LI E) RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVLRSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
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 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2009 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
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 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 MISS PAEDOE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 LOXnS XIV. AND THE COURT OF FEANOE IN THE XVIl''' CENTUEY, 
 " LIFE OF FRANCIS I. KING OF FRANCE," ETC. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 L. BOOTH, 307 REGENT STREET, W 
 
 MDCCCLIX. 
 
 \The right of Translation is reserved.]
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed by G. Bakclay, Castle St. Leicester Sq.
 
 ,<. 
 
 \^.l^ 
 
 V. I 
 
 CONTENTS TO VOL. T, 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. BROTHER AND SISTER 
 
 II. THE FIRST INTERVIEW 
 
 III. THE LETTER . 
 
 IV, FAMILY CONNEXIONS 
 V. THE BIRTHDAY-BALL 
 
 VI. A DELICATE NEGOTIATION 
 
 VII. A SECRET 
 
 VIII. THE FIRST STORM-CLOUD 
 
 IX. GUARDIAN AND WARD 
 
 X. A TRAGEDY 
 
 XT. THE FRIENDS . 
 
 XII. A HEART-STRUGGLE 
 
 Xni. THE CLOUD THICKENS 
 
 XIV. LOVE AND AMBITION 
 
 - XV. DESPAIR 
 
 XVI. THE OLD LOVE AND THE N 
 
 EW 
 
 1 
 
 17 
 
 24 
 
 33 
 
 50 
 
 02 
 
 77 
 
 89 
 
 101 
 
 115 
 
 128 
 
 144 
 
 159 
 
 17-2 
 
 189 
 
 198
 
 IV 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 
 PAGR 
 
 XVIT. 
 
 A STRUGGLE .... 
 
 . 209 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 A FAMILY SKETCH . 
 
 . 225 
 
 XIX. 
 
 A FAILURE .... 
 
 . 237 
 
 XX. 
 
 A DEPARTURE . . 
 
 . 257 
 
 XXI. 
 
 A BRIDE .... 
 
 . 268 
 
 XXII. 
 
 THE " ins" and THE " OUTS " . 
 
 . 280 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 A SUMMONS .... 
 
 . 295 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 AN ARRIVAL . . . . 
 
 . 310
 
 A LIFE-STRUGGLE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 
 
 On a bright May morning, and at an hour 
 unusually early for persons of their appear- 
 ance and deportment, two individuals were 
 seated beneath one of the stately trees in 
 Kensington Gardens. They were both young, 
 and both handsome ; and there existed be- 
 tween them a certain resemblance, rather, 
 however, of expression than of complexion or 
 feature, w^hich at once betrayed their relation- 
 ship. The lady was dark, with fine lustrous 
 eyes, abundant black hair, and a remarkably 
 graceful figure ; while her companion, a man 
 of some three or four-and-twenty years of age, 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 .-i A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 was, on the contrary, dazzlingly fair, with deep 
 blue eyes, auburn hair curhng in heavy masses 
 about his lofty forehead, and the profile of an 
 Antinous. Tall and stately as a young pine, 
 his whole appearance was indicative of high 
 birth, elegance, and that grace of bearing 
 wdiich is only to be attained by contact with 
 the best society. Both brother and sister 
 were, in short, what our continental neigh- 
 bours designate as "distinguished;" nor did 
 their well-modulated voices dispel the charm 
 of their personal appearance, as, secure from 
 all intrusion upon the privacy of their con- 
 versation, they were engaged in earnest 
 discourse. 
 
 " Do not vv^aste time in endeavouring, to 
 alter my resolution, my dear Ferdinand ;" said 
 the lady, in reply to an earnest disclaimer on 
 the part of her brother ; " but believe me 
 Avhen I assure you that it is irrevocable. I 
 repeat that I shall never marry. With our 
 slender fortunes, were I selfish enough to do 
 so, you could never hope to provide such 
 a home for your wife as the woman whose 
 hand you ask would have a right to expect, 
 both from your birth and your position in 
 society. Unless, indeed, which I will never
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 6 
 
 believe" — and her beautiful lip curled for 
 an instant scornfully — " you were to sell 
 yourself to an heiress, and become the pen- 
 sioner instead of the protector of your life- 
 companion." 
 
 " My dear Enna " expostulated her 
 
 brother, as proudly. 
 
 " I knew that I was right," pursued Miss 
 Greville ; "and the very conviction that you 
 would never consent to place yourself m i^u 
 false a position induced the determination 
 which I have just announced to you. Do not 
 imagine for a moment that it is a mere sudden 
 caprice, for such is far from being the case. 
 I have weighed the subject maturely and care- 
 fully, and I am convinced that my decision is 
 a rational and proper one. You are the last 
 male representative of our family — an im- 
 poverished, 'but not the less a noble one ; and 
 you are bound to uphold its dignity and 
 honour. Xor would I have you suppose that 
 I am volunteering a sacrifice, or exhibiting a 
 proof of self-abnegation. By no means. I 
 have never wished to marry- — never looked 
 forward to marriage as a necessary conse- 
 quence of my existence, as women are, I be- 
 lieve, generally prone to do ; a fact of which
 
 4 A LIFE- STRUGGLE. 
 
 you must be sufficiently aware, since you have 
 more than once accused me of coldness and 
 even misanthropy, when I was simply in- 
 different. Your excitable and ardent nature 
 cannot comprehend the calm of mine. To this 
 hour I have never felt what is commonly 
 called love : nay, more, I have not even ex- 
 perienced a preference for one of your sex; 
 and it is very improbable, not to say impos- 
 sible, that after having passed six-and-twenty 
 years of my life in this comfortable state of 
 tranquillity, I should be weak enough to 
 intrust my happiness to the keeping of 
 another." 
 
 " I cannot admit your argument, Enna ; 
 nor can I see you, without extreme regret, 
 reject the hand of so unexceptionable a suitor 
 as AuEfustus Carlvon." 
 
 " But if I care nothing for him ? " was the 
 quiet rejoinder. " Surely a man like Mr. 
 Carlyon cannot desire to possess the hand of 
 a w^oman to whom he is an object of utter 
 indifference ? " 
 
 " Carlyon is two-and-thirty years of age, 
 and has consequently sufficiently outlived his 
 romance by this time, I should imagine, to be 
 satisfied with tlie esteem and respect of a wife,
 
 BROTHEE AND SISTER. D 
 
 without lookinor for what is understood b^ 
 love ; " said Greville. 
 
 " A bad beginning, however, I strongly 
 suspect ; '' rephed his sister ; "for to this very 
 accommodating principle of 
 
 ' Marry and try, 
 And you'll love by and by,' 
 
 do I attribute the many miserable matches, 
 — or shall I say the very few happy ones? — 
 that w^e see about us." 
 
 " The subject is scarcely one to jest upon 
 under present circumstances, Enna." 
 
 " Nor do I jest for a moment, my solemn 
 brother;" said the young lady playfully. 
 *'You know that Lady Maria Marston, my 
 eccentric admirer, has offered me a home 
 during her life, and a comfortable provision 
 after her death, if I will reside with her in 
 Sussex ; and I have resolved to profit by her 
 kindness. I care little for the world, and 
 what the wealthy and the gay esteem as the 
 world, cares still less for me ; therefore, as I 
 said before, I make no sacrifice, and seek only 
 to be happy in your happiness." 
 
 " And should you one day discover that 
 you have deceived yourself?"
 
 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " I have no fear of making such a dis- 
 covery. You are to me father, mother, bro- 
 ther, friend — all, in short; and I long to feel 
 as a hidden spectator gazing from her obscure 
 nook upon the wide and brilliantly-decorated 
 stage whereon 'lives and moves' the one idol 
 of her imagination and her heart ; the observed 
 of all observers. You were born for success, 
 Ferdinand ; personally and mentally you may 
 boast of every quality calculated to secure it ; 
 how could I submit to be a clog upon your 
 fortunes? I should hate myself did I deem 
 it possible." 
 
 '' Always the same old story, Enna ; " said 
 her brother affectionately, though not without 
 a shade of vexation in his tone and manner ; 
 " To hear you, one would imagine that I stood 
 alone in the universe, as a sort of Admirable 
 Crichton. It is really a pity, my good sister, 
 that our relationship is so close, and that I 
 am debarred the privilege of compelhng you, 
 as I might have done had we been simply 
 cousins, to abnegate all your magnificent anti- 
 matrimonial resolutions. Assuredly, if all 
 women thought as you do, I should be, if 
 not the happiest, at any rate the most favoured 
 of mortals ; but unfortunately, Enna, you
 
 BROTHER A^'D SISTER. 7 
 
 judge too partially. I have many faults, but 
 not yet, I trust, the contemptible one with 
 which you are seeking to inoculate me, for I 
 am not fop enough to believe that I possess 
 half the good qualities with which you seek to 
 invest me. Am I then really to disappoint 
 the hopes of poor Carlyon?" 
 
 " Oh, do not make yourself uneasy with 
 regard to your friend. He will soon find 
 consolation elsewhere ; " said Miss Greville, 
 with a lisfht laugh. 
 
 " Nevertheless, I consent to do your 
 bidding with great reluctance;" was the re- 
 ply ; " nor can I approve the resolution which 
 you have taken to bury the best years of your 
 life in the dull home of a confirmed invalid. 
 It is mistaken and unnatural." 
 
 " I am your elder sister, sir, and you 
 should show more respect for my opinions;"' 
 whispered the lady, as she wound her arm 
 fondly about his neck. 
 
 " I cannot, of course, oppose so impor- 
 tant an author itv as vour ei^jhteen months 
 of eldership enable you to assume ;" smiled 
 her brother in his turn ; " but remember, 
 Enna, that your claim upon the estate, such 
 as it is, must, and will, always remain intact,
 
 8 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 in spite of all the wild and unreasonable 
 whims which you may engender in your 
 foolish brain. Come what may, you will 
 ever be my own dear sister, and my greatest 
 interest in this world. No unkind word, no 
 unkind look, has ever yet passed between us ; 
 and were it not for the strange caprice that 
 has taken possession of you, scarcely a dif- 
 ference of opinion." 
 
 And Ferdinand Greville said truly; the 
 two had been everything to each other ; one 
 heart and one will had governed all their 
 actions ; and although they were, at the pe- 
 riod when we have introduced them to the 
 reader, by no means in the social or pecu- 
 niary position to which they were entitled by 
 their birth, they had never repined, for their 
 mutual affection sufficed to their happiness. 
 It was only to the future that they looked 
 with any anxiety. 
 
 Lady Charlotte Greville had died of rapid 
 decline a few years after the birth of Ferdi- 
 nand; and his father, who was aide-de-camp 
 to the Earl of Ravenswood, had left Enna 
 under the care of one of his own relatives, 
 and placed Ferdinand at a preparatory school 
 selected by his patron, while he accompanied
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 9 
 
 the latter to the Peninsula, where he served 
 throughout the whole campaign. Unhappily, 
 the handsome and fascinating Captain Gre> 
 ville soon recovered the loss of his amiable 
 and talented wife, who had been enabled, by 
 her judicious counsels and devoted affection, 
 to restrain his natural passion for dissipation 
 and expense ; and he no sooner found himself 
 once more free from all family ties, than he 
 plunged into the wildest and most deplorable 
 excesses, which he endeavoured to repair at 
 the gaming-table ; where he eventually lost 
 such large sums of money, that on the return 
 of the army to England, he was compelled to 
 dispose of his commission and to expatriate 
 himself, in order to escape the pursuit of his 
 creditors. 
 
 His destination was America, where he 
 fondly hoped to retrieve his shattered for- 
 tunes ; and adversity having restored to him 
 some of the better feelings of his nature, he 
 resolved to estabhsh a home in the country 
 of his adoption before he exposed his mother- 
 less children to the hardships which they 
 must otherwise have shared ; a determination 
 which was strengthened by the approbation 
 of Lord Ravenswood, to whom the gallantry
 
 10 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 and devotion of his young aide-de-camp had 
 greatly endeared him ; and who, while he 
 mourned his follies, could not forget that he 
 was indebted to him for his life at the siege 
 of Badajoz, Avhere he had boldly flung himself 
 between his general and an officer of French 
 lancers, and received the wound destined for 
 his chief. 
 
 " Do not fear for your future fortunes, 
 my dear Greville ; " had been the parting 
 words of the grateful Lord Ravenswood, as 
 he wrung the hand of the voluntary exile; 
 " only be just to yourself, and you may yet 
 become an honour to your country and to your 
 name. Have no home -anxieties, but trust 
 to me. Go, and endeavour to repair your 
 past imprudence : you have sinned against 
 no one but yourself; you have never for- 
 feited your honour ; and you are still young 
 enough to create a prosperous future. Were 
 I a rich man we would not part thus, but 
 you are well aware that such is not the 
 case; therefore, professions on this subject 
 would be idle." 
 
 And after a last interview with Ferdinand 
 and Enna, the unhappy father, cheered by 
 this assurance, sobered by experience, and
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 11 
 
 hopeful of brighter days, bade adieu to 
 England. 
 
 The vessel in Avhich he embarked was 
 lost, Avith all hands on board, upon the 
 passage. 
 
 The orphans were too young to compre- 
 hend their loss. To them the fatal event 
 which had occurred involved no more than 
 Enna's removal from the somewhat austere 
 rule of a maiden grand-aunt, proud of her 
 pedigree, and scandalised by the conduct of 
 their father, to the guardianship of Lord 
 Ravens wood, to whom she was gladly re- 
 signed ; and that of Ferdinand from a circle 
 of boisterous, mischief -loving urchins, to the 
 companionship of his sister and the gentle 
 control of a matronly governess, to wdiose care 
 they were entrusted until Enna was removed 
 to a first-class seminary, and Eerdinand en- 
 tered at Eton, whence he was ultimately trans- 
 ferred to Cambridge, where he distinguished 
 himself so greatly as to flatter the pride, and 
 secure the endurinor affection of his noble 
 patron. 
 
 On the completion of Ferdinand's college 
 career Lord Ravenswood had reached his 
 fiftieth year ; and although generally respected
 
 12 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 and esteemed, he was, as lie had himself 
 declared, very far from wealthy. His ex- 
 tensive estates had come to him heavily 
 mortgaged ; and regarding rather the honour 
 of his name than his own personal gratification, 
 he had assiduously endeavoured, since his ac- 
 cession to the title, to diminish their incum- 
 brances. His establishment was consequently 
 by no means commensurate with his rank; 
 but as he had little taste for ostentation, and 
 that his habits were extremely simple, he 
 contrived to support his dignity even while 
 decreasing his liabilities ; and if he did at 
 times experience a regret that his means were 
 thus trammelled, it was only because he was 
 unable to do all the good for others to which 
 his warm heart would have prompted liim. 
 
 True to his system of economy, the Earl 
 had no town residence, but had, for several 
 seasons, occupied a furnished house belonging 
 to a widow lady of great Avealth, who, with 
 her only daughter, were his near neighbours. 
 As the husband of Mrs. Heathcote had ac- 
 quired his large fortune in commerce, she, 
 with a delicate sense of self-respect, forbore 
 to force her acquaintance upon her noble 
 tenant, although it may be admitted that she
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 13 
 
 greatly coveted the friendship of the elegant 
 and accomplished Enna for her beautiful Laara, 
 whose education had been completed under 
 her own watchful care, and who she knew to 
 be well worthy of such companionship. 
 
 Mrs. Heathcote had married very early in 
 life, and had only completed her thirty-sixth 
 year when we introduce her to our readers,, 
 while her daughter had just celebrated her 
 sixteenth birthday. Guido would have loved 
 to paint Laura Heathcote, her beauty was so 
 fair, so pure, and so angel-like: eyes as blue 
 as heaven, hair just touched with a golden 
 tint, which enhanced the dazzling clearness of 
 her complexion ; a form tall and finely-pro- 
 portioned, which gave promise of still greater 
 perfection in maturity, and graceful and supple 
 as that of a young fawn ; a manner winning 
 at once, from its calm gentleness and its 
 retiring modesty ; all combined to render the 
 fair girl the idol of her mother s heart. Nu- 
 merous had been the attempts made to induce 
 Mrs. Heathcote to contract a second marriage, 
 but they had signally failed, for all her hap- 
 piness centered in her child; and although 
 still handsome and attractive, she overlooked 
 her own personal advantages in those of Laura.
 
 14 A LirE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 The near neighbourhood of the two houses 
 had, as a necessary consequence, made the 
 family of Lord Ravenswood and that of Mrs. 
 Heathcote acquainted by sight, though no 
 communication had as yet taken place between 
 them ; but, nevertheless, Ferdinand Greville 
 had contrived to convince himself that his 
 Avhole heart was in the keeping of the lovely 
 young heiress ; Avhile tlie fair Laura, on her 
 side, had occasionally heaved a sigh as she 
 suffered her eyes to linger upon the manly 
 figure and handsome face of the Earl's adopted 
 son. If, however, the young lady w^ere un- 
 conscious of the feeling which she w\as thus 
 tacitly encouraging, such w^as, as we have 
 shown, by no means the case with the young 
 gentleman; and he would not so long have 
 delayed declaring his pas'sion had he not re- 
 membered that Miss Heathcote was one of 
 the richest heiresses in England, while he was 
 comparatively a very poor man, without either 
 profession or expectations. Under these cir- 
 cumstances he was well aware, that, although 
 w^ell born, he was by no means, in a worldly 
 point of view, an eligible match for the object 
 of his admiration. 
 
 In our gold-w^orshipping country, where
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 15 
 
 poverty is not only a misfortune but a crime, 
 the aristocracy of money is not less exacting 
 than that of rank ; wealth, as a general rule, 
 commands a title as stringently as high birth 
 assumes to itself the privilege of purchasing 
 fortune ; and Ferdinand could not blind him- 
 self to the fact, that the slender patrimony 
 and untitled name which he had inherited 
 from a profligate father, had invested him 
 with no right to aspire to the hand of one 
 so gifted by fortune as Miss Heathcote. 
 How often did he not curse the chance which 
 had raised up this barrier between them, and 
 persuade himself that, had she been poor, they 
 might have lived, if not luxuriously, at least 
 contentedly and happily, upon his modest in- 
 come! And then he might have obtained the 
 permission of Lord Ravenswood, hitherto 
 singularly withheld, to study a profession, he 
 cared not what or which, whereby he should 
 have it in his power to increase its amount. 
 To the young and sanguine nothing appears 
 difficult, nothing impossible ; and accordingly 
 Ferdinand Greville would have accepted with 
 equal readiness a prospect of the pulpit, the bar, 
 or the gold-headed cane, had he only seen the 
 angelic face of Laura in the far perspective.
 
 16 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 All these were dreams, however; and, dream 
 as he might, he could not separate Mr. Heath- 
 cote's daughter from his ducats. He had, 
 consequently, only to forget her, and this he 
 magnanimously resolved to do. Reason is an 
 admirable thing, no doubt; and the world 
 would be much wiser than it is were it always 
 submissive to its rule : whether it would be 
 happier in the aggregate, it were difficult to 
 say. There are so many flowers on this fair 
 earth which require sunshine to bring out 
 their tints, that it m.ay be doubted whether 
 some of the best and noblest feelings of the 
 human heart could be elicited were the natural 
 impulses to be weighed and measured, crushed 
 and calculated, at all times. Be this as it may, 
 however, it is at least certain that the grey- 
 beard Reason is no match for the boy-god 
 Love ; and thus the doughty resolution of the 
 enamoured Greville required only a very slight 
 temptation to crumble into nothingness.
 
 THE FIRST INTERVIEW. 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE FIRST INTERVIEW. 
 
 A ROYAL marriage was about to take place in 
 St. James's Chapel, which Mrs. Heathcote 
 was anxious to witness ; and after much hesi- 
 tation, and many entreaties from her daughter, 
 she at length determined upon requesting 
 Lord Ravenswuod to procure tickets for her- 
 self and Laura. 
 
 " There can be, I think, no impropriety in 
 asking this favour, my dear girl;" she said 
 fondly ; " as the Earl is quite aware that we 
 shall never presume ujjon his kindness. I 
 will therefore venture to intrude upon him 
 for once, for this is an extreme case, and I 
 feel sure that he will hold me excused." 
 
 And Mrs. Heathcote was right ; for Lord 
 Ravens wood, with his usual amiability, was so 
 happy to have it in his power to give pleasure, 
 that he really felt himself to be the obhged 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 person ; and he therefore desired Ferdinand, 
 who since his return from Cambridge had 
 acted as his private secretary, to deHver the 
 tickets in person, and to express to the lady 
 the gratification which he experienced in com- 
 plying with her wishes. 
 
 Perdinand felt for an instant as though 
 he were spell-bound; nor could he decide 
 whether the emotion which oppressed him 
 were one of pleasure or of pain. He had 
 never yet crossed the threshold of Mrs. 
 Heathcote, and he dreaded the effect which 
 might be produced on him on finding himself 
 in the midst of the objects by which Laura 
 was daily and hourly surrounded ; above all, 
 he dreaded that his countenance might betray 
 the feelings which he was only too conscious 
 that he had not yet overcome. There was, 
 however, no alternative; for what possible 
 reason could he advance for refusing to obey 
 the very simple request of his benefactor ? 
 Go he must; and accordingly, after having 
 seized his hat, glanced somewhat anxiously in 
 the chimney-glass, and taken the envelope 
 containing the tickets from the table, he set 
 forth to execute his commission ; almost hoping 
 that, as the day was so far advanced, the ladies
 
 THE FIRST INTERVIEW. 19 
 
 miglit be absent on their daily drive in the 
 Park. Almost convinced that such would be 
 the case he rang the door-bell, when in answer 
 to his inquiry he was informed that Mrs. 
 Heathcote was from home, and he was about 
 to leave the packet with the servant, but 
 while he was deliverino; the messasre of Lord 
 Ravenswood, he caught a glimpse of the 
 figure of Laura, as she was disappearing 
 throusih the door of the librarv. 
 
 "Can I see Miss Heathcote?" he asked, 
 unable to resist the temptation thus suddenly 
 presented to him. 
 
 " I will inquire if my young lady can 
 receive you, sir, if you will oblige me with 
 your name," said the man civilly. 
 
 In the next instant the card of Greville 
 w^as in his hand, and in a few more the visitor 
 found hiuiself in the presence of the blushing 
 and fluttered Laura, who, on seeing Ferdinand 
 under her mother's roof for the first time, and 
 during that mother's absence, could not sufii- 
 ciently control her agitation to receive him 
 with her usual grace and self-possession — a 
 fact of which she was so painfully aware, that 
 her very efforts to conceal her confusion only 
 rendered it the more apparent. The emotion
 
 20 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 of Miss Heatlicote restored the composure of 
 Greville, who proceeded to express to her the 
 pleasure with which Lord Kavenswood begged 
 Mrs. Heathcote's acceptance of the desired 
 tickets ; an assurance for which Laura mur- 
 mured her rather incoherent acknowledg- 
 ments, coupled with an assurance of the re- 
 gret which her mother would feel at having 
 lost the opportunity of thanking him herself. 
 She then motioned him to a chair, but she 
 did so with such evident constraint, that he 
 resisted his first impulse to profit by so un- 
 hoped-for an opportunity of conversing with 
 her, unimpeded by the })resence of a third 
 person ; and pleading an imperative appoint- 
 ment, hastened to withdraw. 
 
 But even this brief interview had sufficed to 
 scatter all his prudent resolutions to the wind. 
 He had listened to the Jow, soft, musical 
 voice of Laura ; he had seen her lovely 
 features glowing with the bright blush which 
 his own appearance had called up, and which, 
 as he intuitively felt, had betrayed the secret 
 of her heart ; and a delicious conviction that, 
 although they had just met for the first time, 
 he was not altogether indifferent to her, stole 
 over him. He forgot alike her wealth and
 
 THE FIRST INTERVIEW. 21 
 
 his own comparative poverty ; he forgot the 
 pride which had hitherto taught him to shrink 
 from all possible obligation to the woman 
 whom he loved ; and he remembered only 
 her grace, her beauty, and her sweetness, as 
 he asked himself why he should wilfully fling 
 from him the irreatest blessino; that life could 
 offer to his acceptance? Would it be the 
 first time, he mentally argued, that two beings 
 formed for each other, asserted their right to 
 secure their own happiness? Is there any- 
 thing to prevent my opening up for myself an 
 honourable and lucrative career in diplomacy 
 under the patronage of the Earl, who would 
 appear, from his having tacitly appointed me 
 his private secretary, to have had this very 
 end in view? Why, then, should I shrink 
 from doing justice to myself, when I may, ai 
 no very distant day, be enabled to place her 
 in a position worthy of her ? Surely, if she 
 really loves me, or may be brought to do so, 
 it were mere madness to blight my whole 
 existence from a false principle of pride. 
 
 Such is human nature, ever beset by 
 w^eakness and irresolution : at one moment 
 scrupulous, fearful, and undecided; in the 
 next, self-relying, confident, and uncalcu-
 
 22 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 lating; unjust in its distrust; presumptuous 
 in its hopes ; as easily discouraged as self- 
 deluded ; and almost always ready to sacrifice 
 to its own desires its convictions, and even its 
 conscience. 
 
 But different, far different, were tlie sen- 
 sations of Laura, when she once more found 
 herself alone after the abrupt departure of 
 Greville. The illusion by which her whole 
 existence had been tremblingly gladdened for 
 the last few months had been dispelled in less 
 than as many moments. To her, Ferdinand 
 had appeared cold, constrained, and haughty. 
 She had, or she believed that she had, de- 
 tected in his very look, as well as in the tones 
 of his voice, an assumption of superiority, 
 Avhich wounded even more than it angered 
 her; and which had put to flight a host of 
 pleasant fancies, in v,dnch she had hitherto 
 ahnost unconsciously indulged, as to what 
 might have been, had some happy accident 
 brought them together. He had been loftily 
 courteous, it was true, but that was all ; and he 
 had hurried from her presence as though the 
 necessity which impelled him there were dis- 
 tasteful to him, and that he cared not to 
 conceal that such was the case.
 
 THE FIRST INTERVIEW. 28 
 
 It was the first struggle of a young, pure 
 heart; and although the worldly-wise may 
 incline to sneer at it, it was none the less a 
 bitter one : nor was this bitterness diminished 
 by the consciousness that she had herself be- 
 trayed more emotion than so simple an occur- 
 rence as his visit to her mother ought to have 
 elicited. Judging by herself, therefore, she 
 could only arrive at one of two conclusions — 
 either that she was an object of perfect indif- 
 ference to him, or that he possessed an amount 
 of self-control which augured ill for the deli- 
 cacy of his sentiments and the goodness of his 
 heart. 
 
 Both were wrong. Ferdinand had suf- 
 fered his egotism to mislead him ; and Laura 
 judged by her own failure in self-command of 
 the moral strength of another, with whose 
 innate nature she was utterly unacquainted.
 
 24: A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 THE LETTER. 
 
 Greville did not immediately return home, 
 but kept the alleged appointment with himself 
 under a spreading oak near the Home Farm, 
 where he knew that he should at that hour 
 be free from interruption ; and the more he 
 reflected upon his interview with Miss Heath- 
 cote, the more he almost suffered himself to 
 believe that his union with the beautiful heiress 
 was by no means so impossible as he had once 
 taught himself to believe. Yet tormenting 
 doubts assailed him nevertheless. Hitherto 
 their eyes had only met in church, or in a 
 casual encounter in the street, as he invo- 
 luntarily reined up his horse when passing 
 the well-appointed equipage of Mrs. Heath- 
 cote, and it might be that the lovely Laura 
 was still too new to society to meet a perfect 
 stranger with the graceful composure which
 
 THE LETTER. 2o 
 
 he had accustomed himself to attribute to 
 her ; but the iuuate vanity of his sex and age 
 combated this suspicion so resohitely, that 
 in spite of himself the hope which he sought, 
 or fancied that he sought to banish, returned 
 upon him, and he eagerly anticipated the 
 moment when he might convince himself that 
 he vras really loved by the only woman whose 
 affection he had ever cared to win. 
 
 But how was this to be accomplished? 
 He had himself, by his own abruptness, termi- 
 nated every chance of all further communica- 
 tion with the Heathcote familv : for in vain 
 did he strive to hope that Mrs. Heathcote would 
 construe the crude fact of his having been the 
 bearer of Lord Ravenswood's message into an 
 opening of acquaintanceship : her past reserve 
 forbade such a thought for an instant ; while 
 it seemed equally certain that the report which 
 her dausjhter would be enabled to make of 
 his bearing on that occasion would be pecu- 
 liarly ill-fitted to encourage her in the project, 
 even had she been inclined to form it. 
 
 What was to be done ? 
 
 Two hours went by. He was still as 
 perplexed and undecided as ever; and even 
 more hopelessly convinced than when he left
 
 26 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 Grosvenor Street, that he could not long 
 endure the state of uncertainty for which he 
 was in a great degree indebted to his own 
 folly. How could such an opportunity ever 
 occur again? It appeared simply impossible ; 
 and he had now consequently no other method 
 of making known his love to Laura than in 
 writing. But how was his letter to be con- 
 veyed to her? How would it be received? 
 And how, should he really have suffered him- 
 self to be deluded by his own hopes and 
 wishes, would she not resent what, in such a 
 case, she could only consider as an imperti- 
 nence ? The more these objections and diffi- 
 culties presented themselves, however, the 
 more resolute he became to carry out his 
 purpose. The soft, timid voice was still vi- 
 brating in his ears like the last, low, trembling 
 tones of an Eolian harp ; the long lashes of 
 the downcast eyelids still seemed to veil, 
 without obscuring, the rich light of the deep, 
 love-beaming blue eyes ; there was, in short, 
 madness in the thoudit that he midit lose 
 her through his own want of energy and 
 manhness ; and as he sprang up from his 
 recumbent position, and made his way towards 
 the Grosvenor Gate, he determined to repair
 
 THE LETTER. 27 
 
 Ins fault at once, and to trust to his stars 
 (the lucky ones, of course) for the means of 
 conveying his letter. 
 
 True to his purpose, "he had no sooner 
 arrived at home than sweeping from his desk 
 a mass of applications from tenants for reduc- 
 tions in their rents, complaints from game- 
 keepers of the incursions of poachers, and 
 similarly interesting documents, he drew forth 
 a quire of cream-laid note paper, and forthwith 
 poured out upon it all the hidden feelings of 
 his soul. He was at once tender and respect- 
 ful ; he admitted the presumption of which 
 he was guilty ; but he nevertheless pleaded 
 the cause of his passion so earnestly and so 
 energetically that he felt convinced he should 
 be forgiven. " Even if she loves me not ; " 
 he murmured to himself; "she cannot surely 
 be so cold-hearted as to resent the fact of my 
 loving her ! What woman could be utterly 
 insensible to a devotion so sincere as mine?" 
 And so the letter was folded in its envelope, 
 and secured by a seal, — not one of those sickly, 
 and now (fortunately) almost obsolete devices 
 which were permitted by the last generation, 
 on similar contingencies, to reveal the nature 
 of the epistle to which they were attached.
 
 28 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 but the simple crest of his family, surrounded 
 by a garter bearing the sufficiently significative 
 motto, Far sempre. On this occasion no 
 better legend could have been devised. 
 
 So far all had been comparatively easy ; 
 but the letter once written, the important 
 question obtruded itself, of — How was it to 
 reach the hands of the fair being to whom it 
 was addressed? And this question was one 
 by no means easily answered. To intrust its 
 delivery to a menial was a proceeding repug- 
 nant to the delicacy of Greville, and one which 
 must compromise the dignity of Miss Heath- 
 cote; the post was not to be thought of for 
 an instant, as the precious missive upon which 
 all his future hopes of happiness were based, 
 might fall into the hands of her mother. 
 Could he only give it to her himsejf ! But 
 how ? Where and when would the opportunity 
 present itself? And how could he be sure 
 that, even if he possessed that opportunity, 
 she would not refuse to receive it ? 
 
 These were very unpleasant reflections ; 
 and for the present the discomfited and dis- 
 heartened Perdinand could only deposit the 
 precious document in his pocket-book, and 
 endeavour to hope almost against hope.
 
 THE LETTER. 2^ 
 
 As Lord Ravenswood had expressed his 
 wish that Enna and her brother should be 
 present at the august ceremony of the royal 
 marriage, Greville had no alternative but to 
 obey ; and having handed his sister to her 
 seat, he left the chapel in the vague hope of 
 obtaining a passing glance at Miss Heathcote. 
 Nor was he disappointed, for he had scarcely 
 had time to exchange salutations with half a 
 dozen of his friends, who were, like himself, 
 watching the arrival of the company, when he 
 caudit sidit of the well-known carriao^e of 
 
 DO O 
 
 Mrs. Heathcote, and hastened to offer his arm 
 to her as she alighted ; an attention by which 
 she was evidently much gratified. As he 
 conducted her to the places assigned for her- 
 self and her daughter — by whom she was 
 closely followed — Laura suddenly remembered 
 that she had left her prayer-book in the 
 carriage, and he had no sooner seen his fair 
 charges in possession of their seats, than he 
 hastened, amid many apologies froai both 
 ladies, in search of it. Nothing, as he re- 
 flected at the moment, could have happened 
 more fortunately; and he was no sooner in pos- 
 session of the velvet-covered, golden-clasped 
 volume, than his carefully-hoarded letter was
 
 30 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 deposited between its pages, and ere long, 
 whether it were that the beautiful owner of 
 the book Avas ignorant of the nature of the 
 communication which had been thus surrepti- 
 tiously introduced where assuredly no letter of 
 the kind should ever have intruded, or that 
 some vague suspicion of the truth stole over 
 the heart of the conscious recipient, certain it 
 is that ere many minutes had elapsed, the 
 little envelope with its precious contents was 
 cleverly removed from the book, and concealed 
 amid the cobweb folds of the handkerchief 
 which she carried in her hand. 
 
 Ferdinand, who had never for an instant 
 lost sight of her after his return to the chapel, 
 felt his heart bound as he detected the move- 
 ment ; and satisfied that he had now secured 
 an opportunity of pleading his own cause, he 
 quietly established himself beside his sister. 
 
 "But, even when my letter is in her 
 hands;" he asked himself, a moment after- 
 wards ; " how can I be sure that she will read 
 it ? And yet, I think she will ; for I could 
 detect no displeasure on her sweet face as she 
 concealed it, although my proceeding is most 
 certainly unjustifiable. Neither the means 
 nor the place were such as I should have
 
 THE LETTER. 31 
 
 rendered subservient to my own selfish passion. 
 Why was I so rash — so blinded to every 
 sense of propriety? Why had I not more 
 control over myself? I have acted unwor- 
 thily, and I deserve that she should despise 
 and spurn me. What if she were to doubt 
 the purity and sincerity of my passion, and 
 to attribute to me the interested motives to 
 which such a proceeding' may lay me open to 
 suspicion — shall I not have lost her for ever, 
 and lost her through my own imprudence ? 
 But it is vain to argue with my fears ; it is 
 too late to repent my precipitancy ; and had 
 I not incurred this risk, and preferred to 
 follow the beaten track to which custom and 
 the usages of society would have compelled 
 me, should I not have exposed myself to a 
 more formal repulse? Had I asked her hand 
 of her mother, should I not have incurred the 
 mortification of findinsr mvself reduced to the 
 necessity of admitting that I was poor, and of 
 being regarded as a needy fortune-hunter ? 
 Of this there can be no doubt ; but still this 
 does not extenuate my fault/' 
 
 And meanwhile the brilliant pageant passed 
 before him unheeded; the solemn tones of 
 the organ and the melodious voices of the
 
 32 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 choristers were alike unheard ; and he was 
 only aroused from his reverie by the move- 
 ment occasioned by the termination of the 
 ceremony, and the departure of the glittering 
 groups by whom it had been witnessed. 
 
 Blame himself as he might, however, it is 
 certain that Greville nevertheless felt more 
 light of heart than he had done since his 
 interview with Laura in Grosvenor Street ; 
 and although there were still moments in 
 which he believed that he had wrecked his 
 own hopes, and was indignant at his own 
 presumption, there were others in which he 
 acquitted himself of all blame, and indulged 
 in the wildest visions of happiness and suc- 
 cess. Conscious of the disinterestedness and 
 truth of his attachment, he felt as though it 
 were impossible that it should be either mis- 
 interpreted or despised ; and thus, alternating 
 between hope and fear, he awaited the result 
 of his somewhat hazardous experiment.
 
 FAMILY CONNEXIONS. 38 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 FAMILY CONNEXIONS. 
 
 We are obliged to confess that Laura read 
 the letter. She felt that it was wroiin; to do 
 so, and that she ought either to have sent it 
 back (for she was at no loss to understand 
 that no hand, save that of Mr. Greville, could 
 have placed it where it was found), or have 
 immediately carried it to her mother; but 
 then, in either case, she would probably have 
 remained in ignorance till Doomsday of the 
 nature of its contents ; and her philosophy was 
 not proof against such a trial. Bow she 
 turned it over and over in her little white 
 hands before she broke the seal ! How pretty 
 the name of Heathcote, upon which she had 
 never hitherto bestowed a thought, looked in 
 the fine manly characters in which it was 
 written on the address ! And what a pleasant 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 mystery there was in the manner in which it 
 had come into her possession ! In fact, she 
 examined it much as Pandora may have been 
 supposed to examine the magic box which 
 was destined to reveal to her the great secret 
 of human existence, and with quite as earnest 
 a desire to make herself mistress of the mys- 
 tery. At length it lay open before her, and 
 a rapid glance at once convinced her that she 
 had altogether mistaken the sentiments of 
 Perdinand. No ! she was not an object of 
 indifference to him. No ! happy and self- 
 reconciling thought ! she had not taught 
 herself to love one by whom her love was 
 disregarded. No one who read that letter 
 could doubt the depths the fervency of Gre- 
 ville's attachment. Young to life, and know- 
 ing nothing of its trials and disappointments, 
 the ingenuous girl saw no obstacles before her, 
 no impediments to the success of a marriage 
 which she felt, or believed, would render her 
 the most enviable of her sex ; she gave herself 
 up, in short, to one of those blessed visions 
 which can only be enjoyed in early youth, 
 ere the world and its cold, stern exigences 
 have taught our hearts that the privilege of 
 joy involves also the necessity of suffering.
 
 FAMILY CONNEXIONS. 35 
 
 " Of course;" she said to herself, with a 
 certain dignity derived from the new-born 
 consciousness of being beloved ; "he will now 
 propose for me to mamma; and I must en- 
 deavour to appear very much surprised when 
 she makes me acquainted with the fact. I hope 
 he will not be long before he makes up his 
 mind to do it. I am sure that he need not fear 
 her displeasure, for she is so kind, so indul- 
 gent, and so anxious to secm^e my happiness, 
 that when she sees how perfectly satisfied I am 
 to accept him as my husband, she will not raise 
 any unnecessary obstacles to oiu: union. Dear 
 Ferdinand! Who could resist such a letter? 
 How beautifully he expresses his sentiments ! 
 how unaffectedly he pours forth his heart ! 
 and how singular that he should have loved 
 me from the first time that I found myself 
 dreaming of him, and believing that the 
 woman who gained his affections must be the 
 most happy creature upon earth ! " And then, 
 having fully satisfied herself on that point, 
 she re-read the letter, and pondered over every 
 sentence as though she were endeavouring to 
 solve some difficult enigma. She analysed 
 each expression ; pondered over each phrase 
 which might, as she fancied, admit of a double
 
 36 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 solution; and bewildered herself in the at- 
 tempt to give it that which she supposed to 
 have been the meaning of the writer. But 
 who does not remember the rapture of lin- 
 gering over the first love-letter? A woman 
 who loves is as slow in finishing her task as a 
 child in studying its alphabet. 
 
 Laura was well aware that more than one 
 proposal had already been made for her hand, 
 although they had all been declined by her 
 mother, without even a reference to herself; 
 nor had Mrs. Heathcote given any other 
 reason for her decision upon the subject than 
 her firm determination that her daughter 
 should not marry before she had completed 
 her eighteenth year. It is, therefore, scarcely 
 necessary to say that these several suitors were 
 by no means discouraged, but rather waited 
 patiently until the stipulated period, ready once 
 more to enter the list when the fair heiress 
 should be more approachable. Riches and 
 beauty combined were by no means to be 
 lightly lost. 
 
 Like a prudent woman, Mrs. Heathcote 
 did not care to explain to the marrying young 
 men of her set that she had arrived at a reso- 
 lution respecting the establishment of her
 
 FAMILY CONNEXIONS. 37 
 
 daughter, which rendered them, one and all, 
 inehgible. The description of husband that 
 she desired for her precious Laura had not 
 yet presented himself; nor, to tell the truth, 
 had she sought for him : she was too ra- 
 tional, and had, moreover, too great a regard 
 for her child's dignity to do so; but she had 
 also a firm will, and a full conviction that 
 what she had once really willed would be 
 accomplished. 
 
 That riches do not make happiness, is an 
 apophthegm as true as it is trite ; and Islvs, 
 Heathcote, enormously wealthy as she was, 
 afforded an example of that truth. There 
 vras "a skeleton in the closet" beneath her 
 roof, as there is beneath many others — one of 
 those canker-worms in her bosom which 
 frequently gnaw away the sweetness of pros- 
 perity, as noxious insects prey upon the finest 
 fruits. In the case of Mrs. Heathcote, the 
 canker-worm was wounded vanity — a feeling 
 that neutralized all the gratification which she 
 might otherwise have derived from a con- 
 sciousness that she was in possession of all the 
 best gifts of fortune; and, unhappily, this 
 feeling had been awakened by one to whom 
 she was closely knit by relationship, if not by 
 affection.
 
 38 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 The elder sister of Mrs. Heathcote had 
 become the wife of a baronet. He was old 
 enough to be her father, certainly; but, pretty 
 and attractive as she was, she could not resist 
 the charm of the " bloody hand," although it 
 had been gloved for nearly fifty years : and 
 from the period of her marriage Lady Wil- 
 loughby had overwhelmed her untitled sister 
 with mortification and sarcasm.. When occa- 
 sionally reminded of the princely wealth of 
 the merchant's widow, she universally re- 
 sponded by the one word, " Trade ! " and 
 changed the subject, as though she felt herself 
 contaminated by the connexion. 
 
 The ungenerous disdain of her sister had 
 not long been suffered to remain unknown to 
 Mrs. Heathcote. The gossips of her circle — 
 and where are there not gossips to be found ? 
 — were only, too well pleased to remind her of 
 the origin of the riches which they envied, at 
 the same time that they convinced her of their 
 own regard by animadverting on the ill-nature 
 of Lady Willoughby. For a considerable time 
 Mrs. Heathcote had refused to give credence 
 to what she conceived to be mere idle tales ; 
 nor was it until she found herself compelled 
 to believe in their truth that she suffered 
 herself to be annoyed and irritated by the
 
 TAMILY COXNEXIOXS. 39 
 
 superciliousness of her sister; and even tlien 
 she would not permit any one to perceive how 
 keenly she felt the indignity to which she vras 
 subjected. Above all, she resolved never to 
 betray the fact to Lady AYilloughby ; who, 
 before her marriage, had acted towards her 
 like a second mother. Consequently there 
 was no quarrel between the sisters, although 
 all sympathy was at an end ; and that Mrs. 
 Heathcote deeply resented the unkindness 
 of her relative, while she calmly awaited her 
 revenge. She felt that the means of securing 
 that revencre were within her reach ; and as it 
 was her self-love which had been stung, so 
 she resolved that she would in her turn sting 
 that of her exulting and disdainful persecutor. 
 The Willoughby family consisted of the 
 baronet, his wife, and their idohzed son 
 x\rthur, whom they had in vain striven to 
 inoculate with their heraldic prejudices. Loath- 
 ing the trammels of etiquette, and enjoying 
 life whenever its pleasures were offered to liis 
 acceptance, he could not, or would not, under- 
 stand that a score of dead ancestors, or a 
 proud name, should prove an equivalent for 
 the more tangible gratification of social indul- 
 gences.
 
 40 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 As his stately parents always passed the 
 season in town, Arthur was enabled to see a 
 great deal of his aunt and cousin, and availed 
 himself very frequently of such pretexts as he 
 could find, or invent, to escape from the tedious 
 and heavy dinners of the baronet, in order to 
 join the little party in Grosvenor Street. 
 ^Fortunately he was not a man of strong 
 feelings, though he had soon discovered that 
 Laura was very pretty and very lovable ; nor 
 was he by any means insensible to the fact, 
 that her yearly thousands would make a 
 welcome addition to his own somewhat cir- 
 cumscribed income : but, as he shrewdly 
 suspected that Sir Marmaduke and Lady 
 Willoughby would never consent to his be- 
 coming the son-in-law of a merchant, he 
 wisely forbore to ask the hand of his cousin, 
 made himself as happy as could be expected 
 under the circumstances, and trusted to time 
 to accomplish for him what he was afraid to 
 undertake for himself. 
 
 In short, if Ferdinand Greville yearned 
 after the romance of life, Arthur Willoughby 
 clung to its realities; and never were two 
 men of the same age so totally opposed in 
 tastes and character. More than once our
 
 FAMILY CONNEXIONS. 41 
 
 hero — for we may as well confess, without 
 further reservation, that Ferdinand Greville 
 is our hero — more than once had he watched, 
 with a throbbing pulse and a flashing eye, the 
 exits and entrances of his presumed rival 
 through the well-known door which was closed 
 against himself; and marvelled how Laura 
 met and parted from the bright-eyed un- 
 known, who was for rhonths at a time so 
 assiduous in his visits. 
 
 Poor Laura ! Could he have looked into 
 her heart, he might have spared himself all 
 further speculation ; for she had unconsciously 
 fallen into the very reprehensible habit of 
 comparing the two together, and of wonder- 
 ing whether, should she ever, by some extra- 
 ordinary chance, make the acquaintance of 
 Mr. Greville, she should find him as frivolous 
 and as self-satisfied as her cousin. As for 
 loving Arthur, the idea never for an instant 
 entered her mind : he amused her, and she 
 was grateful for the little attentions which 
 it appeared to afi'ord him pleasure to pay 
 her : but love does not build up its abiding- 
 place upon so flimsy and paltry a foundation 
 as this ! It must have more sohd materials 
 to work upon. If the miser hides his gold,
 
 42 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 SO does a sincere worshipper of the blind god 
 conceal his best and most fervent aspirations ; 
 when they are broad-cast like grain, rank 
 weeds spring up among them, and they lose 
 their value to the reaper. One look from 
 Ferdinand — and by some chance Laura had 
 encountered more than one, long before the 
 sound of Mr. Greville's voice had fallen upon 
 her ear — was more precious to her, strive to 
 conceal it from herself as she might, than all 
 the courtesies of her cousin. If, therefore, 
 such was the case previous to the visit of 
 Ferdinand, how did the spell deepen after 
 that visit ! And yet Miss Heathcote would 
 have been sorely puzzled to explain why it 
 should be so, for assuredly a more impro- 
 mising interview had never taken place than 
 that in which Laura had contrived to appear 
 absolutely awkward, and Lord Ravenswood's 
 envoy had seemed to have no anxiety so great 
 as that of escaping from her presence. 
 
 Thus it was, however ; alid it was only a 
 week or two after the royal marriage, to 
 which we have already alluded, that as they 
 sat together at a tete-a-tete breakfast, Mrs. 
 Heathcote, looking affectionately at her daugh- 
 ter, inquired if she had lately remembered
 
 FAMILY CONNEXIONS. 48 
 
 that the ninth of the followmg month would 
 be her birthday, and that on that occasion 
 she would have attained the dignified age of 
 seventeen ? 
 
 " No, indeed, my dear mamma ; strange 
 to say, I had quite forgotten it ;" said Laura, 
 with a smile, which was somewhat unnaturally 
 succeeded by a sigh : " bat so it is, indeed. 
 Why, I am becoming quite a matronly per- 
 sonage ! " 
 
 " And how can I give you the greatest 
 pleasure on this important anniversary, my 
 beloved child ?" asked the fond mother. 
 " You know I shall not refuse anv reasonable 
 request that you may make ; and as I have 
 never yet found you exorbitant in your de- 
 mands on my indulgence, I scarcely think 
 that you need apprehend any disappointment 
 on the present occasion." 
 
 " You know, dear mamma, that you pro- 
 mised me a ball." 
 
 " I did, darling : but that will scarcely be 
 a novelty ; we have had three, if I do not 
 mistake, within the last two years." 
 
 " That is quite true ; " assented Miss 
 Heathcote ; and then, for some reason or 
 other, which she evidently did not consider
 
 44 
 
 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 it necessary to explain, she again sighed, and 
 added a great deal more sugar to her coffee 
 than it could possibly require ; "But you 
 must not think me ungrateful if I confess 
 that, although I certainly enjoyed myself 
 very much, and danced a great deal at those 
 three balls, and that they were very nice, and 
 that every one said they v^^ere charming, and 
 all that kind of thing, I feel as if I did not 
 care half so much for this one that you are 
 now going to give." 
 
 "• Why, what a capricious little being you 
 must be, Laura! You, who have so often 
 declared that there was nothing in the world 
 you loved so much as dancing ! " 
 
 " Liked, dear mamma, not loved;'' was 
 the odd rejoinder : " to love, it strikes me 
 that one must look for something like a re- 
 sponse to the feeling. For example," she 
 continued, as a vivid blush rose to her cheek ; 
 " I love ^ou, because I know that my affec- 
 tion is returned; but a mere amusement! 
 Surely one ought not to waste one's best feel- 
 ings upon anything so purely selfish and so 
 very transitory ? There ! don't laugh at me ; " 
 she pursued, as she caught her mother's eye ; 
 " for I know that I am talking nonsense ;
 
 FAMILY CONNEXIONS. 45 
 
 but, to tell you the truth, I long for a little 
 noyelty. I have seen the same faces over and 
 over till I have learnt them by heart." 
 
 " Nonsense, indeed, dear child ! Why, my 
 list of invitations already extends to fom* hun- 
 dred, and you must have a most extraordinary 
 memory if you can recall them all !" said Mrs. 
 Heathcote quietly. 
 
 " But when one knows that they have 
 been here as a matter of course, whenever 
 you have received your friends, mamma, one 
 feels as though one had a certain right to be 
 weary of them ; and you see that I am very 
 perversely incKned to avail myself of the 
 privilege." 
 
 The mother looked grave ; and then, after 
 a moment's silence, remarked : — 
 
 " You are well aware, my love, that it is 
 by no means easy to acquire new acquaintance 
 in London which may appear perfectly unex« 
 ceptionable. Now I confess to you, Laura, 
 that I should be as well pleased as yourself 
 to succeed in doing this, and numbering a 
 few among my guests upon whom your aunt 
 might find it somewhat more difficult to lavish 
 her sarcasms than she does upon the perfectly 
 respectable, but still untitled, clique to which
 
 46 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 Ave have hitherto been confined. I have, 
 indeed, several very important reasons for 
 wishing that this could be effected, but I 
 do not really see how, at this particular mo- 
 ment, it can be done." 
 
 "It strikes me, madre mia ;'' replied her 
 daughter, as she amused herself by making 
 a sort of Chinese puzzle with the crusts of her 
 dry toast ; " that as Lord Ravenswood vi^as 
 polite enough to leave his card at your door 
 in acknowledgment of your note thanking him 
 for the tickets he procured for us, and as he 
 is also your tenant, there would be nothing 
 at all strange, or — or — you know what I 
 mean, of course — in sending cards to him 
 and his nephew and niece. I should so 
 very much like to make a friend of Miss 
 Greville." 
 
 " And of all things in the world that is 
 the one which I desire the most;" said her 
 mother with a slightly flurried manner ; " but I 
 fear that I am scarcely justified in taking such 
 a liberty. You are aware, Laura, that I am 
 very careful never to intrude my acquaintance 
 on any one ; and it might seem " 
 
 " What could \i seem, my dear mamma;" 
 interposed the younger lady anxiously ; " ex-
 
 FAMILY CONNEXIONS. 47 
 
 cept that you wislied to show a proper courtesy 
 to the Earl ? who, you must remember, is quite 
 at liberty to decline the invitation ; when, of 
 course, it would never be repeated." 
 
 " But the refusal would wound me deeply, 
 Laura." 
 
 " I do not think," was the rejoinder of the 
 persevering young beauty ; " that you need 
 apprehend a refusal. We have no title, it is 
 true ; but how many untitled persons, with no 
 more claim than ourselves, are intimate with 
 the nobility? Be persuaded, mother dear, 
 and let me have that invitation-card for my 
 bouquet de fete'' 
 
 Mrs. Heathcote still hesitated, but she 
 could not long resist the pleading look of her 
 daughter ; and it was consequently decided, 
 before they rose from the breakfast-table, that 
 the important invitation should be forthwith 
 despatched. 
 
 The fingers of the fair Laura trembled a 
 little as she inserted the names upon the card, 
 and delivered it to the footman ; and it may 
 be doubted w^hether she would so pertinaci- 
 ously have follow^ed up her purpose had Lord 
 Ravenswood been the sole tenant of her mo- 
 ther's house.
 
 48 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 Within an hour a servant, in the Eaii's 
 livery, left a letter at the door, in vj^hich the 
 invitation of Mrs. Heathcote was courteously 
 acknowledged and accepted ; and in the 
 course of the morning Arthur Willoughby 
 dropped in, as usual, to inquire for his aunt 
 and cousin ; when he was entrusted with an- 
 other card, addressed to Sir Marmaduke and 
 his mother, accompanied by a verbal request 
 that he would consider himself engaged to 
 accompany them without a more formal bid- 
 ding, as, " with the exception of the Earl of 
 Ravenswood and Mr. and Miss Greville, who 
 had already promised her the pleasure of their 
 company," Mrs. Heathcote had as yet issued 
 no other invitations. 
 
 With a somewhat startled bow the young- 
 man expressed his thanks, and the gratification 
 he should feel in celebrating the birthday of 
 his cousin in so agreeable a manner; and, 
 satisfied that in giving the card to his mother 
 he would be certain to mention to her the 
 fact of Lord Ravenswood's intended presence 
 at the ball, Mrs. Heathcote already experienced 
 a foretaste of the triumph which awaited her. 
 And Arthur did mention it ; but Lady Wil- 
 loughby received the intelligence in a manner
 
 FAMILY COXNEXIOXS. 49 
 
 that would have stung her sister to the quick, 
 had she been present. The worthy lady 
 coloured sHghtly, it is true, and for an instant 
 looked excessively annoyed; but she rallied 
 at once, and flino-ino- down her own invitation 
 upon her work-table with a bitter sneer, said, 
 sarcastically : — 
 
 " How easily poor Arabella is daped ! 
 What a pity she should expose herself by 
 announcing that the Earl will appear in her 
 rooms, when she may rely on it that he will 
 be attacked by gout on the morning of that 
 precise day, and that the two Grevilles will be 
 obliged to remain at home to nurse him. She 
 really ought to have more sense 1 " 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 50 A LIFE-STRUGGLE, 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE BIRTHDAY-BALL. 
 
 Mrs. Heathcote, meanwhile, enchanted at 
 the success of her preliminary arrangements, 
 resolved that she would at the forthcoming 
 ball excel all her former efforts ; and as money 
 works marvels, particularly in London, she 
 found, as the various preparations progressed, 
 that there was little risk of failure. Her 
 really splendid drawing-rooms were resplen- 
 dent with glass and gilding; and when the 
 eventful evening at length arrived, and that a 
 brilliant .flood of light illuminated the whole 
 suite, the coup d'ml was most enchanting. 
 Exotic plants, gorgeous with blossoms and 
 rich with perfume, lined the hall and stair- 
 case ; the orchestra consisted of the most 
 talented musicians to be obtained ; and as she 
 walked for the last time through the fairy- 
 scene which the golden rod of Piutus had
 
 THE BIRTHDAY-BALL. 51 
 
 conjured up, ere she proceeded to put the last 
 touch to her toilette, it was with a smile of 
 satisfied pride that she looked around her, 
 and felt that all her wishes had been accom- 
 plished. When she returned to the outer 
 room prepared to receive her guests, with a 
 light in her eyes and a glow upon her cheek 
 which heightened her matronly beauty ; with 
 her still bright and abundant dark hair plainly 
 banded across her smooth brow, and gathered 
 in a heavy knot at the back of her head, and 
 the ample folds of her rich black velvet dress 
 falling gracefully about her fine and fully- 
 developed form, she looked as though, had she 
 cared to do so, she might even have challenged 
 the rivalry of her beautiful daughter. 
 
 But no idle vanity or thought of self at 
 that moment occupied the maternal bosom of 
 Mrs. Heathcote ; in all that was brightest and 
 best she saw only objects which would please 
 and gratify her child ; and then her thoughts 
 wandered away into the future, and she 
 dreamt dreams so gladdening to a mother's 
 heart, that she had not one unoccupied instant 
 in which to remember that she might herself 
 still prove an object of attraction to many. 
 
 There is perhaps nothing more beautiful 
 
 LiBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOiS^
 
 52 x\. LIFE- STRUGGLE. 
 
 on earth than the self-abnegation of a mother ! 
 And where, as in Mrs. Heathcote's case, that 
 mother is possessed of sufficient personal 
 beauty to please, the quality is enhanced 
 tenfold. Let this be remembered as a coun- 
 terpoise to the weak ambition which led her 
 to commit a folly unworthy of herself and of 
 her deep and earnest affection for her child. 
 But we must not anticipate. 
 
 Ten o'clock had scarcely struck from the 
 or-molu and malachite time-piece on the velvet- 
 draped mantel when the guests began to arrive, 
 and the rooms rapidly filled. Laura looked 
 pre-eminently handsome, but not quite so self- 
 possessed as might have been desired. Her 
 fair cheek flushed and faded, and in the midst 
 of the flattery by which she was surrounded 
 her eyes wandered restlessly towards the 
 staircase. Among the earlier arrivals were the 
 Willoughby family, and as the lady offered a 
 couple of fingers to her sister, she glanced 
 curiously about her, concluding the rapid sur- 
 vey by remarking : — 
 
 " Ah, the old set, I see, as usual. Surely, 
 Arabella, it was scarcely worth while to make 
 quite such a gorgeous display of the wealth 
 which it cost your poor husband the labour
 
 THE BIRTHDAY-BALL. 58 
 
 of a lifetime to amass, in order to entertain or 
 astonish a parcel of people who are fully aware 
 of the amount of your settlement ? It is all 
 really very pretty — very pretty, indeed — and 
 does your upholsterer and florist infinite credit; 
 but it is a sad pity that it should be so thrown 
 away. By the by, you must forgive Sir ^lar- 
 maduke and myself if we should seem rather 
 flat at your ball ; we know so few of your 
 friends, and we were very late last night at Lady 
 Deborah Downcastle's whist -party. How- 
 ever, we will do our best to keep awake.'' 
 
 And Lady AVilloughby swept on, in order 
 to pass her judgment upon the arrangements 
 of the other rooms, in the same kind and con- 
 ciliatory spuit in which she had accosted her 
 sister. 
 
 Meanwhile Sir Marmaduke had sunk with 
 a growl into a capacious arm-chair ; from 
 whence " the sixteenth baronet," as his wife 
 delighted to call him, could command an ad- 
 mirable view of the company as they arrived, 
 and convince himself (greatly to his satisfac- 
 tion, for the long-descended but shallow-pated 
 old gentleman was most undeniably jealous of 
 his afiiuent sister-in-law) that Lord Ravens- 
 wood was not among them.
 
 54 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " A sharp attack of the gout, as I pro- 
 phesied, my love ; " whispered Lady Wil- 
 loiighby, as she returned to his side ; " how 
 could Arabella be such a fool?" 
 
 She w^as answered by a quiet chuckle. 
 
 " And only imagine," she pursued, with a 
 scornful curl of the lip ; " the first thing that 
 wrong-headed boy Arthur did was to endea- 
 vour to engage Laura for the first dance, "when 
 she had the presumption to tell him that she 
 was engaged. Engaged, indeed ! No doubt 
 the poor child is as mad as her mother, and 
 is waiting in the hope of opening the ball with 
 the Earl's favourite. What an absurd affair 
 it is altogether ! Look at her — in a little dress 
 of white muslin, and without even a flower in 
 her hair, like a young miss upon a short allow- 
 ance of pocket-money. How^ I do loathe such 
 affectation ! " 
 
 " Lord Ravenswood — Mr. and Miss Gre- 
 ville" — announced the servant who stood near 
 Mrs. Heathcote; and Lady Willoughby grasped 
 the arm of her husband's chair, as she quivered 
 with annoyance and disappointment. 
 
 The Earl had not been attacked by gout 
 after all ! 
 
 In the next instant Lady Willoughby gUded
 
 THE BIRTHDAY-BALL. 55 
 
 towards her sister, until she was near enough 
 to hear what passed between her and her 
 newly-arrived guests. 
 
 As she reached the desired spot, Lord 
 Ravenswood was excusing himself in the most 
 courtly terms for his tardy appearance. He 
 had dined at the Palace, and had been unable 
 to leave before eleven o'clock. "I am quite 
 aware," he added ; " that fashion would have 
 still allowed me a couple of hours, had I de- 
 sired it : bat, my dear madam, I did not desire 
 it ; and after your extreme courtesy in remem- 
 bering my young people, from whom I always 
 regret to be separated on every occasion when 
 I am certain to feel gratified myself, I was 
 anxious not to lose a moment in availing my- 
 self, and them, of your kindness. And now, 
 will you honour me with your arm while we 
 make a tour of the rooms, and endeavour to 
 discover your fair daughter among the dancers? 
 I have as yet only seen her from a distance, 
 but what I have seen of her renders me doubly 
 anxious to make her acquaintance." 
 
 The heart of Mrs. Heathcote bounded as 
 she took the ofi'ered arm, and passed on with- 
 out even seeing her discomfited sister, whom 
 the presence of the Earl had compelled to
 
 56 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 abdicate her fancied supremacy under the roof 
 of her untitled relative. Mr. and Miss Gre- 
 ville followed in their wake; the quiet ele- 
 gance of the one, and the strikingly handsome 
 person of the other, attracting all eyes. 
 
 " I cannot think where my little girl has 
 hidden herself;" said the hostess, when they 
 had vainly sought her among the dancers ; and 
 Ferdinand Greville was beginning to believe 
 that something very dreadful must have hap- 
 pened to the young heiress. *' Ha ! yonder she 
 stands, in the bay of the window. Naughty 
 little puss ! what can make her so idle ? " 
 
 As the group approached Laura turned 
 her head, and when her eyes met those of 
 Ferdinand she coloured deeply; nor w^as the 
 young man himself less agitated. He had 
 not been in the presence of Miss Heathcote 
 since she so tacitly dismissed him; and he 
 had yet to learn the effect produced upon her 
 by his letter. The unassuming grace with 
 which she acknowledged the flattering atten- 
 tion of the Earl, and the sweet earnestness 
 with which she welcomed his sister, tended, 
 however, to reassure him; and when, after 
 having presented Arthur Willoughby, with 
 whom she had been conversing, to Miss Ore-
 
 THE BIRTHDAY-BALL. 57 
 
 ville, in order that he might secure her hand 
 for a quadrille which was then forming, she 
 bowed her acceptance of himself as her own 
 partner in the same dance, he could discover 
 no trace of displeasure, although she Avas 
 evidently somewhat fluttered. 
 
 " The Fates favour you, Ferdinand;" said 
 Lord Ravenswood, as he turned away, with the 
 happy mother still leaning on his arm ; " you 
 have secured the most charming ornament of 
 this truly charming ball." 
 
 We have already intimated that the Earl 
 was one of those rare individuals who found 
 his own happiness in conducing to that of 
 others; and having yielded to the entreaties 
 of his young wards that he would accept the 
 unexpected, and somewhat liazarde invitation 
 of Mrs. Heathcote, he had - resolved to do 
 everything in his power to render himself 
 agreeable to her. 
 
 It is singular, but it is nevertheless true, 
 that there is a sort of isolation in a crowded 
 ball-room particularly favourable to those little 
 Ute-a-tete conferences which are not in- 
 tended for listeners. Every couple are en- 
 grossed by themselves, and care not what is 
 going on about them; vanity and excitement.
 
 58 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 and sometimes jealousy and anxiety, serve to 
 distract the attention even of the most curious 
 from their neighbours ; and whatever they 
 may subsequently strive to remember, and 
 imagine that they have discovered, it is cer- 
 tain that in the entrain of the dance they 
 have eyes and thoughts only for themselves. 
 
 Mr. Greville appeared to be by no means 
 ignorant of this fact, and acted accordingly. 
 The principal drawing-room was infinitely the 
 most crowded, and towards that he led his 
 partner, murmuring, as they with some dif- 
 ficulty made their way through the glittering 
 throng : — 
 
 "Dare I hope, Miss Heathcote, that I am 
 forgiven ? " 
 
 " Are you aware that you need forgive- 
 ness, Mr. Greville?" was the evasive rejoinder. 
 
 "I am only too well aware of it ; if, 
 indeed, it be a crime to lay bare the best and 
 most holy feelings of one's heart." 
 
 " I never supposed that there was any- 
 thing very reprehensible in telling the truth," 
 said Laura, jesuitically. " But, dear me ! we 
 are forgetting that it is our turn to dance, 
 and that " 
 
 " How is it possible not to forget every-
 
 THE BIRTHDAY-BALL. 59 
 
 thing when beside you?" asked Ferdinand 
 tenderly. 
 
 " La Cendrillo?!, Mr. Greville : your vis-d- 
 vis offers vou her hand." 
 
 "You wilfully misunderstand me;" said 
 the young man, when he had regained his 
 place ; " be merciful ; and if you are indeed 
 seriously offended by the liberty I took, when 
 I had no other means of telling you " 
 
 " Be • careful, Mr. Greville ; you will be 
 overheard ! " 
 
 " Ah ! Miss Heathcote ; do not be inex- 
 orable. One word from you will suffice to 
 make me either the most happy or the most 
 miserable of men. The quadrille is nearly 
 over, and I may not perhaps be permitted to 
 dance vvith you again the whole night — vrA\ 
 you then leave me a prey to the most agonising 
 uncertainty ? Laura ! " and he seized her 
 hand as he trembled with emotion — "tell 
 me, what have I to hope or fear?" 
 
 "Really, Mr. Greville;" gasped his com- 
 panion, " you terrify me ! What do you wish 
 me to say?" 
 
 " What you feel — the truth, beautiful 
 and beloved Laura ! I may call you Laura, 
 mav I not?"
 
 60 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 Miss Heathcote blushed and looked down, 
 but the smile of happiness which played about 
 her lips was a sufficient answer. 
 
 " Perhaps/' whispered Greville, as his 
 gaze was riveted upon her, "it would be 
 ungenerous to ask more here, and now. But 
 may I hope that I shall be permitted ere long 
 to converse with you again, and to explain my 
 meaning more fully?" 
 
 " I have no doubt that mamma' will be 
 happy to see you at any time." 
 
 "And her daughter, Miss Heathcote ? 
 Be merciful, and say that I shall be welcome 
 to you also. Still silent ! Do you not pity 
 me?" 
 
 " I would do so willingly if I considered 
 that you required pity." 
 
 " And can you think that I do not ? Can 
 you think that any one by whom you are 
 beloved, and who knows not your own feel- 
 ings towards him, can be otherwise than 
 miserable ? " 
 
 " In that case," said Laura ; " I should be 
 very ungrateful not to pity you. But really, 
 Mr. Greville, this is so sudden — only the 
 second time that we have met — and " 
 
 " Only the second time that we have
 
 THE BIRTHDAY-BALL. 61 
 
 spoken, you should rather say, Miss Heath- 
 cote ; for have we not met in spirit for many, 
 many months? Did you feel as though I 
 were a stranger to you on that happy morning 
 when I first looked upon you in your home ? 
 If so, my hopes are overthrown indeed; for 
 to me you were one long loved, whose bright 
 form had haunted me in my dreams, and 
 upon whose smile hung all my dearest visions. 
 Did you require to be told at that moment 
 that my future destiny was in your hands ? " 
 " How could J[ guess, Mr. Greville ?" 
 " You could not guess ! You must have 
 been well aware that such was the case. And 
 now, only one word, Laura, only one word, 
 and I will urge you no further : May I call 
 upon Mrs. Heathcote to-morrow?" 
 
 The hand of the young lady rested on the 
 arm of her partner, as he was leading her to a 
 seat ; and although the word was not spoken, 
 a sudden gleam of joy lighted up his hand- 
 some face. The little fingers had taken upon 
 themselves to reply to a question with which 
 the tongue did not dare to trust itself, and 
 Greville was satisfied.
 
 62 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 A DELICATE NEGOTIATION. 
 
 Months again passed on, but far different 
 were they both in feehng and effect from 
 those which had preceded the eventful ball of 
 which mention was made in the last chapter. 
 Pleased with the matronly and dignified 
 manner of Mrs. Heathcote, and fascinated by 
 the grace and beauty of her daughter, Lord 
 Ravenswood saw, with considerable gratifica- 
 tion, the growing friendship between the two 
 girls; nor was he, perhaps, without a latent 
 hope that the high principles and handsome 
 person of Ferdinand might win favour in the 
 eyes of the fair heiress. As we have already 
 stated, the Earl was a needy man, trammelled 
 by the debts of an improvident father ; and 
 great as his affection for his wards might be, 
 he could not, as he was painfully aware, make 
 such a provision for them in after life as
 
 A DELICATE NEGOTIATION. 63 
 
 would have satisfied that affection. Almost 
 unconsciously, therefore, he encouraged the 
 intimacy between the two families ; and ere 
 long he was frequently to be found engaged 
 at a whist-table in Mrs. Heathcote's d^a^ving- 
 room, while the younger members of the 
 party were occupied with music or conversa- 
 tion ; and quite as frequently were his agree- 
 able neighbours to be seen in his own circle. 
 
 The result of this intimacy in the case of 
 Ferdinand Greville and Laura Heathcote may 
 be easily foreseen, and more than once had 
 the young man urged upon his blushing and 
 beautiful mistress the expediency of revealing 
 to Lord Eavenswood and her mother the 
 secret of their mutual attachment, and as 
 often had he been deterred by her entreaties 
 from so doing. 
 
 " We are so happy now, dear Ferdinand ;" 
 she said ; " and, as I have told you, mamma 
 is so thoroughly resolved that I shall not 
 marry before I am eighteen, that any pro- 
 posal made to her before that period will only 
 induce her to forbid your coming so con- 
 stantly to the house, and that might perhaps 
 bring on a coolness between Enna and my- 
 self, which would make me quite miserable ;
 
 64 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 SO do be guided by me in tliis matter like a 
 good boy, and you will see wlien the time 
 comes that I have done right." 
 
 Of course Greville had no alternative but 
 to submit, though he did so with an ill grace, 
 for he was not without occasional misgivings 
 that his treasure might even yet be filched 
 from him ; and thus the long, weary, endless 
 year of probation, as he considered it, at 
 length came to a close, and once more the 
 drawing-rooms of Mrs. Heathcote were re- 
 splendent with light, and loud with music, in 
 honour of her daughter's birthday. Proud 
 and triumphant were the look and bearing of 
 the happy mother; more proud and more 
 triumphant, perhaps, than the occasion might 
 appear to justify, for Mrs. Heathcote had laid 
 bare to none the secret hope which caused her 
 eye to sparkle and her cheek to glow ; and if 
 at times a transient shadow passed over her 
 brow, as though there were one drop of bitter- 
 ness in her cup of joy, it was soon dispelled 
 by brighter musings. 
 
 As Miss Greville leant on the arm of 
 Mr. Carlyon, for he was also among the guests, 
 a change had come over her also, and she by 
 no means appeared to hsten unwillingly to
 
 A DELICATE NEGOTIATION. 65 
 
 words which were evidently intended for no 
 ear, save her own. Nor, although her eye 
 perpetually wandered to her brother and the 
 fair Laura, about whom he was constantly 
 hovering, was she the less attentive to the 
 tale so earnestly told. On the contrary, it 
 was because she saw in the attachment of the 
 two beings she best loved on earth a deliver- 
 ance from the heart-trammel by which she 
 had voluntarily bound herself, that she also 
 began to feel how greatly she had miscalcu- 
 lated her own strength. In becoming the 
 husband of the young heiress, Ferdinand would 
 no longer require the pecuniary sacrifice at 
 her hands which she had been prepared to 
 make ; while she was at the same time 
 thoroughly convinced that no thought of 
 money had ever sullied the purity of his affec- 
 tion. Thus, then, she was free to think of 
 her own happiness, and to believe that it in 
 no small degree depended on the fascinating 
 and accomplished Augustus Carlyon. 
 
 Of Ferdinand and Laura it is needless to 
 say more than that they loved each other with 
 all the ardour of two young fresh hearts, and 
 hoped, as at that age we have all hoped in 
 our turn, fully and fearlessly, and without one 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 misgiving with regard to that future which 
 appeared to be now almost within their grasp. 
 
 Nor were they alone full of glad anticipa- 
 tions on that eventful evening, for more than 
 one of Miss Heathcote's suitors remembered 
 that the excuse formerly made to the recep- 
 tion of their addresses had been based simply 
 upon the extreme youth of the gentle heiress, 
 and that the period before which they were 
 forbidden to renew^ their demand for her hand 
 had at length arrived. Great, therefore, w^as 
 the emulation which had been thus excited ; 
 and as Laura smiled on all alike, so did each 
 in turn believe himself to be the highly favoured 
 individual destined to become the happy 
 possessor both of her love and her scarcely 
 less coveted thousands. And so the dance 
 went on, and the hum of voices, the rustle of 
 silken draperies, and the fall of rapid foot- 
 steps, blended harmoniously with the tones of 
 the orchestra, when Mrs. Heathcote, having 
 seen Lord Ravenswood comfortably seated at 
 the whist-table, softly approached Mr. Greviile, 
 and in a low whisper requested him to follow^ 
 her. 
 
 " I wish to speak to you in private ;" she 
 said with a smile ; " and the opportunity
 
 A DELICATE NEGOTIATION. 67 
 
 appears to me so favourable that I am un- 
 willing to lose it. You will, therefore, I feel 
 quite sure, forgive me for tearing you a^yay - 
 from the pleasures of the ball-room for a few 
 minutes/' 
 
 "A ball-room is not such a novelty to 
 me, my dear madam ; " replied Ferdinand, as 
 his heart began to beat quick and fast; "that 
 I should put even yours in competition with 
 so great a favour as you are about to confer 
 on me ; for what can be a higher honour than 
 to be admitted to a lady's confidence?" 
 
 " A truce mth compliments ! '*' was the 
 hasty rejoinder; "the subject which I am 
 about to discuss with you is a serious one." 
 
 "If you indeed think me worthy " 
 
 stammered Ferdinand, somewhat staggered by 
 her manner. 
 
 "Come with me, then, to my boudoir;" 
 was the reply, as the lady disappeared over 
 the threshold of a small apartment which had 
 been transformed for the evening into a very 
 skilful fac simile of the hall of the Alhambra 
 Court in the Crystal Palace, and which gleamed 
 and glittered with all the gilding and gor- 
 geousness of Owen Jones' creation. 
 
 As Ferdinand silently follovv'ed her, and at
 
 68 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 a gesture of her hand closed the door behind 
 him, his agitation increased. It was quite 
 evident that Mrs. Heathcote had spoken truly 
 when she said that their conference would be 
 no idle one. Endeavour as she might to control 
 herself, he at once saw that she was scarcely 
 less excited than himself. What had he to 
 hope? or what to fear? As they seated 
 themselves upon a divan she drew off her 
 gloves, and then for an instant appeared deeply 
 interested in examining the delicate embroidery 
 of her handkerchief, like a person who felt 
 some embarrassment in commencing the con- 
 versation ; while Greville watched her with 
 an anxiety which increased until it became 
 positive pain. 
 
 "As I said, I greatly wish to speak to 
 you, my dear young friend;" she began at 
 length ; " on a subject which, however, you will 
 only partially be able to comprehend, for it is 
 on the deep, exclusive, and almost absorbing 
 affection of a mother towards her loved and 
 only child." 
 
 " Are you about to speak of Miss Heath- 
 cote?" interposed her listener, almost breath- 
 lessly. " Nay, then, believe me when I assure 
 you that I can indeed understand how bound-
 
 A DELICATE NEGOTIATIOX. 69 
 
 less, how devoted it must he in your case, with 
 such a child to love." 
 
 " True ; " smiled his companion ; " and 
 thus you will be at no loss to conceive that 
 the happiness of Laura is the great ambition 
 of my life, before which the poor convention- 
 alities of society fade into utter insignificance." 
 
 "And can I — may I hope that I — have 
 it in my power to contribute to the happiness 
 of Miss Heathcote? Is it possible that you 
 consider me worthy to co-operate with you in 
 so glorious a work as that of " 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Greville ; yes. Young as you 
 are, you are one of the very few in whose good 
 faith and sincere res-ard for both Laura and 
 myself I feel that I can place the most implicit 
 confidence ; nor am I trusting merely to my 
 own judgment in acting as I have decided 
 upon doing to-night, for the terms in which 
 you have been spoken of by Lord Ravenswood 
 on every occasion when you have accidentally 
 become the subject of discourse between us, 
 have confirmed and streno-thened the hisrh 
 
 o o 
 
 opinion which I had myself previously formed 
 of your frankness and stabihty of character." 
 
 " My dear madam " 
 
 " Hear me out, Mr. Greville. As I have
 
 70 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 already said, my own happiness depends on 
 that of Laura ; but even my love, great as it 
 is, might prove incompetent of itself to secure 
 this one end of my existence, and I have 
 arrived at the conclusion that you alone can 
 assist me in rendering it sure." 
 
 " I, madam ? How shall I ever sufficiently 
 thank you for so flattering, so unhoped-for an 
 avow^al ? " 
 
 " By complying with the dearest wish of 
 my heart. My daughter has now reached an 
 age when, bitter as it will be to me to feel 
 that I am no longer the exclusive object of 
 her affection, I must resign myself to see it 
 shared by another." 
 
 Ferdinand attempted to look his sympathy 
 in this maternal trial, but signally failed. 
 
 " I believe her to be perfectly heart-free ;" 
 pursued Mrs. Heathcote. " I may, indeed, 
 go so far as to say, that I am convinced of it ; 
 and that the husband whom I shall select for 
 her will be accepted without hesitation by 
 Laura. This husband I have already selected; 
 he is a man of high birth and ancient family, 
 whose position in society is sufficiently eligible 
 to lift her above a host of petty annoyances, 
 upon which it would be idle to expatiate, but
 
 A DELICATE NEGOTIATION. 71 
 
 from which I have long determined to emanci- 
 pate myself. You are well aware, as every one 
 must necessarily be who has been intimately- 
 acquainted with my family for months, that I 
 have been subjected by my own sister to 
 mortifications and slights innumerable be- 
 cause, unlike herself, I married from pure 
 affection, and became the wife of a man who 
 was the architect of his own fortunes. For 
 fifteen years, Mr. Greville, I have endured 
 these insults in silence, but the time is come 
 at last for me to assert myself, and to repay 
 scorn by scorn." 
 
 " But what connexion, may I ask,'' inter- 
 posed Ferdinand ; " can there possibly be be- 
 tween the coarse attacks of Lady Willoughby 
 and the marriage of Miss Heathcote ? " 
 
 "Have I not already explained to you, 
 Mr. Greville, that it is by her marriage that 
 I shall be enabled to defy the malice of my 
 sister ; and that it is you, and you only, who 
 can enable me to do so ?" 
 
 " Can it indeed be possible that my senses 
 do not deceive me, and that " 
 
 " Our interview will never come to a close 
 if you do not hear me patiently to the end ; " 
 said Mrs. Heathcote, laying her hand lightly.
 
 72 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 but impressively, on his arm. " If the briUiant 
 vision in which I have indulged for my dear 
 child can ever be realised, I feel satisfied that 
 it must be through your agency." 
 
 " My agency, madam? Eor pity's sake 
 explain yourself!" exclaimed Ferdinand, with 
 blanched cheeks and quivering lips. 
 
 " I will do so frankly. The husband I 
 desire for my daughter is one with whom you 
 have great and deserved influence. I allude, 
 of course, to Lord Ravenswood." 
 
 "Lord Eavenswood!" echoed her asto- 
 nished auditor. 
 
 " Even so. The Earl does not possess 
 such an income as his rank demands, while my 
 daughter is worthy of a prouder name than 
 that bequeathed to her by her father; and 
 thus you must at once acknowlege, Mr. Gre- 
 ville, that in such an aUiance as the one w^hich 
 I propose the benefit would be mutual. Lord 
 Ravenswood can give Laura a coronet ; while 
 she can in return release him from all the 
 difficulties by which he is at present tram- 
 melled." 
 
 " I must surely dream, madam ! " faltered 
 Eerdinand ; " You would not bestow the 
 hand of your daughter, who has only this
 
 A DELICATE NEGOTIATION. 73 
 
 very day completed her eighteenth year, upon 
 a man who is upwards of fifty years of age ! 
 Oh, no, no ! you love your child, and could 
 not, would not, thus sacrifice her to your owm 
 ambition ! '' 
 
 " Mr. Greville, you forget yourself;'' said 
 his companion, with a harshness of look and 
 tone which she had never before exhibited in 
 his presence ; " and permit me to add, that 
 gratitude to a person to whom you are so 
 deeply indebted as to Lord Ravenswood, 
 should have induced you to speak of him with 
 less disrespect, and to welcome with joy any 
 prospect so favourable to his fortunes as that 
 which you receive so coldly." 
 
 " Coldly, madam ! " once more echoed the 
 heart-stricken young man ; " Do not deceive 
 yourself. It is with no coldness that I listen 
 to so extraordinary a proposition ; but rather 
 with an astonishment so great, that I have no 
 words to express it. Am I really to under- 
 stand that you would so sacrifice your daugh- 
 ter — your only one?" 
 
 " Sacrifice her ! " in her turn repeated 
 Mrs. Heathcote indignantly. " So harsh a 
 term is scarcely flattering to one who has 
 strong claims alike upon your gratitude and 
 your respect."
 
 74 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " I am quite aware of all that I owe to Lord 
 Ravenswood," was the haughty reply ; for the 
 proud sph'it of Greville revolted agamst the 
 insolent tone adoped by his companion. " I 
 am conscious of the deference which is due 
 to him, and of the affection which he has a 
 right to claim from one to whom he has been 
 even more than a father ; but, madam, though 
 I would gladly pour out my heart's blood to 
 secure his happiness, I cannot, I do not, feel 
 myself called upon to urge him to a measure 
 which would involve him in ridicule, and lay 
 him open to the accusation of having turned 
 fortune-hunter in his old age. Nor would 
 you escape censure ; even you, Mrs. Heath- 
 cote, who are so morbidly anxious to release 
 yourself at so fatal a price from the sting of 
 rancorous tongues. No one can be more 
 perfectly conscious than myself of the esti- 
 mable quahties of Lord Ravenswood, or how 
 worthy he is of the universal esteem in which 
 he is held; no one has probed his nature 
 more deeply than I have done — I, his adopted 
 son; and, consequently, no one is so well 
 able to appreciate the nobleness of his cha- 
 racter. Do not, therefore, mistake me. It 
 is out of my deep affection for him that I de- 
 precate the very idea of such a marriage;
 
 A DELICATE NEGOTIATION. 75 
 
 and you must forgive me if I tell you, with- 
 out reserve, that all the influence which I pos- 
 sess over him I shall exert to prevent his ter- 
 minating a hfe of honour and usefulness by 
 an act of folly. You are aware, and must do 
 me the justice to remember, that I did not 
 solicit the confidence which you have placed 
 in me; that it was in obedience to your 
 wishes only that I have become cognisant of 
 your intentions ; and now I have only to re- 
 peat that I decidedly dechue all interference 
 in an affair which my reason and my prin- 
 ciples alike condemn ; together with my as- 
 surance that, from this moment, I shall en- 
 deavour to forget that this conversation has 
 ever taken place." 
 
 " Such is your resolution, sir?" 
 
 " My final resolution." 
 
 " You will not — in fact, you absolutely 
 refuse to co-operate with me in bringing about 
 this marriage?" 
 
 " Distinctly and decidedly." 
 
 " So be it then;" said Mrs. Heathcote 
 coldly ; " I have no intention to m-ge you 
 further on the subject; but I must still, if 
 you will allow me to do so, detain you a short 
 time longer. I had two motives for request- 
 ing this interview : you are aware of one of
 
 76 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 these ; and we will now, with your permis- 
 sion, examine into the other." 
 
 " I am at your disposal, madam, and I 
 sincerely trust that I may have it in my power 
 to convince you, ere we part, that a sense of 
 honour alone induced me to disappoint your 
 confidence in my willingness to meet your 
 wishes." 
 
 " Do not be alarmed, Mr. Greville ; " was 
 the reply; " T am not about to make a 
 second demand upon your presumed regard 
 for my family. What I have now to say and 
 do requires no co-operation on your part. 
 I have merely a communication to make to 
 you ; and, having so done, I will detain you 
 no longer." 
 
 As she spoke, Mrs. Heathcote rose, and un- 
 locked an inlaid cabinet, from which she with- 
 drew a small packet ; and then, with a height- 
 ened colour, and a firm grasp upon the papers, 
 she reseated herself beside her bewildered 
 companion.
 
 A SECRET. 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 A SECRET. 
 
 " You will perhaps think, Mr. Greville — aud 
 you will be right ; '' said the hostess, after a 
 most uncomfortable pause — "that I have 
 chosen an extraordinary moment in which 
 to reveal to you a secret even more important 
 to yourself than to me; but circumstances, 
 which I certainly did not anticipate, have de- 
 termined me to do so without further delay. 
 I am sorry — sincerely sorry — to find that the 
 friendship which I was anxious to extend to 
 you has not been reciprocated, and that I 
 have an unpleasant duty forced upon me from 
 which I might otherwise have escaped alto- 
 gether." 
 
 " My dear madam, what can you possibly 
 mean?'' exclaimed the young man, with un- 
 disguised alarm ; " You are surely not about 
 to forbid me your house because "
 
 78 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " One moment, Mr. Greville. At the 
 close of our present interview it will depe:'c i 
 entirely on yourself whether my doors will 
 be opened to you even more freely than they 
 have yet been, or closed against you for ever. 
 May I ask you one question, and request of 
 you to reply to it ? Do me the justice to 
 believe that it is prompted by no idle curiosity, 
 but simply to prevent all error on my part." 
 
 " I am at your orders, madam." 
 
 " Am I wrong in believing, Mr. Greville, 
 that you are the son of the Hon. Captain 
 Greville, who on his voyage to America was 
 lost at sea?" 
 
 " I am his only son." 
 
 " Your father, sir, in that case, had nu- 
 merous business transactions with my late 
 husband. Were you aware of this fact?" 
 
 " I was not." 
 
 " I really regret to wound your feelings ;" 
 pursued Mrs. Heathcote, '' but you have left 
 me no alternative ; and I am consequently 
 compelled to inform you, Mr. Greville, that 
 they were not all equally honourable to his 
 memory." 
 
 "Madam!" 
 
 " We will not waste words ; " continued
 
 A SECRET. 79 
 
 the lady, in a subdued voice, full of cold de- 
 termination ; " here are two bills " and 
 
 as she spoke she withdrew them from their 
 envelope ; " I found them among my hus- 
 band's papers." 
 
 "Well, madam." 
 
 " They are — forgeries /" 
 
 Greville bounded from the sofa. "And 
 in what can they concern me or mine?" he 
 asked impetuously. 
 
 " Look at the body of those bills, — are 
 they, or are they not, in the handwriting of 
 your father ? Examine the signatures — the 
 individual by whom they are assumed to have 
 been signed denies all previous knowledge of 
 their existence, and has affirmed on oath that 
 he never put his hand to them." 
 
 Ferdinand sank back almost convulsed 
 upon the sofa, and buried his face in his 
 hands. His brain burned, his veins ran fire. 
 What was he ? Where was he ? Should this 
 accusation be a true one, he was the son of a 
 felon ; and he loved the daughter of the woman 
 who held in her hands the damning evidence 
 of his father's guilt and of his own dishonour ! 
 
 " Oh, madam ; " he at length faltered 
 out ; " have pity upon me, and tell me that
 
 80 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 you are only playing upon my credulity in 
 order to punish me for opposing your wishes ! 
 I cannot — dare not, believe that you are 
 serious, or that this is other than a fatal 
 mistake. My poor father was thoughtless, 
 imprudent — improvident, if you will — but he 
 never was guilty." 
 
 "Never, perhaps, save in this instance; 
 but these proofs, Mr. Greville, will admit of no 
 argument." 
 
 Again there was silence in that gorgeous 
 and glittering apartment, save that faintly 
 through the closed door came the sound of 
 mirthful music and the muffled reverberation 
 of many bounding feet, making the silence 
 still more deep and painful. All was life and 
 joy beyond, but all was death and despair 
 within ! 
 
 " If this indeed be so," gasped out the 
 soul-stricken young man, as soon as he could 
 control his voice ; " my path is plain, and I 
 have only to throw myself upon your mercy. 
 My first duty is to redeem my father's 
 memory. No one is better aware than you 
 are of the position of Enna and myself. Take 
 all we have, only let those papers be de- 
 stroyed. I am young and strong, and it may
 
 A SECRET. 81 
 
 be that power will be granted to me to suffice 
 to our support. Not later than to-morrow I 
 will realize our joint property, if you will allow 
 me to liquidate this debt." 
 
 " It amounts to four thousand pounds, 
 sir." 
 
 " It shall be paid, even though it should 
 leave us beggars, if you will suffer me to wipe 
 away this stain from the name of my unhappy 
 parent. And oh, madam ! oh, Mrs. Heath- 
 cote ! if a life of gratitude, of devotion — if 
 the sacrifice of all my worldly prospects and 
 all my worldly hopes to your interests will 
 repay you for your mercy, I here swear to 
 you that I will not fail." 
 
 " I ask no sacrifice; " was the cold reply 
 to this impassioned appeal. "I care not for 
 the amount of these — these forgeries ; I have 
 no wish to extort money ; I am no usurer, no 
 Shylock to ask a pound of flesh for the for- 
 feiture of my bond. Your ruin would afford 
 me no pleasure, no satisfaction; and I tell 
 you plainly, and at once, that no price, be it 
 what it may, shall purchase these papers." 
 
 A deep groan burst from the overcharged 
 heart of her listener. 
 
 " And yet they may be yours, Mr. Gre- 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 A LIEE-STRTTGGLE. 
 
 ville;" she pursued in a more genial tone: 
 " you have but to say one word, and I will 
 destroy them before your eyes." 
 
 "And that word ?" 
 
 " Use your influence with Lord Ravens- 
 wood, as I have already requested you to do. 
 It is possible that you may fail ; but even in 
 that case, if you can only convince me that 
 you have done all in your power to assist my 
 views, I will in your presence destroy '^ 
 
 " Oh, say no more 1 say no more ! '' ex- 
 claimed the wretched Ferdinand ; " I am but 
 too bitterly conscious that not only my own 
 destiny, but that of my poor Enna also, is now 
 dependent upon your generosity — upon your 
 mercy. We could not live to be branded with 
 dishonour, to be a mark for the finger of 
 scorn ; and did you ask my life, I would kneel 
 to you and bless you : but, fallen as I am, I 
 am crushed only by the shadow of another's 
 guilt : in myself I am as yet sinless. Oh, do 
 not urge me to an act against which my na- 
 ture revolts, and which would make me blush 
 at my own unworthiness." 
 
 " As you please, Mr. Greville. I have 
 named my conditions, and it now therefore 
 only remains with yourself to accept or to
 
 A SECRET. 88 
 
 reject them. We will, whenever it is agree- 
 able to you, return to the ball-room ; and you 
 can, before leaving the house, favour me with 
 your final decision." 
 
 " The ball-room ! " murmured her com- 
 panion, as a sharp spasm passed over his 
 frame ; " Aye, true ; the happy and the 
 honoured dance and feast — I had forgotten 
 — L who am no. lono;er either honoured or 
 happy." 
 
 " It only depends upon yourself to be 
 both." 
 
 " But how, madam ? How ? What do 
 von imao;ine that Lord Ravenswood would 
 think of me, were I to advise him to solicit the 
 hand' of your daughter ? Could he do other- 
 wise than imagine that I had some interested 
 motive in urras: him to contract a marriasje 
 so utterly disproportionate, and so ill suited 
 to maintain the hidi character for sense and 
 judgment which he has always borne? Oh, 
 do not ask me to become hateful to myself by 
 sacrificing the honour of my benefactor, the one 
 friend of my life, to my own interests. I vrill 
 do anything, everything but this. The money 
 shall be paid. But I had forgotten;" he pur- 
 sued, in a tone of anguish : " years have 
 elapsed since those fatal bills were negotiated
 
 S4 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 — the interest upon them has accumulated, 
 and I may not possess the necessary funds to 
 redeem them — lost, miserable wretch that 
 I am!" 
 
 " Be calm, Mr. Greville ; I have already 
 told you that there was no question of money 
 between us/' 
 
 " But those papers must be destroyed/' 
 
 " Whenever you please/' 
 
 " Enna must never know her father's 
 guilt/' 
 
 " That will depend upon yourself/' 
 
 " Are there, indeed, no other terms upon 
 which ?" 
 
 " None/' 
 
 Ferdinand rose, and strode up and down 
 the floor, his eyes glassy and his lips quiver- 
 ing. Laura was lost to him ; for never, after 
 what had just passed between her mother 
 and himself, could he hope that Mrs. Heath- 
 cote would, under any circumstances, consent 
 to receive him as a son. And then he thought 
 of Enna ; her prospects also would be blighted, 
 should the disgraceful secret become known : 
 for Carlyon, fondly as he was attached to her, 
 would never brook an alhance with the daugh- 
 ter of a forger. And that forger, was he not 
 his father? And was it not his most sacred
 
 A SECRET. 85 
 
 duty to wipe away the plague-spot of crime 
 by which his grave was desecrated? What 
 was life to him now ? A little more suffer- 
 ing, or a little less, what did it avail ? Lord 
 Ravenswood might suspect him of some un- 
 worthy and self-interested motive should he 
 suojo-est to him an act of follv, which must 
 bring ridicule upon his grey hairs ; for how 
 could he suspect that every argument ad- 
 vanced by his adopted son had wrung a blood- 
 drop from his heart? Well, he must bear 
 it all. And had the felon's son a right to 
 complain? No, no; the sin of the father 
 was visited upon the child, and he must 
 abide the punishment. 
 
 He paused beside Mrs. Heathcote, and 
 twice he essayed to speak before he could 
 articulate a sound; but the words came at 
 last, cold, slow, and measured, like the plash- 
 ing of water upon a rock. 
 
 "You have conquered, madam ;" he said; 
 " and may you never repent what has passed 
 this night. I pledge you my honour — if 
 indeed you will still admit such a pledge from 
 me — that I will exert all my influence over 
 Lord Ravenswood to induce him to become 
 the husband of your daughter."
 
 86 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " To prove to you that I have firm faith 
 in your promise, Mr. Greville;'' was the re- 
 joinder of his hostess ; " and to prevent any 
 after-scruple from tempting you to recant it, 
 these papers shall be at once destroyed. 
 
 And, rising as she spoke, she approached 
 an argand lamp which stood upon the table, 
 held the packet over the flame, and then 
 threw it, blazing as it was, to the ground. 
 
 " From this moment,'' she said with a 
 smile which wrun^ the achins; heart of her 
 almost breathless companion ; " I shall cease 
 to remember that I ever knew or heard of 
 any member of the Greville family, save the 
 adopted children of Lord Ravenswood." 
 
 Ferdinand crushed the papers under his 
 foot, with set teeth and hands so forcibly 
 clenched together, that his fingers became 
 bloodless beneath the violence of the pressure. 
 His word was pledged — his honour — his self- 
 respect — and his hopes in the future were the 
 price that he had paid for the few blackened 
 remains of his father's crime. He did not 
 utter a syllable, but the whole agony of a 
 lifetime seemed compressed into that moment. 
 At length a deep sigh of relief dispelled the 
 sufFocatino; sensation in his throat, and he
 
 A SECRET. 87 
 
 looked up. As he did so, his eyes met 
 those of Mrs. Heathcote; and then fell, for 
 he could not brook their exulting expression ; 
 she had bought him at a price, and he was 
 henceforward the slave of her will. It was a 
 fearful conviction, and he shrunk from it with 
 more loathing than he would have shrunk 
 from fetters of iron ; for he was bound in soul, 
 and thus the freedom of his limbs was a mere 
 mockery. 
 
 " Come, come, Mr. Greville ; " whispered 
 his hostess ; " you take this matter too much 
 to heart. You should remember that the 
 guilt was not yours ; but that, on the con- 
 trary, you have had it in your power to con- 
 ceal its consequences for ever. Believe me 
 that I feel deeply for you ; but when you are 
 some years older you will be better able to 
 understand that the world is full of trial, and 
 that it frequently happens that we suffer more 
 from the faults and errors of others than from 
 our own." 
 
 " I am just now in no position to refute 
 the assertion, madam;" said Greville bitterly. 
 "It is a lesson which has been early learned 
 by my father's son, and one which I am never 
 likely to forget."
 
 88 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " You must, however, endeavour to do 
 so ; and you should remember that the pe- 
 nalty which you have paid for his imprudence 
 is, after all, a very light one : for surely, my 
 dear Mr. Greville, it is not such a formidable 
 hardship to serve the interests of one who 
 holds you in very high regard ? Do not fancy 
 for a moment that you have lost ground in 
 my esteem — far from it; I shall always con- 
 sider myself the obliged person in this affair : 
 for I cannot, and will not, doubt that I have, 
 in you, secured a fast and faithful ally. But 
 do not let us dwell any longer upon so un- 
 pleasant a subject. We will bury the past in 
 oblivion, and look only to the future. Come, 
 we will now return to our friends, or our 
 absence may cause surprise. Be kind enough 
 to giv^ me your arm, and be assured that we 
 are fast friends for ever." 
 
 The poor young man mechanically obeyed. 
 He even strove to smile, but it was such a 
 smile as would have gladdened Mephistophiles 
 upon the lips of Paust ; and amid the sound 
 of music, the flashing of jewels, and the glare 
 of lamps, he conducted Mrs. Heathcote to the 
 side of her daughter.
 
 THE riRST STORM-CLOrD. 89 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 THE FIRST STORM-CLOrD. 
 
 Laura was not dancing; indeed, from the 
 moment in which she had seen Mr. Greville 
 disappear with her mother, she had felt it 
 impossible to do so : her heart, overflowing 
 with happiness, could suggest only one reason 
 for a private interview so strangely timed. It 
 was her eio;hteenth birthday : her fond mother 
 had read her secret, and some delicious indis- 
 cretion on the part of Ferdinand having con- 
 vinced her that their affection was mutual, 
 she was about to spare them all further sus- 
 pense, by assuring him of her consent to their 
 union. Hoav, at such an agitating moment, 
 could she think of anything, find amusement 
 in anything, save in following up in fancy the 
 eventful conversation in the boudoir? Poor 
 Laura ! The empty compliments and weari- 
 some attentions by which she was overwhelmed
 
 90 A LIEE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 on all sides, almost drove her mad! Could 
 she only have escaped to her own room, have 
 hidden herself she cared not where, so that 
 she might be alone with her deep, deep joy, 
 what a relief it would have been to her ! But 
 she dared not stir, for at each instant Fer- 
 dinand might return ; and so she compelled 
 herself to endure the idle and irksome assi- 
 duities of her hundred-and-one admirers, in 
 order that she might not cheat herself through 
 her ov/n weakness of a few more instants of 
 happiness. She pictured to her eager fancy 
 how he would look when he reappeared — she 
 could see the proud flashing of his eye, the 
 glow of triumph upon his brow : there would 
 be no need of words ; one glance, one pressure 
 of the hand, and the tale would be told. 
 And now Laura, in her turn, watched the 
 movements of Enna ; how graceful and beau- 
 tiful she looked in her quiet and new-born 
 joy ! Oh, there again words would have 
 been idle to inform the fair heiress that her 
 friend was as thoroughly heart-thralled as 
 herself. This conviction was dehghtful to 
 her ; they should all be so very, very happy ! 
 And that dear old Lord Ravenswood, with his 
 soft voice and his benignant smile, she could
 
 THE FIRST STORM-CLOUD. 91 
 
 already hear him uttering a bridal blessing, 
 in which she was included. 
 
 Condemned criminals have declared more 
 than once, that during the night which pre- 
 ceded their execution they dreamt of the best 
 and brightest of their past days, and had 
 visions of an existence of happiness still to 
 come ; but so blessed a sleep could not en- 
 dure long, and then came the waking and the 
 death-toll, and the yelling multitude and the 
 gaunt gallows ! 
 
 Laura stole one look at Ferdinand as he 
 approached her with Mrs. Heathcote leaning 
 on his arm, and her pulses appeared to stand 
 still, as though checked by an ice-bolt ; there 
 was indeed a smile upon the lips of her 
 mother, but despair was wTitten in legible 
 characters upon the forehead of him she loved. 
 He did not even glance towards her; but 
 after having, with a profound bow, relinquished 
 his charge, he traversed the room with a liasty 
 and unsteady step ; and before she had re- 
 covered herself sufficiently to reply to the 
 accumulated and somewhat incoherent ques- 
 tionings addressed to her by Mrs. Heathcote, 
 w^ho had become alarmed on remarking the 
 excess of her agitation and her extreme pallor.
 
 92 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 she saw him leave the room accompanied by 
 his sister, followed shortly afterwards by Lord 
 Kavenswood. What could it mean? Why 
 should Ferdinand, instead of hurrying to her 
 side, have avoided her so rudely ? What had 
 passed — what could have passed — between 
 him and her mother ? Why had he left the 
 house so abruptly, when he must be quite 
 aware that, situated as they were, he should 
 have been the last to linger — the last to go? 
 Poor child! The first dark page of Life's 
 volume had just been spread before her, and 
 she was now about to read thereon that those 
 who have learnt to love have also learnt to 
 suffer. The whole scene swam before her; 
 she was stunned by the music, blinded by the 
 lights, bewildered by the floating draperies 
 which whirled past and around her. What a 
 mockery was everything, which only one short 
 hour before had been so bright ! 
 
 " You are ill, my darling — I am sure that 
 you are ill" — were the first intelligible words 
 which reached her ear. 
 
 "I think you are right, mamma;" she 
 murmured in reply : " my head aches, and I 
 feel giddy and faint. May I not go to my 
 room? I shall not be missed in this crowd."
 
 THE FIRST STORM-CLOUD. 93 
 
 " Of course you may, if you desire it, 
 love;" said Mrs. Heathcote anxiously. "I 
 cannot suffer you to risk your health un- 
 necessarily, and the rooms are already thinning. 
 Supper will shortly be announced, and I will 
 send you some ice, which will, I know, refresh 
 you. I see that Lord Ravenswood and the 
 Grevilles are already gone." 
 
 The calm tone of her mother would have 
 dispelled all the apprehensions of Laura, could 
 she have forgotten the strange manner of 
 Ferdinand and the sudden departure of the 
 Earl's party : but this was impossible ; and 
 with the natural sensitiveness of her age and 
 sex she bes-an to ask herself whether she had 
 
 o 
 
 not too readily permitted Ferdinand to read 
 her heart, and to undervalue a love which had 
 been bestowed upon him almost unasked. 
 
 Thankful, most thankful w^as she, when 
 she found her head once more upon her 
 pillow, her maid dismissed for the night, and 
 herself at hberty to muse, and marvel, and 
 weep without interruption. 
 
 A sad lesson is that which teaches us that 
 there may be a luxury in tears ! 
 
 For the first time in her life Laura never 
 closed her eyes all night ; and the day was
 
 94 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 beginning to dawn when tlie last carriage 
 drove from her mother's door. The birthday- 
 ball was over; that ball to which she had 
 looked forward with such eager hope — such 
 happy confidence ; and what had it brought 
 to her ? She had gathered one of the tempt- 
 ing apples of the Dead Lake, and her hand 
 held the ashes into which it had crumbled 1 
 
 At an early hour on the morrow Mrs. 
 Heathcote was by the bedside of her daughter, 
 and the fever-flush rose to the cheek of Laura, 
 and her heart beat quick, as she returned the 
 maternal kiss, and awaited the confidence for 
 which she had pined throughout so many 
 weary hours ; but although Mrs. Heathcote 
 had never been more anxious or more tender, 
 not a word escaped her which could aff'ord to 
 the poor girl even the slightest insight into 
 the mysterious interview in the boudoir ; and 
 the suspense became, after some time, so in- 
 tolerable, that she determined to provoke an 
 explanation, if it were possible to do so without 
 directly questioning her mother in a manner 
 which might excite her displeasure. 
 
 " I lost sight of you for a long time last 
 night, mamma ; " she said, pressing her lips to 
 the hand in which her own was clasped ; " and
 
 THE rillST STOUM-CLOUD. 95 
 
 I was sorry that I could not find you, for 
 Lady Willougliby took possession of Lord 
 Ravenswood the moment that the whist party 
 broke up, and never left him afterwards till 
 he went away, so that I am very much afraid 
 she must have annoyed him ; for I am quite 
 sure that he dishkes her, though he is too 
 well bred to show ' any rudeness to your 
 sister." 
 
 " How very provoking ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Heathcote ; " She is for ever vexing me in 
 one way or the other. What could she have 
 to say to Lord Ravenswood? unless, indeed, it 
 were to favour him with some sarcastic re- 
 marks upon us. Did they converse long 
 together?" 
 
 " Certainly : more than a quarter of an 
 hour." 
 
 " Why did you not join them and prevent 
 this, Laura?" 
 
 *' My dear mamma, how could I be guilty 
 of such an impertinence? Besides, I was 
 watching for you." 
 
 " And I was very particularly and seriously 
 occupied, my darling ; occupied, as I ever am, 
 in securing your happiness."
 
 96 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " Was not Mr. Greville with you, mamma? 
 I saw you leave the room together." 
 
 " He was, Laura ; and a very charming 
 young man he is. I am quite dehghted both 
 with him and his sister." 
 
 " Oh, Enna is perfection ! I cannot tell 
 you how I love her." 
 
 " I am glad of it ; and I hope that you 
 will continue to like Miss Greville as well as I 
 like her brother ! " 
 
 Laura looked up in astonishment as she 
 asked : — 
 
 " What can you mean, mamma ?" 
 
 " You are surprised, love, that I should 
 speak so warmly of this young man ; and I do 
 not wonder at it, as I am not in the habit of 
 taking a violent fancy to any one : but I have 
 no doubt that ere long you will have as great 
 a regard for him as myself." 
 
 Laura fell back petrified upon her pillow. 
 
 '•'There can be no mistake!" she mur- 
 mured to herself ; " My mother loves him ! 
 She is still young, still handsome ; she is 
 rich, and free to marry whom she pleases. 
 I might have foreseen this. She looks rather 
 like my elder sister than my parent ; and then,
 
 THE FIRST STORM-CLOUD. 97 
 
 she is so winning, so attractive. Miserable, 
 wretched being that I am ! Misled by my 
 own vanity, and unsuspicious of the truth 
 that I have only served as a blind dupe, I 
 have given away my heart to one who cares 
 not for me, and who loves my mother ! And 
 shall I dare to blame her ? Shall I dare to 
 visit my own weakness upon her? How 
 could I hope that it would be otherwise ?" 
 
 Never had so sharp a pang struck to the 
 soul of the poor girl. Like all who have cast 
 their hoard of happiness upon one die, she 
 believed, in her agony of spirit, that every 
 one about her must have played for the same 
 stake. She forgot the years of devotion during 
 which the mother whom she now looked upon 
 as a rival had immolated, to the sole affection 
 of which she was herself the object, every 
 other passion of her nature ; how she had 
 resisted every attempt which had been made 
 to induce her to contract a second marriage ; 
 and she only felt that there was but one 
 Ferdinand Greville in the world, and that he 
 was resistless. 
 
 "I do not think that I ever met so de- 
 lightful a person in my life as Lord Ravens- 
 wood;" said Mrs. Heathcote, after a short 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 silence, which she little guessed had been so 
 full of misery to her child. " Do you not 
 agree with me, Laura ? He is so dignified, 
 and yet so afiable. He is certainly a most 
 charming acquaintance ; or I trust that I may 
 now rather say, a most charming friend." 
 
 " I do perfedlij agree with you, mamma ; " 
 was the languid reply. " He is one of the 
 very nicest old gentlemen in the world, I 
 sincerely believe." 
 
 ''Old gentleman, my love!" was the 
 somewhat discomfited rejoinder ; " you have 
 strange ideas of age, my dear child ! He is 
 not, certainly, what can strictly be called a 
 young man, but he is still in the very prime 
 of life 1" 
 
 " Does it not strike you, mamma, that he 
 is a little like my poor papa ? or, rather, that 
 he must have been like him some years ago? 
 for I remember that papa was still young when 
 we lost him. I was but a child then, it is 
 true, but his kind face is still before me when- 
 ever I think of him." 
 
 " You have strange fancies, Laura, and I 
 confess that I trace no resemblance whatever 
 between them ; and as to judging of the age 
 of Lord Ravenswood, I should never attempt
 
 THE FIRST STORM-CLOUD. 99 
 
 anything of the kind : all that I know of him 
 is that he is extremely handsome, and that 
 any woman might be justly proud of such a 
 husband, even were he not a man of high 
 rank/' 
 
 " You are right, dear mamma — quite 
 right ! " exclaimed Miss Heathcote, with sud- 
 den energy, as the emphatic manner of her 
 mother engendered a new hope ; '' he is, as 
 you say, a most delightful person, and it is 
 a sad pity that he is not as wealthy as he is 
 good." 
 
 " You do him no more than justice, my 
 own darling ;" was the smiling reply ; " and I 
 am perfectly of your opinion ; nor can you 
 guess the happiness which such an avowal 
 from you has been to me. But you must try 
 to get a little rest, for your poor cheeks are 
 paler than I like to see them ; so good-by for 
 an hour or two. Take care of yourself, and 
 come down to luncheon looking less like an 
 invalid than you do now." 
 
 So saying, Mrs. Heathcote fondly pressed 
 her lips to those of the beloved child whom 
 she was about to sacrifice to her wounded 
 vanity, as the pagan priests hung garlands 
 on the necks of the victims they offered as
 
 100 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 holocausts to their gods ; and in another mo- 
 ment she left the apartment. 
 
 Happy, happy Laura ! She felt convinced 
 that she had now fathomed the great secret. 
 Her mother was to be Countess of Ravens- 
 wood : there could be no doubt of it. But 
 why should Ferdinand have behaved so 
 strangely ? The marriage of the Earl could 
 in no way interfere with his own. On the 
 contrary, it seemed to her that this double 
 link between the two families was the most 
 desirable thing that could happen. She 
 sought in vain for a solution of the mystery ; 
 and at length, wearied with thought, and 
 anxious not to miss Mr. Greville when he 
 called, as she persuaded herself that he 
 must do in the course of the day, she rose 
 from her bed, put on her prettiest and most 
 becoming morning-dress, and established her- 
 self in the drawing-room to await his arrival.
 
 GUAIIDIAN AND WARD. 101 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 
 
 Ferdinand Greville meanwhile left the house 
 of Mrs. Heathcote like one oppressed by night- 
 mare. Everything about him appeared false 
 and unreal ; he even doubted his own identity. 
 Could it really be that love and honour had 
 alike been lost in one brief hour ? That the 
 tenderest emotions of his heart, and the highest 
 aspirations of his nature, were alike trodden 
 into the dust ? That the name which he had 
 hitherto borne so proudly was a stigma and a 
 disgrace, which the slightest accident might 
 have made a world's scorn and byword? 
 Oh, it was too, too much ! He dared not 
 look back upon the past, for was its main 
 feature not written in characters that could 
 only be purged by fire ? And the future I 
 What could the future now be to him ? What 
 must he be henceforth? The pitiful tool of
 
 102 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 a stern and revengeful woman, whose foot was 
 on his neck, and whose iron will must be his 
 law. He had done his duty to his father ; 
 but what was about to be his conduct towards 
 the benefactor who had watched over his 
 infancy, shielded his youth, and sustained his 
 manhood ? Even the fact that in obeying the 
 injunctions of Mrs. Heathcote he was crushing 
 out his own heart's blood, did not affect him 
 so bitterlv as the conviction that he was about 
 to become a traitor to his own conscience. 
 Was there no way of escape ? He could dis- 
 cover none. The price of his perfidy had 
 been paid, and he must earn his wages. He 
 was bound hand and foot, and it was useless 
 to struggle against his bonds. Should he even 
 dare to betray his pledge, could he hope that 
 his persecutor would keep his secret? that 
 his sister, whose sensitive spirit must wither 
 beneath the least touch of shame, would be 
 suffered to remain in ignorance of the load of 
 obloquy by which they might be overwhelmed 
 by one fatal word? He could not entertain 
 so wild a hope ; and thus fell with one crash 
 all his bright visions of a stainless and honour- 
 able career. The straight path of truth and 
 rectitude was closed against him for ever,
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 103 
 
 while the broad highway of treachery and 
 falsehood spread out before him, and he felt 
 that he was fated to follow it even to the end. 
 "What was he about to do ? To betray the 
 friend for whom he would have died ; to 
 deceive the woman who had trusted in his 
 truth ; to deny the principles which had 
 hitherto been the rule of his life ; and to 
 become to himself an object of abhorrence 
 and contempt. There is often no deeper 
 tragedy than the workings of a human heart. 
 The most bitter portion of Greville's trial 
 was the deep affection which he bore towards 
 both the individuals whom he had bound 
 himself to deceive. He could have endured 
 his own unhappiness, and he could have 
 struggled against it manfully, had it been 
 free from shame and dishonour ; a shame and 
 a dishonour from which he had only liberated 
 the memory of his father by casting the 
 burthen upon himself: but his adopted father, 
 whom he was bound to reverence? but the 
 trusting girl to whom he had vowed an un- 
 dying attachment ? His position was hideous ; 
 and there were moments in which he began 
 to fear that his brain must give way beneath 
 the pressure.
 
 104 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 Had Mrs. Heatlicote only revealed to him 
 her fatal secret at the commencement of their 
 intimacy, he would, at any cost of misery to 
 himself, have avoided all chance of meeting 
 Laura, whose pride must, in that case, easily 
 have triumphed over what she would have 
 learned to regard as a mere passing infatua- 
 tion ; but it was now too late to hope that 
 she could hold it so lightly; and thus her 
 blighted youth would be the first-fruits of his 
 apparent perfidy. And, then, to what a 
 destiny was her heartless mother about to 
 condemn her ! for, estimable as he might be, 
 it was impossible that a girl of Laura's age 
 could love a man who, like Lord Ravenswood, 
 was old enough to be her father. 
 
 And thus he coldly and resolutely reviewed 
 the past. The bitter cup was at his lips, and 
 he was resolved to drain it to the very dregs. 
 He had written to the confiding girl to tell 
 her that he loved her, — that her affection was 
 essential to his existence; he had entreated 
 her not to reject his suit, — to forgive his 
 presumption, and to trust her happiness in his 
 keeping ; and when he became a guest in her 
 mother's house he had renewed all these 
 assurances, and had won her to confess that
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 105 
 
 the affection was mutual ; and now, without 
 daring to explain to her the wretched cause of 
 his apostasy, he was about to propose, nay 
 more, to urge her marriage with another ; and 
 to do this, not faintly or feebly, but with all 
 the energy and perseverance which he could 
 bring to bear upon the subject. 
 
 But should he, he asked himself, really 
 have strength for this ? His conscience an- 
 swered that the streno^th must be found in his 
 
 D 
 
 memory of the pledge which he had given to 
 Mrs. Heathcote. The proofs of his father's 
 guilt existed no longer, it was true, but they 
 had been destroyed in the full confidence that 
 lie would not forfeit his word ; and even fallen 
 as he felt himself to be, he could not requite 
 that confidence by an act of treachery. Of 
 the sin which had been forced upon him he 
 must endure all the consequences ; but he did 
 not dare to increase a burthen which was 
 already almost too heavy to bear. 
 
 In these miserable reflections the nio;ht 
 wore slowly and wearily away, and the morn- 
 ing found Greville fevered and unrefreshed. 
 As he was about to leave his room, the Earl's 
 confidential servant met him with a request 
 that he would, immediately that he had break-
 
 106 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 fasted, join Lord Ravensvvood in his study ; and 
 hastily swallowing a cup of tea, with an aching 
 head and a heavy heart he obeyed the summons. 
 
 His patron was already seated at his desk, 
 engaged in making marginal notes upon some 
 letters which were spread before him, and a 
 kindly nod greeted his entrance. 
 
 " I am sorry to be compelled to request 
 your services so early, my dear boy ; " said the 
 Earl ; '' when you can scarcely have recovered 
 from last night's dissipation ; but I have 
 pressing need of your assistance." 
 
 And as he spoke he thrust towards his 
 young secretary a portion of the papers upon 
 which he had been employed ; while so en- 
 grossed did he continue with the business 
 before him, that the haggard appearance of 
 Ferdinand passed unobserved. 
 
 Irksome as the task of wTiting letter after 
 letter could not fail to be under such circum- 
 stances, the mental exertion was beneficial to 
 him, and before his duties were concluded he 
 had regained considerable self-control; his 
 nerves had become more steady ; and he was 
 enabled, with more composure than he had 
 hoped to attain, to enter into conversation 
 with Lord Ravens wood.
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 107 
 
 " Our labour is now over for the dav, 
 Grcvillc ;" said the Earl ; " and we have saved 
 the early post, which was an essential point 
 this morning ; so at last I have time to ask 
 you how you enjoyed your evening. Mrs. 
 Heathcote is decidedly an admirable hostess ; 
 and many a woman of high rank, who believes 
 that the mere empty fact of that rank gives 
 her the privilege to neglect her guests, might 
 profit by her example. I nowhere feel myself 
 more thoroughly at home and at my ease than 
 in that house ; and I am very glad that we 
 have become such good neighbours. Miss 
 Heathcote is in every respect the friend whom 
 I would have chosen for our dear Enna ; while 
 the lady herself appears to me to be a most 
 devoted mother. It is really beautiful to hear 
 how enthusiastically she speaks of her child. 
 Indeed, to be quite frank with you, Ferdinand, 
 had I been possessed of a little more presump- 
 tion, and some twenty years younger, I might 
 have been inclined to suspect that the hand- 
 some widow had a design upon my coronet. 
 In fact, the more I reflect upon what passed 
 between us, and certain expressions which 
 escaped her as if unconsciously, the more I 
 am led to believe that I should not have been
 
 103 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 altogether mistaken if I had adopted some 
 such idea." 
 
 " You can scarcely be surprised, my lord, 
 even should it be so;" said Greville, forcing 
 himself to reply ; " Mrs. Heathcote would not, 
 if my perspicuity has not been at fault, be the 
 first person who has quarrelled with your 
 cehbacy." 
 
 " Well, well," laughed his companion ; 
 " she most assuredly did, though it was very 
 prettily and gracefully done ; so prettily and 
 so gracefully indeed, that she almost brought 
 me to agree with her. I only say almost, 
 however, for I remembered in time that, un- 
 like most old bachelors, I had a home and 
 two dear children to make that home a happy 
 one ; so I would not be deluded into the ad- 
 mission that she had convinced me of my 
 error." 
 
 Poor Ferdinand ! How that affectionate 
 assurance wrung his tortured spirit. But what 
 right had he to feel? He must act; so he 
 crushed down the rising agony as he replied : 
 "There can, nevertheless, be no doubt that 
 Mrs. Heathcote was perfectly right. You must 
 not forget, my lord, that you are the inheritor 
 of a proud name and exalted rank."
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 109 
 
 " And should these compel me to marry 
 when I prefer a single life?" 
 
 " It would ill become me to dictate to you, 
 my benefactor and best friend; but if you 
 authorise me to offer an opinion " 
 
 "Do not be sententious, Ferdinand, but 
 speak out. As to my name and my rank, my 
 nephew will perpetuate the one, and worthily 
 represent the other." 
 
 ''Still;" persisted the wretched young 
 man, half choked by every word that he 
 uttered ; " there can be no doubt that during 
 your own lifetime both might derive additional 
 lustre from wealth ; and in this case " 
 
 " Greville, you perfectly astonish me!" 
 said the Earl : " this is the first time in your 
 life you ever gave me cause to believe that 
 you attached so much importance to money 
 as to imagine that it could ennoble the nature 
 of any man." 
 
 " I expressed myself badly ;" was the re- 
 ply ; " I am, of course, quite aware that you 
 cannot possibly require any adventitious aid 
 to secure to you the esteem which you so 
 richly merit. What I meant was " 
 
 " Never mind what you meant, Ferdinand, 
 for I am convinced that it was nothing which
 
 110 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 could pain me ; but rather tell me what pos- 
 sible analogy there can be between your 
 golden speculations and the civilities of Mrs. 
 Heathcote towards myseK." 
 
 " I will endeavom* to make mv meaninsr 
 better understood;" said Greville, who. as the 
 moment approached in which he felt that he 
 must enter upon his arduous mission, began to 
 fear that he shoidd fail. '' When I asserted 
 that wealth would be hisjhlv desirable, even to 
 vou, I was lookinor onlv to vour weU-known 
 generosity of heart ; and reflecting how fre- 
 quently I had heard you express regret at 
 your inabdity to perform some kind action. 
 I know how severely you feel the privation 
 when you are compelled to refuse help to the 
 needy, and solace to the sufi'ering. You are 
 an ardent admirer of art, but it is out of your 
 power to patronise it; and thus you lose a 
 thousand opportunities of encouraging strug- 
 gling genius and patient industry." 
 
 " I admit that there is much truth in what 
 you say, my dear boy;" conceded Lord Ra- 
 venswood ; '' but, knowing that I must sub- 
 mit to necessity, I do not permit myseKto 
 repine. Of that weakness, at least, I am not 
 oruiltv."
 
 GL'ARDIAN AND WARD. Ill 
 
 " Still, when you can command a noble 
 fortune why should you refuse it ? " 
 
 " Command a noble fortune I " echoed the 
 Earl ; " and from whence is it to be derived ?" 
 
 "jVIrs. Heathcote is enormously wealthy 
 
 " Mrs. Heathcote ! why, surely, you do not 
 suppose me to be such a coxcomb as to 
 imagine that she seriously wishes to become 
 my wife ? " 
 
 " Not precisely,'' was the brief rejoinder. 
 
 " Then pray explain the enigma, for it is 
 impossible for me to do so." 
 
 " The ambition of Mrs. Heathcote;" said 
 Greville, turning ashy pale ; " is to bestow on 
 you the hand of her daughter, with ten thou- 
 sand a-year at present, and as much more in 
 perspective." 
 
 " Her daughter ! the hand of her daugh- 
 ter!" exclaimed Lord Ravenswood indig- 
 nantly. " What authority have you for such 
 an assertion?" 
 
 " Her own. She requested me last night 
 to inform you that this alliance was the 
 object of her greatest ambition." 
 
 " Can it be possible?" sternly asked the 
 Earl ; " has she forgotten that her daughter
 
 112 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 is still a mere child, while I am rapidly be- 
 coming an old man ? Such a sacrifice would 
 be monstrous ! " 
 
 " Why would it be a sacrifice?" persisted 
 Ferdinand, resolved to redeem the pledge 
 which he had given, bitterly as he hated the 
 cause in which he was engaged ; " I confess 
 that I can see nothing monstrous in her wish 
 to see Miss Heathcote become your wife. 
 Do we not witness similar marriages every 
 day?" 
 
 " We do, Ferdinand; but can you be- 
 lieve me to be one of those selfish and imbe- 
 cile old men who, in order to enrich them- 
 selves, coldly condemn the young and the 
 beautiful to a living; death ? If so, vou have 
 strangely misjudged me, and we have never 
 understood each other. Am I a fitting target 
 for the arrows of the malicious and the sneers 
 of the censorious ? I repeat that this idea is 
 monstrous ! Just consider to what you are 
 urging me. Am I a suitable bridegroom for 
 a lovely girl of eighteen ? Could I ever hope 
 to win the affections of a woman who requires 
 only to be seen to be surrounded by adorers ? 
 Do you think that I could ever debase myself 
 by playing the part of a slippered pantaloon.
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 113 
 
 and pursuing vvith my wig and wrinkles the 
 active Columbine ; who would for ever escape 
 my clutch? You see that I am disposed to 
 make merry over your notable project, and 
 that is the only rational manner in which to 
 treat it ; althou2:h I confess that I reo:ret to 
 have received so absurd a proposal through 
 you, for I thought you had known me better." 
 
 "Do not reproach me;" said the poor 
 young man deprecatingly ; " I may have been 
 to blame in undertaking to deliver the mes- 
 sage of Mrs. Heathcote ; but believe me when I 
 declare that I had no idea that I should incur 
 your displeasure by so doing. Most gladly, 
 indeed, would I have declined an ofdce which 
 certainly appeared to me to be wanting in 
 delicacy, but she would take no denial. More- 
 over 1 thought, and you must pardon me if I 
 say that 1 still think, you may command the 
 affections of any woman, however young 
 or however beautiful; nor can there be a 
 doubt " 
 
 "Nonsense! nonsense!" interposed the 
 Earl impatiently ; " another word on this 
 subject, and I will never set my foot in Mrs. 
 Heathcote's house aG;ain." 
 
 Greville was silenced ; but assuredly no 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 plenipotentiary was ever less mortified by the 
 failure of his mission ; and for a brief instant 
 a iiood of joy inundated his heart. There 
 was no mistaking the sincerity of Lord Ra- 
 venswood; and Laura was saved. Yet for 
 Avhat ? For whom ? The burning tide rushed 
 back. Not for him — not for him — for was 
 not her mother still in possession of his fatal 
 secret ?
 
 A TRAGEDI. 115 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A TRAGEDY. 
 
 Ferdinand was on his way to his own room. 
 in order that he might reflect at leisure upon 
 the manner in w^hich he could, with the great- 
 est delicacy, communicate to Mrs. Heathcote 
 the failure of her darling scheme, when he was 
 joined by his sister ; and, even pre-occupied as 
 he was, he was instantly struck by the air of 
 constraint and embarrassment with which she 
 requested him to return with her to the break- 
 fast-room, as she had something to confide to 
 him. Apprehensive that some unpleasant oc- 
 currence had taken place, he did not hesitate 
 to comply ; and they were no sooner standing 
 side by side in the deep bay of the window, 
 his arm about her waist and her cheek pil- 
 lowed lovingly upon his shoulder, than in a 
 low voice, and with a burning blush, Enna 
 informed him, that since they last spoke upon
 
 116 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 the subject she had changed her mind with 
 regard to Mr. Carlyon, and had now deter- 
 mined to become his wife. 
 
 A cold shudder ran through the veins of 
 Greville. He had already decided that the 
 w^hole of their little fortune must imperatively 
 be transferred to Mrs. Heathcote, in part pay- 
 ment of their father's debt ; for until he had 
 done all in his power to liquidate it he felt 
 that his duty was still unfulfilled. 
 
 " AVoman-like ! " he exclaimed, as he with- 
 drew his arm from the agitated girl, and 
 affected anger in order to conceal his anguish ; 
 "You never know your own minds for an 
 hoar ! It was at your request that I desired 
 Carlyon not to persist in his addresses, and 
 now you coolly admit that you were only 
 coquetting, and that you are quite ready to 
 marry him whenever he may feel so disposed ! 
 I beg to decline the task of lowering you in 
 his esteem; and confess, Enna, that I gave 
 you more credit for womanly dignity and 
 self-respect." 
 
 " You are very cruel, Ferdinand ; " said 
 his sister ; "to judge me so harshly, and to 
 speak to me in so angry a tone." 
 
 " I am not angry, Enna, but I am pain-
 
 A TRAGEDY. 117 
 
 fully disappointed;" was the reply; ''you 
 ought to feel as I do, that having decidedly 
 rejected Carlyon, it would now be the height 
 of indelicacy to recall him. I cannot tell you 
 how mortified I was to see you dancing with 
 him last night, when, since your rupture, I 
 have studiously avoided him in order to spare 
 his feelings." 
 
 " But you are not aware, Ferdinand, that 
 at the ball he entreated me to revoke my 
 decision, and that he persisted in those en- 
 treaties until I finally consented to do so. I 
 will now confess to you that I always liked 
 him, and that it w-as only from motives of 
 prudence that I declined to become his wife. 
 But you know, my dear brother ;" she added 
 playfully ; " that the reasons by which I was 
 then actuated exist no longer. I do not 
 require to be told that ere long Laura wiU be 
 my sister, and my poor little portion utterly 
 useless to you; so that " 
 
 "Enna;" said Greville, striving to retain 
 his composure, and resisting the impulse 
 which he felt to clasp the generous girl to his 
 heart ; " I will have no secrets from you, 
 although it is painful to me to confess that 
 you have every right to be displeased with
 
 lis A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 me. I ought to have done this sooner, and 
 then my position would have been less onerous 
 than it has become since your acceptance of 
 Carlyon." 
 
 He paused ! Only a day ago and he had 
 been the very embodiment of truth ; never 
 had he permitted himself even to equivocate ; 
 and now, at the very moment when he had 
 assured his unsuspecting sister that he was 
 about to be perfectly frank with her, he was 
 in reality endeavouring to invent some plaus- 
 ible falsehood, in order to conceal from her 
 the frightful discovery which he had made on 
 the previous morning. 
 
 " What can you have to tell me, Ferdi- 
 nand?" 
 
 " You will learn it only too soon, my 
 poor sister ! " replied Greville, as he suddenly 
 resolved upon his line of action ; •' and you 
 must forgive me if I say that you are not 
 altogether blameless for what has occurred : 
 for had you not so positively assured me that 
 on the death of Lord Ravens wood you should 
 go to reside with your aunt, and that nothing 
 should ever induce you to marry, I, on my side, 
 should not have considered myself justified 
 in disposing of our joint inheritance, as I
 
 A TRAGEDY. 119 
 
 regret to say that I have been rash enough 
 to do." 
 
 "But hou' have you disposed of it?" 
 asked Miss Greville. 
 
 " I was weak enough to Hsten to the 
 advice of a friend, and to enter into a specu- 
 lation, by which I was assured that I should 
 quadruple our small capital. The bubble 
 has burst, however; and I fear that we shall 
 save but little from the wreck." 
 
 " Do not reproach yourself, my dear Fer- 
 dinand ! " said his sister tenderly ; '' I am 
 quite sure that you did everything for the 
 best, so we must bear this misfortune without 
 repining. You are much more to pity than 
 I can be, for you have been deceived and 
 duped by men who could not appreciate your 
 high principles and unsuspicious nature. Con- 
 sole yourself ! You have only lost your 
 money, but they have forfeited their honour, 
 which, once gone, no riches can restore." 
 
 " Enough, enough, Enna ! " interposed 
 her brother hurriedly ; " we will not discuss 
 the honour of our family, lest the very trans- 
 action w^hich I have just confessed to you 
 should lead some uncharitable person to doubt 
 my own. You cannot marry Carlyon ; his
 
 120 A LIFE-STRUGQLE. 
 
 income is by no means a large one, and he 
 cannot afford to take a wife without a penny. 
 We must wait for a time with patience — 
 brighter days may come ; and now let us 
 terminate this conversation, which, at the 
 present moment, is very painful to me." 
 
 " So be it, my dear brother ! But I do 
 beseech of you not to allow this miserable 
 question of money to prey upon your mind 
 and affect your temper. I scarcely know you 
 to-day; and I w^ould rather resign every 
 shilling that I possess than feel that I had 
 lost your affection." 
 
 And so they parted : Enna bewildered 
 and in tears, and Greville with a new sin 
 upon his soul. He was fairly in the toils; 
 and the deep groan which escaped from his 
 overcharged heart, as his fond and confiding 
 sister disappeared, bore witness to the intense 
 agony of his spirit. 
 
 *' Oh, my father ! " he murmured to him- 
 self, as he sank, overcome by moral exhaus- 
 tion, on a sofa, and buried his throbbing 
 temples among the cushions ; " oh, my fa- 
 ther ! if it be possible that you can see my 
 anguish, intercede for me ; for I am very, very 
 wretched!"
 
 A TRAGEDY. 121 
 
 Only a few days after this conversation 
 between the brother and sister, Ferdinand 
 was once more hastily summoned to the 
 presence of the Earl, whom he found pacing 
 his study in visible agitation. 
 
 "Greville;" he said, as the young man 
 entered the apartment; "I have some important 
 and very melancholy news to communicate to 
 you ; and yet I confess that it is difficult for 
 me to utter words of condolence where there 
 is so much to console you for the fearful mis- 
 fortune which has occurred." 
 
 Ferdinand sank breathless upon a chair. 
 By what new misery was he to be overwhelmed? 
 What consolation could there be for him under 
 any trial ? 
 
 " Compose yourself, my dear boy ; " pursued 
 Lord RavensAYOod ; " and believe my experience 
 when I tell you that there is no great evil in 
 this world without its concomitant good." 
 
 Ferdinand with difficulty suppressed a 
 groan. 
 
 " Was the daughter of Lord Sotheby, who 
 married a Mr. Marston, any relative of yours ?" 
 
 " She was not, my lord." 
 
 " As I never before heard you mention 
 her, and that she has never sought to deprive
 
 122 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 me of your society, I hoped as miTch ; and I 
 trust that there was no great feelmg of attach- 
 ment towards her on your part?" 
 
 " There could not be, my lord, for we have 
 never met. I have heard from my sister that 
 she was a person of warm heart, but of 
 extremely eccentric habits ; and that just 
 previously to the death of my father, chancing 
 to meet Enna, she formed so strong an attach- 
 ment for her as to offer to adopt her, should 
 she consent to such a measure; and this the 
 poor child would assuredly have done had 
 you not, at the very moment when she became 
 an orphan, received her under your own roof, 
 and re-united her to her forgotten brother, — 
 for your lordship may remember, that from the 
 age of four years I had never seen my home." 
 " I am aware of it, my poor boy." 
 " I had nearly forgotten the circumstance ; " 
 pursued Ferdinand ; " when Lady Maria most 
 kindly replied to a letter addressed to her by 
 my sister a year or two ago, again offering 
 her a home beneath her roof, should she ever 
 desire to place herself under her protection ; 
 and consequently, although nearly a stranger 
 to us both, we have cause to feel grateful for 
 her generous consideration."
 
 A TRAGEDY. 123 
 
 "And had Enna any intention to avail 
 herself of this proposition?" asked the Earl 
 greatly disturbed. 
 
 " None whatever ; at least, not at present : 
 but it was a great relief to us both to know 
 that, should a moment arrive in which v\'e felt 
 that circumstances " 
 
 "I understand — I understand;" inter- 
 posed Lord Ravens wood ; " and now tell 
 me — Had you any expectations from Lady 
 Maria?" 
 
 " Not the slisfhtest. For the handsome 
 property of her husband was bequeathed to 
 herself in trust for her son " 
 
 " After which " 
 
 "After which, I have been told, that as 
 Mr. Marston had outlived all his relations, 
 the said property, in the event of his son's 
 dying unmarried, was absolutely at her own 
 disposal." 
 
 " True — you have been rightly informed ; 
 and nothing remains for me, save to acquaint 
 you with the fact that, acting upon her hus- 
 band's Will, Lady Maria, in the dread of such 
 a contingency — for the boy was sickly from 
 his birth — for some reason which it is now 
 impossible to fathom, made her own in her 
 tm-n, and has constituted you her sole heir."
 
 124 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 ''Me?" exclaimed Greville, almost in- 
 credulously. 
 
 " What I tell you is as true as it is strange/' 
 pursued the Earl ; " and I can only conjecture 
 that the terms in which our dear Enna has 
 spoken of you during her correspondence with 
 Lady Maria must have been her inducement 
 to act as she has done." 
 
 " Then why not have left her property to 
 Enna herself?" 
 
 " Because there is a condition annexed to 
 the bequest which your sister could not have 
 fulfilled. And now, my dear boy, I have to 
 relate to you the sad circumstances under 
 which you inherit this princely fortune." 
 
 Greville listened earnestly and breathlessly, 
 but he could not articulate a syllable. 
 
 "The tale which I have to tell is a sad 
 one ;" continued Lord Ravenswood ; lifting a 
 letter from the table, and slowly withdrawing 
 it from its envelope. " Lady Maria had taken 
 her son to Italy for the benefit of his health, the 
 state of which caused her great uneasiness ; and 
 for a time she appears to have had every reason 
 to congratulate herself on the beneficial effect 
 produced by the change of climate : but infor- 
 mation reached her friends only a few days 
 since, that both mother and son had been
 
 A TRAGEDY. 125 
 
 drowned in the lake of Como. No possible 
 explanation can be given as to the cause of 
 this fatal accident. The day, it would appear, 
 was calm and bright, and scarcely a breath of 
 wind rippled the sui'face of the water ; never- 
 theless, the boat in which they were seated 
 suddenly capsized, and while the boatmen 
 struck out and swam towards the shore, your 
 unfortunate benefactress and her son perished." 
 
 " But the bodies ?" gasped out Ferdinand. 
 
 " They have been recovered, and are now 
 on their way to England, under the charge of 
 an old and faithful servant ; and you have a 
 trying duty before you, my dear Greville ; as 
 the letter which I hold in my hand has been 
 written, not only to inform me of the fatal 
 event, but also to inquire if I am able to vouch 
 for your identity, and if so, to urge me to 
 hasten your departure from town, in order 
 that you may be ready to receive the remains 
 of the unhappy victims when they reach home." 
 
 " It seems like a horrid dream ! " murmured 
 the young man. 
 
 " It is, indeed, a most fearful visitation ;" 
 said Lord Ravenswood soothingly ; " but you 
 must not dwell upon the more painful points 
 of the subject; new and urgent duties have
 
 126 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 devolved upon you, and they must be fulfilled. 
 Poor Enna ! I fear that she will feel this 
 misfortune deeply ; and you must do your 
 utmost to counteract the effects of the shock. 
 After your departure for Sussex I vi^ill watch 
 over her with the care and tenderness of a 
 father ; and no doubt her friend, Miss Heath- 
 cote " 
 
 "Yes, it will be better so:" exclaimed 
 Ferdinand, starting to his feet ; " I will go at 
 once. I must see my sister — there has been 
 a cloud between us — I have been harsh and 
 unkind; but she also will find comfort when 
 I tell her that I shall never so pain her again. 
 Forgive me, oh ! forgive me, my more than 
 father, for all my faults — ail my errors — they 
 shall be atoned, even as they have already 
 been " 
 
 " Greville, you are beside yourself ! " said 
 the Earl, as he grasped his hand ; " what 
 faults, what errors can you have to atone? 
 You who, from your boyhood up, have been 
 the very soul of truth and honour! you, upon 
 whose uprightness I would pledge my ex- 
 istence ; who have been led into no vice ; in- 
 dulged in no excesses; you, in short, the 
 son of my affection and the solace of my
 
 A TllAGEDY. 1.27 
 
 declining years. Go, boy ; go to your sister ; 
 and if indeed, as you say, there has been any 
 cause of displeasure between you, let it be 
 forgotten and blotted out for ever, Not 
 another word! — leave me." 
 
 And thrusting him from the room, Lord 
 Ravenswood closed the door behind him.
 
 128 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE FRIENDS. 
 
 We will pass briefly over the events vrhich 
 rapidly succeeded each other during the two 
 following months. Suffice it that, through 
 the precautions taken by the Earl, Greville 
 experienced no difficulty in establishing his 
 claim to the Marston property; which he, 
 however, found encumbered by a clause, 
 through which he was required to assume 
 the name and arms of the Marston family. 
 Eor a moment an acute feeling of annoyance 
 at this discovery passed over him ; but it did 
 not last. What had he to regret in resigning 
 a name which was tainted by dishonour, iu 
 order to replace it by one which was still pure 
 and unsullied? And then his thoughts fast- 
 ened upon the motto of the Grevilles — Per 
 sempre, 
 
 " It is mine no longer;" he murmured to
 
 THE FRIENDS. 129 
 
 himself; " and I accept the omen. The guilt 
 of another is not to cling to me for ever 1 
 Miserable I may be — must be — but my 
 name will no longer be branded with dis- 
 grace." 
 
 As the Earl of Sotheby had no son, the 
 title and entailed estates devolved to a distant 
 cousin ; who could, however, advance no claim 
 to the personal property of Lady Maria's hus- 
 band, bequeathed to her under her husband's 
 Will. Thus there was no rational ground for 
 litigation, when the identity of Ferdinand had 
 once been proved ; and Mr. Greville-Marston 
 accordingly returned to town, no longer the 
 almost dependent of Lord Ravenswood, but a 
 much more wealthy man than his patron. 
 
 The painful event which had thrown the 
 Earl's circle into mourninor, necessarilv com- 
 pelled Mrs. Heathcote to abandon for a time 
 her matrimonial projects; while Ferdinand's 
 prolonged absence from her house was attri- 
 buted to the legal business consequent upon 
 his inheritance. 
 
 This pretext was, however, far from satis- 
 fying the anxious and bewildered Laura ; who, 
 ignorant of her mother's ambitious designs, 
 painfully felt that no business, be it as im- 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 180 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 portant as it might, could excuse the neglect 
 of her lover; and when she remembered his 
 abrupt departure on the night of the ball — 
 the last time that they had ever met — strange 
 forebodings of some evil to come weighed upon 
 her spirits ; she grew pale and thin, and her 
 only pleasure was to sit beside Miss Greville 
 in her grief, and to weep when she wept. 
 
 Those tears were a relief to her, and Enna 
 loved her the better for her sympathy; but 
 when at length the gentle mourner grew more 
 composed, and was able to talk over the al- 
 tered circumstances of her idolised brother, 
 she found her friend cold and taciturn ; and 
 at length ventured to reproach her for her 
 indifference to the interests of one by whom 
 she was so tenderly beloved. 
 
 Then, indeed, the poor girl's strength 
 failed her; and throwing herself upon the 
 bosom of her friend, she poured forth all her 
 fears and all her suffering. Miss Greville, 
 ignorant as herself of the fatal nature of the 
 interview in the boudoir, did not hesitate to 
 console her by assurances of the deep affection 
 of Ferdinand ; and by reminding her that the 
 only impediment to their union — that of his 
 want of fortune — was now removed.
 
 THE FRIENDS. 131 
 
 " Deeply painful as was tha eveiit by 
 which he has been enriched, my dear Laura;" 
 she pursued ; " he may now plead his cause 
 with less reluctance to Mrs. Heathcote, and 
 with more confidence than he could other- 
 wise have done. You know that Ferdinand 
 is proud, and tenacious of his honour; and 
 had your mother expressed the shghtest sus- 
 picion that it was your fortune which he co- 
 veted, it w^ould have cut him to the soul. I 
 am glad that you have been frank with me, 
 for I feel as though you were already my 
 own dear little sister ; and I trust that there 
 are yet many, many bright days in store for 
 us all." 
 
 "Including Mr. Carlyon?" inquired her 
 companion archly, as she dashed away her 
 tears, and strove to smile. 
 
 " Including Mr. Carlyon ; " acquiesced 
 Miss Greville ; " for I will not affect to mis- 
 understand you. Yes, Laura, I hope to be 
 as happy as yourself. This sudden wealth, 
 for which I suspect that neither of us would 
 have greatly cared under other circumstances, 
 will probably work as fortunate a change in 
 my destiny as in your own. Augustus Car- 
 lyon is not rich, and prudential motives
 
 Vd2 A LIFE-STRUGGLE, 
 
 might probably have compelled me to resign 
 the hope of becoming his wife. Now, how- 
 ever " 
 
 " Do not play the prude, Enna; Mr. 
 Carlyon would never have yielded to your 
 'prudential motives,' I am quite sure;" said 
 Laura with a pretty pout ; " I only wish that 
 I were as certain of the affection of Ferdinand 
 as you are of that of Augustus. I shall call 
 him Augustus, as he is to be my brother-in- 
 law." 
 
 " Naughty little sceptic ! " was the reply 
 of Miss Greville, as she pressed her lips to 
 the blushing cheek of the fair girl ; " beware, 
 lest I betray your unbelief to Ferdinand, and 
 he should punish you as you deserve." 
 
 "Enna;" suddenly exclaimed her com- 
 panion, as Avith flushed cheeks and flashing 
 eyes she released herself from the clasp of 
 the fond arms which were twined about her ; 
 " I cannot endure to hear you jest upon siich 
 a subject ! Mark what I say : should your 
 brother deceive me — and I seem to have a 
 
 foreshadowing that he will deceive me 
 
 But no, no; it is not that — I scarcely know 
 what is passing in my own heart. I will not 
 suspect — will not accuse him — but I say again.
 
 THE FRIENDS. 133 
 
 should the one dream of my life prove false — 
 should I not become the wife of your brother 
 — then I will not answer for the misery which 
 may ensue. I am young in years, but I am 
 firm in purpose. I will not be treated as a 
 puppet; as a tool, with which others may 
 work out their own purposes ; as a child, who 
 must be frightened by a rod, or deluded by 
 
 a tov. I have that within me which must 
 
 i/ 
 
 enable me to assert myself; and the deter- 
 mination will be as decided as the power." 
 
 " Laura, you terrify me !" exclaimed Miss 
 Greville ; " what can cause this excite- 
 ment?" 
 
 " The conviction that I am not under- 
 stood ; the assurance, whence derived I know 
 not, that I am marked out as the victim of 
 some influence over which I have no control. 
 So be it ; I am still mistress of myself. The 
 Romans could fetter the limbs of their cap- 
 tives, and send them to the arena to die, but 
 they could not fetter the soul. And so will 
 it be with me. Mine is a nature that can 
 love but once ; and woe be to them who cross 
 my path, and seek to blight my existence !" 
 
 " My dear, dear Laura ! " 
 
 "True;" said the excited girl, suddenly
 
 134 A LIFE -STRUGGLE. 
 
 recovering her composure ; '* your meek and 
 beautiful nature cannot comprehend me : we 
 are Hke snow and fire. But you must forgive 
 me, Enna, were it only for the deep love which 
 I bear to your brother." 
 
 " Rely upon it, Laura, that your affection 
 is as fervently returned ; and I confess that I 
 am at a loss to account for the extraordinary 
 idea by which you appear to be possessed at 
 the very moment when everything would seem 
 to conduce to your marriage with Ferdinand, 
 Only a few weeks ago Mrs. Heathcote might 
 indeed have refused to sanction it, owing to 
 the inadeqiiacy of his fortune ; but now, no 
 such impediment stands in the way ; while, as 
 regards both his birth and his principles, she 
 could not desire a more eligible son-in-law." 
 
 " All you say is quite true, Enna ; but the 
 more I reflect upon his conduct after that 
 interview with mamma, the more I am con- 
 vinced that, for some reason or other, known 
 only to themselves, he has ceased to think of 
 me as a wife." 
 
 " Be more rational, my dear girl, and do not 
 torment yourself unnecessarily ;" said her com- 
 panion ; " only a few weeks ago I was speak- 
 ing of you to my brother, and telling him that
 
 THE FRIENDS. 135 
 
 I had discovered his secret ; I even alhided to 
 your marriage^ and he did not utter a word 
 which could lead me to suppose that he had 
 resigned his pretensions to your hand." 
 
 "But;" asked Laura eagerly; ''did he 
 appear anxious to have the affair definitively 
 settled ? Did he say that he would at once 
 speak to my mother upon the subject, as he 
 has for the last year been urging me to let 
 him do ? Tell me exactly what he said when 
 you mentioned the subject." 
 
 '• Really ;" said Miss Greville, with a start 
 and a look of unmistakable distress ; " I am 
 quite unable to repeat his words. For to 
 tell you the truth, Laura;" she pursued, 
 striving to conceal the sudden misgiving which 
 had come over her ; " during that very con- 
 versation Ferdinand and I had the first mis- 
 understanding of our lives; and I was so 
 painfully agitated that I cannot precisely re- 
 member what passed." 
 
 Miss Heathcote shook her head. 
 
 " I am answered, Enna ; " she said, as she 
 rose from beside her friend ; " for I know 
 your unselfish nature well enough to be con- 
 vinced that, even under those circumstances, 
 you would not have forgotten anything which
 
 136 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 interested me so deeply. That there is a 
 mystery I am now more satisfied than ever ; 
 and I will not rest until I have discovered its 
 meaning." 
 
 Enna did not reply, for a similar convic- 
 tion had suddenly grown up in her own mind. 
 Now that she recalled the past, and remem- 
 bered the harsh and evasive manner of her 
 brother, she no longer entertained a doubt 
 that he had pleaded his suit to Mrs. Heath- 
 cote, and that it had been rejected : in which 
 case she easily understood that, as Ferdinand 
 had never confided to her his love for Laura, 
 his pride would not allow him to acknowledge 
 that he was a discarded suitor. Still, how- 
 ever, she would not be discouraged ; for, even 
 supposing that such were indeed the fact, still 
 that rejection would have occurred before the 
 death of Lady Maria Marston, and when he 
 was, in a worldly point of view, by no means 
 an ehgible husband for the wealthy heiress ; 
 while so short a time had yet elapsed since 
 his change of fortune, that it would have been 
 grossly indelicate on the part of Mrs. Heath- 
 cote had she intimated any change of purpose 
 to Ferdinand. That, under the circumstances, 
 he should studiously avoid meeting Laura,
 
 THE FRIENDS. 137 
 
 was natural enough ; and she, consequently, 
 in far less time than it has taken us to follow 
 up her train of thought, came to the conclu^- 
 sion that there was no mystery in the busi- 
 ness after all ; and that in a few weeks, or at 
 the latest a few months, everything would be 
 once more smooth and bright. 
 
 It was also quite impossible that her bro- 
 ther should absent himself much longer from 
 the house of Mrs. Heathcote ; common cour- 
 tesy would not permit, after the intimacy which 
 existed between the two famihes, that he 
 should show her so great a slight. But Enna 
 was wrong. Day by day went by, and when 
 Ferdinand was not closeted with the Earl, he 
 was constantly absent from home on the pre- 
 text of pressing business, though he never ex- 
 plained either its progress or its nature ; and 
 at length Miss Greville remarked that even 
 Lord Ravenswood himself had evidentlv besran 
 to derive much less gratification from the so- 
 ciety of his fair neighbours than he had for- 
 merly evinced. Still, neither the one nor the 
 other uttered a word which could lead her to 
 suppose that any coldness had in fact grown 
 up between them ; and she was compelled to 
 await, with what patience she might, the solu-
 
 188 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 tion of an enigina wliicli she was at present 
 unable to fathom. 
 
 Laura, meanwhile, found herself utterly 
 unable to endure the state of irritating sus- 
 pense to which she had been so unexpectedly 
 condemned. Hitherto she had seen not only 
 her wishes, but even her whims, forestalled by 
 the tenderness of her mother; and now, when 
 she felt that the whole future happiness of her 
 life was at stake, she suddenly perceived that 
 from that hitherto anxious and affectionate 
 mother she must expect neither support nor 
 sympathy. 
 
 She could not know that the keenest 
 suffering of Ferdinand existed in the con- 
 sciousness that, let his worldly circumstances 
 change as they might, he could never again 
 hope to possess the hand of Laura ; and that, 
 with the usual perversity of human nature, the 
 more he became convinced of this fact, the 
 more his passion for her increased. But if 
 she could not feel convinced of this, her ardent 
 nature led her, nevertheless, to divine that he 
 could not in so short a time have conquered 
 an attachment of whose sincerity she had 
 never seriously doubted for an instant ; and 
 young as she was in years, she had too much
 
 THE FRIENDS. 139 
 
 strength of will to sit down tamely to weep 
 over the extinction of all her hopes, while 
 there remained one prospect of compelhng 
 their fulfilment. 
 
 Why, she asked herself, should w^omen be 
 perpetually the slaves of social prejudice, and 
 condemned to conceal their best and holiest 
 feelings, while men are permitted to parade 
 their tastes, wishes, and preferences before the 
 world? Do they feel more deeply or more 
 sincerely than we do ? I cannot believe it. 
 Ferdinand has assured me of his love — it was 
 mine — and I have every right to believe that 
 I still retain it, until he himself confesses that 
 he loves me no longer. Why should I remain 
 in doubt on so vital a point ? Can it really 
 be unwomanly and immodest, situated as we 
 have been for months, to afford him the op- 
 portunity of justifying himself in my eyes? 
 Surely not. I owe it both to him and to 
 myself to ascertain precisely our mutual po- 
 sition. If he be really the heartless flirt which 
 circumstances have made him appear, the 
 sooner I learn to forget that I ever loved him 
 the happier it will be for us both ; while if, 
 on the contrary, he is like mvself, the victim 
 of some hidden plot, some vile worldly con-
 
 140 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 sidevatioii, a little moral courage on my part 
 may at once terminate our present suspense 
 and suffering. 
 
 Miss Heathcote, as this resolution will 
 evince, knew little of the world and its exi- 
 gences, or she would have been at once aware 
 that in all trials of the heart a woman's only 
 resource is silence and submission : she, how- 
 ever, was the creature of impulse rather than 
 of reason ; her whole heart was bound up in 
 Ferdinand, and she would not submit to resign 
 him without a struggle. 
 
 While these thoughts were passing through 
 her mind she had instinctively and almost 
 unconsciously seated herself at her writing- 
 table ; and ere long she was pouring forth 
 her fervid feelings upon paper, with as much 
 confidence and as little compunction as though 
 she had been writing to one of her own sex. 
 Rapidly her flexile pen travelled over page 
 after page; and at length the letter was 
 written, folded, and addressed ; and she re- 
 mained with her eyes riveted on the name 
 wdiich to her was the dearest upon earth, 
 wdien the drawing-room door was suddenly 
 opened, and a servant announced Miss Gre- 
 ville.
 
 THE FRIENDS. 141 
 
 Laura rose hastily to receive her friend, 
 and, either from forgetfulness or design, left 
 her letter upon the table. 
 
 "I am come, dear Laura;" said her 
 visitor ; " to see if I can induce you to do me 
 a pleasure. Lord Ravenswood is anxious 
 that I should once more go into public, and 
 has been kind enough to take a box at the 
 Opera for to-night, in order that I may be 
 present at Grisi's last appearance in Norma; 
 I have two seats to offer to Mrs. Heathcote 
 and yourself, should you have made no other 
 engagement ; and I need not say how de- 
 lighted I shall be if you will accept them. 
 Lord Ravenswood is unfortunately engaged, 
 but Ferdinand will be our escort." 
 
 " Dehghtful ! " exclaimed Laura, as the 
 colour mounted to her cheeks, and her eyes 
 beamed with pleasure; "how very kind of 
 you, with your numerous friends, to think of 
 us ! Is your brother aware of your project ? " 
 
 " Not yet ; but 1 shall see him in an hour 
 or two." 
 
 The cheek of Miss Heathcote suddenly 
 lost its bloom. 
 
 " Shall I ; " she asked ; " go and inform my 
 mother of your kind invitation?"
 
 142 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " Yes, dear ; you had better do so, lest she 
 should make any other engagement." 
 
 Laura left the room. 
 
 When she had been absent a few minutes 
 Miss Greville rose from her seat, and amused 
 herself for a time by examining some paint- 
 ings which lay upon the table ; and having 
 exhausted this source of occupation she list- 
 lessly turned over a few books and pamphlets 
 which were scattered among them, when her 
 eye fell upon a letter addressed to her brother, 
 in the handwriting of Miss Heathcote. 
 
 " What can this mean?" she murmured; 
 " A letter to Perdinand ! Of course, I did 
 not require so undeniable a proof of their 
 mutual affection ; but I certainly was not 
 aware that it had grown into a correspond- 
 ence. What a pleasing discovery ! Dear 
 Ferdinand is, indeed, loved as he deserves to 
 be, when such confidence is placed in his 
 honour. Strange that Laura should leave 
 her letters about so openly ! and yet her ap- 
 parent heedlessness may perhaps have been 
 design. She may find some difficulty in 
 forwarding them to their address, and have 
 trusted to my tact in this instance to assist 
 her. She shall not be disappointed. I will
 
 THE FRIENDS. 143 
 
 spare her the embarrassment of asking me 
 to take charge of this one, at least." 
 
 xind, so saying, she carefully deposited it 
 within her girdle. 
 
 Almost immediately afterwards Miss 
 Heathcote reappeared, bearing the thanks of 
 her mother, who was, she said, much gratified 
 by the attention of Miss Greville, but greatly 
 disappointed that the Earl could not be of the 
 party. It was, however, (although on that 
 point she was of course silent), some compen- 
 sation to reflect that Marston could not evade 
 a direct reply to the inquiries which she re- 
 solved to make as to the success of his mission 
 to Lord Ravenswood.
 
 144 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A HEART-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " Ferdinand ; " said his sister, as he entered 
 the drawing-room ; " I have ventured to make 
 an engagement for you for this evening ; and 
 to promise that you will escort Mrs. Heath- 
 cote, Laura, and myself, to the Opera." 
 
 "To the Opera — to-night!" exclaimed 
 the young man hurriedly; "it is quite im- 
 possible, Enna ! I have already made an ap- 
 pointment in which I cannot fail." 
 
 "But ;" urged Miss Greville ; " Lord Ravens- 
 wood dines out, and is, consequently, unable 
 to accompany us, so that we depend entirely 
 on you ; and I really do think " 
 
 " What can you possibly think, except 
 what I tell you?" asked Eerdinand angrily; 
 " Can you deny that you have no right to 
 dispose of my time without my sanction ? I 
 have told you that I must be elsewhere this
 
 A HEART-STRUGGLE. 145 
 
 evening ; and it is, therefore, quite clear that 
 you must dispense with my presence." 
 
 '' I have, unfortunately, answered for you." 
 
 " In that case you must be responsible for 
 your own heedlessness. I cannot do impossi- 
 bilities, nor do I exactly see that my escort is 
 indispensable. Surely with such a cUajoerone 
 as Mrs. Heathcote " 
 
 " But it will appear so discourteous." 
 
 " I am sorry for it, Enna ; but I have no 
 alternative." 
 
 "Well, then, will you at least call and 
 offer an apology ?" 
 
 " For what ? For your indiscretion ? 
 Certainly not. The fault is your own, and 
 you only can repair it." 
 
 " My dear Ferdinand, how strangely you 
 are altered!" said Miss Greville, almost in 
 tears ; " if I loved you less, I should be half 
 inclined to quarrel with you. However, I 
 must beg Mrs. Heathcote to secure the pro- 
 tection of some gentleman of her acquaintance, 
 for I am quite sure that Lord Ravenswood 
 would not approve of my being seen in pub- 
 lie accompanied only by ladies." 
 
 " No doubt she will readily find an escort : " 
 was the curt reply ; " no man objects to 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 appear at the Opera with three pretty wo- 
 
 men." 
 
 "Except Mr. Greville-Marston," said his 
 sister playfully ; " but I will be generous, 
 even although you have vexed me. See, 
 naughty boy ! here 's something for you !" 
 
 " A letter ! and from whom ?" 
 
 " Oh, indiscreet as I am, I do not venture 
 to open your letters ! " 
 
 " From whom did you receive it ?" 
 
 " I found it on a table." 
 
 Ferdinand took the letter, and laid it on 
 the chimney piece." 
 
 "What! are you not going to read it?" 
 asked his sister. 
 
 " Oh, there is time enough for that ! But 
 you had better write at once to Mrs. Heath- 
 cote, and explain how you are circumstanced;'* 
 was the rejoinder. 
 
 Enna withdrew to her own morning-room 
 for that purpose ; and after pacing up and down 
 for a few minutes, the young man carelessly 
 took up the letter and examined the super- 
 scription. In another instant the hot blood 
 flew to his cheeks and forehead, and he 
 eagerly tore open the envelope. 
 
 "From Laura!" he gasped out. "Ah,
 
 A HEART-STlirGGLL. 147 
 
 there needed odjv this to compel me to drain 
 my cup of bitterness to the dregs. Laura 1 
 Laura ! how little must I have appeared to 
 deserve this proof of your regard ! You are 
 unhappy; you are wretched; you fear that 
 you have unconsciously given me offence ; 
 you tell me that you can never again know 
 peace until I have forgiven you, and assured 
 you that I still love you ! Sweet, unsus- 
 picious, confiding girl ! And this letter, 
 breathing the holiest and purest affection, the 
 most undoubting faith, must remain unan- 
 swered — for what reply do I dare to make? 
 Am I not in the toils ? Heart- perjured and 
 spirit-bound ! Miserable wretch that I am, 
 how shall I ever find strength to play ray 
 ignoble part to the end? She must cease 
 to love me, for I am no longer worthy of her 
 young innocence. Dishonoured, and sold for 
 a price, what have we now in common ? No, 
 no ! that dream is over. She must marry 
 the Earl ; him, and no other : for were it an- 
 other, I feel that I should murder him ! " 
 
 The Opera party was .a very gloomy one. 
 Arthur Willoughby replaced Ferdinand Mars- 
 ton, and openly declared the thing to be a 
 bore. Laura with difiiculty repressed her
 
 148 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 tears ; Mrs. Heathcote did not even attempt 
 to conceal her annoyance ; and Miss Greville, 
 mortified to find that she had failed in giving 
 pleasure, was ill at ease, and endeavoured to 
 find amusement on the stage with very in- 
 difierent success. Had her brother been their 
 escort, how difi'erent would all have appeared 
 to her. But her feelings were bright when 
 compared with those of her friend, who sat 
 beside her cold, silent, and almost heart- 
 broken. She could no longer doubt the in- 
 difi'erence of Ferdinand ; that he had received 
 her letter she was assured, for she had seen 
 it in the girdle of Enna, and had not dared to 
 reclaim it. How she hated herself for having 
 written it ! How unwomanly and undignified 
 did she now appear in her own eyes ! How 
 he must scorn her for her bold assumption 
 of his regard, and her pertinacity in insisting 
 on its continuance ! And was it possible that, 
 after having met with so gross an insult at 
 his hands, she had still the weakness to love 
 this man ? Several hours had elapsed since he 
 must have been in possession of that wretched 
 letter, and no reply had reached her ! She 
 felt crushed and humbled to the dust. She 
 had laid bare her heart before him, and •he
 
 A HEART-STRUGGLE. 149 
 
 had trampled it beneath his feet. Poor Laura 1 
 her own aflPection was so sincere that she had 
 found it impossible, until this evening, to 
 believe that Ferdinand could be less true, less 
 earnest than herself. But now all was over; 
 and she was bitterly conscious that it was too 
 late to indulge in the hope that she could 
 forget in her turn. 
 
 The reflections of Mrs. Heathcote were, 
 meanwhile, very far from pleasant. She knew 
 not to what cause she should attribute the 
 silence of Mr. Greville-Marston ; but she, 
 nevertheless, resolved not to abandon her 
 purpose. To see her daughter a peeress Avas 
 the one dream of her existence, alike waking 
 and sleeping — a peeress, with, in all proba- 
 bility, a place at court ; for she was well 
 aware that Lord Ravenswood had sufficient 
 influence to procure this envied position for 
 his wife — to see her admitted into a circle 
 from which Lady Willoughby, despite her 
 title, was excluded. Never would she resign 
 this object of her ambition — this opportunity 
 of humbling the insolent pride of her sister. 
 
 In her own person she cared not for the 
 titles and honours which she coveted for 
 Laura. Her habits, tastes, and manners were
 
 150 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 confirmed, and she felt tint each would re- 
 quire modification, should she be transplanted 
 into a higher sphere than that to which she 
 bad been accustomed, a fact which could 
 not fail to be irksome at her age ; while the 
 youth and docility of her child would enable her 
 readily to adopt the bearing and prejudices 
 of those about her, and to do honour to the rank 
 which would enhance her wealth and beauty. 
 
 She was, as usual, plunged in these medi- 
 tations a few days subsequently to the Opera- 
 party, when a letter was put into her hands, 
 which, at the first glance, she discovered to 
 be from Ferdinand, and by which she learnt 
 the failure of her hopes. Lord Ravenswocd 
 had, as he assured her, absolutely refused to 
 entertain her proposal for an instant, and he 
 earnestly entreated her to abandon the idea 
 as mifeasible; declaring, however, at the 
 same time, that should she decide otherwise, 
 he would persevere in his attempt to second 
 her wishes, although he confessed that he did 
 not see the slightest probability of success. 
 
 This letter aroused alike the anger and 
 the indignation of Mrs. Heathcote. She had 
 no faith in Greville's professions of zeal, but 
 instantly persuaded herself that he had been
 
 A HEART-STRUGGLE. 151 
 
 lukewarm, even if not altogether supine, in 
 the cause ; for what, she mentally argued, 
 could even Lord Ravens wood, noble as he 
 was, desire in a wife that he would not find 
 in Laura? Young, beautiful, and wealthy, 
 she possessed every quality that the most 
 fastidious husband could require ; and it was 
 consequently clear, that she had entrusted 
 the interests of her dauo-hter to one who had 
 made no effort to ensure them. Like many 
 other people, who consider themselves injured 
 when their wishes and desig-ns have failed of 
 success, and who visit that failure upon those 
 to whom they have confided their cause, she 
 blindly accused Ferdinand of the overthrow 
 of her hopes, and bitterly repented the confi- 
 dence in his honour and integrity which had 
 induced her, in a moment of greater generosity 
 and high feeling, to destroy those evidences of 
 his father's guilt, which, had they still been 
 in existence, must, she thought, have made 
 him her willing slave for ever. 
 
 Her reply to the letter of her victim was 
 an earnest entreaty that he would, persevere ; 
 an assurance that men who were no longer 
 young were frequently as coy as school-girls ; 
 and a request that he would not fail to re-
 
 152 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 member that lie had pledged himself to 
 secure, by this brilliant marriage, the future 
 happiness of Laura. 
 
 Alas ! Ferdinand held in his hand another 
 letter, which only too fully convinced him that 
 the intentions of the mother were by no 
 means calculated to make the daughter happy. 
 
 At this period a mortgage, involving the 
 greater portion of the Earl's landed property, 
 was threatened with foreclosure ; and the 
 legal technicahties, his trammelled position, 
 and the uncertainty of the result of this new 
 embarrassment, at once disgusted his keen 
 sense of right, and bewildered his mind. 
 The tortuous labyrinth of chicanery, with all 
 its contentious details clothed in obsolete 
 terms, at once irritated and exhausted his 
 nerves, and his health became visibly affected. 
 In vain did his young and anxious protege re- 
 mind him that he was himself now the master 
 of thousands, and that those thousands could 
 not be better employed than in extricating 
 from his difficulties the friend to whom he 
 was indebted for more than life ; Lord 
 Ravenswood resolutely, and almost sternly, 
 repudiated the offer. 
 
 " What, sir ! " he asked, with a noble
 
 A HEART-STRUGGLE. 153 
 
 indignation, which was painful but not sur- 
 prising to Ferdinand; "can you for one 
 moment believe that I would repay my debt 
 to your father by wronging and impoverishing 
 his children ? Never repeat such a proposal, 
 or we shall henceforth be strangers to each 
 other." 
 
 "You shall be obeyed, sir;" said the 
 young man ; " but it is misery to me to see 
 you thus harassed. What is to be done ?" 
 
 " I know not;" wa^ the desponding reply ; 
 " I am worse than a child in such a strait as 
 this. Had I frank and honourable men to 
 deal with, I could struggle on ; but it is 
 evident that the most unpfenerous advanta2;e 
 is about to be taken of my helpless condition ; 
 and this conviction perfectly unhinges me. 
 If I could only discover any honourable means 
 of extricatinsj mvself from so frio-htful a 
 dilemma I would at once avail myself of it ; 
 but I see none ; and I painfully feel that a 
 proud man soon becomes degraded in his own 
 eyes w^hen his honour and his sense of personal 
 dignity are endangered." 
 
 " Why can it not be my privilege to 
 restore your peace of mind?" said his com- 
 panion sadly.
 
 154 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " I well know that you would do so with 
 all your heart, my dear Ferdinand, were it 
 possible." 
 
 *' And if you would consent to permit it, 
 my lord/' was the rejoinder. 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked the Earl 
 angrily; ''are you also about to lose your 
 respect for my orders, and to oppose me ? " 
 
 " You cannot suspect me of such an 
 intention ; " said the young man, wdth calm 
 self-assertion ; " I was* not about again to 
 offer from myself that which you have so 
 coldly rejected. You ask me what I mean? 
 How can I venture to tell you, when I may, 
 perhaps, by explaining my meaning, subject 
 myself to your anger?" 
 
 " You must think very poorly of me, 
 Ferdinand, if you conceive that I could be 
 ungrateful for your filial sympathy and in- 
 terest." 
 
 "Oh, no, Lord Ravenswood;" w^as the 
 eager rejoinder ; " that would be indeed im- 
 possible ; but it is I who should be ungrateful 
 did I not, at such an extremity as the present 
 one, find sufficient moral courage to brave 
 even your displeasure, in order to restore you 
 to peace and happiness. Yes ; be the result
 
 A HEART-STRUGGLE. 155 
 
 what it may, I must speak, — would that I 
 could only hope I might prevail ! My lord, 
 this state of thino-s cannot continue ; vour 
 ]]onour demands your prompt extrication from 
 difficulties which have been forced upon you, 
 and with which yon are unequal to contend. 
 You have no time to lose, and no liberty of 
 choice. Your only method of release, since 
 you have refused to owe your liberation to 
 me, must be at once adopted. Forgive me, 
 my friend and benefactor, forgive me ; but 
 you have no alternative save to become the 
 husband of Miss Heathcote." 
 
 "Sir?" 
 
 ''I will not be crushed by your frown, 
 Lord Ravenswood;" persisted the wretched 
 Greville firmly ; '' you, the representative of 
 one of the proudest families in England, must 
 not suffer your name to be tarnished, and 
 your honour to be suspected. What is re- 
 quired of you? Nothing unworthy — nothing 
 undignified — although you repudiated the 
 idea on a former occasion, as if such a marriage 
 would have involved disgrace. The lady is 
 beautiful and pure : she has every claim to 
 your admiration, save a proud name, which 
 no one could better bestow upon her than
 
 156 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 yourself. If I could only make you understand 
 the impossibility of knowing you without 
 loving you, every difficulty would disappear. 
 Say that you will consent — that you will save 
 yourself from ruin by an union from which 
 you need anticipate nothing but happiness. 
 Oh, if I could only prevail upon you to be 
 just to yourself in this matter — if I could 
 only " 
 
 " Enough, Ferdinand, enough. Your 
 vehemence unnerves me." 
 
 " Do you consent ?" 
 
 " Urge me no further." 
 . " But I am not yet answered. Consider 
 your position. Lord Ravenswood; and re- 
 member that I do not basely press upon you 
 a marriage where you w^ould sacrifice yourself 
 for money ; the lady is young and lovely " 
 
 " Too young, and too lovely. How could 
 I dare to hope that she had accepted me, and 
 not my coronet?" 
 
 " Ah ! you relent. You will allow me 
 to inform Mrs. Heathcote " 
 
 " I have made no promise." 
 
 " I ask none ;" gasped the wretched Gre- 
 ville ; "I shall live to see you once more 
 beyond all mere worldly anxieties, the dignity
 
 A HEART-STRUG GLE. 157 
 
 of your aucient house restored, its threatened 
 honour secured, its projected ruin averted. 
 You dare not hesitate at such a crisis. 
 Think of vour ancestral home in the hands 
 of strangers ; of the burial-vault of your fore- 
 fathers desecrated by the intrusion of ahens 
 from your race and name ; of your broad lands 
 confiscated ; of your dependants scattered and 
 abandoned. Think of all these things, and 
 then contrast them with the destiny which 
 depends only upon yourself." 
 
 Lord Ravenswood buried his face in his 
 hands, and remained motionless. 
 
 " I have conquered ! " exclaimed Ferdi- 
 nand. " You will be true to yourself, to 
 your race, and to your order. You T\ill be 
 no bankrupt peer, the object of plebeian scorn 
 and of vulgar wonder; but remain, as you 
 have ever been, an honour to your rank and 
 to your country. You must forgive my perti- 
 nacity, my more than father ; for never, never 
 will I so presume again." 
 
 The Earl opened his arms, and the excited 
 Greville fell upon his breast. Neither at- 
 tempted to utter a word; and as the clasp 
 of Lord Ravenswood slowly relaxed, Ferdi- 
 nand made his way to the door of the apart- 
 ment, and disappeared.
 
 158 A LIFE-STllUGGLE. 
 
 Bewildered, and sick at heart, he reached 
 his own room, where he sank into a seat. 
 His strength was nearly spent. The Earl 
 had tacitly consented, and Laura was lost to 
 him for ever. A strange feeling of pride 
 mingled, how^ever, with his misery ; for he 
 was conscious that it was not merely in his 
 own interest that he had acted throughout 
 the trying scene which had just passed, but 
 that he had resolutely sacrificed his happiness 
 in order to secure that of his benefactor. He 
 had that day acquitted a debt of twenty-five 
 years' duration ; for he adored Laura even 
 while he betrothed her to another. The tears 
 which he shed were nevertheless very bitter ; 
 and although he endeavoured to persuade 
 himself that he rejoiced in his success, the 
 poor young man was almost crushed beneath 
 the weight of his despair.
 
 THE CLOUD THICKENS. 159 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE CLOUD THICKENS. 
 
 Ox the following day Marston had a long 
 interview with Lord Ravenswood ; at the 
 close of which, with an unnatural calmness of 
 look and bearing that bordered on apathy, he 
 left the house. His face was very pale, but 
 not a nerve shook as he delivered his card to 
 the porter of Mrs. Heathcote, and slowly fol- 
 lowed a servant to the dra\ving-room. 
 
 '' Madam;" he said, as the door w^as closed 
 behind him, and he bowed low, as if un- 
 conscious of the hand which was extended 
 to welcome him, while he glanced rapidly 
 round the apartment in order to convince 
 himself that they were alone ; *' my mission is 
 successfully performed. I have induced Lord 
 Ravenswood to rescind his resolution, and 
 your wish will be accomplished. I have every 
 authority to inform you th.at it depends only
 
 160 A LIFE- STRUGGLE. 
 
 on yourself to see your daughter Countess of 
 Ravenswood." 
 
 " Is it really possible ? " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Heathcote exultingly. " How shall I ever 
 find words to thank you, my generous and 
 zealous friend?" 
 
 " I require no thanks, madam ; none are 
 due to me. You are sufficiently aware of one 
 of the motives which induced me to under- 
 take this negotiation ; but of that which in 
 reality induced its success you are ignorant. 
 Let it suffice that the Earl has consented to 
 become your son-in-law, and that I have re- 
 deemed my pledge. It has cost me much — 
 very much — to do so; more than you will, 
 probably, ever understand. And now, madam, 
 I trust that you will respect your own pro- 
 mise." 
 
 " Surely, Mr. Greville-Marston cannot en- 
 tertain a doubt on the subject ? " said the 
 lady loftily. 
 
 " You are right ; I ought not to suspect 
 your good faith," was the cold reply ; " and 
 we will not look back to the cause which has 
 produced so desirable a result." 
 
 '' For myself I can assure you, that I 
 have already entirely forgotten it;" said Mrs.
 
 THE CLOUD THICKENS. 161 
 
 Heathcote ; " and I entreat of you to believe 
 that no guest will be more welcome in my 
 house than the friend who has made me the 
 happiest of mothers." 
 
 " I am less fortunate ; " sighed Ferdinand ; 
 " for I live only to remember. In a day 
 or two, however, madam, the debt shall be 
 paid." 
 
 " The debt, Mr. GrevHle-Marston ? What 
 debt?" 
 
 " My father's debt ; for which, by allow- 
 ing the papers to be destroyed, I rendered 
 myself voluntarily answerable." 
 
 " You owe me nothing, sir; it is I, on 
 the contrary, who have contracted an obliga- 
 tion towards you, which I shall never be able 
 to repay." 
 
 " Do not mock me, madam ; I do not put 
 my feehngs and my principles out to usury. 
 I was not earning my release from an Israel- 
 itish bondage when I became an agent in 
 your scheme ; I was actuated by a higher and 
 a holier impulse;" said Ferdinand proudly; 
 " and I again repeat, that in a few days the 
 debt will be liquidated." 
 
 " I shall refuse to receive money which I 
 cannot legally prove to be owing to me." 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " You will not do so" — was the firm re- 
 joinder. 
 
 " And who can compel me to accept it? " 
 asked Mrs. Heathcote angrily. 
 
 " You will accept it, because in any other 
 case I shall have a right to complain of your 
 want of delicacy towards me ; and I do not 
 think that, under existing circumstances, we 
 can afford to become enemies." 
 
 " I will, then, since you insist upon it, 
 receive the money as a deposit, which you 
 may reclaim at any moment. 
 
 " As you please, so that my father's obli- 
 gation is cancelled ; I have no wish to cavil 
 about the name in which you admit its ac- 
 quittal. All that I care to know and feel is, 
 that no member of my family has permanently 
 wronged or injured one of yours." 
 
 " Really, Mr. Marston ;" said Mrs. Heath- 
 cote, endeavouring to veil a considerable 
 amount of irritation under an assumed suavity 
 of manner ; " I am quite disappointed in you. 
 I had hoped that the — the uncomfortable 
 scene in my boudoir once over, we should 
 have been faster friends than ever. You know 
 that money is no object to me; and I did 
 think "
 
 THE CLOUD THICKENS. 163 
 
 "What did you think, madam?" de- 
 manded Ferdinand, with a haughty abrupt- 
 ness which made his companion bound in her 
 seat. '' You are perhaps aware, that by a 
 strange circumstance I am as independent of 
 pecuniary considerations as yourself. I am 
 not for a moment comparing our financial re- 
 sources ; far from it ; I have no desire to 
 assume so much, although by a singular fa- 
 tality I am more than indijfferent to such a 
 consideration as that before us : but believe 
 me, that had it been otherwise, I would rather 
 have toiled as a mechanic than that money 
 should have remained unpaid." 
 
 " You do not treat me generously, Mr. 
 Marston." 
 
 " I treat you justly, madam. You did me 
 a service which I am ready to acknowledge, 
 and I have endeavoured to requite the debt. 
 I did not pay you for destroying the evidences 
 of my family dishonom-, nor will I be paid 
 for placing a coronet on the brow of Miss 
 Heathcote." 
 
 " I shall in any case, as I have already 
 said, consider the sum forced upon me only 
 as a loan;" persisted the lady. 
 
 " Consider it in any light you please, pro-
 
 164 A LTEE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 vided that the debt is liquidated/' said Ferdi- 
 nand coldly; and with a low bow he left 
 the room. 
 
 "Ah!" murmured the wretched young 
 man to himself, as with bowed head and un- 
 strung nerves he proceeded on his homeward 
 path ; " we are told that the Athenian senate 
 condemned to death a youth who had merci- 
 lessly killed a dove which took refuge in his 
 bosom from the pursuit of a hawk. What 
 destiny would they have assigned to a heartless 
 and ambitious woman, who could coldly sacri- 
 fice, in the indulgence of her own mean pas- 
 sions, a daughter to unhappiness and a fellow- 
 creature to despair?" 
 
 This heart-struggle of the day was not 
 yet, however, at an end. As he entered the 
 drawing-room, in which at this hour he ex- 
 pected to find his sister, to whom he was 
 anxious at once to confide the fact of what he 
 had determined to call her self-deception as 
 regarded him, and the coming betrothal of her 
 friend to the Earl, he found, to his surprise 
 and discomfiture. Lord Ravenswood quietly 
 seated, awaiting his return. 
 
 " I guess the errand on which you left the 
 house, my dear boy ;" he said, as he extended
 
 THE CLOUD THICKENS. 165 
 
 his hand ; " and from what you told me this 
 morning, I cannot doubt the result of your 
 visit. But, Ferdinand, we must come to a 
 perfect understanding upon the subject. I am 
 far from feeling satisfied with myself. I yielded 
 too readily to your arguments, and I cannot 
 tell you what I have sufi'ered during yoiu: 
 absence. My sense of dignity is wounded, 
 and I am discontented with myself. Nothing, 
 not even the painful position in which I am 
 placed, can altogether reconcile me to the con- 
 cession I have made. I feel that my prin- 
 ciples have capitulated, and the thought 
 humbles me in my own eyes. Xow hear me, 
 Ferdinand ; I positively insist that nothing 
 further shall be done until I have thoroughly 
 convinced myself that Miss Heathcote has no 
 other attachment, and that our disparity in 
 age does not render her averse to a marriage 
 with me. That she, if unbiassed by the coun- 
 sels of others, would become my wife simply 
 from vanity, and the idle w^sh to bear a title, 
 I cannot believe, as it would be incompatible 
 with her guileless and enthusiastic character." 
 Alas for the fallibihty of human nature ! 
 What the Earl had at first considered as an 
 idea too monstrous and absurd to be enter-
 
 166 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 tained for an instant, had already lost mucli 
 of its ridicule in his eyes. He began to think 
 that it might not be impossible for the yomig 
 and blooming Laura to love him — the case 
 would be by no means a solitary one; and 
 also to forget that in the world such a mar- 
 riage would excite the same amount of ridi- 
 cule from which he had previously shrunk. 
 Strange, too, that after having desired to see 
 her the wife of his ward he should be able 
 to reconcile himself to the project of making 
 her his own ! Herein, however, we must do 
 him justice. The earnestness and pertinacity 
 of Ferdinand to accomplish his guardian's 
 union with Miss Heathcote had convinced him 
 that Greville was still heart-whole ; while, as he 
 involuntarily argued with himself, he might 
 have been as much mistaken with regard to 
 the state of the young lady's affections as he 
 evidently was in those of her presumed lover. 
 "At any rate," he had mused; "I shall 
 not probably live very long, and at my death 
 she will be in the bloom of her life and beauty, 
 a widow with the rank of a Countess, and a 
 noble fortune. Thus, even should she one 
 day regret that she had bestowed her hand on 
 a man more than double her own age, the
 
 THE CLOUD THICKENS. 167 
 
 sacrifice would be but a temporary one, as she 
 would soon have an opportunity of repairing 
 her error, and of making a second choice 
 better suited to her years ; and, meanwhile, I 
 would be to her a loving father, a zealous 
 protector, a tender and unfailing friend. 
 Should she therefore voluntarily consent to 
 become my wife upon these terms, surely it 
 cannot be base or unmanly in me to save the 
 honour of my family by a step to which I am 
 urged by her own mother. But I must not 
 be expected to play the love-sick suitor; I 
 should loathe myself were I to be guilty of 
 such egregious folly — vows of passion would 
 be mocked by mv ojrev hairs, and I should 
 deserve to become the lauo'hino'-stock of all 
 my acquaintances. I am a man of the world, 
 and it is only as a man of the world that- she 
 must expect me to woo and w4n her. Ferdi- 
 nand must arrange all the preliminaries of the 
 marriage with Mrs. Heathcote." 
 
 Long ere Marston's reappearance, how- 
 ever, his original misgivings had returned, 
 and he once more began to reproach himself 
 for his selfishness and want of self-respect. 
 The shallow sophistries by which he had 
 sought to justify his conduct to himself would
 
 168 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 not endure the test of his better reason, and 
 the card-castle which he had so laboriously 
 built up fell in ruins about him. 
 
 Thus he eagerly seized the only possible 
 pretext for withdrawing his pledge by making 
 the marriage dependent on the pleasure of 
 Laura herself; and as Ferdinand briefly ex- 
 pressed his readiness to undertake this new 
 mission, he added : — 
 
 " During your absence I have been en- 
 deavouring, somewhat unsuccessfully I am 
 bound to admit, to persuade myself that I may 
 have been fortunate enough to win her regard ; 
 but as this is extremely doubtful, I will not, I 
 repeat, accept her hand until I am assured 
 of the fact." 
 
 " But you are now committed ; " was the 
 deprecatory rejoinder of Marston. 
 
 " Most certainly not, should Miss Heath- 
 cote exhibit the shghtest reluctance to ratify 
 her mother's assurance;" was the calm re- 
 joinder of the Earl ; " and I find it difficult to 
 forgive myself for the weakness of which I have 
 been guilty. What right have I to sacrifice 
 that sweet, inexperienced girl to my sordid 
 necessities ? But tell me what has happened, 
 Ferdinand. You look agitated."
 
 THE CLOUD THICKENS. 
 
 165 
 
 " I am SO ; your solicitor has just been 
 here, and I ventured to deny you." 
 
 " What could you fear in any case ? Am 
 I not a peer of the realm ? " 
 
 " I feared nothing for your personal safety ; 
 that was secure : yet there are other evils, 
 which it is well to ward off as long as pos- 
 sible. Proceedings were about to commence 
 against you, which, without your sanction 
 or concurrence, I have taken the liberty of 
 stopping for two months." 
 
 "And how?" 
 
 '* That I will explain when you have more 
 tune and leisure to enter into such particulars." 
 
 "Two months 1" murmured the Earl 
 bitterly ; " I can do no more to reheve 
 myself from this difficulty in two months 
 than in two days. Which way am I to 
 turn?" 
 
 "You have but one;" was the steady 
 reply. 
 
 " I fear so," said Lord Ravenswood 
 moodily. " I feel that the die is cast ; and 
 yet, Ferdinand ; " he pursued, as his voice grew 
 husky and tremulous ; " you have assured 
 me, upon your honour, that the first ad- 
 vances towards this ill-assorted marriage
 
 170 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 were made by the motlier of the youug 
 lady?" 
 
 " I did do so ; and I solemnly repeat that 
 assurance/' 
 
 " Then I cannot afford to hesitate any 
 longer. Let all be arranged as quietly and 
 as speedily as possible. Do not allow me to 
 become the theme of gossiping tongues be- 
 fore Miss Heathcote is my wife. And woe 
 be to them who jest upon the subject after 
 she is so 1 I am not yet old enough to forget 
 that I can protect my honour. I say this, 
 in the event of her entire and willing con- 
 currence in her mother's wishes ; but remem- 
 ber, I will become her husband upon no other 
 terms. I prefer the ruin which is impending 
 over me." 
 
 " Believe me, my dear lord, that you 
 have no such result to apprehend." 
 
 " Go then, Ferdinand ; and, without the 
 slightest reservation, explain to Mrs. Heath- 
 cote the precise nature of my present position. 
 Hide nothing from her. I will not owe the 
 hand of her daughter to a sordid lie. Do 
 not forget, moreover, that I insist upon the 
 free and full consent of Laura herself ; with- 
 out which I would rather become an exile
 
 THE CLOUD THICKENS. 171 
 
 from my country, and find a grave in a fo- 
 reign land, than lead her to the altar only that 
 she may fear and despise me. Leave me 
 now, Ferdinand. You know my wishes, and 
 you will respect them." 
 
 Marston bowed, and left the room.
 
 172 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 LOVE AND AMBITION. 
 
 Life is, after all, a melanclioly problem, which 
 the wisest among us are unable to solve. 
 Royalty, " born beneath the purple," occa- 
 sionally ends its career in an obscure corner 
 of the earth, and owes the quiet of its very 
 tomb to a simple individual, who had never 
 dreamed of such a privilege. The infant, cradled 
 on down, and draped in silks and laces, not 
 unfrequently treads the world's paths in age 
 clothed in rags, and sinks at last into a pauper's 
 grave. While, on the other hand, the humbly- 
 nurtured and the utterly obscure, gifted by 
 nature with genius, or by fortune with extra- 
 ordinary luck, rise into eminence, crush down 
 by their wealth and their successes those who 
 would have scorned them in their poverty, 
 earn titles and honours, and are finally fol-
 
 LOVE AND AMBITION. 173 
 
 lowed to their last resting-place by the noble 
 and the proud. 
 
 But, perhaps, amid the multitudinous 
 trials of the world, none is greater than that 
 of the patrician, dragged from his eminence 
 by the iron chain which links him to the 
 sordid necessities of existence; the tram- 
 melled man of rank, w^ho, through his own 
 reckless improvidence or that of others, finds 
 his coronet and his ermine unequal to pre- 
 serve him from the petty cares from which 
 his birthright would have seemed competent 
 to secure him; and this was precisely the 
 position of Lord Ravenswood — a position 
 which, despite all his admirable qualities of 
 mind and heart, he had not the moral courage 
 to meet with resignation and self-confidence. 
 Had he possessed a friend similarly situated 
 with himself, who had exhibited the same 
 weakness and instability of purpose of which 
 he was about to be guilty, he would have 
 scorned him from his very soul; and yet, 
 such is the sophistry of human nature, that 
 he gradually began, not only to excuse, but 
 even to applaud himself for having arrived at 
 a determination which he had originally 
 spurned. He would not incur the ridicule 
 of becoming a boy-lover; and w^hat more
 
 174 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 could his sense of dignity require? Ferdi- 
 nand was right : it was his duty to screen 
 his family name from shame and obloquy ; to 
 repair and consolidate the foundations of his 
 house ; to expiate the errors of the father by 
 the prudence of the son ; and perhaps to be 
 enabled to bequeath to a nephew, to whom 
 he was warmly attached, something beyond a 
 mere bankrupt-peerage. 
 
 There does not, perchance, exist one man 
 or w^oman of the world, who would not be 
 ready to declare that he was perfectly wise 
 and thoroughly rational in the course which 
 he was about to pursue ; for the world is a 
 mammon-worshipper, and in such cases as 
 that of the Earl holds that " the end justifies 
 the means;" but there was, nevertheless, 
 only too much reason to fear that the well- 
 poised mind and delicate feelings of Lord 
 llavenswood w^ould, at some later day, lead 
 him to a very different conclusion. 
 
 The Rubicon was passed, however : il avait 
 hnde ses vaisseauWy and there was no retreat. 
 Marston had departed on his mission ; and 
 should Mrs. Heathcote not shrink before the 
 tale of ruin which he was authorised to confide 
 to her, his fate was decided. 
 
 Perhaps Marston himself had some latent
 
 LOVE AND AMBITION. 175 
 
 hope that she \YOuld do so, but ere the thought 
 was fully formed he absolutely hated himself 
 for his ingratitude towards his life-long bene- 
 factor. No, no ; it was better that the suit 
 of the Earl (if, indeed, it could so be called) 
 should prosper ; that his best friend should 
 be relieved from all future care and anxiety ; 
 and that he should bear the burthen of 
 wretchedness in his own person. Enna, too, 
 might now be happy ; the barrier which 
 separated her destiny from that of Carlyon 
 was overthrown ; and he must live for others, 
 even although he no longer valued hfe for his 
 own sake. 
 
 Under the excitement and danger of the 
 moment thus argued the Earl ; and under 
 the excitement and despair of the moment 
 thus argued Ferdinand ; and neither, at this 
 particular crisis, permitted himself to re- 
 member that there were probably long years 
 before him in which he might bitterly expiate 
 his error. 
 
 Marston had, as already stated, departed 
 on his mission, and before he made a formal 
 offer of the Earl's hand to the ambitious 
 mother, he communicated to her, without the 
 slightest reservation, the pecuniary embarrass-
 
 176 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 merits of Lord Ptavenswood ; these, however, 
 Mrs. Heathcote treated so lightly that the 
 negotiation was soon terminated. 
 
 " You are aware, my dear sir ; " she said, 
 with an exultation which she did not even 
 attempt to disguise ; " that from the moment 
 of her marriage Laura will come into pos- 
 session of twelve thousand a-year under the 
 Will of her father ; and now you must permit 
 me to add, that it is by no means my intention 
 that her income should be trammelled by the 
 circumstances which you have just detailed to 
 me. My own jointure is infinitely too large 
 for my necessities, and I have consequently a 
 considerable accumulation of money at my 
 banker's, as well as elsewhere. Poor Mr. 
 Heathcote died when Laura was a mere child ; 
 and where thousands are economised yearly 
 for such a length of time, the result is 
 naturally an important one ; while, although I 
 cannot, of course, undertake to liberate the 
 Earl from all his encumbrances, I will at least 
 pledge myself to settle this mortgage afiair, as 
 it is essential that Lord and Lady Ravens wood 
 should at once regain possession of their an- 
 cestral home. Ravenswood Castle must there- 
 fore be rescued from the harpies who have a
 
 LOVE AND AMBITION. 177 
 
 lien on it, and the necessary funds shall be 
 forthcoming whenever they may be required. 
 The revenues of the estate must also be con- 
 siderable, so that there is every reason to 
 anticipate that some time hence my noble son- 
 in-law will be reinvested in all his forfeited 
 rights." 
 
 As the brow of the lady flushed, and her 
 eye sparkled with excitement, her tortured 
 listener became paler and more agitated every 
 moment ; he felt as the wretched mariner 
 must feel when the friendly plank to which he 
 has long clung for support is gliding from his 
 hold : still, for Ferdinand, it had not yet c^uite 
 drifted beyond his grasp, and with as steady a 
 voice as he could command he replied : — 
 
 " I will communicate your generous in- 
 tentions to his lordship, madam ; and now I 
 have only to acquaint you with one condition, 
 on which he has desired me to declare that 
 he positively insists before he will personally 
 claim the hand of your daughter." 
 
 " A condition, Mr. Greville-Marston !" ex- 
 clamed Mrs. Heathcote, as the bloom deserted 
 her cheek, and she moved uneasily upon her 
 seat. " May I ask the nature of the condition 
 vrhich is to be so imperatively enforced ? " 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 "Oh, fear nothing, madam;'' said Ferdi- 
 nand bitterly ; "to so devoted a mother as 
 yourself, and one who is prepared to make 
 such colossal sacrifices to insure the happiness 
 of her only child, it will be by no means diffi- 
 cult to concede. Lord Ravenswood simply 
 requires to be convinced that Laura — that Miss 
 Heathcote — willingly, aye, more than will- 
 ingly — that she cheerfully accepts his hand, 
 before he will consent to make her his wife." 
 
 " Nay, if that be all ;'' replied the lady, with 
 a laugh that was slightly hysterical ; " you 
 have merely been endeavouring to alarm me 
 with a new version of the mountain and the 
 mouse. Laura has never had another will or 
 another wish than mine ; we have no secrets 
 from each other ; and when I tell her that my 
 happiness depends upon this marriage, she 
 will at once perceive that it must be the most 
 desirable event in the world to secure her 
 own." 
 
 " In that case," said Marston, as he rose 
 to take his leave ; " Miss Heathcote will pro- 
 bably consent to afford the Earl this assurance 
 from her own lips ? " 
 
 "Most certainly, whenever he may wish 
 to receive it. It would be well, however, that
 
 LOVE AND AMBITION. 179 
 
 he should not see her to-day, as young ladies 
 are always more or less agitated when marriage 
 is for the first time proposed to them; and 
 Laura is so very young." 
 
 "She is very young" — interposed Ferdi- 
 nand emphatically. 
 
 " Still ;" pursued Mrs. Heathcote, affecting 
 not to regard the apostrophe ; " girls become 
 vfomen so rapidly that she has already attained 
 an age at which she is quite capable of judg- 
 ing for herself, as well as of performing all the 
 hio^hest and holiest duties of her sex. Were it 
 otherwise, I trust you know me quite well 
 enough to feel convinced that I would not con- 
 sent to her contracting any marriage whatever." 
 
 "I am then to understand, am I not;" 
 asked Marston, once more clutching at the 
 moral plank which had been rapidly drifting 
 from him ; " that Miss Heathcote will be left 
 entirely free to exercise her own discretion?" 
 
 " Most undoubtedly. Why should you 
 imagine otherwise?" 
 
 "Beheve me when I assure you that I 
 have not presumed to form any theory upon 
 the subject; " said Ferdinand ; " although I was 
 anxious to acquire the certainty that Lord 
 Ravenswood, should he be happy enough to
 
 180 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 make her his wife, would win no unwilHng 
 bride." 
 
 " I cannot understand your pertinacity on 
 this point, Mr. Marston ;" was the rejoinder of 
 Mrs. Heathcote, as she bit her hps to conceal 
 her annoyance. 
 
 " You forget," said her visitor with a con- 
 strained smile ; " that I was especially desired 
 to receive the assurance for which I have 
 asked by the Earl himself." 
 
 " True ; and your diplomacy has not been 
 at fault. However, we now perfectly under- 
 stand each other, and may quietly entrust all 
 further preliminaries to the lawyers. I am 
 deeply indebted to you, my young friend, and 
 so is Laura, as I feel sure she will ere long 
 confess." 
 
 " In that case, madam, I will leave you to 
 communicate to your daughter the purport of 
 my visit ; which may, I ardently trust, tend to 
 secure her happiness, whether she accept or 
 reject the proposal of my noble friend." 
 
 "She will, I am sure, be grateful for your 
 good wishes, Mr. Marston ; " said the lady, 
 rising in her turn ; " and I will not lose a 
 moment in informing her of the very kind 
 interest which you feel in her welfare. Is her
 
 LOVE AND AMBITION. 181 
 
 friend Enna aware of what is about to take 
 place?" 
 
 " I cannot say ; I have not spoken to her 
 upon the subject." 
 
 '' In that case," said Mrs. Heathcote, ex- 
 tending her hand ; " I hope that we have a 
 pleasant surprise in store for her." 
 
 Ferdinand bowed and was gone, but the 
 hall-door had scarcely closed upon him when 
 Laura bounded into the room. 
 
 " My maid told me that Mr. Marston was 
 here, mamma ; " she said breathlessly, as her 
 eyes wandered rapidly about her ; " was she 
 mistaken ?" 
 
 "She was not, my dear girl ; he has only 
 this instant left me. But sit down, Laura, I 
 have much to say to you." 
 
 " To me! about Mr. Marston?" 
 
 " Certainly, Mr. Marston is concerned in 
 w^hat I am about to confide to you ; " replied 
 her mother with a smile ; " but I am going to 
 speak principally about yourself." 
 
 Laura obediently took her place upon the 
 sofa with a fluttering heart. Had Ferdinand 
 spoken at last ? And was she now about to 
 understand the meaning of his late incompre- 
 hensible conduct ? It must be so ; and with
 
 182 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 the glad confidence of youth she nestled her 
 head upon her mother's bosom, and prepared 
 4o listen. 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs. Heathcote had fully decided 
 on the course which she should pursue. She 
 was aware that her child loved her tenderly and 
 devotedly, but she also knew that she feared 
 her in an equal degree ; while she was totally 
 ignorant that for many months past Laura had 
 become conscious that she was no longer a child, 
 Bud that the fond but calm affection which she 
 bore to her parent had somewhat paled before 
 a passion as intense as it was absorbing. 
 
 That she should ever be opposed in her 
 wishes had scarcely entered the mind of the 
 ambitious mother as possible ; wdiile upon one 
 point she was decided, be the difHculties what 
 they might ; and this was, that willingly or 
 unwillingly, Laura should wear the coronet of 
 a Countess. Lord Ravenswood was high 
 born, high bred, in favour at court, and 
 popular in the fashionable world, as no court- 
 favourite can fail to be. What could any 
 girl desire more ? The incompatibility of 
 age was certainly a slight drawback, and in 
 touching upon that fact Mrs. Heathcote felt 
 that she must be extremely cautious ; but she
 
 LOVE AND AMBITION. 183 
 
 had such perfect faith in her own tact, and 
 in her knowledge of her daughter's character, 
 that this shght obstacle was rather exciting 
 than otherwise. 
 
 "Well, dearest mother?-" murmured the 
 anxious girl, after the silence of a few seconds. 
 
 "Laura;" commenced Mrs. Heathcote, as 
 she pressed her lips to the forehead of her 
 daughter ; " up to this very hour you have 
 been the one thought and the one care of my 
 existence. I have not opened my heart to 
 another being upon earth, and you have given 
 me reason to feel proud that I am your mo- 
 ther ; but, however great may be the happi- 
 ness I experience in seeing you constantly 
 beside me, and in surrounding you with proofs 
 of my love and my anxiety for your welfare, 
 I can still, for your sake, compel myself to 
 consent to our separation " 
 
 "Our separation, mamma ! What can 
 you mean? Why should we be separated?" 
 
 " Calm yourself, my dear child ; the sepa- 
 ration to which I allude is not what you 
 seem to anticipate and to fear. There will 
 be no actual estrangement between us ; we 
 shall see each other constantly — daily, should 
 such be your desire. All that I am about to 
 concede is to share the affection which has
 
 184 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 hitherto been all my own, with another. I 
 have promised the hand of my Laura to one 
 who is in all respects worthy of her." 
 
 ''My hand, mamma!" exclaimed her 
 daughter, as a deep and burning blush suf- 
 fused her cheeks and brow ; " and to whom?" 
 
 "Listen to me attentively, Laura;" par- 
 sued Mrs. Heathcote, disregarding her emotion. 
 " As regards fortune, I might have aspired 
 for you to the most wealthy alliances in the 
 land, but this I did not consider either neces- 
 sary or desirable. You will be rich enough 
 through your father and myself to be inde- 
 pendent of all such considerations ; but what 
 I have desired for you has been a proud name, 
 exalted rank, and a commanding title ; and I 
 have reason to believe that I have succeeded. 
 At your age, and living as you have hitherto 
 done in comparative seclusion, you cannot 
 understand how greatly such advantages as 
 these enhance the merits of every woman in 
 the eyes of the world, but you will one day 
 comprehend it. I know that your heart is 
 free, and I rejoice to know it; for you may 
 believe me when I tell you that what are 
 vulgarly called * love-matches,' very rarely 
 result in happiness to either party." 
 
 " But, mamma ; " gasped out Laura ; " how
 
 LOVE AND AMBITTOX. 185 
 
 would it be possible to marry a man whom 
 one did not love ? A woman must be base, 
 indeed, to go to the altar with vows upon her 
 lips to which her heart made no response ! 
 As for myself, I am convinced that were I to 
 try such an experiment, my indifference would 
 soon grow into hatred/' 
 
 " Not, my dear child ; " said Mrs. Heath- 
 cote, calmly and firmly; "when you found 
 that the husband who had been chosen for 
 you was full of high and noble qualities ; not 
 when you reflected that you had done your 
 duty as a loving and obedient daughter, 
 anxious to prove to her doting mother that 
 she could sacrifice a fantastic caprice to her 
 better judgment ; and that you had more 
 faith in her good sense and knowledge of the 
 world than in the love of the circulating 
 libraries. In such a case the indifference 
 (supposing it really to exist) would, as a 
 natural consequence, be converted into respect 
 and regard." 
 
 " No doubt you are right, mamma ; " was 
 the rejoinder; for Laura was unwilling to 
 protract an argument which prevented her 
 from ascertaining, without further delay, the 
 name of the individual for whom she was 
 destined.
 
 186 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 "You will shortly appear in circles alto- 
 gether novel to you, my darling;" continued 
 Mrs. Heathcote; "but you are young, and 
 will find no difficulty in accustoming yourself 
 to the exigences of your new position. Lovely, 
 rich, and noble, you will have nothing to 
 desire, and all ray wishes will be accom- 
 plished." 
 
 " You terrify me, mamma " 
 
 " Terrify you, simpleton ! Why should 
 you be terrified by such an assurance as 
 this?" 
 
 "Because — because — but don't keep me 
 any longer in suspense. Indeed, indeed, I 
 cannot bear it 1" 
 
 " Well, then, my own sweet child, you are 
 about to become a peeress !" 
 
 "A peeress!" echoed the excited girl; 
 "Has he — has — tell me the name of the 
 husband to whom you would unite me?" 
 and, for a moment, a wild hope flashed over 
 the heart of Laura that Ferdinand had suc- 
 ceeded to a title. 
 
 " I will, pretty one ! and I do so with 
 pride and delight. It is the Earl of Ravens- 
 wood!" 
 
 There was no reply ; the colour fled from 
 the cheeks and lips of Miss Heathcote ; her
 
 LOVE AND AMBITION. 187 
 
 eyelids drooped ; and before her mother could 
 prevent it, she fell senseless to the floor ! 
 
 "Help! help!" screamed the wretched 
 woman, rushing to the bell, which she rang 
 furiously. " My child ! my darling is dying ! " 
 
 Help was at hand; the inanimate form was 
 lifted and borne to a sofa, restoratives were 
 applied, and ere long consciousness returned ; 
 heavy tears coursed each other down the pallid 
 cheeks, heavy sighs convulsed the labouring 
 bosom, and convulsive shudderings shook the 
 graceful limbs of the unhappy girl. 
 
 This first trial would have sufficed to dis- 
 courage any spirit less determined than that 
 of Mrs. Heathcote. That she devotedly loved 
 her daughter is most certain ; but there was 
 in her bosom a less holy feeling, which warred 
 even against that deep and enduring love — 
 the desire of vengeance upon her ungenerous 
 and detested sister ; and, consequently, the 
 short-si^fhted victim of her own vanitv and 
 revenge v/ould not see in the sufferings of her 
 child anything beyond a mere fainting-fit, 
 induced by the shock of a surprise which 
 would, beyond all doubt, have been equally 
 sreat had the name of Lord Ravens wood never 
 been uttered. Satisfied that Laura had formed
 
 188 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 no other attachment, and that the idea of a 
 separation from herself, coupled with a sense 
 of terror at the new duties which must so 
 suddenly devolve upon her when elevated to 
 so high a rank, were sufficiently powerful to 
 produce the painful scene through which she 
 had just passed, she soothed and caressed her 
 as she would have done a petted babe ; but 
 she did not for a moment encourage her to 
 confidence, or dream of foregoing her purpose.
 
 DESPAIR. 189 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 DESPAIR. 
 
 It is extremely probable that, even had Mrs. 
 Heathcote suspected the cause of the violent 
 emotion exhibited by her daughter, she would 
 have been equally firm ; for Ferdinand was 
 not only unable by his social position to carry 
 out the darling project which she had at 
 heart for Laura, but, untitled as he was, she 
 could not through his means humble the ar- 
 rogance and excite the envy of Lady Wil- 
 loughby. While, moreover, the recollection 
 of the forged papers, despite all the assu- 
 rances which she had given him to the con- 
 trary, was ever present to her mind. Her 
 moral nature w^as not sufficiently elevated to 
 enable her to feel that crime is not an here- 
 ditary disease ; but even as Laura had inhe- 
 rited the wealth of her father, so did she al-
 
 190 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 most persuade herself that Perdinand must 
 have succeeded to the sin of his. 
 
 There is more moral insanity in the world 
 than we poor human beings are willing to admit. 
 
 Determined as she was, however, Mrs. 
 Heathcote had been considerably discom- 
 fited by the sudden indisposition of her 
 daughter; which, as the poor girl made no 
 effort to rally, but rather yielded to its pro- 
 strating effects, in order that she might, in 
 the solitude of her own chamber, indulge un- 
 chidden in her sorrow^ confined her to her bed 
 for many days ; and it was not, consequently, 
 before the lapse of a fortnight, that the per- 
 tinacious and self-deceiving mother ventured 
 to recur to the subject. 
 
 Laura had, for the first time, descended 
 to the drawing-room, where, pale, and crushed, 
 and silent, she lay stretched upon a sofa : 
 when, summoning all her courage to her aid, 
 Mrs. Heathcote looked up with a smile from 
 the book upon which she had affected to be 
 engaged, and said soothingly : — 
 
 " I am so rejoiced to see you beside me 
 again, my own Laura. I have missed you 
 sadly since you have been an invahd ; but I 
 trust that we shall have no recurrence of such
 
 DESPAIR. 191 
 
 a misfortune. I should have thought, my 
 child, that you had stronger nerves ; for, after 
 all, the prospect of a coronet is not so very 
 terrible; while, on the other hand, it need 
 not have caused so much surprise, for with 
 your beauty and your fortune " 
 
 " I never thought once upon the subject, 
 mamma;" murmured the dejected girl, who 
 had, during her hours of seclusion, resolved 
 that whenever her mother should again men- 
 tion her ill-omened marriage she would con- 
 trol her feelings, and hear her to an end, 
 before she definitively and absolutely refused 
 to accede to it. 
 
 " Then it was a mere glrKsh weakness, 
 my darling, was it not?" asked her m.other, 
 as she kissed her pale cheek. " I thought as 
 much ; for I could not bear to believe that I 
 should be disappointed in you, and that you 
 had, indeed, in point of fact, resolved to dis- 
 appoint us all. I am so glad to be unde- 
 ceived, and to have it in my power to unde- 
 ceive Mr. Greville-Marston, who has only 
 this moment left the house." 
 
 " What brought him here, mamma?" 
 demanded Laura, suddenly rousing herself 
 into interest.
 
 192 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " He came, my love, in the first place, to 
 inquire after your health; and in the next, 
 to ask a decided answer to the proposals of 
 the Earl." 
 
 " Mr Greville-Marston did you say, 
 mamma?" 
 
 " Yes, my child. Lord Ravenswood's young 
 friend, who has been most anxious for the 
 success of his guardian's suit ; and by whom 
 I cannot doubt for a moment that he was 
 first induced to seek your hand." 
 
 " Mr. Greville-Marston ! " repeated her 
 daughter, in an accent of incredulity and 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Himself, dearest ! He has, as I said, 
 only this moment left me. I am sorry that 
 he was so pressed for time, as I should have 
 been glad to convince you how zealous he has 
 been in our cause, and how deeply indebted 
 we must ever feel for his devotion to our in- 
 terests. He is really a very superior- young 
 man, and well worthy alike of the affection of 
 the Earl and the devoted attachment of his 
 sister." 
 
 " And he is really anxious for this mar- 
 riage, mamma? And you think that he in- 
 duced Lord Ravenswood to propose it?"
 
 DESPAIR. 193 
 
 " I know it, Laura ; and it proves at once 
 his judgment and his kind feeling. There 
 are circumstances which will render an union 
 with you highly desirable for our noble friend ; 
 while as regards ourselves " 
 
 "Say not a word more, mother : I will 
 obey you. I will marry Lord Ravenswood — '^ 
 faltered out the heart-stricken girl, as a gush 
 of large cold tears fell heavily upon her bosom. 
 
 " Of course you will, my own one;" was 
 the unsympathetic rejoinder. " No woman 
 in her senses could refuse so eligible an esta- 
 blishment; and so far from regretting that 
 the Earl is not a wealthier man, I am rejoiced 
 that my daughter will have it in her power to 
 meet him on equal ground. I do not wonder 
 that you weep, Laura; it is natural and 
 womanly that you should do so, and I love 
 you the better for the delicacy of your feel- 
 ings. Kiss me, my darling; you have made 
 me very, very happy; while I am proudly 
 conscious that in my happiness I have secured 
 your own." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; " murmured her victim, whose 
 heavy sobs rendered her voice almost inar- 
 ticulate. " No doubt — no doubt — I shall 
 also be very, very happy." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 A LIFE-STKUGGLE. 
 
 "Wayward girl!" said Mrs. Heathcote, 
 as she passed her hand exultingly over the 
 luxuriant masses of her daughter's magnificent 
 hair ; " who ever saw worldly prosperity wel- 
 comed so moodily? There will be no tears 
 in those bright eyes, Laura ; no gloom upon 
 that fair young brow, when it is encircled by 
 a coronet. No, no, my lovely Countess, we 
 shall be all smiles then ; and my Lady Wil- 
 loughby will learn that others, greater and 
 more noble than herself, can bend their 
 stubborn necks before the daughter of her 
 sister's husband !" 
 
 Laura only buried her face in her cushions, 
 and wept. 
 
 " You must really rouse yourself, my dear 
 child ; " pursued her mother ; " for the Earl, 
 weary of waiting so long for your reply, and 
 uneasy at the unfavourable reports which he 
 has daily heard of your health, has urgently 
 solicited an interview with you ; and I have 
 pledged myself to Mr. Marston that you 
 would receive him in the course of the day." 
 
 "To-day, mamma? Oh! surely not to- 
 
 " And why ? AVhen the first interview is 
 once over you will be quite yourself again."
 
 DESPAIR. 195 
 
 " And did you tell Mr. Marston that I 
 would see him to-day?" 
 
 " Really, Laura, you are incomprehen- 
 sible ! Mr. Marston merely came to urge me 
 to effect a meeting between yourself and Lord 
 Ravenswood. He said that it would be de- 
 sirable for it to take place at once, and I per- 
 fectly agreed with him. On occasions of this 
 kind " 
 
 " You are right, mamma, quite right ; 
 and so is Mr. Marston. I am better now, 
 much better; but my illness has unnerved 
 me. I am perfectly ready to receive Lord 
 Ravenswood." 
 
 " That's a dear girl ! but endeavour, like 
 a darling, to look a little less scared and lan- 
 guid. I scarcely know my brilliant Laura 
 with those dim eyes and those pallid cheeks." 
 
 " I shall be better presently, mamma, 
 when — when all is over." 
 
 " Try to compose yourself, silly one ;" said 
 her mother ; " and now I will leave you to 
 rest for an hour, for so much talking exhausts 
 
 you." 
 
 " Ferdinand ! Ferdinand ! " gasped out tlie 
 poor girl, when she once more found herself 
 alone ; '' can this indeed be true ? Have vou
 
 196 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 coldly flung me into the arms of another, 
 after all your professions of attachment — all 
 your demonstrations of regard? Why did 
 you tell me that you loved me, only to make 
 me the victim of your vanity and the dupe of 
 your falsehood ? Did I deserve this at your 
 hands? I, who believed that earth did not 
 hold a being so perfect as yourself 1 And 
 why, not content with your own perjury, do 
 you now force me to become the wife of a 
 man who can never be to my heart more than 
 a stranger, and whom I cannot even solace 
 myself by hating? I could have sacrificed 
 myself for your happiness ; I should have 
 gloried in so doing. With yoii, I could have 
 welcomed sorrow, poverty, and suffering, with- 
 out a murmur ; but you have coldly cast away 
 my affection, and on your head be the penalty 
 of your crime. I shall not die ; I feel that I 
 shall not die : I am too young, and life is too 
 strong within me, or I could lay down my 
 head, glad to feel that its next resting-place 
 would be the grave. But there is a moral 
 death — a lingering, hopeless, reckless death, 
 which has no solace here, no hope hereafter — 
 and to this you have condemned me. My 
 whole life will be a lie. I shall utter vows
 
 DESPAIR. 197 
 
 false and faithless as your own heart ; and 
 you will have whispered them in my ear — 
 dictated them to my lips. You, whom I loved 
 — whom I trusted. But for you I would 
 have refused to barter my truth for an idle 
 name — my self-respect for greatness; I would 
 have clung to you through every trial, and 
 through every suffering. All is over now ; I 
 shall be what you have made me." And, 
 convulsed with agony, the miserable girl sank 
 back exhausted by the violence of her feel- 
 insfs. 
 
 " My daughter will be a peeress ! " proudly 
 whispered Mrs. Heathcote to herself, as she 
 sought her own room. " My sister will be 
 humbled, and I shall not have lived in vain."
 
 198 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW. 
 
 Poor Ferdinand ! He had hoped and be- 
 lieved, as he left the house of her whom he 
 so devotedly loved, and whom he had so 
 hopelessly lost, that his most painful trial was 
 now over. " I will leave England," he mur- 
 mured ; " the very moment that I have ascer- 
 tained the result of the coming interview. 
 My duty is accomplished ; my sacrifice will 
 be completed should Laura indeed consent to 
 become the wife of Lord Ravens wood. But 
 surely she cannot do this ! If she did not 
 deceive me by the hollow blandishments of a 
 coquette she will never consent to perjure 
 herself for rank — to give herself in her young 
 beauty to a man old enough to be her father 
 — to sell herself to an empty, hollow ambition. 
 She has no vow to bind her like that by 
 which I am thralled ; she has no father's
 
 THE OLD LOVE AND THE N'EW. 199 
 
 crime to expiate ; she is free to follow the 
 dictates of her o^vn heart ; she must, she does 
 know, that by complying with the selfish 
 wishes of her mother she will condemn me. to 
 hfe-long wretchedness, and estrange me from 
 my best and truest friend : for I cannot, dare 
 not, attempt to look upon her when she has 
 become his wife ; it would kill me to see her 
 smile upon him as she once smiled upon me. 
 No : the world is wide, and I must put that 
 world between us. But I will not despair. 
 Laura cannot be compelled to barter her truth 
 for a coronet; and should she refuse — should 
 
 she remain true to me Yet how can I dare 
 
 to hope it ? Has she not already consented 
 to receive the formal visit of her noble suitor, 
 when she might have spared both herself and 
 him the pain of an interview which was to 
 end only in mortification to the Earl and in 
 disappointment to her mother ? Would she 
 have subjected me to this bitter, this mad- 
 dening suspense? It is vain and idle to 
 entertain such an idea ! As well might I hope 
 to forget her." 
 
 Never once, while reflecting thus, did 
 Marston remember how little the part which 
 he had lately played in this domestic drama
 
 200 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 could tend to convince Laura of the sincerity 
 of his attachment, nor how much cause he 
 had himself given her to doubt it. Had he 
 not voluntarily undertaken to unite her with 
 another? Had he not perseveringly forced 
 upon his benefactor the necessity and eli- 
 gibility of a marriage which was repulsive to 
 his sense of propriety and fitness ? Had he 
 not, in fact, made her gold the medium 
 through which he led her to degrade and 
 debase her better nature? No; he forgot 
 that Miss Heathcote was altogether ignorant 
 of the fatal circumstance which had thrown 
 him, bound hand and foot, into the power 
 of her mother, and that she could only esti- 
 mate his conduct by plain and damning facts, 
 by all of which he was condemned. Had 
 he dwelt upon these considerations, he must 
 have felt that the pride of the poor girl, thus 
 suddenly and cruelly abandoned, would give 
 her strength to abandon him in her turn, 
 however deeply she might regret his false- 
 hood. What could he be in her eyes but a 
 heartless coxcomb, who had trifled with her 
 affections, and made a mock of her creduhty ? 
 Could they have met alone, though only 
 for a few brief moments, how much after-
 
 THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW. 201 
 
 anguish, how much remorse, might have been 
 spared to both ! but this was not to be. 
 How many hearts that have been broken by 
 the world, and the world's vices, might have 
 retained their purity and peace, had those in 
 whose breasts they beat been true to them- 
 selves, discarded doubt, and refused to be- 
 lieve the beloved one to be guilty, without 
 full and ample proof! 
 
 Here were two young lives blighted, when 
 a look or a word glanced or uttered in con- 
 fidence and affection would have saved them 
 both; neither Laura nor Ferdinand could 
 ever love again, for she had lost her faith in 
 human nature, and he had so wound up his 
 being in that of the fair girl who had first 
 taught him the bliss of living for her sake, 
 that his heart was closed for ever against the 
 allurements of any other passion. 
 
 With throbbing pulses, and eyes heavy 
 with tears, Miss Heathcote awaited the arrival 
 of the Earl, but her thoughts were not with 
 him. Even now, at the very moment which 
 must prove the turning-point of her life, al- 
 though she had just accused him of having 
 sacrificed her to his own vanity, and con- 
 vinced herself that it would henceforward be
 
 202 A IJFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 her duty to regard him with contempt and 
 abhorrence, she was still seeking to exonerate 
 Ferdinand in her own eyes ; and to persuade 
 herself that, even while circumstances ap- 
 parently condemned him, he might still be 
 blameless. But she failed in the attempt. 
 Poor, he had professed to love her ; suddenly 
 enriched, he had forsaken her : the baseness of 
 his conduct was too evident, and even passion 
 paled before disgust and indignation. Her 
 pride was humbled; her feelings outraged. 
 What mattered it now what her destiny might 
 be ? Her sole remaining duty was obedience 
 to her mother; and, bitter as was the task 
 enforced by that duty, she would perform it. 
 Her heart was bursting, but her will was 
 strong. He should not think that he could 
 so readily cast her off, and that she was weak 
 enough to weep over his loss. 
 
 Poor Laura ! she overrated her strength. 
 Love is like the banian, which, wrenched from 
 the earth in one direction, only drives its fibres 
 deeper into the soil, and roots itself more 
 firmly in another. 
 
 As the hour approached which the Earl 
 had appointed for his visit to Mrs. Pleathcote 
 and her daughter, his restless irritation became
 
 THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW. 203 
 
 painful, while the agitation of Marston grew 
 into positive torture; and we need scarcely 
 say how his sufferings, bitter as they were from 
 apprehension and suspense, were augmented 
 v/hen Lord RavenswooJ, entering the room in 
 which he was seated with his sister (vainly 
 endeavouring to persuade her that he never 
 was more happy or more tranquil as to the 
 future since his boyhood), said abruptly, and 
 with a nervous trepidation altogether foreign 
 to his usual manner : — 
 
 " Now then, my dear children, we will 
 pay our visit. Are you ready ? " 
 
 " Ready, my lord ? What visit are v.e 
 about to pay?" asked Enna, looking up 
 inquiringly. 
 
 "Has not Ferdinand told you, then?" 
 was the answering inquiry. 
 
 " He has told me nothing." 
 
 " We are going to call upon Mrs. Heath- 
 cote." 
 
 " Oh, if that is all, I will not detain you 
 a moment ; " smiled Miss Greville, throwing 
 down the pen with which she had been busily 
 engaged in copying some music. " I am so 
 very happy to hear that we are once more 
 to enter that house as we used to do, a
 
 204 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 real family party, that I will show you 
 how rapidly a woman can tie on her bon- 
 net, despite all the sarcasms of your sar- 
 €astic sex." And as she ceased speaking 
 she disappeared. 
 
 Ferdinand, meanwhile, who had been 
 hitherto languidly leaning against his sister's 
 harp, started from his inert position and said 
 hurriedly : — 
 
 " I trust that you will excuse me. Lord 
 Ravenswood. Enna will be only too happy 
 to accompany you ; but I have just received 
 a summons from my solicitor which I am 
 anxious to obey ; and as my presence " 
 
 " Your presence, my dear boy, is indis- 
 pensable ; " was the equally hasty rejoinder of 
 the Earl. " You are quite aware that I 
 placed myself in your hands, and you must 
 not fail me at such a moment as this. The 
 part which I have to play is uncongenial to 
 my nature and to my age, and I shall re- 
 quire your assistance in order to do justice to 
 myself." 
 
 " But really, my lord " 
 
 "What am I to understand?" asked Lord 
 Ravens wood ; "Do you shrink from the 
 responsibility which you have voluntarily
 
 THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW. 205 
 
 assumed ? Have you some unacknowledged 
 motive for thus withdrawing yourself at 
 the very period when I most require your 
 support?" 
 
 "Motive?" echoed the agonized young 
 man. " Oh, no ; I can, of course, have no 
 motive, except that of " 
 
 "All false delicacy is out of the question, 
 Ferdinand;" said Lord Ravenswood; "Mrs. 
 Heathcote has natm-ally informed her daughter 
 of the active part which you have taken in 
 bringing about this marriage ; and Laura 
 must consequently be prepared to receive you, 
 my adopted son, with as much welcome as 
 myself, should she indeed voluntarily consent 
 to become my wife, as you have assured me 
 that she will do. The sooner, therefore, that 
 all the wearisome and ceremonious details 
 of the affair are over the better. By the 
 way, have you told Enna the purpose of our 
 visit?" 
 
 " I have told her nothmg." 
 
 " I am sorry for it ; " said the Earl ; " you 
 should have done so. However, it is now too 
 late to enter into all the necessary explanations, 
 as the carriage will be at the door by the time 
 she is ready."
 
 206 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " One moment, my lord, and I will be 
 ready also ; " was the reply of Marston, as he 
 hastened from the room. 
 
 When he reached the library he supported 
 himself for a few instants against the table. 
 Yes, Mrs. Heathcote had no doubt apprised 
 her daughter of the treacherous part that he 
 had already played; but Laura might still 
 have doubted, had he not forced his unblushing 
 falsehood upon her at a moment when every 
 sense of delicacy should have compelled his 
 absence. How base, how worthless, was he 
 about to appear in her eyes ! What could be 
 done ? He seized a sheet of blank paper, 
 folded and enclosed it in an envelope, and 
 then, summoning a servant, he said, with as 
 much composure as he could assume, while 
 he wrote his own address upon the supposed 
 letter: — 
 
 " I am about, Jackson, to accompany his 
 lordship and my sister to Mrs. Heathcote's ; 
 but as I have a pressing business engagement, 
 be good enough to let this follow me in half 
 an hour, in order that my abrupt departure 
 may not excite surprise. You will not forget 
 it?" 
 
 " I will not, sir."
 
 THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW. 207 
 
 " And now farewell, not only hope, but 
 self-respect ; " murmured ^larston to himself, 
 as the man disappeared. " I have become the 
 creature of deceit and subterfuo;e in mv own 
 eyes, and in those of Laura I shall be a wretch 
 who has disorraced his manhood and olories 
 in his shame. Well, be it so ; my destiny is 
 decided. I can make my poor Enna happy, 
 and then I will abandon all. Love ! — pshaw ! 
 What has love been to me? Torture and 
 suffering. Country! — I have no country; 
 the very earth upon which I tread seems to 
 fail beneath my feet. What matters it where 
 I drasf out a blis^hted existence ? Ha ! there 
 is the carriage ; the bridegroom is impatient ; 
 his bride is awaiting him. His bride ! My 
 Laura, whom I had wooed and won — my 
 own, who now is his ! It is unnatural — it is 
 maddening ; and I am to be compelled to look 
 upon their smiles, to hear their whispered 
 words of endearment. Oh, my father ! at 
 what a frightful price have I redeemed your 
 honour !" 
 
 " My lord is waiting, sir." 
 
 "I am coming instantly ; " said Marston, 
 startled out of his painful reverie, and clutching 
 his hat with a convulsive force which almost
 
 20S A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 made his fingers meet through the beaver. 
 " Yes," he muttered, as he turned to leave 
 the room, " I am coming. Another half hour, 
 and I shall have signed the death-warrant of 
 all my hopes ! "
 
 A STRUGGLE. 209 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A STRUGGLE. 
 
 When Lord Ravenswood and his companions 
 were ushered into the drawing-room of Mrs. 
 Heathcote it was, evidently to her annoyance, 
 filled with visitors, to whom the arrival of the 
 Earl was a welcome incident, as they had 
 fluttered about the sofa of the invalid with a 
 simulated regret and sympathy which had 
 beojun to grow wearisome to her. In an 
 instant Enna was beside her friend, but she 
 uttered no lamentations, indulged in no ela- 
 borated condolences. A silent pressure of 
 the hand, and an anxious glance at the wasted 
 cheek, now paler than marble ; and at the 
 tear-laden and downcast eyes, was all the 
 greeting that she oflPered ; but it was enough ; 
 when suddenly that pale cheek flushed, and 
 that hitherto-nerveless hand quivered in her 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 grasp. Ferdinand had approached the sofa 
 in his turn. 
 
 "I am deeply grieved, Miss Heathcote;" 
 he be^'an, when suddenly Laura raised her 
 drooping head, and a scornful light flashed in 
 her eyes as the one word "Sir?" broke dis- 
 dainfully from her lips. 
 
 Mars ton was silent ; and retreating a few 
 paces, flung himself into a chair. 
 
 This little scene had been concealed from 
 the visitors by the stately form of Mrs. Heath- 
 cote, who had risen from her seat to welcome 
 the Earl, and still stood beside him. 
 
 " You are right, unfortunately, my lord;" 
 she said blandly ; " Laura does look ill : but 
 it is a mere nervous attack, which will soon be 
 conquered. In my time young ladies were 
 not troubled with nervous attacks. My dar- 
 ling, Lord Ravens wood is kind enough to 
 express his regret at your little indisposition." 
 
 "You are very good;" said the invalid, 
 raising herself upon her cushions, and forcing 
 a smile as she resolutely extended her hand ; 
 " I really feel quite unworthy of so much 
 sympathy. A little rest, and a little fresh 
 air 
 
 " Of course, of course ; you will be quite
 
 A STRUGGLE. 211 
 
 well in a few hours;" interposed her mother; 
 " and, really, after all, your lordship must 
 admit that in her case a slight illness is not 
 altoo-ether unbecominpr." 
 
 Well might she say so, for, crushed and 
 heartbroken as she was, the beauty of Miss 
 Heathcote was something almost spirit-like; 
 her large and lustrous eyes gleamed like stars, 
 her bloodless brow wore the tint of alabaster, 
 and her languid form was statuesque in its 
 faultless proportions ; while the soft white 
 wrapping dress, which fell in light folds about 
 her, gave a childlike effect to her whole ap- 
 pearance, which more than ever reminded the 
 Earl of a fact that he would willingly have 
 forgotten. 
 
 Enna, meanwhile, was suffering under a 
 vague sensation of alarm and bewilderment, 
 which became every moment more painful. 
 The whole scene was mysterious to her. 
 Why had Laura so imperiously withdrawn 
 from the greeting of her brother ? Did they 
 love each other no longer ? W^hy had she so 
 warmly welcomed the Earl, while she had 
 not uttered a single word to herself? What 
 could it mean ? 
 
 At this instant some of the visitors rose to
 
 212 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 depart; and ere long all had taken their leave, 
 save Lord Ravenswood and his party. After 
 having exerted herself to receive the Earl, the 
 invalid had again sunk back ; the lids had 
 fallen over her eyes, and the long dark lashes 
 rested upon her cheeks. One miniature hand 
 still grasped that of Miss Greville, while the 
 other pillowed her head, and was buried amid 
 her luxuriant hair. Poor girl ! she was steeped 
 to the very lips in anguish. What could 
 bring Ferdinand to her mother's house at 
 such a moment ? Was he there to insult her 
 misery, and to gloat over his own triumph? 
 Was he utterly heartless, or shamelessly re- 
 gardless of her feelings ? Little could she 
 estimate the torture which he was even then 
 undergoing, with the stern endurance of a 
 martyr at the stake, for she knew nothing of 
 the circumstances which had compelled him 
 thus to sacHfice all the best and holiest im- 
 pulses of his nature. And yet, had she 
 ventured to trust herself with one glance at 
 his convulsed features, compressed lips, and 
 constrained attitude, she might have read at 
 least a portion of his secret, and that the very 
 portion for which she panted. 
 
 With that perfect good breeding and
 
 A STRUGGLE. 213 
 
 knowledge of the world for which he was con- 
 spicuous, Lord Ravenswood no sooner found 
 himself relieved from the presence of strangers 
 than he moved to a seat near the invalid, with 
 whom he entered into one of those futile, but 
 agreeable conversations, which permit a host of 
 courteous things to be said without for a 
 moment startling the listener ; and either un- 
 consciously, or by a firm eff'ort of will, Laura 
 found herself instinctively interested, when 
 Mrs. Heathcote, who became impatient to 
 exchange these commonplaces for something 
 more definite and conclusive, suddenly began 
 to expatiate upon the gratification which she 
 felt at the honour which the Earl had con- 
 ferred upon her daughter by the offer of his 
 hand ; and to express her deep sense of obli- 
 gation to Mr. Marston, whose anxiety for the 
 happiness of her darling had, as she declared, 
 earned her everlasting gratitude. 
 
 Miss Greville looked up in wonder, but 
 she did not attempt to utter a syllable. She 
 was more and more bewildered by all that she 
 saw and heard passing about her. 
 
 The position of the whole party at this 
 abrupt outbreak was pitiable'; for while the 
 lady herself was radiant with exultation and
 
 214 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 self-gratulation, Enna sat speechless, Laura 
 was struggling to force back her tears, and 
 Lord Ravenswood, half suspicious of the truth, 
 was ill at ease, as he felt himself to be in a 
 false and almost absurd position. As to Fer- 
 dinand, his brain appeared to burn, and every 
 object around him to revolve ; he could see 
 nothing clearly, lie could hear nothing dis- 
 tinctly ; the wild chaos which we are told riots 
 in and about a drowning man can alone typify 
 his sensations. 
 
 " Will this torture never end?" he asked, 
 as he sat with a stereotyped smile upon his 
 lips, and a cold gnawing at his heart. 
 
 It did. Scarcely a moment had elapsed 
 when the letter which he had prepared was 
 placed in his hand ; and hurriedly pretexting 
 an imperative summons which compelled his 
 immediate attention, he hastily took his leave, 
 without another glance at her in whom his 
 whole existence was bound up. 
 
 Was Laura happier as she saw him de- 
 part ? Surely she should have been so after 
 arguing herself into the conviction that his 
 presence under such circumstances was an 
 insult; and yet this was far from being the 
 case. Unconsciously she had felt that pre-
 
 A STRUGGLE. 215 
 
 sence support and strengthen her ; she could 
 not reconcile it to herself that anything con- 
 clusive could be said, that anvthins: decided 
 could be arranged, while he was by to assert a 
 prior claim to her love, and to insisi on her ful- 
 filling her voluntary pledge ; and thus, when 
 she saw the door close behind him, she was 
 overwhelmed by a sense of utter isolation and 
 helplessness. Had Ferdinand only advanced 
 his claim to her affections — his right to de- 
 mand her hand — she too Avould have braved 
 ahke the displeasure of her mother and the 
 indignation of the Earl ; but no, he had coldly 
 abandoned her to her fate, and nothing was 
 now left to her but to submit. 
 
 Her apprehensions were correct ; the pre- 
 sence of Z\Iarston had indeed exercised an in- 
 voluntary restraint over the Earl, who, after 
 having acted as the mentor of his adopted sou 
 during five-and-twenty years, found it ex- 
 tremely difficult to exhibit himself before him in 
 the onerous position of the antiquated suitor of 
 a young and beautiful girl ; but no sooner had 
 his ward disappeared than, gently taking the 
 hand of Miss Heathcote, Lord Ravenswood 
 said in a subdued voice, and with an earnest 
 manner which at once convinced his fisteners
 
 216 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 that they were no unimportant words he was 
 about to utter : — 
 
 " You will perhaps think, my dear young 
 lady, that experience should by this time have 
 taught me wisdom ; and have convinced me 
 that, although my own feelings might become 
 deeply interested by the purehearted and 
 lovely of your sex, I could scarcely hope that 
 those feelings would meet with a response. 
 I am, I acknowledge, of the same opinion ; and 
 yet, even after this confession, I am compelled 
 to admit that I could not resist the temptation 
 of convincing myself that the hopes which 
 your mother has been so flattering as to hold 
 out to me might possibly be fulfilled. It now 
 remains for you to ratify or to negative those 
 hopes/' 
 
 "I confidently assure your lordship/' in- 
 terposed Mrs. Heathcote ; " that both my 
 daughter and myself fully appreciate the 
 honour " 
 
 " One moment, madam ; " pursued the 
 Earl gravely; "I am aware, fully aware, of 
 the kind interest which prompts you to assure 
 me that my suit is acceptable to your charm- 
 ing daughter ; but I must request you, as a 
 favour, to permit her to answer the questions
 
 A STRUGGLE. 217 
 
 which I shall take the liberty of putting to 
 her, ^Yith her own lips. Be influenced by no 
 impulse but that of truth, I intreat of you, my 
 dear Miss Heathcote ; have no regard for my 
 feelings ; as, should I have suffered myself to 
 be misled, I shall deserve no such considera- 
 tion. Do you feel the slightest repugnance to 
 becoming my wife ? " 
 
 " I refer everything to my mother, my 
 lord;" murmured the young lady; " I know 
 that she has always been anxious to insure 
 my happiness, and I am ready to abide by 
 her decision." 
 
 " Your reply is honourable to you, Miss 
 Heathcote, as a daughter ; " said the Earl im- 
 pressively ; " but it is, nevertheless, far from 
 satisfactory to me, as it savoiu-s more of resign- 
 ation than of free will." 
 
 " My dear Lord Ravenswood ; " again in- 
 terposed Mrs. Heathcote; " How strangely you 
 misunderstand Lam-a ! BeHeve me when I 
 assure you that there is no resignation in the 
 case. How, indeed, could such a thing be 
 possible when she is well aware " 
 
 " You are failing in our conditions, 
 madam;" was the rejoinder: "allow me to 
 comprehend without mistake my position as
 
 218 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 regards your daughter. I can offer to you, 
 Miss Heathcote, the affectionate interest of a 
 sincere friend, and the zealous protection of a 
 tender father ; more I will not say, as I have 
 no inclination to mislead you by promises 
 which it might not perhaps be hereafter in my 
 power to fulfil. I am quite aware that at 
 your age, and with your personal advantages, 
 you have a right to look for more, much 
 more ; but although I may disap])oint, I will 
 never AvilfuUy deceive you. If you feel that 
 you can trust to my affection, and that it will 
 suffice to your happiness, rest assured that it 
 will at least be firm and unalterable." 
 
 "What could any reasonable woman re- 
 quire more?" inquired the elder lady, striving 
 to conceal her impatience under a smile. 
 
 " Remember, my dear girl ;" pursued Lord 
 Ravenswood, disregarding the interruption ; 
 '' that you have, in all human probability, a 
 long and brilliant future to anticipate, full of 
 new impressions, new enjoyments, and new 
 hopes, while that which remains to me must 
 necessarily be peopled rather by memories than 
 by yearnings after the novel, and, at my age, 
 the unattainable ; memories, moreover, of so 
 far-ieaching a past that they are gradually
 
 A STRUGGLE. 219 
 
 fading from my mind. As I look back I can 
 dwell upon as much as you will do in looking 
 forward. This is a grave consideration ; and I 
 should be wanting in self-respect did T not 
 place it fairly before you. You will think me 
 a strange wooer, Miss Heathcote, but I must 
 be just both to you and to myself. In accept- 
 ing my hand you will make a serious sacrifice ; 
 unless, indeed, and that I dare scarcely to hope, 
 
 you do so in the firm faith that In 
 
 short, the disparity of age between us con- 
 vinces me that there must exist a decided 
 difference of tastes, habits, and feelings ; you 
 are only beginning a life which I have nearly 
 exhausted. You are very young, and it is 
 natural that a wife should be proud of the 
 husband of her choice. Are you ready to 
 forego so legitimate and praiseworthy a 
 vanity?" 
 
 " Surely, my lord " 
 
 " One moment more, madam ; " persisted 
 the Earl ; " and I will no longer fatigue Miss 
 Heathcote by my apparent sententiousness ; 
 but it would render me worthless in my own 
 eyes were I not to prepare your daughter for 
 the disappointments to which she may be ex- 
 posed in becoming the wife of a man so much
 
 220 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 her senior in years. Reflect, my sweet girl : 
 would it not cost you a painful effort were 
 some stranger whom you casually encoun- 
 tered in society to inquire of you if I were your 
 father, to answer cheerfully and without a 
 pang of regret, ' He is my husband ? ' Put 
 this question to yourself. All that I can offer 
 in exchange for your youth and beauty are an 
 honest heart, an upright conscience, high rank, 
 and a name which has never been sullied by- 
 dishonour. These are my sole claims to your 
 favour ; and with your personal and worldly 
 advantages you may command them all in a 
 younger and more brilliant husband than my- 
 self. Reflect, therefore, I repeat, before you 
 pledge yourself to a destiny at which you may 
 hereafter be led to repine." 
 
 The words and manner of the Earl v/ere 
 so gentle, so full of self-abnegation and 
 generous consideration, that it was impossible 
 to listen to them unmoved, or to remain in- 
 sensible to the noble simplicity and dignified 
 absence of self- appreciation which they re- 
 vealed. 
 
 But Laura continued silent. 
 
 '* Am I to interpret your silence as con- 
 sent?" at length asked Lord Ravens wood.
 
 A STRUGGLE. 221 
 
 " Of course, of course, my dear lord ; " ex- 
 claimed her mother eagerly. 
 
 *' It is ioYyou to decide. Miss Heathcote ;" 
 said the Earl gravely, as he took her hand ; 
 " and by that decision, be it what it may, I 
 shall abide." 
 
 Laura burst into tears. 
 
 '' Upon my honour;" said Mrs. Heath- 
 cote with an uneasy laugh, and moving as 
 she spoke to the back of the sofa upon which 
 the invalid was lying ; " a young girFs tears 
 fall as freely as a summer rain, even when a 
 bright sun is shining overhead. You must 
 forgive this childishness, my dear lord. They 
 are all alike, I find, on such occasions as 
 this ; though I confess I did flatter myself 
 that my daughter would have been superior 
 to such weakness. Laura ; " she whispered 
 hoarsely in the ear of the poor girl, while 
 affecting to arrange her cushions ; " I insist 
 upon your drying your eyes instantly." 
 
 Lord Ravenswood rose proudly — almost 
 haughtily — from his seat. Despite all his 
 assurances he was still human, and he was 
 most deeply mortified. The heart of Enna 
 beat tumultuously, as she clasped the hand 
 which the Earl had coldly resigned ; and
 
 222 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 again the low hoarse Avhisper fell upon the ear 
 of Laura. 
 
 " Beware !" Then passing her perfumed 
 handkerchief caressingly over the brow of her 
 almost fainting daughter, Mrs. Heathcote said 
 blandly : '' Speak, ray child ; his Lordship 
 awaits your answer." 
 
 "I will obey you, mamma;" sobbed out 
 the poor girl. 
 
 " Do not mistake me, madam;" said the 
 Earl ; " I will accept no victim at your hands. 
 You are well aware that when I approached 
 Miss Heathcote as a suitor, I did so at your 
 own instigation ; and in the full assurance, also 
 given by yourself, that my pretensions were 
 not disagreeable or unwelcome to the young 
 lady, whose feelings I have, as it would ap- 
 pear, most involuntarily Avounded. She will, I 
 trust, be generous enough to pardon an offence 
 so unconsciously committed ; and now, with 
 your permission, I will take my leave." 
 
 " Do you brave me, unnatural girl ? " 
 murmured the deep and constrained voice 
 once more, as the hand of Mrs. Heathcote fell 
 heavily upon the arm of her daughter. 
 
 A sudden terror thrilled through the veins 
 of Laura.. What had she not to fear, when
 
 A S'iRUGGLE. 223 
 
 no longer protected by the presence of the 
 Earl? She languidly raised her head, and 
 as her gaze suddenly fastened upon the empty 
 chair so recently occupied by Ferdinand — by 
 Ferdinand, who had deceived and abandoned 
 her — nay more, v»^ho had wilfully subjected 
 her to this frightful persecution, her resolu- 
 tion was at once taken. 
 
 " You have mistaken alike my silence and 
 my emotion, Lord Ravenswood;" she said, in 
 a steady voice ; " my mother has not misled 
 you. I am ready and willing to become your 
 wife ; and feel honoured by the good opinion 
 which you have formed of me, and which, 
 I trust, never to forfeit." 
 
 " I was not deceived in you, Laura ; " ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Heathcote, radiant u'ith delight ; 
 " I could always read your heart." 
 
 The Earl did not, however, appear by any 
 means convinced of the sincerity of the as- 
 surance which he had just received. 
 
 " Are you quite sure. Miss Heathcote ; " 
 he asked doubtingly ; " that you are not at 
 this moment deceiving alike yourself and me ? 
 I will not consent to expose myself to the risk 
 of your after-repentance." 
 
 " Have you no faith in my truthfulness ? "
 
 224 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 demanded the half-maddened girl in her turn. 
 " Hear me then, Lord Ravenswood, while I 
 declare, that if I do not become your bride 
 I will give my hand to no other man on 
 earth." 
 
 " Then, Laura, I am to understand ; " said 
 the Earl almost sadly ; " that you will be 
 mine by your own free will, and without 
 coercion of any kind?" 
 
 Laura bowed her head upon his proffered 
 hand; he touched her brow lightly and re- 
 verently with his lips ; and then, with a mute 
 summoning to Miss Greville to follow him, 
 he bent low before Mrs. Heathcote and left 
 the room.
 
 A FAMILY SKETCH, 225 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A FAMILY SKETCH. 
 
 While this painful scene was enacting in 
 Grosvenor Street, one equally stormy was 
 taking place in Br}^anston Square. As we 
 have already stated, Sir Marmaduke and 
 Lady Willoughby almost idohsed their selfish 
 and worldly son ; but although the affection- 
 ate forbearance of a mother is perhaps exhaust- 
 less, such is far from being universally the 
 case with a father. 
 
 The Baronet had been the voun2:est of 
 three brothers ; and had, accordingly, gathered 
 up a few tares during his youth, while his 
 more fortunate brothers were pampered upon 
 the wheat of the estate. While they were 
 rowing, boating, and boxing at Cambridge, 
 he was consigned to the care of a country 
 rector, whose narrow stipend and four grown- 
 up daughters rendered a small addition to his 
 
 vol. i. q
 
 22G A LTFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 limited income by no means unwelcome ; even 
 burtliened as it was with the charge of a 
 wrong-headed, unruly boy, whose previous 
 education had been almost entirely derived 
 from the scanty stores of the deaf school- 
 master, who reigned supreme over the rising 
 generation of the small village near his father's 
 place, varied by the choice vocabularies of the 
 stable-yard and the servants' offices. 
 
 Marmaduke was, in short, the pariah of 
 the family, and left to scramble through life 
 as he pleased until he had reached his twelfth 
 year; when, rather for decency's sake than 
 from any actual interest in his welfare, he was 
 transferred to Tiverton Rectory, to amaze the 
 Kev. Mr. Hollo way by his surpassing igno- 
 rance and unblushing assurance, and to harass 
 his poor, meek, inoffensive daughters by his 
 mischievous propensities. 
 
 Ponsonby would inherit the estate, while 
 Lionel had two livings at nurse ready for him 
 when he should be duly qualified to super- 
 sede their temporary incumbents. The Church 
 is always an eligible provision for the second 
 sons of wealthy landholders, who are anxious 
 to preserve their revenues intact, and to 
 bequeath them e7i masse to the representative
 
 A FAMILY SKETCH. 227 
 
 of the family. But what was to be done with 
 Marmaduke? To be frank with the reader, 
 this was a question very rarely, and always 
 very coldly, discussed between the Baronet 
 and his wife. It would be time enough to 
 decide, they argued, Avhen he left school — a 
 younger son is always a nonentity under such 
 circumstances — and so year succeeded year, 
 and the boy grew into a tall stripling, and the 
 stripling was rapidly becoming aware that he 
 could amuse himself much more ao;reeablv 
 than in yawning over the Latin Grammar, and 
 teazino; the four lon2:-suiFerin2: daus^hters of 
 his tutor, when a sudden summons home gave 
 a new turn to his ideas and projects. 
 
 Ponsonby, the pride and hope of the 
 house, had received so severe an injury by a 
 fall from his horse while hunting, that he 
 never rallied, and had become a confirmed 
 invalid, wiiose life hung upon a thread- 
 Symptoms of consumption had indeed already 
 Tbetrayed themselves, and all chance of his 
 succession to the family honours was at an 
 end. 
 
 Under these circumstances it was evident, 
 according to all seeming, that Lionel, his 
 quasi-clerical brother, would one day reign in
 
 228 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 his stead; and, consequently, nothing could 
 be more simple than that the exiled Marma- 
 duke should be recalled to the Hall, and 
 forthwith instructed to prepare himself to 
 replace Lionel as Rector of Bridletown and 
 Vicar of Greenhill. 
 
 The unruly boy had, however, grown into 
 the resolute youth; and insist as he might, 
 the irritated Baronet found it impossible to 
 compel him to acquiesce in this substitution. 
 He had now escaped the trammels of private 
 tutorship, and he at once determined that he 
 would not submit to those of College. 
 
 " What did you intend to make of me, 
 sir?" he asked quietly; "if this misfortune 
 had not happened to Ponsonby?" 
 
 " I scarcely know ; " was the equally com- 
 posed reply ; " but I suppose that I should 
 have purchased you a commission in the 
 army." 
 
 "A wise decision!" said his son; "and 
 one that I should advise you still to carry out, 
 as that is the career upon w^hich I have 
 already decided." 
 
 " Upon which t/ou have decided ! " ex- 
 claimed the astonished old gentleman. 
 
 " Precisely I As no one appeared to
 
 A FAMILY SKETCH. 229 
 
 think for me, I have learnt to think for 
 myself. Neither my tastes, my habits, nor 
 my acquirements fit me for the Church ; and 
 like a worthy Yorkshire farmer of my ac- 
 quaintance, I have no respect for pleurisies." 
 
 '''Fovwhat, sir?" demanded the enraged 
 Baronet, perfectly petrified by the calm self- 
 assertion of his last-born. 
 
 " For pleurisies. Sir Ponsonby. He is a 
 very sensible man, that friend of mine, I can 
 assure you ; and he says that what he parti- 
 cularly objects to in our Church Establishment 
 is, that the working clergy are left to starve, 
 while all men of family and influence are 
 hooded and stalled, and become pleurisies." 
 
 *' How dare you jest upon such a subject, 
 sir? 
 
 " I do not jest-/' was the careless rejoinder ; 
 " and you may rely upon it that it is no joke 
 to the sufferers. I am a tolerable judge of 
 that subject at least, having for several years 
 been in a position to sympathise, much more 
 than was at all agreeable, in the privations of 
 one hard-worked and ill-fed parson." 
 
 " But I do not intend you to be either 
 hard- worked or ill-fed ; " sliouted his exas- 
 perated father.
 
 230 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " Nor do I ; and, consequently, my mind 
 is made up as to my future career. If I had 
 been reared and educated like my brothers, I 
 might have felt differently; but, being a 
 stranger in my father's house, I have no 
 home- worship to render the prospect of a 
 still longer exile distasteful to me. Take my 
 advice, sir, and procure the contemplated 
 commission at once. Do not be afraid that 
 I shall do any discredit to the family." 
 
 " I shall do no such thing, young gentle- 
 man." 
 
 " As you please, sir ! In that case I 
 shall most certainly enlist," 
 
 "If you so disgrace your name I will 
 discard you !" bellowed the Baronet. 
 
 " Nay, nay, that is an empty threat ;" was 
 the bold retort of the fearless youth ; " for 
 have you not done that for years?" 
 
 Sir Ponsonby sank back in his chair, 
 fairly conquered. The spirit of his son was 
 decidedly not a clerical one, and the commis- 
 sion was purchased. 
 
 Marmaduke Willoughby became a brave 
 man, and an excellent officer. He served for 
 several years in India, and was twice men- 
 tioned in the despatches ; but his military
 
 A FAMILY SKETCH. 231 
 
 career was not destined to be a lonp; one. 
 His brother Ponson^ y had not survived his 
 own departure from England more than a few 
 months, when the two family livings had been 
 bestowed upon a distant cousin, who evinced 
 no reluctance whatever to excliange present 
 poverty for the future loaves and fishes of a 
 pluralist; and who consequently contrived, 
 with the pecuniary assistance of the Baronet, 
 to obtain his desrree at Oxford in a marvel- 
 lously short space of time, and with consider- 
 able credit to himself. Lionel was esta- 
 blished at the Hall, as the inheritor of its 
 honours ; and all once more fell into its usual 
 calm and quiet course, when, on a certain dark 
 November morning, while Lady Willoughby 
 and her son were awaiting the arrival of her 
 husband in the breakfast-room, his man-servant 
 entered hurriedly, and in an accent of dis- 
 may, which accorded perfectly with the terri- 
 fied expression of his pale and ghastly face, 
 announced, without preface or preparation, 
 that Sir Ponsonby, having incautiously gone 
 to his medicine-chest himself to look for a 
 liquid drug of which he was frequently in the 
 habit of making use, had, probably in a fit of 
 abstraction, taken out the wrong vial, and 
 swallowed a large quantity of laudanum.
 
 232 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 Medical aid was hastily summoned: but 
 before the three miles which the Esculapius 
 of the post-town was compelled to travel in 
 order to reach the Hall were accomplished. 
 Sir Ponsonby had breathed his last, and 
 Lionel Willoughby had succeeded to his 
 inheritance. 
 
 Hitherto, the new Baronet had been re- 
 markable for nothing particular, save perhaps 
 an unusually flexible disposition. He never 
 differed from any one, and the word of his 
 father was universally his law. He was soft- 
 eyed, and low-voiced; but it was singular 
 that, gentle and yielding as we have described 
 him, he nevertheless, by some occult means, 
 contrived to carry out his own will and plea- 
 sure in everything, even while his parents 
 were congratulating themselves upon his do- 
 cility and respect for their authority. 
 
 " So unhke that wretched boy Marma- 
 duke;" they declared; " who had no more 
 reverence for his parents than if he had never 
 had any ! " 
 
 Alas, for poor Lady Willoughby ! ' A 
 change came o'er the spirit of (her) dream,' 
 when this pattern son became undisputed 
 master of the ancient halls and broad acres 
 of his ancestors. Her jointure was grudg-
 
 A FAMILY SKETCH. 233 
 
 ingly paid ; her presence in the house, which 
 had so long been her home, evidently dis- 
 tasteful; and yet, of what could she com- 
 plain? Sir Lionel had never addressed to 
 her one disrespectful word; had never been 
 guilty of one uncourteous action. He was, 
 on the contrary, always calm and placid ; too 
 calm and too placid to satisfy the heart of a 
 mother. He occasionally almost appeared to 
 ignore her existence ; and there was a covert 
 sarcasm in his tone when, at rather rare inter- 
 vals, she ventured to enter into conversation 
 with him, which stung her to the quick. 
 
 Trusting that a temporary separation might 
 induce a better understanding between them, 
 the poor lady, with much reluctance and after 
 repeated hesitations, at length resolved to pay 
 a short visit to her own family, to many of 
 whose members she was an utter stranger. 
 The old had gradually sunk into their graves 
 since she last sat beside the hearth of her pa- 
 ternal home. The laughing children, who had 
 sported about her knees before her marriage, 
 were meii and women now ; and a new gene- 
 ration had sprung up to fill their places. 
 
 The prospect of this long- delayed visit 
 was not a cheerful one ; but the heart-bowed
 
 234 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 widow could no longer support the chilly at- 
 mosphere of her bereaved home ; and she 
 accordingly resolved to volunteer it. Her 
 proposal was warmly and gratefully acknow- 
 ledged. Down to the very babies, all were 
 anxious to see and to love " dear aunt Wii- 
 loughby ;" and once more a feeling of return- 
 ing happiness made her pulses beat with a 
 less languid throbbing than they had done 
 since the death of her husband. * 
 
 Lady Willoughby had not been absent from 
 the Hall above a few days when, to the amaze- 
 ment of the whole neighbourhood, an an- 
 nouncement appeared in the county paper 
 that the estate was to be let on a seven-years' 
 lease, and that immediate possession might 
 be had, as the owner was about to travel on 
 the Continent. 
 
 The old Hall readily found a tenant ; and 
 this was no sooner accomplished than Sir 
 Lionel, with a brief letter of leave-taking to 
 his forsaken mother, started for Paris, whence 
 he proceeded to Vienna, and finally from 
 Trieste to Italy. He was heard of, through 
 his bankers, alternately at Florence, Rome, 
 Venice, Genoa, and Naples : when he once 
 more took wino' for the East: visited Con-
 
 A FAMILY SKETCH. 235 
 
 stantinople and Egypt, and thence proceeded 
 to Athens, where he lost his life in an en- 
 counter with brigands : whereupon, the fact 
 being fully authenticated, Major Marmaduke 
 Willoudibv duly received intellis-ence at ]\Ia- 
 dras of the melancholy and fatal event which 
 had raised him, in his turn, to the baronetcy. 
 
 We have considered this retrospective 
 sketch necessary, in order that the reader 
 may be enabled fully to understand that, even 
 proud as he was of his son, the nature of the 
 present Baronet was not one likely to render 
 him blindly indulgent to his errors, particu- 
 larly where they involved so lavish an expen- 
 diture as to cause him some temporary in- 
 convenience. As regarded his wife, the matter 
 was, however, altogether different. She had 
 married the stern old soldier for his title and his 
 wealth ; on both which accessories to the man 
 himself she placed that undue value, which 
 they universally command in the eyes of 
 those who had never ventured to aspire to 
 their possession ; and although she soon dis- 
 covered that a youth of bitterness and a man- 
 hood of blended hardship and authority had 
 not tended to make Sir Marmaduke the most 
 compliant of husbands, she bore her home-
 
 236 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 trials meekly, satisfied that she had excited 
 the envy of her less fortunate sister, and 
 secured a good position in the world. 
 
 On her son she doated with the most 
 blind affection ; and marvellous were her 
 visions of the future greatness to be achieved 
 by his marriage. Peers' daughters and fo- 
 reign ^nchesses were among the least of her 
 speculations. Nothing, in short, was too 
 wild for her Aiaternal anticipations. And 
 that Arthur, through whom all these glorious 
 dreams were to be realised, should be thwarted 
 or coerced, appeared to her so monstrous, that 
 the imperious and wilful temperament of the 
 boy had been suffered to develope itself, until 
 every generous particle of his nature had been 
 overlaid by selfishness, and that undue appre- 
 ciation of himself and his own good qualities, 
 which were as sure to lure him to ruin as the 
 false light hung out by the wrecker to delude 
 the storm-tossed vessel to destruction.
 
 A FAILURE. 237 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A FAILURE. 
 
 "Don't talk to me, madam !" mumbled Sir 
 Marmaduke, clutching the arms of his chair 
 fiercely, and bending forward as if he were 
 about to make a spring ; '' Arthur may be 
 all that you say. Good looking ! Of course 
 he is, or he would not be my son. High- 
 bred ! What is there astonishing in that ? 
 Isn't he a Willoughby ? All the Willoughbys 
 have been good-looking and high-bred from 
 generation to generation ; it is a part of their 
 inheritance. But I will tell you w^hat they 
 have never been until now — empty-headed 
 and dissolute. Will the boy's good-looking 
 face improve his morals ? or his self-sufficiency 
 pay his debts ? I warned him on the last 
 occasion for about the twentieth time, and 
 he has thought proper to defy me. So be it.
 
 238 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 Let him now get out of this new scrape as he 
 can, for I will keep my w^ord/' 
 
 " But, Sir Marmaduke ; " expostulated the 
 pale and agitated mother ; " the poor boy will 
 be disgraced." 
 
 " He should have thought of that be- 
 fore." 
 
 ^' He is so young, my dear " 
 
 " He has been a man in the eye of the 
 law for two years and nine months, and is 
 therefore responsible for his own acts." 
 
 " But he has solemnly promised me that 
 if you will only pay this money he will never 
 gamble again." 
 
 " I won't trust him." 
 
 "But consider the family credit, Sir Mar- 
 maduke. This is a debt of honour." 
 
 " Let him try what the family credit will 
 do for him in the way of paying it. Or, 
 should you consider it a desirable expedient, 
 you can sell your diamonds, and pay it for 
 him;" growled her husband. 
 
 "You cannot surelv be so uno-enerous;" 
 exclaimed the lady ; " when you have so much 
 money lying idle ?" 
 
 " Money is never lying idle, Lady Wil- 
 loughby;" said the Baronet tartly; "and,
 
 A FAILrHE. 239 
 
 moreover, I do not choose to be made a beggar 
 in my old age/' 
 
 " Then I can tell you what Trill happen ;" 
 persisted his wife : " you will drive the poor 
 boy into the hands of the Jews." 
 
 "I would not advise him to let me find 
 him out in any transaction of the kind, and 
 you will do well to tell him so ; " was the 
 rejoinder ; " for I solemnly declare, that should 
 I ever discover that he has speculated upon 
 my death, he shall inherit barely what the law 
 must award to him, but not one shilling of 
 the money which I have been accumulating 
 at considerable self-sacrifice ever since his 
 ])irth, shall ever pass into his possession." 
 
 " You cannot be serious, Sir Marma- 
 duke!" 
 
 " I never was more serious in my life. 
 Xo, no, madam; you may have made a fool 
 of your son, but I am formed of sterner stufi*, 
 and will be no woman's puppet." 
 
 " You cannot conceive how penitent he 
 is;" said the mother, applying her handker- 
 chief to her eyes. 
 
 " Oh yes, I can ;" was the dry retort ; " as 
 penitent as the drunkard after a night's de- 
 bauch, when he wakes the next morning with
 
 240 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 an aching head and throbbing pulses ! Won- 
 drously penitent ! Marvellously penitent ! 
 And so he will continue to be until he has 
 released himself from the consequences of his 
 own ill-conduct." 
 
 " You have no other child, remember." 
 
 " True ; and to be candid with you, I am 
 very glad of it. Now listen to me, Lady 
 Willoughby. You know, or ought to know 
 by this time, that I am not a man to be trifled 
 with and set at nought ; so long as the boy 
 committed only follies, I was weak enough to 
 listen to your arguments (if arguments they 
 could be called), and to overlook, or, at all 
 events, to forgive his reckless extravagances ; 
 but he has now taken another and a wider 
 step on the road to ruin, and from folly has 
 progressed to vice. Weak, I may have been, 
 and have been, for I was fool enough to fancy 
 that my indulgence would have produced 
 some efiect upon him. It has not ; and I will 
 not countenance crime." 
 
 ''Crime!" 
 
 " Yes ; I say it advisedly, crime : for was 
 it not a crime to place himself in a position to 
 win the money of another, fool or rogue, as 
 the case might be, like himself, when he knew
 
 A FAILURE. 241 
 
 that, should fortune prove unfavourable to 
 him, he had not the means of acting like an 
 honest man?" 
 
 " You argue like an usurer, Sir Marma- 
 duke." 
 
 " And ycu like an idiot. Lady Willoughby. 
 You have sneered more than once at the 
 manner in which your sister had reared her 
 ■daughter; how have you educated your son? 
 Why, I would venture a year's income, that if 
 this exemplary young gentleman should offer 
 his hand to his cousin he would be bowed out 
 of the house." 
 
 " This is too much ! " exclaimed the lady 
 indignantly ; " and I am surprised " 
 
 "You are often surprised, my dear; but 
 I mean what I say. And now, as I am really 
 worn out by your pertinacity, I shall feel 
 obhged by your changing the subject." 
 
 " Well, sir;" said his wife defiantly ; " as 
 you have no regard for the name you bear, I 
 do not see that I am called upon to uphold it, 
 and therefore the experiment shall be tried. 
 Arthur's debt must be paid, and I know that 
 he does not dislike Laura. Remember, how- 
 ever, that it is your own suggestion. Let him 
 marry the merchant's daughter, if you compel 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 242 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 him to make such a sacrifice, but observe that 
 T protest against it." 
 
 "Protest, my clear, protest;" was the re- 
 joinder of the Baronet ; " but really, after all, 
 I do not see that the speculation will be a bad 
 one. You know I was born to the baronetcy, 
 and therefore I hold it rather cheaper than 
 you do. The girl is pretty, good-tempered, 
 and accomplished, and she is your niece j so 
 that, as I before remarked, there is not much 
 to be said." 
 
 " And you would consent to this to save 
 a paltry fifteen hundred pounds ?" 
 
 "It is not the money after all. Lady 
 Willoughby;" said Sir Marmaduke, with a 
 kindling eye ; " had Arthur required fifteen 
 hundred pounds for some worthy and laudable 
 purpose, he should have had them, for he 
 would have deserved them ; but, let the 
 consequence be what it may, I will not com- 
 promise my conscience by encouraging him in 
 a career which can only terminate in ruin, 
 and, worse still, in dishonour. I would rather 
 disown him altogether than feel that 1 had 
 lent a helping hand to his disgrace." 
 
 Lady Willoughby was silenced. Where 
 were now the brilhant air-castles vi^hich she
 
 A FAILURE. 243-, 
 
 had built up ? Was she never to see a Lady 
 Barbara, or an Italian Duchessa, ready to 
 replace her as mistress of the Hall? As 
 regarded the alternative proposed by Sir 
 Marmaduke, she was well aAvare that it had 
 been mentioned merely to annoy and mortify 
 her, for the Willoughby diamonds were as 
 much the objects of the family pride as the 
 centenary oaks and elms on the estate, while 
 her personal property in these precious heir- 
 looms was limited to their use. What was to 
 be done? Arthur had given his I U for 
 the money, and had rashly pledged himself 
 that it should be paid within eight- an d-forty 
 hours. That the resolution of her husband, 
 extreme as it might be, was nevertheless ir- 
 revocable, she understood him too well to 
 doubt ; while she was at the same time 
 conscious (at such a moment, how painfully !) 
 that his military principles led him to look 
 with contempt and disgust upon everything 
 equivocal in its tendency, or disreputable in 
 its nature. On that side there was con- 
 sequently no hope ; and the time was so short, 
 and the emergency so pressing, that in order 
 to preserve the character of her son it was 
 ■necessary that he should act promptly. She
 
 244 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 declared the sturdy veteran to be unnatural 
 and cruel, forgetting that the cruelty was 
 actually on the part of Arthur, who had coldly 
 exposed his parents to the necessity — as he 
 had fondly flattered himself — of paying the 
 penalty of his excesses. 
 
 The poor lady was in despair. In her 
 inordinate love for her son, like many another 
 weak mother, she had sowed the wind only to 
 reap the whirlwind, and it had come at last. 
 Arthur, scarcely entering into life, had wrecked 
 himself at its very threshold, and must be 
 saved by any means. And yet to permit, 
 and actually to sanction his marriage with 
 Mrs. Heathcote's daughter, the girl at whose 
 pretensions she had sneered, and of whose 
 wealth she had made a bitter mock, was a 
 struggle almost beyond her strength ; and the 
 proud woman paused more than once to wipe 
 away the tears wrung from her by mortification 
 and wounded pride, before she regained suffi- 
 cient self-command to report to her anxious 
 son the ill-success of her application to his 
 father. 
 
 " Why, the governor must be crazy ! " was 
 the dutiful comment of the Avrong-headed 
 young man, when he had heard her to an
 
 A FAILURE. 245 
 
 end ; " how can I show my face in society 
 until this cursed money is paid? Well, he 
 will only have himself to thank for what may 
 happen. The fifteen hundred pounds I must 
 and will have. So far I have steered clear of 
 the Jews ; but if he thinks proper to turn me 
 over to their tender mercies, he must have his 
 way." 
 
 "I suggested as much, my poor boy;'' 
 said his mother ; " but he warned me, that 
 if he detected you in any transaction with 
 money-lenders, he would leave you barely 
 what the law would award you at his death, 
 and will away all his funded property else- 
 where." 
 
 " Pshaw ! a mere threat 1 The old felloAV 
 was in a rage ; but it won't last, and he'll 
 think better of it in an hour or two." 
 
 " Do not flatter yourself with any such 
 hope, Arthur;" hastily exclaimed Lady Wil- 
 loughby. "I know and understand your 
 father thoroughly ; and rely on my assurance 
 that, let the consequences of your imprudence 
 be what they may, he will not stretch out a 
 finger to assist you." 
 
 " Then what is to be done ? " was the 
 agitated inquiry.
 
 246 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " I will tell you, Arthur ; and you will 
 believe me when I say, that no motive less 
 powerful than my anxiety to preserve your 
 reputation could induce me to make such a 
 "suggestion, — you must marry your cousin 
 Laura; and you can, by making known the 
 engagement between you, readily raise all the 
 iiioiie}^ that you may require, without involving 
 your father's name in any way. It will be 
 a frightful triumph for my purse-proud sister ; 
 but I will submit even to that humiliation to 
 save you." 
 
 '' Not a bad idea;" was the calm reply. 
 '' I don't at all dislike Laura ; she is pretty 
 and presentable, and I could like her as well, 
 if not better, than any other girl I know. 
 But what v/ould the proud old Baronet say to 
 this arrangement?" 
 
 "It was his original proposition;" said 
 Lady Willoughby bitterly ; " and he cannot 
 consequently refuse to -sanction it. And now, 
 my dear boy, if you can really make up your 
 mind to accept the hand of Laura, the sooner 
 you olTer yourself the better, in order to avoid 
 any esdandre!' 
 
 "Accept the hand of Laura! I would 
 accept many things much more disagreeable
 
 A FAILURE. 247 
 
 in my presenr dilemma;" said Arthur com- 
 placently. 
 
 "Well then, lose no time;" was the ma- 
 ternal rejoinder ; '' in an hour you may arrange 
 everything ; and when you return come to me 
 in the library, and we v^^ill consult together on 
 the next step to be taken in order to settle 
 the other matter. But pray spare me all my 
 odious sister's ecstasies, for I am in no 
 humour to brook them, and shall require all 
 my self-command to bear up against the bitter 
 disappointment to which I am condemned. 
 I had hoped so much from you, Arthur, that 
 I feel half heart-broken." 
 
 " But suppose Laura should refuse me?" 
 "Refuse you I" echoed his mother in- 
 dignantly : " you must be mad even to hint at 
 such a thing. Refuse jjou! No, no; trust 
 me, Mrs. Heathcote knows better than to 
 allow that. Her only feeling will be one of 
 exultation, for where could she expect to se- 
 cure such a husband for her daughter " They 
 have succeeded in making the acquaintance 
 of one man of rank, it is true ; but it is quite 
 evident that he only tolerates them because 
 the two girls have formed a sort of friendship 
 for each other, and she will naturally be glad
 
 248 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 to show him that her daughter has been for- 
 tunate enough to secure the only son and heir 
 of a wealthy Baronet." 
 
 " I trust you may prove a true prophet ; " 
 was the somewhat doubtful response. 
 
 " Really, Arthur, you are too absurd ! " 
 said Lady Willoughby almost angrily. " Do 
 you think that my sister can have forgotten, 
 or will ever forgive, my social advantages ? 
 I know her better, and that she will never 
 suflPer such an opportunity of raising herself 
 to my level in the person of Laura to escape 
 her. And now put on your hat, and make 
 the best of your way to Grosvenor Street and 
 get the business settled, in order that you 
 may have time to make the necessary arrange- 
 ments for liquidating this detestable debt." 
 
 " Well, mother, I'm off; and as I don't 
 altogether dislike the errand, I will do my 
 utmost to realise your hopes." 
 
 " I confess that I feel no particular anx- 
 iety as to the result of your visit;" said his 
 mother with considerable self-complacency ; 
 " but I shall, nevertheless, be glad to see you 
 back again for many reasons." 
 
 As Arthur Willoughby left the house he 
 experienced a sensation of bewilderment which
 
 A FAILURE. 249 
 
 it required all his sense of self-appreciation to 
 overcome. That he should be urged by his 
 mother to ask the hand of his cousin under 
 any circumstances, appeared to him so extra- 
 ordinaiy, that he could scarcely reconcile the 
 fact to himself ; and, moreover, he had never 
 hitherto believed that his indulgent old father 
 would do more than resent for a few hours 
 any shortcomings of which he might be guilty. 
 He was an only son — an only child; and he 
 had hghtly and carelessly presumed upon this 
 fact until he had deluded himself into the 
 conviction that he enjoyed perfect impunity, 
 and might set all parental rule at defiance. 
 However, as we have before hinted, he had 
 already had vague aspirations of his own, in- 
 volving the possession of the fair Laura and 
 her long-hoarded thousands, and was not by 
 any means disposed to \dsit very heavily upon 
 himself the error which had so opportunely 
 afforded him the occasion of preferring his 
 claim to both. 
 
 Mrs. Heathcote was at home and alone, 
 busily engaged at her writing-table ; but her 
 greeting to her nephew was most cordial. 
 
 '' I have intruded on you at a very un- 
 fashionable hour, my dear aunt ; " he said, as
 
 250 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 lie took a seat near her ; " but I know that 
 you will forgive me when 1 state the object 
 of my visit. I can endure the suspense to 
 which I have hitherto condemned myself no 
 longer. You cannot require to be told that 
 I have loved my cousin Laura for years, and 
 I am now come to ask your influence in my 
 favour." 
 
 "I am sure that Laura has returned your 
 regard, Arthur ; " was the smiling response ; 
 " but love ! you cannot be serious when you 
 talk of love. What would your mother say 
 when she heard that you had been rash enough 
 to volunteer the contamination of a marriage 
 with the daughter of a merchant?" 
 
 ''Oh!" said the young man gaily; "I 
 am supplied with all the proper credentials. 
 I am duly authorised to make the proposal; 
 and you may rest assured that I will do every- 
 thing in my power to render my pretty Laura 
 happy." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it ; I am quite con- 
 vinced of it;" acquiesced Mrs. Heathcote; 
 "and it is therefore unfortunate that you should 
 not have made up your mind to ask the hand 
 of your cousin somewhat sooner." 
 
 " Surely we are both young enough, aunt,
 
 A FAILURE. 251 
 
 even now, to take the cares of matrimony 
 upon us?" 
 
 '' Too vouncj, Arthur ; too vouusr — at least 
 you are; " was the exulting but cautious reply ; 
 •' and I really wonder that Lady Willougliby 
 should have consented to your volunteering to 
 encounter those cares at so earlv an as^e. It 
 is, however, verv flatterino: both to Laura and 
 myself that she should have done so ; and at 
 the same time very unfortunate, as my daugh- 
 ter is no longer in a position to spare you the 
 mortification of a refusal." 
 
 "A refusal aunt?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear Ai'thur, a refusal ; for Laura 
 is already enoraored." 
 
 " Laura — engaged — and to whom?" 
 
 " To the Earl of Ravenswood I I had in- 
 tended," pursued the lady, erecting her tali 
 person into a perpendicularity which appeared 
 to add several inches to her height ; "to have 
 kept her secret for the present; but, under 
 existing circumstances, I feel it due to you to 
 let you into the secret. In a few weeks she 
 will be Countess of Ravenswood. Do me the 
 favour to express to your mother my deep 
 sense of the honour which she was willing to 
 confer upon us, and to inform her at the
 
 252 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 same time of the reasons which compel us to 
 decHne it." 
 
 "Then I am a lost man!" murmured 
 Arthur Willoughby, for the first time realising 
 the whole danger of his position. 
 
 "No, no; not so bad as that;" said his 
 triumphant companion, with affected sympa- 
 thy ; " there is more than one attractive young 
 lady in your exclusive set, who will no doubt 
 be happy to accept that of Avhich we are 
 no longer free to avail ourselves. The fu- 
 tm-e Sir Arthur Willouo;hbv will be at no 
 loss to console himself for a first disappoint- 
 ment." 
 
 " Oh, aunt, if you only knew " faltered 
 
 the young man, as he buried his face in his 
 hands. 
 
 " Nay, nay ; it is but the old story after 
 all;" interrupted Mrs. Heathcote, wdth a tran- 
 quil self-complacency, almost maddening to 
 contemplate ; " but I really had no idea that 
 you cared so much about Laura." 
 
 " I do love her — love her as truly as I am 
 capable of loving anything, though not per- 
 haps as she deserves to be loved;" exclaimed 
 Willoughby impetuously ; ''and now, now 
 when I feel that I have no hope on earth save
 
 A FAILURE. 253 
 
 in you, will you promise me to believe this 
 assurance before I tell you more?" 
 
 " Arthur, what can you mean ?" 
 
 " Will you only say that you give me credit 
 for the affection Avhich I have long felt for 
 my cousin ? Will you admit that I have 
 never failed in respect and regard for your- 
 self, even when I have been reproached by 
 your own sister for what she termed a 
 want of self-respect? Will you believe that 
 I am not utterly worthless, and that I looked 
 forward to a marriage with Laura as the 
 greatest happiness I could know in this life, 
 if I confide to you the wretched position 
 in which I am now placed by my own 
 folly?" 
 
 " Speak on, my dear boy ; " was the earnest 
 reply, " and fear nothing." 
 
 The humbled young man told his tale 
 frankly, fully, and without the slightest 
 reservation; and Mrs. Heathcote at once com- 
 prehended the policy of her sister. 
 
 "Thank you, Arthur;" she said, as he 
 concluded ; " the enigma is now fully solved. 
 I do not blame you in this unworthy trans- 
 action, for I am fully convinced that you love 
 Laura ; and I am even prepared to admit that
 
 254 A LIFE-STllUGGLE. 
 
 I felt satisfied montlis ago that, had it de- 
 pended on yourself, you would have offered 
 her your hand. I am, therefore, willing to 
 exonerate you altogether, and to give you 
 credit for having rejoiced at an opportunity 
 of offering yourself to her acceptance. I 
 cannot, however, refrain from expressing my 
 opinion of the mean and unworthy con- 
 duct of Sir Marmaduke and Lady Wil- 
 loughby, who, the one to save his money, 
 and the other to screen the disgrace of her 
 son, could coldly countenance such a viola- 
 tion of good faith and right feeling. Enough, 
 however, on that subject. Your honour is 
 in peril; and although I may resent their 
 treachery and selfishness, I will not sufier 
 my sister's son to lose his good name for 
 a few paltry hundreds. Here, Arthur;'' she 
 continued, taking her check-book from a 
 drawer in her escrutoire, and hastily filling 
 up one of its pages ; " here is what you re- 
 quire to redeem your honour. All I ask in 
 return is that, should you be ever again 
 
 tempted to " 
 
 " Never, aunt, never 1 I swear to you ; " 
 exclaimed the young man, ardently kissing 
 the hand which was extended to him ; " and
 
 A FAILURE. 255 
 
 oh ! I intreat of you to do me justice. Had 
 
 I not loved Laura " 
 
 " I quite understand your meaning, my 
 poor boy;" said Mrs. Heathcote, overcome by 
 his ao;itation ; " and had Laura loved you in 
 return, however much she might have grieved 
 over the cause of your difficulty, its effect vrould 
 have been utterly unimportant. But these 
 considerations are, as I have already explained, 
 under existing circumstances, idle ; and you 
 must endeavour to forget all the events of to- 
 day. You have just learnt a bitter lesson, of 
 which you have sense enough to profit, or I 
 
 shall be srreatlv mistaken in vou. And novv- 
 
 ~ t/ •/ 
 
 go ; we have exhausted the subject of our 
 interview, and shall, I hope, at our next 
 meeting, find one more pleasant to us both. 
 Say nothing to Laura of what has passed 
 between us." 
 
 " And you will really keep my unworthy 
 secret ? " 
 
 '' Faithfully." 
 
 " My good, my generous aunt " 
 
 Good morning, Arthur 
 
 O' 
 
 Li another moment he was gone. Hum- 
 bled, but happy — sorrowing, but saved — 
 with a truer appreciation of himself and his 
 own errors than he had ever before felt.
 
 256 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 Two days afterwards Mrs. Heathcote re- 
 ceived a sealed packet, w^hich reached her 
 through a servant in the Willoughby livery. 
 It contained her own check, with a cold ac- 
 knowledgment from the Baronet.
 
 A DEPARTURE. 257 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A DEPARTURE. 
 
 As the period appointed for Lord Ravens- 
 wood's marriage approached the wretchedness 
 of poor Marston increased, until his appear- 
 ance became painfully changed, and at last 
 attracted the attention, and excited the anxiety, 
 of his guardian. 
 
 " Ferdinand ; " he said on one occasion ; 
 ** were I not so well acquainted with the moral 
 energy of your character, I should be tempted 
 to believe that the cares consequent on your 
 recent accession to a fine fortune had proved 
 too much for your philosophy. You are really 
 looking extremely ill." 
 
 " I am afraid that I am not well ; " was 
 the reply; " and I was about to request 
 your permission to run over to the Continent 
 for a few weeks, in order to try the efifect of 
 change." 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 " My permission, my dear boy, cannot be 
 needed in any case ; but I confess that I sball 
 feel your absence at this precise moment to 
 be peculiarly unfortunate;'' said the Earl. 
 " Oblige me by seeing Dr. Holland ; and 
 should he decide that there is no immediate 
 necessity for your departure, by at least de- 
 ferring your expedition until after my mar- 
 riage." 
 
 " I think I understood that it was your 
 intention to start for Ravenswood Castle the 
 same day ; " replied Marston ; " and, such being 
 the case, as the event of the morning with all 
 its splendid ceremonials would, I fear, prove 
 too exciting for my present state of languor, 
 I confess that I would rather pray for your 
 happiness in a more tranquil manner." 
 
 " Well, well;" was the rejoinder of his 
 companion ; " we will hear what Dr. Hol- 
 land has to say upon the subject. Do not 
 decide hastily, as I cannot bear the idea of 
 your leaving me just now. Come, put on 
 your hat, and we will stroll down to Laurie's, 
 and look at the park-phaeton which is to 
 precede us to Ravenswood, and then on to 
 Tattersall's to see if he has secured the cream- 
 coloured ponies he mentioned to me. Leave
 
 A DEPARTURE. 259 
 
 your cares behind in your carpet-bag; and 
 forget for an hour or two that there are such 
 beings as lawyers in the world." 
 
 Ferdinand silently complied; but the 
 unusually high spirits of his guardian wore 
 and wearied him ; and he became more 
 anxious than ever to escape a trial, which he 
 felt to be beyond his strength. 
 
 On learnino; the intended marriasre of 
 Enna, to which he had at once, and with 
 considerable satisfaction, given his consent, the 
 Earl had suggested to Laura that she should 
 induce her friend to give her hand to Carlyon 
 at the same time and place — a request 
 which she gladly and urgently urged, and 
 which was eagerly seconded by the young 
 man himself; but when Enna, in her turn, 
 asked the sanction of her brother to this ar- 
 rangement, he resolutely refused to permit it. 
 
 " You must be quite aware, my dear 
 sister ;" he said affectionately ; " that I would 
 not indulge in such a display of authority 
 from caprice ; and therefore, when I tell you 
 that I have a strong personal objection to the 
 scheme, simple as it may appear, I feel con- 
 vinced that you will abandon it." 
 
 " Of course I will, Eerdinand, if you think
 
 260 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 it right that I should do so;" rephed Miss 
 Greville, cheerfully ; " only assure me of one 
 thing, and that is, that your regard for Au- 
 gustus is not diminished." 
 
 "Ear from it, my dear girl. I shall be 
 proud and happy to claim him as a brother ; 
 a fact of which he will become thoroughly 
 aware when he ascertains the arrangements 
 that I have made. I have a presentimient, 
 Enna — nay, I am perfectly convinced — that 
 I shall never marry. You see that we have 
 now changed places in this strange and mys- 
 terious vortex, which we call Life ; and, con- 
 sequently, Carlyon and yourself will be my 
 sole care and anxiety. You are admirably 
 suited to each other ; and I shall hope to pass 
 many peaceful hours in your society. You 
 have ever been most dear to me, my own 
 little sister; and I feel that henceforward I 
 shall love you even more fondly than I have 
 hitherto done : but, meanwhile, I have men- 
 tioned to Lord Ravenswood my wish to pass 
 a few months abroad." 
 
 " Abroad, Ferdinand ! but surely not be- 
 fore this marriage has taken place ?" 
 
 "Yes, dear, immediately. My mind has 
 been so much harassed of late, that I fear my
 
 A DEPARTURE. 261 
 
 health is giving way; and I know you well 
 enough to be sure that you would not wish 
 me to tax it still more heavily for the mere 
 enjoyment of a bridal pageant." 
 
 Enna raised her eyes so suddenly to her 
 brother's face that the bitter smile with which 
 he had spoken was still quivering on his pale 
 lips, and the truth became evident to her at 
 once. 
 
 "You are right, quite right, Ferdinand;" 
 she said hurriedly, as she strove to force back 
 her tears. " You are looking ill, very ill, and 
 you have already exerted yourself too much. 
 How I w'ish that you would allow me to ac- 
 company you ! " 
 
 " Impossible, my love ! " was the hurried 
 reply. " You could not desert your friend at 
 such a moment, nor would it be respectful to 
 the Earl. My absence will be an enforced 
 one, while yours could only be attributed 
 entirely to inclination. You, moreover, forget 
 Carlyon, who might not, perhaps, approve of 
 your enacting the demoiselle errante so short 
 a time before your own marriage." 
 
 "No doubt you are right;" said Enna; 
 " but suppose your health should not improve, 
 and you should be lying on a sick-bed, alone.
 
 262 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 and in a strange land, while I am at home 
 surrounded by friends, and involved in plea- 
 sure? Oh, brother! brother!" she exclaimed 
 impetuously, as she flung her arms about his 
 neck and burst into an agony of tears ; " it 
 would break my heart!" 
 
 The poor girl was quite sincere as she 
 uttered these words ; but, unconsciously, she 
 was also thankful for some pretext to give way 
 to the emotion which was gradually overcoming 
 all her efforts to suppress it ; and she lay 
 sobbing upon his shoulder as he soothed and 
 consoled her with the assurance that, should 
 he derive no benefit from the change, he would 
 at once return to England and take up his 
 abode for a time at Marston Court, until 
 gradually she became more calm ; for she 
 felt a conviction that in expatriating himself 
 for a season he was acting wisely and well. 
 
 All doubts of his love for Laura were at 
 an end for ever ; and yet she asked herself, 
 how could that fact be reconciled with the 
 anxiety which he had evinced to see her the 
 wife of Lord Ravenswood ? This was a pro- 
 blem that she could not solve. She knew 
 nothing of the terrible secret of which he was 
 the victim ; and she felt her utter incapability
 
 A DEPARTURE. 263 
 
 to explain a line of conduct v.hich, as she sadty 
 reflected, it appeared nevertheless equalh' im- 
 possible to justify. 
 
 The nature of Enna Greville was eminently 
 trusting and affectionate, and even her love 
 for Carlyon paled at times before her anxiety 
 for her brother. But her position ^Yas an 
 onerous one : she felt that to struffQ-ie ao:ainst 
 bis will, as well as against external circum- 
 stances, ignorant as she was of the causes 
 which had involved him in his present unhappy 
 situation, was impossible. That Ferdinand 
 could have brought this trial upon himself 
 from any misconduct of his own, was so 
 monstrous a thought, that she would instantly 
 have spurned it should it ever have suggested 
 itself. What, therefore, could it mean? for 
 most assuredly, judging only from appearances, 
 he bad acted both cruelly and dishonourably. 
 But no, no ; of one thing at least she was quite 
 certain, — that whatever might be the feehngs 
 of her deceived and outraged friend, those of 
 her brother were no less poignant ; and, con- 
 sequently, be the mystery what it might, that 
 he was " more sinned against than sinning." 
 
 Fortunately for Ferdinand, the opinion of 
 Dr. Holland, after a professional conversation
 
 264 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 with his patient, was favourable to his wishes. 
 Mr. Greville-Marston must not only, he de- 
 clared, leave England and try the effect of a 
 more genial climate, but he must do so with- 
 out further delay, as the state of his health 
 was most unsatisfactory, and betrayed, as he 
 feared, incipient threatenings of consumption. 
 
 "His nerves have evidently been over- 
 taxed, my lord;" he said, in reply to the 
 earnest questioning of the Earl, when the 
 young man had left the room. " His whole 
 nervous system is disordered, and the action 
 of his heart is far from being healthy. He 
 requires change, rest, and gentle excitement, 
 such as a total absence from his late course 
 of disquiet, be it what it may, cannot fail to 
 afford." 
 
 " It is altogether inexplicable to me ; " ex- 
 claimed Lord Ravens wood ; "as, far from 
 having had to encounter any annoyance, he 
 has lately come into possession of a fine for- 
 tune." 
 
 " Ha ! over-excitement" — murmured the 
 physician. 
 
 "I do not think so. His mind is too 
 well regulated, and his nature too manly, for 
 such weakness ;" was the reply. " But do you
 
 A DEPARTURE. 265 
 
 really think, my dear sir, that his immediate 
 departure is imperative? I have particular 
 reasons — ^very particular reasons — for wishing 
 him to remain under my roof another month, 
 if the delay would not involve danger " 
 
 " I fear that it w^ould." 
 
 " Then I have not another word to say ; 
 he must go, and go at once. I would not 
 defer his journey for another day on any ac- 
 count. His life is far too precious, not only 
 to myself, but to all who know him." 
 
 "In that case, my lord;" said the skilful 
 and kind-hearted practitioner ; " you have 
 come to a wise decision, for there is evidently 
 no time to lose." 
 
 The Earl buried his face in his hands, and, 
 had he been a w^oman, he would have wept, 
 for Ferdinand was as dear to him as a son, 
 and those words of doom fell upon his ear like 
 a death-knell ! 
 
 Alas, alike for human science and for 
 human penetration ! how the heart, a mystery 
 even to itself, mocks at both ! Who can 
 fathom the unfathomable ? The fetters of the 
 slave are visible, but the iron which has eaten 
 into the soul is seen by no eye, not even by 
 that of the sufferer. Our least and lightest
 
 266 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 anguish is that which we can handle, discuss, 
 and estimate at its actual amount. 
 
 It was decided that Marston should leave 
 town within the week ; and while his anxious 
 and disappointed guardian was superintending 
 every imaginary arrangement for his comfort 
 and convenience during his absence, and poor 
 Enna was weeping over this her first separa- 
 tion from her idolised brother, Ferdinand 
 himself was closeted day after day with the 
 solicitor of the Earl, making such a final set- 
 tlement of his newly-acquired fortune as must 
 secure the worldly prosperity of those who 
 were most dear to him. 
 
 He might never return. Who could say ? 
 He was even more than half resolved that he 
 would continue a wanderer for life. Why 
 should he revisit England? Why should he 
 bring back a seared and blighted heart to 
 sadden the happiness of a sister whom he 
 fondly loved, and to reproach his benefactor? 
 What had he now to do with joy or glad- 
 ness ? What was the future to him ? Like 
 the far-oif past, sterile and dishonoured 1 
 The Alpha and Omega of his existence suited 
 each other w^ell; his father's crime and his own 
 duplicity made up his all of destiny. The
 
 A DEPARTURE. 267 
 
 intervening period was a mere dream, a 
 vision, an unreality, full of high aspirings, 
 noble efforts, and glimpses of an Eden from 
 which he was shut out for ever ; and now that 
 he had awakened from the delusion, he must 
 forget it altogether : forget it, or degenerate 
 into a fiend. 
 
 And meanwhile, day by day, the hectic 
 deepened on his cheeks, his eye burnt with 
 a fierce and glassy light, his step became 
 unsteady, and his voice sharp and tremulous. 
 It was, indeed, time that he should look his 
 last upon those whose anxious glances and 
 tear-fraught tones quickened the pulsations 
 of his heart, and over-excited his weakened 
 frame. 
 
 His destination was Bagnieres, and the 
 presumed period of his absence was six 
 months. 
 
 In less than three weeks Laura w^ould be 
 the wife of Lord Ravenswood, and then 
 
 What then ? There are none living now, 
 who, like the prophets of old, are enabled to 
 look into futurity.
 
 268 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 A BRIDE. 
 
 Miss HEATHCOTEhad been Countess of Ravens- 
 wood an entire month, throughout the whole 
 of which period she had struggled to persuade 
 herself that she rejoiced over the absence of 
 Marston — nay, that his very name was hateful 
 to her ; and yet, poor young creature ! how 
 anxiously she hung upon every word when 
 he was the theme of her husband's conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 The noble pair had passed the time in 
 solitude at Ravenswood Castle, while Enna 
 had remained in town under the guardianship 
 of Mrs. Heathcote, and the novelty and 
 grandeur of everything about her had hitherto 
 apparently amused and interested the girlish 
 bride. But although the eye might wander 
 delightedly over the objects about it, and the
 
 A BRIDE. 26^ 
 
 voice testify to their beauty, the heart remained 
 cold and untouched, save only by the filial 
 affection and sincere respect which she felt 
 for her husband. 
 
 The marriage had no sooner taken place 
 than the Earl became more impressed than 
 ever by a sense of its utter incompatibility. 
 What had he done? What was to be the 
 result of his selfishness and imprudence ? 
 How could a mere empty name repay the 
 beautiful and girlish creature by his side for 
 the sacrifice of all the brightest visions of her 
 opening life ? And what else could he ofi'er 
 in exchange for her youth, her beauty, and 
 her wealth? 
 
 As these self-accusing inquiries rose in 
 his mind, his determination slowly formed 
 itself. "Poor child!" he murmured beneath 
 his breath, as Laura, wearied with the length 
 and the rapidity of the day's journey, had 
 sunk into a deep sleep upon the cushions of 
 the carriage; "Poor victim of a mother's 
 ambition and a husband's heartlessness — for 
 it was heartless to save myself by sacrificing 
 you — I will struggle to do more than replace 
 the parent you have lost. Henceforth you 
 shall be to me as sacred as the flame guarded
 
 270 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 by the Vestals ! I will be your friend and 
 father, your counsellor and guide ; you shall 
 not shed a tear which I will not wipe away ; 
 you shall not form a wish that I will not seek 
 to gratify ; you shall be the darling of my old 
 age — the one pet lamb, dearer to me than 
 all the flock beside. I will forget that we 
 have stood side by side at the altar ; I will 
 forget the holy vows which we simultaneously 
 uttered; I will remember nothing but that 
 you are my cherished child ; the hope and 
 stay of my declining years." 
 
 And so had passed the month spent at 
 Ravenswood Castle. The new Countess was 
 still young enough to appreciate all the charm 
 of novelty ; and she drove her cream-coloured 
 ponies through the avenues of the park with 
 a grace and skill which delighted her husband; 
 seconded all the zealous efforts of the Rector 
 to ameliorate the condition of the poor, with 
 an earnestness that convinced him of her 
 sincerity ; won the goodwill of the tenants by 
 the gracious urbanity of her manner; and 
 was declared by the few old retainers of the 
 family, who still remembered the marriage of 
 their late lord, to be as handsome, as digni- 
 fied, and as generous as his bride, Avho had
 
 A BRIDE. 271 
 
 been the daughter of the Duke of Broadlands. 
 But, notwithstanding all these " golden 
 opinions/' the little heart was less joyous 
 than it should have been : all looked so 
 bright about this favoured child of fortune. 
 She did not vaguely express a wish that was 
 not eagerly fulfilled — look upon a face that 
 did not meet her with a smile ; and yet, what 
 was it which made her yearn for sohtude, 
 even in her gayest and happiest moments ? 
 It could not be the memory of Ferdinand? 
 Oh, no ! tliat she felt to be impossible : for 
 what was Ferdinand to her? Was not the 
 Earl all that was kind and affectionate ? Yes ! 
 she was now able to understand all that she 
 had lost when bereaved of a father's love at 
 so early an age. It was so pleasant to be 
 indulged in all her httle graceful caprices, 
 without one word of reproach or remon- 
 strance ; and to feel that a delicious sense of 
 reliance upon a stronger head and a stronger 
 heart than her own relieved her of all sense 
 of personal responsibility. Of course she was 
 happy, perfectly happy; but, from some cause 
 or other, she soon wearied even of her happi- 
 ness, and yearned for something to which she 
 could give no name. There was an aching
 
 272 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 void in her heart — a skeleton in the closet 
 of her soul — a skull at the banquet of her 
 content ; and she did not dare to ask herself 
 why it was so. 
 
 Alas ! Laura involuntarily, and almost 
 unconsciously, still loved Ferdinand — the 
 despised and detested Ferdinand, whom she 
 had vowed to herself to expel for ever from 
 her thoughts. Had he been within reach, 
 she might perhaps have crushed him by her 
 disdain, or humiliated him by her indifference : 
 but he was absent, she knew not where ; ill, 
 she knew not how tended ; alone, she knew 
 not how penitent and miserable. She re- 
 spected him no longer, for he had forfeited 
 his plighted word, and he had wounded alike 
 her heart and her vanity; therefore she con- 
 sidered herself privileged, and almost com- 
 pelled, to hate him : and so, had she confided 
 the cause of her secret uneasiness either to 
 you, reader, or to myself, she would have 
 declared that she did, and perhaps she would 
 have believed herself to be sincere in making 
 the assertion. 
 
 The " honeymoon " was over. Lord 
 Ravenswood faintly proposed a short sojourn 
 on the Continent, but the suggestion was sq
 
 A BRIDE. 273 
 
 hurriedly and earnestly negatived by his 
 young wife that he did not repeat it. 
 
 " I thought that we might have seen what 
 progress poor Ferdinand is making towards 
 convalescence ; " he said almost sadly ; " for his 
 letters are far from satisfactory ; but as you 
 are so anxious for the society of your mother 
 and Enna, dearest, I will write to-day and 
 urge them to join us here, unless you have 
 formed some more agreeable project." 
 
 " Thank you ! " was the reply, as she 
 raised her head from his shoulder, and pressed 
 her lips upon his forehead ; " that is precisely 
 what I should prefer. My dear mother will 
 be so charmed with this noble old place ; and 
 as you tell me that Enna has never seen it, 
 only imagine the delight with which I shall 
 introduce them both to all its beauties ! 
 Besides, the foundation of my school-house is 
 scarcely laid ; and were I to run away from 
 Eavenswood now, I should leave a host of 
 duties unfulfilled." 
 
 " As you will, darling ;" was the rejoinder 
 
 ,of the Earl, while he gazed with admiration 
 
 on the flushed cheek and gleaming eye of his 
 
 girl-bride. " I, too, have many duties to fulfil 
 
 at Ravenswood; and, after so many years of 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 enforced exile from ray hereditary home, I 
 shall rejoice to prove to those who are entitled 
 to my care, that I have not forgotten their 
 claim on my attention and indulgence." 
 
 We are sorry to be compelled to admit 
 that the young Countess did not comprehend 
 more of this affectionate compliance with her 
 wishes than that she had, as usual, carried 
 her point. Her thoughts had already wan- 
 dered away, and a feeling of sadness had 
 crept over her. Why did she refuse to leave 
 England? What was England to her ? Was not 
 Ferdinand alone and sick, in a strange land? 
 Were we not taught to forgive injuries, and to 
 return good for evil ? How dare she, fallible 
 as she was, to take vengeance into her own 
 hands ? Had she not already been taught to 
 feel that she was nothing to Mr. Greville- 
 Marston ? And should she not have pride 
 enough to teach Mr. Greville-Marston, in his 
 turn, that he was nothing to her beyond the 
 ward of her husband ? — aye, her husband ! — 
 that fact was enough. What could they 
 now ever have in common ? He was Enna's 
 brother; and loving her as she did, she had 
 acted ungenerously, for she had deprived the 
 poor wanderer of the presence and support
 
 A BRIDE. i: / O 
 
 of the Earl — that presence and that support 
 to which she herself attached so high a value. 
 
 Poor little sophist ! She did not, for one 
 moment, recognise the lurking demon who 
 was playing such wild antics in her inex- 
 perienced imagination ; she did not see the 
 shadow upon the wall, where the doom of 
 earthly trial was one day to be traced. 
 
 Several more weeks were spent in the 
 seclusion of Raven sv\^ood, nor were they with- 
 out their peculiar enjoyment to all parties. 
 Laura wept with delight as she once more 
 embraced her mother and her friend. Mrs. 
 Heathcote trod with a lofty step and a proud 
 eye the stately halls which she had restored 
 to their legitimate owner ; Enna was to be 
 speedily foUov/ed by Carlyon ; and the Earl 
 was happy in the happiness of all about 
 him. There was so much to be seen and 
 admired by the guests, so much to be asked 
 and answered, that the whole world beyond 
 appeared to be ignored at Kavenswood, save 
 one of its denizens. Need we say t/iat one 
 was Ferdinand? Amid all her own bright 
 anticipations, Enna dwelt with constant and 
 painful tenacity upon the solitary and un- 
 solaced position of her dear and only brother;
 
 276 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 Lord Ravenswood, self-reproachful, and anx- 
 ious to hear himself justified by one whom he 
 loved as a son, was pining to recall him, and 
 yet dreading, from the tone of his letters, to 
 make such a proposal ; while Mrs. Heathcote, 
 amid all her triumph, could not overcome a 
 vague suspicion that she was not altogether 
 unconnected with the absence of the melan- 
 choly exile. Even Carlyon, engrossed as he 
 appeared to be by the society of his promised 
 bride, often found himself dwelling almost 
 with irritation upon the inopportune expatria- 
 tion of Greville, by which his marriage was 
 indefinitely postponed ; and thus, after a time, 
 a sense of weariness stole over the whole 
 party, which ultimately induced Mrs. Heath- 
 cote to suggest a removal to town. 
 
 The season was about to commence. The 
 young Countess was to be presented. There 
 were a thousand arrangements which required 
 her attention and supervision ; and, since the 
 whole truth must be told, when she had once 
 examined and exulted over the splendours of 
 Ravenswood Castle, she was yearning to dis- 
 play her ennobled daughter to the admiration 
 of the fashionable world of London. 
 
 Latterly, moreover, the health of Laura
 
 A BRIDE. 277 
 
 had appeared to decline ; she was nervous and 
 restless, and there was an unquiet glancing of 
 the eye, and flushing of the cheek, which did 
 not escape the notice of her mother. 
 
 " Tell me, and tell me frankly, Laura;" 
 she said on one occasion ; '' are you happy ? " 
 
 " Perfectly happy, my dear mother. Why 
 should you ask so strange a question ? " 
 
 " Simply because there is a tremor in 
 your manner, and a want of interest in all 
 about you, very unnatural under your circum- 
 stances;" replied Mrs. Heathcote. "What 
 can you desire that you do not possess ? Any 
 young girl but yourself would be wild with 
 happiness. Look at the splendour of your 
 new home ; remember the high rank of your 
 husband " 
 
 " Far less would have contented me ;" was 
 the languid rejoinder. 
 
 " It cannot, surely be, that the apparently 
 devoted affection of Lord Ravenswood is not 
 sincere, and that in private " 
 
 " I do entreat, my dear mother, that you 
 will discard every suspicion of the kind. The 
 Earl is one of the best and noblest of men ;" 
 eagerly exclaimed Laura. 
 
 " Then I must say that you are not only
 
 278 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 unreasonable, but even ungrateful, that you 
 do not accept in a different spirit the happi- 
 ness I have secured for you;" said Mrs. 
 Heathcote with considerable asperity. 
 
 The poor young Countess answered only 
 by a smothered sigh. 
 
 " Think of the mortification of Lady Wil- 
 loughby;" pursued the short-sighted and 
 egotistical mother ; " the Baronet's wife, who 
 did all in her power to crush us. Should you 
 not be thankful that we can now crush her in 
 our turn ? I should like to ascertain what 
 she will say when she hears that the Duchess 
 of Woburnville has consented to present you ! 
 She will, at all events learn a bitter lesson, by 
 which I trust that she may profit." 
 
 Alas ! not even the hope of mortifying her 
 malignant aunt could bring a smile to the lip 
 of Laura; the Ravenswood diamonds, which 
 were in the skilful hands of Hunt and Eoskell, 
 with sundrv mao-nificent additions suo-ffested 
 and provided by her mother, were to her mere 
 baubles ; the proud name, which fell on the 
 maternal ear like a strain of witching music, 
 had no harmony for her ; the present was a 
 tedious pageantry, the future a blank. Her 
 respect for Lord Ravenswood increased daily ;
 
 A BRIDE. 279 
 
 to him she chmg for protection and counsel ; 
 and although she could not perchance have 
 sympathised with wife-life sensibility in his 
 joys, she was ever ready to share his anxieties 
 and his cares. She even tried to believe that 
 she loved him ; but that was a delusion : she 
 felt towards him both gratitude and esteem ; 
 but the young heart was already exhausted, 
 the fresh stream was already tainted, and the 
 overflowings of its turbid current were bitter 
 as the waters of Marah. 
 
 The ice-crust had gathered upon the sur- 
 face, but the lava-tide was boiling beneath, 
 unseen and unguessed at.
 
 280 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 AND THE " OUTS." 
 
 The presentation of the young, beautiful, and 
 wealthy Countess of Eavenswood on her 
 marriage, created, what is called in fashionable 
 cant, " a sensation." A few titled dowagers, 
 with very marriageable daughters to provide 
 for, and a few more than marriageable belles, 
 w^ho had flirted and fluttered through their 
 four or five seasons, and were beginning to 
 comprehend that a ball or a rout miglit detain 
 them occasionally too long from their beds, 
 afiected to sneer at the girl-bride, and to pity 
 the infatuation of the "poor dear old Earl;" 
 but, alas for their puny passions ! the murmur 
 was vox clamantis in deserto ; it neither de- 
 creased the graciousness of royalty, nor the 
 admiration of the courtly crowd. More than 
 one titled and antiquated coxcomb, who had 
 considered his youth far too precious to be
 
 THE "ins" and the " OUTS.' 281 
 
 shared with any woman, felt a personal tri- 
 umph in the marriage of Lord Ravenswood, 
 as he gazed upon the pale and lovely girl who 
 leant upon his arm after she had quitted the 
 Presence, and received the warm congratula- 
 tions of the stately but friendly Duchess, who 
 had acted as her fashionable sponsor ; for why 
 should they not in their turn achieve a similar 
 conquest, and mate their grizzling locks and 
 incipient rheumatism as brilliantly as he had 
 done? Shrewd fathers of families smiled 
 grimly as they reflected that so dangerous a 
 rival to their own establishment - seeking 
 daughters as the beautiful heiress, had so 
 soon been put "out of the market;" while a 
 host of younger sons, (or, in high-bred argot, 
 " detrimentals,") rejoiced over the advent of so 
 bright a star in their peculiar horizon, as they 
 glanced from her jewel-cinctured brow to the 
 time-lined forehead of her lord. 
 
 And so Laura made her way through the 
 ghttering throng, sparkling with diamonds, 
 draped like a sylph in zephyr-like gauze and 
 flowers, and chnging half-nervously to the 
 support of her proud and exulting husband, 
 to whom the Lady of the Land had vouchsafed 
 a brief remark, which had brought the warm
 
 282 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 blood to his cheeks, and deepened the bow 
 with which he ah'eady bent before her. 
 
 Where was now the ridicule that he had 
 so nervously anticipated? The breath of 
 Majesty had dispersed it for ever. 
 
 " My lord ;" had been the graceful murmur 
 of the Queen ; " I thank you for having added 
 so bright an ornament to my court." And 
 that flattering murmur was in another instant 
 the theme of every tongue. 
 
 The progress of the noble couple was a 
 slow one, for all present who could claim any 
 acquaintanceship with the Earl crowded about 
 him to solicit an introduction to his bride ; 
 and could Mrs. Heathcote only have wit- 
 nessed that scene, she would have considered 
 it cheaply bought by the happiness of a life- 
 time. 
 
 But the warmest greeting offered to Laura 
 was that of Lady Willoughby. The excite- 
 ment produced by her "niece, the young 
 Countess," flushed her cheeks even through 
 their rouge, and the family brilliants quivered 
 upon her brow and bosom like the pendents 
 of a chandelier. True, she had jested bitterly 
 to her dear two hundred friends at the absurd 
 pretensions of the merchant's daughter, and
 
 THE " ins" and the " OUTS." 283 
 
 had shed tears of ra2:e as she ascertained that 
 the heiress's hand and fortune had been refused 
 to her son, when he had condescended to ask 
 them in his necessity ; while he had received 
 in heu thereof an ahus, which she had induced 
 Sir Marmaduke, incensed as he was, to return 
 to the donor ; but she was too good a tactician 
 to suffer such memories as these to cloud 
 her brow, or to embitter her words, when 
 she saw " dear Laura" the observed of all 
 observers. 
 
 Poor Lady Willcughby ! She had been 
 struggling ever since her marriage to escape 
 from the fourth-rate circle of fashionable life, 
 in order to take her place in the first ; and she 
 was keenly conscious that, should her yearning 
 ever be satisfied, it could only be through the 
 medium of her risrht honourable niece. It is 
 true that she had sundry disagreeable mis- 
 cjivinsfs as to the manner in which the newlv- 
 made and noble bride might meet her affec- 
 tionate advances, and the directions which she 
 might have received from her hitherto despised 
 mother in the event of such an emergency; 
 but Lady Willougliby was a woman of nerve, 
 and had been elbowing her way through the 
 world's crowd too many years to let the ball
 
 284 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 of fortune bound past her without endeavouring 
 to clutch it; and, after all, the Countess of 
 R-avenswood was her niece, her own sister's 
 child, and she had an undoubted right to 
 exhibit her claim upon her affection. There 
 was, consequently, no appearance of doubt or 
 hesitation in her look or bearing as she 
 advanced and seized the hand of her " sweet 
 Laura," and expressed her delight at the un- 
 qualified success of her first public reception. 
 Nothing could possibly have been better — 
 nothing more satisfactory — save, indeed, that 
 she must confess it would have been gratifying 
 to her feelings, as her nearest relative, and 
 one who had always loved her, to have been 
 selected as her diaper one on the occasion. 
 However, it was of course natural that, under 
 all circumstances, she should yield the pas to 
 a Duchess, and therefore she would not 
 reproach her ; but, as an earnest of her perfect 
 acquiescence in the arrangement, would request 
 her to present her to Her Grace before she left 
 the palace, in order that she might tender her 
 own thanks for the honour which she had 
 conferred upon the family. 
 
 Laura was overcome by the torrent of 
 words by which she was thus suddenly over-
 
 AND THE " OUTS. 285 
 
 whelmed, and could not answer a syllable ; 
 but the Earl was more self-possessed. 
 
 ** The Duchess, madam;" he said coldly; 
 " has returned to the Presence ; and as she 
 has her entree, will in all probability not 
 rejoin us. Moreover, Lady Ravenswood is 
 somewhat fatigued, and I am about to ascer- 
 tain whether it be possible to get up the 
 carriage at once." 
 
 This was sufficiently discouraging, but 
 the resolute lady was not to be so easily mise 
 hors du parti, and she accordingly conceded, 
 with a smile of affectionate sympathy, that the 
 poor dear child did look rather pale, and 
 might need rest. A first presentation was 
 always a nervous affair : she remembered her 
 own ; but it was wonderful how soon the 
 feeling wore off. However, she would not 
 detain her another instant — it would be 
 selfish to do so, as she should make a point 
 of being early at her door on the morrow, 
 in order that they might quietly talk over 
 the events of the day. 
 
 She did not, however, find an opportunity 
 of lavishing her selfish tediousness upon her 
 devoted victim for a '' moon of days ;" as the 
 door of the Earl's new mansion in Belgrave
 
 2S6 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 Square was beset from the earliest hour at 
 which it was possible with common decency 
 to pay a first visit to the young Countess, 
 until that in which gas-lights and carriage- 
 lamps interdicted all intrusion on her privacy. 
 She came and went, it is true; sent half-a-dozen 
 dinner invitations, in which she had been 
 forestalled ; and even contrived to control her 
 pride and to conceal her mortification suffi- 
 ciently to drive to Grosvenor Street to off*er 
 her congratulations to her sister. Universal 
 conciliation was her policy, or she should 
 never be able to secure a footing within the 
 charmed circle, on the confines of which she 
 had so long hovered. 
 
 Brave as she was, however, there was a 
 conscious something tugging at her heart as 
 she prepared for the interview with her sister, 
 which almost tempted her to forego her pur- 
 pose : but no ; cost what it might, it must be 
 accomplished ; and " if it were to be well done, 
 'twere well it were done quickly.'' So she 
 smoothed her ruffled plumes and prepared 
 herself for the encounter. 
 
 She had nothing to fear. Mrs. Heath- 
 cote received her with a calm cordiality which 
 betrayed no shade of either triumph or re-
 
 THE "ins" and the " OUTS/' 2S7 
 
 sentment. She had carried her point, and 
 could afford to pity the humbled pride of her 
 vanquished enemy. She had no wish to drag 
 her at her chariot wheels. She was satisfied 
 to feel that the moral vassalage was complete. 
 
 "You are very good — very good;" she 
 said quietly ; " to take so great an interest in 
 Laura. It is naturally gratifying to me as her 
 mother." 
 
 " You could not, surely, imagine that I 
 should do otherwise!" was the energetic re- 
 sponse. " Recent events must have sufficed 
 to convince you of the fact." 
 
 " We will not refer to recent events ; " was 
 the unmoved rejoinder of the lady of the 
 house. " It could not fail to prove unpleasant 
 to us both." 
 
 " Xot to me, I assure you, my dear sister ;" 
 hastily rephed the indomitable Lady Wil- 
 loughby ; " as I am only too glad to find 
 so excellent an opportunity of thanking you 
 for the important kindness which you have 
 rendered me : for since it was out of your 
 power to bestow the hand of your daughter 
 upon Arthur, you could not have served him 
 more powerfully than by effecting, through 
 your judicious offer of a gift (of which it was.
 
 288 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 of course, impossible that Sir Marmaduke 
 could sanction his acceptance !) a reconcilia- 
 tion with his father ; of which, I confess, that 
 I had previously despaired." 
 
 Mrs. Heathcote made no reply. The ac- 
 knowledgment had been offered so ungra- 
 ciously as to admit of none. 
 
 " Really, dear Laura's presentation was 
 quite a triumph — quite an ovation;" con- 
 tinued her sister, affecting not to remark her 
 silence ; " and a noble friend of mine assured 
 me in confidence, that he had been privately 
 informed our young Countess would be a 
 guest at the next state-ball." 
 
 " Lord Ravens wood has already received 
 her Majesty's commands to that effect," said 
 the triumphant mother, struggling to suppress 
 her exultation. 
 
 " Already ! Well, that is really delight- 
 ful ! " exclaimed her companion, with a slight 
 quivering about the lips. " Laura is for- 
 tunate to have so early an opportunity of once 
 more displaying the magnificent family dia- 
 monds." 
 
 " She wishes to avoid their display, as 
 savouring too much of ostentation ; " was the 
 tranquil rejoinder ; *' in which I think that she
 
 THE "ins" AND THE " OTJTs/' 289 
 
 is wise ; and as the Earl coincides in my opi- 
 nion, I have secured for her the famous jy^^/r^^r^ 
 of pearls which Hunt and Roskell were about 
 to send to Paris to be examined, and no 
 doubt purchased, by the Princess Mathilde, 
 who had seen a portion of the stones before 
 they were mounted, and expressed her desire 
 to possess them." 
 
 There was a momentary silence. Poor 
 Lady Willoughby was stretched upon a moral 
 rack. The Baronet of long descent had re- 
 fused to disburse a few hundreds to save the 
 honour of his only son, while the merchant's 
 widow lavished as many thousands merely to 
 gratify the vanity of her ennobled daughter ; 
 and that, too, as quietly as though such an act 
 of profusion was of every- day occurrence, and 
 that the substitution of a suit of pearls, origin- 
 ally destined for an Imperial princess, for 
 jewels known to be heir-looms in the family 
 of which she had become a member, were 
 an act of modest self-abnegation for which 
 she merited the utmost commendation. 
 
 At length the discomfited lady started a 
 new subject. 
 
 " And now, my dear Arabella;" she saivl 
 with a smile, which evidently cost her a se- 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 vere effort ; " having thanked you, as I felt 
 it both a duty and a pleasure to do, for your 
 consideration towards my poor boy, I must 
 also say that I have some cause of complaint 
 against you." 
 
 " Indeed ! I am not aware of " 
 
 '' Nay, nay; do not seek to misunder- 
 stand me;" interposed Lady Willoughby with 
 affected playfulness. " Was I not your sister ? 
 Almost your only relative? And should I 
 not, in common courtesy, have been present 
 at the marriage of your daughter ? " 
 
 " After what had so recently taken place 
 in my interview with Arthur ; " said Mrs. 
 Heathcote gravely ; ''I should have con- 
 sidered such a request as indelicate in the 
 highest degree." 
 
 " Oh, believe me, Arabella;" was the 
 rejoinder of the scheming dowager; " what- 
 ever the world may say to the contrary, I can 
 both forget and forgive; and I assure you 
 that my absence on the occasion caused con- 
 siderable surprise, and elicited many unplea- 
 sant comments in very high circles." 
 
 " I am sorry for it ; " said Mrs. Heath- 
 cote; " very sorry for it ; but, under all circum- 
 stances, I cannot help thinking that you were
 
 THE " ins" and the " OUTS." 2^1 
 
 spared a great deal of annoyance : for it is 
 never agreeable to be the only stranger in a 
 crowd of persons, all more or less known to 
 each other; and if I, as Laura's mother, in 
 some degree felt this to be the case, I cannot 
 hope that you would or could have been 
 exempt from a far more painful consciousness 
 of isolation than myself." 
 
 Lady Willoughby's eyes flashed fire ; but 
 fortunately it occurred to her at that trying 
 moment, that she had at least one envenomed 
 shaft still in her quiver, of which she could so 
 skilfully dip the barb in honey, that the poison 
 might be concealed while its effect was certain. 
 
 " I really grieved for you nevertheless, 
 when I remembered that you could not wit- 
 ness your daughter's presentation ; " she said, 
 with a wonderfully well-got-up sigh, which 
 was a great relief to herself in dispersing the 
 sufibcating sensation in her throat. " It 
 would have been such a pleasure, particidarly 
 as you are still young and handsome enough 
 to have commanded considerable admiration 
 in your own person." 
 
 " As regarded my insignificant self ; " re- 
 plied her sister ; "I cared little, for I have 
 never been ambitious in my own person. I
 
 292 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 have never been, what I beUeve is technically 
 called, a " tuft-hunter;" and therefore I have 
 no vanity to wound or to mortify. All my 
 hopes, all my aspirations, have been for my 
 child; and I am sufficiently repaid for the 
 care and anxiety with which I have watched 
 over her youth by the brilliant destiny which 
 has succeeded, and rewarded, my maternal 
 duties; and I can sincerely assure you that 
 my heart was more gladdened, and my love 
 more gratified, by the praises which were 
 lavished on her ^high-breeding and graceful 
 self-possession, than by all the admiration 
 elicited by her personal beauty and the mag- 
 nificence of her court-dress : while, as regards 
 any notice which I might myself have elicited, 
 you may believe me when I say that I have 
 no inclination to exhibit the weakness of en- 
 deavouring to rival my own daughter. I have 
 long since felt convinced, that when a woman 
 is conscious that her empire is about to be 
 wrested from her, she should not wait to be 
 deposed; she should abdicate.'* 
 
 " No doubt, no doubt;" said her visitor, 
 rising to depart before her temper overcame 
 her patience ; " and Laura is a sweet girl, a 
 very sweet girl ; both Sir Marmaduke and I
 
 THE " lys" AND THE " OUTS." 293 
 
 gave you substantial cause to feel convinced 
 that we thought so before we were aware that 
 she was about to become the wife of Lord 
 Kavenswood. And now, good morning, my 
 dear sister ; I can stay no longer, for I have 
 taken you in my rounds, and shall not, I fear, 
 get through half my list of calls to be made, 
 and commissions to be executed. You really 
 must come and take a quiet dinner with us — 
 a humdrum family dinner, where we may talk 
 about ourselves, and nothing but ourselves. 
 Sir Marmaduke will be delighted, for you 
 know he hates crowds. 1 am quite glad to 
 have found you so well, for I really feared 
 that you would feel very dull and lonely now 
 that you are so thoroughly deprived of the 
 society of your daughter." 
 
 " We meet every day ;" said Mrs. Heath- 
 cote; but her visitor had at least the grati- 
 fication as they parted to see that large cold 
 tears, which she had found it impossible to 
 repress, were swelling in her eyes ; while, 
 anxious nevertheless not to betray that she 
 had done so, she hastily took her leave. 
 
 "Home;" shouted the footman, dore sur 
 toiifes les coutures, as the carriage drove off, 
 and the " long list" of his mistress's morning
 
 294 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 engagements fell in a shower of fragments on 
 the carriage-rug. 
 
 It was well at that moment that Lady 
 Willoughby had only a senseless shred of 
 paper on which to wreak the bitterness of 
 her wrath.
 
 A SUMMONS. :295 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. . 
 
 A SUMMONS. 
 
 The whirl of dissipation in which the young 
 Countess of Ravenswood so suddenly found 
 herself involved increased her irritation ; and a 
 disGTUst of life and all its tinsel mockeries 
 grew upon her, until every slight exertion 
 became a fatigue, and every demand upon her 
 mental or physical energies a positive inflic- 
 tion. It was, consequently, with a burst of 
 tears that she received the official intelligence 
 of her appointment to a distinguished position 
 in the royal household ; and her evidently 
 painful emotion so alarmed her husband, that 
 he could no longer refrain from an entreaty 
 that she would confide to him the cause of 
 what he could not doubt must be some secret 
 sufFerins;. 
 
 Lord Ravenswood had outlived the age of 
 romance, or he would at once have felt that
 
 296 A LIFE-STRUGGLE, 
 
 the present condition of his fair and fading 
 wife could be attributed to no other cause 
 than the heart-sickness of a betrayed and dis- 
 appointed affection ; for no woman who pos- 
 sesses the two sovereign gifts of youth and 
 beauty ever disdains such advantages, save 
 when hope for the future is buried in the 
 ashes of the past. 
 
 What could the poor girl reply to such a 
 question ? She could but plead over-fatigue, 
 over - excitement, the complete change of 
 habits, pursuits, and interests by which she 
 felt overwhelmed, and meekly intreat his in- 
 dulgence for her weakness until she should be 
 able to conquer it. 
 
 The anxiety of the Ear] remained, never- 
 theless, undiminished. He remembered the 
 Laura Heathcote of Grosvenor Street, all life 
 and animation, entering into every project of 
 pleasure with a verve and an enjoyment which 
 spoke in every expressive feature ; and then 
 followed the tardily-awakened consciousness 
 that even at Ravenswood Castle, whence the 
 world and the world's exactions were shut out, 
 this languor and Hstlessness had gradually 
 grown upon her. Poor Lord Ravenswood ! 
 As his memory cruelly compelled him to ad-
 
 A SUMMONS. 297 
 
 mit the painful truth, he became once more 
 a prey to the keenest remorse. Laura, he 
 mentally argued, had already repented a 
 marriage which he ought, despite all her 
 assurances to the contrary, have known could 
 entail upon her nothing but disappointment 
 and regret : and yet, it might be that she was 
 really ill, and that timely care and skill would 
 restore buoyancy to her step and light to her 
 eyes ; and oh, how earnestly he clung to this 
 new-born hope ! 
 
 The verdict of Sir James Clark, who, 
 under the plea of paying his respects to his 
 old friend and patient the Earl, was presented 
 to his young bride, and who during his visit 
 watched her narrowly without hazarding a 
 question which could excite a suspicion in her 
 mind that she was herself the object of his 
 advent, followed Lord Ravenswood to his 
 study at the close of the interview with a 
 quiet smile upon his lips, by which he was 
 almost reassured. 
 
 " Am I right. Sir James ;" he asked, as the 
 door closed behind them ; " m believing from 
 the expression of your countenance that I have 
 alarmed myself unnecessarily ? " 
 
 " Your lordship is perfectly justified in
 
 298 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 arriving at that conclusion;'' was the repl}^ 
 " There is nothing whatever to apprehend in 
 the case of Lady Ravenswood." 
 
 An ejaculation of thankfulness broke from 
 the lips of the Earl. 
 
 " On the contrary, my lord ; on the con- 
 trary ; " pursued the physician cheerfully ; 
 " you must allow me to be the first to con- 
 gratulate you on the seeming indisposition of 
 your amiable Countess." 
 
 The heart of the Earl sank within him. 
 He perfectly understood the misapprehension 
 under which his companion was labouring, and 
 at the same time felt the utter impossibility of 
 undeceiving him. 
 
 " Her ladyship is young and delicate ; " 
 followed up Sir James ; " and consequently a 
 little nervous and excitable ; do not allow her 
 to overfatigue herself, and all will go on most 
 favourably, I have no doubt. At the close of 
 the season I should recommend sea-air, and 
 regular carriage-exercise. In a day or two I 
 will repeat my visit, and meanwhile allow me 
 to assure you that I shall only have my sincere 
 congratulations to reiterate." 
 
 " But you admit, meanwhile, that Lady 
 Kavenswood is nervous — that she is nervous
 
 A SUMMONS. 299 
 
 and excitable ? Can you not prescribe some- 
 thing which may tend to her relief?" de- 
 manded the Earl, T\^th an earnestness which 
 the court-physician ascribed to the natural 
 anxiousness of an elderly husband for a young 
 wife, and at which he smiled accordingly. 
 
 " Red lavender, my dear lord ; red laven- 
 der, four or five times a-day, in doses of ten 
 drops ; nothing more will be necessary. Good 
 morning." 
 
 And Sir James bowed himself out. 
 
 Had the heart of Lady Ravenswood been 
 at ease, nothing could be more brilliant than 
 her position. Her noble mansion in Belgrave 
 Square was decorated in a style of costly 
 magnificence, which somewhat jarred upon the 
 simple tastes of the Earl, but it had been 
 prepared for their reception under the super- 
 intendence and at the expense of Mrs. Heath- 
 cote, who had presented it to her daughter as 
 a marriage-gift ; and strikingly did it contrast 
 in its plate-glass and gilding, marqueterie, 
 boule, and gay-coloured satin draperies, with 
 the antique and massive splendours of the 
 stately old castle of which they had so lately 
 been the occupants. Her horses and equi- 
 pages were perhaps equalled, but certainly not
 
 300 A LIFE- STRUGGLE. 
 
 surpassed, by any in London. Her liveries 
 were faultless, and her establishment princely ; 
 while Enna, who had consented to remain her 
 guest until the return of Marston to England, 
 was her constant companion, and her fond 
 mother her daily visitor. But truly might she 
 have said with the desponding monarch, — 
 
 ** Man delights not me, nor woman either," 
 
 for her comparatively happy hours were only 
 those in which she heard Enna regret, the 
 Earl deprecate, and Carlyon murmur at the 
 absence of Eerdinand. It soothed her to hear 
 his name uttered and his letters commented 
 on in her presence, although he still pleaded 
 the unsatisfactory state of his health in reply 
 to the urgent intreaties of his guardian for his 
 return. Of course she quite concurred with 
 him in opinion that he was perfectly right to 
 absent himself on any pretext that he could 
 offer ; for, as she frequently assured herself, 
 she should find it difficult, if not impossible, 
 to exhibit towards him anything beyond the 
 coldest courtesy. And what must be the re- 
 sult? He would believe her guilty of the 
 meanness of presuming on her newly-acquired 
 rank ; her husband would be hurt by her
 
 A SUMMONS. 301 
 
 want of cordiality towards his adopted son ; 
 and poor Enna would perhaps even resent an 
 apparently gratuitous and capricious unkind- 
 ness, of which she should not dare to reveal 
 the mystery. 
 
 Why was it then, that as she occasionally 
 received the proud congratulations of the Earl 
 on the modest elegance of her appearance 
 when about to appear in public, and returned 
 the admiring embrace of Enna, her heart did 
 not respond to their tender flatteries, and 
 that her ear missed another voice, and her eye 
 another glance, which would have made it 
 throb with delight ? Alas ! the poor young 
 wife never ventured to ask herself a question 
 which she could have answered only too 
 readily. 
 
 Lady Willoughby, who had held her head 
 several inches higher since she had become 
 the aunt, not only of a Countess but of a 
 Lady of Honour, was her constant guest; 
 but although the Earl, with his accustomed 
 courtliness, had extended his hospitable invi- 
 tations not only to old Sir Marmaduke, but 
 also to his son, of whose tardy rivalship he was 
 altogether ignorant, Arthur could not be in- 
 duced to present himself in Belgrave Square.
 
 302 A LIEE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 Impetuous and selfish in all his feelings, he 
 had no sooner cast away the consciousness 
 of shame by which he was for a time beset, 
 than he forthwith began to consider himself 
 deeply aggrieved. He had been sacrificed to 
 a title, when (as he readily convinced himself), 
 had his young cousin only been permitted to 
 follow the dictates of her own heart, he should 
 have been the happy and envied possessor of 
 herself and her fortune, instead of remaining 
 as he was, the mere pensioner of a parsir 
 monious and pragmatical father, who had 
 brought the discipline of the camp into the 
 home of his ancestors. 
 
 In the excess of his mortification and an- 
 noyance he became quite logical. A pretty 
 wife, as he remarked to his jidus JcJiates, the 
 Honourable Dick Slashaway, helped a fellow 
 on in the world better than any exertion of 
 
 his own. Look at , and , and ; 
 
 would one have been created a Baronet, the 
 other a K.C.B., or the third an Under Secre- 
 tary of State, had he not been indebted to 
 petticoat interest? Besides, what could a 
 man do in the present day without money, 
 and plenty of it? Expectations were all 
 very well in their way, but they wore out a
 
 A SUMMONS. 303 
 
 fellow's patience ; and to think that he might 
 have been one of the richest commoners in 
 England, had it not been for the confounded 
 
 interference of that c d Greville, who, not 
 
 content with havinc; come into a fine fortune 
 himself, must needs force his pretty cousin to 
 become a Countess, vvhen she loved another 
 man better — for that she did love him, i\.rthur 
 Willoughby, a deuced deal better than the 
 dilapidated old Earl they had persuaded her 
 to marry, he knew right well. 
 
 " There is no hope of the lady now, at all 
 events;" was the reply of his friend ; "so if 
 you are going to transform yourself into a 
 sighing Strephon, do it like a man. Dock 
 your patronymic of its ultimate syllable, and 
 cry Willough ! Willough ! all the rest of your 
 days. As to your other grievance, a liberal 
 distribution of j)osf obits would soon remedy 
 that evil. You are a fine fellow, Arthur, 
 in your way, but you want pluck ; and 
 you are no match for the old grenadier at 
 home." 
 
 " It would seem that I am no match for 
 anybody;" said Willoughby sullenly; "and 
 if Laura were not my own cousin, I would 
 give my first year's income, when I get one.
 
 304 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 to hear that she had taken the law into her 
 own hands, and bolted." 
 
 "Bravo!" shouted his companion; "you 
 are your own man yet. There is no fear that 
 you will have recourse either to bowl or 
 dagger — at least for love of the lady. So put 
 a good face upon evil fortune, and vogue la 
 galere !'' 
 
 Meanwhile, the poor young wife, whose 
 name had been so lightly banded from mouth 
 to mouth by these two heartless and reckless 
 profligates, was gradually sinking into an 
 apparently hopeless state of inertness and 
 despondency. She was irritable and restless 
 no longer, but was evidently weighed down 
 by a morbid melancholy, against which she 
 had neither the strength nor the inclination 
 to contend. Mrs. Heathcote was in despair. 
 Lord Ravenswood half-maddened by self- 
 accusation and alarm, and Enna wretched. 
 Such a state of things was unendurable ; 
 and at length the Earl, who had no friendly 
 bosom into which he could pour out his 
 wretchedness, and wherein he could feel 
 sure of sympathy, resolved no longer to re- 
 quest, but strenuously to urge, the return 
 of Marston.
 
 A SUMMONS. 305 
 
 " That you can, should such he your will, 
 at once emancipate yourself from my au- 
 thority, Ferdinand," he wrote, " I am as well 
 aware as yourself, for I have no legal control 
 over you ; but I feel that you will not do this. 
 You have ever been to me as a son, and I 
 have endeavoured to perform towards you the 
 duties of a father. The Countess is ill — I 
 fear dangerously so ; I am miserable ; and 
 Carlyon is complaining loudly of your dis- 
 regard of his feelings. These are the circum- 
 stances under which I write, to enforce the 
 necessity of your immediate return. You 
 are, moreover, neglecting not only your own 
 interests, but also those of your sister. If 
 change of scene and climate could really have 
 been beneficial to your health, their effect 
 would have been visible months ago ; and 
 believe me, that the life of foreign vagabond- 
 age which you are now leading can be good 
 neither for your body nor your mind. Come 
 back to us, my dear boy ; at such a moment 
 we can ill spare you, and /least of all." 
 
 "Dearest!" said the Earl, bending over 
 the sofa of his wife ; " I have at length made 
 up my mind to enforce the return of jMarston. 
 The angelic patience of Enna, and the gene- 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 80G A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 rous forbearance of Carlyon, must not be 
 overtaxed; nor do I think that the young 
 man is just to himself, in neglecting for so 
 long a period the duties which have devolved 
 upon him." 
 
 "But are you quite sure;" asked the 
 young Countess, in a faltering voice which 
 she in vain endeavoured to render steady — 
 " are you quite sure that Mr. Greville-Marston 
 will not resent this unexpected interference 
 with his free will ? Would it not be better to 
 leave him to decide on his own movements?" 
 And as she asked the question, Laura 
 trembled lest, as was usually the case, her 
 husband should adopt her opinion and forego 
 his own. 
 
 " No, my dear child;" said Lord Ravens- 
 wood, delighted to perceive that the invahd 
 exhibited a more lively interest in the subject 
 under discussion than she had latterly evinced 
 in anything ; " Ferdinand possesses what our 
 continental neighbours describe as ' a heart of 
 gold.' I have told him that I have need of 
 him — that we all have need of him ; and I feel 
 convinced that the assurance will suffice to re- 
 store him to us without loss of time. Until you 
 became my wife, Laura, I loved nothing upon
 
 A SUMMONS. 807 
 
 earth as I loved Ferdinand Greville ; none know 
 as I do the noble, the honoui'able, and the 
 endearing qualities of his nature. Enna has 
 been to me all that a gentle and loving 
 daughter could be ; but her brother has been 
 more to me even than a son — he has been a 
 friend, a counsellor, a consoler; a prop on 
 which I have leant, without one fear that it 
 would fail. You must love him for my sake, 
 Laura, for he is very, very dear to me !" 
 
 The tortured girl hid her head in the 
 bosom of her husband, and burst into a torrent 
 of tears. It was well that she shed them at 
 the instant, or they would have suffocated her. 
 A wild feeling of delirious joy shook the whole 
 frame of Lord Eavenswood. Could it be? 
 Did his beautiful vouns: wife reallv love him 
 to an extent which rendered her jealous of 
 his affection for Ferdinand ? Had he been 
 walking in darkness and " disquieting himself 
 in vain," when perfect happiness and self- 
 respect were within his grasp, and awaiting 
 his acceptance ? His brain whirled ; he forgot 
 everything, save the overpowering emotion of 
 the beautiful young creature who lay upon 
 his breast, and whom he had vowed to love and 
 cherish even until they were disunited by death *
 
 308 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 "Speak, my best and dearest;" lie mur- 
 mured tenderly ; " does my paternal affection 
 for Ferdinand grieve or hurt you? Remember, 
 dear child, that my attachment to my ward 
 can never, and shall never, be permitted to 
 lessen the love which I have vowed to you, 
 and which you so richly merit ; only say that 
 you wish me to withhold my letter, and I will 
 destroy it. You merit at my hands, Laura, 
 anything and everything which it is in my 
 power to accord/' 
 
 "Oh, no, no;" whispered the low, soft 
 voice ; " you know best : you are the best 
 judge of the spirit in which your command 
 will be received." 
 
 " But your own wishes, dear one ?" 
 " I have no wish, no care upon the subject. 
 It will make Enna very happy, I know, to see 
 her brother once more. • Poor Enna ! She 
 ought not to be so perpetually disappointed. 
 And you, Algernon ; dear, good, indulgent 
 Algernon, you too miss your chosen com- 
 panion, your confidential friend. No, do not 
 destroy your letter, do not delay it; I am 
 wxak and foolish ; but believe me, I shall be 
 
 happy in your happiness Where are 
 
 we going to-night?"
 
 A SUMMONS. 309 
 
 " To the Duchess of Woburnville's ; but 
 are you equal to the exertion ?" 
 
 " Oh, you see," was the reply ; and none 
 knew, none can ever guess, what an agony of 
 struggle was involved in the smile which 
 wreathed the lips of Laura as she answered 
 the inquiry ; " you see that the rain has wept 
 away the cloud ; and the summer sky is never 
 more clear than when it has lightened itself 
 by a shower." 
 
 The letter was sent.
 
 310 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 AN ARRIVAL. 
 
 Tpie tonics of Sir James Clark began to operate 
 most favourably on the constitution of Lady 
 Ravenswood ; the colour gradually returned 
 to lier cheeks, and the elasticity to her step ; 
 and, contrary to all the anticipations of the 
 Earl, when the period of her service in the 
 royal household arrived, she declared herself 
 to be, with a little care, quite competent to 
 encounter its fatigues. 
 
 It was in vain that both her husband and 
 her physician attempted to dissuade her from 
 the effort. Laura had reasons of her own for 
 declining to comply with their advice. Fer- 
 dinand was returning — for she never for an 
 instant doubted that he would return — and 
 also that he would, in all probability, resume 
 his place under his guardian's roof, at least for 
 a time ; and it was naturally her duty to avoid
 
 AN ARRIVAL. 311 
 
 him whenever she could do so without actual 
 discourtesy. She was conscious of feehng too 
 much pleasure in the idea of seeing him 
 once more, to deceive herself into the behef 
 that constant contact with the man whom she 
 nevertheless professed in her heart to dislike and 
 despise, would be altogether without danger 
 to her peace of mind. 
 
 " No ! " she inwardly argued ; " my fate is 
 now decided ; I am a wife, and as such I must 
 perform my duties well and worthily. I have 
 now more than my own honour in trust, and 
 I am weak to speculate thus even in thought. 
 Did he not wilfully and unhesitatingly abandon 
 me, and make a mock of my affections ? Has 
 he not braved and insulted me? Where is 
 my pride ? where is my sense of self-respect ? 
 Oh, let me be more true to myself! What 
 now is Mr. Marston to me, or I to Mr. Mars- 
 ton ? Nothing ! worse than nothing ! and I 
 must teach myself to remember that my path 
 through life is a plain one, which I volunteered 
 to tread, and must follow to the end. Aye, 
 to the end ! Unloving and unloved, save as 
 a petted child, a wayward girl, to be conciliated 
 by toys and gewgaws, coaxed into smiles, and 
 fed by flattery!"
 
 312 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 And then she wept; wept over herself; 
 and, for a time, despite all her efforts, ceased 
 to remember that an angel, shorn of its wings, 
 fallen from its sphere, and compelled to hide 
 its uncinctured head in darkness, can alone 
 shadow out the fate of a woman who, born to 
 honour and consideration, is compelled either 
 by her own weakness, or by the misconception 
 of the many-tongued monster. Slander, to 
 abdicate her position, and to accept the repro- 
 bation from whence she never can escape 
 without the loss of all the brightest flowers of 
 her coronet. 
 
 Not that she argued thus logically, far 
 from it ; for then she would, doubtless, have 
 shrunk back appalled from her own sin : her 
 thoughts were more disjointed, her reflections 
 more mingled and indistinct, and, like the 
 figures in a magic-lantern, constantly varying 
 from the terrible to the attractive. How dif- 
 ferently might she have passed her existence 
 had Ferdinand been true to her ! how fondly, 
 how devotedly could she have loved him ! and 
 then, how she hated him ! and how she despised 
 herself for wasting another thought upon one 
 who had proved a renegade from all the best 
 and noblest feelings of the human heart !
 
 AN ARRIVAL. 318 
 
 In this vacillating and restless state of 
 mind the frivolous activity and graceful exi- 
 gences of a Court were wholesome for her, 
 as they served to occupy alike her time and 
 her attention ; nor could they, at her age, fail 
 to possess a certain charm. The gracious 
 kindness of which she was the object, the 
 high position and still higher character of her 
 husband, and her own perfect propriety of 
 demeanour surrounded her with respect and 
 deference, while her extreme loveliness and 
 fascination at once established her on the 
 pinnacle of fashion. She bore her honours 
 meekly, however, for there was no empty 
 shrine in her heart which she could dedicate 
 to self-worship ; and so she passed on amid 
 the courtly crowd, in it but not of it, the 
 admiration and marvel of all around her. 
 
 On the very day succeeding that on which 
 her services ceased at the palace, a travelling- 
 carriage stopped at the door of Lord Ravens- 
 wood, from which Ferdinand slowly aHghted, 
 and desired to be conducted to the private 
 apartment of the Earl. Uttering an exclama- 
 tion of delight and welcome, Lord Ravenswood 
 sprang from his seat, and folded the reclaimed 
 truant to his heart. Nothing could exceed
 
 314 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 his self-gratulation at the long-protracted re- 
 turn of his favourite ; and it was not until a 
 considerable time had elapsed that he suffi- 
 ciently overcame his excitement to remark the 
 altered appearance of the young traveller. 
 
 Thin, grave, and almost stern, the once 
 gay and brilliant Perdinand seemed to have 
 aged whole years during the few months of 
 his absence. It was evident that his conti- 
 nental sojourn had produced no beneficial 
 effect either upon his bodily or mental health, 
 and that the prescription of Dr. Holland had 
 singularly failed. There was a visible effort 
 in the cold smile with which he returned the 
 enthusiastic greeting of his guardian. All his 
 vivacity was gone ; and he inquired after the 
 Countess and his sister with as little emotion 
 as though the question were merely one of 
 simple courtesy. 
 
 Either really not perceiving, or affecting 
 not to perceive the strangeness of his manner. 
 Lord Ravenswood hastened to reply by the 
 assurance that they were both in perfect 
 health. 
 
 " Indeed ! I am rejoiced to hear it ;" was 
 the composed rejoinder ; " I thought I had 
 understood her ladyship to be an invalid."
 
 AN ARRIVAL. 315 
 
 "And so I regret to say that she has 
 been ;" replied the Earl : " but all our fears are 
 now at an end ; and as the season is near its 
 close, I trust that we shall have nothing to do 
 but to prove to you, my dear boy, that the air 
 of an English country-house will prove more 
 efficacious than that which you have been 
 breathing lately ; for really, Eerdinand, you 
 appear to me to be still wretchedlv out of 
 health." 
 
 "Have no apprehensions for me;" said 
 Marston. " I probably look much worse than 
 I really am ; and to convince you that I feel 
 this to be the case, I intend to devote the next 
 two or three months entirely to business, for 
 which purpose I shall be compelled to remain 
 in town." 
 
 " Indeed vou shall do nothino* of the sort :" 
 exclaimed his guardian ; " here have you 
 scarcely set your foot on English soil, and 
 once more crossed my threshold, before you 
 are meditating another separation. This is 
 cruel to me, Ferdinand ; very cruel : for you 
 know not what your absence has cost me. 
 No, no ; when you weary of Ravenswood we 
 will be your guests at Marston, but part from 
 you again I will not. And, moreover, you
 
 316 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 forget Enna and Carlyon, wlio have so pa- 
 tiently and uncomplainingly awaited your re- 
 turn ; and, to be frank with you, I have set 
 my heart on having a marriage at the castle : 
 so that you see even we home-staying indi- 
 viduals have some important business on hand 
 in which your presence is indispensable. And 
 now I will detain you no longer from your 
 sister, as the dinner will be served in another 
 hour." 
 
 But if the Earl had been struck by the 
 altered appearance and demeanour of Ferdi- 
 nand, how much more painfully did it affect 
 Miss Greville ! She scarcely recognised her 
 idolised brother in the cold, self-possessed, 
 unimpassioned man who strained her to his 
 breast for a moment, and then entered calmly 
 into a conversation on her future prospects, 
 and inquired into the nature of the arrange- 
 ments upon which the Earl appeared to have 
 decided. Fortunately for her fortitude the 
 dressing-bell rang ere they had exhausted the 
 subject, and Ferdinand withdrew to divest 
 himself, of his travelling costume. 
 
 " I see it all;" murmured Enna, as she 
 flung herself upon a chair, in an agony of 
 tears ; " they have broken his heart 1 Not
 
 AN ARRIVAL. 317 
 
 a word of Laura — not a question — not a com- 
 ment ! My poor, poor Ferdinand 1" 
 
 Contrary to the expectation of the Earl, 
 who had anticipated that her late fatigue would 
 have rendered Lady Ravenswood unequal to 
 any exertion, she descended to the drawing- 
 room radiant in beauty, and in a costume 
 which would have graced the board of royalty. 
 Her eyes swam in light, her fair cheek was 
 faintly tinged with red, and her whole appear- 
 ance forbade the most remote idea of indis- 
 position. 
 
 As she entered the room her husband 
 exultingly moved forward to meet her, and 
 placing her hand in that of Marston, he said 
 with emotion : " Now, indeed, I am perfectly 
 happy, and have nothing more to ask of fate. 
 With the two beings whom I most love on 
 earth beneath my roof, and my sweet, gentle 
 Enna to share my joy, I have not a single 
 wish ungratified." 
 
 "You are truly welcome, Mr. Marston — 
 Ferdinand;" followed up the Countess, in a 
 voice which shghtly trembled, as she suffered 
 her hand to remain in his ; where, however, 
 no gentle clasp sought to retain it. " Lord 
 Ravenswood has missed you sadly, and you
 
 318 A LIFE- STRUGGLE. 
 
 owe him some requital for your truancy. May 
 we trust that you have returned to us per- 
 fectly restored to health?" 
 
 " I have now little, save a certain physical 
 debility, of which to complain ;" was the cold 
 rejoinder ; " and that I trust to conquer in 
 time by occupation and excitement. I have 
 perhaps rendered my ailments the more tedious 
 by want of exertion and weak self-indulgence ; 
 but I have returned to England fully resolved 
 to conquer my bad habits." 
 
 "And you will do well;" said Lord 
 Ravenswood; " at your age a man has no 
 right to degenerate into a mere vegetable. 
 A change of ministry is shortly anticipated, 
 and should it take place we must get you into 
 Parliament. I have interest enough, I doubt 
 not, to secure your election for the borough 
 near Ravenswood." 
 
 " Those odious politics ! " exclaimed the 
 Countess. " How very strange it is that you 
 men can find no other legitimate mode of 
 employing your time than in listening to dull 
 speeches, and occasionally making them, in an 
 atmosphere impregnated with the vapours of 
 gas and the exhalations of Thames mud !" 
 
 '' Every individual has, or should have, a
 
 AN' ARRIVxVL. 319 
 
 definite aim in life ;" replied Marston ; '' and, 
 little ambition as I possess, I believe that 
 should I ever enter the House, I shall become 
 an earnest even if not an able politician." 
 
 " I shall, I feel convinced, live to see you 
 both ; " said the Earl ; " and as you have now 
 a great stake in the country, you will be 
 working for yourself as well as for the nation." 
 
 During this short conversation Marston 
 had never once raised his eyes to the face of 
 the young Countess, who gradually grew pale 
 and nervous, while a shade gathered upon her 
 brow. What had she anticipated which had 
 failed her ? What could it import to the wife 
 of Lord Raven swood whether the brother of 
 her friend met her coldly or with smiles? 
 What could she gain by dwelling on the past ? 
 How did she seek to include Marston in the 
 future ! He was perfectly courteous, although 
 calm, melancholy, and restrained in manner. 
 Was it not desirable that thus he should be 
 when they met again under such altered 
 circumstances ? She could not deny the fact, 
 but still she felt mortified and disappointed at 
 his wonderful amount of self-control. Had 
 her hold upon his heart been so very frail 
 that he could emancipate himself in a few
 
 320 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 short months from what she had once beheved 
 would be a hfelong affection ? No, she shrank 
 from admitting such an idea, and as she ere 
 long became aware that he studiously avoided 
 her eye, a mingled sensation of triumph and 
 regret swelled at her heart ; while as her glance 
 wandered from the stately but mature person 
 of the Earl to the manly form and classical 
 countenance of his ward, she began to wonder 
 how, and by what occult agency, she had ever 
 been induced to link her fate to that of the 
 man who was now her husband, when she 
 had once loved and been beloved by Ferdinand 
 Mars ton. 
 
 Alas for Laura ! she had hitherto, since 
 her marriage, been bewildered by the novelty 
 and splendour of her new position ; and her 
 woman-vanity had enabled her to still, in a 
 great degree, the murmurs of her heart : she 
 had been of the world worldly ; a gay butter- 
 fly sporting in the sunshine ; a blue wave 
 dancing in the light ; a brilliant blossom 
 blooming in the bright parterre of a Court, 
 and this had almost sufficed to her : but the 
 wing of the butterfly had already began to 
 weary, a shadow had gathered upon the lake, 
 the fervid rays of a too-powerful sun had
 
 AN ARRIVAL. 321 
 
 sullied the freshness of the new-blown flower, 
 and she had learnt from the void within to say 
 with the Preacher, " All is vanity." 
 
 A luckless moment was this in which to 
 meet once more the first and only idol of her 
 heart. From the moment in which she had 
 learned to anticipate his return she appeared 
 to herself to be about to enter upon a new 
 life. All seemed false and hollow about 
 her, save the devoted tenderness of her hus- 
 band and her own feeling towards him. But, 
 after all, she asked herself, what was the real 
 nature of the tenderness displayed by the 
 Earl ? Was it the offspring of such a love as 
 that which she had pined since her girlhood 
 to inspire ? No, it was simply compounded 
 of gratitude, a species of paternal and pro- 
 tecting pride, and an almost unconscious com- 
 passion for the beautiful young being sacri- 
 ficed to his own exigences and the ambition 
 of a worldly mother. What, moreover, was 
 her own feeling towards the man to whom 
 she had, as he fondly believed, voluntarily 
 given herself? It was simply and entirely 
 one of profound respect for his character, 
 and of admiration of his many great and 
 estimable qualities : but love — but passion — 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 A LIFE-STRUGGLE. 
 
 oh, no ! Not as she had dreamed of, and had 
 experienced these. She knew that she was but 
 a petted plaything, tenderly handled, and deli- 
 cately guarded indeed ; but not the familiar 
 friend and counsellor, not the refuge in doubt 
 or the resource in difficulty which she had 
 pictured to herself that a wife ought to be ; not 
 the " helpmeet," for which Providence itself 
 had designed her. There was a wide and 
 impassable gulf between her ignorance, and 
 inexperience, and frivolity, and the astuteness, 
 deepthoughtedness, and far-reaching prescience 
 of her lord. His world could never be her 
 world, save upon the surface. He had said 
 well and truly before their marriage that for 
 him the mere realities of life alone remained, 
 and that its poetry was over ; that the volume 
 was closed, and its covers clasped for ever; 
 while for her the page was still lying open 
 uninscribed, and ready to bear such characters 
 as she should herself trace upon it. He had 
 said well and truly : for what could now ruffle 
 the exhausted sensibilities of the one who had 
 tested the subtle emotions of existence, and 
 outlived all save the more tranquil and self- 
 controlled ; or still the wild impulses of the 
 other, who had began to awaken to the fact
 
 AN ARRIVAL. 323 
 
 that she had weakly flung from her all chance 
 of earthly happiness ; and, grasping at a 
 shadow, had for ever lost the real and tan- 
 gible substance? Had she, moreover, even 
 grasped at that shadow ? No ! — once more, 
 no ! She had not — that poor fallacy was in 
 its turn denied to her; she had not out- 
 stretched a hand, but had suffered herself 
 supinely and passively to be bartered like a 
 bale of merchandise by the stronger will of 
 her mother. And now, what remained to 
 her? 
 
 What remains to any woman who has 
 wilfully or weakly wrecked her peace? A 
 life of soul-struggle, which, to be effectual, 
 must be silent and un solaced; or an exist- 
 ence of remorse and guilt, for which the world 
 has neither sympathy nor tolerance. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 Loadoa;— Printaii by G. Babti^t, Castle St. Leioster Sq.
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY L. BOOTH, 
 
 307 REGENT STREET, W. 
 
 TWENTY YEARS IN THE CHURCH. 
 
 BY REV. JAMES PYCROFT, B.A. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "RECOLLECTIONS OF COLLEGE DAYS," ETC. 
 
 1 vol. post 8vo. price 10s. 6d. 
 
 ©pinions of i\t ^r^ss. 
 
 " Twenty Years in the Church, lately published, is one of the best 
 expositions of the Church system in its merits and defects which has ap- 
 peared for years." — Daily News, Nov. 1. 
 
 '•'Twenty Years in the Church is written on a subject that appeals 
 to the multitude, and treated by Mr. Pycroft in an honest, manly man- 
 ner, and is quite as good a novel as Tom Brown's, School Days, and 
 we shall be greatly surprised if it does not become as popular." — The 
 Leader, Aug. 27. 
 
 " Mr. Pycroft has much to say, and he says it well. . . . His sketch 
 of the Rev. Henry Austin's career must not, however, be taken as the 
 general type of the clerical profession. The account of his boyhood and 
 his college days is excellent, and so also the history of his early struggles ; 
 but, as a rule, it will hardly be wise for candidates for holy orders to ex- 
 pect such a gracious and opportune patroness as Lady Oxton, or even a 
 ' small estate' worth .500/. a-year from their future father-in law. How- 
 ever, the fable of this autobiography is a very secondary matter. It is 
 simply the machinery to work off the author's musings and personal 
 observations during a ministration of twenty years, and that purpose it 
 fulfils admirably." — Post, Sept. 6. 
 
 " Since the day when the Rev. Sydney Smith lashed the follies and 
 vices of the period which he so brilliantly adorned, we have not met with 
 so poignant and truth-telling a writer as the author of Twenty Years in the 
 Church.'' — Reading Mercury, Aug. 13.
 
 Books published by L. Booth. 
 
 "Under the above title we have another of those life-like pictures of 
 men and things as they are, which are fast succeeding the ideal personages 
 and fictitious events of the once popular Eomance. Mr. Pycroft's work 
 
 we consider as one of the best and most graphic of its kind The 
 
 style in which his subject is treated is entirely his own. Clerical life, in 
 every one of its stages between the rough turmoil of the public grammar- 
 school and the rest of the quiet country parsonage — clerical personages of 
 all kinds and degrees, from the knighted dignitary to the overworked 
 curate, are here exhibited with a photographic fidelity which can only 
 have resulted from the shrewdest appreciation of the salient points of 
 individual character, united to the most extensive powers of observation." 
 — Leicester Mercury, Oct. 22. 
 
 " We rarely meet with a volume to engage and gratify our attention 
 so well as this has done, at once by high literary qualities and the solid 
 interest of its subjects. In form it is the autobiography of a fictitious 
 person, the Rev. Henry Austin ; but Mr. Pycroft tells us in the preface 
 that the sketches are from life ; real persons and scenes have been before 
 him, so that in some parts he has been obliged to resort to new combina- 
 tions to spare private feeling. This intimation was hardly necessary. 
 Reality is stamped on every page. There is hardly a church question of 
 the day which is not presented in this volume in an agreeable form."^— 
 Daily News, Nov. 3. 
 
 ** From this homely narrative of a clergyman's experiences and ob- 
 servations there may be extracted as much interesting story, as much 
 genuine fun and sound practical sense, as is found in twenty books of 
 professedly amusing tendencies. It may be considered more to the sub- 
 ject in hand, that there is also as much earnest religious feeling and 
 practical tact in teaching as the most serious could desire. The illustra- 
 tive anecdotes are capital in themselves, and entirely to the point ; and we 
 must regard this unpretending tale as a valuable manual for the clergy, and 
 a pleasant and instructive recreation for their congregations." — Globe. 
 
 "A gifted writer, like Mr. Pycroft, is under a moral obligation to 
 exercise his talents for the benefit of society ; and we are happy to see 
 
 him so often come forward to acquit himself of this obligation We 
 
 have been particularly struck with his extensive knowledge of human 
 nature, and with his delicate perception of character, especially of the 
 finer and nobler shades of it." — Bath and Cheltenham Gazette, Aug. 24. 
 
 " We took up the book with pleasurable anticipations as to the 
 amusement and instruction we thought it likely to convey, and we confess 
 we have not been disappointed. . . . We can recommend the work as 
 one of deep interest, and worthy of the most extensive circulation." — 
 Brighton Gazette. 
 
 " A keen observer of men and things as they are, the author of 
 Recollections of College Days has noted the various aspects of clerical 
 life, with a special view to the hindrances by which existing ecclesiastical
 
 Twenty Years in the Church. 
 
 arrangements, and the circumstances of a clergyman's position, impede 
 
 ministerial usefulness The loss of the artistic effects which give 
 
 interest to a novel, is more than compensated by the naturalness of the 
 characters and scenes portrayed." — The Press, Aug. 20. 
 
 " This is a storehouse of plain, manly, and vigorous common-sense, 
 applied to nearly every practical question that can concern a clergyman 
 in the present day." — The Literary Gazette. 
 
 " The title of this book cannot fail to excite attention, and a perusal 
 of the work will by no means disappoint expectation. The history of a 
 working clergyman — the story of his life from year to year — when 
 written in an able, candid, and thoughtful manner, must necessarily con- 
 tain much of interest, amusement, and instruction." 
 
 " The author appears to us to have on hand — either in writing or in 
 his memorv — a series of sketches, anecdotes, and smart and odd sayings." 
 
 — The English Churchman, Sept. 22. 
 
 " The lives of clergymen in general contain, perhaps, fewer incidents 
 than those of any other professional class. Doubtless those of the cleri- 
 cal profession who labour in the fever-stricken alleys and unsavoury 
 back streets of our large cities witness many a scene which would require 
 few touches to make it melodramatic ; but the great majority of those 
 whose happier fortune has limited their ministrations to rural parishes 
 will probably, even at the end of a long life, have little to relate which will 
 arrest the attention by differing from what must be accepted as the com- 
 mon lot of mortality. . . . Young clergymen may probably learn some- 
 thing from these pages ; there are some good hints given in them as to 
 preaching, reading, and parish visiting." — The Critic, Aug. 20. 
 
 "It is certainly a remarkable book — a book replete with thought and 
 with incentives to thought. It conveys a perfect store of truth, which 
 is given with a freshness and reality that wins upon the heart, and carries 
 home the lessons of wisdom far more effectively than the phraseology of 
 the conventional piety of the present day. It contains some passages, 
 indeed, which evince rare satirical and humorous power combined with 
 great depth of feeling, but even when inclined to take exception to our 
 author's general views, the reader cannot fail to be struck with the fre- 
 quent justice of the observations, while he will be delighted with their 
 ingenuity. . . . Our author means well ; indeed, we cannot speak too 
 highly of his intention. Our sympathies are with him from first to last." 
 
 — St. James's Chronicle. 
 
 *' Mr. Pycroft's book is full of reality. It gives us a graphic sketch of 
 a career in the Church and pictures of parochial life which are clearly full 
 of truthfulness. They are too natural to have been invented, and it is 
 scarcely necessary that the author should tell us that the sketches of per- 
 sons and scenes are from life, only modified to spare private feeling. 
 Those who would obtain a true knowledge of clerical life, its duties and 
 difficulties, may find it here, and learn how the work of the gospel is
 
 Books published by L, Booth. 
 
 sometimes marred by the conventionalities of religion. We cannot make 
 an extract of convenient length from the book to give our readers a taste 
 of its quality ; but we can assure those whom we may induce to read it 
 for themselves, that they will find in it much that is amusing and sensible. 
 It is not, indeed, a clerical book, but a natural story of a life plainly, 
 pithily, and effectively told ; in the course of which matters relating to 
 Church and Dissent, to parochial management, and all the details of the 
 pastoral office, are incidentally discussed and graphically described." — 
 Trewman's Eweter Flying Post, Sept. 15. 
 
 " It is unexceptionable teaching." — Illustrated Times. 
 
 ^^ Twenty Years in the Church purports to be the history of a 
 working clergyman, told by himself. The Reverend Henry Austin is a 
 figment, but the book which relates his experiences, his reflections, and 
 his aspirations, is not a romance or a novel ; it belongs to another order 
 of fiction for which a name is still wanting. It is important that this 
 distinction should be understood from the outset, for it would be an in- 
 justice to the author, and a misfortune for the reader, if a book so able in 
 its kind, and so suggestive, were to be judged by alien rules and prece- 
 dents." — Spectator, Aug. 20. 
 
 "By the favour of the author, several detached portions of this work 
 have already appeared in our columns, and we are glad to see it now 
 jmblished in a complete shape. Like the author's previous work — 
 Recollections of College Days — it is evideiitly a narrative of real occur- 
 rences, and the sketches of character are drawn from life. This, combined 
 with the effective yet simple style of the author, gives a reality to the 
 book, which is so often found wanting in so-called ' Autobiographies.' It 
 brings before us the career of hundreds of English clergymen, their aspir- 
 ations, struggles, disappointments, and practical life, as exemplified in 
 Henry Austin, the hero of the book. This is done in a series of effective 
 sketches, in which the various types of character are well hit off, but with- 
 out gall, levity, or exaggeration. There are also intermixed some well- 
 grounded opinions and judicious advice, w^hich gives the book a practical 
 value, without, as the author says, 'making the reader suspicious of any- 
 thing like powders in his currant jelly.' " — The Literary Observer. 
 
 '* Our opinion of this useful and entertaining work is amply supported 
 by numerous reviews (the Spectator, Press, Leader, Athemeum, Literary 
 Gazette, and others), but above all the Christian reader will prize the 
 following from the Bishop of Lincoln : — * I thank you for sundi-y half- 
 hours most pleasantly and profitably spent. On not a few points I differ : 
 still you have drawn a truthful picture of the trials of the clergy both 
 from within and from without.' " — The Brighton Gazette. 
 
 ** The author of the entertaining volume before us, being a clergyman 
 of the Established Church, has perhaps done wisely in presenting us with 
 sketches of ecclesiastical persons and things, but omitting to call them by 
 their usual names. ' Real persons and scenes ' have been before him, but 
 in some parts he has been obliged to resort to new combinations to spare 
 private feeling. This will enable everybody to be interested in the book.
 
 Twenty Years in the Church. 
 
 High Church and Low Church persons, — dignified and undignified, — the 
 superior and inferior order of clergymen, may each be amused at each 
 other's portraits ; and if not a vast deal of good done, a pleasant half-hour 
 spent over Mr. Pycroft's book." — Athenaum. 
 
 "We took this book into our hands with great pleasure. It has so 
 respectable an appearance, and does such credit to its publisher, that we 
 confidently hoped that our task would be to recommend its interior as fully 
 worihy of its exterior. . . The book is in the form of an autobiography of 
 Henry Austin, and records of his life at college, his career as a nobleman's 
 tutor, his ordination, his first curacy, his marriage, his life after marriage, 
 with its various vicissitudes, and many troubles arising from small means, 
 till in the end be is finally landed in the parsonage of Elkerton, where he 
 is apparently ' settled and done for.' " — John Bull. 
 
 " "We rejoice to see Mr. Pycroft again in print. There is a charm in 
 his writings which it is difficult briefly to define, because it is the result of 
 so many valuable qualities in combination. They exhibit earnestness of 
 purpose in the best of causes, closeness of observation, and keenness of 
 discrimination, all embellished by a liveliness of fancy and aptitude of 
 illustration which convey to the mind weighty truth in the most agree- 
 able manner. In the present work, which is designed as a sequel to his 
 Recollections of College Days (now in its second edition ) , >lr. P. fully 
 sustains the reputation which his former pubUcations. and particult.rly 
 that last mentioned, have obtained him. Tliere is a life-like reahtyin his 
 pictures of clerical life and manners, which bears testimony to their being 
 (what stamps upon his book its highest value) the iccord of actual expe- 
 rience ; whilst that experience is dexterously made suggestive of the most 
 important moral lessons. The work has, moreover, the great and rare 
 merit of displaying a largeness of view, and superiority to party dis- 
 tinctions, which must win it approval from both the great schools of the 
 Church ; for at the same time that it fully recognises the substantial 
 excellencies of each, it spares the extravagances and excrescences of 
 neither. Another recommendation is, the judicious manner in ^hich it 
 fixes the standard of clerical character; neither placing it so high as to 
 discourage the timid and conscientious aspirant, nor so low as to favour 
 the lax and the presuming. Still another excellence is, the sober esti- 
 mate of human life which it holds forth ; exhibiting it in its darkest 
 phases as cheered by merciful comforts and supports, and in its brightest, 
 as chastened by salutary checks and warning. If we may venture to par- 
 ticularise, where all is excellent, we would mention chapter xi. ' Means by 
 which a new Church icas built.' as happily illustrating the mixed motives 
 which enter into the most laudable actions: and chapter xiv., ' How ice got 
 on u'iihout a Church-rate.' as vividly describing the probable efl'ects of 
 the abohtion now so loudly called for in certain quarters. Altogether we 
 consider this volume a valuable contribution to both the religious and the 
 entertaining literature of the day, — deserving to be studied by the 
 clerical reader (and especially by candidates for the ministry) for its pro- 
 f*>ssional instruction, and by the student of human nature for its anatomy 
 of character, its analysis of motives, and its graphic portraitures of actual 
 life and manners. ' — Bath Herald, Aug. 20.
 
 Books puhlished by L. Booth. 
 
 *' Mr. Pycroft is evidently a man of general observation. In passing 
 through life he has acquired a large amount of practical knowledge." — 
 Exeter Gazette, Oct. 1. 
 
 *' Twenty Years in the Church is a striking picture of clerical life, 
 conveying truthful and profitable lessons to those who would make the 
 pastoral office practically useful, influential, and sincerely revered. It is a 
 mirror in which many a rector, curate, or student, may see himself re- 
 flected ; and it may be viewed as a beacon to guard against the shoals and 
 banks which so frequently obstruct the course of arrogant, over-confident, 
 and vain-glorious aspirants to the gentility which is conventionally asso- 
 ciated with the priesthood of the church. In describing the ordinary 
 career of a clergyman from his school-boy and collegiate experience to his 
 responsibilities in the care of a parish, the author produces a word picture, 
 accompanied with commentaries which deserve to be treasured as valuable 
 maxims." — Lincoln and Stamford Mercury, Sept. 23. 
 
 " Tills is an extremely clever and amusing book Few classes 
 
 of men enjoy better opportunities of studying the interior workings of 
 society, although as a rule they make marvellously little use of them ; 
 but W'hen they do turn them to account, as the author of the work before 
 us really has done, they enable them to write highly entertaining and 
 useful books." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 BY JULIA TILT. 
 
 AUTHOR OF " MAY HAMILTON," *' THE OLD PALACE," ETC. 
 
 MILLICENT NEVILLE. 
 
 2 vols, post 8vo. price 21*. 
 
 ** Miss Tilt has achieved popularity ; she is already a favourite, and 
 Millicent Neville is quite equal to either The Old Palace or May Hamilton. 
 The story is well conceived, and the conception was evidently anterior to 
 the commencement of the work of composition. In these days of careless 
 writing this is no slight praise. Then the characters are well and elabo- 
 rately drawn, and, as a whole, the novel will rank high among the novels 
 of a season which has produced Adam Bede and The Lees of Blendon." 
 — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 " It contains a beautiful heroine, a sufficient mystery, and plenty of 
 pleasant social English pictures. It may be read carefully through in a 
 day, so by all means let us put it in our bags before we start for Ramsgate, 
 with a firm resolution to devote our first morning on the sands to its pe- 
 rusal." — United Service Gazette, July 23. 
 
 " Miss Tilt writes, as all women should write, perhaps, in defence of 
 her own sex ; and a more admirable portrait than the one she has here
 
 Millicent Neville. 
 
 presented to us, of a good wife, has rarely been seen. Millicent Neville 
 is, however, by no means the spiritless, all-yielding creature, which may 
 possibly be some men's idea of a good wife, but a being of a very much 
 more exalted tone of mind than any such piece of vapidity." — Era, 
 August 13. 
 
 " This is a work evincing considerable powers of invention, and much 
 wholesome feeling. The plot is ingenious, and well worked out. It will 
 be evident from the space which we have accorded to our author's present 
 production, that we think highly of her abilities. She eschews all sickly 
 sentiment, and deals with human nature in a rational and wholesome 
 spirit : she has done well, but she will yet do better ; her style is buoyant, 
 cheerful, and unaffected ; we feel quite ready to give her credit alike for 
 good sense, and for considerable powers of discrimination." — Literary 
 Gazette, Sept. 3. 
 
 " This is a very interesting story, and one which is gracefully de- 
 scribed. Millicent, the heroine, is one of those unfortunate beings who 
 make an unhappy marriage, and the sad scenes of suffering through which 
 she has to pass outweigh in misery the fitful passages which attend the 
 loves of distracted maidens in the old style of romance. Millicent's cha- 
 racter is a fine one ; at first she does not appear to much advantage, but 
 gradually as her dangers threaten and her trials multiply, the innate force 
 of her disposition becomes developed, and her remarkable self-control is 
 strikingly displayed. Millicent Neville is not an unworthy successor to 
 the works which have before interested many novel readers, and those 
 who desire to peruse some picture of life-like joys and sorrows will be 
 pleased with the appearance of this attractive novel." — Sun, July 28. 
 
 Millicent Neville is the best of Miss Tilt's productions, and one of the 
 most readable novels of the season. It is original in thought, healthy in 
 tone, and altogether a first-rate novel." — Leader, August 6. 
 
 " In Millicent Neville we have a novel both natural and interesting ; 
 the incidents occur as in everyday life, the characters are people of the 
 world, not merely creations of the author's brain. The dialogue is easy 
 and unconstrained, and possesses interest. It never descends to ' twaddle,* 
 but is always in keeping with the subject. Miss Tilt has the faculty of 
 knowing when she has exhausted her subject ; consequently, we are 
 carried on step by step without any tendency to yawn ; on the contrary, 
 it is difficult to put down the book after reading the first twenty pages. 
 The story is exceedingly simple and well told, depicting with graphic 
 vigour the struggles of a young wife with a purse-proud, self-loving 
 husband, of aristocratic tendencies and overbearing manners." — Spectator. 
 
 " The book before us is indeed a valuable contribution to the light 
 literature of the day. It carries us through almost every phase of human 
 suffering, human wickedness, and hypocrisy, and in each case the grand 
 contrast between virtue and vice is made to stand out in no ordinary 
 manner, not only in the noble bearing of the possessor of the one and the 
 degraded character of the other, but also in the just reward that awaits 
 both at the hands of an all-seeing Providence. The main plot of the novel
 
 Books published by L. Booth. 
 
 is simple enough. Millicent Neville, our heroine, refuses the hand of an 
 upright, honourable, but not overpolished, admirer — Norman Austin — 
 for the more glittering offer of Eustace Neville, a handsome and accom- 
 plished courtier, with some ten thousand a-year at his back. In the first 
 phrenzy of his grief in losing the idol on whom all his earthly hopes were 
 stayed, Norman prophesies sad things in store for poor Millicent, as the 
 inevitable consequence of her marriage with Neville. But all in vain. 
 The die was cast ; and our heroine's resolution irrevocably fixed. How 
 the fulfilment of his prophecy was eventually brought about, and how 
 Millicent, in a very short time, discovered the fatal error she had made, 
 we will riMji relate. We must refer our readers to the book itself for that; 
 and we hope that many of them will profit by the instructive moral, and 
 remember that — ' All is not gold that glitters.' " — [Press. 
 
 " Millicent Neville is a picture of every-day middle-class life, and we 
 must say very well drawn. The heroine is the daughter of a worthy 
 merchant, and the ai'chitect of his own fortune." — The Weekly Register, 
 October 8. 
 
 " But when Millicent has in her hands the complete measure of her 
 husband's evil-doing, an estrangement follows. Husband and wife, in- 
 mates of one house, meet at the same table in the manner of two strangers, 
 till the husband's wealth is swept away by a commercial crisis. Millicent 
 then having saved Eustace from self-murder, reconciliation and a sudden 
 reformation follow. The reclaimed profligate becomes a sober merchant's 
 clerk, and in the midst of poverty the happiness of home begins. The 
 authoress, however, not forgetting Norman, contrives that after three 
 years of his goodness Eustace shall accidentally be murdered. Millicent, 
 then, is forced to look for help to cousin Norman, who becomes her 
 generous friend, and, of course, in due time her second husband." — Ex- 
 aminer, August 13. 
 
 •'There is a healthy tone about the story which is a relief to the 
 reader of modern novels. There is a knowledge of human nature every 
 now and then urged upon the attention in a way which irresistibly demands 
 reflection; and reflection is mostly followed by conviction." — Morning 
 Post. 
 
 BY JULIA TILT, 
 
 AUTHOR OF '* THE OLD PALACE," ETC. 
 
 1 vol. postSvo. price 10s. &d. 
 
 MAY HAMILTON. 
 
 ** May Hamilton is an interesting novel ; and in calling attention to 
 it we have the satisfaction of feeling that we are doing a kind action, not 
 indeed to the author — for in her case praise is a matter of justice, not of 
 favour ^ — but to our readers, whom we desire to make partakers in the 
 pleasure we have ourselves derived from the perusal of the story." — 
 Morning Post.
 
 May Hamilton — False and True. 
 
 " Miss Tilt shows much vivacity, and a good-humoured manner of 
 viewing the world. Her sketches of character seem taken from the life, 
 and are therefore of some value ; she has the art of constructing a tale 
 and making it interesting. . . . May Hamilton belongs to the same class 
 of novels as Miss Bumey's Evelina, and will be found interesting by all 
 persons who care for that young lady's adventures in the world." — Glohe. 
 
 " This is an interesting story of domestic life, told in an unpretended 
 
 and attractive manner It is a tale likely to attract the reader and 
 
 to engage his attention : while, from its brevity, it will not weary any. 
 The moral is also excellent." — Sun. 
 
 "We have a very pleasing story, notwithstanding its deeply pathetic 
 portions, told in varied style, sometimes graphically narrative, at others 
 powerfully dramatic — in truth, always appropriate to circumstance and 
 situation. ' ' — Observer. 
 
 " An entertaining and very readable story." — Afhenaum. 
 
 BY THE HON. LENA EDEN. 
 
 FALSE AND TRUE. 
 
 1 vol. post 8vo. price 10*. 6^. 
 
 "It is quite refreshing in these days to meet with a lady novelist 
 who gives us real, every-day-life heroes and heroines, who do not out- 
 rage us either by their impossible virtues or failings ; and our gratitude 
 is greatly increased when we are spared the continuous and wearying 
 inculcation of some great moral lesson, to subserve which purpose all 
 the characters are driven into the most unnatural line of conduct ima- 
 ginable. False and True must on these accounts prove very acceptable 
 to those who are tired of the over-doses of the sensational and emotional, 
 and who begin to think that although woman's wrongs, sacrifices, and 
 misfortunes, may do very well for an occasional theme, yet that too 
 much of tbem is a nuisance, and that pleasant entertaining reading is the 
 real thing to be looked for in a novel. Miss Eden's work possesses these 
 qualifications in the fullest degree .... Altogether it is a book we can 
 heartily recommend to the seeker after an hour or two's amusement, and 
 we trust the authoress will be encouraged to give us some more sketches 
 of the town and country life of which she has evidently been a keen 
 observer." — Morning Chronicle, April 14. 
 
 " In some points the Honourable Lena Eden's False and True is 
 an improvement upon her previous fiction of Easton and its Inhabitants. 
 There is a more distinct story ; it is more compactly put together ; there 
 is more of it, and in it, though it does not rise to very active movement, 
 but in that it may be truer to modem life. The dramatis persona may
 
 10 Books published hy L. Booth. 
 
 be less racy and fresh than several characters in the former tale, but 
 they are better adapted for use in a novel, and some of them are dis- 
 tinctly marked." — Spectator, April 16. 
 
 " In a former work, under the title oi Easton and its Inhabitants, 
 Miss Eden gave a series of sketches of life in a country town. In the 
 volume before us a higher grade of life is taken, for it opens with a scene 
 in Belgravia, at the residence of a lady of title, and in the course of the 
 tale we have a marriage in high life. The interest of the story is well 
 maintained throughout ; the characters are all cleverly sketched ; and 
 though in some one or two instances there is, perhaps, a little exaggera- 
 tion in their description, yet it would be by no means difficult to dis- 
 cover their counterparts in every-day life. The book will afford agree- 
 able reading for a spare half -hour now and then." — Bath Herald, 
 April 16. 
 
 *' This novel, in a single volume, is of a light and amusing character, 
 and is likely to be as popular as the author's previous work. Without 
 aiming at a very exalted character, either in invention or style, it gives 
 evidence of the author's familiar acquaintance with the every-day occur- 
 rences of life, as also of the happy faculty she possesses of representing 
 men and things with the truth and consistency of nature." — Sunday 
 Times, April 24. 
 
 ^* Easton and its Inhabitants was a lively, sketchy, pleasantly im- 
 probable story. False and True is an improvement on the first in many 
 respects. It is written with more care and more unity of purpose — it 
 is amusing and fictitious — all the incidents fall out as in a comedy, and 
 are rounded off into a happy conclusion, such as the reality of things 
 would have scarcely brought to pass." — Athenaum, April 30. 
 
 " That they are photographed from the life admits of not a moment's 
 doubt. The authoress may disclaim the fact — most probably will. But 
 without desiring to be discourteous to a lady, we must say that we 
 should find it very difficult to believe her. If novel-writers will present 
 such palpable and unmistakeable realities fq^ the entertainment of their 
 readers, they must take the consequences." — Literary Gazette, May 7. 
 
 " The day of purely * fashionable novels ' is waning, and a new and 
 different class of fiction is taking their place. False and True is a fa- 
 vourable specimen of the new school. It is, we believe, the second book 
 written by the Honourable Lena Eden, and is likely to produce as much 
 inquiry and provoke the same amount of curiosity as attended her first 
 publication. Easton and its Inhabitants excited an animated controversy 
 at the time, for it was maintained on the one hand, and denied on the 
 other, that Easton was a real place with a fictitious name, and the cha- 
 racters introduced into it — 'old maids,' 'gentlemen of all ages,' and 
 ' ball-room beauties ' — not fancy sketches, but downright photographs — 
 such complete transcripts that the names of the originals could be pointed 
 out if the locality of the veritable Easton were identified. This tribute 
 to the graphic powers of the author was the proof of her skill, although 
 originating in a mistake, for she was describing a class, and not indi-
 
 Easton and its Inhabitants. 11 
 
 vidaals ; and so it is with the tale now before us, False and Titte 
 
 We can commend the volume heartily to those who delight in a truthful 
 sketch of what is called ' fashionable life,' and who love to dwell in the 
 fairy palaces of the ideal." — Morning Post, May 25. 
 
 BY' THE HON. LENA EDEN. 
 
 EASTON AND ITS INHABITANTS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 SKETCHES OF LIFE IX A COUXTRY TO\YN. 
 
 1 vol. post 8vo. price 10*. ^d. 
 
 " A weekly contemporary lately expressed a fear that ' Easton was a 
 county town, to be found under another name in the map of England.' 
 This assertion is not, however, correct, although very flattering to the 
 young and noble authoress, whose amusing literary ' photographs of old 
 maids and ball-room beauties' have, doubtless, led our contemporary to 
 the conclusion that these life-like studies must necessarily be sketches 
 of some particular locality or society. The 'frailties' and 'eccentricities,' 
 although sketched from nature by no unskilful hand, are the character- 
 istics of a class, and not of any particular set or locality. L. E. must 
 certainly feel flattered that her book has been ' taken in earnest !' Our 
 worthy contemporary is doing ' no harm,' but, on the contrary, is con- 
 ferring a public benefit in calling attention to the skilfully conceived plot 
 and lively sketches contained in Easton.^' — Moi-ning Pout, May 21. 
 
 " ' TVhere is Easton ? — Never heard of it ! ' — and never will, gentle 
 reader ; but it exists, to a certainty, and so do all the men and women 
 who figure in this book. It is a complete photograph of country life ; 
 and though we have not ourselves the key to it, doubtless the riddle is 
 not destined long to remain unsolved. We must, however, assert, that 
 though there is a slight dash of mechancete in some of the portraits, they 
 are still not caricatured or over-coloured. We admire the dashing style of 
 this lady's writing — for a lady ' L. E.' must be — and though the off- 
 hand way sometimes induces her to write with too little consideration, and 
 a little too much, it gives her, upon the whole, a mastery over her theme 
 which is frequently wanting in the writings of some of our leading 
 literatU^ — Court Journal, May 22. 
 
 " A pleasanter hour of relaxation could hardly be afforded than by this 
 unpretending little storj*. The parties, the feuds, the amusements of the 
 little county town, its ill-natured and its good-natured gossip, are drawn 
 with singular liveliness, in a tone verging indeed too near caricature, the 
 space allotted by the writer compelling her to bring out the figures too 
 broadly, without due softening and shadowing. The shy, sporting baronet,
 
 12 Books published by L. Booth, 
 
 Sir Walter Lysaght ; his supercilious, cross-grained wife, Lady Barbara ; 
 and bis frank-hearted, spoilt heir, Francis ; his charming old-maid sister, 
 Dulcibella; and her timid, long-enduring lover ; the two old bankers, and 
 their young semi-Spanish descendant, Lucia du Quesne, and her lovers, 
 are all well touched ; and we are involved in a complication of interests 
 very delightful to a novel reader, which are set right in the end by a some- 
 what imperious C07/2) de main. The impetuous Frank appears in an ultra- 
 chivalric light, in his efforts to rescue his wayward, ' fast,' little cousin. 
 Lady Hyacinthe, from the fate she had provoked ;• but ' we must not find 
 fault with the bridge that carries over ; ' and as by this means several 
 pairs of lovers marry and are happy to the end of the book, the seeming 
 sacrifice was well made. If in the next tale the ladies and gentlemen were 
 more chary of their love confidences, their private characters would gain 
 as much as the curious reader would lose." — Globe, May 27. 
 
 " Easton is a pleasant book to read — good-humoured, smart, with a 
 dash of fun in it which will carry the reader to the end in good humour ; 
 but it is the smartness of a farce and the human nature of a brisk vaude- 
 ville — all the characters talk hke natural men and women." — Athenceum, 
 May 29. 
 
 " There are in these two characters the elements of a good novel. The 
 merit of this book is in its entirely feminine character. It will certainly 
 not please the romancist. We doubt if it will be found pleasing to those 
 who seek the excitement of adventure ; but to those who are gratified 
 by truthfulness — who sympathise with womanly projects and aspirations, 
 it will be agreeable." — Weekly Times, May 30. 
 
 "The writer has considerable ability, and there is good promise in 
 these pages, but practice will be required for its development." — The 
 Critic, June 5. 
 
 1 vol. post 8vo. price 10s. 6rf. 
 
 VARIUM: A NOVEL. 
 
 ** A strange novel! The oddity of the title is well borne out by the 
 oddity of the book. . . . The author, who, from the evidence of his work, 
 we imagine to be young, has all the rashness of youth, and does not 
 tremble as an anachrone ! But he has more than this ; he has freshness 
 and vigour, and has thrown together a number of scenes and incidents, 
 many of which are well imagined and described with a sort of rugged 
 power, infinitely preferable, to our mind, to the tame corre(^tness which 
 does duty for style in the average mass of modern novels. He will 
 do better things yet. As a testimony to this conclusion we cannot do 
 better than cite the following description of a ' prison interior ' during the 
 time when the Government of France was fashioned a la Guillotine.^' — 
 Chronicle. 
 
 " The work, strange as it is, in all respects is well worth reading. . 
 Epigrammatic phrases, brilliant gleams of thought, and powerfully written
 
 Naples and King Ferdinand — The Channel Islands. 13 
 
 passages, are sprinkled abundantly over the narrative. We hold it to 
 be unfair to an author to let the public into the secrets of the plot, which 
 they can learn, if they will, from his own pages. . . . We confess we have 
 rarely met with such a wondrous book, and as all these singular events 
 are described in very good language, and interspersed with occasional 
 flashes of genuine wit, we apprehend that the seekers after unexpected 
 sensations could scarcely find a better companion for a leisure hour." — 
 Morning Star. 
 
 *' Varium is clever as far it goes." — Athenaum. 
 
 NAPLES AND KING FERDINAND. 
 
 A HISTORICAL AND POLITICAL SKETCH OF 
 THE KINGDOM OF THE TWO SICILIES. 
 
 WITH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF THE NEAl'OHTAN BOURBONS. 
 By ELIZABETH DAWBARN. 
 
 " This volume is very opportune in point of publication — a large 
 circulation most certainly awaits it." — Obsei-ver, March 28. 
 
 "There are two fearful lists of ' Dead in Prison or in Irons,' and 
 'Dead in Exile,' during the reign of Ferdinand; we shall return to this 
 volume. ' ' — Leader. 
 
 " It is neat, useful, and entertaining; and no little Neapolitan history 
 being extant in our language, it has a chance of popularity. Such a 
 book, indeed, was wanted ; so that Miss Dawbarn has rendered a service 
 to general readers."— Xearfer {second notice). 
 
 " Miss Dawbarn has written, as we have said, an interesting and 
 timely volume, which throws clear light over the annals of the Neapolitan 
 dynasty, and on the condition to which Ferdinand and his predecessors 
 have reduced this beautiful country." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 Second Edition, price 6*. with 30 Illustrations and a Map, crown 8vo. 
 cloth gilt, 
 
 THE CHANNEL ISLANDS, 
 
 JERSEY. GUERNSEY, &c. 
 
 PICTORIAL, LEGENDARY, AND DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 By OCTAVIUS ROOKE, Esa. 
 
 The Views in, and Descriptions of, the little Island of Sark, are 
 
 altogether new to the Public. 
 
 " Just the book that the visitor to these Islands requires, whether he 
 goes there to reside, or pass the summer holidays. . . . The illustra-
 
 14 Books published hy L. Booth. 
 
 tions are many of them beautiful specimens of wood engraving." — Atlas, 
 June 21. 
 
 " The Channel Islands have long been left without a Guide-Book. 
 Mr. Rooke has here supplied the want, in a manner that leaves nothing 
 to be desired. This volume requires only to be known to draw to these 
 pretty retreats a flood of visitors, who will be surprised to find they have 
 been seeking beautiful scenery at a distance, while they have, as is too 
 commonly the case, neglected more charming spots at home ! " — United 
 Service Magazine, July. 
 
 FOR TRAVELLERS. 
 ROOKE'S GUIDE TO JERSEY. 
 
 Cheap Edition, with Map, 1*. 6d. 
 
 ROOKE'S GUIDE TO GUERNSEY AND 
 SARK. 
 
 Cheap Edition, with Map, Is. 6d. 
 
 NEW ILLUSTRATED WORK. 
 
 Price One Guinea, elegantly bound in green cloth, gilt edges, royal 8vo. 
 tinted paper, and Illustrated by Seventy beautifully-executed Wood 
 Engravings by Bolton, from Drawings by the Author, Noel 
 Humphreys, &c. 
 
 THE LIEE OF THE MOSELLE, 
 
 FROM ITS SOURCE IN THE VOSGES MOUNTAINS TO ITS 
 CONFLUENCE WITH THE RHINE, AT COBLENCE. 
 
 By OCTAVIUS ROOKE, Esa. 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE CHANNEL ISLANDS, PICTORIAL, LEGENDARY, AND 
 DESCRIPTIVE." 
 
 "^ It was a happy thought of Mr. Rooke to make it (the Moselle) the 
 subject of an illustrated volume." — Athenceum. 
 
 " The illustrations are of a character to be lingered over with great 
 delight by the lover of nature." — Bath Chronicle. 
 
 ** All the prominent features of this beautiful stream and the sur- 
 rounding country, the rich and picturesque scenery, the ruined castles.
 
 Lays of the Sabbath, dr. 15 
 
 the quaint towns, and no less quaint inhabitants, the local customs and 
 superstitions, are placed before the reader as in a delicately-painted 
 panorama. An agreeable admixture of historical reminiscences and legen- 
 dary lore gives variety to the narrative, and tends to heighten the interest. 
 Mr. Rooke's prose is lively and correct, and his verse, of which we have a 
 fair quantity, musical and pleasing." — Morning Post. 
 
 " Mr. Rooke is an excellent writer; his publications are conceived in 
 the best taste. The present work offers a changing and ever-brilliant 
 panorama of picture, song, and elegant description. As a specimen of 
 the most perfect typography, this volume cannot be surpassed." — Critic. 
 
 " The author loves the graceful river, and the people of the valley will 
 be grateful to him for publishing this beautiful volume. Readers of it 
 will long to be where Ausonius was inspired with the subject of one of 
 his noblest poems." — Leader. 
 
 *' The author has done justice to the picturesque beauties of this 
 lovely stream, both by description and by illustration. We should add, 
 that the work is enlivened by many a quaint legend derived from the 
 olden times." — Gloucester Journal. 
 
 " The chief points of historical interest are narrated by Mr. Rooke, — 
 many curious legends are also interwoven with the descriptions of 
 scenery." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 Price 25. 6<7. cloth boards, 
 
 LAYS OF THE SABBATH, 
 
 APPEOPRIATE FOR EVERY SUNDAY IN THE YEAR. 
 By the rev. JOHN B. BRODERICK, 
 
 RECTOR OF 8NEAT0N, XEAR WHITBY. 
 
 Thirtieth Thousand. 
 
 HYMNS FOR A WEEK. 
 
 By CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT. 
 
 Price \s. cloth gilt. 
 Sold for the Benefit of St. Mary's Hall, Brighton. 
 
 Also, by the same Author, 
 
 HOURS OF SORROW 
 
 CHEERED AND COMFORTED. 
 
 Second Edition. Price 2*. cloth gilt.
 
 In the Press. 
 
 THE EARL'S CEDARS : A ROMANCE. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF ** SMUGGLERS AND FORESTERS." 
 
 2 vols. 21s. 
 
 COLONEL REPTON'S DAUGHTERS. 
 
 By CAROLINE RICKETTS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " UNDER THE LIME-TREES," &C. &C. 
 
 1 vol. 12mo. 5*. 
 
 In the Spring. 
 
 ELKERTON RECTORY: 
 
 BEING PART II. OF *' TWENTY YEARS IN THE CHURCH. 
 
 By the rev. J. PYCROFT, B.A. 
 
 LONDON : 
 L. BOOTH, 307 REGENT STREET, W. 
 
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