 The Misses Dawbeney were now so very close
 
 208 LENA, 
 
 to Cecil that they could not fail to perceive her ; 
 and she observed them whispering to each 
 other and glancing a t her. 
 
 She had no mind to court their notice, and 
 with the utmost indifference, she busied herself 
 in looking through Mr Fleming's opera-glass at 
 the elephants, who were now beginning to 
 spout a shower of water through their trunks. 
 To her surprise, Hurst began to talk fast to her ; 
 as some people do when embarrassed by the 
 presence of another person whom they do not 
 care to recognise. She observed, too, that the 
 duke was now sitting upright, and looking 
 earnestly at Hurst through his double eye-glass. 
 She felt more assured than ever of his relation- 
 ship to the duke, and she waited with eager 
 curiosity to see what would come next. 
 
 Hurst took the opera-glass from her hand, and 
 adjusted it. 
 
 " A telescope would do better, signorina," he 
 said : " can you look through a telescope ?" 
 
 "Yes, I have learned since I have been
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 209 
 
 here," said Cecil, " but Lena cannot : she sees 
 only her eyelashes." 
 
 " They are too long, little lady," said Hurst, 
 leaning across to Lena. 
 
 " How would it be if I cut them, mamma?" 
 said Lena. 
 
 " Oh ! my dearest, your eyelashes ! what 
 would papa say ? " exclaimed Mrs Fleming. 
 
 " Don't you know they are a beauty ? " asked 
 Hurst. 
 
 " They are in my way sometimes : they get 
 into my eyes," said Lena, quietly. 
 
 At that moment one of the duke's footmen 
 came up to Hurst, and, touching his hat, said 
 that his grace begged to speak with him a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 Cecil, who had never seen Hurst anything 
 but perfectly frank and good humoured in his 
 manners, was astonished at the haughty air 
 with which he replied, — 
 
 " The duke mistakes me for some other per- 
 son. I have not the honour of his acquaintance." 
 
 vol. i. o
 
 210 LENA, 
 
 The man went back, and Hurst turned com- 
 pletely away from the duke's carriage, and be- 
 gan to talk to Mr Fleming, who was standing 
 within the wall. 
 
 Cecil watched the duke as the footman gave 
 him Hurst's answer. He sank back again, and 
 dropped down his eyeglass with a disappointed 
 air. The curiosity of his amiable grand-daugh- 
 ters was very much excited. 
 
 " La ! that 's the handsome man we saw in 
 the church ! " 
 
 "Do you know him, grandpapa?" 
 
 " Did you send him a message by Evans?" 
 
 " Do you know his name?" 
 
 " What a fine figure he has !" 
 
 They attacked the duke on either side with 
 these questions, without caring the least to 
 lower their voices so that the sailor might not 
 hear them. 
 
 " There ! there ! my dears — never mind : it 
 does not concern you!" said the duke, irrit- 
 ably. Then, taking a sudden resolution, he
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 211 
 
 called the servant again, had the steps let down, 
 and got out of the carriage. 
 
 Cecil was sitting with her face towards the 
 duke, Hurst looking the other way. To her 
 childish fancy the duke had the look of a des- 
 potic sovereign, as he came slowly forward : he 
 possessed in an eminent degree that air of race 
 which the French writers seem to appreciate so 
 keenly, and which still lingers in some few 
 English families of condition. 
 
 Cecil made the sailor a little sign, and said, 
 in a low tone, " The duke is coming towards 
 you, Mr Hurst." 
 
 He suddenly flushed, and knit his brows ; 
 and then, with that peculiar manner she had 
 never seen before, he turned slowly round and 
 faced the duke, waiting for him to speak. The 
 duke began : " Allow me to name myself to 
 you, sir, as the Duke of Axminster. I believe 
 I have the pleasure of speaking to a very near 
 relation." 
 
 He meant to be conciliating, but Hurst re- 
 plied in the same unbending manner :
 
 212 
 
 " Your grace has been misinformed : I de- 
 sire to claim no connexion whatever with your 
 house." 
 
 " Sir," said the duke, " this is not a time to 
 enter into any discussion on the subject. You 
 will do me a favour if you will call upon me at 
 your earliest convenience." 
 
 " My station and my habits equally unfit me 
 for such an honour," said Hurst, growing more 
 stately at every word ; " and as I have no claims 
 to urge upon your grace, you will permit me to 
 decline your proposal." 
 
 He had taken off his hat when he began to 
 speak to the duke ; he now replaced it, as if to 
 close the conference. 
 
 Cecil had forgotten all about the elephants in 
 the interest of the scene; but just as Hurst 
 finished speaking, the largest elephant, who had 
 been irritated at having his bath interrupted 
 (for his keepers had driven him out of the sea 
 with their prongs), set off at full speed up the 
 road, with his trunk in the air, uttering a
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 213 
 
 succession of horrible explosions, in sign of 
 anger. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr Hurst— the elephant ! " cried Cecil. 
 
 She was just in time : the animal was almost 
 at the duke's shoulder. Hurst threw open the 
 wicket, and drew the duke within the gate. At 
 the same moment the horses in the carriage 
 reared and plunged violently. Hurst and Mr 
 Fleming rushed towards them at the same 
 moment, but the horses turned sharp round, 
 and overturned the carriage on the side of the 
 bank. 
 
 The girls behaved with great spirit. Emily, 
 whose nerves were about the consistence of 
 packthread, did nothing but laugh ; and Adela 
 sat with closed lips and a white face, resolving 
 not to utter a sound. There was a dead silence 
 for a minute; then Hurst appeared above the 
 bank, carrying Adela, and Mr Fleming with 
 Emily hanging on his arm. The duke had fallen 
 into Mrs Fleming's arm-chair, which she offered 
 him when he was so unceremoniously hurried
 
 214 LENA, 
 
 into her garden. The two girls rushed up to 
 him and kissed him, both at the same time. 
 
 "We are not much hurt, grandpapa," said 
 Emily. " Were you frightened ? " 
 
 "Very much, my dear," was the duke's answer. 
 
 " My shoulder pains me ; and all down my 
 arm," said Adela. 
 
 " Pray allow me to look at it : I may do 
 something to relieve you," said Mrs Fleming. 
 
 Lena, with her wistful eyes, had come up to 
 see if she could be of any use. 
 
 " There — go, my dear," said the duke : " this 
 lady will be so kind as to look to you." 
 
 " For my part, I thought it great fun," said 
 Emily, lingering behind for a moment. " One 
 of the postilions is stunned, but not Joseph : 
 the one with the black eyes." 
 
 " Eyes ! " exclaimed the duke, looking indig- 
 nantly at his granddaughter. " What business 
 have you to know that a postilion has eyes ? " 
 
 " I wonder how he could see to drive us with- 
 out," she muttered, turning to follow her sister:
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 215 
 
 then suddenly looking back, she said, " I sup- 
 pose it 's beneath me to ask what has become of 
 that good-looking sailor, who so politely came 
 to our assistance : nobody is to be handsome 
 but dukes and marquises ;" and with this grace- 
 ful retort she left the room. 
 
 " True," said the duke, suddenly rising ; 
 "that young man, the sailor to whom I was 
 speaking — will you do me the favour to let him 
 know I desire to see him ? " 
 
 Mr Fleming went out into the verandah, but 
 he was gone. 
 
 " If I could be of any use in sending a mes- 
 sage to Mr Hurst," suggested Mr Fleming. 
 
 "Thank you; I think I'll write," said the 
 duke. "And yet — no — we must meet." 
 
 He put aside the writing materials Mr Flem- 
 ing had laid before him, and remained leaning 
 his head on his hand. Mr Fleming went again 
 to the verandah. 
 
 " Why, Fleming, what 's the matter here ? " 
 said a voice from the darkness. " Whose car- 
 riage is this blocking up the road ? "
 
 216 LENA, 
 
 "Is that Mr Morland?" asked the duke— 
 " the very man I most wished to see ! " 
 
 ' 'Anything I can do for your grace," said 
 Mr Morland, coming in through the verandah 
 — " by the way, I trust you are not hurt ? " 
 
 "Not at all," said the duke; "but I am 
 anxious to consult you on the old affair. Can 
 you return with me to Wrexworth." 
 
 "Why — if Fleming will not think me too 
 cool," said Mr Morland. 
 
 Mr Fleming was eager to assure Mr Morland 
 that he should be happy to yield him to the 
 Duke of Axminster. He had now an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing two persons of the privileged 
 class together — of observing how they moved 
 and spoke : he looked on, entranced. 
 
 The duke took Mr Morland's arm, and led 
 him to the window. 
 
 " He is here : it seems he goes by the name of 
 Hurst. I saw him by the merest accident at 
 Wrexworth church," said the duke. 
 
 " I hope you liked his looks," said Mr Mor- 
 land.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 217 
 
 " He is singular ; but he has the Dawbeney 
 face," replied the duke. 
 
 " A will of his own, then," said Mr Morland, 
 laughing. 
 
 The duke made a gesture, as if it was past 
 all expression. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mrs Fleming, having taken the 
 young ladies to her dressing-room, was attend- 
 ing to Adela's shoulder, which was somewhat 
 bruised. 
 
 "Well, is there much the matter?" asked 
 Emily, coming in a little after the others. 
 " Oh ! Cecil, how do you do ? I fancied I saw 
 you, but I was not sure." 
 
 Cecil touched Emily's extended hand. 
 
 " Dear me, to be sure, it 's Cecil !" exclaimed 
 Adela, looking towards her : " have you left 
 Lady Morland?" 
 
 "As you see," returned Cecil; not much 
 pleased with the tone of her young acquaint- 
 ance, which much resembled the way she 
 might have put the same question to a lady's- 
 maid.
 
 218 
 
 LENA, 
 
 Lena stood by with a pitying face, holding 
 the balsam and Spanish wool for her mother. 
 
 "You are an heiress, are you not?" asked 
 Emily, turning suddenly towards her. 
 
 " An heiress ?" exclaimed Lena, opening wide 
 her gray eyes. 
 
 "My little girl does not understand you," 
 remarked Mrs Fleming. 
 
 " She will understand well enough one day !" 
 returned Emily, laughing. 
 
 " Who 's that knocking ?" asked Adela. 
 
 It was Mrs Dixon, who came to say that the 
 carriage was ready, and that the duke begged 
 to know if Miss Adela was well enough to go 
 home. 
 
 u Oh yes, say I'm coming — here, stay — please 
 fasten my dress first. Thank you a thousand 
 times," she added, turning to Mrs Fleming with 
 precisely the voice and manner she had used 
 to the maid; "you have really made me quite 
 comfortable." 
 
 "I'm sure we 're excessively obliged to you," 
 added Emily, taking the lead down stairs.
 
 OK THE SILENT WOMAN. 219 
 
 " Come, Adela, make haste : grandpapa is get- 
 ting into the carriage ! " 
 
 He was very welcome to get in, as far as 
 Cecil was concerned ; but she was not so well 
 pleased to see her uncle Ned get in after him, 
 before she could reach the garden gate. 
 
 He made her a friendly sign with his hand ; 
 but she was not so easily appeased : she was 
 very dignified all the evening.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Pen. — Are we 
 Allied to no infirmities ? — are our natures 
 More than men's natures ? — when we slip a little 
 Out of the way of virtue, are we lost ? — 
 Is there no medicine called sweet mercy ? 
 Pet. — Forgiveness meets with all faults. 
 
 BoNDUCA. 
 
 " Well, I think this poor room was honoured 
 last night ! " said Mr Fleming, when they met 
 at breakfast the next morning. " The Duke of 
 Axminster sitting in that very arm-chair ! " 
 
 " I hope I may use it all the same : it 's a pet 
 of mine," answered Mrs Fleming, who was more 
 intent on extracting a prawn from its shell than 
 in recalling the glories of the preceding day. 
 
 " I wonder how soon uncle Ned will come
 
 LENA, OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 221 
 
 from Wrexworth," said Cecil, who had not 
 quite recovered her composure. 
 
 " Perhaps this note may tell us," replied Mr 
 Fleming, taking one which his servant brought 
 on a salver. " I think it is Mr Morland's hand." 
 
 " Read, papa!" exclaimed Lena. 
 
 Mr Fleming read : — 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I am off for Staffa this morning, as I 
 have no mind for a second interview with the 
 Duke of Axminster. My only regret is that I 
 cannot take leave of you and Mrs Fleming in 
 person. Make my adieux to your beautiful 
 children, and believe me, 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 HURSTMONCEAUX. 
 
 Mr Fleming read the signature as if it had 
 been written in capital letters, and fell back in 
 his chair.
 
 222 LENA, 
 
 " Dear me !" exclaimed Mrs Fleming, " he 
 means to go to Staffa ! " 
 
 Lena looked out of the window, and, after a 
 little trembling of the lip, began stealthily to 
 wipe her eyes. 
 
 " Hurstmonceaux!" repeated Mr Fleming, still 
 gazing on the leaf of paper that had dropped 
 on his plate. 
 
 " Yes ;" remarked Cecil, carelessly, " I always 
 imagined that was about his standing. You 
 know I told you so, Lena, the first time we 
 saw him." 
 
 Lena could not answer. 
 
 " Why, my little Lena," exclaimed Mrs Flem- 
 ing, putting her arm round her. 
 
 " Oh ! she will see her friend again one day," 
 said Mr Fleming, in a joyous tone. " My dear," 
 he added in a low voice to his wife, " singular, 
 is it not ? — You could not but observe the no- 
 tice he always took of her. More strange things 
 have come about, eh ? " 
 
 Mrs Fleming smiled, and gently shook her 
 head.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 223 
 
 " Uncle Ned at last ! " cried Cecil, going to- 
 wards him, with rather a stately air. 
 
 " At last ! " repeated Mr Morland ; " why, I've 
 breakfasted, and come all the way from Wrex- 
 worth : I think myself very early." 
 
 Mr Fleming was very earnest in his inquiries 
 after the duke. 
 
 " I believe he is pretty well : I did not see 
 him this morning. We are to take Wrexworth 
 on our way home, Cis, for a day or two ; and 
 Lady John is coming to call on you to-day, my 
 dear Mrs Fleming, with something of a petition 
 for the little Madonna." 
 
 Lena looked frightened. Mr Fleming was 
 almost in paradise. 
 
 He had some business to transact, he told Mr 
 Morland, which would take him about an hour, 
 after which he would be quite at his service. 
 
 " Don't hurry," said Mr Morland, " I '11 take 
 a walk with my niece. Run, Cis, and put 
 on your bonnet." 
 
 Cecil dressed with much satisfaction : her
 
 224 LENA, 
 
 uncle would now see her looking as she ought 
 to do. She tied on her broad hat, and ran 
 gaily down the steps. 
 
 Her uncle turned and confronted her as they 
 stood together close to the shallow waves. 
 " Well, Cis, you are looking hearty," he said. 
 " Hearty !" she echoed. Her face grew crim- 
 son with indignation. 
 
 " A little sun-burned," he added; "but you 
 have grown a foot : if you don't take care, 
 child, you will out-top me." 
 
 Her smiles came back at this remark. 
 "I'm sure I don't wish to go to Wrexworth, 
 uncle," she said, when they had walked a little 
 farther. 
 
 " Ay, you did not wish to come here," he 
 returned ; "yet you seem to have made it out 
 pretty comfortably." 
 
 " So I have, uncle : I am very glad I came 
 now. I love Lena, — oh ! a great deal better 
 than Lou and Hen." 
 
 " Do you? — that's odd," he said smiling.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 225 
 
 " I did not know, uncle, that you were ac- 
 quainted with the Duke of Axminster." 
 
 " It 's possible I may know two or three 
 people whom I have not spoken to you about," 
 he returned, laughing. 
 
 " But, uncle, I like you to tell me every- 
 thing." 
 
 " Very well : first tell me how came Fleming 
 to know Lord Hurstmonceaux ? " 
 
 Cecil told him. 
 
 " So far so good ; and where is he now?" 
 
 " Gone to Staffa this morning," replied Cecil. 
 
 " Slipped his cable ! " exclaimed Mr Mor- 
 land, with a gesture of disappointment. 
 
 " Literally, uncle : gone off in a little yacht 
 that he built himself." 
 
 " That he built ? — is the man a shipwright ?" 
 
 "That he helped to build. Oh ! there was such 
 a scene last night between him and the duke ! " 
 
 " So I hear." 
 
 " I know all about it." 
 
 " Little pitchers," remarked her uncle. 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 226 LENA, 
 
 " Now, sit down, uncle, and tell me the 
 whole history." 
 
 " Which you know." 
 
 "Yes, it will amuse me to hear the par- 
 ticulars : I only know the outline." 
 
 They sat down on the beach. 
 
 " It lies in a nutshell, Cis. The late marquis 
 chose to marry his tutor's daughter ; so the duke 
 cut him off with a shilling : that is, with five 
 hundred a -year ; thinking, very properly, such 
 was exactly the income suited to the rank of 
 life he had entered." 
 
 " I thought it was the woman, and not the 
 man, uncle, whose rank was altered by mar- 
 riage," said Cecil. 
 
 " Mostly : but the duke liked to take the 
 other view; and if you ever should become 
 intimate with that family, you will find they 
 are very apt to have and to hold their own 
 ideas on every subject." 
 
 "Well, uncle—" 
 
 "Well, they both went to Italy upon their
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 227 
 
 marriage : for, though I think the duke was 
 very handsome, considering all things, five 
 hundred a-year is not exactly the sum to 
 make a figure on in London; especially if 
 you are a duke's eldest son." 
 
 " And did he not try to be reconciled ?" 
 " Oh yes ! — all selon les regies. After hav- 
 ing indulged his own wishes to the utmost, 
 thwarted all his father's plans, and allied him 
 to a clan of tradespeople — for the tutor was the 
 gentleman of his family — he says, 'Now that 
 I have quite accomplished my own desires, I 
 am very ready to comply with all yours ; and 
 I hope you will forgive and forget.' '" 
 "And so he ought, you know, uncle." 
 " So he would, if his son had set to work in the 
 proper way ; but the marquis went on boreing 
 with his attempts for the first year or two, and 
 then gave it up in despair. I told him to do just 
 the contrary ; when, after a few years, the duke 
 would have been only too happy to come to terms ; 
 but just when his irritation was strongest — How-
 
 228 LENA, 
 
 ever, Cis, it 's as well for you to know that 
 people always act in this manner ; and, of course, 
 they reap the consequences." 
 
 " And now they both are dead," said Cecil. 
 
 "Ay, Cis ; and see how the whirligig of time 
 brings about his revenges," said Mr Morland, 
 laughing. "The duke wants to come round, 
 now. His son's death shocked him, and the 
 wife's, I suppose, pleased him, and in this soft- 
 ened frame he wanted to embrace his grandson ; 
 but the grandson won't be embraced. Things 
 always fall out so." 
 
 "And how do you come to be mixed up in 
 this affair, uncle?" 
 
 " Why, . it chanced, Cis, that three or four- 
 and-twenty years ago, I was not quite so wise 
 as I am now, and I took just the same fancy to 
 the lady as my friend Hurstmonceaux : we were 
 reading together with her father in the vaca- 
 tion. She went, like most other women, to the 
 highest bidder; but the duke always felt a 
 strong regard for me, because I would very
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 229 
 
 gladly have saved his son from a mesalliance by 
 taking the lady myself." 
 
 u But that was for your own sake, uncle?" 
 
 " Exclusively : only people don't gauge you 
 by your merits, but by your convenience. If I 
 had saved my country, the duke would never 
 have given me a second thought ; if I had 
 baffled his son, he would have set no bounds to 
 his gratitude." 
 
 " And why did the duke take you back with 
 him last night ? " 
 
 " Certainly that was a liberty ; to judge by 
 your face, Cis," said her uncle, laughing. " Well, 
 you must know that, about eight months ago, 
 the duke learned from his bankers that the 
 money he allowed his son was no longer 
 claimed ; and, upon inquiry, they found that 
 the marquis and his wife had died, within a few 
 days of each other, of the same fever. Lord 
 Hurstmonceaux had taken the name of Hurst 
 (as you say his son did), and lived quite away 
 from the English ; sometimes at Naples, latterly
 
 230 
 
 at Genoa. I had been in the habit of corre- 
 sponding with him occasionally, and of execut- 
 ing little commissions for him in England. I 
 suppose the duke knew this, for he sent for me 
 to learn all he could about his son." 
 
 "Was he very much distressed, uncle?" 
 
 " Oh, very : people mostly are when a thing 
 is past all remedy. He was likewise much ha- 
 rassed about his grandson, and he thought it 
 likely I might know what had become of the son, 
 and how he lived : for he has never claimed his 
 father's allowance. At that time I knew no 
 more about him than the duke did ; but I have 
 since heard that his mother succeeded to a small 
 pittance on the death of her father : on which, I 
 suppose, he exists." 
 
 " I like that, uncle," said Cecil, all in a glow : 
 " I like his not touching a penny of the money, 
 after the duke had behaved so ill to his pa- 
 rents." 
 
 " It may be very well : but, of course, the 
 duke does not like the heir to his name to be
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 231 
 
 living under a hedge ; and so he applied to me 
 to undertake the part of mediator; thinking that, 
 as I had been a friend of the father, I might have 
 a chance of success. I 'm heartily glad he 's off; 
 for I should have done nothing with him, and 
 one does not like to fail." 
 
 " Lena could, uncle : he always did what she 
 told him." 
 
 " That 's very odd. Bless my soul ! how de- 
 lighted Fleming would be if " he stopped 
 
 short. 
 
 Cecil turned away her head, and laughed to 
 herself. At her age, girls are often as quick- 
 sighted as they ever will be. She knew per- 
 fectly all Mr Fleming s wishes and anticipations ; 
 she could see that her aunt's views were much 
 more limited, as clearly as if she had been 
 thirty. 
 
 The gentlemen were out when Lady John 
 Dawbeney called. She brought her eldest daugh- 
 ter, and was very cordial in the expression of 
 her thanks to Mrs Fleming for her assistance 
 after the accident. Her manners were not very
 
 232 LENA, 
 
 condescending ; and as her figure was tall, with- 
 out beinjy fine, her movements were somewhat 
 gaudies. Mrs Fleming was so quiet and unaf- 
 fected, that Lady John, finding nothing to re- 
 press in her manners, became quite friendly, 
 and would take no denial when she invited 
 Lena to accompany her cousin for two days to 
 Wrexworth. Lena, who was seated on a has- 
 sock, her arms round her concertina, which 
 rested on her knees, turned her large eyes from 
 Cecil to her mamma, but said not a word. 
 
 Mrs Fleming accepted for her. 
 
 Cecil, all this time, sat working a purse in 
 crochet, and searching in her aunt's basket for 
 different implements. 
 
 Miss Dawbeney stared at her slowly, begin- 
 ning at the rich clusters formed by the thick 
 plaits at the back of her head, and finishing 
 with the slender high-bred foot, set off by her 
 well-cut French brodequin. After that, she 
 turned to Lena, who sat crouched on her has- 
 sock, and said, carelessly : — 
 
 "You are coming to-morrow?"
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 233 
 
 Lena bowed her little head. 
 
 " You will find it dull. However, bring that 
 box with you, whatever you call it ; perhaps it 
 may amuse grandpapa." 
 
 "This?" said Lena, holding up her concer- 
 tina. 
 
 " Yes : Edgar was always talking of you and 
 your music." 
 
 " Who is Edgar?" asked Lena. 
 
 "My cousin Rothmond." 
 
 " I had rather not," said Lena. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because I don't know your grandpapa." 
 
 " How very odd!" said Emily. 
 
 Lady John was rising — 
 
 " I hope you left Lady Morland quite well," 
 she said, as she passed Cecil. This was the first 
 word she had spoken to her. 
 
 She replied only by a bow as dignified as she 
 could make it. 
 
 " I say, mamma," cried Emily, detaining her 
 mother, " she won't bring her box."
 
 234 LENA, 
 
 " My dear ! " said Lady John, looking rather 
 bewildered. 
 
 " This thing," said Emily, tapping the concer- 
 tina ; "I know grandpapa would like it." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Lady John, comprehending, " I 
 am sure my dear you will be so very kind : the 
 duke will be pleased, and my boys are so fond 
 of music." 
 
 Lena looked frightened, but she bowed humbly. 
 
 Cecil flung herself on a sofa in a great rage. 
 She had never seen such insolent people in her 
 life. It was a comfort to think how ugly they 
 were : certainly that did console her for a good 
 deal. She only wished uncle Ned had been 
 present ; he knew how to put people in their 
 right place. If it was not for Lena, she would 
 not go to Wrexworth at all. 
 
 Lena went up and kissed her. 
 
 " Don't take your accordion, Lena ! " ex- 
 claimed Cecil ; " don't do anything to please 
 them ! Her sons, indeed ! — her odious clowns 
 of boys ! She wants your money ! "
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 235 
 
 " I have not got airy, Cis," said Lena, simply. 
 
 Mrs Fleming could not help laughing. 
 
 " My dear Cecil," she said, " think how young 
 she is : we may let her money rest for some 
 time to come." 
 
 Mr Fleming's mind was filled with an anxiety 
 of a different kind. He was very much de- 
 lighted — comble : he felt extremely the honour 
 of Lena being asked to Wrex worth ; but it was 
 surely very unlucky : there was no time to pre- 
 pare anything fit for her to wear. 
 
 Mrs Fleming was agitated by no such doubts. 
 
 "They both look very nice, I think, Ernest," 
 she said, glancing at the two girls in their fresh 
 summer dresses. " I cannot see how changing 
 their clothes will make them more fit to go to 
 Wrexworth." 
 
 " Perfectly right, my dear madam," said Mr 
 Moiiand. 
 
 " Oh ! — if you think so, that is enough," re- 
 turned Mr Fleming. 
 
 Cecil and Lena sat down to play chess. Mrs
 
 236 LENA, 
 
 Fleming brought her work near, and looked 
 over them. 
 
 Mr Fleming and Mr Morland were pacing 
 slowly up and down the verandah. Gray and 
 dusk out of doors, the light of the lamp shone 
 softly on the players, and the slight figure of 
 Mrs Fleming, leaning over the arm of her deep 
 chair. 
 
 " Do you think Lena improved ? " asked Mr 
 Fleming. 
 
 " Yes : not that she wanted improving," re- 
 turned Mr Morland. 
 
 " I am glad you think so. I certainly wish 
 her to be good-looking," remarked Mr Fleming. 
 
 " I always told you she would be a beauty," 
 said Mr Morland : "not indeed to the vulgar 
 taste — but a Saint Catherine, or a Virgin of the 
 Crescent." 
 
 " I don't hesitate to say that I hope she may 
 form a connexion in a rank of life superior to 
 her own," said Mr Fleming : " with her fortune 
 she may even aspire to a nobleman ; but I should
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 237 
 
 wish, at the same time, that it was a marriage 
 of attachment." 
 
 "My dear Mr Fleming," said Mr Morland, 
 "when a girl has a hundred thousand pounds 
 to her fortune, all those minor considerations 
 are quite obliterated : I '11 engage that the 
 man who makes her a proposal shall care very 
 little for the colour of her hair. Now, what 
 should you say to me for a son-in-law ? " 
 
 Mr Fleming laughed. 
 
 " If any unforeseen event should summon my 
 nephew to a better world, you are aware that 
 I should succeed to the title : supposing always 
 that Morland had the consideration to die be- 
 fore me. What do you think of my chances ? " 
 
 " I am sure that if you were in earnest, you 
 would do me a great honour, and one that I 
 should weigh well before I rejected," said Mr 
 Fleming, smiling; " notwithstanding the differ- 
 ence in your age." 
 
 "Age again has so little to do with it," said 
 Mr Morland. " Of course T should require the
 
 238 
 
 greater part of her fortune to be placed at my 
 disposal, in return for the honour I conferred. 
 I should then set up a stud, and devote myself 
 to the turf ; I should build a yacht, and cruise 
 two years out of three ; I should have a moor 
 in Scotland, and cross to Norway for salmon- 
 fishing; and I should hardly know her by sight if 
 I met her in the street. No, my dear Mr Flem- 
 ing : a man of rank, who marries for money, 
 condemns his wife to a life of insult and disap- 
 pointment. Do not try to make your daughter 
 happier than her mother ; for, depend upon it, 
 you will never succeed ! " 
 
 Mr Fleming took the compliment, laughed, 
 and said that Lena should decide the point : 
 he would never force her inclination. 
 
 " If you want to marry her well, take my ad- 
 vice, and say nothing about her fortune," added 
 Mr Morland : "no man of sense marries a girl 
 with a fortune." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because she spends twice as much as she
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 239 
 
 brings, and looks down upon him into the 
 bargain." 
 
 "Yet women of fortune are almost the only 
 ones who do marry in these days," rejoined 
 Mr Fleming. 
 
 " But I hope you don't suppose men of sense 
 to be common," retorted Mr Morland, stepping 
 in at the window. 
 
 " Let us see which will win," said Mr Flem- 
 ing, sitting down to the chess-table. 
 
 Mrs Dixon was in a great ferment that night : 
 every chair and couch up stairs was covered 
 with frocks and mantles, and other articles of 
 finery ; she pulled and pushed Lena, and rat- 
 tled the ivory handles of the brushes more 
 vehemently than usual. 
 
 " Are you going too, Dixon ? " asked Lena, 
 with a sigh. 
 
 " I should think so, Miss Lena. I don't sup- 
 pose you could do for yourself, either." 
 
 " Cecil would fasten me," said Lena. 
 
 " Cecil would not, then ! begging your par-
 
 240 LENA, 
 
 don, Miss Fleming," cried Dixon. "You are 
 not going to Wrexworth to disgrace yourself, 
 Miss Lena!" 
 
 Cecil stood laughing in the doorway, with 
 all her golden hair falling over her. 
 
 "And there's a tooth broken out of your 
 beautiful comb, you naughty child ! and what- 
 ever have you done with all your handkerchiefs ? 
 there 's not one in the sachet ! " said Dixon, 
 tumbling over the drawers. 
 
 Lena's head grew bewildered at the slightest 
 bustle : she sat looking deplorable. 
 
 " Oh ! I know," exclaimed Cecil : " I turned 
 them out to look for something; I forget 
 what now. Let me come ; 1 11 put things to 
 rights." 
 
 " Look at your cousin, Miss Lena," said 
 Dixon, reproachfully : " That 's a young lady 
 who has got a head on her shoulders, and 
 knows what she is about; and what's more, 
 lets me brush her hair as hard as I like." 
 
 And Dixon, suiting the action to the word,
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 241 
 
 seized Lena's long tresses in one hand, and 
 commenced assaulting her with a large brush, 
 without appearing to heed her feeble expostu- 
 lations. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Wir haben lang genng geliebt 
 Und wollen endlich hassen. 
 
 G. Herwegh. 
 
 In which were okis grete, streight as a line, 
 Undir the^which the grass, so freshe of hew, 
 
 Was newly sprong 
 
 Every tre well fro his fellou grew, 
 With braunchis brode ladin with levis new, 
 That sprongin out agen the soune shene 
 Some very rede, and some a glad light grene. 
 
 Chaucer. 
 
 Me Fleming gave Cecil the most elegant little 
 enamelled watch and chain that could be pro- 
 cured, as a parting present. She took leave of 
 her uncle and aunt with great regret, trying to 
 stifle her tears because Mr Morland was looking 
 at her, and she was afraid he would remind her
 
 LENA, OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 243 
 
 with what unwillingness she had made the ac- 
 quaintance of the people she was now leaving 
 with so much emotion. 
 
 She employed herself as soon as she had re- 
 covered her composure, in directing Lena how 
 to behave at Wrexworth : how to repel the airs 
 of the Dawbeney girls, and to look coolly on 
 the advances of the Dawbeney boys. 
 
 Her uncle Ned listened behind his newspaper 
 with much pleasure. 
 
 " Thank you, Cis," he said, looking up at 
 last : "I'm so much edified, you can't think 
 what a useful lesson you have afforded me. I 
 shall know exactly what to do the next time a 
 lady makes an attack upon Scarbrook." 
 
 Lena, who had looked extremely puzzled 
 while Cecil had been talking, now took a little 
 box of filigree silver from her pocket, and 
 emptied the contents into her little hand. 
 
 There was a doubloon, a half-sovereign, an 
 old louis d'or, and two little stumpy Turkish 
 coins.
 
 244 LENA, 
 
 " That is all my money ;" she said, laughing. 
 "When I want any thing, mamma buys it 
 for me." 
 
 " This is Wrexworth, madonna," said Mr Mor- 
 land at last ; " take a good look at it : one day 
 it will belong to your friend Hurstmonceaux." 
 
 Lena stood up in the carriage by Mr Mor- 
 lancl, and looked all round. 
 
 They had just entered the park, and were 
 going gently down hill towards the house, a 
 large Gothic building, with steep hills behind it, 
 clothed with wood. 
 
 There was a sound of water, as if a cascade 
 was near them, hidden among the trees ; and 
 farther on, a diamond glitter among the boughs 
 marked the spot where a lake of some extent 
 lay, surrounded by thickets of hawthorn and 
 willows. Wide lawns and clumps of giant oaks 
 stretched in front of the principal entrance ; 
 the cedars for which Wrexworth was famed, 
 grew in the flower garden on the south side of 
 the house. Part of the carriage road was cut 
 through a wood, planted with American shrubs
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 245 
 
 and rare specimens of fern. The trees meeting 
 overhead, and the turf beneath, and flowering 
 shrubs appearing unexpectedly where a space 
 was cleared at the foot of some venerable tree, 
 made this drive very attractive to the young 
 people. Cecil wanted to get out and walk. 
 Lena thought she should like to gather fern ; but 
 Mr Morland was anxious to reach Wrexworth, 
 and he reminded them that they would have 
 plenty of time to explore the beauties of the 
 grounds, in company with the Misses Dawbeney. 
 
 " Pleasant !" said Cecil, shrugging her shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 Lena had already taken fast hold of Cecil's 
 hand, as a precautionary measure, and clung to 
 her as they passed the powdered footmen at the 
 entrance ; whom she contemplated as if they had 
 been two giants at the wicket of an enchanted 
 castle. She felt a sensation of awe at the dim, 
 cold hall, with its painted glass windows ; a 
 Greek statue, Justin front of her, with the head 
 bent, and the masterly drapery folded over the
 
 246 LENA, 
 
 breast ; some dingy armour on the walls ; and a 
 broad, solemn staircase in black oak, seen al- 
 most in twilight beyond a carved screen that 
 ran across the back of the hall. 
 
 Lady John and her daughters were seated at 
 work in a pretty morning room, with oriel win- 
 dows of coloured glass. Emily was trying to 
 scratch the panes with her crochet, and Adela 
 was dragging a little spaniel over the sofa 
 cushions. 
 
 The duke is so anxious to see you, Mr Mor- 
 land," said Lady John, when she had welcomed 
 the cousins. 
 
 " Oh ! grandpapa has been in such a state all 
 the morning !" said Emily ; "he was so cross 
 with Adela and me. Now, mamma, we can go 
 out in the park ? " 
 
 " Don't go too far, Emily ; you must not tire 
 your young friends," said Lady John. " You 
 are very delicate, my love, are you not ? " 
 
 "No, madam," said Lena, looking surprised. 
 
 u I think, Emily, you had better order the
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 247 
 
 pony phaeton. You don't look very strong, my 
 dear : you are not used to walk far, I dare say." 
 
 " Oh, very well, I don't care," said Emily, 
 pulling the bell. " Summers, the pony carriage. 
 And what are you going to do?" she asked, 
 looking carelessly to Cecil. 
 
 " That I do not yet know," said Cecil, who 
 had quietly seated herself, not a little surprised 
 at the attention Lady John paid to Lena, and 
 the total neglect she showed to herself. 
 
 "If you will come with me," said Adela, " I 
 will show you my silver pheasants." 
 
 "Thank you," said Cecil; and they went out 
 together. 
 
 " Here come my white mice, as Charles calls 
 them," said Emily : " they are so quiet, you 
 need not be afraid. Now, which way shall we 
 go?" 
 
 Lena found Emily much more agreeable than 
 she had expected. From an insolent coldness, 
 her manner changed at once to a perfect inti- 
 macy. This is quite a trait of the present gen-
 
 248 LENA, 
 
 eration : formerly people became acquainted by 
 degrees. 
 
 u Grandpapa does not show this morning : he 
 is l the invisible gentleman,' as Charles calls 
 him. He is in such a way about my cousin — 
 did you know that was Hurstmonceaux ? — that 
 young man who was with you : he 's the 
 strangest creature, 1 11 tell you about his father 
 and mother." 
 
 And Emily related to Lena the substance of 
 what Mr Morland had told Cecil the day before ; 
 interspersing her history with a good many say- 
 ings of her brother Charles, who appeared to be 
 considered as the wit of the family. 
 
 " What pretty dresses you always wear," said 
 Emily, diverging a little from her subject : "is 
 that an India muslin ? I suppose it cost mil- 
 lions : but then your father is so rich ! " 
 
 "Is he?" said Lena. 
 
 " So they say. Edgar is always talking of 
 you. I don't think he admires Cecil much : do 
 you think her pretty ? "
 
 Oil THE SILENT WOMAN. 249 
 
 " Cecil? beautiful!" exclaimed Lena. 
 
 " Hum!" we shall see what Charles says," re- 
 plied Emily : " but I had rather be rich than 
 ever so handsome." 
 
 "You live near Thornley, don't you?" said 
 Lena. 
 
 " Yes ; but though the Morlands are good 
 sort of people, they are not exactly visitable — 
 one meets nobody there. Mr Morland is differ- 
 ent : he is very much considered — he goes 
 everywhere. If you play your cards well, you 
 will occupy a very different position in society 
 from the Morland girls." 
 
 "Dear, I think them so very grand!" said 
 Lena, simply ; at which Emily laughed all the 
 way home. 
 
 As they went through the long dark gallery 
 up stairs, Emily stopped at a door. 
 
 "Let us go in and see grandpapa!" she said. 
 
 " I 'm afraid," said Lena, drawing back. 
 
 " Afraid ! " echoed her companion, with a loud 
 laugh; "why — because he is a duke? I say,
 
 250 LENA, 
 
 grandpapa," she exclaimed, bursting into the 
 room and pulling Lena after her, " here 's Lena 
 Fleming says she is afraid of you ! " 
 
 " No, my dear, you are not afraid of me, are 
 you?" said the duke, holding out his hand. 
 
 Lena walked gently up to him, and putting 
 her little hand into his, said : " No, sir ; but I 
 was afraid of coming into your room without 
 leave." 
 
 Her* truthful gray eyes seemed to please the 
 duke, who looked at her kindly, still holding 
 her hand. He was sitting with his feet upon a 
 broad faldstool, and a large rug or coverlet of 
 tiger-skins thrown over his knees. He made 
 room for her to sit down on the faldstool, and 
 she soon felt at her ease ; looking quietly up with 
 unbounded admiration at his fine head, and 
 gently touching the tiger-skin with the tips of 
 her fingers. 
 
 "You are a very good little girl," said the 
 duke, " and I am glad to see you. Emily, what 
 are you doing at my cabinet ? You will hamper 
 the lock."
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 251 
 
 " No, I shan't, grandpapa," said Emily, rat- 
 tling the key in the lock of a japan cabinet ; " I 
 know you have some Portugal plums in here, 
 and I want to get at them." 
 
 " No, my dear, there are none left. Don't, 
 Emily ; I can't bear to see you trying my keys 
 — there are no plums. This good little girl 
 looks quite ashamed of you!" said the duke, 
 patting Lena on the head. 
 
 Lena coloured deeply. Emily went on rat- 
 tling the lock, just as if her grandpapa had not 
 spoken. He seemed to give her up as a bad 
 job, for he turned to Lena. 
 
 " And they tell me you play on a very curious 
 instrument, my dear, — will you let me hear it ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir," she whispered. 
 
 "Emily shall see for it," he began. 
 
 But Emily had burst open the cabinet, and 
 found the box of plums. " I thought so !" she 
 exclaimed, running forward with it in her arms ; 
 "now I'll have a feast! Will you have some, 
 Lena? — have some, grandpapa? Oh, never
 
 252 LENA, 
 
 mind her accordion — we '11 have that after tea 
 — it will help to pass the evening." 
 
 She seemed to have her own way with the 
 duke, for he offered no opposition to her plans ; 
 and she sat in the window-seat, eating, with the 
 box on her knees. 
 
 "This is a curious rug, is it not, my dear?" 
 said the duke, observing Lena stroking the 
 tiger- skin. 
 
 u Yes, sir," she said, " and very comfortable if 
 you are cold." 
 
 " Yes, I 'm very old," said the duke. 
 
 Emily burst into a noisy laugh. 
 
 " I said cold, sir," said Lena, softly. 
 
 " I wish, Emily, you would cure yourself of 
 that horrid laugh ! " exclaimed the duke, irri- 
 tably. " I shall speak to Lady John about you : 
 and there you are, cracking the stones with your 
 teeth, you naughty girl ! " 
 
 Emily made a gesture of extreme derision 
 behind her grandpapa ; and Lena felt quite 
 wretched at being in the company of a wicked
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 25 o 
 
 girl, who mocked at an old man with such 
 white hair. But Emily, who had now eaten 
 as many plums as she could, became restless, 
 and seizing Lena by the arm, dragged her 
 off to dress for dinner. 
 
 " We all dine down stairs now, because grand- 
 papa is alone," said she: "I can tell you, you are 
 in high favour with the old gentleman. There 's 
 your room, and Cecil dressing already." 
 
 The cousins found the duke installed in the 
 drawing-room beneath his tiger -skin. He 
 greeted Cecil very kindly, and told her she 
 was very like her mother, whom he remem- 
 bered the beauty of her season. 
 
 Cecil smiled, blushed, and sat down by her 
 uncle. Lady John, looking up from her em- 
 broidery, asked her how she liked the aviary ; 
 she replied that she had been very much pleased 
 with it, and their conversation closed. 
 
 Mr Dawbeney made his appearance just be- 
 fore dinner, sauntering vacantly into the room. 
 Lady John presented him in a marked way
 
 254 LENA, 
 
 to Lena ; but he did not appear anxious to 
 follow up the introduction. 
 
 With the consequence of a boy of seventeen, 
 very weak and ignorant, and remarkably proud, 
 he liked to choose to whom he should talk, and 
 therefore addressed himself only to Mr Morland ; 
 who answered him tersely, and smiled to see how 
 stubbornly he opposed his mother's plotting. 
 
 Cecil declared afterwards to her uncle Ned 
 it was the dullest evening she had ever passed. 
 She was not then old enough to relish the 
 position of a bystander, which in after-years 
 she found so advantageous for studying the 
 game of life. Besides, she was just of the age 
 when girls are peculiarly sensitive to neglect, 
 and are not very likely to meet with any 
 other treatment. 
 
 Lady John really forgot she was in the 
 room, and talked with Mr Morland of their 
 mutual acquaintances. Her two daughters re- 
 clined in their chairs, working indolently. Mr 
 Dawbeney was apparently fast asleep. Lena
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 255 
 
 was sitting at the duke's feet, playing to him 
 on her concertina. Now, the duke had been 
 very anxious to see Lena, because he had 
 heard, through Mr Morland, that she had been 
 much associated with Lord Hurstmonceaux. 
 He had taken just that sort of liking to his 
 grandson that very wayward perverse people 
 sometimes take to those who are quite as wilful 
 and passionate as themselves. But almost the 
 only injunction Mr Fleming gave to his little 
 girl, was a solemn warning never to let any 
 allusion to the sailor pass her lips : so that 
 when the duke put her some leading question, 
 in the hopes of making her speak of him, she 
 was sure to stop in the middle of a sentence, 
 colour crimson, and look helplessly towards 
 Cecil for assistance. 
 
 " Charles, why did you not bring Edgar home 
 to dinner ?" asked Lady John, "it would have 
 been just in his way as he rode out with you." 
 
 " Oh ! I wish you had," said Adela. 
 
 " Because he was a good boy, and went home 
 to take care of his papa," said Mr Dawbeney,
 
 256 LENA, 
 
 waking up a little, and then falling fast asleep 
 again. 
 
 "He's a most amiable creature," said Lady 
 John. 
 
 " The most stupid fellow I know," said Mr 
 Dawbeney, yawning. 
 
 "I'm sure he 's very handsome," exclaimed 
 Emily, who seemed to prize that qualification 
 above all others. 
 
 Mr Dawbeney murmured some slang phrases, 
 importing that he despised Mr Rothmond's cast 
 of character ; and then slumbered again. 
 
 " If that means anything bad, it 's not true," 
 said Lena, looking indignantly up at the duke : 
 " I 'm sure he 's very kind, and very brave, 
 and picked me up out of the water ; and Mr 
 Hurst carried me home." 
 
 Then recollecting she had uttered the very 
 name she had been keeping back with so 
 much care, she coloured a beautiful carmine 
 over neck and brow, and dropped her head 
 down on her accordion. 
 
 "You are a very good little girl to stand up
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 257 
 
 for your friends," said the duke, stroking her 
 soft hair, " and you shall tell me all about it." 
 
 Lena looked up hesitating; but Lady John 
 skilfully interposed. 
 
 " I think, my dear duke, this little darling 
 must be quite tired. I dare say she keeps early 
 hours. She shall go to bed now, and her 
 little story will do nicely to-morrow." 
 
 Lena rose and bade the company good night, 
 and Cecil gladly accompanied her, for her 
 stock of patience was almost exhausted. 
 
 She had sat thinking of the old times when 
 Lady John lived next door to her mother, 
 and they were together most hours of the day : 
 she saw Lady John coming across the lawn 
 in her straw bonnet and white gown, with her 
 large silk work-bag, and her graceful mother 
 leaning out among the geraniums to welcome 
 her, in her fluttering summer dress of pale lilac ; 
 she was in Richmond Park again, sitting among 
 the fern with those two cold indolent girls, then 
 little eager things in their brown holland coats, 
 
 vol. I. R
 
 258 LENA, 
 
 gathering nosegays, and squabbling over their 
 doll's tea-cups, or hiding Laura from the nurses 
 among the trees. And all this was quite past 
 and gone, as if it had never been ; and of the 
 whole party she was the only one in whose 
 memory a trace of it remained. 
 
 She thought of one of her uncle Ned's axioms 
 — "Take people as you find them." " It 's rather 
 early to begin," she thought ; " and for my part, 
 I'd rather leave than take people when they 
 grow so odious. I 'm thankful we go away to- 
 morrow ; and I 'm not best pleased with uncle 
 Ned, talking and laughing with that hateful 
 woman, just as if nothing was the matter." 
 
 And when they were on their road to Thorn- 
 ley, she opened her mind to her uncle, to his 
 great amusement, and informed him how she 
 had been overlooked, and how shameful it was 
 in Lady John, and how impertinent in her 
 daughters. Her uncle went on reading a pam- 
 phlet, and smiling to himself all the time. 
 
 * Why, now, Cis," he said, looking up sud-
 
 OE THE SILENT WOMAN. 259 
 
 denly, as soon as she paused for breath, "just 
 ask yourself what these people could get out of 
 youV 
 
 "Dear me, uncle!" she said, "when you 
 know what friends Lady John used to pretend 
 to be with poor mamma, and we were all chil- 
 dren together, as if — " 
 
 " Well, and what can they make of that ? — 
 what pleasure can you give the girls? — what 
 good can you do the mother ? " 
 
 Cecil looked perplexed. 
 
 " The fact is, Cis, these people have no feel- 
 ings — very few people have : they don't want 
 society, as you would understand it : they want 
 solid benefits. Lena is the daughter of a man 
 of increasing wealth ; she may put money into 
 Lady John's pocket, you may not. You should 
 not be angry with the good woman for follow- 
 ing her nature ; it 's earthy : she wants gold 
 and silver : let her grub for it, in Heaven's 
 name, and don't rail at her because she does 
 not seek for tenderness, and old friendship, and
 
 260 LENA, OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 
 
 what not, for which she cares no more than she 
 does for the stars." 
 
 " I will care for the stars, uncle, always," 
 said Cecil : "I don't mean to grub in the earth, 
 because others do." 
 
 " That 's right, Cis ; now, you talk and I 
 read, and so we shall get nicely through our 
 journey."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 K. John. We must speed 
 
 For France, for France; for it is more than need. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Her uncle Morland was in the portico, smoking 
 a cigar. He came directly to the carriage-door 
 and handed her out, with many expressions of 
 pleasure. 
 
 " Oh ! uncle Morland, I am so happy to see 
 you again ! " she exclaimed, hanging on his arm. 
 " How are they all at home?" 
 
 " All well — my lady is within. You know 
 she is going abroad, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Going abroad, uncle ! " 
 
 " Yes — why surely Ned is in the secret. Oh ! 
 he is gone in : never mind ; come with me and 
 see the colt I am breaking in for you."
 
 262 LENA, 
 
 " And are you going too, uncle ? " 
 
 " No ; I 'm the exception : I have no taste 
 for foreign scenery." 
 
 " And what am I to do? — and what 's the use 
 of the colt, if I am going away ? " said Cecil, half 
 inclined to cry. " I shall die of ennui without 
 you and Basil." 
 
 "I'm heartily sorry for it, Cis ; but my lady 
 wants the girls to have all the talents, as the 
 French say. I thought, for my part, they could 
 play fast enough, and loud enough ; but my 
 lady knows best : I never interfere." 
 
 "And Basil, uncle?" 
 
 " Oh ! — what, you wish to know about Basil ? 
 He holds to his old crochet of going to Ger- 
 many : wants to study astrology. In my time 
 we studied nothing." 
 
 "I wish we could say as much, uncle," said 
 Cecil. " I have had such a holiday — so much 
 time to think and to observe — that I don't like 
 the idea of going back to words again." 
 
 " And Thorn ley is to be let," said Lord Mor-
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 263 
 
 land, opening the gate of the paddock where the 
 colt was feeding. 
 
 " I 'm sure I shall think it a great liberty of 
 anybody coming to live here after us," said Cecil. 
 
 " It is a liberty I can very well overlook — for 
 a consideration," said Lord Morland, laughing. 
 " But here comes my lady, and Ned with her : 
 I suppose they have finished their consultation." 
 
 Lady Morland welcomed Cecil with as much 
 warmth as she ever showed ; which, at the best 
 of times, was not much. 
 
 " I think Cis had better stay at home with 
 me," said Lord Morland : " she does not seem 
 to like the thoughts of her trip." 
 
 "We none of us prefer it, my dear lord," re- 
 plied Lady Morland ; "but we must move in the 
 path ordained for us, whether it is to Paris or 
 California. I 'm sure I wish to be taught to 
 make use of these journeys. Life, you know, is 
 a pilgrimage." 
 
 Lord Morland, who had disposed of his cigar 
 on the appearance of his lady, looked very so- 
 lemn, and said,
 
 264 
 
 "So it was with a great many of us : with 
 himself, for instance ; for he was seldom long in 
 one place. At the same time," he remarked, 
 " he thought the air of California very likely to 
 suit his complaint; for hitherto, like Falstaff, he 
 had found no remedy ' for this consumption of 
 the purse.' " 
 
 " I hope we shall all improve the occasion," 
 added Lady Morland. " Louisa will be enabled 
 to learn the art of pastel painting, which you 
 know is carried to great perfection in Paris. 
 You, my dear Cecil, will extend your knowledge of 
 languages; Hen will, I trust, gain — gain strength." 
 
 " I' 11 engage she won't gain anything else," 
 said uncle Ned, aside. 
 
 " And Laura's dancing will soon leave nothing 
 to be desired. And then, my dear Edward, we 
 shall have one privilege that I hope we shall all 
 prize — the Protestant church on Sunday. I 
 would live nowhere without that inestimable 
 advantage. The Word every Sabbath-day : think 
 what that is ! But, do you know, one thing has 
 always surprised me : the price of a really good
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 265 
 
 silk dress is quite as high in Paris as in London ; 
 and the same with ribbons. Now, how do you 
 account for that ? " 
 
 Cecil, completely bewildered, looked to her 
 uncle Morland. He had hidden his face in his 
 handkerchief. Uncle Ned, quite composed, gave 
 Lady Morland the first absurd reason that came 
 in his head, and then turned off to look at the colt. 
 
 The girls welcomed Cecil with acclamation ; 
 she was the life of the party, and the schoolroom 
 had been very dull without her. 
 
 Laura clung round her neck, and nestled her 
 beautiful little head in her dress. 
 
 " Oh, Cecil ! what have you here?" she ex- 
 claimed, drawing forth the watch and chain, 
 Mr Fleming's parting present. " What beauti- 
 ful links of purple and gold, and the watch of 
 the same colour ! Oh, how I wish I had it ! 
 How lovely ! " 
 
 " Listen," said Cecil. 
 
 The little watch was a repeater, and she 
 made it strike.
 
 266 
 
 "Oh, Cis! if I had it to belong to me!" 
 said Laura, with a trembling eagerness, " only 
 for one day ! " 
 
 " There, you have seen it now," cried Louisa. 
 "I want Cecil to tell us all about her visit to 
 Wrexworth." 
 
 This was almost an inexhaustible subject, 
 so much was to be said about and against the 
 Dawbeney girls ; and, when that was exhausted, 
 all Cecil's clothes were passed in review and 
 admired, Laura holding the watch in her hand 
 all the time. 
 
 At last, when it was time for the girls to 
 go down into the drawing-room, Cecil claimed 
 her watch. 
 
 " Oh ! let me keep it, Cecil ! I never longed 
 for any thing before. If I don't have it, I 
 shall be so miserable!" said Laura, with her 
 eyes full of tears. 
 
 The piteous eagerness in her face quite melted 
 Cecil. 
 
 " Well, take it," she said, hastily slipping the
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 267 
 
 chain from her neck ; " you want it more than 
 I do." 
 
 "Oh, dear Cis ! lovely, kind Cis!" cried 
 Laura, in a transport. 
 
 The other girls reproached her for her greedi- 
 ness, but she could not hear them : her whole 
 being was absorbed in her new possession. 
 
 Her uncle Ned heard of the transfer that 
 evening from the envious Hen. 
 
 " Yes ; that is how it will always be with 
 those two," he remarked. " Give and take : 
 the one always giving — the other always tak- 
 ing. We never alter, my dear Hen : the boy 
 is father to the man, as the English Solomon 
 said." 
 
 " I don't want to alter, uncle," said Hen, 
 sulkily. 
 
 " I know it, my dear : I thought to comfort 
 you by the reflection. Well, I hope it may 
 never be anything worse than a watch." 
 
 The bustle and discomfort attendant upon 
 letting a house was now felt in perfection by 
 every inmate at Thornley.
 
 268 LENA, 
 
 Lord Morland took himself off to Doncaster 
 immediately. 
 
 " I shall be only in your way," he said to 
 Lady Morland : "I had better take my leave 
 of you a few days earlier, and clear off. I 'm 
 sure you must rejoice to get rid of all your su- 
 perfluous rubbish." 
 
 Lady Morland was never fretted by any little 
 display of her lord's selfishness. She felt that 
 it could not be comfortable for him to be in the 
 midst of inventories and packing-cases : to hear 
 nothing but discussions about what furniture 
 was to be locked up, and what left out ; what 
 hangings were to be put up, and what taken 
 down ; what books were to be numbered, and 
 what wines were to be secured in the cellars. 
 With his indolence, it was anguish to him to see 
 so many people busy ; and she did not feel, as 
 some would have done with a pang, that as all 
 this turmoil was the result of his extravagance, 
 it was hardly honourable of him to steal off and 
 not face the annoyance. It was this total care- 
 lessness about his faults of character which made
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 269 
 
 him go on so smoothly with her. Forbearance 
 only irritates ; but utter indifference, where you 
 know yourself in the wrong, has a soothing 
 effect on the feelings. And though, to a wo- 
 man of her disposition, pecuniary losses are the 
 most severe of all, yet she felt them through 
 Lord Morland — as her father would have felt 
 them through a correspondent at Birmingham 
 — without any wounded emotion of the heart, 
 but straight through to the pocket. 
 
 Lou and Hen did not know they were going 
 to France till Cecil told them : Lady Morland 
 never imparted any news to them; at which 
 Cecil often wondered. Even at her age she was 
 surprised that their mother never drew the 
 girls towards her by any little acts of confi- 
 dence ; which, at a time when they cannot be 
 claimed as a right, are always felt to be so 
 graceful and conciliating by young people. 
 
 They were very much delighted at the idea. 
 Thornley had never been made a cheerful home 
 to them, and any change was welcome.
 
 270 LENA, 
 
 " I suppose mamma can hardly dress us such 
 awful figures at Paris," said Lou. "It is not 
 giving me a fair chance. Even you, Cis, in 
 that pretty bonnet and dress, I declare you are 
 quite good-looking." 
 
 As Louisa seriously thought herself far hand- 
 somer than her cousin, Cecil laughed, and took 
 the compliment as it was meant. 
 
 "If Miss Penley were not going too," said Hen, 
 with a sigh, "perhaps I might enjoy myself; 
 but she seems to be packing like the rest." 
 
 " I wonder," said Lou, " whether mamma will 
 announce to us where we are going, or whether 
 she will take it for granted that we know." 
 
 " If I were you I would ask her, when we 
 are half-way between Dover and Calais," said 
 Hen. 
 
 Lou asked the question a little earlier. One 
 evening Lady Morland said to the girls, " We 
 breakfast at half-past seven to-morrow, my 
 dears, that we may reach London in time for 
 the Dover train."
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 271 
 
 "Where do we go then, mamma?" asked 
 Louisa. 
 
 " We are going to reside at Paris for some 
 time," replied Lady Morland. 
 
 " Oh !" said Lou, taking her candle. 
 
 The servants up stairs were cording their 
 trunks. 
 
 " Almost time to know where we are going," 
 said Lou, pointing to the luggage. " Mamma 
 is very close ; perhaps she does not know that 
 two can play at that game. It is for her to be 
 secret now ; one day it may be my turn." 
 
 Cecil felt this was wrong, but she did not 
 know how to set it right. She could not under- 
 stand why Lady Morland should be mysterious 
 to her children upon a point they must be in- 
 formed of sooner or later ; and she was not sur- 
 prised at Louisa's resentment. 
 
 Meanwhile the stupid Hen was trying to pack 
 a white kitten in one of the trunks, by squeez- 
 ing it down in a corner and covering it with 
 linen. Laura was winding her watch, and set-
 
 272 LENA, 
 
 ting it at half-past seven, with a vague idea that 
 she would then know at what o'clock she ought 
 to get up to-morrow. 
 
 " What 's that noise ?" asked Lou. 
 
 "It's the kitten," said Laura. 
 
 "What is she doing with it?" said Lou. 
 
 " Packing it up," replied Hen. 
 
 " Why, you stupid girl, it will die in that 
 trunk ! " exclaimed Lou. 
 
 "No it won't," said Hen. 
 
 " Cis, to the rescue ! she is killing Mimi," 
 cried Louisa. 
 
 Hen sat down on the trunk ; the other girls 
 tried to pull her off. Miss Penley, hearing a 
 noise, entered the room in her curl-papers, and 
 reproved the combatants. She also set the kit- 
 ten at liberty, together with a piece of bread 
 and butter intended for poor Mimi's refreshment 
 during the voyage. Hen went to bed crying 
 for her kitten ; and Laura, who had just broken 
 the mainspring of her watch, and knew by the 
 buzzing that something was wrong, hurried
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 273 
 
 after her, afraid lest somebody should ask her 
 what o'clock it was, and find out the mischief 
 she had done. 
 
 Uncle Ned had the pleasure of conducting 
 Lady Morland to Paris, and settling her in a 
 suite of apartments in the Rue de Rivoli. 
 
 It was a delightful situation. The iron rail- 
 ings of the Tuileries gardens were just opposite 
 their front windows, and Miss Penley used to 
 walk beneath those beautiful trees w^ith her 
 pupils, whenever they were allowed that recrea- 
 tion. 
 
 Once a quarter uncle Ned came over to see 
 his nieces, and assist Lady Morland in her pecu- 
 niary arrangements. 
 
 But Lord Morland found it possible to exist 
 for more than two years, without making any 
 effort to pay his family a visit. He said that he 
 suffered horribly in crossing the water ; and if 
 it were the truth, those who have been afflicted 
 in like manner will hold him to be fully acquit- 
 ted of the obligation. 
 
 vol. i. s
 
 274 
 
 He did feel a little twinge of conscience when- 
 ever his brother returned, bringing all kinds of 
 messages and entreaties from Cecil, and embroi- 
 deries from the whole party, enough to set up a 
 stall at the Oxford bazaar, together with stiff 
 little complimentary notes from his daughters. 
 
 At last Cecil gave him up in despair; and 
 as for the others, they had never entertained 
 any views at all upon the subject, and there- 
 fore were not liable to be disappointed. 
 
 But one day when Cecil had, (as she some- 
 times threatened to do,) forgotten all about her 
 uncle, and was sitting in her own room deep in 
 the perusal of the exquisite little story, by Jules 
 Sandeau, called " Madeleine," the lady's-maid 
 came in, with her round cap perched on her 
 smooth black bands and her hands plunged in 
 her apron pockets, and approaching Cecil with 
 an air of great mystery, hinted that " II y avait 
 dans le salon un beau Monsieur qui desirait 
 parler avec Mademoiselle Cecile." 
 
 "What name, Zephyrine?" asked Cecil, not
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 275 
 
 very well pleased that her reading should be in- 
 terrupted. 
 
 " Le Monsieur n'avait pas donne de nom." 
 
 "Oh, no doubt it 's the new music-master," 
 said Cecil, rising indolently. 
 
 " Ce n'etait point assurement un maitre de 
 musique," Zephyrine insisted; and she consider- 
 ed herself a great authority in assigning to peo- 
 ple at a glance their proper stations in society. 
 
 " Was he an Englishman ?" 
 
 " Ni Francais, ni Anglais : certainement qu'il 
 ne fut pas Anglais ! Apparemment c'etait quel- 
 
 que grand Seigneur Russe." 
 
 And Cecil, entering with her most stately air 
 to express her regrets that Lady Morland was 
 from home, found herself greeted by a hearty 
 laugh from her uncle Morland. 
 
 "These are my credentials," he remarked, 
 laying a letter, in the well-known handwriting 
 of her uncle Ned, upon the velvet of the chim- 
 neypiece. 
 
 " I don't know what he finds to say to my
 
 276 LENA, 
 
 lady, but I believe his letters are all financial : 
 be rich if you can, Cis, that 's all — you don't 
 know what a bore it is to be poor." 
 
 "I hope you are not poor, uncle?" returned 
 Cecil, laughing. 
 
 " Not just at this moment, Cis : and so, that 
 we may enjoy the present without delay, let 's 
 be off, before my lady comes back." 
 
 Cecil looked round half frightened. 
 
 "Why, uncle, my aunt is only just gone to 
 the Rue Castiglione, to the dentist, with the 
 others ; she will be back in a few minutes." 
 
 " The more reason, child, why we should 
 make haste off. I shall be delighted to see my 
 lady again ; but suppose she should i stop your 
 liberty,' as the sailors call it — you see I have 
 become quite nautical. — Ah ! what I have suf- 
 fered in coming to see you is best known to 
 myself." 
 
 "Not much, I am sure, uncle : you are look- 
 ing too well," retorted Cecil, as she ran off to 
 dress.
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 277 
 
 They hurried down the stairs, and through 
 the wicket of the porte cochere. 
 
 "Now I shall see Paris at last!" exclaimed 
 Cecil, looking joyously round. " You don't 
 know, uncle, what prisoners we are ! Except 
 going now and then to the Bois, I know no 
 more of Paris than if I had never left Thorn- 
 
 ley!" 
 
 " Well, Cis, we will try and make up for lost 
 time. First — let 's see — I want some gloves." 
 
 " I can direct you there, uncle : our glover 
 lives close at hand." 
 
 And Cecil conducted her uncle to a small 
 shop in the same street, where they always 
 dealt. 
 
 A thoughtful-looking priest, who was trying 
 a pair of gloves on his slender coffee-coloured 
 hands, bowed and made way for the lady at the 
 counter. This is the custom in France ; and 
 when you come back, our English ways, (though 
 of course the best,) jar a little on your feelings. 
 
 While Lord Morland was choosing a profu-
 
 278 LENA 
 
 sion of gloves for himself and his niece, he 
 went on talking to the glover about the theatres 
 and other public places ; and hearing that Rachel 
 played that night at the Francais, his plan for 
 the evening was decided. 
 
 " See Rachel ! Oh, uncle, what happiness !" 
 exclaimed Cecil, as they left the shop : " and 
 how beautifully you speak French — it is a plea- 
 sure to hear you grasseyer — just like a Pari- 
 sian ! One can walk along the streets without 
 the people grumbling Anglais ! as we pass; which 
 from them is almost as complimentary an epi- 
 thet as if they said Forqat!" 
 
 " Oh, by the way, Cis, how does my lady 
 come on with her French ? " asked Lord Morland. 
 
 " She does not speak it at all, uncle," Cecil 
 replied. 
 
 " Oh !" he said quietly ; for he never allowed 
 himself a joke at her expense, though he was 
 naturally curious to know whether her attain- 
 ments were at all extended in that department 
 of learning.
 
 OR TIIE SILENT WOMAN. 279 
 
 "Have you dined, Cis?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, no, uncle, never mind dinner," she re- 
 plied, urging him forward impatiently. 
 
 "Not mind dinner!" said Lord Morland, 
 laughing ; " and in Paris, where one really can 
 dine ! Besides, I have not dined myself : we 
 will go to the Trois Freres." 
 
 " Where is that, uncle?" 
 
 " Poor child, you are really ignorant of Paris. 
 The Trois Freres Provencaux is situated at a 
 corner of the Palais Royal ; and unless things 
 are much altered since I was here last, there 
 you can dine in a very satisfactory manner." 
 
 " Provided always we are not too late for the 
 play," added Cecil. 
 
 " We will not be too late — we have an hour 
 and a half before us," he replied ; " and we will 
 stop at a bookseller's, and buy a copy of • Vir- 
 ginie,' her character to-night." 
 
 Cecil read the tragedy while they were wait- 
 ing for dinner. 
 
 " How do you like it?" he asked.
 
 280 LENA, 
 
 "It is a dull play, uncle : but, never mind ; 
 we shall see Rachel ! " 
 
 She never thought it a dull play afterwards : 
 the words were not the same when they had 
 once been steeped in the pathetic music of 
 Rachel's wondrous voice. 
 
 Certainly the Theatre Francais does not de- 
 rive its attraction from externals. 
 
 Cecil was astonished at the excessively dirty 
 box ; which, by paying treble the amount, Lord 
 Morland had induced the garcon to procure for 
 him even at that late hour. 
 
 The house was dingy and tarnished, and the 
 audience did not look particularly clean. There 
 was no music. The curtain rose at a given sig- 
 nal, and discovered a Roman interior, very 
 vilely painted. There was a moment's pause, — 
 and then Rachel, in her trailing white pallium 
 and tunic, glided on the stage. 
 
 She carried in her hands the violet wreath 
 and the chalice filled with corn, which she was 
 about to oiFer at her father's hearth, on the eve
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 281 
 
 of her departure ; and the quiet sadness of her 
 voice, as she commended Virginius to the care 
 of his household gods, when she should be no 
 longer there to watch over him, shook Cecil's 
 nerves as the wind thrills the strings of a harp. 
 It was all over with her composure from the 
 first moment : her tears kept time throughout 
 to those unrivalled tones. 
 
 The extreme slenderness of Rachel's figure 
 gives a peculiar charm to these Roman cos- 
 tumes : the soft long folds melt and break, and 
 sweep into a fresh arrangement of drapery at 
 every step. 
 
 "What would I give to be so beautiful!" 
 cried Cecil, turning to her uncle as the drop- 
 scene fell. 
 
 "Why, Cis, are you fishing for a compli- 
 ment ? " he asked ; for his niece was the pret- 
 tiest woman (which is not saying much) in the 
 house, and a whole battery of lorgnettes had 
 been directed to their box. 
 
 " I 'm in earnest, uncle — I could not have
 
 282 LENA, 
 
 believed in such beauty — her soul shines through 
 her at every word ! " 
 
 "That it easily may — it has very little to 
 shine through," was his reply. " She is too 
 thin, Cis ; but she 's a wonderful actress — 
 there 's nothing like her : Mrs Siddons was not 
 like her." 
 
 In the French version of the play, Virginius 
 and his daughter have it all to themselves ; and 
 he acted his part, which was considerable, with 
 great force and delicacy. 
 
 Perhaps the most striking passage in the play 
 is that where Virginie orders Appius Claudius 
 to leave the house. The cold surprise with 
 which she turns from Fausta to Appius, and 
 fixes him with her glittering eye before she lets 
 fall the words — 
 
 Quel audace ! 
 
 is perfect; as well as the exquisite skill with 
 which her voice ascends, almost in a diatonic 
 scale, while scorn and passion struggle for the 
 mastery, to the lines
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 283 
 
 Et vous venez ici, m'offrir presqu' a genoux 
 Des presens teints de sang ! 
 
 till, choked with wrath and tears, she drops her 
 arms and falters out — 
 
 du sang de mon epoux ! 
 
 And then the fine contrast in repeating the 
 words — 
 
 Sortez ! sortez ! 
 
 the first uttered in a tone, almost with a gri- 
 mace, of loathing, accompanied by a gesture as 
 if she threw from her some noxious reptile ; the 
 second, as she points her extended arm to the 
 doorway, given in a clear full tone of command, 
 that echoed through the house. 
 
 Cecil rose from her seat as if she had been 
 magnetised — her excitement was painful — her 
 breath grew short and difficult ; and Lord Mor- 
 land distracted her by saying calmly, from time 
 to time, " Very well — very well," as if to him- 
 self, and as if that was the utmost he had to 
 say about it.
 
 284 LENA, 
 
 But there was something better yet to come : 
 at the close of the fourth act ; where Virginie 
 prepares to accompany her father to the Forum, 
 and her strength fails her suddenly — her over- 
 tasked nerves give way, — her limbs droop, — 
 her voice charged with tears is but just audible, 
 and her lingering gaze bids adieu to every object 
 in the beloved home, to which she feels that she 
 is never to return. 
 
 People who have never suffered can scarcely 
 comprehend the truth of scenes like these : it is 
 only those whom sorrow has wrung to the quick, 
 who are able to detect the naturalness of the 
 delineation. 
 
 Indeed, she followed all the last act through 
 a mist of tears ; and when the unhappy daughter 
 veiled herself to receive the fatal stroke, the 
 painful throbbing of her heart warned Cecil 
 that she had been quite enough excited for one 
 evening. 
 
 "It is fortunate you are not going to a ball 
 to-night, Cis," remarked her uncle, as he handed
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 285 
 
 her into the fiacre that was to convey them 
 home. 
 
 " I 'm quite ashamed of myself, uncle," she 
 replied, drying her eyes. " I know what an ob- 
 ject I must look ; but I could not help it. What 
 a voice ! — there 's nothing for it but just to go 
 on crying." 
 
 " I say, Cis, will my lady be very much dis- 
 turbed ? — about the play, I mean : she 's so reli- 
 gious, you know." 
 
 " It 's too late now, uncle, thank goodness, to 
 think about that ! I 've seen what I shall re- 
 member all my life : and now, if people are 
 angry — why — " 
 
 " You don't care a straw, you mean to say," 
 returned her uncle, laughing ; " but I should 
 think Lady Morland could not object, just for 
 once, eh ? And then, there was no afterpiece." 
 
 " Ah ! uncle," cried Cecil, highly amused, 
 " suppose you get into disgrace ! Are you 
 frightened ? We are coming very near. We are 
 in the Rue St Honore ; now we are in the Rue 
 du Dauphin ; now we turn — we are in the Rue
 
 286 LENA, 
 
 de Rivoli ! Has your courage all oozed away 
 by this time ? And now we stop at our own 
 door. ' Your lordship is right welcome back to 
 Denmark.' " 
 
 " I think the girl's head is turned," he said, 
 laughing ; " there, run up first, while I settle 
 with the coachman." 
 
 But Cecil stood laughing on the staircase till 
 her uncle joined her; though she was in that 
 excited state of spirits, that, I am sorry to say, 
 she would not have cared much if her aunt had 
 been in a rage. 
 
 But the little note which Lord Morland had 
 left behind him on the chimney piece had done 
 much to reconcile her ladyship to her niece's 
 absence. 
 
 It consisted of these few words : 
 
 " Morland will bring you this : he has been 
 winning lately, by way of variety. To keep 
 him out of the salon, you had better let Cecil go 
 about with him every where : he cannot take 
 her into a gaming-house. Your's ever, E. M."
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 287 
 
 So that Lady Morland was disposed on the 
 whole to receive the truants with amenity. 
 Cecil had done, unconsciously, just what could 
 be wished ; and somehow Lady Morland never 
 exacted from her the blind submission that she 
 did from the other girls. She ordered tea to 
 be in readiness, and waited benignantly for her 
 husband's return. 
 
 Lou was embroidering a handkerchief; Hen, 
 who had been tormented by the dentist, was 
 crying, because she could not eat ; Laura was 
 playing with the dog, when Lord Morland came 
 in hastily with Cecil on his arm, and expressed 
 his extreme delight at seeing Lady Morland 
 again, and his contrition at having run away 
 with one of her charges ; but really, hearing 
 that Rachel played at the Francais, the tempta- 
 tion was too strong. 
 
 " Oh, my dear lord, don't make any apology ; 
 our dear Edward's letter, which you were con- 
 siderate enough to leave behind, told me who 
 was the thief: or else, on my word (with her
 
 288 LENA, 
 
 little stage laugh), ha ! ha ! Zephyrine gave 
 Miss Penley a formidable history of what had 
 happened during our short absence ! Do you 
 find the girls grown ? " 
 
 " I find Cecil prodigiously grown and im- 
 proved: upon my word I don't know when 
 
 I? n 
 
 ve seen — 
 
 " Yes, exactly," interposed Lady Morland. 
 " We don't care, you know, whether we are 
 tall or short — the object is, you know, to im- 
 prove day by day. You will have some tea, 
 won't you? Did you find it warm in the 
 theatre? The trees have been coming out 
 wonderfully this day or two." 
 
 Lord Morland finding that looks were a pro- 
 hibited subject, gratefully accepted the tea ; and, 
 thinking to mend his remark, said, "that cer- 
 tainly just at this moment Cis did n't look very 
 bright — it was not the time for her to make a 
 conquest, for instance : he should say that she 
 had been quite hors de combat during the last 
 three acts, and had no longer endangered the
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 289 
 
 peace of those very persevering young men 
 with lorgnettes {you know, Cis) in the opposite 
 box." 
 
 Cecil shook her head at her uncle in vain — 
 Lady Morland turned and surveyed her. 
 
 " Why, Cecil ! " she almost screamed, " what 
 is the matter with your eyes ? " 
 
 " Ay, you may well ask ! " returned Lord 
 Morland, laughing; " but it was such a touch- 
 ing story : I don't know how I escaped the in- 
 fection, for the Frenchmen were blubbering all 
 round me ; were they not, Cis ? " 
 
 "I see nothing praiseworthy in that," said 
 Lady Morland ; " and I hope that Cecil, if she 
 should ever go to a play again, will be more 
 reasonable." 
 
 " Just so ; we will go to the Vaudeville next 
 time, and see Arnal," whispered Lord Morland 
 to his niece. 
 
 " Instead of wasting our sensibilities on a 
 parcel of Greeks and Romans," her ladyship 
 continued, "in a world like this, where we 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 290 
 
 may every day expect to meet with real afflic- 
 tions, — " 
 
 " Dear aunt, what afflictions ?" asked Cecil ; 
 for Lady Morland's foreboding tone made her 
 fancy she had something particular in view. 
 
 "Husbands, my dear," interposed her per- 
 verse uncle ; " they are generally the first af- 
 flictions young ladies meet with : and it must 
 be allowed that in most cases such afflictions 
 are entirely of their own seeking." 
 
 " My dear lord, Cecil had better go to bed," 
 said Lady Morland, severely : for even a poor 
 joke like this was inadmissible on such a solemn 
 topic. " There is very little to laugh at in the 
 ordering of our lot ; and as little to cry about, 
 Cecil, in the forward nonsense that Ruth or 
 Rachel, or whatever her name is, may have 
 been ranting! Wicked creature! I suppose 
 she was rouged up to the eyes ! You will have 
 a headach to-morrow of course ! " 
 
 " Don't," exclaimed Lord Morland, " because 
 I want you to go with me to the Louvre, and to
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 291 
 
 ride with me afterwards in the Bois de Bou- 
 logne. — Cis must have a habit, Lady Morland ; 
 and they will tell me at Meurice's where I can 
 hire the best horses." 
 
 "You are at Meurice's, then?" said Lady 
 Morland. 
 
 " Yes, not fifty yards off. I shall be with 
 you early. On my word, you have very good 
 rooms ; — where do you perch, Cis ? Au cin- 
 quieme f " 
 
 " No, indeed, uncle ; all our rooms are on 
 the first floor. We are great people here. 
 Come to breakfast, and let us be about all 
 day." 
 
 It was towards the end of April, and the 
 weather was delicious : as hot as July in Eng- 
 land. The chestnut trees of the Tuileries had 
 sprung into leaf and blossom, and the gardens 
 were thronged with idlers. Cecil and her uncle 
 used to spend hours loitering about, or sitting 
 under the trees, Lord Morland talking readily 
 to any one who happened to sit beside them ;
 
 292 LENA, 
 
 which amused Cecil very much. Sometimes 
 they would wander into the Place du Carousel, 
 and see the troops exercised in the court of the 
 Tuileries, as well as they could for the blaze of 
 sunshine and steel helmets. They went to see 
 the Gobelin tapestry, and thought it a very 
 mysterious process, and came out in the most 
 perfect ignorance of the whole proceeding ; hav- 
 ing looked in vain upon a set of workmen 
 doing something inconceivable with their slen- 
 der Norman fingers among a profusion of 
 wooden pegs and coloured wools outside a 
 canvass suspended before them. They went to 
 Pere la Chaise, which disgusted them ex- 
 tremely ; and to the Jardin des Plantes, which 
 pleased them better ; and to the Luxembourg, 
 where there happened to be a flower-show, 
 which was well worth seeing ; and to the 
 chapel built to the memory of Louis XVI. and 
 his queen : and there Cecil shed almost as 
 many tears as she had done at the play, while 
 reading the sublime passages engraved on the
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 293 
 
 pedestal of his statue, in which the king ex- 
 horts his son to forgive his enemies, if he 
 should ever have the power to revenge his 
 wrongs. And they went to see Arnal, as Lord 
 Morland had threatened ; and they visited 
 almost every church in Paris. Whenever she 
 could entice her uncle into a church, Cecil was 
 happy. She was present at a grand funeral in 
 St Roche, and a wedding in Notre Dame, and 
 a mass for a departed soul in the Madeleine ; 
 where, the church being under some trifling 
 repairs, the hammer and chisel of the work- 
 men kept strange time with the chant of the 
 Miserere. 
 
 But at this point Lady Morland interposed. 
 It was very well to go to the play or the opera 
 for those who liked such places, and who did 
 not feel the sin of encouraging young women 
 to paint their faces, like Jezebel — who, poor 
 soul ! painted in a very different style from the 
 modern ; but Cecil never should, with her con- 
 sent, set her foot in those heathen churches,
 
 294 LENA, 
 
 where Cecil knew, and could not deny it, that 
 they worshipped graven images to this day ; 
 and, if she persisted in such conduct, her lady- 
 ship gave the company present to understand 
 that she should break her heart. 
 
 At this crisis Lord Morland hastened to assure 
 her ladyship that he would not for the world act 
 against her convictions ; but that what she had 
 imagined to be graven images at St Roche were 
 merely painted on the wall, to imitate marble : 
 although, he added, they had deceived a great 
 many people. But it would not have been 
 discreet to inquire too closely where he and 
 Cecil did go the very next Sunday ; and Lady 
 Morland perhaps thought so too, for she lost 
 sight of them soon after breakfast ; and they 
 did not come to light again till it was just time 
 to dress for dinner. 
 
 It was a heavy day for Cecil when her uncle 
 returned to England. She had to look for- 
 ward to her uncle Ned's visits, and that was 
 all ; for her uncle Morland confided to her that
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 295 
 
 he did not think he should cross the water 
 again. He dreaded going back ; and if it was 
 not for the Derby, he really thought he should 
 remain always in Paris, rather than endure 
 another such two hours at sea as he had suf- 
 fered in coming over. 
 
 His daughters saw him go, as they had seen 
 him come, with perfect tranquillity. Lady Mor- 
 land was rather glad, for she never quite knew 
 what he would do next. So Cecil had her tears 
 all to herself; for Laura was rejoicing in a splen- 
 did collection of bon-bons, which her uncle be- 
 stowed on her in parting, and which, perhaps, 
 he would not have given her if he had staid. 
 
 The girls learned every known thing that was 
 taught at Paris. Cecil was in great measure 
 exempt from this drudgery ; for her uncle Ned, 
 thinking that she looked thin the first time he 
 paid them a visit, insisted that she should have 
 no masters but of her own choosing ; and she 
 confined herself to a piano and singing master. 
 
 It was, perhaps, fortunate for the girls that
 
 296 LENA, 
 
 Lady Morland made no acquaintance whatever 
 among the French. She had never learned to 
 speak that language, and she made no progress 
 at all in it, during the time she resided in 
 Paris. 
 
 Her best friends in England delighted to re- 
 peat some of her French quotations; which were 
 quite equal to those of a famous railway lady, 
 who used to exclaim to her parting acquaintance, 
 u Au reservoir" Lady Morland was known to have 
 spoken of a young man whom she knew as a fine 
 young chaussure, meaning chasseur. But when she 
 got among "the natives," as she called them, 
 she prudently dropped these expletives, and 
 confined herself to her mother tongue : her 
 own maid rendered her orders to the other ser- 
 vants, and Miss Penley performed the same good 
 office towards her ladyship's tradespeople. 
 
 Lady Morland contented herself with what 
 little society might be found among the few 
 English residents irreproachable enough to be 
 considered, with their children, perfectly safe
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 297 
 
 companions for her girls ; and with such of her 
 friends as might be either on a visit to Paris, 
 or passing through to travel on the Conti- 
 nent. 
 
 All these looked up to her as the most de- 
 voted and careful of mothers, which she was. 
 None of her friends left her without being 
 deeply impressed with her skill and manage- 
 ment. 
 
 " You '11 see she will marry those two girls of 
 hers; and would if she had ten more !" were the 
 terms in which their admiration reached its cli- 
 max, and found vent in words: "Ay, and I 
 should not wonder if she got them off even be- 
 fore their beautiful cousins; though they have 
 something respectable in the way of fortune." 
 
 What more affecting tribute could be paid to 
 the sleepless cares of the best of parents ? 
 
 It suited Lady Morland's convenience, or 
 rather her necessity, to remain abroad four 
 years : at the end of that period, she was ena- 
 bled to arrange her return. They were to go
 
 298 LENA, 
 
 back to Thornley in the autumn ; and the fol- 
 lowing spring she determined to present Louisa 
 and Cecil. 
 
 She looked forward with some excitement to 
 the battle of the ensuing London season. 
 
 There was also a little skirmish that she was 
 preparing for the autumn at Thornley: but of 
 this she breathed not a word, even to her trusty 
 counsellor uncle Ned. 
 
 She was very well satisfied with her materials. 
 
 It was not at all discouraging that Louisa was 
 a little sallow insignificant person, without ta- 
 lents or graces of any kind : she rather liked it 
 the better : there was more credit in marrying 
 a girl like that. 
 
 " I can make most people believe that Lou is 
 a beauty," she soliloquized, " by merely assert- 
 ing it, as if it were a self-evident fact. With 
 regard to Henrietta, I fear I must fall back upon 
 the virtues for her recommendation; which I 
 know enough of men to be aware is a far less 
 efficient letter of credit : she must learn to knit
 
 OR THE SILENT WOMAN. 299 
 
 worsted stockings, and keep the accounts of the 
 Thornley Coal Club. But shoo ! {chut!) as the 
 girls say, let me remember that excellent Ara- 
 bian proverb — 
 
 "SILVER SPEECH GOLDEN SILENCE !" 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 PRINTED BY OLIVER AND BOYD, 
 EDINBURGH.
 
 (WESTLEYS) fJ