L I E) R.ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVE.R5ITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 OwXr 
 v.l
 
 wk
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2009 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/raisedtopeeragen01owen
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 MRS. OCTAVIUS FREIRE OWEN, 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 
 "THE HEROINES OF HISTORY," 
 
 ETC. 
 
 " The real nobility of birth, 
 
 To age. maturity, or youth; 
 
 The very crown of creature-worth, 
 
 Is easy, guileless, open, truth." — ^Tupper. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1859. 
 
 The rigtit oj li-anslatwn is 7eserved.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 printed by r. born, gloucester street, 
 regent's park.
 
 ..1 
 
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 THE VIGIL OF CHARITY. 
 
 Darkness was upon the wide-stretching city ! 
 Darkness — shut out of gay saloons, where the 
 warm glow of fires, the radiant smiles of un- 
 numbered tapers, flashed back to lustrous eyes 
 from mirror and ormolu; darkness — scarcely 
 to be dreamed of in the brilliant Opera House, 
 or glittering Theatre, yet spreading around 
 each scene its bat-like wings, impatient to 
 *^ envelop as with a heavy pall, each nucleus 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
 ^
 
 2 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 of light, its enemy; darkness — unfathomable 
 and silent, floating within a few feet of the 
 glare of the footlights, assured of its ultimate 
 prey, yet watchful ever; darkness — assassin- 
 like, lying in wait within as many inches, in 
 the unbattened corners of the miserable garret, 
 to swallow the sobbing flicker of the sempt- 
 stress's solitary candle; darkness — ^lifting to its 
 mysterious embrace the reflection of the white 
 snow-drift gathered without, and lapping the 
 hazy radiance of the paled gas-lights in 
 the deserted shops : — darkness was all per- 
 vading — strangely ubiquitous — ready to ab- 
 sorb each traveller, to dog every guest return- 
 ing from banquet or from ball — hungry to 
 devour the self-complacent smiles of the 
 youthful fop, or the maiden's silent tears of 
 hopeless love, to creep in mystic and ghostlike ; 
 stealthily appropriating every inch of the 
 wide unpopulated waste, when lights were 
 out, and bright eyes had departed ! 
 
 But, deepest felt without, in the desolate 
 streets, there the shadow assumed an actual, 
 almost an embodied identity : cold, even as of 
 Death in icy approximation, it warred against
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. S 
 
 sensation with the vital energy of Being. It 
 seemed to fight with the tempest, and the 
 successive gusts of wind bore wailing voices 
 upon their wild, strong pinions ; the clashing 
 of giant weapons filled the air above ; beyond, 
 across the distant course of the river, rushing 
 waves sounded, lashed into madness ; but 
 the darkness had the mastery, and after 
 prolonged struggles appeared to vanquish the 
 boisterous elements, which now fell into deep 
 sighings and fitful screams of half-suffocated 
 emotion, till finally these stopped, and the 
 tears of nature were silently unloosed from 
 their recesses, dropping warm, but noiseless, 
 upon the snow they melted as they fell. 
 
 " It was fortunate I kept you, Marcelline ; 
 how the storm has raged ! You were certain 
 to have been drenched to the skin, and might 
 have been blown into the Seine, had I suf- 
 fered you to attempt reaching the Eue Amboise 
 in such a tempest." 
 
 " The Holy Virgin be praised ! it has 
 lulled ; " replied the person addressed as Mar- 
 celline, at the same time crossing herself 
 
 b2
 
 4 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 devoutly. " We may breathe freely again. 
 Alas ! Antoinette, how hard it will be 
 going with the poor fellows on the seas this 
 night !" 
 
 " Hard ! 'ma foi ! ' I should say so. I 
 doubt, however, if either of us would have 
 thought of them, if handsome Guillaume Mars 
 were not expected daily at Dieppe, — Eh ! 
 Marcelline ? " 
 
 A blush and a smile formed the sole reply 
 to this remark, — the elder woman went on. 
 
 '^ But, my child, there is nothing to be 
 ashamed of I suppose our hearts beat 
 more or less quickly for the sufferings of 
 those who share perils affecting our selfish 
 comfort. Ah ! it is evident your neighbour, 
 Margot, told me true, and Guillaume is the 
 chosen one of all my pretty Marcelline's ad- 
 mirers." 
 
 The young girl lifted the corner of her 
 black silk apron. ''We have been betrothed 
 since the autumn," she said at last, with 
 an effort. 
 
 " And think to marry, when ? " 
 
 " In two months' time. Guillaume has
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 5 
 
 saved a little, so have I. There is no need 
 ever to be at a stand-still for work, for 
 Madame Lamotte said, only yesterday, that 
 I was equal to her ' blanchisseuse ' yet at half 
 the price." 
 
 " Eeally ! And that is how much ? " 
 
 '' Let me see," — reckoning upon her 
 fingers — "two, five, and four are eleven, 
 with nine from Madame Lamotte, I make 
 * vingt sous ' the day, easily ; and what with 
 sewing, and twisting ^immortelles' for the 
 garlands of Pere la Chaise, I can gain a very 
 fair livelihood." 
 
 ''My poor child!" 
 
 " Why not ? Surely we shall be fine on 
 that, and Guillaume's earnings. He will save 
 by and by. Now he spends more than he ought, 
 for he will spend it on me. Look at this 
 warm dress — it was Guillaume's present ; just 
 see what a pretty handkerchief — his again; 
 and these *bottines.' Oh! hereafter I will not 
 allow him to buy for me such costly articles ; 
 we must economize." 
 
 The elder woman smiled, but it had some- 
 thing melancholy about it.
 
 b RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 "We shall see," she said; "in the mean- 
 time give me another cup of coffee, Marcelline ; 
 it was good of you to come, ' mon enfant,' and 
 now I am starving you. Put down your 
 knitting, take some coffee, and then try to 
 sleep. Those dark eyes of yours, ^ petite,' will 
 be dim in the morning, and perhaps news will 
 come that our Guillaume is safe in port to- 
 morrow, nay, who knows? even arrived in 
 Paris. You'll want all your sunshine then." 
 
 Marcelline rose with alacrity. Her neat, 
 trim, little figure bore slight evidence of the 
 lateness of the hour ; no preparation for bed 
 was yet visible, with the exception of a hand- 
 kerchief loosely tied over her glossy braids; nor 
 did her appearance betoken fatigue, her eyes 
 were bright and fully open, and the hand that 
 mixed the cup of ^ cafe au lait,' and presented it 
 to her compainion, was steady, while her step 
 was elastic. What an impersonation of beauty 
 is a tender-hearted young girl, fresh and inno- 
 cent, even when she has fewer physical charms 
 than had fallen to Marcelline's share ! 
 
 Both women had been busily knitting ; they 
 now abandoned altogether their occupation,
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 7 
 
 and sat, silently at first, listening to the rain 
 which pattered softly against the casement. 
 The room in which they were was small and 
 comfortless. There was no sleeping accommo- 
 dation to be seen, so that, if Antoinette, was 
 sincere in wishing her visitor to get a little 
 rest, it was evident she must take it in a sit- 
 ting posture. The grand resource of a fire, 
 which has alleviated many a night of watching, 
 was wanting ; there was only a stove, and 
 that fast growing chill; whilst a draught 
 occasionally penetrated from the direction of 
 the window, causing the feeble frame of An- 
 toinette to shiver nervously. Besides the 
 stove, she was furnished with a cJiaufferette 
 on account of her advancing years ; no carpet 
 covered the floor except immediately where 
 Marcelline sat ; a deal table and a couple of 
 straw chairs, both at present occupied, com- 
 pleted the furniture of the chamber, which was 
 in fact nothing more than the interior of a 
 porter's lodge. But in the window was visible 
 an arrangement which might have considerably 
 puzzled a looker-on, unacquainted with the 
 place. It appeared more like the wooden
 
 8 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 partition of a pawnbroker's shop than any- 
 thing else, and communicated with the ex- 
 terior of the building by means of a trap-door, 
 capable of being lifted by a pully. A bell was 
 hung immediately above. The chair of the 
 elder female w^as placed within a short dis- 
 tance of this partition. 
 
 Through that aperture many an infant had 
 been consigned to the waves of circumstance. 
 Fate had conducted many a broken-hearted 
 suppliant to that bar, which never remained 
 closed, to the most unhappy, to the most un- 
 worthy. What heavy sobs, suffocating mes- 
 sengers of despair to a tribunal more lenient 
 than of this world, had that little trap-door wit- 
 nessed ! What sharp pangs of separation from 
 the young pledge of the past and promise of 
 the future, — of guilt— of remorse — of never- 
 dying regrets ! Eivers of bitter tears had welled 
 over that ^^ cradle of bulrushes" which was des- 
 tined perhaps to bear its tiny occupant, for the 
 moment, to the affluence and comfort of 
 another Pharaoh's palace — perhaps to form a 
 grave for hope henceforth, merged beneath the 
 still darker waters of pain, misery, or death !
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. d 
 
 Somewhat of these thoughts passed through 
 Marcelline's mind, as she gazed fixedly at the 
 window, and a sigh escaped her lips. An- 
 toinette followed the direction of her eyes. 
 
 "You are looking at the tour,'' she said, 
 " ^mon enfant.' Ah ! many a miserable, little, 
 starved infant have these old hands received 
 from that basket ! ^ Ciel ! ' that mothers can so 
 abandon their children ! " 
 
 *^ They are, for the most part, wretched, 
 are they ? " Marcelline said reflectively. 
 
 " Ah ! ^ mon Dieu, que oui !' Not once in a 
 hundred times do we have an infant clothed 
 even in decent garments. The poor rags, I 
 have wept over them, and some have been 
 wetted through before with the tears of the 
 despairing women — ' les pauvres miserables' — 
 who placed them there ? " 
 
 Tears also glistened in Marcelline's dark 
 orbs. 
 
 " But they are often claimed ? " 
 
 "Alas! seldom. A strange thing happened 
 once since my time. It was much such a 
 night as this has been. I was young then, 
 and only recently married. Pierre, who is
 
 10 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 gone to his rest — Heaven preserve his soul ! — 
 had brought me to the gate about two hours 
 before, and was to fetch me again at the usual 
 hour. He did not like my being here, and 
 even then we were talking about taking the 
 little shop in the Hue Amboise, and my 
 leaving, which I did, as it afterwards proved, 
 only to return. ' Bon Allons ! ' I was sitting, 
 thinking of my own infant, who, I trusted, 
 lay quietly slumbering at home, when I heard 
 a baby cry." 
 
 '^ A baby cry ! the pretty sweet thing ! " 
 '' Instinctively I pulled the string ; up 
 went the trap-door, round came the basket 
 with such a child in it ! Ah ! years have 
 turned my hair white since then, but never 
 yet have I forgotten my feelings of admiration 
 and pity at that moment. You could not imagine 
 anything half as fragile, half as lovely. Its beau- 
 tiful fair countenance was framed, as it were, 
 in a profusion of rich lace ; the clothes were 
 all trimmed in the same way; while the 
 cushion on which it lay was formed of a 
 splendid satin mantle, lined with swansdown. 
 But across the forehead and on one temple,
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 1 1 
 
 — ah ! bow dreadful to think of! — there was 
 a broad, red stain, strangely in contrast with 
 the beauty of the entire appearance." 
 
 " An infant so maimed ! " and Marcelline 
 stamped passionately her tiny foot. 
 
 '^ Oh ! but it was a little angel ! Some- 
 thing ineffably sweet, something exquisitely 
 tender, in the expression of the eyes told us 
 that it was a girl, and despite the cruel mis- 
 chief that declared itself upon its waxen brows, 
 it stopped crying as I lifted it, and, with the 
 blood scarcely dry upon its tender counten- 
 ance, smiled, ay ! a smile like a sunbeam ! 
 1 raised it to my bosom — I pressed my lips to 
 its velvet cheeks. ' Dieu ! ' the costly Malines 
 around them was wet with tears, as I knew, 
 for they were warm still. With a brimming 
 heart I examined it. Around its neck was 
 a chain, bright with jewels, and fastened to 
 it a slip of paper, with one word written on 
 it, ^PerditaP" 
 
 "Alas! to whom did it belong?" 
 
 " Patience, my dear ! I am coming to 
 that by-and-by. After the description I have 
 given you of the baby, you will not wonder
 
 12 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 that it became, from the very first, interest- 
 ing to the entire establishment. With many 
 of our people, the fine clothes went a good 
 way in enlisting kind offices. We all fan- 
 cied something would come of this child, 
 and attached an importance to it above all 
 its tiny companions, as people in our con- 
 dition, Marcelline, very often do, when we 
 imagine circumstances may bring us, if only 
 for a moment, nearer our betters. Soon the 
 little stranger was the pet of the whole com- 
 munity. She was baptised Marie Agnes, and 
 sent, as usual, to be nursed in the country. 
 There she grew strong and lively ; there was 
 not a creature in the house, down to the very 
 * concierge,' but was rejoiced to hear she was 
 going on well, and it was a blithe day for all 
 of us when the little fairy came back amongst 
 us. It was such a different infant to those we 
 usually see at the ' Enfants Trouves ! ' You, 
 Marcelline, when your mother brought you to 
 me, you must have starved at home, were 
 a lovely infant, and sometimes used to remind 
 me of the fair little demoiselle in after years ; 
 but I tell you, child ! she was as different to
 
 KAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 13 
 
 you as my beautiful Sunday cacliemire is to 
 this coarse wrap of a shawl. Your skin was 
 ruddy with health truly, but olive-tinted, and 
 your flesh hardened by exposure. Your eyes 
 were pretty enough, but black and fierce-look- 
 ing at times, when you were angered. Your 
 limbs well-formed and muscular when they 
 were unbound from the swathes, ^ mais c'etait 
 etonnant ! ' this little creature was as if a breath 
 would have blown her away ; her tiny wrists 
 were scarcely bigger than Pierre's thumb ; 
 her skin was pearly as the leaf of the lily, and 
 quite as soft; her pretty blue eyes fringed 
 with long silk lashes, sweeping to the cheek. 
 Ah ! how fragile was the little Marie ! but 
 that was only another reason for loving 
 her." 
 
 Marcelline sighed and glanced at the wall 
 where hung Mere Antoinette's square of look- 
 ing-glass. 
 
 ^^Well! at what art thou gazing?" de- 
 manded the old woman, with an arch smile ; 
 ^'for all 1 have said, I thought you ^un petit 
 ange' at that time, and matters have scarcely 
 gone worse with you since, ^mignonne.' There!
 
 14 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 that's right, smile and be content. Ah ! if 
 Guillaume could see you now ! " 
 
 " Continuez, chere Maman.'' 
 
 '^ Always living in expectation of somebody 
 coming to claim our pretty foundling, it was 
 not wholly lost sight of that she was to be 
 taught a means of gaining her livelihood, like 
 the rest. Madame la Superieure instructed 
 her in various branches of education; the 
 nuns found many a leisure moment to teach 
 her all sorts of fancy work ; and Father Jose, 
 the confessor, whom I had never liked until 
 then, on account of his persecution of a poor 
 thing who afterwards disappeared. Sister 
 Agatha, quite won my heart by the interest 
 he showed in the little girl. From him she 
 picked up a great deal of book-learning ; but 
 I tire you, Marcelline — you look pale — let me 
 come to the end. 
 
 " In due course of time, Marie Agnes grew 
 to be a beautiful young woman. Day after 
 day, it was put off to get her placed away from 
 the convent ; the Superior kept her in atten- 
 dance upon herself as a sort of companion. 
 But at last there was a talk of her taking the
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 15 
 
 veil. We all grumbled dreadfully when we 
 first heard it, but after a time we grew 
 accustomed to the idea. Then all was soon 
 decided, and the day for her profession fixed." 
 
 ^' And she became a nun ? " 
 
 '' Not so fast: let me tell my story my own 
 way. You know, Marcelline, our poor little 
 Marie had no riches to bestow upon the con- 
 vent of Our Lady of Mercy. It was no use 
 to think of a spectacle. Her dress would be 
 Hres simple/ so there would be no concourse of 
 people to see her profess ; and she was only to 
 take her tui^n amongst a quantity of other girls 
 the first convenient time. 
 
 The day arrived ; Marie was attired. She 
 wore a dress of white muslin ; her long, fair 
 ringlets floated over her shoulders ; there was 
 no ornament about her but the wreath of 
 orange flowers that confined them. Stop — 
 yes ! one other ; the beautiful chain, set with 
 brilliants, that was round her neck when these 
 hands received her at yonder grate, and which. 
 Father Jose said, must be presented an ofiering 
 at the shrine of our Lady of Mercy, as soon as 
 Marie had taken the veil.
 
 16 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 The chapel of the convent was full of peo- 
 ple. I was among the crowd, waiting to catch 
 a last glimpse of my favourite, before the 
 beautiful bright curls were severed from her 
 head, and the covering, never to be thrown 
 aside, laid above her fair young forehead. I was 
 standing on tiptoe to see all I could, when a 
 terrible cry was heard, which almost made me 
 drop upon the pavement. There was a whis- 
 per through the chapel that ^ gentleman, mad- 
 dened by emotion, had positively invaded 
 the sanctity of the altar steps, and torn Marie 
 from the priests and nuns, crying out that he 
 was her father! I stood up again, and 
 stretching to the utmost, caught sight of a 
 tall man, with hair tinged with grey, though 
 he appeared still young. He had the poor 
 child in his arms, she had fainted with the 
 sudden fear, her necklace was off, and he 
 was examining the jewels, and I think — nay, 
 I am sure — that tears were fast dropping 
 over them as he held it close to his 
 bosom. 
 
 ^^ The chapel was hastily cleared — the doors 
 shut. I alone was permitted to remain, and
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 17 
 
 in the sacristy they called upon me to declare 
 all I knew of the foundling. You will remem- 
 ber there was a paper with the word Terdita' 
 written on it — this was produced. I shall 
 never forget the father's look. ^ The last 
 word she ever wrote,' he said, and sunk 
 reverently on his knee. — This was the 
 story." - 
 
 *' Yes, yes ! " exclaimed Marcelline, breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 "The gentleman was the Due de L , 
 
 there was no secret in it, at the time, indeed 
 all Paris knew it. He had married a young 
 creature, a native of the Isle of France. 
 She was very beautiful, combining the supple 
 grace of the Creoles with a skin of exquisite 
 fairness and eyes of the deepest blue. How 
 much the young duke loved her, he scarcely 
 knew himself, but, alas ! because the sky 
 could not always be bright, they would not 
 allow a single ray of sunshine to fall upon 
 their home. Like many another foolish 
 young couple, if everything did not go rightly 
 with them, they were determined nothing 
 should. The great matter that helped to keep 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 them asunder was, as usual, that he was poor, 
 all his prospects coming from an uncle, whose 
 pride of family was unbounded. 
 
 " The young wife became a mother ; her 
 husband Avas absent at the time, in attendance 
 upon his uncle. The old gentleman was 
 ill — dangerously so ; his will was to be made. 
 If a boy were born to the Due, people said, 
 all would devolve on himself: if a girl — " 
 here Antoinette filled up the sentence by a 
 significant shrug. 
 
 " Foolishly, the poor, proud lady, offended 
 at her husband's absence, and brooding 
 jealously over the careless inattention it 
 evinced, forgot to mention, or perhaps 
 purposely neglected it, when informing him 
 of her safety, that the child was unfortu- 
 nately a girl. He was told that rejoicings 
 and fetes were talked of, that his wife had 
 been a mother for a fortnight, and that each 
 day had brought congratulation from the 
 highest in the land, and all this seemed to 
 be conclusive that an heir to the fortune was 
 born. He travelled post to rejoin his wife. 
 Judge of his surprise and disappointment
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 19 
 
 ^vhen she, coldly and harshly receiving him, 
 presented to him a pale, fragile, female infant, 
 the image of herself! 
 
 '^The particulars of that interview were 
 never divulged. Whatever passed, he left 
 her in anger, and she was discovered, shortly 
 after, sitting gazing fixedly upon her infant's 
 face, where a line of crimson told violence in 
 some shape had fallen. Not a word spoke 
 she, but hastily attiring herself, she hurried 
 forth into the evening. No one saw her go, 
 but many afterwards were found who remem- 
 bered to have seen a person answering her 
 description, wandering near the river. 
 
 " That night the duke came home from the 
 opera unusually late ; he had been supping 
 with some friends, and his servants could not 
 find him. How was he received at his own 
 house ? They opened the door, and he silently 
 passed in. There was mystery in the atmo- 
 sphere, something heavy, like death. He 
 gave a cry, for he felt it all at once, then 
 wildly rushed into the nearest room. She 
 was there — the gleams of anger for ever 
 banished from her beautiful eyes — pale, 
 
 c2
 
 20 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 extended, her countenance full of proud, 
 calm dignity, her hands meekly folded 
 upon her cold bosom. The child was never 
 found ; liow could it be ? The poor young 
 mother had provided for that — it was our 
 little Marie." 
 
 Marcelline's fingers, which had convulsively 
 entwined, now relaxed. '' Alas ! Antoinette, 
 how early ! how melancholy ! " 
 
 ^^ Well ! he had too late repented his sin. 
 The money was his — his uncle had left it to 
 him, heir or no heir. He imagined his child 
 slept beneath the deep waters of the Seine. 
 What would he have given to recall it ! 
 Everything was valueless now. 
 
 " Years after, he married again. He 
 became the father of many children, but 
 the Virgin, once angered by his ingrati- 
 tude, sent him only boys — no other girl 
 arrived to claim the tenderness of his soft- 
 ened heart. And now perversely he pined 
 for a daughter. Heaven had made him 
 happy in his own way, and yet he was not 
 satisfied. After all these years of yearning, 
 what must have been the rapture of happiness
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 21 
 
 to see his child given to him again, as it were 
 from the tomb ! 
 
 ^'You can scarcely imagine the joy with 
 with which Marie was welcomed into society. 
 Her mother's fortune had been large, and all 
 had gone to a distant relative. Now it was 
 reclaimed, she was one of the greatest 
 matches in Paris. Ah ! but she has a kind 
 heart, often a present has found its way here, 
 and the Foundling owes many of its privileges 
 to her gratitude." 
 
 ^^ Is she married ? " 
 
 ^^ Yes ! and a widow. Her father seems 
 entirely to absorb her heart. She is happier 
 with hhn than she was as the wife of 
 Monsieur. Never was there such mutual 
 affection. Hush ! was that three o'clock that 
 struck ? ^ Vraiment, oui ' — how chill it 
 is ! " 
 
 ^* Yes ! Mere Antoinette," replied Mar- 
 celline, rousing herself. ^' ' Trois heures' only ; 
 and you have three more hours to wait before 
 the other portress comes to relieve you. I 
 don't believe a single creature will come to- 
 night ; it is too late now, is it not? "
 
 22 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 "Hush, child, I must not leave mj post. 
 I am, however, unusually sleepy to-night, and 
 can scarcely keep my eyes open. Give me 
 one more cup of coffee, Marcelline — you are 
 younger than I am." 
 
 Silently, the young girl crossed the apart- 
 ment, and drawing from a cupboard a pillow 
 and a couple of warm blankets, she ap- 
 proached Antoinette. 
 
 "No, no, my child, it must not be," said 
 the old woman, eyeing them wistfully. 
 
 " But I say it must, and shall," said Mar- 
 celline, decisively. "Am I of no use? Are 
 these arms too childish to hold a ^ petit 
 enfant ' if one come for admittance ? Ah ! 
 Mere Antoinette, how I should like to get 
 another Marie ! Come now, be advised, and 
 rest. I will watch and you shall sleep. 
 ' Tenez,' see how pleasantly I will place you." 
 
 The straw chair in which the old woman 
 sat was provided with a capacious back. 
 Marcelline skilfully inserted the pillows, 
 talking all the time, and enveloped the 
 shrivelled form of her friend in the protecting 
 wraps.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 23 
 
 ^' I do not intend to sleep, all the same," 
 said Antoinette ; '^ but I am tired ; my eye- 
 lids are as heavy as lead." 
 
 " If you are sleepy to-night, good mother," 
 said Marcelline, ^' I, on my part, am super- 
 stitious ; I know not how it is, I have 
 thousands of misgivings. Guillaume is away ; 
 alas ! how I wish I were assured of his 
 safety." 
 
 ^^ Be patient, my child ; he will arrive to- 
 morrow." 
 
 ^^And then my poor rose-tree. I had a 
 white one he gave me, and I put it outside 
 my window ; it throve, oh ! so well in the 
 Eue Amboise, and to-day it is withered — no 
 water will freshen it. Do you hear this, 
 Antoinette ? " 
 
 Hear 1 no, Marcelline ; the comfortable 
 pillow has beguiled the sleeper to the land of 
 dreams. Take your station by the window, 
 MarcelUne. Go ! no more talking for to- 
 night. Adieu !
 
 24 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 COMING AND GOING. 
 
 The old woman slept profoundly ! With 
 head thrown back, and spectacles half falling 
 from her nose, she gave occasionally a soft- 
 sighing expiration, extremely suggestive of 
 the pleasure she derived from her repose. 
 Somebody said they *^ slept well because they 
 paid attention to it ; '' certainly if attention 
 constituted success, poor old Antoinette 
 deserved to find her attempts entirely satis- 
 factory, for no absorption could be more 
 intense, no interest more sustained, than that
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 25 
 
 with which she now offered her homage to the 
 drowsy God. 
 
 Marcelline was alone. She sat close to the 
 grate, and at first listened attentively, full of 
 the importance and responsibility of her post, 
 to the sound of the rain falling from the 
 eaves outside, persuaded ever and anon that 
 she caught the fall of footsteps advancing 
 towards the spot. Her apprehension of dis- 
 turbance died out after a few minutes, how- 
 ever, and her thoughts insensibly reverted to, 
 and were gradually blended with, the story 
 she had just heard. She pictured to herself 
 all the circumstances of little Marie's arrival ; 
 she thought over the proud, broken heart of 
 the poor mother, unequal to the task of con- 
 signing her infant to the grave, whither she 
 was flying for shelter, intending with full 
 decision of purpose, hoping in spite of hope, 
 with her last earthly energies, that her off- 
 spring might escape the hands of the father 
 she dreaded, and fall into those of friends 
 who would protect and comfort the hapless 
 "Perdita.'' 
 
 From these thoughts, Marcelline's imagin-
 
 26 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 ings wandered to herself. . Should she, she 
 said, he permitted some day to hold to her 
 heart an infant of her own, how she wished it 
 might he like Marie ! How proud she would 
 be of it ; how proud Guillaume would be for 
 her sake ! He, too, had blue eyes and fair 
 hair — surely they were lovelier far than her 
 own darker shade. Guillaume's face was the 
 perfection of manly beauty, she thought ; the 
 hair growing away from the forehead, the 
 earnest, frank eye — how tender when 
 he addressed a word to herself! What a tall, 
 athletic figure he had ; how broad were his 
 shoulders, how erect his bearing, how firmly 
 placed his head upon the muscular, though 
 ivory throat ! But in the middle of a sum- 
 mary of Guillaume's personal advantages, 
 poor little Marcelline found her eyes closing, 
 and felt that she had undertaken a some- 
 what difficult task out of regard for her friend 
 Antoinette. 
 
 Was she indeed asleep, or were her eyes 
 simply closed to material objects, to be more 
 fully alive to the walkings forth of the ever- 
 watchful spirit within ? Was she only looking
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 27 
 
 inward with an intensified gaze upon her own 
 fancies, embodied for the moment, to be swept 
 away, like the stains of the Fata Morgana, 
 from the clear ether of heaven ? Certainly if 
 sleep it were, it was the strangest, for she 
 never for a moment lost consciousness of her 
 own identity, and seemed to follow the details 
 of the dream, step by step, as one would ex- 
 pectantly watch the various acts in a drama 
 presented to the view. 
 
 The narrow walls of Mere Antoinette's 
 chamber were at first vividly impressed upon 
 her vision. There was the stove — there the 
 table with the coffee and the roll upon it — 
 there the old woman, wrapt in blankets, nod- 
 ding in her chair. Yet as she observed with 
 singular but quiet accuracy all these details, 
 knowing her mind was occupied in far different 
 scenes, the sound of the gale seemed to rise 
 again, and a torrent of rain to fall amid the 
 strange and fitful moanings of the wind, par- 
 taking now of the mad laughter of some 
 demon-shriek, now wailing itself away in its 
 mad career, as though a lost spirit sighed out 
 its last hope. Another change ! Gradually
 
 28 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 the walls of the chamber became veiled in 
 mist, the old woman faded into obscurity, and 
 the watcher felt the blast fanning her cheek 
 with wild strong breath, her hair tossed 
 around her shoulders, and Darkness — that 
 terrible Darkness ! — closed over her, and 
 seemed to weigh down upon her form with 
 the pressure of a gigantic hand. And in the 
 midst of the dense horror came a sound, to 
 which the thunder-crash above was as mirth. 
 What was it ? Far, yet clearly distinct, came 
 the warring of the mighty sea, foaming with 
 the rage of its breakers upon the rocks, crying, 
 clamouring, as though for prey. 
 
 She would have screamed, but her lips were 
 frozen ; she longed to fall upon her knees and 
 murmur a prayer, but her limbs were immov- 
 able ; the powers of vision and of hearing 
 seemed alone to acquire even a more painfully 
 acute faculty, from the torpor and paralysis of 
 the rest. Her eyes could see, though her 
 tongue refused to speak ; her ears could be 
 deafened by a sound which thrilled her heart 
 to the core, though her arms, which she would 
 fain have extended, hung powerless at her 
 sides !
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 29 
 
 Again that sight ! Again that sound ! 
 
 A light gleams upon the crest of those 
 frightful waters — a flash — and the report of a 
 gun awakens the echoes of the hollow rocks. 
 Heavens ! it is a ship, and these are signals of 
 distress. 
 
 How ftist it fades ! Hush ! there is silence 
 too. Heaven has accepted the heart's un- 
 spoken prayer. Wind, thunder, waves are at 
 rest — it is a perfect, a frightful calm. 
 
 Once more a light — unearthly, diffusive ! 
 Whence does it proceed ? It comes nearer. 
 And now Avhat is this ? A presence is about 
 her — felt, yet vague and shadowy. Heavens ! 
 will the eyes not unclose, when this mystery is 
 worse than death? What is this heavy weight 
 that seems to oppress the air, — this dead, yet 
 breathing atmosphere — this invisible, absorb- 
 ing power? 
 
 With a mighty struggle, she seeks to pene- 
 trate the secret. Ah, will her eyes ever close 
 more upon that vision ! Nor rocks, nor 
 waves, nor darkness is there now, but a dim, 
 greyish light around, coming from a figure, yet 
 impalpable, that stands in the midst of the
 
 30 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 chamber, and gazes into her eyes with pathetic 
 tenderness, while the lips murmur almost 
 inaudibly her name. 
 
 '' Marcelline ! '' 
 
 Can Guillaume be so pale as this ? Why 
 are those white garments heavy with the 
 weight of water ? What means the sad smile 
 so rigidly set upon the livid lip — the dripping 
 locks tossed back from the icy forehead ? 
 Explain I — Ah ! Marcelline needs no inter- 
 preter ; the heart's foreboding is its own ex- 
 ponent of the mysterious sounds which vibrate 
 on the air — the shape which startles, yet 
 attracts — the absorbed sense of fond idolatry 
 even to the unreal. She knows well the 
 errand of the unearthly vision ! And now she 
 stretches out her arms — her strength revives 
 — and, like Ixion, she would clasp the cloud ; 
 but the spell seems dissipating, and even while 
 she realizes every minute detail, it melts, it 
 fades, eluding her pursuit, and mingles with 
 the dim vapours of the chamber. Strange 
 that she feels no relief, when it has passed away! 
 
 The clock of Notre Dame struck five. 
 Each long beat fell upon her ear as though the
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 31 
 
 intensity of the sound would deafen her. Five 
 o'clock ! " When news comes," she said, with 
 strange calmness, " of this night's ill, I shall 
 remember the hour.'' 
 
 Did others share her thought ? As the last 
 stroke lingered heavily upon the air, as if it 
 would not be dispersed to nothingness, a wild 
 scream arose, suddenly mingling with the dying 
 vibrations of the bell, — the scream of a 
 woman's voice ! 
 
 Marcelline was awake now; of that there 
 was no doubt. She saw all around distinctly, 
 — the furniture, the still sleeping Antoinette. 
 How was it the latter did not wake ? 
 
 Another more prolonged and piercing cry 
 came from the street without, and simulta- 
 neously a sharp tap upon the trap-door at her 
 side seemed to strike her very heart. 
 
 Marcelline was no coward. Whatever the 
 spectacle had been, real or imaginary, she pos- 
 sessed sufficient energy to control its effect, 
 and could abstract her thoughts from the 
 influence she had no desire to shake off or 
 forget, to perform the voluntary duty which 
 now demanded her attention.
 
 32 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 She thought the scream came from a sister 
 sufferer. The tap, short and decisive, sum- 
 moned her services. At this moment the 
 basket had received a fresh occupant — a new 
 candidate for the charitable mercies of the 
 hospital. Unhesitatingly, she raised the trap- 
 door. 
 
 As she did so, the darkness which had been 
 lurking without, crept in, as though it longed 
 to extinguish the flickering lamp upon the 
 portress's table, by bringing with it some of the 
 vanquished wind's aid, but, baffled by the 
 frame- work of glass, it went out again silently, 
 like a detected assailant, or an evil thought 
 thwarted by the mind's purity; the "tour," 
 revolving on its axis, came round, and the 
 trap-door fell noiselessly into its accustomed 
 place. 
 
 Yes ! there was the basket, and within an 
 infant, silent and immovable. Was that, too, 
 dead ? No ! a faint breathing told that 
 another living heir to this world's woes and 
 blessings shared the little cabin. Hush ! 
 sottly ! it was asleep ! 
 
 How had that carriage come, which
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 35 
 
 Marcelline now heard drive away with frantic 
 haste ? She must have slept during its 
 arrival. Did this prove that her dream was 
 a delusion ? 
 
 The sound of the wheels awoke Antoinette, 
 who jumped hastily up, and letting her 
 spectacles fall to the ground, they broke into a 
 thousand pieces. 
 
 " Marcelline ! — Marcelline ! — what hast 
 thou there ? Eh, ah ! the basket ! quick, my 
 child — the infant may require our aid. Some- 
 times, and the old woman hurried herself 
 with an activity strange to behold in her 
 years, they bring them here half dead." 
 
 The two women bent over the basket. 
 Beautiful, heavenly sight ! Unmindful of the 
 contest that had evidently been goiug on with- 
 out, unconscious of the sharp cry of anguish 
 which declared they bore away possibly the 
 mother who adored it, the infant lay calmly 
 slumbering — its little hands clasping to its 
 bosom a white rose. 
 
 But as they looked, it awoke. Suddenly, 
 without preparation, like the lifting of a cur- 
 tain from a translucent mirror, two beautiful 
 
 VOL.1. D
 
 34 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 hazel eyes unclosed themselves, and gazed up- 
 ward, with unshrinking baby wonder, upon its 
 new attendants. 
 
 "It is an angel! " said Antoinette, hastily 
 ■flying to a bell which communicated with the 
 buildings, and ringing it for the nun, whose 
 business it was to fetch the infants when they 
 were received, and transmit them to the 
 lavatory of the hospital. 
 
 Marcelline bent down and looked fixedly at 
 the child. It seemed to her, so keen was the 
 impression of her dream, that Guillaume was 
 still present, though invisible — that he stood 
 beside her, and guided her eyes to the face of 
 the infant — her arms to unfold it. It was as 
 if his voice whispered, in clear, soft tones — 
 " This is for thee — look, Marcelline ! Heaven 
 gives to you this infant to replace me, who am 
 gone — gone where you, my beloved, shall one 
 day rejoin me." 
 
 And as she looked, the baby unclosed 
 the tiny grasp of the beautiful white flower 
 it held folded to its bosom, and, with a smile of 
 wondrous intelligence, lifted its arms and 
 held them to her, moaning the while a tender
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 35 
 
 cooing cry, as if to say, " To you am I sent 
 — you are henceforth the mother I have lost 
 — I love you already ! '' 
 
 Oh ! was her brain wandering, or was it 
 a voice and no delusion that suggested this 
 strange, this improbable thought ? Marcelline 
 had read in childhood a story of an angel 
 descending once to reanimate the frame of 
 a dead girl, for the purpose of giving 
 consolation and peace to the mourners ; this 
 recurred to her. Her mind became pos- 
 sessed, in that instant, of the idea that never 
 left her in after-life, — a mystic sort of belief 
 that the spirit of Guillaume, fleeting, had been 
 permitted to return to earth. It could ani- 
 mate, indeed, no longer his own beloved 
 shape, but it was no less present, inhabiting 
 the form of the beautiful boy now stretching 
 out his arms to her, for the expression 
 was Guillaume's — the eyes — Guillaume's 
 eyes! 
 
 *' Five o'clock ! '' said Antoinette, as she 
 lifted the infant from its receptacle — "the 
 portress will soon be here. What a lovely 
 creature ! Why, Marcelline you have your 
 
 d2
 
 36 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 wish. This infant is as beautiful as was my 
 little Marie ; and, dear me ! I think the 
 clothes are even richer. Why, what^s the 
 matter, girl — how pale you look — you 
 don't seem a bit pleased? Ah! here is 
 sister Ursula, come to take the little fellow.'^ 
 
 Marcelline had walked to the window; 
 without knowing why, she looked out. 
 Gloom ! stiir gloom all over, around, every- 
 where ! No ! in the horizon, far off, glim- 
 mered one faint ray, * and faint as it was, it 
 struck a chill into the heart of the wretched 
 girl. She knew it was in that direction — but 
 no ! she would not think of it. She would 
 not imagine what sight the day might 
 look upon, until the truth were told 
 to her, and she felt her heart widowed, 
 and alone. 
 
 She gazed at the faint streak, it was the 
 dawn, the first gleam of the sun's distant ap- 
 proach — distant, but sure. 
 
 '• Ave Maria," said the girl softly; ^4t is 
 perhaps the first dawn of the sun of hope to 
 that young babe : Grant, holy mother ! that 
 mine may not have set — for ever ! "
 
 37 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 FORCE AND STRATAGEM. 
 
 Time ! — mighty potentate, who ruthlessly 
 snaps the fairest flowers of a lifetime — who 
 steals its brightest moments before the dull 
 sense of fallen humanity can fairly inhale 
 their fragrance or realize their lustre ; — Time, 
 alike unmindful of sorrow as of joy, passes 
 rapidly on, even with the mourner. Is the 
 heart a rich vase brimming with sparkling 
 happiness? He breathes upon it, and the 
 precious drops evaporate. Is it surcharged 
 with dark poison ? He scatters with his wings
 
 38 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 the lurking mischief, whose elements shall 
 never be a second time combined. 
 
 The hours sped on, and the day was 
 already nearly over which succeeded the 
 date of the events recorded in our last chap- 
 ter. We will not visit the miserable Marcel- 
 line, pacing abstractedly to and fro in her 
 little apartment, courting the hope that 
 '' would not be entreated ; " we forbear to 
 bend over the humble creche, where reposed 
 calmly the young blossom so lately torn from 
 its parent stem — the pretty new arrival at the 
 ^' Enfants Trouves" — but transport the reader 
 to the open country, a mile or two from the 
 town of St. Denis, on the northern road. 
 
 Let him imagine one of those little ^' esta- 
 minets " which gather thickly around the 
 environs of Paris. It is a long low chaumiere, 
 with a wretched, uncultured garden stretching 
 down one side, the flagged pavement reaching 
 to the walls, on the other. A creaking sign 
 sets forth the advantages to be derived from the 
 traveller's patronage, and a sample of them is 
 given by way of illustration, in the party of 
 rough workmen and labourers who, seated in
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 39 
 
 front under the shelter of an irregular projec- 
 tion in the building, are drinking, and appa- 
 rently vying with each other who shall send 
 the longest corkscrew of vapour from his half- 
 closed lips. 
 
 The snow has entirely disappeared, but the 
 effects of the thaw are discernible everywhere, 
 and the change is at present certainly any- 
 thing but for the better. All day long, a mist 
 of drizzling rain has filled the air ; the tem- 
 pest sighs at distant intervals, like an enemy 
 at bay, but ardent to recommence the attack ; 
 and nature shivers, as it were, after the shock 
 she has encountered. 
 
 A traveller approaches from the direction of 
 the capital. He comes plashing with heavy 
 boots through the mud, and as he nears the 
 hospitable demesne, the dirty attendant 
 glances from the window and smooths her 
 neglected attire, while the party of stolid 
 revellers crowd nearer together, and make 
 room for the expected addition to their com- 
 pany. 
 
 It was difficult at first sight to say to what 
 class the stranger belonged. He was a short,
 
 40 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 thick-set man, dressed very simply, but carry- 
 ing his hat slightly on one side. The attempt 
 at jauntiness this declared, was completely 
 belied by the expression of the countenance 
 beneath, which was cast in nature's roughest 
 mould. Strongly marked originally, expo- 
 sure to the weather and the ravages of the 
 small-pox had combined to render the features 
 still more rugged and repellent. The eyes 
 were dark* and hard — partially hidden by 
 shaggy eyebrows of grizzled black — and a 
 rough, unkempt head, and unshaven chin, 
 further augmented their disagreeable effect. 
 Ferocity; cunning, and sensuality lay de- 
 picted, though doubtless unwittingly, upon 
 the features ; and the shambling, uneasy gait, 
 the hands constantly employed in a sort of 
 clutching movement, suggested the idea that 
 it was best and safest to keep at a respect- 
 ful distance from himself and the heavy 
 bludgeon he carried. 
 
 The group of workmen eyed him suspi- 
 ciously as he approached. At length, one 
 hazarded a ^^ Bon soir, camarade ; " and find- 
 ing it cheerfully responded to, others fol-
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 41 
 
 lowed the example, and the stranger was 
 soon quaffing and smoking with his new 
 friends. A few moments thus silently elapsed, 
 and then, one of the workmen — a mason 
 apparently, for his blouse was white with 
 lime-dust — calling attention to the increasing 
 twilight, volunteered a song before they 
 parted company and sought their several 
 homes. 
 
 The offer was eagerly accepted, and in a 
 second the group was earnestly employed in 
 listening to the jovial strains, of which they 
 showed their appreciation in different original 
 fashions. Meanwhile, the stranger emptied 
 his glass, and in the excitement of the 
 second round of chorus, quietly disappeared 
 round the angle of the building overlooking 
 the garden. 
 
 So rapidly did he execute this movement 
 that he almost struck against the form of a 
 man standing under the shadow of the wall, 
 so as to be completely hidden from the ob- 
 servation of those occupying the road. 
 
 ^^ Your pardon. Monsieur,'^ said the aggres- 
 sor in a low voice, and at the same time
 
 42 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 taking a step or two backwards, — ^^ I scarcely 
 expected to find you so punctual. I had 
 made up my mind for a half hour's string 
 of abuse at yourself and the weather, for 
 making me wait. ^ Mille tonneres ! ' this rain 
 is like melted ice." 
 
 '' Thank you ! You see I was first at my 
 post. Have you any further news for 
 me?'' 
 
 '^ None. I fancy I have brought you news 
 enough. The tidings about the young fellow 
 were sufficiently important, I should think. 
 Supposing you had let her marry him ? " 
 
 ^' Hush ! speak softly. You have been 
 drinking, Adderly, and will betray all," — 
 he drew the man a little farther back as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " I want my money," was the response, 
 in a dogged tone peculiar to England, and 
 which, despite the French exclamation he 
 had used, declared the speaker was no na- 
 tive of the soil on which he stood. 
 
 " And shall have it ! You have done me 
 an essential service. I am provided, and 
 you can receive the sum I promised you at
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 43 
 
 once. ' Ventre bleu ! ' how dark it is ! Let 
 me look at you. I think we might venture 
 into the house." 
 
 As he said these words, the speaker, who 
 was evidently a Frenchman, though he spoke 
 English with considerable fluency, cautiously 
 led the way to a door in the rear of the 
 cottage, and unclosing it, proceeded upstairs, 
 motioning to his companion to tread softly, 
 a suggestion which the other appeared per- 
 fectly to understand, and immediately 
 adopted. 
 
 On reaching the summit of a short flight 
 of stairs, a light was hastily struck, and the 
 pair entered a small, unhealthy-looking cham- 
 ber, which appeared to communicate with an 
 adjoining one by means of a low door. 
 
 The rays shone upon the countenance of 
 the speaker as he said, drawing a chair to the 
 table, while he indicated the door with his fin- 
 ger, ''■ Sit down, Adderly, and be as quiet as 
 you can — she is there ! '' 
 
 You would have been puzzled to say what 
 idea the face thus displayed gave you. It 
 belonged to a figure tall and erect, though by
 
 44 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 no means slender, and might have been the 
 index of perhaps thirty years. The com- 
 plexion was clear and fresh, the hair of raven 
 blackness, which made it appear still fairer, 
 the nose and mouth not deficient in delicacy, 
 the latter surmounted by a short thick mous- 
 tache, and finished by a well-shaped beard. 
 Perhaps he smiled too much ; perhaps a 
 slight flash in the corner of the eye taught 
 you to mistrust the calm politeness of his man- 
 ner ; but surely such a Protean face was 
 never seen ; it varied in expression moment- 
 arily, nor did the same appear to be easily 
 reproduced. 
 
 He took off his hat and threw it upon the 
 table carelessly, letting fall a mass of dark 
 curls around his face. 
 
 '' Heavens ! Malvoisin, how you are 
 changed," said Adderly, with difficulty re- 
 pressing a loud exclamation. '' What have 
 you been doing to yourself? Your own 
 mother would scarcely recognise you." 
 
 The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " A wig and a little hair-dye seem to have 
 a wonderful effect upon you, ^ mon ami.' I
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 45 
 
 thought you were too old a hand at the tricks 
 of the trade, to be surprised thus at any per- 
 sonal transformation. My light brown poll, 
 and sand-coloured moustache, would have 
 been too soon recognised; besides, there was 
 this ugly scar to conceal, which might have 
 told tales." 
 
 As he spoke, he lifted the hair from his 
 forehead, thus displaying a white seam which 
 crossed the temple, and, indeed, its shape, 
 and the expression it imparted to his face, 
 were so peculiar, that very few persons could, 
 after once observing it, have doubted the 
 identity of the beared 
 
 '■^ Come ! we have a trifle to discuss," he 
 went on, and as he spoke he drew^ a purse 
 out, and counted several Napoleons to his 
 companion. ''I am off to-night; now await- 
 ing the diligence which takes us to Calais. I 
 shall make inquiries myself relative to this 
 young man, and for that purpose go across to 
 England ; but first tell me again exactly 
 what you saw, and to what end your opinions 
 lead you." 
 
 '' I have already told you all I know. I
 
 46 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 obeyed your orders to the letter, took my 
 passage in the same boat to Dover, arid never 
 lost sight of him until I saw him fairly 
 housed. The poor devil was sad enough 
 upon the voyage ; he had a picture — I 
 suppose hers ; he scarcely looked around him, 
 but kept pacing up and down the deck, occa- 
 sionally drawing it from his bosom." 
 
 ^^Well.'' 
 
 " When the boat reached land, I followed 
 him closely. You mentioned that he had 
 relatives at Dover, so I waited at the inn-door 
 until he should return. He had but little 
 money." 
 
 V ^' No, I took care of that ; it was well he 
 had not farther to go ; my gentleman might 
 have been awkwardly placed for cash." 
 
 " As I expected, he soon reappeared. Too 
 abstracted to notice me, I followed him un- 
 perceived, and saw him enter a low cottage 
 hard by the beach. It was evidently his 
 home." 
 
 ^' The deceitful hound ! Estelle has re- 
 peatedly told me his relations were wealthy, 
 his family noble."
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 47 
 
 " Stuff; you never saw a more homely 
 cabin, or a more ordinary old serving-wench, 
 than I beheld Miss Estelle's lover embracing 
 through the window, while she wept over 
 him, and called him her son." 
 
 ^' Let him look to it — I will be revenged. 
 It was all a plot, but it must be a cleverer 
 fellow than this English stripling to overreach 
 Ruse Malvoisin. Eh ! Adderly ? We'll 
 forgive him if he does." 
 
 The laugh which accompanied this nearest 
 approach to good fellowship that he had 
 evinced towards a man his inferior, sounded 
 discordant. Adderly moved uneasily in his 
 chair ; if it were meant to reassure him, the 
 attempt failed. 
 
 '' Come, come, master," he said at length 
 — ^^ stop that merriment of yours ; I can't 
 stand it ; it makes my hair stand on end. 
 You seldom laugh, and when you do, by the 
 powers ! it sounds as if it didn't fit you — 
 unnatural like. There, stop, pray." 
 
 '^ By all means, my friend," rejoined the 
 other, relapsing into his former indifference, 
 but dropping his eyes first, with a peculiar
 
 48 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 flash, which caused a perceptible shudder in 
 the person he addressed. ^' All this is beside 
 the question. Now listen, I have one more ser- 
 vice for you to do me ; I shall go to England, 
 and unless I hear from you at the address I 
 named, I shall not return until some pigeon is 
 to be plucked, or some rich prize to be 
 carried off. Apart from my little matter with 
 this Englishman, I think of turning Estelle's 
 talents to account. It is as well, for the girl 
 has been a great expense to me of late, with 
 her fine dresses and her jewels." 
 
 '^ Pooh ! No, no, Malvoisin ! young Shef- 
 field at least paid for them. My word ! he 
 had a hand like a prince, I wonder where he 
 got his money ! " 
 
 *' Well ; have it your own way. But to 
 the errand I want done : it is this ; you re- 
 member that priest, the old fellow — Lambert 
 — who dwells near Notre Dame. I have a 
 grudge against him — let him be put out of 
 the way. What ! do you hesitate ? Ke- 
 member ! " 
 
 '' Oh ! well, if you wish it, that matter is 
 easily accomplished. I had rather do that
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 49 
 
 now, a dozen times over, than kill an innocent 
 babe, like the one you wanted me to strike 
 last night. How the pretty soul lay sleeping 
 all the time ! Oh ! Malvoisin, you have the 
 heart of a stone ; even I shuddered at doing 
 such an unhallowed deed." 
 
 '^ Fool ! as if one were worse than the 
 other. I wish I had been at the bottom of 
 the sea, before I let you persuade me to spare 
 it. A Foundling Hospital, indeed! Much 
 better have put it out of the way ; we might 
 have told her it was safe just as well." 
 
 " Poor girl ! and you her uncle. . Have 
 you no mercy on her ? " 
 
 " Hush ! your untimely compassion is 
 doing her mischief already; your voice has 
 aroused her — listen. Stop, she is growing 
 hysterical — I must go to her." He took a 
 phial from his pocket. " This will quiet her ; 
 she has been thus ever since. Pity me, if 
 you must needs pity anybody ; I shall make 
 quite a good nurse at last." 
 
 He disappeared within the adjoining 
 chamber, Adderley's eyes following him with 
 an expression of disgust which for a moment 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 superseded completely their natural ferocity. 
 He listened attentively — sobs, stifled moans, 
 and exclamations of misery and supplication 
 were plainly audible. Still more intent, he 
 finally rose, and approached the partition, 
 laying his ear against it. The voice of Mal- 
 voisin now distinctly sounded. " Will you be 
 satisfied if I shew him to you, and convince 
 you it is the same man ? He is at this moment 
 in the next room. I sent for him to set 
 your mind at rest ; you shall see him if you 
 will promise to give me less trouble in future, 
 to quell these silly regrets, and knowing 
 Shefiield worthless, to bury the past in 
 oblivion." 
 
 There was a pause, and then a heavy sigh ; 
 the moment after, Malvoisin re-entered the 
 room. He hurriedly advanced to a valise 
 which stood open in one corner of the apart- 
 ment, and drew thence the garments of a 
 friar. 
 
 " Quick, Adderly, put these on, — Estelle is 
 raving; you must tell her you have often 
 received her at the confessional in this dis- 
 guise — that it has been a customary one — all
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 51 
 
 a trick for purposes she could doubtless 
 penetrate ; and if she asks you where you 
 were upon the 12th of March — Hush ! 
 quick, now the band — there, that is right. 
 Here she is." 
 
 The door opened quickly, and the occupant 
 of the next chamber glided in. She was a 
 girl of scarcely seventeen years ; her figure, 
 slight and elegant, was far more childish than 
 womanly, but the face was that of a person 
 ten years older. It was white as alabaster, 
 with the exception of a deep line beneath the 
 eyes, which were swollen with weeping. Her 
 hair hung in dishevelled masses about her 
 shoulders ; her dress, fashionably correct ori- 
 ginally in all its details, was crumpled and 
 disfigured. She advanced straight to the spot 
 where Adderly stood, scarcely aware of the 
 position he had so suddenly assumed, and 
 flung herself with a wild cry at his feet. 
 
 '^ Hush, Estelle ! " said Malvoisin, advanc- 
 ing, and lifting her with an assumption of 
 great gentleness and solicitude. ^^ This is the 
 priest you remember on the 12th of March — 
 will you not look at him? I have sought 
 
 e2 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY
 
 5'2 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 half over Paris to give yon this miserable 
 consolation. This is the same man — he is 
 sorry for his sin, and prays your forgiveness. 
 
 She rose suddenly, standing erect with 
 dilated frame and kindling eye. She pressed 
 her hand tightly upon her heart. It seemed 
 as if she would have stilled its beatings for 
 ever, if she could. The proud calm gesture — 
 the queenly head, thrown back with a last 
 effort at dignity and composure, was instinct 
 with meaning. It was well she did not 
 address him. If she had — if she had ques- 
 tioned him — reprobate — wretch — as the man 
 was — he could not have told her a lie. But 
 she spoke not — she only cast a wild, suppli- 
 cating glance at his face. It was the incar- 
 nation of suffering — the culmination of de- 
 spair. Eapidly, with a resistless frenzy, she 
 tore the heavy slouched hat which concealed 
 the features of the pretended ecclesiastic from 
 his head. Malvoisin himself assisted the reve- 
 lation, and snatched, with a certain show of 
 violence, the disguise from the shoulders of 
 his puzzled accomplice. 
 
 *^ Adderly ! " she screamed ; and the
 
 {RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 53 
 
 scream rang with awful shrillness through the 
 room. ^' Adderly ! — it is too true. God ! 
 my child ! '*' 
 
 As these words escaped in one wild throb- 
 bing gasp, the unfortunate girl threw her 
 arms upward, as if extending them to the 
 heaven that coidd alone comprehend the 
 extremity of her misery, and fell insensible 
 upon the ground, her head striking slightly 
 against the corner of the table. 
 
 " There, that will do. She is quiet for the 
 present," said Malvoisin, with great sang-froid, 
 as he coolly picked up the garments of the 
 priest, and placed them again within the 
 valise. ^^ There ! you need not bend over 
 her — she is all right — better so than con- 
 scious, it seems to me. Now if the diligence 
 would come, we could lift her into it, and all 
 would be comfortably arranged. Hist ! what 
 was that ? — Confound the girl, I fear she has 
 raised the house.'' 
 
 '^ Devil ! " muttered Adderly, between 
 his teeth. 
 
 ^^Ah ! you are still compassionate — still 
 disposed to condemn my decision, and call it
 
 '54 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 by hard names. My good fellow, it is a 
 thousand times better to strike home at once 
 boldly, than torture her with repeated small 
 attacks ! Ah 1 don't fear, grief never killed 
 a woman yet ; pale as she is, she will come 
 round sooner than we want her. Why, 
 Adderly, you'll not be fit for your post in our 
 gang, if you become so white-livered at the 
 sight of a love-sick girl's airs and graces ; just 
 as I was going to recommend you, too, for 
 promotion. 
 
 Adderly was not unmindful of this hint. 
 He rose sullenly from the ground, resigning 
 the insensible girl to his superior, who threw 
 
 her across his athletic shoulder as if she had 
 
 * 
 
 been an infant. Her arm fell over, almost 
 touching him as he stood near. 
 
 ^' Well, I suppose that's all you want with 
 me ? I have got a pleasant walk before me, 
 back to Paris in all this mud and rain. Tis only 
 the likes of you that can ride in your carriages 
 and diUgences. Here — I take it there's no 
 good in this now — I may take it off, eh ? 
 She's undeceived, and it will only put her in 
 mind of her trouble when she comes to."
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 55 
 
 He lifted the slender white hand as he 
 spoke — it was the left, and bore on the fourth 
 finger a wedding ring. 
 
 Malvoisin nodded assent. " Yes, take it," 
 he said, ^^ but be quick, for I want you gone 
 now." 
 
 Adderly wanted no second permission ; he 
 hastily removed the gold ring, drawing off at 
 the same time its companion, one of splendid 
 brilliants, and as he did so he cast a furtive 
 glance to see if he were observed. 
 
 The two men left the room together. Mal- 
 voisin to deposit his burden upon the bed in 
 the contiguous chamber, and his comrade to 
 descend the stairs with cautious steps, and 
 make the best of his way back to the metro- 
 polis.
 
 56 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 THE TWINS. 
 
 Leaving Malvoisin, who two hours later con- 
 veyed Estelle, — not by diligence to Calais, 
 as it suited him to declare, in order to mis- 
 lead his companion, but in a closed fiacre 
 to the quay, where a steam-boat just lay ready 
 to bear them up the Seine towards Rouen, — • 
 we gladly introduce the reader to a more en- 
 livening scene and locality, in the country 
 house of an hospitable gentleman, a fair 
 specimen of his class in our own England.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 57 
 
 Dinner has just been served. The guests 
 fire not numerous, about twelve only ; but 
 they make up for fewness in animation and 
 good understanding. At the head of the 
 table sits a lady, graceful and beautiful, 
 though no longer young. We shall have oc- 
 casion to speak of her by-and-by, as also of 
 her husband, whom we pass now with only 
 one comment, that eye never looked upon a 
 more genial, good-humoured face, yet one far 
 from deficient in intellect, than that he wears 
 at this moment, as he sits doing the honours 
 in his own jovial way. He may, perhaps, be 
 some fifteen years older than his wife. Their 
 daughter is beside him — she is a blended 
 likeness of both. — Stop, I must describe her, 
 for she is a vast pet of mine, and it is no 
 wonder her father is so proud of her, and so 
 happy in her ; more happy in only one thing 
 in the world. But I must not anticipate. 
 
 Eosamond Sheffield is under twenty, an 
 heiress, a beauty, and a "bel esprit," yet 
 still unspoiled. She owns as true and ten- 
 der a heart as ever beat in a woman's breast, 
 and to this fact her countenance bears convinc-
 
 58 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 ing testimony. It has a pure oval contour, and 
 possesses that exquisitely beautiful complexion 
 which is associated with hair that has but 
 narrowly escaped being red; that peculiar 
 golden-auburn tint characterised as looking 
 as if it held in its meshes ^'an imprisoned sun- 
 beam." Her eyes are well-shaped and lus- 
 trous, changeful in different lights, and varying 
 from nearly black to a soft grey, which in- 
 deed is their actual colour. She is a very 
 sylph in figure, though somewhat taller than 
 sylphs generally ; her arm is a perfect model ; 
 and she has the small hands and feet in- 
 dicative of, if not peculiar to, gentle blood. 
 
 Upon Mr. Sheffield's other side, in the place 
 of honour, sits a fine florid woman, who wears 
 a profusion of splendid diamonds. She is the 
 Countess of Bolsover, a distant relation of the 
 lady of the house, and now on a friendly visit 
 at Wentworth Manor. Few persons could wear 
 that bright, apple-green moire, and yet look so 
 thoroughly lady-like. Though crow's-feet have 
 invaded the corners of her eyes, and her brow 
 and neck are wrinkled, she is still "distinguee," 
 and has once been attractive if not absolutely
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 59 
 
 charming. Everyone knows that young girl 
 opposite must be her ladyship's daughter, she 
 is so like her. The aquiline nose is an exact 
 copy in miniature, so is the contemptuous 
 curl of the lip, a trifle perhaps too frequently 
 seen in the daughter, yet to the mother 
 habitual. We confess to having a very great 
 objection to seeing beautiful young ladies with 
 decided features, or salient peculiarities of any 
 kind, placed too near their mammas, particu- 
 larly if the latter be verging upon the antique. 
 A sketch is often far more interesting, as well 
 as powerful, before the shading is commenced. 
 Finish in the one, and maturity in the other, 
 frequently do away with the charm. If a 
 gentleman is struck by the features of his new 
 partner, and upon leading her to her chape- 
 ron discovers an exaggerated, sometimes 
 almost burlesqued counterpart of the very 
 charms that are fascinating him in the dem- 
 oiselle's physiognomy, the effect is apt to be 
 decidedly unfavourable. Somehow or other, 
 how great soever our inclination to admire, 
 the idea will suggest itself, that by-and-bye 
 that face, which now looks so attractive in the
 
 60 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 bloom and freshness of youth, will be just as 
 ugly, it may be, still uglier than the old lady's. 
 We observe with regret that the eyes, whose 
 almond shape we just now thought perfection, 
 become in advancing age a deformity ; that 
 the skin, so charming on account of its lily 
 whiteness or bright rose tint, is exactly what 
 mamma, now so yellow or so rubicund, as the 
 case may be, must have possessed at her 
 daughter's age ; that the slight embonpoint, 
 so admirable in mademoiselle, will probably, 
 like her mother's, end in positive obesity ; 
 that the pretty little simper, with which the 
 wax-doll face upon one's arm has regaled *one 
 for the last ten minutes, will be decidedly a 
 bore when it degenerates into the inane giggle 
 which characterises her " tender parient ; " 
 while lively, brilliant Miss Caustic's charming 
 repartees are of much the same material as 
 those which, we opine, have transmogrified 
 the respected Mrs. C. into a perfect shrew. 
 No ! if you want to look to advantage, young 
 ladies, take your little sisters, or your bosom 
 friends, these last are generally ill-favoured, 
 chosen indeed as foils, into your confidence,
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 61 
 
 .'uid get as far as possible, from mamma and 
 her sofa, or the seat beside her in the new 
 britska, which, as you know, always looks 
 so much better with Muff, the little King 
 Charles, reposing in it. 
 
 Next to her ladyship is placed a fine, 
 handsome young clergyman, who, although 
 he wears mourning studs in his shirt-front, 
 looks by no means in a state of despair, as an 
 occasional pleasant glance of intelligence be- 
 tween himself and Miss Sheffield testifies. The 
 earl is on the opposite side of the table, at 
 ]\Irs. Sheffield's left hand. He is, in position, 
 a cabinet minister, in appearance, a little 
 bald-headed man, and atones for severe re- 
 serve upon state secrets, by chattiness and 
 garrulity upon insignificant topics. He tells a 
 story remarkably well, in fact possesses the 
 two necessary concomitants of a facetious 
 talker, namely, a good memory, and a steady 
 face. 
 
 The affiiirs of the nation have been, to all 
 appearance, less weighty to him than the daily 
 search after a shilling, for subsistence, is to the 
 individual of meaner mould. The cares of life
 
 62 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 have not prevented him from scnipiiloiisly at- 
 tending to his personal appearance, and he is 
 decidedly ^^bien conserve." Added to this, 
 he has the usual official tact of never disheart- 
 ening an applicant by a direct negative, but 
 lets him wither on hope, whilst his secretary 
 replies to every application hut a titled one, that 
 ^^his lordship regrets he at present has nothing 
 worth his acceptance," though perhaps the 
 man is starving ! In a word, he can mystify 
 by verboseness, or significant silence ; promise 
 with most benevolent nefariousness, and break 
 hearts with a smile ! — Who can wonder that 
 he is a Cabinet minister ? 
 
 When we have mentioned the rector of the 
 parish and his wife, an amiable pair, though 
 exceedingly primitive, and two young officers 
 quartered in the neighbouring county town, 
 we have enumerated the entire party. One 
 seat alone was vacant, it was that beside Mrs. 
 Sheffield, on her right, and though the chair 
 remained there during the whole time of din- 
 ner, no one arrived to occupy it. 
 
 " Countess — a glass of wine ? " said Mr. 
 Sheffield, suiting the action to the word.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 63 
 
 Mrs. Sheffield looked quickly up, and 
 glanced at her ladyship^s countenance, to ob- 
 serve, as it appeared, whether she resented 
 the familiarity of the address. But the count- 
 ess was exchanging bows with the gentleman, 
 and the slight sneer, before mentioned, was 
 lost altogether in the friendly smile which 
 tha# of Mr. Sheffield had elicited. 
 
 The crimson spot that had flushed into the 
 pale cheek of the hostess vanished suddenly 
 as it had come, and a smile flitted across 
 her lip, as she said, continuing a conversa- 
 tion which had only paused for a moment : — 
 
 '^ And the letter contained no particulars?" 
 
 ^^My dear madam, what would you have? 
 The aflair has only just been commenced ; it 
 is a matter of ' yes or no ; ' all negotiations 
 beyond, would be at the present moment pre- 
 mature." 
 
 " Exactly ; your lordship's penetration will 
 avail itself of the proper moment. I leave it 
 in your hands.'' 
 
 " You may safely do so, believe me," was 
 the gallant reply; — "in fact," lowering his 
 voice, " pray consider your desire accom-
 
 64 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 plislied. I flatter myself my interest is not 
 on the wane, and depend upon it, it shall be 
 freely exerted in your cause." 
 
 Mrs. Sheffield bowed, and the smile flitted 
 from her lip to her eyes. 
 
 '' Is the report true," inquired the Eector, 
 forgetting, with true bucolic simplicity, the 
 impropriety of the question, as he glanced at 
 the statesman, '^ is it true that there is a pros- 
 pect of dissolution ? " 
 
 " My dear sir, excuse me," said the earl ; 
 '^ I was three years at court as a youngster, 
 and although meeting continually two persons, 
 who had been formerly friends, never knew 
 that they were not on good terms, until sud- 
 denly entering a room in the palace, a certain 
 remark fell upon my ear. ' It was not always 
 thus,' said the lady, as she haughtily swept by 
 her rival. So much for state secrecy." 
 
 ^' I am .^ure I hope the present party will 
 remain in," said Mr. Sheffield, ''for I could ill 
 afford to spend as much of my mercantile 
 capital, my time, as I did at the last election, 
 in canvassing. Popularity is a result dearly 
 purchased by the process."
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 65 
 
 " You will possess it involuntarily," said the 
 Earl, coraplimentarily. 
 
 ^^ Keally this is too bad," said Captain 
 Bellamy, looking sweet things at Lady Fanny 
 Denham. ^' Port wine and politics ought to 
 appear together, when the ladies leave." 
 
 "Indeed," returned the young lady, "I 
 like both, though the first more than the 
 last." 
 
 " Yet both are generally unsound," said 
 Mr. Sheffield, " and serve as stimulants, 
 according as they are doctored to suit the 
 passions of the mob." 
 
 " Ladies," observed the Earl, " are after 
 all our best diplomatists, inasmuch as they 
 invariably get their own way. Either by 
 insinuation, irritation, politeness, or perti- 
 nacity, women have always ruled the world of 
 cabinets, whether regulated by Burleigh or 
 Dundas." 
 
 " You refer to educated women? " inquired 
 Lady Fanny ; "for it is difficult to conceive 
 this power present, if unaccompanied by 
 refinement and fascination of manner." 
 
 "On the contrary, I have known some 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 uneducated persons, who completely asserted 
 this innate prerogative, this despotism of 
 mind. In fact/V added the Earl, demurely, 
 '^ I remember a circumstance in which all the 
 points 1 have referred to were exemplified in 
 what most people would consider a very ludic- 
 rous affair. I was the victim — I submitted." 
 
 " Of course under fear of constraint ? '^ said 
 the Rector, glancing at his wife. 
 
 " Well, I must admit my virago was 
 armed,'' said the Earl, equivocally. 
 
 " With her tongue, Ipresume ? " said Mr. 
 Sheffield. 
 
 '^ With an instrument equally cutting," said 
 the Earl, " a razor. In fact, the operation 
 bore a degree of analogy to the deceptiveness 
 of the sex, for she smoothed me over first." 
 
 " That is, ' soaped ' you, I suppose ? " sim- 
 pered the captain. 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 " Surely your lordship does not mean to 
 teU us that you endured the ineffable absurdity 
 of being shaved by a woman ? " said Mrs. 
 Sheffield, languidly. 
 
 " What could I do ? I tell you she was irre-
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 67 
 
 sistible ; you shall hear.* Happening to travel 
 in the west of England, my carriage broke 
 down, and I was obliged to leave my valet 
 behind, in charge of it, at a little village, whilst 
 1 posted on to the nearest town. Next morn- 
 ing, of course, I found that beards, like mis- 
 fortunes, come to every man ; and as I, per- 
 fectly unaccustomed to a self-operation, 
 should, most likely, had I attempted it, have 
 given occasion for an inquest, I inquired of the 
 waiter for a barber. He was gone about ten 
 minutes, and returned, or, rather, the barber- 
 ossa herself stalked majestically into my room. 
 *' Are you ready ? ' said she. ^ You mistake, 
 my good woman,' as I glanced with astonish- 
 ment at the figure before me, six feet high at 
 least, gaunt in proportion, a barber's apron, 
 with combs and razors scientifically disposed 
 in the pocket, the head with dark curls — 
 probably her own manufacture — large deep 
 Devonshire frilled cap, surmounted by a black 
 bonnet, of the old Cornish style, now extinct. 
 Looking at me under her dark brows, she 
 repeated the question, and added, in reply to 
 
 * The ensuing story is a fact, names only being altered. 
 
 f2
 
 68 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 my perplexed regard, ^ I tell you there is no 
 mistake. You want to be shaved. Here am 
 I with my razor. Had you wished to shave 
 yourself, you must have gone to the next 
 town. I am the only barber here. My 
 razor and I are inseparable ; we never part.' 
 
 " ^ Eeally/ I observed, getting a little 
 amused, ' I cannot suffer you to shave me. I 
 never was, — ' 
 
 a i Yery well, then ; I cannot stop to talk ; 
 this is Sir Edward Kerrison's morning, whose 
 family I have taken by the nose for five-and- 
 thirty years. You are from London, I sup- 
 pose ? ' peering into my face. ^ Ah ! I thought 
 so ; ' and she snapped her fingers contemptu- 
 ously. ^ They tell me you shave yourselves 
 generally, for London is such a roguish place, 
 that you are afraid of the barber's boy pick- 
 ing your pockets while his master's razor is at 
 your throat. We are honest people down here.' 
 
 " * And plain-spoken too,' I remarked. ^But, 
 seriously, will you not allow me to try for my- 
 self. I will pay you just the same ? ' 
 
 ^'^No, I tell you,' indignantly. 'Sit 
 down ; ' and without another word, she
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 69 
 
 placed a white cloth under my chin, and 
 the brush of lather passed in a twinkling over 
 my face, so that, had I opened my mouth, I 
 should certainly not have had a relish for my 
 breakfast. The next instant, drawing a strop 
 of a couple of feet long from her pocket, 
 with a loop at the end, she placed her foot in 
 the latter, and tightening the thong with 
 one hand, whetted the razor with dexter- 
 ous rapidity from end to end. Afterwards, 
 with a bow and incurvation of her figure, 
 which brought the black bonnet closely upon 
 me, squaring her elbow, and just pressing the 
 top of my nose with her thumb, extending the 
 other fingers of her left hand after the most 
 approved barber legerdemain, she performed 
 the rest of her task with such skill, that when 
 completed, like Narcissus, I was inclined to 
 fall in love with my own face, and having sat 
 down a satyr, rose up an ^imberbis Apollo.'" 
 When the laughter had a little subsided, — 
 " Her sex is at least indebted to her for 
 having vindicated it from its asserted inability 
 to cope with men, even with their own wea- 
 pons," said Miss Sheffield.
 
 70 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 "I may observe/' said the young clergyman, 
 Mr. Cameron, "that your lordship's case is 
 not without parallel, except as to the operation 
 having been involuntary upon your part. Dr. 
 Monsey was always shaved by a woman ; in 
 fact, he so detested male attendants, that 
 though a barber dressed his wig, he was never 
 allowed to come farther than the door." 
 
 " Women always excel where they con- 
 centrate their attention," said Mr. Sheffield ; 
 " and commend me to their perception, 
 whether in choosing a horse — " 
 
 " Or a husband," added Lady Bolsover, 
 with a significant glance at her daughter. 
 
 Mrs. Sheffield looked up anxiously. 
 
 " Talking about horses," said Captain 
 Bellamy, " what a magnificent rider Lady Di 
 Tilbury is ! You have heard, I suppose, that 
 she has won her bet ? " 
 
 " I have," said Mr. Sheffield, impressively, 
 " and regret it. The contrast between a pam- 
 pered stud and a neglected family is painful 
 indeed. I remember when I was travelling 
 for the house of Bloomeridge, across country — " 
 
 Mrs. Sheffield bit her lip violently. It was
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 71 
 
 fortunate that a servant handed something to 
 her husband at the moment, and distracted 
 that worthy gentleman's attention from the 
 continuation of his story. He resumed the 
 topic, only to remark gently, but feelingly, 
 upon a tale of woe which had reached him 
 relative to one of Mr. Tilbury's tenants, and 
 his daughter rewarded him for the sentiments 
 he expressed, with a sympathetic smile. 
 
 " I fear Darnley will not be here to-night," 
 said Mr. Cameron to Eosamond; "it is getting 
 late." 
 
 "I think not, too. Will you not have 
 that chair taken away, mamma? It looks 
 triste— " 
 
 " No, we won't give him up yet. He said 
 in his letter he should only leave Paris yester- 
 day; perhaps the weather was against him ; 
 and he only started this morning." 
 
 This set the Eector off. He began a story 
 about a bad passage he had upon the first and 
 only occasion of ever visiting the Continent, 
 and then touched upon the question of French 
 priesthood. His wife had heard it all at least 
 a hundred times before, and was glad to enter
 
 72 EAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 into conversation with her neighbour. Captain 
 Bellamy was busy supplying Lady Fanny with 
 a portion of the contents of a sweet dish before 
 him ; Cameron and Lady Bolsover chatted 
 in a low tone about young Darnley Sheffield's 
 non-appearance, and Mr. Sheffield was listening 
 to some remark from his daughter; so the 
 Earl got the entire benefit of the divine's 
 prosy harangue. The conversation was no 
 longer general ; and we will avail ourselves of 
 the opportunity of putting the reader au fait 
 to the antecedents of Mr. Sheffield, which 
 his lady seemed so fearful should be touched 
 upon. 
 
 Between forty and fifty years before the 
 date of our story, a boy, of perhaps eight or 
 nine years old, travelled up to Manchester on 
 foot, following a wagon, and was for charity 
 taken into the house of a well-to-do merchant 
 there, who happened to observe the little ex- 
 hausted pedestrian on the road, within a few 
 minutes' walk of his suburban dwelling. When 
 interrogated, the boy, who was fearfully igno- 
 rant, confessed that he had run away from a 
 step-father, a wheelwright in Westmoreland,
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 73 
 
 "who had ill-treated him ; and further added, 
 that he had a little sister, Eachel, who was the 
 only creature that he regretted parting from, as 
 his mother " had turned against him," as he 
 expressed it, ever since her second marriage. 
 Finally, he implored, with a flood of tears, 
 not to be sent back, but that he might be 
 allowed to seek his fortune in the beautiful 
 town, where he was sure there was " a power 
 of money " to be got for the asking. 
 
 Fortune favoured the poor child. Inquiries 
 were made, and the result was that he was 
 permitted to remain in his benefactor's house. 
 After a short time, a natural talent for a par- 
 ticular branch of mechanism was discovered in 
 him ; he was happy enough to make an inven- 
 tion which turned to account. Several friends 
 rose up around him. He was enterprising, 
 and, to a certain degree, ambitious. He edu- 
 cated himself, was unwearied in the pursuit of 
 improvement, laid by his savings with scrupu- 
 lous care, and, at the age of thirty, found 
 himself the possessor of as many thousand 
 pounds of His Majesty's current coin. 
 
 After this, gold came in almost more rapidly
 
 74 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 than he knew how, and he soon discovered the 
 truth of the adage, that ^* money makes 
 money/' for in a few years more, he was the 
 richest man in the neighhourhood where he 
 resided. 
 
 Up to this time, the business of young John 
 Sheffield's life had been to become wealthy ; 
 now he turned his attention to securing a 
 sharer in his "bonnes fortunes," nor was he 
 long in finding one. At a county ball he 
 met the Hon. Eosamond Darnley, grand- 
 daughter of the old Marquis of Hauton, 
 fell in love with, and successfully wooed her. 
 She was nineteen ; he just nine^and-thirty. 
 People said she was dazzled by his wealth, 
 and glad at any sacrifice to find a home where 
 she should no longer experience the privations 
 and annoyances of one shared with half-a- 
 dozen more portionless sisters. Her friends 
 were loud in their disgust at her degradation 
 of " some of the best blood in the kingdom." 
 Her father and mother only inquired tenderly 
 into the amount of settlement made by Mr. 
 Sheffield upon their daughter. They were 
 married.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 75 
 
 Deeply seated in the young wife's heart, 
 there was a sentiment which, although she 
 knew it not, exercised the influence most 
 potent over all the others, and this was, strange 
 to say, the pride of blood. She really loved 
 her husband ; she adored the twin children 
 who were born to her within the first 
 year of her union ; but she had miscalculated 
 her strength of purpose when she linked the 
 proud family of her ancestors with the parvenu 
 fortunes and name of Sheffield. She had not 
 realized the position she was to occupy, or 
 counted the cost in heartburnings and regrets 
 at the resignation of her privileged birth- 
 right. 
 
 The first time she became fully conscious 
 of the false position she occupied, was upon 
 the occasion of her meeting with her husband's 
 only sister, the poor little forsaken Rachel, 
 who, after the death of her stepfather, had 
 gone to Dover with her mother, who 
 had relations there. Rachel was now an 
 elderly spinster, supported almost entirely by 
 the liberality of her wealthy brother. Worse 
 evils happened shortly after, than the intro-
 
 76 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 duction to a relative she was ashamed of, and 
 one whom warm-hearted John Sheffield was 
 everlastingly, in the kindness of his heart, 
 urging upon her affection. Money was 
 scarcely then the all that men make it now ; 
 it was more uncommon to see birth bow before 
 the golden calf. Poor Mrs. Sheffield went to 
 spend a season in town, and here no end of 
 mortifications awaited her. Her most intimate 
 friends affected not to see her, when she met 
 them at the opera or in the park. Her very 
 relations, although Mr. Sheffield had liberally 
 dowered two of the daughters, and bought 
 a commission for the son, refused to see her 
 unless she came alone ; and her uncle, the 
 Marquis, who had now succeeded his father, 
 refused to stand sponsor for her infant son 
 upon any other condition than that it was the 
 last time the honour should be requested of 
 him or of any member of his family. They 
 could admit the manufacturer's money to 
 their intimacy, but not himself 
 
 And yet Mr. Sheffield was by no means a 
 vulgar man ; his talents were undoubted, his 
 manners gentle, and full of native refinement ;
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 77 
 
 his heart in the right place, for he had a sym- 
 pathy with everything good, and true, and 
 noble ! He was one of Nature's peers. 
 
 One night the husband, on returning home 
 from his counting-house, found his wife in 
 tears. She was too proud to complain, but he 
 gathered from her, that she had been into the 
 country to pay a visit that morning, and had 
 met with a reception almost amounting to in- 
 sult. Stung with the sense of wrong, and 
 grieved 'to witness her annoyance, the mer- 
 chant, sensitive as energetic, registered a vow to 
 place his wife above the repetition of such evils ; 
 and with him to imagine was to accomplish. 
 
 He now seconded all Mrs. Sheffield's 
 schemes, was occasionally ambitious, even 
 as she was, and gi'adually, by unrelaxing tact, 
 even more than by the liberal employment 
 of money, acquired an important standing in 
 society. But he scorned to conceal or gloss 
 over his origin. This was a point on which 
 not all his wife's eloquence could move him. 
 He was proud of his name — yes, proud as 
 she had been of hers ; but with how much 
 more reason ! — and intended, as he
 
 78 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 said, so to dignify it by his actions, that she 
 should not be ashamed to own it beside the 
 highest pedigrees in England. He would be 
 the founder of a race. 
 
 So time passed on. A year before the date 
 of our story, Mrs. Sheffield had accomplished 
 her heart's desire, and seen her husband take 
 his seat in Parliament. Her son had com- 
 pleted his education, and had gone to travel 
 with his tutor, Mr. Cameron, in France, whilst 
 her daughter had parted with her governess, 
 and been introduced into the world with all 
 the eclat which could be thrown into that in- 
 teresting occasion. Was the Hon. Mrs. Shef- 
 field satisfied ? No ! 
 
 But we are digressing too long. See ! Lady 
 Bolsover rises in obedience to a gesture from 
 her hostess. The dessert has been put on the 
 table while we have been talking, and now the 
 ladies are about to leave the room. One by 
 one they pass, as Mr. Sheffield holds the door 
 open for their egress ; and Mr. Cameron, who 
 stands beside him^ gives a long, lingering look 
 at the slender figure of Kosamond as she, 
 the last, glides near him with a gentle bow.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 79 
 
 " How your mother droops over her son's 
 absence," said Lady Fanny to her companion 
 as they entered the drawing-room, " it was 
 really sad to see her face, so anxious, so dis- 
 appointed, whenever a noise was heard, or 
 a servant hastily entered the dining- 
 room." 
 
 Mrs. Sheffield was in delicate health, and 
 looked so. She had gone straight to an arm- 
 chair, and sunk in it listlessly; while Lady 
 Bolsover and the Kector's wife walked up to 
 the fire, and warmed themselves at the cheer- 
 ful blaze. She was as white as a sheet. 
 
 ^' My mother is devoted to Darnley," said 
 Rosamond, with a sigh. 
 
 " So it seems. By-the-by, she put an album 
 full of his drawings into my hands before 
 dinner. He seems a sort of admirable Crich- 
 ton, and can do everything. Let us go and 
 look at them ; they were very pretty." 
 
 The two young girls seated themselves be- 
 side a sofa-table covered with pictures. Eosa- 
 mond gave Lady Fanny the book with a 
 smile ; as she did so, she observed her mother's 
 eyes were upon her. She returned the glance,
 
 80 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 and the smile her face still wore met a .nod 
 of approval. 
 
 " Tell me something about this brother of 
 yours ? " was the request, resulting from a 
 survey of the first two or three pages of young 
 Sheffield's drawings. 
 
 '' What am I to tell you ? " 
 
 " Oh ! tell me what he is like ; whether he 
 resembles your dear, manly, frank-hearted 
 father, or is willowy and graceful, and cold 
 as an icicle — like — I really beg pardon, Mrs. 
 Sheffield." 
 
 " Oh ! that is soon done. Darnley is the 
 image of my mother, though no icicle. Nei- 
 ther is she, if you only knew her perfectly. 
 She is the kindest, tenderest of parents, and 
 so sympathising. I have never had any other 
 friend — that is, of my own sex." 
 
 *^ Do you love your brother ? " 
 
 *^ Love him ! Don't you know we are twins, 
 and there is always said to be something re- 
 markable in the love of twins for each other ? 
 Darnley could not suffer, and I be happy. I 
 should remark every reflection of his counte- 
 nance, and know instantly — for I should feel
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 81 
 
 it too, if he were — body or mind — in 
 pain." 
 
 "And so your brother and Mr. Cameron 
 went abroad together last year? What a 
 nuisance, Mrs. Cameron, his mother, dying ! 
 The pupil has had a whole year's travel, with- 
 out anybody to take care of him. Pretty 
 dear ! he will be longing to get back to his 
 mother's apron-string." 
 
 '' Wait and see, Darnley is as manly 
 as my father, whom you so admire. His 
 letters are charming, full of incident, and 
 perfect gems in their way ; latterly, they have 
 been greatly altered in style ; I don't think — 
 I am afraid — so far from being mother-sick, 
 that he is not glad to come home— that from 
 some strange cause, unexplained, he dreads 
 seeing us again. Even now I should not be 
 surprised — " 
 
 There was a sharp ring at the door-bell ; it 
 echoed through the house. Mrs. Sheffield 
 started up, and, despite her usual self-com- 
 mand, clasped her hands together. 
 
 " Be calm, dearest mamma ! " said 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 KAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 Rosamond, rushing to her side — "pray be 
 calm." 
 
 The footman thew open wide the painted 
 folding- doors of the saloon. 
 
 Mr. Darnley Sheffield I
 
 83 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CROSS PURPOSES. 
 
 Most of us have frequently experienced the 
 complete disappointment which constantly re- 
 wards long expectation, when meeting with 
 those we love. After the first few agitated 
 sentences have been spoken, a pause ensues; 
 neither party has a word to say, although the 
 hoarded confidence of months is struggling 
 within for utterance. A veil has involuntarily 
 fallen between two hearts, formerly, perhaps, 
 reflections of each other ; and until it is lifted 
 by continued intercourse, looks exchanged, 
 
 g2
 
 84 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 inquiries breathed with, perchance, a sweet, 
 tender fear, the mind is unsatisfied, the heart 
 restless, the manner constrained, nay, even 
 chill. 
 
 This fact was never more strikingly ex- 
 emplified than upon the evening of young 
 Sheffield's return, with regard to his mother 
 and sister in their first interview with him- 
 self. True, he met them with the same 
 eagerness; the buoyant smile, the speaking 
 gesture, the affectionate exclamation, which 
 had rewarded the mother's devotion, from the 
 time her boy had brought joy and gladness 
 home to the quiet house at his first holidays, 
 were all there; but still the light quickly 
 faded, the cheek flushed with fitful co- 
 lour, the voice hesitated, occasionally broke 
 off in abstraction. Both Mrs. Sheffield and 
 Rosamond were painfully conscious that there 
 was a something — a shade between themselves, 
 and the cherished object of their interest. 
 They could not tell how it was. The fault 
 was certainly not his, they said to themselves, 
 willingly catching at the deceptive cloud 
 with which affection seeks to veil the
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 85 
 
 too stern lines of Truth. Yet the evil 
 was evident ; and both sighed as they looked 
 at Darnley, and wished that it had hap- 
 pened he had arrived in the morning, and 
 could have sprung in with the old accus- 
 tomed bound of lighthearted happiness when 
 nobody was by. 
 
 How much he was improved ! Mrs. Shef- 
 field's heart palpitated as she looked at him, 
 and ever and anon her lip quivered, and she 
 put her hand to her side. The countenance 
 of Eosamond beamed with a gentle smile, as 
 her eyes followed the outline of his features ; 
 never, she thought, had they rested upon so 
 interesting, so speaking a face ! Yes ! a year 
 had worked wonders — he had gone away a 
 wild, wayward youth — he returned a refined 
 and earnest man ! '^ And oh ! '' thought the 
 young girl, who knew and deplored the 
 principal, we had almost said, the only fault 
 her beloved brother evinced, " if Darnley is 
 only improved in one thing, if the decision 
 which seems to me to give fresh intensity to 
 the lines of that curved lip is only actual, if 
 he is no longer infirm of purpose, but has
 
 86 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 mental strength to pursue the right path when 
 once entered on, mj brother will be perfect." 
 Alas ! poor Rosamond ! before the evening 
 closed, she was distressingly convinced how 
 delusive her sisterly hopes were. 
 
 Mr. Sheffield's meeting with his son was 
 marked with little demonstration, but a close 
 observer might have discovered a world of 
 meaning in the cordial salutation, " Why, 
 Darnley, my boy ! home at last ! " and watched 
 the hand linger with a touching caress upon 
 the shoulder of his son, before he passed 
 on to rejoin the guests. 
 
 The days we write of were the good old 
 days of quadrille and whist, when those two 
 delectable games, to be sure, were going 
 slightly out of fashion, though still favourite 
 pastimes with almost all elderly people, who 
 spent many a friendly hour over the card 
 table; not playing high enough to gamble, but 
 as much interested in the success of the game 
 as if their stakes quadrupled the amount. The 
 Countess and Captain Bellamy, the Earl and 
 the Eector — the latter of whom preferred a 
 game at whist to every earthly thing, except
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 87 
 
 his bottle of port wine after dinner — sat down 
 to play, and the rest of the party grouped 
 themselves as they listed, about the spacious 
 drawing room. 
 
 "I suppose I must not say you are grown," 
 said the good-natured little wife of the divine 
 as Darnley drew a seat next to the sofa she 
 occupied, — " and yet you seem to me quite a 
 head taller than when you left England. Let 
 me see, how long is it that you have been 
 away ? " 
 
 " More than a year, and it has passed 
 like a dream." 
 
 ^^ You have been so happy ? Well, there is 
 nothing like travel for young people. I 
 always think it is such folly stopping until one 
 is old, and then pretending to enjoy a foreign 
 trip. The relish is gone — the body perhaps 
 become unequal to the exertion. We have 
 lost the excitement of youth, and with it the 
 power of receiving pleasure from the same 
 sources. Did you find your tutor a pleasant 
 companion ? " 
 
 " Excellent ! Cameron is a capital fel- 
 low, but whether he fidgeted about his
 
 88 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 mother's healthy or what it was, I don't know, 
 he seemed anxious to get home even before 
 news came of the accident which ultimatelj 
 killed her. He was only with me a short 
 time." 
 
 *^ Did you come direct from Paris ? Your 
 mother has been sadly anxious the last two 
 days, and feared you might have started in 
 that dreadful storm." 
 
 " I was in England when it came on. For- 
 tunately I had crossed in the afternoon, when 
 the weather was comparatively calm. I slept 
 at Dover, and came up this morning." 
 
 " Slept at Dover, did you ? " said Mr. 
 Sheffield, who had approached as his son 
 uttered the words. 
 
 " Yes ; I went to see my Aunt E-achel." 
 
 *^ That was kind and like you, Darnley ; 
 the old lady was charmed to see her tall 
 nephew ? " 
 
 " Of course. I had a difficulty to get 
 away. She looks older and thinner, though 
 I wish you could persuade her to set up a 
 different establishment. Her cottage appeared 
 to me more wretched than ever. And her
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 89 
 
 one little maid-servant had gone out to gossip 
 with the fisherman on the beach, and left me 
 to announce myself." 
 
 ^^ Poor Rachel ! It is useless ; she is too 
 independent to accept a farthing. I think I 
 have tried every means — anonymous gifts — 
 any mode by which I conceived I might im- 
 prove the little income upon which she chooses 
 to subsist. All were fruitless : my presents 
 have invariably either found their way back to 
 me, or into the poor-box of some charitable 
 institution." 
 
 " Here is Mrs. Sheffield," said the Rector's 
 wife, demurely — she understood the position 
 of affairs, and had often heard the question of 
 Aunt Rachel discussed — and the hint was 
 taken, both gentleman stopped. 
 
 *^ Darnley, dear," said the mother, coming 
 up and laying a feverish hand upon her son's, 
 — " Rosamond will be so glad if you will sing 
 with her ; you are not too tired, I think. 
 Pray go to the piano, and break this long 
 silence. Lady Fanny looks completely bored ; 
 see, she scarcely answers that young officer, 
 though he is bent on making himself agreeable.
 
 90 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 ^^Oh, that is Lady Fanny Denham, tlien?" said 
 Darnley, as he crossed the room with Cameron, 
 to obey his mother's behest. ^' In the hurry 
 of my entrance I scarcely heard the name. 
 Surely that cannot be the girl my mother has 
 written me such praises of." 
 
 " Don't you admire her, really now ? " was 
 tlie reply, with a sly smile. ^^ What will Mrs. 
 Sheffield say ? I imagine she thinks her per- 
 fection." 
 
 '^ The lady, or her name, which ? " said 
 young Sheffield, in the same tone. " She 
 possesses precisely the sort of face I detest. 
 Look at those unmeaning tresses, eyes, hair, 
 lips, complexion, are shades of the same colour. 
 She has an aristocratic bearing unquestionably; 
 her head is nicely placed upon her shoulders ; 
 but that nose, it looks only made for a pair 
 of spectacles, and the sooner she puts them 
 on the better — see, how close she holds the 
 book to her eyes ! " 
 
 If Darnley had known that the young lady, 
 whose merits he was at that moment so freely 
 discussing, was occupied in a covert scrutiny 
 of his own features, which she was carelessly
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 91 
 
 transferring to the fly-leaf of the book she was 
 apparently reading, it is probable that he 
 would have either been very angry or exceed- 
 ingly pleased ; but she remained undetected, 
 while Cameron went on. 
 
 " And yet Lady Fanny is considered charm- 
 ing by many men, Bellamy among the 
 number, who even now is enraged beyond all 
 bounds at being chained to the table yonder, 
 and keeps looking over the backs of his cards 
 every instant to see whether she glances his 
 way." 
 
 " He is welcome to his taste. Mine lies in 
 a wholly different style. Give me dark glossy 
 tresses — curling if possible — a firm broad 
 brow, but yet not as high quite as her lady- 
 ship's ; full large eyes, the expression of which 
 one may see in profile — impossible there I 
 should say — and a complexion more emulous 
 of comparison with the soft, full whiteness of 
 the water-lily than of the ruddy glories of the 
 rose.'' 
 
 *^Ah, now you are getting poetical. One 
 would think you were describing the charms 
 of that pretty little actress we met at Baden.
 
 92 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 Is it possible that you have not forgotten her 
 yet?" 
 
 Cameron stopped short, for the angry blood 
 had mounted to the forehead of his com- 
 panion, his eyes flashed, and a furious reply 
 was on his lips. The quondam tutor gazed 
 with surprise at the young man's changed 
 countenance. 
 
 " Good heavens ! Darnley, have I said any- 
 thing to offend you ? " 
 
 "No, no, Cameron," was the reply ac- 
 corded to the distressed expression of the 
 face, as much as to the words — " it was 
 nothing; forget it ; I am afraid I am not 
 in the mood for jests to-night; — spare me!" 
 
 Glancing round, to be assured they had not 
 been overheard, he moved away, with a half 
 fearful, half moody air, and, as if in very per- 
 verseness, went up to where Lady Fanny was 
 sitting, and threw himself listlessly beside her. 
 Cameron watched him with an anxious 
 expression of face, observed the half resentful 
 gesture with which the young lady received ad- 
 vances it was evident she considered too care- 
 lessly proffered ; saw her shut her book and
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 93 
 
 abandon her reading, as Darnley was drawn into 
 making some observation which apparently 
 provoked her reluctant interest; and finally be- 
 held her turn towards him with a glance of 
 pleasure and surprise, to reply. Perplexed 
 and " gene," it was a relief to the young 
 clergyman to ensconce himself behind Rosa- 
 mond, who was warbling, with perfect empha- 
 sis and intonation, one of Malibran's favourite 
 songs, while Lady Bolsover stood alternately 
 yawning and beating time near. Mrs Shef- 
 field had also approached, and listened with 
 undisguised pleasure to the rich tones of her 
 daughter's voice. 
 
 '^ And now for Darnley," said the latter, 
 as she rose and blushingly met the glance of 
 her absorbed hearer. ^^ Did you not say you 
 would fetch Darnley, mamma ? " 
 
 Mrs. Sheffield looked round and discovered 
 her son. in his distant corner. She replied 
 hurriedly, but smilingly: — 
 
 *^No, no, Rosamond, leave him alone; 
 presently will do. Is my harp in tune ? 
 I will accompany you. Get that beautiful 
 Welsh air."
 
 94 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 Eosamond looked pleased. Her mother 
 was generally too listless, if not positively iD, 
 to play with her ; but Mrs. Sheffield, had 
 been, when in practice, a first-rate harp per- 
 former, always gratifying even a musical 
 audience ; and there was nothing Rosamond 
 liked better than to play with her, her 
 father's favourite pieces. 
 
 "Where is your book to be found, Miss 
 Sheffield ? " said Cameron, as he turned over 
 the music-stand in search of it. "Let me 
 look ? " He was already on one knee. 
 
 " Thank you ; it is among these loose pieces. 
 You will have a treat. My mother plays it 
 gloriously." 
 
 " She leaned forward and indicated the 
 portfolio ; as she did so, assisting the search, 
 whilst he held it open, and glancing at the 
 title of each successive piece of music, her rich 
 tresses fell over against his cheek. The pulse 
 of the lover — for lover he was, though he had 
 but newly known it — received a decided ac- 
 celeration. The temptation was too great — 
 no one was looking — Eosamond herself would 
 be unaware ; he lifted the fragrant ringlets,
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 95 
 
 and pressed them hurriedly to his lips, 
 while the touch sent a thrill to his 
 heart; the next moment she had risen, 
 music in hand. 
 
 But if the young man fancied his gesture 
 had been unobserved, he was wrong. One 
 person had watched it, and one only, but that 
 person, unfortunately, was Mrs. Sheffield. 
 When Kosamond brought the piece to 
 place before her mother on the stand, the per- 
 former was no longer willing to make use of 
 it. Pushing the harp away with a hasty ges- 
 ture, Mrs Sheffield rose, and expressing her 
 inability to play a note, approached her son. 
 Were all her hopes of her daughter's aggran- 
 disement to be frustrated by an attachment 
 to a poor tutor without a shilling in the world, 
 nor even the definite hope of a curacy ? She 
 hardly knew — for the idea had never before 
 occurred to her — if Eosamond encouraged him. 
 She trusted not; but however it was, she 
 determined they should meet as little as pos- 
 sible during the remainder of his visit, the 
 period of which must be hastened by every 
 means in her power.
 
 96 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 Darnley and his companion were getting on 
 charmingly. 
 
 *^ And you haven't said a single word of your 
 travels yet," Lady Fanny was saying ; " I ex- 
 pected to have heard of nothing else ; and so 
 far from finding myself in the company of 
 ' the monkey who has seen the world,' I meet 
 with a very sensible young ape, indeed, whose 
 conversation — ah, well! but I won't flatter 
 you." 
 
 ^^ I have no ambition to play the part your 
 ladyship alludes to. Swift says, you know, 
 that, ^ usually speaking, the worst bred person 
 in the company is a young traveller returned 
 from abroad.' Nothing can be more opposed 
 to my intentions ; indeed I should completely 
 forget my principles, did I make dear self 
 sufficiently prominent for this enviable pur- 
 pose. 
 
 " I hope they are not coming to take 
 you away to the piano. Here is your lady 
 mother." 
 
 " You play or sing, do you not? " 
 
 '' Neither." 
 
 ^^ Don't you like music ? "
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 97 
 
 " I believe not. It is only occasionally 
 that I meet any one who I care to hear. 
 Yes ! I think I have not music in my 
 soul.^^ 
 
 " Have you brought home any new French 
 songs ? " said Mrs Sheffield to her son ; and her 
 countenance had by this time recovered its 
 serenity. ^* Lady Fanny, you like French airs, 
 of course ? ^' 
 
 *^ To-morrow, my dear mother ! not to- 
 night. I shall want all my powers of voice 
 and execution to make a convert of this lady 
 here, who professes herself indifferent to the 
 magic of sweet sounds. Ah ! your friends 
 are departing." 
 
 " So, — double, single, and the rub," said 
 the rector, as he rose from the card- table. 
 " Pretty well for once, I think. Good night, 
 Mrs. Sheffield. Come, Maria, my dear. 
 Good night, Sheffield. I had no idea it was 
 so late." 
 
 The party was soon broken up. Those per- 
 sons remaining in the house took their tapers 
 and disappeared. 
 
 " I have much to say to you, Rosamond, 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 love ;" whispered Darnley, as he pressed her 
 hand. ^^I will first speak to my father, and 
 join you in your dressing-room. My mother 
 is gone, I think." 
 
 Rosamond fancied there was a degree of 
 tremulousness in his manner as he thus spoke ; 
 but, delighted at the prospect of the promised 
 conversation, she ran lightly upstairs, and bid- 
 ding Lady Fanny good night, hurried on to her 
 own room. Here, hastily removing her even- 
 ing dress, and replacing it by a loose 
 peignoir, she seated herself after dismissing 
 her maid ; and, shutting her eyes, endeav- 
 oured to pass in review the occurrences of the 
 evening. 
 
 From Mrs. Sheffield's manner, Rosamond 
 felt now completely satisfied of what hitherto 
 she had only surmised — that her mother had 
 invited the Bolsovers to Wentworth Manor 
 with the hope and intention of securing the 
 hand of their daughter for her beloved son. 
 Too cautious to have breathed a syllable of her 
 project to her daughter, Rosamond was doubt- 
 ful if her father even had been made a party 
 to it; but Mrs. Sheffield's countenance had
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 99 
 
 more than once betrayed her, and Rosamond 
 saw easily that this plan was deeply cherished 
 in her heart, and would, doubtless, be accom- 
 plished ; for though outwardly indifferent, an 
 idea once admitted into her mother's mind was 
 generally realised. 
 
 For her own part, the scheme was not un- 
 pleasing to her, though, when the close attach- 
 ment that had subsisted from the days of 
 infancy between herself and her twin brother 
 was considered, it is possible Rosamond's 
 sisterly jealousy found a pang in the thought 
 that a new world, from which she would be 
 excluded, was opening to him, who hitherto 
 had seemed scarcely to have a thought she did 
 not share. She liked Lady Fanny, but at the 
 same time felt considerable doubt as to the 
 realisation of the youthful dream of Darnley's 
 heart, so often painted by him for her edifi- 
 cation. And then the parents of the young 
 lady — how would their consent be ensured? 
 It was possible they also were ambitious for 
 their daughter ; she owned an ancient name, 
 and would inherit, if not a large fortune, at 
 least one commensurate with the expectations
 
 100 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 of most admirers. Rosamond foresaw diffi- 
 culty to Mrs. Sheffield's schemes, if not 
 complete failure. Whatever happened, she 
 dreaded to think of her brother's marrying a 
 woman to whom he was indifferent, and who 
 might also be indifferent to him, for she 
 imagined the heart of Lady Fanny was formed 
 of not very plastic elements. 
 
 Rosamond began to brush out the waving 
 tresses of her long chestnut hair. Darnley 
 was tardy in coming, and yet how she yearned 
 for his appearance! — he might guess that. 
 The young girl blushed as she looked at the 
 reflection of her countenance in the glass ; her 
 eyes appeared to have more lustre than usual, 
 the rich glories which crowned her head de- 
 scended in shining waves around her counte- 
 nance. What had been said about those tresses 
 in the evening, which made the colour linger 
 on her cheek ? — If she could have dreamed of 
 the caress which was lurking unsuspected 
 among them, her blushes would have burned 
 still more brightly. She held her taper above, 
 and as she did so her hand trembled. " It is 
 all Darnley's coming back,'^ she murmured
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 101 
 
 and tried to smile, but as she did so a strange 
 presentiment of evil crossed her heart. She 
 rose hastily — '^ Why does he not come? " she 
 whispered to herself; "something is wrong. 
 I will go and seek him/' and she laid her hand 
 upon the lock. 
 
 A tap at the door arrested her ; she opened 
 it, and found herself face to face with the 
 object of her solicitude. She recoiled with an 
 exclamation of astonishment. 
 
 The half hour that had intervened since she 
 saw him had altogether altered Darnley's 
 appearance. His face was unnaturally pale, 
 and Rosamond now noticed that his eyes were 
 haggard and blood-shot. She was so close that 
 she could accurately observe the lines of his 
 countenance, and their expression frightened 
 her, they were so contracted by distress, 
 doubt, and perplexity. He seemed to dread 
 her scrutiny, and turned aside as he put her 
 gently from him, and closed the door. Rosa- 
 mond could see that his eyes were brimming 
 with tears. 
 
 "Let me go, child; what do you look so 
 grieved for ? There is nothing the matter with
 
 102 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 me ; come, take these pinioning arms from my 
 neck." 
 
 She obeyed, and seated herself beside him. 
 He began to speak again, abruptly, and as 
 suddenly stopped; then steadying his voice 
 with an effort — 
 
 " 1 told you I had much to say to you, my 
 sister; it is a difficult and a painful task to say 
 it, but it must be done. Eosamond, I have 
 your sympathy whatever happens, — have I 
 not?" 
 
 She pressed his hand. This grave preamble 
 surprised and alarmed her ; no word found 
 utterance on her lips. 
 
 "Thank you. Eosamond, darling, do you 
 remember how you and I sat that night in the 
 arbour at the extremity of the terrace, and 
 looking over the rich landscape with the 
 strange brimming feeling of youth just merg- 
 ing into manhood, T sketched the creature who 
 should sway my destinies, the moon to the 
 tides of my wayward heart ? " 
 
 ** Dear Darnley, yes ! how could I forget 
 it? I remember thinking at the time how 
 unlike I was to the being your fancy created.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 1 03 
 
 I wept the whole night about it; the next 
 morning you were off to college. You jested 
 at the glorious vision, when I recalled it to 
 you on your return." 
 
 "Eosamond, I have found her. I am in 
 love ! " 
 
 The sister had been thinking so much of 
 Lady Fanny, that for a moment the idea of 
 her as the object of love at first sight pre- 
 sented itself to her mind. She knew how 
 blind the heart is in its impulses — it was pos- 
 sible Darnley believed her all he said. But 
 this fancy was abandoned as soon as formed. 
 
 *' How long since ? Tell me the how, the 
 when, and the where," she said, with an at- 
 tempt at gaiety. 
 
 ^* You couldn't blame me — you would never 
 turn upon me ? " he inquired, gazing at her 
 anxiously. 
 
 '^ Dear boy, never ! Why should you dream 
 of such a thing? Come, tell me all; who is 
 she ? when shall we see her ? — it never entered 
 her head he could be unsuccessful, — will she 
 love me, think you ? Oh ! Darnley, for the 
 sake of our old tried affection, I hope she will." 
 
 i 
 \
 
 104 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 The eyes of the speaker were suffused with 
 tears. 
 
 Darnley put his arms tenderly around his 
 sister. ^^ Love you — who could help it ? She 
 will love you even as your own brother. 
 Hush ! listen, darhng, I will tell you a secret. 
 She and I — we are — '' 
 
 There was a sound in the gallery, and then 
 the voice of Mr. Sheffield talking to a favourite 
 hound, which always slept at his door. He 
 was coming up to his chamber. 
 
 Whatever Darnley had meant to say was 
 for the moment lost. The sound of his father's 
 voice seemed to have dissipated every attempt 
 at composure. Kosamond trembled as he 
 paced the room with hurried steps. ** Pshaw ! 
 let us talk of something else," he muttered, 
 and as he spoke he looked anxiously at the 
 door. The old indecision — the old dread 
 instability of purpose! Eosamond's heart 
 fell. 
 
 She ventured to say, after a pause of some 
 minutes, during which he never ceased his 
 walk to and fro— ''^ Well ! " 
 
 ^'Well, what, Rosamond? Did I not say
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 105 
 
 we would talk of something else? These 
 Bolsovers, — tell me about them. How long 
 do they stay here? Is Cameron one of the 
 party, too ? How well, how handsome he is 
 looking ! 
 
 The tell-tale blood crossed Miss Sheffield's 
 face ; she had not calculated upon such a turn 
 to the conversation. 
 
 " Ah ! you are my own dear sister — how 
 happy I am to be near you again," he said, 
 gazing tenderly at her brilliant countenance. 
 " You shall know everything, Eosy. 
 
 " We have never had a secret yet, Darnley ; 
 I don't think you could keep one from me. 
 Twin hearts, twin instincts, twin sympathies ! '' 
 
 A slight contraction passed over Darnley's 
 countenance ; but he came and seated himself 
 beside her. "Now, dear, listen: you shall 
 hear all. I reckon much upon your aid — for, 
 ah ! Eosamond, there will be difficulties to 
 surmount. — Stop,* let me begin at the begin- 
 ning." 
 
 Eosamond laid her head, with a confiding 
 gesture, on his shoulder. 
 
 "It is now, you know, just twelve months
 
 106 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 ago since I wrote to you from Baden, whither 
 Cameron and I first turned our steps. You 
 may remember I sent you a strange, wild, in- 
 coherent effusion — what I wrote I could hardly 
 have told you, even while the letter was open 
 before me. I was mad, I believe ; I had then 
 seen her on several occasions. She was my 
 ^Kismet.''' 
 
 "So long ago, brother ?'' said Rosamond, 
 softly, and a little reproachful pressure fell 
 upon his hand." 
 
 " Don't blame me, Rosamond, for your life,' 
 — there was a degree of violence in his manner 
 — " I have blamed myself bitterly enough. 
 Yes ; I have kept my secret a whole long 
 year; but I cannot bear reproof Now 
 attend, I am going to tell you how it hap- 
 pened." 
 
 '^ Darnley," said Rosamond, looking up with 
 a tearful face, — " one word before you proceed. 
 You will answer me kindly, but I ought to 
 ask the question, and now promise me — you 
 will not be offended. I don't anticipate 
 dear, any contretemps, but this lady — 
 this love of yours — is she of station equal
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 107 
 
 to ours ? Is she a fitting bride for you ? Re- 
 member, our mother is ambitious. Oh ! Darn- 
 ley, I think a ' mesalliance ' would kill 
 her.'' 
 
 The young man turned very pale. " Rosa- 
 mond/' he said, " I shall hate you if you 
 agitate such questions. From you, at least, I 
 feared none of these contemptible scruples. 
 Hush ! — oh ! sister, forgive me, I scarcely know 
 what I say. But what do you say, Rosamond — 
 equal to ourselves? — oh! yes — our father 
 boasts of his origin. What would you have 
 more?" 
 
 Rosamond's heart stood for a moment still. 
 It was well she was spared the necessity of 
 reply. The faint rustle of a silk dress, and 
 the slowly unclosing door, announced Mrs. 
 Sheffield. 
 
 " I thought I should find you here, Darn- 
 ley," said the mother, coming forward, and 
 seating herself in a large arm-chair beside the 
 fire. ^' Did you think I should sleep in peace 
 until I had seen you, and told you of my joy 
 at your return. My life ! how you are al- 
 tered!"
 
 108 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 She had drawn him to the seat beside her, 
 and was passing her hand fondly over his 
 curls — all she could see, for the face was 
 turned downwards. 
 
 " Come here, Eose I How glad we are to 
 have him back, are we not? It has never 
 been the same house since, has it ? 
 
 Mrs. Sheffield made this — to her daughter — 
 complimentary speech,m putting her arm round 
 the latter's slight waist, and drawing her 
 towards her. They both saw she was agitated, 
 and Kosamond felt her forehead throb as she 
 leaned it against her. " I must not stay, my 
 darlings — it grows late. Oh ! what a happy 
 mother I should be — I am ! Listen, children ; 
 I want you to make me one promise — here, 
 just as we are now — my arm around you, 
 Rosamond, Darnley's hand in mine.'' 
 
 They both looked up at her tremblingly. 
 
 '' Mother ! " 
 
 ^^ That's right, children. Oh ! never forget 
 that you are mine — that I have bought your 
 love with sacrifice, with heartburnings, with 
 the devotion of silent hours. Unsympathized 
 with, uucared for, forsaken by the world, I
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 109 
 
 delighted to call you mine — weeping through 
 long and desolate nights, your heritage and 
 that I had resigned ! " 
 
 Darnley would have moved, but she de- 
 tained him with her slender hand. Her 
 words were principally addressed to Rosamond, 
 and she gazed with painful earnestness into 
 her face. " This is what I wanted you to 
 promise, my precious ones ! My care must be 
 repaid ; you will realise my hopes ; you will 
 not shipwreck all I have planned, and strug- 
 gled, and wept for, by forgetting that I am 
 the disposer of your destinies, ; it is I you 
 must consult, when the time shall arrive for 
 your fate to be decided. Now promise — say 
 both of you^ — swear it to me — that no feeling 
 of love shall ever be nourished in your hearts 
 unauthorised by me. Say, Rosamond, that 
 you are free — free as the flame of that bright 
 lamp yonder. Come, my child, come ! " 
 
 ''Indeed — indeed, I am, mamma," said the 
 poor girl, weeping. 
 
 '' It is enough, my child. There is no need 
 for more. And as for Darnley, I know his 
 heart — I never doubted him. My noble, my
 
 110 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 beautiful boy, you will justify all my prognos- 
 tications, will you not ? " 
 
 As she spoke, the hand that she caressed 
 dropped cold and powerless from her own. 
 There was a convulsive sigh, a sob of anguish, 
 a cold dew breaking from every pore, and 
 Darnley glided from his seat and sunk on his 
 knees before her, burying his face in her lap. 
 
 Eosamond bent for a single second over him. 
 "Now, my brother," she whispered, "have 
 courage ; tell her — tell us both — all ! " 
 
 No reply — only a tremulous shudder of 
 the frame, while the curls shook slightly. Mrs. 
 Sheffield, had not observed it, or that her 
 daughter had spoken. She was looking up- 
 wards, and her hands were extehded above 
 her son's head, while her lips moved, apparently 
 in benediction. 
 
 The next moment, the mother and daugh- 
 ter were alone. Mrs. Sheffield was too agita- 
 ted to notice the circumstances. Eosamond 
 held her hand tightly in hers. Darnley had 
 rushed wildly from the room.
 
 Ill 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 THE MEETING. 
 
 It is time we return to Marcelline, and the 
 little hero of our tale, the infant whose si- 
 multaneous appearance with the vision of her 
 absent lover had filled her heart with such 
 wild and absorbing interest. 
 
 The child had been now two whole days in 
 the hospital of the Enfants Trouves. Its ap- 
 pearance had been greatly altered during that 
 time, and though his little countenance could 
 never be otherwise than pleasing, there was 
 decidedly nothing striking ^bout it, as seen
 
 112 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 in connexion with the garments — we had al- 
 most said the livery — dictated by the author- 
 ities of the Institution for its proteges. As 
 usual, the limbs of each babe were swathed in 
 folds of linen and flannel ; the arms hung stiffly 
 at the sides, rendering the baby privilege of 
 sucking the thumb, a difficult feat of leger- 
 dermain. A tiny coloured cap surmounted 
 each distinct little animated parcel, for such 
 the babes appeared, the edge of this unbecoming 
 coiiFure trimmed with a row of coarse web 
 texture, known by the name of nun's lace. 
 
 Mere Antoinette would willingly have taken 
 charge of the delicate linen which had enfolded 
 the infant on its arrival. It was richly em- 
 broidered, and it seemed to her that the hand 
 which had so elaborately ornamented it, would 
 only have expended so much labour on a pleas- 
 ing and self-imposed task. It might be the 
 means some day of restoring the child to the 
 poor mother, for Marcelline had acquainted her 
 kind old friend with the cry of horror and 
 pain proceeding from some member of the 
 party, which had deposited the infant in 
 the " tour." But her request was refused, for
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 113 
 
 there was but one rule for the garments worn 
 by the foundlings, and she was obliged to con- 
 tent herself with a mental inventory of the lit- 
 tle boy's wardrobe, previous to beholding it 
 sealed up in a packet, and deposited amongst 
 other similar evidences to elicit future dis- 
 covery. 
 
 But Marcelline had asked and obtained the 
 white rose, that is, when the infant slept, 
 since it resolutely refused to part with it 
 while awake, necessitating its attendant, the 
 poor girl, as she sat bending over and rocking 
 it upon her breast, to abstract it furtively, 
 so soon as the two dark eyes were closed in 
 slumber. From that moment the withered 
 flower had been treasured as of priceless value 
 by the poor superstitious French girl ; it was 
 to her excited fancy a gift from Guillaume — 
 alas ! she feared — his last ! 
 
 For the whole of two agitated nights, every 
 instant of which was filled with the image, 
 pale and dripping, of her lover, that terrible 
 image which had fascinated her gaze, so that, 
 even when she shut her eyes, it only grew the 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 1 14 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 clearer and more intense — for two nights she 
 bore the weight of her grief, without uttering 
 a word of complaint or fear. It seemed to 
 her that if she framed her horror, that if she 
 expressed it in words, the reality might 
 be brought the nearer, and she would 
 have to accuse herself of invoking the 
 very catastrophe she dreaded. There was yet 
 hope ; no tidings came — it was even possible 
 she might be mistaken — no one else knew the 
 vivid nature of her vision ; no one else would 
 believe it, even if she told them. She reso- 
 lutely shut the secret in her own breast. 
 Time enough to declare it, when its revela- 
 tions were confirmed. 
 
 But on the morning of the third day, the 
 forced courage that had hitherto sustained 
 her, gave way. She rose from her sleepless 
 bed, dressed herself with more than usual 
 care, and took her way to the Foundling Hos- 
 pital, which was situated but a few streets off. 
 The necessity for sympathy and advice was 
 strong upon her. The burden of her suspense 
 was intolerable; she would tell the faithful 
 Antoinette all !
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 115 
 
 In the whole hospital there was no such 
 favourite as the old woman in search of whom 
 she came. Antoinette had been so many 
 years attached to the Institution, had seen so 
 many new faces come and go, and proved her- 
 self so estimable in every relation of which her 
 humble sphere admitted, that she was a sort 
 of fixture, taken just as she was by all about 
 her, and permitted various little privileges 
 which might have been refused to a less 
 popular person. She now made her appear- 
 ance in answer to Marcelline's inquiry, bear- 
 ing in her arms the infant at whose arrival 
 the girl had been so greatly agitated. 
 
 ^^ Look, child," she said, coming up and 
 kissing her upon both cheeks ; ''I have had 
 four hours of delicious slumber. I rose as 
 fresh as a lark, and walked into the wards to 
 see the pretty infants. ^ Ma foi! ' how full the 
 Hospital is! Here is the 'petit homme' that 
 you liked so much the other night. Is he not 
 a beauty ? I begged him from the nurses for a 
 little minute to show you." 
 
 Marcellhie sat down and took the infant in 
 her arms. As she looked at him, a prayer 
 
 I 2
 
 116 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 rcrse to her lips — it was the first relief she had 
 known since her trouble, and it brought tears. 
 They fell slowly upon the baby face which 
 was turned upward towards her, and it 
 seemed to her that the eyes had a strange ex- 
 pression of sympathy and tenderness as they 
 met her own. 
 
 Sitting with the child upon her knees, and 
 stooping ever and anon to press a wild 
 kiss on its brow and cheek, Marcelline, calm 
 but trembling, told her story. 
 
 During the recital the old woman lis- 
 tened with marks of lively interest. She 
 shook her head when Marcelline told her no 
 news whatever had reached her of her lover's 
 return, and shuddered when she was reminded 
 that the poor girl's vision had occurred the very 
 night of the storm which so universally had 
 devastated the surrounding country. But she 
 offered no suggestion, merely contenting herself 
 with the endeavour to cheer her young com- 
 panion's spirits. There was something so real, 
 so impressive, in Marcelline's simple recital, 
 that she had neither power nor inclination to 
 disbelieve it.
 
 KAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 117 
 
 Her story concluded, there was a silence, 
 which lasted several minutes. 
 
 " This suspense is worse than the certainty 
 of evil, ■ my child," at length said the old 
 woman. 
 
 ^^ It is ! I have made up my mind to go 
 to Dieppe, and make personal inquiry there. 
 You think it is the best thing I can do ? " 
 
 ^^The only one, Marcelline." 
 
 " Very well, then ; I shall set out without 
 further delay. I am prepared. I — " 
 
 ^^ But the distance, my poor girl — only 
 think of that — and you on foot." 
 
 " I shall get a lift sometimes, and should I 
 feel fatigued could even pay for one," she 
 showed her purse as she spoke. " Oh ! 
 never fear ! I shall reach Dieppe — too soon 
 perhaps ! " 
 
 ^^But, Marcelline, you will come back. 
 How soon ? — say, for, alas ! after what 
 you have told me now, I shall scarcely 
 know peace till your return. You will 
 come back — eh ? " 
 
 The girl turned upon her a countenance of 
 desperate calmness.
 
 118 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 '^ Oh, yes ! come back — to be sure I will. 
 Come back, ah ! " she said vaguely — " there 
 will be this infant, you know. If it should 
 actually be so — if I should see him at Dieppe 
 — should find him there — I shall have nothing 
 else left in this world." Antoinette knew she 
 spoke of the Morgue. 
 
 She pressed the infant fondly to her breast, 
 and then placed it in Antoinette's arms. "■ I 
 am going ; take care of it for my sake, " she 
 murmured. 
 
 " Adieu, my child," was the answer, as the 
 old woman, unobserved, drew forth a few 
 coins, and slipped them into the pocket of 
 Marcelline's apron. ^^ Go ; it is, after all, best. 
 Would that my old limbs could accompany 
 you. Take care of the child? Ah! that I 
 will. Farewell ! " 
 
 The first part of Marcelline's journey was 
 more easily performed than she had dared to 
 expect. The very exercise seemed to assist 
 her, and infuse new life into her heart. Hope, 
 despite herself, again dawned, and at the 
 idea that every step she took shortened the 
 distance between him and herself, she
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 119 
 
 bounded forward, regardless of obstacle or 
 fatigue. 
 
 Persons frequently turned to look at her, 
 as she steadily pursued her path, her head 
 enveloped in the folds of a coloured kerchief, 
 which gave a gipsy air to her dark skin 
 and expressive eyes, her short petticoat 
 permitting every steady movement onward of 
 her trim ankle and neat foot to be seen, a 
 bundle carried over her arm. Many a mile, 
 indeed, did some good-humoured ^'conducteur" 
 of a diligence, or tradesman driving his little 
 cart to or from some distant market, bear her 
 without further fee than an earnest ^^ Merci 
 bien" from her lips ; but when they looked for a 
 smile, and tried to elicit one by genial mer- 
 riment, the poor girl turned away. They 
 could only look after her, and pity her, as 
 she abstractedly walked on. 
 
 At length, after a weary journey, just as her 
 strength was beginning to flag, and the tears 
 to force themselves between her hot and 
 straining eyelids, the buildings of a great 
 town came in sight. She readily guessed, and 
 assured herself by inquiry, that she was enter-
 
 12U RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 ing the city of Eouen. There was the Seine, 
 with its strange boat bridge , there the ruined 
 arches of that which formerly afforded a 
 transit from one bank to the other, built by 
 Matilda, daughter of England's first King 
 Henry ; there the cathedral, and its compa- 
 nion church of St. Ouen, with the statue of poor 
 Joan of Arc in the " Marche aux Chevaux." 
 
 Water had, for Marcelline, a strange at- 
 traction. Throughout her route she had 
 found herself, whenever she could, following 
 the course of the river. She experienced a 
 kind of pleasure not unmingled with fear at 
 the sight ; and now, without intending it, she 
 bent her steps towards the quay, and sat down 
 for a half hour's rest, where she could overlook 
 the stream, whose cold surface reflected the 
 rays of the sun in dots of sparkling 
 lustre. 
 
 The business of disembarkation from a little 
 vessel was going on, just as the tired traveller 
 took her place upon the river's brink. A 
 steamboat was puffing and panting while some 
 luggage was being cleared out, and presently 
 it moved quietly away, and disappeared with
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 121 
 
 a wreath of smoke, the sun glancing upon 
 the water where it had left its track. 
 
 Marcelline watched the passengers with list- 
 less indifference, but two of them attracted her 
 attention, and she soon grew interested in sur- 
 veying their movements. A man wrapped 
 in a cloak, and of whose countenance but 
 little could be observed, from the quantity of 
 hair which encircled and covered it, supported 
 on his arm a female figure, closely veiled, whose 
 steps seemed scarcely able to sustain the 
 weight. A porter followed them with some 
 heavy luggage ; and when they had reached 
 the road, about a hundred yards from where 
 Marcelline sat, the burden was, at a gesture of 
 the gentleman's, set down, and with a sharp 
 glance around, he proceeded, followed by the 
 man, in search of a carriage, in which to 
 pursue his journey. 
 
 The lady rested herself upon one of the pack- 
 ages as soon as released from his arm, and sat 
 with her face buried in her hands, and her 
 veil drooping over them. Her attitude was a 
 complete embodiment of grief, and Marcel- 
 line, who was conscious in a moment of all the
 
 122 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 freemasonry mourners never fail to recognize, 
 involuntarily rose, and approached her. 
 
 " Madame is in trouble ? " she said, in 
 soft and tender accents, totally unmindful, for 
 the moment, of herself 
 
 The answer was a sudden gesture of wild 
 assent. Marcelline beheld the head raised 
 hurriedly, and the veil thrown back revealed 
 a countenance the remembrance of which never 
 afterwards left her. It was so full of terrible 
 meaning, so marked with grief and hopeless suf- 
 fering, that Marcelline felt, for the moment, 
 ashamed of her own impatience under the 
 state of suspense she had been for the last 
 few hours enduring. But what a beautiful 
 face it was ! How regularly graceful were the 
 flowing lines of the features — how intelligent, 
 nay, how intellectual the brow — how firm, 
 even proud, notwithstanding the traces of so 
 much misery, the curve of the lips, and the 
 steady glance of the melancholy eye ! It was 
 more the face of a statue than of a breathing 
 woman, and Marcelline involuntarily sought 
 to assure herself of a vitality she could scarcely 
 realize, by repeating her question.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 123 
 
 The young lady, she could have been scarcely 
 eighteen, looked at her iSxedly as she spoke, 
 so fixedly that Marcelline's eyes fell beneath 
 hers ; when she raised them again, she had 
 apparently recollected herself, and become 
 aware of the meaning of the words, for she 
 shook her head sadly in reply. 
 
 " Ah ! if a poor girl could be of service," 
 said Marcelline, earnestly. '' I — I am going 
 to Dieppe ; but I would gladly stay] a little 
 half hour if I could help the poor demoiselle, 
 who looks so ill ! " 
 
 The person addressed half rose, and sud- 
 denly put her hand to her bosom. She ap- 
 peared searching for something, but so frantic 
 was her movement, that it would have been 
 wonderful had she succeeded. She had 
 moved a step forward, when, suddenly remem- 
 bering her companion, she glanced round to 
 observe where he was. Unfortunately he 
 was coming towards them, and the whole ex- 
 pression of the face changed into terror as she 
 perceived his approach. 
 
 '^ It is useless, " she murmured. ^^ Go ! I 
 am lost if you are seen with me ! "
 
 124 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 Marcelline quickly obeyed, and resumed, 
 unobserved, her former position. She took 
 up her bundle, and feeling she could be of no 
 service, quietly pursued her journey, thinking 
 of the pale face of the sufferer. They were 
 packing the carriage, and not heeding her : 
 she would go on; she had rested long 
 enough. 
 
 Bested, alas! her feet were blistered, and 
 her limbs ached with fatigue. Tears began to 
 course slowly down her cheeks, her heart was 
 tightened, and she felt as if every step must 
 be her last. As she slowly toiled along, up 
 some rising ground, she trembled to think that 
 she might never be able to reach her destina- 
 tion, that she might be taken ill and die be- 
 side the road, unconscious of Guillaume's fate. 
 Just at this moment a carriage overtook her, 
 and she immediately recognised within it the 
 somewhat disagreeable features she had 
 guessed at from the distance, before. Beside 
 the man sat the poor pale girl, and as she 
 passed she gave Marcelline a rapid glance of 
 intelligence, accompanied by a movement of 
 the head.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 125 
 
 Marcelline was quick enough, and easily un- 
 derstood it. She took advantage of her op- 
 portunity, and as the carriage was proceeding 
 slowly, climbed on at the back, into a position 
 of comparative ease. The young lady's face, 
 once put from the window, re-assured her, and 
 she abandoned herself to repose. 
 
 It was now, notwithstanding these singu- 
 lar circumstances, that Marcelline, strange 
 to say, experienced the first quietude that 
 had visited her since the terrible night 
 of the storm. Drawing a portion of the 
 leather covering of the baggage over her, 
 yet scarcely hoping to escape observation, 
 she found herself closing her eyes, which 
 smarted and throbbed with pain, and the 
 action was so new, and afibrded such relief, 
 that she gladly encouraged it, so that in a 
 few moments she was asleep. . 
 
 Marcelline was awaked by the sudden stop- 
 page of the carriage. She looked from her 
 place of concealment, and observed that they 
 were changing horses. The gentleman had 
 alighted, and was gone into the " estaminet," 
 where he stood sipping a glass of cognac and
 
 126 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 watching his female companion as she sat in 
 the vehicle and was provided by the waiter 
 of the house with a glass of water, which she 
 eagerly drained. 
 
 It was at the moment when the man went 
 back to the house, and the traveller turned to 
 pay for his cordial, that Marcelline heard a 
 quick tap against the back of the carriage. 
 She listened intently, and removing the 
 leather, gained a sight of the little glass 
 window in the middle of the back panel. 
 The next moment the glass was broken, 
 though with but little noise, and Marcelline 
 beheld a letter, which she hastily extended 
 her hand to receive, pushed through the 
 aperture. 
 
 ^^Take it — take it," said the voice of the 
 girl within. " Quick ! quick ! or he will return. 
 Put it into the nearest post — on your life do 
 not fail me, and the blessing of a broken 
 heart be upon you !" 
 
 MarcelUne glanced at the address. It was 
 directed to ^' Mr. Darnley Sheffield, Dover." 
 ^^ I will," she said, fervently ; " the first post. 
 Mademoiselle may trust me ; it shall be safe
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 127 
 
 where she wishes, before I break bread 
 
 '^Angels reward you!" was the response. 
 Stop one moment — take this — I have nothmer 
 
 a 
 
 more to give. 
 
 A small gold cross, elegant, but of trifling 
 value, was put through the window, just as the 
 gentleman, returning to the carriage, urged the 
 postilion, with an oath, to drive on fast, or 
 they should not reach Dieppe before nightfall. 
 Marcelline hurriedly put the letter into her 
 bosom, and there being no way of restoring 
 the cross, she placed it for the present there 
 also. 
 
 Swiftly did the fresh horses bear them on- 
 ward, and the remainder of the journey was 
 accomplished in a wonderfully short period. 
 When Marcelline perceived she was nearing 
 her destination, she quietly dropped off, to 
 avoid the notice likely to ensue in a crowded 
 street. As she did so, she looked anxiously 
 towards the carriage, and was gratified to 
 observe the countenance of the girl appear for 
 a brief moment at the window, while her eyes 
 were raised with a gesture of gratitude and
 
 128 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 encouragement. The sun and wind had dried 
 up the roads — the carriage was enveloped in a 
 cloud of dust, and its mysterious and ill- 
 assorted occupants were speedily borne out of 
 sight.
 
 129 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE MORGUE. 
 
 The veil of the starry goddess was fast draw- 
 ing around the earth, when Marcelline, with 
 slow and painful steps, emerged from the cliffs 
 which hang above Dieppe — as if to protect it 
 with giant embrace from the surging waves 
 beneath — and beheld the town stretching 
 around her, already dotted here and there with 
 sparks of cheerful light. Marcelline stopped 
 with a beating heart at one of the little cafes, 
 and asking for some wine, sat down to collect 
 her energies for the task she had travelled so 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 far to perform. Scarcely, however, had she 
 given the order, when her promise to the 
 unhappy Estelle, for Estelle, the reader has 
 doubtless long since discovered, had been 
 Marcelline's travelling companion for the 
 last several miles, came into her mind, and 
 she hurriedly arose, and asking the way to the 
 post-office, again sallied forth. Fortunately 
 she had no great distance to go, but in a few 
 moments had the satisfaction of seeing the let- 
 ter to Mr. Darnley Sheffield safely deposited 
 in that national magazine of joys and sorrows, 
 and with a feeling nearly approaching plea- 
 sure, she returned, and again resigned her- 
 self to momentary repose. 
 
 As Marcelline dipped the roll they had 
 brought, into her wine, and swallowed it slowly, 
 the nourishment, so far from calming or sus- 
 taining her, only rendered her each succeeding 
 minute more feverishly anxious to penetrate 
 the terrible secret, which was to her mind al- 
 ready as a reality. She had scarcely patience 
 to conclude her simple meal, in the vicinity 
 of several other persons, grouped at little 
 tables set just within the shelter of the
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 131 
 
 house ; there was a sharp wind blowing. The 
 sound of these people's mirth gave additional 
 poignancy to her own sorrow ; it jarred pain- 
 fully upon her overstrained heart, and it was 
 a relief to find herself again in the streets, 
 though here still, evidences of gaiety and hap- 
 piness, fearfully discordant with her mood, met 
 her on every side. 
 
 Marcelline had a single destination; she 
 knew no one in Dieppe ; she had no prospect 
 of assistance or consolation in her sad pursuit, 
 now the sole purpose of her life ; but yet, so 
 shrink we from the realization of our own fears 
 by even the mention of a name, that she tried 
 several times to ask direction to the place she 
 sought, and failed. The ^^ Morgue ! '' — horri- 
 ble, fearful word ! her tongue refused to utter 
 it, but at length she gained courage to inquire 
 the way to the quay ; she knew — some one had 
 told her months before, and now it flashed 
 back upon her recollection — the dreaded 
 asylum for the dead was situated there. 
 
 The sound of the waves, sullenly dash- 
 ing over the shingle which skirts the harbour, 
 had something in it which reminded her forci- 
 
 K 2
 
 132 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 bly of her never long-forgotten vision ; a few 
 lights were seen tossing to and fro upon the 
 ocean far away, and the Pharos of the Cliff 
 was already illuminated, suggesting the same 
 sad augury of danger and death to her 
 mind. Marcelline stopped to whisper an 
 earnest prayer for help at the foot of a crucifix, 
 where two more women, one old, the other 
 about her own age, knelt, their faces buried in 
 their hands, probably imploring safety for a 
 husband or a father now exposed to the perils 
 of the treacherous element. Oh ! that Marcel- 
 line could have believed Guillaume was there 
 too ; the thought that was so terrible to them, 
 would have been comparative happiness to 
 her. 
 
 And now the fearful moment approaches — 
 it can no longer be delayed. Immediately 
 before her stands an ominous building, the dull 
 glare of a torch or two, illuminating its melan- 
 choly details. She has no occasion to ask 
 direction here ; ejaculating a last passionate 
 appeal, with hands close pressed upon her 
 heart, she enters.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 133 
 
 An incredibly short time intervened before 
 Marcelline, pale and awe-stricken, but with a 
 strange expression of hope, even happiness, 
 npon her pallid features, emerged from the 
 fatal receptacle. One hurried glance had suf- 
 ficed to show her all ; she had noted each fear- 
 ful inmate, nor were they few ; she had glanced 
 anxiously upon every still face, and observed 
 the varied expression of pain, of terror, of re- 
 pose, characterizing them. But she was con- 
 scious only of one blissful certainty — the eye 
 of love could not be deceived — Guillaume 
 Mars was not there ! 
 
 Unmindful of the proximity of the dead, 
 careless of every consideration, every idea but 
 that of ineffable gratitude, Marcelline sank 
 down upon the threshold of the Morgue, and 
 with a gushing flow of emotion, lifted her hands 
 towards the starry heaven above her. Wild 
 words burst from her lips ; sobs and sighs 
 struggled with strange incoherent exclamations 
 for the mastery, but as she thus alternately 
 wept and rejoiced, a figure emerged from the 
 building — a figure which Marcelline had not 
 before observed, praying upon the floor in a
 
 134 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE 
 
 distant corner — and when the violence of her 
 emotion had somewhat subsided, laid a light 
 touch upon her shoulder. Marcelline bent her 
 head in reverence, as, looking up, she saw it 
 was an ecclesiastic who thus engaged her atten- 
 tion. 
 
 " My child, whom seekest thou ? " said a 
 mild voice, tremulous with age and trouble. 
 
 " Father ! I sought my betrothed ! I sought 
 the chosen of my heart. In a fearful dream 
 there came to me, it seemed that peril and 
 death encircled him. I thought him dead — I 
 feared to find him yonder. It is enough — the 
 holy Virgin be praised ! I have entered — I 
 have examined ! — he is not there ! ^' 
 
 A pause of a minute ensued, Marcelline 
 had recovered self-possession. She would have 
 left him, with a low reverence, but the priest 
 detained her. 
 
 ^^ What is it, my father? " she at length ar- 
 ticulated, as he scrutinized attentively her 
 countenance, and looked with doubtful and 
 pitying expression from her countenance to her 
 dress, all the while holding her softly by one 
 hand.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 135 
 
 " You are from Paris, my daughter ? '^ 
 
 ** I am, and have travelled all this distance 
 to gain tidings of him. Father, let me go, I 
 am almost happy now, he is not there ! I am 
 weary and footsore, and I need repose. To- 
 morrow may bring me news of Guillaume — I 
 may see him." 
 
 "And your name? " 
 
 " Marcelline." 
 
 "What else?" 
 
 "Marcelline Dubois." 
 
 " Alas ! it is so then," the priest murmured 
 sadly ; " so young — so affectionate — how shall 
 I tell her ? " He wiped away a tear as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " Why do you look at me thus ? " said Mar- 
 celline, fearfully ; "let me depart ; I shall have 
 much to do to-morrow. I shall have to seek 
 Guillaume everywhere ; he may have arrived ; 
 let me go ! " 
 
 " Unfortunate child ! " 
 
 " Oh ! alas ! is it possible," she rejoined, 
 frantically, "that you know aught of him? 
 Tell me, is he returned ? Ah ! you do know 
 something — it is not evil, is it ? He is not in
 
 136 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 the Morgue. No ! no ! you dare not say it — 
 he is not drowned ! " 
 
 For all answer the priest took her hand, and 
 drew her forth from the fearful abode of the 
 dead. She obeyed him mechanically, and fol- 
 lowed for a few steps ; but then she hesitated 
 and stopped. 
 
 " Where do you lead me ; what have you to 
 tell ? Alas ! I read it in your looks ; my 
 dreams have not deceived me ; that vision was 
 no delusion ! " 
 
 "Poor girl! I would gladly console, most 
 thankfully relieve you from this fear, but, 
 alas!—" 
 
 " Now stop ; pause here a moment." She 
 drew breath slowly and heavily. " Father ! 
 listen to me. I am strong and prepared for 
 all; better now than to delay it. Say what 
 you know! tell me, is he deadV^ — She was 
 clinging to him frantically. 
 
 The priest drew his hand across his eyes. 
 
 "Will you see him?" he said at length 
 sadly, and endeavouring to sustain the totter- 
 ing form of the poor girl. " Alas ! I can show 
 him to you ; but never more, Marcelline, will
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 137 
 
 he be conscious of your approach — never more 
 will your innocent caresses draw from him 
 reply or smile ! Yes, he is dead ! " 
 
 There was another pause ; it lasted long, 
 for the tides of a whole life were rolled back 
 in those several minutes. The priest essayed 
 not to disturb it ; it was broken by the voice 
 of Marcelline ; how strange, how unnatural it 
 sounded ! 
 
 " Let us go V 
 
 Traversing for a short distance the quay, 
 the unhappy girl and her companion gained a 
 solitary house, flanked by a sort of miniature 
 chapel, still further towards the sea-shore, and 
 passing through a low-arched doorway, they 
 found themselves in an ante-chamber, or sacristy, 
 belonging to the chapel, lighted by a dull lamp, 
 which permitted but little that it contained to 
 be visible. Yet, in the dim light, unaided by 
 further sense than the one that declared to 
 her unerring instinct of affection, the proximity 
 to the adored object, how was it that Marcel- 
 line guided her steps direct to a motionless 
 mass which stood in the centre of the floor, 
 and without word or sob, or even sigh, had
 
 138 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 sunk down beside the bier, and was clasping 
 a hand — the hand of the dead, — when the 
 priest, who had busied himself in lighting a 
 taper, and was now bringing it to her as- 
 sistance, advanced to the place she occupied ? 
 There indeed lay Guillaume Mars, the same, 
 j ust the same as he had looked in life. Tall, ath- 
 letic, manly, a shade paler only than custo- 
 mary, you might have thought the strong man 
 lived, but slept ! No vestige of distress, no evi- 
 dence of struggle or pain disturbed the quiet 
 features. The hair was smoothed away from 
 the temples in wavy masses, glossy, but no 
 longer wet with the breakers of the terrific 
 enemy which had fought with and conquered 
 him; the hands were folded together, and the 
 care of some kind heart had laid — strange 
 coincidence — a spray of fragrant white roses 
 within those yet more snowy fingers. The 
 priest gazed at him, as he had gazed more 
 than once before, that day, with eyes full of 
 admiring pity ; and the latter feeling deepened 
 as his look fell from the still corpse to the 
 equally silent figure of the young woman 
 crouching in her voiceless sorrow beside it.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 139 
 
 ^' There is something for you," said the 
 priest, after permitting her grief to have free 
 vent for several minutes ; his object was a 
 kind one, to rouse her from her stupor, and 
 open the way of consolation. 
 
 She looked up as the words met her ear, 
 and a sudden flush crossed her countenance. 
 She extended her hands towards him ; it was 
 evidently a letter that she expected. 
 
 " No, no ! my child — not that. They 
 found him on the beach, washed there by the 
 tide, and many others were there too, for the 
 vessel was a large one, and that fearful storm 
 precluded all hope of escape. It was five 
 o^clock the morning of the 18th when the ship 
 went down." 
 
 She bowed her head. 
 
 '' Ah ! you knew that ? When the poor 
 corpse was placed in the Morgue, for there it 
 has been until to-night, it was found that 
 there were means upon it to defray the 
 usual expenses of burial, and, as customary in 
 such cases, he was brought here, without fur- 
 ther delay than necessary interval for recogni- 
 tion. But the money has not been touched.
 
 140 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 See, my child, it is directed to your name — it 
 is for you/' 
 
 The priest approached, as he spoke, the 
 lifeless remains of the young sailor. He drew, 
 with reverent hand, aside the shroud from the 
 throat of the unfortunate Guillaume, and dis- 
 covered, attached to it by a string, a little can- 
 vas bag, upon which was written, in yet 
 plainly decipherable characters, the name of 
 '' Marcelline Dubois, a Paris." 
 
 ^^You were his last thought, you see. 
 When nothing but death was to be found on 
 all sides, the faithful heart of your lover, my 
 child, rich in the faith of the pure-hearted, 
 consigned to Providence the task of transmit- 
 ting to your hands, the sacred legacy of his 
 love. This sum, though small, will, carefully 
 managed, place you above the reach of want 
 for the rest of your life ; treat it as the gift 
 of a blest spirit sent to preserve your young 
 footsteps from the path of guilt or dishonour ; 
 to render you the benefactress of the orphan 
 and the fatherless ! '' 
 
 To say that Marcelline had not heard the 
 whole of these words would be untrue ; but
 
 KAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 141 
 
 equally certain is it, that at the time their 
 meaning passed, in a vague, confused dream, 
 before her. Strange to say, the only portion 
 she fully realized was the last ; and even in 
 that trying moment her thoughts reverted to 
 the little infant, still more, she thought, the 
 legacy of Guillaume than the money itself; 
 which, indeed, she only valued as the evidence 
 of his love, and the means of promoting the 
 future welfare of the foundling. 
 
 From the moment of her entrance into the 
 sacristy, not a single sound had escaped the 
 lips of the wretched girl. The kind priest 
 would rather that she had sobbed frantically, 
 had clung to the body, and moistened with tears 
 the insensible form ; but, motionless as a 
 statue, no energy of any kind had re- 
 warded his endeavours to rouse her from her 
 stupor, even by the recurrence to those details 
 which generally suffice so readily to open the 
 Hood-gates of human sorrow. Suspense had 
 done the same work mentally, that fatigue 
 had achieved physically. The body was 
 weakened almost to the exclusion of suscepti- 
 bility of pain ; the mind, worn out by emotion.
 
 142 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 refused to sustain further burden, but sought 
 relief in temporary oblivion. Going up to 
 and touching Marcelline, the good priest found 
 that she had passed into that shadowy border- 
 land of death, in which the wearied soul re- 
 poses from sorrow, while merciful spirits shut 
 out from the throbbing senses the impact of 
 external anguish, by a veil which mortals call 
 apathy, but which is the balm of hope and 
 strength, necessary to enable the child of 
 human pilgrimage to endure for some time 
 longer his earthly travail !
 
 143 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ON LOYE. 
 
 Your pardon, gentle reader ! Let us turn 
 aside for a few moments from the current of 
 our tale, let us leave Marcelline, tended by- 
 more than mortal care, fanned by angels' 
 pinions, to recover consciousness in the good 
 priest's humble dwelling ; we will abandon 
 the scarcely less miserable Estelle, languish- 
 ing under all the horrors that remorseless 
 cunning could inflict ; — let us digress an 
 instant, and let our subject be — Love. 
 
 Love ! the theme of poets, who rhapsodise
 
 144 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 away the power of loving ; of philosophers, 
 who break the fragile flower upon the wheel 
 of scientific analysis, and tear off its tender 
 petals harshly, to investigate their conforma- 
 tion ; the theme which all discuss, but few 
 feel; the coin which has more counterfeits 
 than true metal; the trade whose professors 
 have so seldom served apprenticeship to it; 
 the spring, whose single taste frequently be- 
 comes a surfeit; the common topic of all classes, 
 governing or governed. To what shall we 
 compare it ? Who has known all its ramifi- 
 cations? Who does not ridicule it at six- 
 teen, yet may become its slave at sixty ; or in 
 the last age's seared winter, look back to this 
 one green leaf, the tree of life bore at the 
 first? Proteus-like, it has now the ferocity 
 of the lion, now the tenderness of the dove; 
 now it soars an eagle over the world of 
 mental powers and faculties prostrate before 
 it; anon in lowly form, in unpretending 
 fidelity, its persevering labour sets a monarch 
 free, or breaks the fetters which have bound the 
 proudest genius ! Yes ! the world has grown 
 old in writing upon it, but must grow older
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 145 
 
 yet, ere it exhaust the variety of its disguises, 
 fathom the depth of its intensity, or compre- 
 hend the wonders alike of its mutation, its 
 individuality, its virtue, or its error ! 
 
 It is a mistake, however, to conceive, as 
 many do, that all natures are capable of 
 loving, and that adapting himself to the 
 peculiar temperament of each heart, the rosy 
 god will inhabit all with equal readiness. The 
 corner destined for the abode of Love is 
 indeed to be found in most hearts, as inva- 
 riably as the cell of the queen may be dis- 
 covered by the initiated in a bee-hive ; and in 
 an occasional instance, this recess, once vacated, 
 refuses to admit for some time a second occupant 
 — rarer still, closes altogether, as though it had 
 never been. The ancients, indeed, depicted 
 the principle as a beautiful winged cherub, to 
 denote at once its loveliness and evanescence ; 
 but the God is of Titanic growth, and requires 
 a large heart and lofty mind in which to 
 recreate himself with the full freedom of un- 
 fettered potency. Love does not affect those 
 paths of worn and rugged natures on which 
 transient shadows come and go ; such stony 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 roads would cut the cherub's feet and mar his 
 beauty ! Neither can he breathe in the close 
 atmosphere of dusty business or corroding 
 gold, which choke his utterance, and make him 
 pine and fade in scenes replete with selfishness, 
 falsehood, and adulation. Nor is he to be 
 found in the mad laugh of the revel, beneath 
 the upas of intoxication, where the lees of the 
 wine clog his pinions, and his healthy bloom is 
 simulated in the painted mockery of passion's 
 glare and the hectic glow of vice ! No ! Love 
 exults in the lofty halls of bright and pure 
 intelligence, where, walking with Thought, he 
 traces and exhibits, too, self-devotion, disin- 
 terestedness, undying fidelity. A puny, nar- 
 ' row-lodging soul he abhors, and though he 
 often irradiates, whatever the derisive proverb 
 may say, poverty with his presence, he flies 
 from halls of cedar and vermilion if he but 
 list the whisper of selfish hypocrisy, or hear 
 the footfall of a rival passion eager to oc- 
 cupy his throne ! 
 
 Yet, without impugning their sincerity who 
 think that love is capable of transfer from one 
 object to another, certain it is that only those
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 147 
 
 natures truly ascertain the influence, who feel 
 it but once and for ever ! It is true that the 
 human soul is so constituted as to be incapable 
 of existing independent of affection ; let 
 the stoic or philosophising upstart sneer as 
 he may. We maintain that independence is 
 like a ghost, often talked of and never seen. 
 Nay, more; those proud Csesars, whose boast of 
 arrogant self-support '^ has awed the nether 
 world," how often have they changed their 
 note in illness or in sorrow, and, longing for 
 sympathy, have cried, '' ' Give me some drink, 
 Titinius,' like a sick girl !" But if the master- 
 image be thrown down, the heart's worship 
 is never transferred to another shrine, but 
 while life continues, the great gap in its affec- 
 tions is unfilled, though an attempt be made, 
 happy if successful, to ^^find some sweet 
 oblivious antidote," in self-denying interest 
 about another's welfare, ^^ to make the mind 
 forgetful." Like a bird, vainly endeavouring 
 to rest upon a shaken spray, love at last takes 
 flight; object after object secondary to, and 
 vainly endeavouring to supply collectively, the 
 individual ruin of the first great loss, are all 
 
 l2
 
 148 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 successively swept away ; and the mourner, 
 fatigued with the long routine of unrepining 
 duty, and taught by the chastening discipline 
 of disappointment, the fallacy of earthly hope, 
 seeks at length, by wider flight, a home imper- 
 ishable and secure ! 
 
 The heart of Marcelline had been like wax ; 
 it had yielded to one impression, and now the 
 die was broken. She knew 
 
 " The cordial drop, Heav'n in our cup has thrown," 
 
 was lost for ever ; the rose which had budded 
 and bloomed beneath the soft breath of reci- 
 procated tenderness, lay snapped upon the 
 stem of her youth ! It could never blossom 
 more; though even then the seeds of future 
 ties, the leaves of yearning and fostering 
 attachment to the infant foundling, were 
 twining about the root of the prostrate tree, 
 ready to embower herself and him in the 
 foliage of sympathy and trust; to shield the 
 growth of virtue in the one, and conceal 
 the worm which, unseen, fed upon the joy 
 and promise of the other. 
 
 In the case of Estelle, which we shall here-
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 149 
 
 after have occasion to delineate, the same 
 blighted love acted in a wholly different manner 
 for 
 
 " Love various minds does variously inspire." 
 
 Both were equally faithful, equally devoted ; 
 but, had exactly the like misfortune to Estelle's 
 befallen Marcelline, she would have drooped 
 and died under it. The idea that her lover 
 was gone — that he looked down upon her en- 
 deavours to work out her destiny without 
 complaint, but with the whole strength of her 
 energy — that his gaze hallowed every action of 
 her daily existence — gave her strength to live, 
 and, for his sake, dedicate herself to the care 
 of that legacy she wildly deemed he had be- 
 queathed to her care. With Estelle — but no ! 
 we will not anticipate, suffice it that some- 
 thing there was strangely sympathetic in the 
 lives of these two women. 
 
 At the moment when Marcelline recovered 
 consciousness, in the dim apartment where the 
 priest's compassion had placed her, under the 
 care of an aged domestic, her sister in 
 sorrow was hastily approaching the shore,
 
 150 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 under the specious promises of Malvoisin, 
 to proceed in an open boat to a large and 
 stately vessel, moored just in the mouth of 
 the harbour, and destined for America.
 
 151 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 EXPEDIENCY — THE FIRST EKROR. 
 
 " This is the day for your party to the Glen 
 Waterfall/' said Mrs. Sheffield, as she leaned 
 over her daughter's shoulder, who was making 
 tea at the head of the long breakfast-table. 
 
 ^* Yes, mamma. The Granvilles, with their 
 friends from Scotland, are to join us here at 
 twelve ; and the rest of our party meet us 
 in the village." 
 
 " Let me congratulate you upon your looks, 
 Eosamond ; never did fairer Amazon lead her
 
 152 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 court to sylvan merry-making, than yon will 
 prove to-day. It is possible, she went on 
 carelessly, that another gallant knight may 
 be added to the train. If the post brings no 
 letter, I shall expect him. Even should he 
 arrive after you have started, I shall send him 
 to find you." 
 
 "LordAltonby?'^ 
 
 ^' Exactly. You don't seem especially to 
 value the announcement. Is not the gentle- 
 man in question unexceptionable, oh, most fas- 
 tidious ? — young, handsome, the heir to an earl- 
 dom, and the /favoured guest' in half the best 
 boudoirs in England ? Or has he been so unfor- 
 tunate as to attract displeasure by the admir- 
 ing glances he raised to two bright eyes most 
 coquettishly turned away from him, upon a 
 certain eventful night at the race ball ?" 
 
 If Kosaraond Sheffield's lip had ever been 
 suspected of a pout, it would have been as the 
 former part of the sentence reached her ear ; 
 at the last words she looked, however, posi- 
 tively distressed, and her mother hastened to 
 turn the subject. 
 
 " What horse is Lady Fanny to ride ?"
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 153 
 
 " There is only mine. The grey is quite 
 lame still. She must have Gipsy, and I will 
 take the colt ; he is perfectly safe." 
 
 " Nonsense ; there is no occasion for that. 
 You know you prefer your own horse to any 
 other; indeed, the ride would lose its charm 
 altogether, I suspect, without Gipsy. Stay, I 
 will write a line to Lady Di, and ask her to 
 send us one of theirs. Lady Fanny seems a 
 tolerable horsewoman, does she not ? " 
 
 '' She has unbounded courage, but no great 
 experience. I think it is only lately that she 
 has attempted riding at all." 
 
 Mrs. Sheffield looked at her watch, and 
 then compared it with the French clock on the 
 mantel-piece. 
 
 '^ So, Mr. Cameron goes to-day," she said 
 abruptly. 
 
 Not all Eosamond's self-command could pre- 
 vent the tell-tale blood mounting to her cheek. 
 She did not reply, but rose, and drew a little 
 writing-table forward, placing pen and paper 
 within her mother's reach. 
 
 Mrs. Sheffield's keen glance was upon her. 
 She took the pen from the stand however, and
 
 154 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 commenced writing. It was not until she 
 had completed a hasty note, and despatched it, 
 that she said musingly : — 
 
 " Poor Cameron ! I hope he will marry 
 shortly ; now his mother is gone, there is no 
 one to look after him, to sew the buttons on his 
 shirts, and play amanuensis over a cup of weak 
 tea, while he dictates his Sunday sermon. And 
 yet, what a lot for an unhappy girl, especially 
 if she have an idea above the purification of 
 the dirty faces in the infant school, or the com- 
 position of a plum-pudding." 
 
 Shocked at her mother's unusual levity, 
 Eosamond had sauntered to the window, and 
 stood there, looking out to avoid reply. Pre- 
 sently she threw up the sash. 
 
 " What ! Lady Fanny, out so early. How 
 courageous you are after such a frost. In 
 your pursuit of health, you shame even a 
 country girl like me." 
 
 " Fie, you wicked puss ; while you are pri- 
 vately giving me credit, the whole time, for 
 walking to get a colour. Well ! I think I can 
 scarcely have lost my labour, if that were my 
 motive. What with all these wraps, and the
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 155 
 
 sun, which is akeady powerful, my cheeks are 
 like a dairymaid's, aren't they ? " 
 
 Kosamond smiled, and lifted her hand. 
 
 " Oh ! nonsense ; I won't have any disclaim- 
 ing. Come out and make yours as rosy, 
 that's all. Stop, I forgot; oh! a thousand 
 pardons, Mrs. Sheffield is there, and it's break- 
 fast time." 
 
 " Run round to her, Eosamond," said Mrs. 
 Sheffield, "and bring me a few of the 
 double violets from the conservatory when 
 you return." 
 
 As the young lady obeyed, and, shutting the 
 window, turned to leave the room, she saw her 
 father had entered, and was standing gazing 
 abstractedly into the fire. He did not notice 
 her as she passed. 
 
 Mrs. Sheffield rose as the door closed. She 
 approached, and put her arm through that of 
 her husband, looking up into his slightly 
 anxious face the while. 
 
 "There is something wrong!" she said 
 softly ; " tell me your thoughts." 
 
 Mr. Sheffield did not answer. He lifted, 
 however, his wife's hand, and held it
 
 156 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 caressingly between his own broad 
 palms. 
 
 "What is the matter with Darnley?" he 
 said at length. 
 
 " Matter ! — what should be ? You have 
 been walking with him in the grounds this 
 hour past, have you not?" 
 
 "And he is as nervous, as fluttered as a 
 schoolboy playing truant. Not a particle of 
 interest can I get out of him for any of the 
 improvements. He seems everlastingly occu- 
 pied with some contemplation ; answers in 
 monosyllables, or wide a-field of the question ; 
 sometimes forgets to speak altogether, and 
 when I repeat — " 
 
 "You don^t think he is ill?" anxiously in- 
 quired Mrs. Sheffield. 
 
 " ISTo, love, no ! I think he has something 
 on his mind though ; something he wants to 
 confide to me, and dare not. What have I 
 done to deserve this from my son ? I am pro- 
 voked, wife ; he is not what I expected." 
 
 " Oh ! it is nothing," was the reply, in that 
 soothing tone which never failed to calm her 
 hearer. "Believe me, all is right; he has
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 157 
 
 been absent, you know, many months, and 
 naturally feels somewhat strange at being 
 amongst us." 
 
 ^^Tou don't notice any particular alteration 
 in him, then ?" 
 
 '* I have had so little opportunity of judg- 
 ing," said Mrs. Sheffield, equivocally. You 
 know he was out shooting the whole of yester- 
 day — did not even return to dinner." 
 
 " Well, that again was strange. The day 
 following his arrival, after all the delays and 
 disappointments. I hope to goodness he has 
 not been playing; I find, from my banker's 
 book, that the remittances have been somewhat 
 freely called for lately. Or do you think he 
 has formed any attachment ? If he have, and 
 it is only a worthy one — " 
 
 Mr. Sheffield stopped abruptly; his wife 
 had fixed upon him a glance which arrested the 
 word upon his lips, the thought in his heart. 
 She shuddered slightly, but it was gone in a 
 moment, and the next she tried to smile. 
 
 " I will contrive to penetrate the mystery," 
 she said. "We shall have plenty of opportu- 
 nity during the course of to-day, and I will
 
 158 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 interrogate him fully. The dear fellow has 
 been hitherto all confidence ; a child could not 
 have been more frank, more open. He will 
 tell me all." 
 
 '^Well it's getting late. Where are our 
 guests ? I shall scarcely reach Manchester in 
 time for my appointment. Since I parted with 
 Darnley, who went in to adonise, I believe, 
 Cameron has been hindering me with acknow- 
 ledgments and regrets. Poor fellow ! what a 
 fine nature his is ! " 
 
 " You are right ; and we ought to do some- 
 thing for him. Could you not get him a small 
 living through the influence of the Dean, down 
 in Devonshire? He is really deserving of patron- 
 age. I would ask my uncle, but that I fear 
 our numerous claims are scarcely satisfied 
 at present. Fifty pounds a-year even, were 
 better than nothing ; a colonial chaplaincy — " 
 
 "It is unnecessary. You are wonderfully 
 liberal, my dear. Would it not be a sin to 
 throw away such a man as Cameron, talents 
 like his, upon a sphere such as you name ? 
 However, fortunately there are better things in 
 store for him than the prospect of hardly keep-
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 159 
 
 ing body and soul together, upon a stipend 
 such as we give our butler, with infinitely 
 lighter work. Cameron tells me he has the 
 promise of a curacy from a relation, who is 
 from his age incapable of longer conducting 
 the services of his church. He will resis^n in 
 his favour the entire management of the 
 parish, and with that the greater part of the 
 income — no very large one— derived from it ?" 
 
 " So I suppose he goes there now to make 
 arrangements." 
 
 " Yes ; it is the very place he wishes for. 
 Somewhere in Somersetshire, I believe ; quiet 
 and rustic, not too populous, where he can be 
 actually the friend, as well as the pastor, of 
 all. Yes ; he starts to night ; but as I hear 
 this pleasure-party is coming oif, I think it is 
 as well he should stay — '' 
 
 " Oh ! don't ask him," interrupted Mrs. 
 Sheffield; but she blushed the next moment 
 at her own ' empressement,' as she met her 
 husband's inquiring glance of surprise, and 
 recovered herself sufficiently to add carelessly, 
 *^ All I mean is, I expect perhaps to use his 
 room, and any others that may be available
 
 160 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 for the Granvilles to-night, and then there is 
 Lord Altonby, who is almost certain to 
 arrive." 
 
 As Mrs. Sheffield spoke, Lady Bolsover 
 entered the room, brmging apologies from the 
 Earl, who had letters to write, and breakfasted 
 in his own room. She was speedily followed 
 by the rest of the party, which had re- 
 ceived two or three additions the previous 
 day, and soon a lively and sociable group 
 encircled the table, upon which was spread 
 every light delicacy that an inventive genius 
 could supply, while the elegantly-carved side- 
 board bore' the weight of the solid part of 
 the entertainment, one done ample justice 
 to by the sportsmen, and even their more 
 domestic brethren. 
 
 '' You give us quite a Scotch breakfast," 
 said Mr. Wyatt, the gentleman who sat next 
 Mrs. Sheffield. '^A Scotch breakfast, you 
 know, a Eussian dinner, and a French 
 supper. I think Wentworth Manor seems to 
 combine the three." 
 
 A pretty sight, and a goodly, indeed, was 
 the long breakfast-table. The morning is the
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 161 
 
 social meal after all. Every one is refreshed 
 and inclined to be pleased. Slights are for- 
 gotten ; tears caused to flow only perhaps 
 the previous evening, laughed at or blush- 
 ingly confessed ; the sun comes peeping in 
 through the windows, cheerily and pertina- 
 ciously, and with it the radiance of good 
 humour, falling upon the most common-place 
 adjuncts, turns them into prismatic gems of 
 friendship, golden amulets of aflection. 
 
 But at this moment the grand event of the 
 breakfast-hour is to come off. Even while 
 Mr. Wyatt is felicitating himself upon the 
 hospitalities of Wentworth Manor, Mrs. Shef- 
 field wonders what can keep Darniey so long, 
 her husband secretly chafes at his absence, 
 and Eosamond, with Cameron seated beside 
 her, forgets her mother's slightinpj mention of 
 him, and listens, abandoned to bright hopeful 
 imaginings, to the melodious accents of his 
 voice ; even now, Elliot, the butler, takes from 
 the hot grasp of panting Tom, the stable-boy 
 who has ridden some four miles and back to 
 fetch it, the leather pouch, sacred even from 
 the worthy functionary's lynx-eyed curiosity, 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 and turning it over with a degree of reverence 
 beautiful to behold, bears it in state to 
 the dining-room. 
 
 Elliot well knows the sensation he is about 
 to create. He is proud of his office, and 
 would not permit George, the footman, or 
 AYilkins, '' mistress's maid,'^ to carry in that 
 mystical repository for the wealth of an 
 annual income. Elliot know she gets, by way 
 of reward, smiles from the elder ladies 
 desiring scandal — nods of approval from the 
 elderly gentlemen looking out for their news- 
 papers — an occasional blushing welcome 
 in telegraphic cipher, from a fair maiden 
 anticipating a love-letter — or a still more 
 substantial token of acknowledgment from 
 the ^' Captain," whose heart swells with 
 liberality towards the bearer of a missive, 
 enclosing the " Governor's " check for fifty 
 pounds, or a birthday present of thin paper 
 magicians from " my mother." 
 
 So Elliot brings in the post-bag, and 
 deposits it, not at the bottom of the table, 
 as is usual, but before his master, who has 
 left his seat and is standing beside Mrs.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 163 
 
 Sheffield, about to bid her and his guests, 
 adieu for the day. 
 
 '^ Ah ! the post — how late Tom is to-day," 
 said he, as he unlocked the bag, and let its 
 contents fall upon the table. " I cannot wait 
 to hear any of the news this morning. Ah ! 
 here is a letter from Holford — there is Lord 
 Altonby's seal, you can keep that, my dear, 
 it is only about his arrival — any more for 
 me ? No ! well then, I leave you to distri- 
 bute the rest, and wish you all a very good 
 morning." And Mr. Sheffield, with an 
 especial word or two for some particular 
 guest, passed down the room, and, followed 
 by the obsequious Elliot, went to get on his 
 great coat and fur riding-gloves, in the 
 hall. 
 
 There were some eight or ten letters 
 before Mrs. Sheffield, and as she singled out 
 each and delivered it to the ready hand 
 put forth by its anxious owner, her eye fell 
 upon the address of a letter, in such a fair 
 and flowing hand, that involuntarily she 
 lifted and examined it nearer. It was for 
 Darnley. A French envelope directed to Dover, 
 
 M 2
 
 164 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 and forwarded on. After a moment's investi- 
 gation, the mother laid it down beside her till 
 he should arrive. 
 
 Mrs. Sheffield, as we have said, laid it 
 down beside her. What imp of mischief 
 prompted her, when conversation was again in 
 the full current, and each guest brimful of some 
 piece of good or ill news, some honnebouche of 
 gossip, was anxious to disseminate it to his 
 neighbour — what prompted her to lift that 
 letter again — to examine it closely and 
 hurriedly — to glance around as if in fear of 
 observation, and then to pore with such a 
 l)urning glance of wild curiosity upon the 
 seal, that it was a wonder the wax did not 
 dissolve and reveal its secrets at the 
 instant ? Thus she held it, while bitter and 
 suspicious thoughts passed through her brain. 
 Her husband's words recurred to her, " Had 
 Darnley formed an attachment, did she 
 think ? " And in lier heart she now said, with 
 a bursting emotion of grief and disappoint- 
 ment, as she looked at the graceful lines, 
 suggesting feminine youth and loveliness in 
 every curve, that it was too true he had!
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 165 
 
 She put it down hastily ; the very touch 
 seemed to scorch her. What idea was it that 
 came into her head, and was rejected with 
 such a proud bhish of scorn ? It was fortu- 
 nate no one observed her. Should she give 
 it to her son privately, and ask the history of 
 the writing ? No ! that would seem to treat 
 him too much Hke a child. She would 
 present it immediately upon his appearance, 
 and watch his face while he recognized the 
 address, that would decide all. 
 
 As these thoughts passed through her 
 mind, a step was heard, the door opened, and 
 Darnley, somewhat flushed, but perfectly 
 self-possessed, entered, and apologised for 
 his delay in joining the breakfast table. 
 Strange, that now her anxiety was that her 
 son should not see the letter. She drew it 
 nearer and nearer, until at length it fell into 
 her lap. — Fie ! Mrs. Sheffield ! what would 
 you do with your son's property ? — She is 
 unconscious ; she knows not what will be 
 best or right for her to do ; she forgets her 
 resolution to deliver up the dangerous billet 
 to its proper owner. We must believe, in her
 
 166 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 bewilderment, that she scarcely knows what 
 she is doing, but when Darnley reaches the 
 head of the table, and addresses his mother 
 with the usual morning salutations and com- 
 pliments, there is no letter lying beside Mrs. 
 Sheffield's tea-cup — it is gone ! 
 
 The breakfast passed. Darnley ate but 
 little, and said less, but this Mrs. Sheffield 
 failed to observe, she was talking so rapidly 
 to her neighbour, Mr. Wyatt. One by one 
 the guests rose and sauntered to the stable, 
 the covers, or the billiard-table. No one re- 
 marked that Cameron drew Rosamond to the 
 drawing-room, where only one old lady, very 
 deaf and very blind, had ensconced herself, 
 and was trying to pick up the dropped 
 stitches in a square of a knitted quilt. 
 
 '^ You won't refuse me, I am sure. Miss 
 Sheffield. I am to go to-day. And once 
 again — for the last time, I must hear those 
 words * wedded to your most sweet music. ' " 
 
 " Well 1 don't go until after our excur- 
 sion to-day. A few hours can make but 
 little diffi^rence surely. Nay, you won't set 
 off until we return, and I will sing the
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 167 
 
 song ; " it is an agreement, is it not ? '^ and 
 her companion too happily assented. 
 
 Rosamond seated herself at the piano, and 
 Cameron, half standing, half kneeling on an 
 ottoman, and leaning on his hand, bent over 
 the music-desk beside her, with closed eyes, as 
 if drinking in the melody — 
 
 Pause ! Earth's honour brightly flashes, 
 
 What avails it, child of clay ? 
 O'er the sand. Time's swift wave dashes. 
 
 And thy footprint's swept away. 
 
 Strange, the alternately soothing or excit- 
 ing power of music! As the heart is tuned 
 by the hand of circumstance, it gives forth a 
 harsh or a subduing echo to the language of 
 sweet sounds. As it throbs with ambition, or 
 melts into tenderness — as it faints beneath the 
 anxious dream of coming sorrow, or palpitates 
 with the certainty of hope realized — so vary 
 the description and intensity of the effect 
 produced. Joyous music, indeed, is only so to 
 the ear of youth ; the most lively, the most 
 inspiriting strain to the world's neophyte, is 
 often precisely the one most melancholy to 
 the initiated, who hears a deeper meaning, 
 and thrills to an eloquence of pathos hidden
 
 168 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 from the unthinking ear. Mournful music, 
 on the contrary, lulls and alleviates the 
 stern tension of grief, for it unlocks the dews 
 of consolation ; the sympathetic messenger 
 of comfort, it draws the rankling arrow 
 from the bleeding breast, and steals our con- 
 fidences to transform them from the feverish 
 breath of earthly selfishness, into the subli- 
 mated incense of resignation. 
 
 As the last verse died away in the echoes of 
 the still room, the voice of the singer faltered ; 
 but Cameron did not raise his eyes, or notice 
 her embarrassment in any way. The song, 
 always a favourite — for words and music were 
 Rosamond's ow^n, and what greater charm 
 could they have possessed for him ? — seemed 
 never to have exercised so powerful an influ- 
 ence before. Every note, every syllable, was 
 doubly thrilling now, and so did the tides of 
 his emotion swell towards his fair enchantress, 
 that the effort to retain his self-possession 
 was, perhaps, the most difficult he had ever 
 been called upon to make. 
 
 Rosamond, far from guessing the extent of 
 the feeling she had evoked, was yet conscious
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 169 
 
 that tones in her voice had gone home to the 
 heart of her companion. It is said, the actor 
 feels his success long before the plaudits of 
 the crowd reach him ; that the preacher knows, 
 even while he yet speaks, whether his words 
 fall a healing shower upon the parched and 
 cracking soil. We all know, frequently with- 
 out the assistance of the eyesight, when we 
 have produced the impression we desire ; and 
 thus, when most affected herself, by what she 
 had often hitherto sung unthinkingly, Rosa- 
 mond knew sympathetically she had touched a 
 corresponding chord in the young clergyman's 
 breast. 
 
 ^^ I wish I had that song,'' said he at length, 
 still keeping his face averted. 
 
 " Do you ? " she said, somewhat hurriedly. 
 *^ Oh ! that is soon done ; " and drawing her 
 desk, which stood upon the table, near, she 
 was engaged, busily striking the piano and 
 jotting down the notes alternately, by the 
 time he recovered himself sufficiently to 
 address her upon common-place subjects. 
 
 How often Cameron thought of that con- 
 versation after Wentworth Manor had closed
 
 170 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 upon his sight ! How often he recalled Rosa- 
 mond's gentle talk, the varied but ever- 
 beautiful expression of ideas so fresh and 
 animated, that he, a man of genius and a 
 scholar, listened to her with wonder and 
 admiration. He had given her many a half- 
 hour's assistance in the higher branches of her 
 studies, and the result had been to render her 
 completely at ease in conversation with him. 
 She sat now so composedly beside him, address- 
 ing him as she would an elder brother, that 
 he grew calm also, and as one by one the 
 party sauntered in and out, was able to sustain 
 his usual share in general conversation. 
 
 Did she feel aught for him ? Had she even 
 the interest she would have had in a brother ? 
 He thought not, when he saw Darnley enter, 
 and marked how joyously she sprang up from 
 her employment to accost and draw him near 
 her. No ! he was spared that sorrow, at 
 least — the sacrifice was all his own. He 
 knew, for his penetrating glance had read 
 Mrs. Sheffield as a written page, that he had 
 no hope of aspiring, with the consent of her 
 mother, to the hand of Eosamond ; pride
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 171 
 
 seconded his resolves to bury his secret in his 
 own heart, for was he not nearly penniless ? 
 No ! he sighed, the parting that was to him 
 a knell of hope and happiness, would scarcely 
 accelerate the pulses of her he loved. He 
 would go, and in a week, perhaps even in a 
 day, an hour, all remembrance of him would 
 have vanished from her mind. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mrs. Sheffield had sought her 
 own apartment, and locking the door, seated 
 herself, shivering with another sensation than 
 cold, near the fire. Her countenance was 
 contracted with pain and anxiety, the veins 
 on her temples worked rapidly, and her fingers 
 clasped the arms of the chair in which 
 she reclined, as if she dreaded to fall to the 
 ground. 
 
 In front of her, upon the table, was the 
 letter. 
 
 That Darnley had an attachment, his 
 mother had convinced herself. Indeed, she 
 was one not likely to be deceived, and 
 maternal instinct rendered her, also, more 
 quicksighted than any other person could have 
 proved. She was equally assured that this
 
 172 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 attachment was an unworthy one. His silence 
 was evidence of that. Once this morning 
 since her husband's words had confirmed, not 
 agitated, her doubts, she had thought that 
 perhaps his love was an unfortunate one, but 
 that was before the post came, and brought 
 this terrible letter. Now there was end to all 
 doubt, to all hope ; she felt an inward convic- 
 tion that it came from the object of his attach- 
 ment ; that this love was at its zenith at the 
 present moment; and that until it could be 
 extinguished, all the brilliant schemes for her 
 son's aggrandizement that she had for the 
 last few days deemed so nearly crowned with 
 success, would be powerless and abortive. 
 
 For more than an hour Mrs. Sheffield sat 
 immovable, a prey to the gnawing disappoint- 
 ment which she made no efibrt to control. 
 Her painful reverie was broken by the sound 
 of voices underneath, and waking, as with a 
 start, she mechanically moved towards the 
 window. 
 
 Below, on the steps of the portico, stood 
 Eosamond and Lady Fanny, enveloped in a. 
 couple of shawls, which they had taken hastily
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 173 
 
 from the hall table. The figure of the former 
 was scarcely revealed, for she stood within the 
 shadow of the pillar, surrounded by several 
 other persons ; but Lady Fanny, whose cha- 
 racteristics were of a description to shine at 
 a distance rather than near, appeared to 
 greater advantage than Mrs. Sheffield ever 
 remembered seeing her. The aristocratic 
 '^ pose " of her head, the slight air of hauteur 
 habitual to her, and the gesture of command 
 with which she now raised her arm, all struck 
 the observer strongly. 
 
 Mrs. Sheffield clenched herhands together: — 
 '^ The very wife for him ! Firm, decided 
 of purpose, formed to sway his indecision, and 
 to lead him to noble aims, to command at 
 once respect and affection. Oh ! Darnley, 
 you would be doubly my son, as her husband. 
 How I have thought, and planned, and 
 manoeuvred ! and now I have got them here, 
 have engaged the Earl to assist me in my 
 plans ; now Avhen I can fancy they see both of 
 them the object I have in view, and are pre- 
 pared to give their daughter, the heiress of a 
 proud name, to my son — the son of Sheffield,
 
 174 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 the merchant ! now to be thwarted by this 
 contretemps, to make this frightful discovery ! 
 Oh ! it is dreadful ! '' 
 
 She looked again at the group ; one 
 of Lady Di Tilbury's grooms was leading a 
 bright bay steed up to the door, and Lady 
 Fanny, descending with Rosamond and two of 
 the gentlemen, seemed to be making inquiries 
 relative to the animal. At this moment 
 Darnley joined the young lady, and if Mrs. 
 Sheffield had before admired the one, she now 
 felt doubly disposed to praise her companion. 
 His head was uncovered, and the curling dark 
 locks played about in the wind : his sym- 
 metrical and active figure was bent to address 
 Lady Fanny, and after a moment's discussion, 
 he caught the horse-cloth from the groom, and 
 unfolding it, attached it to the pommel of the 
 lady's saddle, with which the animal was 
 already equipped. In another instant he had 
 vaulted lightly into his seat, and was galloping 
 the bay down the drive, and round the fenced 
 paddock in front, flapping the flowing cloth 
 about its head as he went. 
 
 It was impossible for Mrs. Sheffield to look
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 175 
 
 on without a smile of approbation and pride 
 rising to her countenance. She gazed till she 
 lost his receding figure at the turn, and then 
 walked rapidlj towards the table where lay 
 the letter. 
 
 '^ No ! " she murmured, ^^ it shall not be ; I 
 will prevent it. They think probably they 
 have him; I will show them their mistake. 
 Lady Fanny, and Lady Fanny alone, shall be 
 Darnley's wife ; rank, power, position, are be- 
 fore us if I succeed in this hope of my heart, 
 and succeed 1 shall — when did I fail ? " 
 
 " Mamma, mamma," cried Eosamond's 
 voice outside. " Oh ! do come down. Lady 
 Di has sent us her favourite bay for Lady 
 Fanny, and Darnley has gone to try it for her, 
 lest it should not be gentle. All seems right, 
 however ; but we have to get on our habits, 
 and the Grenvilles are arrived. Will you go 
 down to them ? " 
 
 "In a moment, ^my dear," and as Mrs. 
 Sheffield spoke, she caught up the letter and 
 concealed it between her hands, as if she 
 feared observation, even through the closed 
 door. Its touch seemed as that of a scorpion.
 
 173 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 and Mrs. Sheffield started and made a hurried 
 movement forward. 
 
 '' Go down, Eose, to your friends ; I will 
 join you immediately." 
 
 She approached the fire, and held the letter 
 suspended above the flames. They burned 
 brightly in the frosty morning, and the heat 
 touched Mrs. Sheffield's delicate hand as she 
 held it undecidedly in its perilous position. As 
 she stood thus, she noted again the writing, the 
 seal, the ^Hout ensemble" of the packet, noted 
 all with sufficient accuracy to be sure if she 
 saw them again, and then dropped the letter 
 upon the burning coals. It shrivelled and 
 turned, and the seal giving way, the fire 
 spread out the thin paper, and discovered a 
 portion of the contents. Though she could 
 thus destroy her son's letter, Mrs. Sheffield 
 would have scorned to read a word of its 
 contents. She turned away therefore as the 
 words became strangely visible upon the char- 
 ring paper, nor looked again, until the curled- 
 up fragment of black shreds was all that re- 
 mained of the fatal billet. 
 
 But in that moment, short as it was, three
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 177 
 
 words had met the eye of the ruthless de- 
 stroyer. 
 
 Three words only — '' Separation — death — 
 Estelle ! " 
 
 Mrs. Sheffield remembered them well after- 
 wards. 
 
 VOL. I. jf
 
 178 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A CHANCE SHOT. 
 
 The Glen waterfall was one of the lions of 
 Wentworth Manor. It was situated some 
 five miles off, and the road to it led through 
 undulating hilly country, studded with vene- 
 rable trees, to the gorge of two knolls, flanked 
 by an elevation of still greater importance, 
 down which a considerable stream of water, 
 almost dignified enough to be called a torrent, 
 fell, lashed into foaming madness. 
 
 Though the trees were bare of leaves gene- 
 rally, this place abounded in evergreens, and
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 179 
 
 thus its beauty was not annihilated by the 
 time of year. The glossy leaves of the holly, 
 the drooping branches of the yew, and the 
 feathery foliage of the dark green firs clothed 
 both sides of the ravine, while portions of 
 rock, apparently cast here and there by some 
 convulsion of nature, and verdant with soft 
 moss, skirted the sides of the road. 
 
 The day was precisely that best suited to the 
 enjoyment of horse exercise. The air was 
 bracing and exhilarating, the sun bright, and 
 falling in long slant rays through the branches, 
 and as the early buds of a tree caught its 
 light, they were straightway transformed into 
 silver dots gemming the azure sky. A bird 
 • ever and anon carolled his wild song, which a 
 fanciful ear would easily have translated into 
 a pagan for the approaching spring ; and sheep- 
 bells tinkling in the distance, mingled plea- 
 santly with the soothing plash of the flilling 
 water, to complete the rustic concert. 
 
 Our gay party of equestrians explored 
 every corner of the glen, and admired the 
 cascade from each of Rosamond's favourite 
 points of observation. Dismounting at length, 
 
 N 2
 
 180 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 and leaving their horses in a rustic shed of 
 heather used for the purpose by visitors, they 
 descended to the lower part of the fall, where 
 the servants already awaited them. 
 
 The rocks here had fallen into many fan- 
 tastic shapes, and two or three of the largest 
 lay anglewise, forming a kind of natural hol- 
 low. Time had filled up the interstices with 
 the drooping foliage of parasite plants, and 
 the cave was thus rendered impervious to the 
 weather. Within this recess, which com- 
 manded a beautiful view of the basin into 
 which the cascade fell, separated into thin 
 streams of limpid crystal, was set out a fairy 
 banquet, a large fiat stone forming no bad 
 substitute for a table, and the ride had suf- 
 ficiently sharpened the appetites of the visi- 
 tors, to make them fully appreciate its appear- 
 ance, whilst all agreed in pronouncing the 
 wine perfect, when qualified with the sparkling 
 waters of the fountain. The day was, how- 
 ever, far advanced ; time did not permit of 
 their remaining long at this pretty spot, and 
 as the shadows gathered around, making a 
 perfect night from the heights which encircled
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 181 
 
 the cave, they prepared to turn their steps 
 homeward, though slowly and reluctantly. 
 
 Eosamond, who had stayed behind to give 
 some instructions to the servants, found her- 
 self, with Lady Fanny and Mr. Cameron, the 
 last to quit the cave and ascend the ravine, 
 to the spot where the horses had been left. 
 He led the way, separating the underwood as 
 he went, for their passage, and the two ladies, 
 busy with the arrangement of the skirts of 
 their riding-habits, followed, chatting merrily 
 as they went. When they neared the top, 
 however, Lady Fanny remembered that she 
 had left her riding-whip in a recess in the 
 cave, and Cameron again descended, intending, 
 when sufficiently near, to call the servants, 
 and desire them to bring it wdth them. 
 
 Eosamond and Lady Fanny walked on for 
 a moment in silence ; they were on level 
 ground now, and the latter advanced and put 
 her arm through that of Miss Sheffield. Their 
 intimacy had greatly progressed within the 
 last day or two, and it bid fair to ripen into 
 something like friendship, for each was inte- 
 rested and pleased with the gradually develop-
 
 182 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 ing characteristics of her companion, while 
 the daughter of the earl, indeed, who had good 
 sense enough to look for the refinement of 
 nature, irrespective of that of birth, felt a 
 decided conviction that the merchant's child 
 was very considerably the superior of most 
 of those with whom her position and her 
 destinies associated her. 
 
 The evening had fairly drawn in. It was 
 not dark, nor indeed would be for some time, 
 but the twilight was thick and heavy, and the 
 wind blew keenly. 
 
 *^ You are not cold. Lady Fanny?" said 
 Rosamond, observing that her companion shiv- 
 ered as her arm lay in hers. 
 
 *^ Don't call me ^ lady,' — pray say Fanny ; 
 plain Fanny, I was going to say, only perhaps 
 some day I might take it into my head to 
 think that personal, at once. Every one calls 
 you ^ Eosamond ; ' even Mr. Cameron," she 
 added wickedly ; " so I shall have no difficulty 
 in following the example. I have a mind 
 to be friends with you, — what do you 
 ?" 
 
 "Agreed," said Rosamond, smiling; "al-
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 183 
 
 though you must forgive me, if I confess 
 my incredulity in hastily-formed friendships. 
 One must be intimate with a person some 
 time, I think, do you know, to feel real 
 friendship for her; that is, a friendship 
 in the proper sense of the word, one in- 
 capable of change, of doubt, of obliteration." 
 
 " Don't be didactic, my dear ; and, above 
 all, spare me your charming enthusiasm ; I 
 haven't a particle in my composition." 
 
 *^ You must not do yourself such injus- 
 tice. I have seen you to the full as en- 
 thusiastic as I can ever be, only it is upon 
 such points that, I am ashamed to say, seem 
 to me almost indifferent." 
 
 ^^ Ah ! I wasn't enraptured with your water- 
 fall, to-day ; you owe me a grudge, and this is 
 the way you pay it." 
 
 ^^Nay, I ought to add to my confession, 
 that I believe the objects of your interest 
 are worth ten times as much, generally, as 
 those exciting mine. The fault is in my 
 imagination; it runs away with my judg- 
 ment, usurps all the sovereignty, while you — " 
 
 " Have none at all, — ^ soit.' Well, Eosa-
 
 184 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 mond, I almost think you are right. Now 
 really it is a sad thing, isn't it? — do you 
 know, I am going to tell you a secret — 
 positively, so accurately have you judged, I 
 am afraid that I shan't have imagination 
 enough to fall in love/' 
 
 ^^ Terrible ! " was the rejoinder, in the same 
 demure tone. 
 
 ^^ Ah! I am in earnest." 
 
 " Shall I tell you what will be in fault 
 more than the poor imagination, if the melan- 
 choly prophecy be fulfilled ? " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Your pride. I may know nothing about 
 it, for my experience in judging of cha- 
 racters has been * extremely limited,' but 
 it seems to me that you are too impatient 
 of control, too independent, too self-sustain- 
 ing, ever to permit your heart and fancy to be 
 enslaved by mortal man." 
 
 '^ Go on," said Lady Fanny, nodding her 
 head — "you are a little witch." 
 
 " And that, if such a catastrophe were 
 to arrive, you would, so far from ever con- 
 fessing it "
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 185 
 
 *^Here is your whip/' said Cameron, as 
 he overtook them, and put a stop to the 
 remaining part of a sentence which had 
 been spoken in so low a tone as to ren- 
 der the supposition pardonable upon his 
 part, that there had been no conversation 
 going on to interrupt ; and hurrying for- 
 ward, the trio came to the place of ren- 
 dezvous. 
 
 Here, however, to their surprise, they 
 only found a servant left in charge of Gipsy, 
 Lady Di Tilbury's steed, and that appropriated 
 to the use of Mr. Cameron, the rest of the 
 party having gone on towards home. One 
 more — Darnley Sheffield, who cantered up to 
 them upon his Arab, Mahmoud, which he had 
 been walking up and down to keep warui, 
 while he awaited their arrival. 
 
 " I might have made sure you would wait, 
 dear Darnley," said Eosamond, as he helped 
 her to mount, after placing Lady Fanny in 
 the saddle. 
 
 ^^I began to get anxious about you, the 
 evening grows so chilly," he returned, and the 
 voice was again like the Darnley of old, to
 
 186 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 his sister's ear. It seemed, indeed, as if there 
 were some extraordinary influence in the 
 vicinity of home, formerly so beloved, which 
 preyed upon the young man's spirits, and 
 Eosamond, who knew, in part at least, whence 
 his agitation proceeded, felt overjoyed to see 
 him throw off, if but for a moment, the 
 anxious fear that seemed to possess him, — to be 
 again as was his wont. 
 
 ^'I shall scold you if Mahmoud suffers for 
 waiting for your little ladyship to-night," said 
 Darnley. ^^Oh ! Kose, he is splendid; knows me 
 just as well as ever, and needs scarcely a word, 
 so well remembers he my old accustomed sig- 
 nals. Never was there such a glorious fellow,'' he 
 went on, patting the animal's neck with boyish 
 delight. ^^ And although, from having missed 
 my exercising so long, he pulls pretty sharply, 
 I feel ^ Eichard's himself again ' only when 
 mounted and off. You should have seen him 
 prick up his ears just now, when I thought I 
 heard the hounds in the distance. By-the-bye, 
 what hounds are they that are out to-day ? " 
 and Darnley, finding Eosamond was unaware 
 of more than that it was not the Wentworth
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 187 
 
 pack, fell back for a moment to inquire of the 
 groom. 
 
 ^^The Kirby fox-hounds are somewhere 
 near," he said to Lady Fanny, as he joined 
 her. " I wish I had known of it." 
 
 The four equestrians rode along quietly for 
 about ten minutes. The road was steep and 
 difficult for a short distance ; but after that it 
 became level, and Cameron put his horse into 
 a swinging trot to keep up with Gipsy, whose 
 light hoofs scarcely appeared to touch the 
 ground, as she cantered along with her grace- 
 ful rider. 
 
 Not a word was spoken. Lady Fanny and 
 her esquire, Darnley, who were a little behind, 
 were, at first, both occupied with Eosamond, 
 and then their thoughts wandered far away 
 from the present scene. The stillness was 
 intense, almost undisturbed by the sound of 
 the horses' feet, for the road was not stony, 
 and occasionally the turf offered a still more 
 eligible path for their present pace. 
 
 Suddenly, and within apparently a short 
 distance, a wild baying, as if three or four 
 score of hounds, in full cry and mixed
 
 188 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 with the still shriller halloos of several 
 human voices, was heard. The effect of the 
 " burst " was electric ; the dogs had evidently 
 been at fault, and now, after, possibly, a long 
 interval, had "found." Darnley looked out 
 in the direction whence the sound came ; he 
 could just distinguish several dark spots pass- 
 ing and repassing across a field, a considerable 
 distance in advance. The young man's pulses 
 quickened ; he began to long to be among 
 them, when his whole attention was suddenly 
 turned to his companion, who called out to 
 him to come to her assistance. 
 
 At the first note of the hounds. Lady 
 Fanny's mare, a practised hunter, had begun 
 to show symptoms of agitation. Her limbs 
 quivered convulsively ; she pulled violently 
 for a moment against the rein, curveted from 
 side to side, and gave her rider so much 
 trouble to sit, that the latter drew sharply on 
 the curb with the intention of stopping her. 
 For a moment there was an even battle 
 between horse and rider. The bay gained the 
 day. Swift as thought she threw her head in 
 the air, thus loosening the rein, despite the
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 189 
 
 firmness of the hand that held it, and Lady 
 Fanny felt her control over the animal was 
 gone. She did not call out, she did not shriek, 
 but her heart gave one sharp throb, and then 
 seemed to become stone in her bosom, as the 
 mare, laying her ears close to her head, and 
 throwing her neck wildly from side to side, 
 gave a peculiar cry, and with one tremendous 
 bound sprang forward, leaving Rosamond, 
 Cameron, and Darnley all in one moment far 
 behind. 
 
 " They will save me," she said to herself 
 once, but the hope died away as soon as 
 uttered. On went the mare, like a mad crea- 
 ture; the sound of the hoofs rang on the 
 ground like thunder. Lady Fanny straight- 
 ened her figure in the saddle, and endeavoured 
 to make use of the small experience she pos- 
 sessed in keeping her seat. She felt she 
 could not sustain this speed long. Listening 
 as well as she could,' she tried to distinguish the 
 sound of persons coming to her assistance, and 
 at last, in a paroxysm of suspense, she turned 
 and looked back. No one was following her 
 — not a creature was in sight.
 
 190 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 Just in front of the maddened animal lay 
 the cross-road, down which the dogs had gone. 
 Lady Fanny felt sure the mare would turn 
 the corner and follow them. Her brain grew 
 dizzy at the thought. Should she be able to 
 keep the saddle ? Alas ! she feared not. With 
 closed eyes, therefore, for the sight of the 
 wild plunges of the mare horrified her still 
 more than the sensation of them, she was borne 
 onward, expecting every moment to be vio- 
 lently dashed to the ground, perhaps — still 
 more terrible thought ! — falling with the 
 horse's weight above to crush her. 
 
 Meanwhile, at the first signal of unruliness 
 in the mare, Darnley had dashed forward, in- 
 tending to seize the rein, but her movements 
 were so rapid, that she was fairly off before he 
 could reach her side. He sat for a second 
 paralysed by the sight, as she disappeared like 
 an arrow from the bow ; but all three horses 
 needed care, for the fright had almost set 
 them off in pursuit, and Darnley 's had already 
 carried him out of sight of Cameron and 
 Rosamond, whose steeds were more easily re- 
 duced to composure.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 191 
 
 The young man hesitated, and brought 
 Mahmoud into a gentle canter. He dared 
 not follow the runaway mare, for the sound of 
 the Arab's hoofs would only have still further 
 irritated her, and increased the peril of the 
 unfortunate girl. At this moment, he came in 
 full sight of the hounds. He observed the 
 whole at a glance ; they were to the right of 
 him, having passed the cross-road at the end. 
 The mare was already halfway to the turning. 
 Darnley uttered a mental prayer that the 
 rider might keep her seat only past the corner 
 he knew the mare would turn sharply, and 
 then he leaped the fence on his right, and gal- 
 loped his horse at full speed along the meadow, 
 over hedge and ditch, across every impedi- 
 ment, thus hoping to meet and intercept the 
 impetuous bay, before she had encountered 
 any leap likely to throw the rider from her 
 seat. 
 
 It was a neck-and-neck race, who should 
 get to the corner first. He had the base only 
 of a triangle to traverse, the mare the two 
 sides, but then his path was more difficult, 
 and thus the longer. He approached the point
 
 192 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 at which he trusted to meet Lady Fanny. He 
 strained his eyes to discover her — listened 
 breathlessly — and now the horse's hoofs were 
 plainly distinguishable. Yes ! there she was 
 in sight, plunging wildly forward ; and, 
 heaven be praised ! the poor girl still erect in 
 her seat. 
 
 But an obstacle to both his progress and 
 that of the mare, which he had not calculated 
 upon, presented itself at this moment, and 
 Darnley's heart died within him at the sight. 
 The path taken by the hounds led across a 
 bridge, which the mare in her haste, although 
 the country was well known to her, missed. 
 She came onward at the same frightful pace, 
 but her progress would be stopped in a mo- 
 ment, as Darnley perceived, for a part of the 
 same ravine which formed the Glen Waterfall 
 lay immediately before him, separating him 
 from her he desired to save — for he was on 
 one side, she on the other. 
 
 On the bay came, nearer and nearer. The 
 ravine was deep, and so wide was the chasm 
 that even if the mare attempted to leap it, 
 there were nine chances to one she would fail.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 193 
 
 Even if she cleared it, could the girl she bore, 
 upon whom signs of fatigue and horror were now 
 plainly visible in the bent figure and hands 
 clasping the front of the saddle and the mare's 
 flowing mane — could she retain her hold? 
 Darnlej instinctively struck his heels into his 
 horse's sides. No ! he would save her if pos- 
 sible — his own danger was nothing. Mahmoud 
 was perfect at a leap ; he could vault like a 
 greyhound over gaps nearly as wide as this. 
 Cheering the noble creature forward, and with 
 a firm hand and buoyant seat, Darnley put 
 him at the leap. 
 
 Lady Fanny heard the sound. She opened 
 h^ eyes, and used her last remaining strength 
 to observe fully the spectacle that met her 
 view. The ravine was within a few feet of 
 her — a minute more would bring her to its 
 edge. She fully expected that the shock would 
 precipitate her with the mare into the depths 
 below. Yet even in this moment of peril 
 the figure of Darnley struck her forcibly. 
 Erect, fearless, instinct with grace and energy, 
 the young man appeared, as, standing in his 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 stirrups, he urged his horse across the frightful 
 
 gap. 
 
 /^I will not look again," said Lady 
 Fanny, firmly, to herself *^ He or I, perhaps 
 both, may be lost." 
 
 A minute had scarcely elapsed when Lady 
 Fanny felt the movements of the horse vio- 
 lently arrested. The mare stood upon the 
 brink of the precipice — beside her was young 
 Sheffield, dismounted, his horse standing, 
 breathing heavily and with quivering flank a 
 few paces off. 
 
 "Quick — quick — jump !" gasped Darnley, 
 assisting her with one hand, while the other 
 struggled to detain the mare, still violently 
 plunging. Scarcely were the words uttered, 
 when, with a singing sound, the bridle broke, 
 the rein flew aloft in the air, and the same 
 shock that hurled Lady Fanny into the arms of 
 her preserver, threw the maddened mare, over- 
 poised by the sudden withdrawal of Darnley's 
 grasp, down the crumbling sides of the preci- 
 pice, the flashing hoofs, as she vainly 
 struggled to maintain her footing, disappearing 
 upturned, as the impetuous animal met her
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 195 
 
 fate. The other horse stood paralyzed. 
 Darnley was the first to speak. 
 
 *' Yon are not hurt?" said he. 
 
 '' Oh ! no.'^ 
 
 She was extended on the grass. The young 
 man, with a tender politeness which he had 
 been ever used to extend to women, however 
 humble, had knelt down, and was supporting 
 her head upon his arm, while his other hand 
 was raised in unloosing the strings of her 
 riding-cap, and removing the folds of her veil, 
 to give her air. 
 
 How dark it was growing! He could 
 scarcely distinguish more than her eyes, which 
 were raised unshrinkingly to his. Those who 
 could see no beauty in Lady Fanny Denham 
 should have looked at her then. 
 
 "You have preserved my life,'^ she said, 
 slowly and in a low voice, but not an accent 
 wavered — " and for it you perilled your own. 
 Oh ! it was fearful ! And yet so glorious was 
 the sight — so new, so exciting was the feeling, 
 that I would dare it all — and perhaps the 
 avowal is the best means I have of showing 
 my gratitude — to be again saved, thus !" 
 
 02
 
 196 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 LOVE Vei'SUS DUTY. 
 
 Mrs. Sheffield was so unwell upon the 
 return of the party from their ride, that it 
 was considered best not to inform her of the 
 imminent peril her son had so narrowly 
 escaped, and from which he had been fortu- 
 nate enough to rescue Lady Fanny Denham. 
 Eosamond, considerably agitated by the events 
 of the evening, presided at the dinner-table, 
 escorted thither by Lord Altonby, who, ac- 
 cording to Mrs. Sheffield's expectation, had 
 arrived, though but shortly before the return
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 197 
 
 of our unfortunate equestrians, and now took 
 no pains to disguise the admiration he felt 
 for the young lady, or the errand which had, 
 to all appearance, brought him to Went worth 
 Manor. 
 
 Darnley had led Mahmoud, bearing Lady 
 Fanny's light figure, erect as ever — though 
 she was more silent and abstracted than her 
 wont — to the house. Pre-occupied as he was 
 by his own thoughts, there was something in 
 her manner which excited his attention, and 
 even to a certain extent commanded his in- 
 terest. She trembled as he lifted her to the 
 ground ; and Darnley, who viewed, as many 
 men of his particular temperament do, any 
 display of courage and presence of mind in 
 women, with an exaggerated species of ad- 
 miration and surprise, — Darnley experienced a 
 throb of emotion, when he thought that his 
 had been the hand to snatch this proud, this 
 independent creature from the destruction 
 which she had looked so boldly, so unhesita- 
 tingly, in the face. 
 
 Once indeed, raising his eyes suddenly, the 
 young man encountered a glance from hers,
 
 J 98 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 SO musingly keen and thrilling, that his cheek 
 involuntarily reddened, though she turned her 
 gaze away in embarrassment, the instant she 
 found herself perceived. For a moment, he 
 felt as if his secret were known to her ; but 
 the reflection of another told him that this was 
 impossible — he was safe as yet. Why then, 
 that anxious, that earnest gaze of inquiry, 
 half-protecting, half-tender, she had fixed upon 
 him ? Darnley was puzzled. 
 
 Among the party assembled round that 
 princely board, — whatever the cares hidden 
 beneath the gay-company exterior, — there was 
 no one more racked by present grief and 
 anxiety for the future than Edward Cameron. 
 
 Alas ! when so coolly thinking of his depar- 
 ture in the morning, how he had miscalculated 
 his own powers of endurance — how deeply he 
 had been deceived as to the intensity of the 
 passion slumbering in his breast ! There was 
 Rosamond, dearer tenfold than she had even 
 appeared a few hours before; for in the agita- 
 tion of her brother's and her guest's danger, 
 she had forgotten, for an instant, woman's in- 
 stinctive reserve and pardonable deception,
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 199 
 
 and spoken to hiin in tones betraying the 
 tender confidence she reposed in his intelli- 
 gence and support. Yes ! there she was ; 
 but what change had taken place in her, how 
 were her feelings altered since the morning ? 
 Had his increased in earnestness, been fanned 
 into flame by her hurried appeal in the mo- 
 ment of danger, and hers been permitted, but 
 for a solitary instant, to creep forth, only to 
 be crushed back again into the silent recesses 
 of her nature, there to remain imprisoned 
 till they were taught to flow, at the bidding 
 of an imperious mother, into channels his heart 
 trembled to anticipate? Some vapid fop, some 
 calculating schemer, some cold and heartless 
 profligate, — to be the possessor of that peerless, 
 that pure creature, and then Cameron looked 
 at Lord Altonby, and thought all three were 
 combined in him. 
 
 Yery earnest, and spoken in suppressed ac- 
 cents, were the words which his lordship was 
 now addressing to Miss Sheffield. He could 
 not be guilty of the solecism of making actual 
 love at such a moment, and before such a 
 company ; but if not, why did Eosamond
 
 200 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 listen with drooping eyelids, and when she 
 raised her countenance, reveal so flushed and 
 agitated a glance ? Cameron was growing 
 jealous. He tried to feel indifferent, to say 
 to himself that she was nothing to him, to 
 look aside, and think of other things. But it 
 would not do. Again and again, his glance 
 reverted to her and her companion. As 
 Altonby grew more ardent, so waxed his rival 
 more impatient — more irritated. A feeling of 
 reproach to Rosamond also came stealthily into 
 his mind. How could she countenance such 
 marked attention ? How could she even 
 tacitly permit the language it was evident 
 he was addressing to her ? Cameron felt in- 
 jured — he knew not why. 
 
 But just as the agitated observer became 
 provoked to the utmost pitch of endurance 
 by the empressment the gentleman evinced, 
 and disquieted by the passive manner of the 
 lady, the latter, suddenly, after listening for a 
 moment to some remark more than ordinarily 
 significant, changed colour rapidly, and then 
 lifted to the speaker, first, a glance of such 
 innocent surprise, and then one of such flash-
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 201 
 
 ing indignation, that his bold gaze sank 
 abashed beneath it. And then Hosamond 
 looked round the table, and her eyes, suffused 
 with trembling drops, rested, Cameron thought, 
 on Darnley, anon turned hopelessly away. 
 The yielding lines of the young man's 
 countenance seemed, indeed, to afford but 
 little encouragement to the feeling which 
 prompted that inquiring look. Again the 
 wandering orbs glanced timidly around ; 
 and this time with an expression which 
 Cameron, for his life, could not but have 
 answered — they turned earnestly, almost 
 supplicatingly, upon himself. It was but 
 momentary, but the feeling of a lifetime 
 was comprised in that sympathetic glance. 
 It was irresistible — decisive. The mind of 
 Cameron was henceforth made up. 
 
 The time was approaching for his depar- 
 ture. He, who had so lately reproached 
 the hours for their rapid flight, now would 
 have gladly accelerated the leaden footsteps 
 which appeared to him scarcely to creep 
 languidly forward. He thought the ladies 
 would never go ; that Lady Bolsover's des-
 
 202 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 sert-plate and wine-glass would never be 
 exhausted; but at length the happy mo- 
 ment arrived. Unobserved by a single 
 member of the gay party, he had rapidly 
 traced a few pencil lines on a scrap torn 
 from his tablets, and as Eosamond passed 
 him, she felt her fingers for one moment 
 lightly held in a clasp which instinctively 
 she recognised; the next, they closed upon 
 a small folded paper, which, with bewilder- 
 ment, and yet a thrill of pleasure, she re- 
 tained concealed, until the lights in the 
 drawing-room permitted her to read the words 
 faintly traced there. 
 
 Only these — 
 
 ^' Miss Sheffield — Rosamond ! I am going. 
 We shall probably not meet again for months. 
 In the library, in ten minutes' time, I shall 
 be awaiting you. Do not refuse me a few 
 words — they are of deep moment to you, 
 
 and " the last letters were so 
 
 faintly written, that the word was illegi- 
 ble ; Rosamond thought it was "Darn- 
 ley." 
 
 Oh ! light of love, of youth, of hope !
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 203 
 
 Who that feels the first blissful conscious- 
 ness that he is beloved by the one, can 
 hesitate to calculate proprieties, or weigh 
 the value of a hasty promise ? Happiness ! 
 if for one brief moment thou art given to 
 mortal sight, through mortal passion, it is 
 in such a throb of rapture as this, the 
 wild momentary delirium of realization that 
 we are loved even as we love ! 
 
 It was natural that Eosamond should for- 
 get her mother at a moment when her 
 heart brimmed over with the thrilling, the 
 overpowering thought that Cameron was 
 going — that she was about to listen to his 
 farewell ; perhaps to the avowal — but, no ! 
 the idea of that, if it entered, spirit-like, 
 the soul of the maiden, never assumed dis- 
 tinctness. She was conscious of a feeling 
 inexpressibly sweet; but she had no time 
 to analyze it ; she was as ignorant of its 
 nature, as satisfied to experience it, without 
 inquiring its cause. Strange as it may 
 appear, the thought of Darnley occupied 
 her, and she imagined occupied her wholly ; 
 and as she entered the library, which she
 
 204 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 did, quite undisturbed by doubt or mis- 
 giving, at the appointed time, it was the 
 name also of Darnley that was upon her 
 lips. 
 
 Cameron was standing, awaiting her in 
 front of the fireplace. The library was only 
 lighted by the glowing embers of the wood- 
 fire which occasionally sparkled up, illumina- 
 ting the countenances of the young pair. 
 Eosamond was too full of the thought of her 
 brother, too anxious to hear if Cameron 
 had aught to explain relative to his extra- 
 ordinary bearing, and the dreaded secret 
 which ever trembled on his lips, that, even 
 had there been a more decided light, she 
 would scarcely have noticed the agitation of 
 her lover. 
 
 ^^ Darnley," — she again uttered anxiously, 
 as the young man timidly took her hand for 
 an instant, and released it, murmuring his 
 thanks for her acquiescence in his request. 
 *^ Oh ! Mr. Cameron ! what is it you have to 
 tell me of Darnley ? " 
 
 ^^ It was not of your brother 1 wished to 
 speak," he said at length. ^* When I asked
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 205 
 
 you to give me the opportunity of saying 
 ^farewell' alone, it was of yourself, dearest Miss 
 Sheffield it was your own welfare I was 
 anxious to discuss — " 
 
 ^^Mine?" 
 
 *^ Do you find it so difficult to suppose me 
 interested in that welfare ? " he answered 
 sadly. " But I forget, I must not lose these 
 precious moments. Eosamond ! — listen to 
 me for a space ; and should I say aught that 
 may seem presumptuous, forgive, in setting 
 it to the account of my devotion to your 
 family and — yourself May I speak? " 
 
 She bowed a hurried assent. 
 
 '' Eosamond, I have been so intimately as- 
 sociated with Darnley and yourself, that I 
 may claim in part the privilege of brother to 
 you both. You seem to be in a difficult posi- 
 tion; you are beset by the attentions of a 
 man you never can love. You are urged to 
 encourage him. Mrs. Sheffield is in his in- 
 terest. She has no dearer wish than to see 
 you Lady Altonby. You will be overruled at 
 last — you will consent." 
 
 Eosamond's lips, which had suddenly become
 
 206 RAISED T'O THE PEERAGE. 
 
 icy cold, could scarcely utter the word '^No/' 
 which came trembling forth from them. 
 
 ^4f you do not consent, a painful and weary 
 interval must be passed through before Mrs. 
 Sheffield ceases to resent a disobedience she 
 never will forget. But, beware — oh ! do not 
 be wrought upon by entreaties — be firmly in- 
 exorable to threats — even unmoved by un- 
 kindness or neglect. Do nothing — bear all 
 — rather than marry where your heart is not 
 given with your hand ! " 
 
 He paused a moment, and then went on 
 more rapidly — 
 
 '^ Now what I want you to promise me is 
 this. You will naturally turn to your brother 
 for sympathy — without hesitation seek his co- 
 operation in the expression of your resolves — 
 his aid in preserving your resolution unshaken. 
 Darnley may be away — will be, most proba- 
 bly ; his spirits are evidently shaken by some 
 secret he wishes — yet dreads — to discover to 
 his parents. Darnley will be of little service 
 to you — even should this secret not call him 
 hence. Promise me, Eosamond, if aught 
 should distress — ^if you should find the voice
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 207 
 
 of a friend — a true one (falteringly) — likely 
 to console you under annoyance, or aid you in 
 resolve — only write to me, — at a distance or 
 near, I will be your adviser, and to the best 
 of my poor abilities, a most unselfish one. 
 Shall it be so?" 
 
 Eosamond made no reply; indeed Cameron, 
 overpowered by the eager intensity of his own 
 emotions, scarcely seemed to expect one ; but 
 went on turning his face slightly aside, as 
 if he dreaded to peril his firmness by the sight 
 of any feeling he might have evoked. 
 
 ^^Your parents have set their whole hearts 
 upon your making a brilliant alliance. Again 
 I say, it is a fearful thing to marry without 
 love. But, perhaps, Rosamond, it may be 
 that some day your own choice may coincide 
 with theirs." 
 
 He no longer looked aside now. Turning 
 with an irrepressible gesture of anxiety, al- 
 most desperation, he looked full into her 
 countenance, and awaited breathlessly the 
 words she should speak. Rosamond's eyes 
 fell, closely curtained beneath their silken 
 lashes. She could not bear the earnest scru-
 
 208 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 tiny of that gaze. And yet a faint smile, like 
 the breaking of a sunbeam through the leaves 
 of spring-budding foliage, mingled with the 
 fire-light, and glanced fitfully across her lip 
 and cheek. 
 
 That smile unmanned her companion. For 
 a moment he lost all command of himself — 
 forgot the prudence, the delicacy, the unself- 
 ishness of his resolves. He had made up his 
 mind to what he considered the only honour- 
 able line of conduct. Not like a thief would he 
 steal the affections of the daughter of his patron 
 — he would throw no temptation in her way ; 
 but if the gift were voluntary — if her heart 
 already owned his sway, some look, some 
 word, would betray her, and then 
 
 He thought he perceived such a signal now. 
 Passionately, and yet with respectful reverence, 
 he clasped the hand which Rosamond had laid 
 upon the mantel-piece, and pressed it for a 
 moment to his heart. 
 
 The head of the owner was averted ; the 
 smile no longer shone upon him, but the 
 hand was not withdrawn. Cameron could 
 hear her breath come thick and fast — her
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 209 
 
 slight frame shook, and he could almost see, 
 as did the lover of the peerless Geraldine, 
 
 " The beating of her heart," 
 
 — that heart equally truthful, equally inno- 
 cent. Then there came upon him the over- 
 powering consciousness that he was loved. 
 All minor considerations were forgotten — 
 every other feeling cast aside. He began 
 to speak, hurriedly, tenderly ! — what he 
 might have urged, however, Rosamond was 
 not permitted to hear, for at this critical mo- 
 ment Darnley's voice was heard calling 
 Cameron ; and with more vexation, and even 
 anger, than he had ever before experienced to- 
 wards his pupil, the young clergyman, after a 
 moment's trembling hesitation, went to the 
 door, and answered. Darnley's steps were 
 audible coming across the hall, immediately 
 after. 
 
 Cameron once more sprang to the side ot 
 Rosamond. She looked up as he approached, 
 and without a word put her hand into that he 
 extended to receive it. She seemed to answer 
 his inquiring gaze ; too good, too noble, to 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 affect aught that she did not feel ; too truthful 
 to aim at acting a falsehood even in pursuance 
 of maidenly reserve and caution, she strove to 
 speak, and soothe the anxious yearning of her 
 lover, by words of sympathy and kindness. 
 
 " Do not urge me further now ! Hereafter ! 
 Recall to me this promise when you will. But 
 not now — not now ! Farewell ! " 
 
 Darnley's step was close. She let Cameron 
 press her hands alternately to his lips. Her 
 lover understood fully the nature of her hesita- 
 tion. He would not have urged her to speak 
 more plainly, even, strange to say, if time and 
 opportunity had existed. It was so sweet to 
 hear her address him as she had done. He 
 desired no more. 
 
 *^ Rosamond — one word ! I see and appre- 
 ciate your motive. I respect — I adore you 
 more fully for it ! Some time give me leave 
 to speak, Rosamond ! My lips shall be sealed 
 until the period you wish — you need fear no 
 rash haste, no foolish empressement upon my 
 part. But ah ! dearest one ! life of my life ! 
 remember your lightest whisper shall unclose 
 them. Until then, honour forbids me to say
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 211 
 
 half that burns within ; but let not my proba- 
 tion be too long — too arduous ; have mercy on 
 me!" 
 
 Darnley was in the room. It was fortunate 
 that the fire sunk low and flickering, and that 
 Rosamond's taper yielded, in the distance at 
 which it was placed, a scarcely more decisive 
 light. As her brother entered the room at 
 one door, she glided, unperceived, from it bj 
 the other, which led to the drawing-room, 
 leaving Cameron, strangely shaken by the 
 events of the last few minutes, to sustain the 
 scarcely less agitating announcement from 
 young Sheffield, that he meant to leave Went- 
 worth Manor the following morning, to go, as 
 he said, upon important business abroad. 
 
 For Rosamond's sake, even more than for 
 that of the sufferer, for whom, however, he 
 felt a sincere and protecting attachment, 
 Cameron forgot self in the desire to calm and 
 steady the anxieties of his companion, who 
 seemed half beside himself with emotion. 
 Confidence he never courted from any, least 
 of all from his quondam pupil, but during the 
 few minutes' conversation that now ensued, it 
 
 p2
 
 212 EAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 became too evident that Darnley's distress 
 proceeded from an attachment, the object of 
 which Cameron more than half guessed ; that 
 he had endeavoured in vain to " screw his 
 courage to the sticking-place/' and inform his 
 family of tidings which, it seemed, they would 
 undoubtedly receive with dismay and indigna- 
 tion. Weak and vacillathig, capable of an 
 occasional brilliant exercise of energy, poor 
 Darnley appeared — boy, indeed, as he was, in 
 years as well as disposition — unequal to any sus- 
 tained exertion. His plan was now to gain 
 assistance in his difficult task ; he would — he 
 declared in broken and mysterious sentences — 
 fetch " herJ^ No one could resist her charm, 
 her sweetness. She would — even the actual 
 culprit as she was — be the means of making 
 his peace with his offended parents ; and, as 
 far as Cameron could judge, Darnley seeming, 
 at all events, firm as a rock in his devotion to 
 the fair unknown, this appeared, under all cir- 
 cumstances, the wisest thing to do. 
 
 Cameron did not attempt to combat his 
 arguments, or press upon him forgetfulness, 
 at a moment when his own heart was so
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 213 
 
 keenly susceptible of the influence of a first 
 passion. Had he known the question actually 
 decided, that Darnley trembled under the 
 secret that he was not only a husband, 
 but a father, he might, perhaps, have spoken 
 very differently, have roused the youth's 
 sinking spirits, and strengthened him, now 
 that the mischief was really done, and there 
 was no appeal. As it was, what he said was 
 like himself, generous and noble, and he felt, 
 as we always feel when we have uttered prin- 
 ciples honourable to our hearers and ourselves, 
 rewarded by the inward voice of conscience. 
 He trod firmly, and looked hopeful, even 
 happy, as he entered the drawing-room to bid 
 the ladies ^' adieu." A glance, however, con- 
 vinced him Rosamond was not there, and he 
 was almost glad of it, though his feelings were 
 of a somewhat contradictory nature. It was 
 better, he thought, to remember her as he had 
 lately seen her, in that dim and quiet library, 
 than with the bright lustre of the waxen lights 
 streaming over her countenance, and a score 
 or two of curious eyes looking on, as he 
 pressed her hand for the last time.
 
 214 EAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 Soon, very soon, therefore were the adieux 
 made. Darnley accompanied him to the 
 door. In went the luggage, up went the 
 step, and in five minutes more, Cameron was 
 whirling rapidly through the darkness, flushed 
 with a fervent hope which rendered him in- 
 sensible to the biting cold. 
 
 And where was Kosamond? Long into 
 the night, after her guests had retired, and the 
 house was still, she remained seated beside the 
 couch of her mother. The latter was feverish, 
 and talked somewhat incoherently in her slum- 
 bers, — a not unusual thing with her. Mr. 
 Sheffield had been persuaded to lie down in 
 the dressing-room adjoining. All was silent 
 as the cave of Trophonius, or the temple of 
 the Egyptian Serapis. To such solitudes — 
 where only the heart's pulsations break the 
 solemnity around — where only its answers to 
 the trembling queries of youthful Hope rise 
 half-uttered in musical breathings, as the wild 
 thrilling of Eolian lyres touched by the night- 
 wind — does Love, the beautiful, when newly 
 ascertained, delight to retire. All the hours of 
 darkness, there watched beside the slumberer
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 215 
 
 that young form, instinct with the lustre of 
 the glorious lamp just lighted within ; but 
 ever and anon the sweet silence seemed 
 broken, the light concealed, by the remem- 
 bered words — ^^ Swear, swear, to me, that no 
 feeling of love shall ever be nourished in your 
 hearts, unauthorized by me ! " 
 And then Rosamond wept.
 
 216 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE DESTROYER. 
 
 It was the evening immediately following that 
 detailed in our last chapter, when the man, 
 formerly introduced to the reader as Adderly, 
 entered his abode in one of the worst neigh- 
 bourhoods that Paris, the beautiful, but the 
 profligate, contains: 
 
 We have no intention to detail the scene 
 that met him upon his arrival. To other 
 pages we leave the revolting task of tracking 
 guilt to its den, crime to the lair where, trem- 
 bling and triumphing by turns, it awaits the
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 217 
 
 retribution which never fails to reach it ; of 
 drawing aside the veil which conceals the mad 
 orgies of vice, miscalled pleasure, purchased 
 by the terrible sacrifice, not only of all earthly 
 hope, but of that which is to come. Suffice it, 
 that the place was the haunt of all that was 
 evil and repulsive; that night after night, the 
 same scenes went on without variation, be- 
 yond that of still deeper iniquity and abandon- 
 ment ; only that, ever and anon, a member of 
 the dreaded body, "the police," entered, 
 calmly picked out a man from the throng — 
 sometimes a second, a third — and bore him, 
 sullen or stupefied, at the realization of what 
 had haunted him in his dreams for years, to 
 the punishment he had so justly merited. 
 
 The always unpleasing face of Adderly was 
 even more so than usual, on this particular 
 evening. A heavy frown contracted his 
 shaggy eyebrows, his lips were close set, and 
 he held the bludgeon, hi*s constant companion 
 in all the excursions partaking of what he 
 called a "business character," firmly in his 
 hand. 
 
 A bold, gaily-dressed woman, who sat at a
 
 218 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 ^^ buffet " covered with flasks and glasses, at 
 the further end of the apartment, greeted him 
 with a smile and a significant nod as he came 
 in, and, after a few words exchanged with the 
 noisy throng of drinkers, he came towards 
 her, and drained a draught which she had, 
 without any commands, placed in readiness 
 for him. 
 
 " I want a few words with you, Maggie," he 
 said in English, and his voice sounded a trifle 
 less gruffly as he addressed her. ^^ Look, here 
 is a letter." 
 
 " For me — for me ! " she exclaimed, clasp- 
 ing her hands eagerly, as the whole expression 
 of her face altered — ^^ From home I " and at 
 that dear name her eyes filled with tears — 
 " Oh ! give it me ; " but, looking at Adderly, 
 the hope died out — the sweet thoughts which 
 had been conjured up, even in that lost soul, 
 by the vision of England and innocence, 
 melted away, and nothing but the heavy 
 fumes of tobacco, and the chorus of drunken 
 voices, were again present to her senses. 
 
 "Don't be a fool," was the reply of the man, 
 as she drew back her extended hand, and she
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 219 
 
 answered him by a burst of rough, unwomanly- 
 laughter at her own discomfiture. " For 
 you ! forsooth ! No, my lass, something a 
 sight deal less pleasant to you, as well as to 
 me. I shall be out all night, Mag, and no 
 mistake. Little enough booty, a few saints' 
 relics stowed away in glass cases ; some old 
 cassocks and threadbare hose^ — in the last, 
 perhaps, a trifle of silver hidden, just to pay 
 me and the fellows for the drink we'll want ; 
 but nothing, Mag, for the risk we run. A 
 murder, forsooth ! Malvoisin — may the foul 
 fiend seize him ! Malvoisin don't think of 
 that ! " 
 
 "And what's your quarrel with ^Gentle- 
 man Jacques ? ' " interrogated the woman, 
 turning her bold bright eyes upon her com- 
 panion. "You were fast friends, hand 
 and glove, last time ye were together." 
 
 " Yes ! such friendship's like to last ! " 
 muttered the other between his closed teeth ; 
 "friendship between me and the Captain? 
 Ha! ha!" 
 
 The woman gave a coquettish shrug of the 
 shoulders, which Adderley seemed imme-
 
 220 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 diately to notice; but she did not gainsay 
 this proposition. 
 
 "No, you jade !" he said with an oath ; "it 
 ain't that that makes me fall out with him. 
 The man's off, gone to America, and by the 
 time he comes back again, you and I may 
 have parted company. He may praise your 
 black eyes, and chuck you under the chin, 
 for all I care then. No ! it ain't that." 
 
 "Well, what is it then?" was the reply, as, 
 apparently afraid to annoy her companion 
 further, she pushed towards him another 
 bumper. 
 
 "Why, this," said Adderly, upon whose 
 temper the draught seemed to produce a 
 most salutary effect, steadying his frame and 
 calming his excited manner. " You re- 
 member the night I brought you that ring — 
 by the bye, you are a simpleton to wear it 
 so openly. I came honestly enough by it, 
 but some might give ye an awkward blow 
 for the sake of the diamonds — well, that 
 same evening, ^lalvoisin paid me a matter of 
 a few Napoleons — but a trumpery share — for 
 work I'd done for him the very night before."
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 221 
 
 '^ r remember," nodded Maggie ; " all 
 that business about the poor girl, his niece. 
 A villain ! " 
 
 " Oh ! you can call him a villain now, can 
 you ? There was a trifle of silver, so I put 
 by the gold pieces in this leathern purse. 
 To-night I happened to look at them for the 
 first time." 
 
 '' What, you wanted to spend them ; you 
 thought to go larking about, like a prince, 
 while I was slaving here, did you ? " The 
 woman's hands involuntarily extended to 
 clutch the purse, but Adderly pushed her, 
 with an imprecation, aside. 
 
 " Hang you ! All but one, which I have 
 safe elsewhere, you or anybody might have. 
 They are bad — bad, every one ; all counter- 
 feits ; the crafty, hypocritical scoundrel ! " 
 
 "I expected so ! Why did you trust him ? 
 You ought to have looked at once. Ha ! ha ! 
 who'd think of putting faith in Kuse 
 Malvoisin?" 
 
 " Mille tonnerres ! what a name ! The 
 devil set his mark upon him every way, name 
 and all, I think!"
 
 222 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 " It was a villainous trick. ' Honour among 
 thieves/ they say in England. IVe never 
 seen much — but this beats all." 
 
 ^' Well, leave me alone to square with him ! 
 I'll pay him out yet. And this brings me to 
 what I wanted to talk to you about. Listen : 
 this letter" — lowering his voice — ^'was given 
 me but an hour since. The ship he started in 
 has just sailed, and here are his last injunctions. 
 They relate to a priest, a certain old cure who 
 dwells somewhere near the Cathedral. The 
 poor old soul had done him some bad turn, 
 and now he is to be ^ provided for.' See ! the 
 instructions are stringent. Malvoisin gives 
 his orders ^ en prince.' " 
 
 Maggie read the letter, and as she did so 
 her eyes flashed, and her full red lips became 
 firmly compressed together. 
 
 *^ Do you dare to disobey him ? " she asked 
 at last. 
 
 Adderly shook his head — ^^ Dare ! — No ! 
 certain ruin to us would be the result. Mal- 
 voisin, curse him ! has us all too completely 
 in the toils." 
 
 " What does he want with this man's life,
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 223 
 
 do you think, Lionel ? You must surely have 
 heard him say what reason he had for his 
 hatred; this terrible hatred which will be satis- 
 fied by nothing short of blood." 
 
 '^ Well! now, that's the very thing I have been 
 puzzling my brains about. I have a clue, I 
 think; but one thing's certain — die he must 
 — so it's no great use talking about it." 
 
 " Nay, nay ! tell me all you know. See> 
 Black Jem, yonder, is looking and listening — 
 come, be quick — whisper — draw nearer — that's 
 it; — now tell me what you suspect — how 
 much do you know ? " 
 
 For five minutes Adderly and his com- 
 panion conversed together in so low a voice, 
 that no syllable could be overheard. At the 
 end of that time the former rose, and again 
 swallowing a brimming glass which she filled 
 him, he beckoned to the man called Black 
 Jem and another fellow of equally evil appear- 
 ance, and quietly quitted the room. Maggie 
 followed, with downcast head, and no symptom 
 of her former bold and violent demeanour. 
 They spoke together for a while in the 
 passage, and she let them out into the 
 street, with a heavy sigh.
 
 224 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 Adderly carried a couple of pistols, a dark 
 lantern, and a bundle. His two companions 
 were somewhat similarlj^ equipped, and the 
 formidable bludgeon, before-named, was for 
 once borne over the shoulder of Black Jem, 
 whose figure, as he stalked along, looked 
 gigantic in the moonlight. The other man, 
 known by the sobriquet of *'Le Yaneau," the 
 Lapwing, was considerably shorter, and so 
 lithe and slender in figure, that he reminded 
 you, wrapped in his loose-fitting garments, of 
 an eel in a great coat. 
 
 The three men pursued their way in silence, 
 and with considerable show of caution. The 
 moon, though occasionally visible, was ever 
 and anon shadowed by heavy clouds ; and be- 
 fore they reached the neighbourhood of Notre 
 Dame, a few large drops of rain fell, appa- 
 rently to the great delight of Adderly, who 
 grunted a syllable or two of gratulation as he 
 felt them glance from the leathern front of his 
 cap. At length, the dim outlines of the ca- 
 thedral appeared in front of the party. The 
 three companions now divided, and ap- 
 proached by separate routes a little irregularly-
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 225 
 
 built tenement near to the edifice, and on the 
 same side the Seine, in one of the small streets 
 abounding in that neighbourhood. 
 
 The lower part of this dwelling, which, like 
 most French houses, was divided into an " en- 
 tresol '^ and two or three ''etages" above, one 
 could easily see was devoted to some public or 
 scholastic purpose. A dim light between the 
 shutters, which were dilapidated and apart in 
 places, showed a long room, down the centre 
 of which ran a narrow deal table, furnished 
 with a few writing and reading slopes, whilst 
 around was ranged a collection of benches of 
 darker and dingier hue. 
 
 Adderly noted, with a hasty glance, the de- 
 tails of this chamber, and then, looking around 
 to be assured he was secure, gave a low 
 whistle, which speedily brought his compa- 
 nions to his side. 
 
 ^^ Lambert is not returned," said he, in a 
 whisper, as they reached him. " There is mid- 
 night mass in the cathedral, and he is still 
 there ; we must wait." 
 
 Black Jem growled out something about 
 delay and the cold. " How is it to be got 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 at?'' he asked, looking up at the house — 
 " where's the road to the back ? — nothing's to 
 be done here for the next hour, I suppose. 
 Come round and see how the land lies." 
 
 " Hist I — stop ! " Adderly returned, and 
 as he spoke, he looked up and pointed to the 
 entresol, one window of which was partially 
 opened by means of a single pane, which 
 moved backwards and forwards upon hinges. 
 
 Black Jem now placed himself beneath the 
 spot indicated, and ^^ Le Vaneau," having 
 laid aside his great-coat, mounted with cat-like 
 stealthiness upon the shoulders of his more 
 stalwart colleague. Little more than a 
 minute elapsed, and the slender form of the 
 younger robber had disappeared through the 
 frame, scarcely large enough, as it appeared, 
 to admit a child, and was seen looking from 
 the aperture at his companions. 
 
 This manoeuvre effected, Adderley's next 
 proceeding was to despatch his remaining 
 comrade to a neighbouring ^^estaminet'' for 
 more liquor; but he contented himself the 
 while with draining the remains of a flask he 
 carried in his side-pocket. Quietly he walked
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 227 
 
 backwards and forwards for nearly half an 
 hour, his cap drawn over his eyes, and his 
 hands plunged in the recesses of his thick 
 riding-cloak. What the thoughts of the un- 
 happy man were, it is impossible to conjecture; 
 but certain it is, no remorse, no horror at the 
 life he was leading, or the dreadful deed he 
 was about to commit, found their way into his 
 mind. He muttered impatiently, two or three 
 times, and it was evident, so completely was 
 his heart (if heart he could be said to possess) 
 absorbed in his calling, that he was only too 
 anxious to be at work, and employed upon his 
 murderous errand. 
 
 Presently, and just as his patience was 
 wearing out, footsteps were heard coming 
 along the street. Advancing to the corner, 
 he saw that the lights in the cathedral were 
 extinguished, and knew that the service was 
 over. His victim would soon arrive. 
 
 Black Jem, despite his potations, had also 
 kept an eye upon this important fact, and 
 came up just as Adderly was beginning to 
 growl out curses upon him for his delay. 
 They had barely stationed themselves in the 
 
 q2
 
 228 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 shadow of the neighbouring building, before 
 the object of Ruse Malvoisin's anger or dread 
 appeared. 
 
 Lambert — ^^le bon pere Lambert," — as he 
 was usually denominated, was a man advanced 
 in years. His step was very feeble, more 
 from infirmity than age ; his body was bowed, 
 and the long silver hair and beard hung 
 round his countenance, like snow-flakes and 
 frost-wreaths upon a withered oak. Trouble 
 had been busy with the old cure — that any 
 one could see from a single glance at his 
 features ; even now the good man's heart was 
 aching with the ingratitude and treachery of 
 the little flock he had sacrificed time and 
 money to aid and to enlighten. Voices around 
 whispered that he had dared to think for him- 
 self; had admitted the seeds of questioning 
 into his soul, where, in the silent hours of 
 solitude, he nourished them. The lessons he 
 gave became less dogmatical in their nature, 
 more simply moral, and breathed, as if in fear 
 of trenching upon doubts he dared not agitate, 
 the spirit only of universal philanthropy and 
 love. He was reported to head-quarters.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 229 
 
 Beside Lambert there walked a strange, 
 wild-looking creature, half boy, half man, who 
 was the sole companion and body-servant of 
 the poor priest. He possessed the most 
 angular figure it was possible to imagine, from 
 the very lines of the countenance to every 
 attitude into which the limbs involuntarily 
 forced themselves. Although the face of this 
 lad possessed not a single good feature, and 
 imbecility was generally depicted on it — gleams 
 of intelligence, and the fullest exemplification 
 of reverence and admiration, sometimes most 
 drolly expressed, shone there whenever he 
 addressed his master. The poor boy was 
 all in all to the good father — child, play- 
 thing, companion, and servant ; indeed the 
 old priest felt more attachment for the 
 orphaned cast-away than for any other things 
 since it seemed to him that this was the only 
 creature in the world that actually loved him. 
 
 Five or six young students, who resided in 
 the same house with Lambert, followed him? 
 and the party stopped at the cure's door, which 
 was immediately, upon the summons of the boy? 
 opened by an elderly housekeeper.
 
 230 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 Slowly and falteringly the old man entered 
 the house, his servant supportmg him with the 
 tender solicitude with which one would aid the 
 first steps of a babe. The young students 
 followed ; Lambert's cheerful good-night could 
 be heard, as they sought their respective 
 chambers: two dormitories receiving the pupils, 
 and the old man and the servant respectively 
 occupying chambers adjoining, upon one of the 
 upper floors. The rooms might have been 
 heard softly closing, one by one, the front door 
 was barred and locked, and soon the house 
 became profoundly still. 
 
 Not immediately did Adderly and Black Jem 
 emerge from their concealment, and stationing 
 themselves against the doorway, bend down, 
 and listen intently at keyhole and crevice for 
 the faint rustle of sounds within. To a very 
 quick ear a sharp click might have become au- 
 dible, and Adderly and his companion ex- 
 changed significant nods. In less time than it 
 took to disencumber themselves of their 
 heavier apparel, to gather up the articles they 
 needed in their terrible expedition, to examine 
 the pistols, and unloose their boots in readiness
 
 EAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 231 
 
 to take them off, the bolts of the door were 
 gently withdrawn, the chains so softly let go 
 that a lady's bracelet falling to the ground 
 would have made more noise, and the door 
 opening very slightly, revealed the agile figure 
 of ^^Le Yaneau " in an attitude intimating cau- 
 tion. 
 
 " Hush ! tread softly ! The old man sleeps 
 soundly, and our business is ready done to our 
 hands. Morbleu ! how the servant snores — 
 I have him snugly locked in the little cabinet 
 adjoining his master's room — he'll never hear 
 the ghost of a sound until all is over. Hein, 
 such a joke. I have set on the table a bottle 
 of wine such as you'll not everyday get, kept 
 by that " gamin " for the particular drinking 
 of the old thief. I got all the keys, they 
 were laid on the table by his bedside. Come 
 — for the last half hour I have been under his 
 bed. Ciel ! what a bundle of prayers the 
 worthy priest tumbled out ! " 
 
 The three companions ascended the stairs 
 together, and stopped at the entresol for a 
 moment to partake of ^^ Le Vaneau's " vaunted 
 cheer. Then Adderly and Black Jem followed
 
 232 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 the latter to the door of the old man's chamber, 
 which had been left purposely ajar by the 
 younger thief. 
 
 They paused here. Adderly opened wide 
 the door, and for a moment his companions 
 caught sight of the figure of the old priest, 
 who lay, his long white hair streaming over 
 the pillow, in a placid slumber. 
 
 " Descend !'' said the murderer, in a 
 tone of authority. He had no mind for wit- 
 nesses who might claim rewards for their 
 secrecy, or share the credit of a deed for which 
 Malvoisin should reward him alone. His com- 
 panions grumblingly obeyed. ^^ Be ready if you 
 hear the slightest noise, and in the mean time 
 watch at the boys' doors below," were his par- 
 ting words. 
 
 As Adderley turned to enter the fatal room, 
 the gleam of a sharp blade might have been 
 seen to flash in the light of his half-masked 
 lantern. Closing the door noiselessly, he dis- 
 appeared within the chamber, and again silence, 
 horrible and deathlike, reigned, like the 
 presence of an evil spirit, over the house.
 
 233 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BETRAYALS. 
 
 Poor Darnley Sheffield! — What an agitating 
 journey to Paris that was ! — how dreary seemed 
 each mile — how bitterly did you deplore your 
 own vacillation and want of sincerity in having 
 brought matters to their present state ! Better, 
 a thousand times better, have written, have 
 even taken Estelle straight with you to Eng- 
 land, in the first instance, than have excited 
 doubts and fears, which formed so ill a prepa- 
 ration for the discovery that must needs be 
 made !
 
 234 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 As the distracted young man, however, 
 neared his destination, his feelings underwent 
 a complete change. With every mile inter- 
 vening between himself and Wentworth Manor, 
 his excited mind grew calmer; every half- 
 hour which brought him nearer to Estelle 
 poured renewed hope and comfort into his 
 heart. It had been their first separation ; and 
 Darnley, far more a lover still than a husband, 
 inwardly determined it should be the last. 
 Accustomed to lean upon some other mind 
 for support, to detail every feeling, and draw 
 arguments, not from his own opinions, but 
 from those of others, Estelle had early be- 
 come, not only the beloved of the young 
 Englishman's heart, but its constant, and 
 seldom erring, guide in every matter of 
 danger or difficulty. Not until after con- 
 siderable discussion, had she fallen into his 
 plan of going first to England, and breaking 
 the matter to his parents. She feared he 
 was unequal to such a task, and she longed 
 to go and personally aid him with a power 
 she felt would be, to the last degree, impor- 
 tant, if her estimate of his character were
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 235 
 
 correct. But Estelle was very young, so 
 young indeed, that it was sad to see her 
 called upon to exert capacities which should 
 have been peacefully slumbering, with closed 
 curtains, at that early hour of life's morning. 
 She fell into Darnley's views, because she 
 loved him with all her ardent little soul, but 
 she had been fully alive to the mischief of a 
 clandestine marriage ; and. Frenchwoman as 
 she was, deplored, with innate rectitude of 
 purpose, the mystery which Darnley's weak- 
 ness threw around their union, and which 
 rendered it every day a more difficult matter 
 to disentangle the ravelled skein of deceit and 
 equivocation. 
 
 And now, perhaps, it will be as well to give 
 the reader some slight insight into the cir- 
 cumstances of Darnley's first acquaintance 
 with Estelle, which, as he has gathered 
 already from a remark of Mr. Cameron to 
 his quondam pupil, at an earlier stage of our 
 story, took place at Baden-Baden, something 
 like a twelvemonth before. 
 
 It was a bright evening, and the stars 
 outside the Conversation House seemed to vie
 
 236 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 with the brilliant chandeliers within. The 
 music came wafted in breaking gushes through 
 those stately apartments, and dozens of fair 
 women passed in and out of gambling-room 
 and ball-room, appearing houris of loveliness, 
 when aided by the entrancing light and the 
 ravishing melody. 
 
 Cameron and his charge wandered about, 
 lost in a labyrinth of pleasurable excitement. 
 They had only visited Baden for a day or two, 
 and this was their first sight of its principal 
 feature, but not to the gaming-tables, not to 
 the ball-room, with its sylph-like occupants, 
 not to the lighted colonnades, were the steps 
 of either of the young men led. They came 
 for a general idea, nothing more ; and although 
 Darnley was a mere boy, his tutor — himself 
 quite a young man — had no fear for either of 
 them in scenes like the present. 
 
 But their appearance had been noticed ; a 
 hasty summary of their capabilities for the 
 desired end made ; and as the pair were 
 listlessly gazing with regretful countenances 
 at the alternately maddened and paralyzed 
 expression of the players' faces, they were
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 237 
 
 accosted by a tall man, of extremely distin- 
 guished appearance, who seeing, as he said, 
 ^Hhat they were English, and strangers," 
 came up to proffer any information or assis- 
 tance which might be acceptable. 
 
 The politeness of this self-introduction would 
 have been suspicious, but the two young men 
 speedily forgot anything that appeared remark- 
 able in the very fascinating address which 
 their new friend possessed, and now exerted 
 for their benefit. He was considerably older 
 than either of them, and his manner partook of a 
 benevolent and protecting character, which 
 threw Darnley, at all events, completely off 
 his guard. They had not conversed five 
 minutes with the fine, handsome-looking indi- 
 vidual, whose polished conversation exactly 
 accorded with his peculiarly striking charac- 
 teristics, before he had constituted himself 
 cicerone for the nonce, and was doing the 
 honours of the •' Conversation House," as if 
 that had been his natural and favorite voca- 
 tion. 
 
 " You will surely try a trifling stake, if only 
 to say you have consulted the fickle goddess.
 
 238 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 in her most frequented temple," be said, smil- 
 ing, as they passed one of the baize-covered 
 tables, with their green shaded lights and 
 crowd of anxious countenances, later on in 
 the evening. But Cameron answered quickly, 
 for his companion as well as for himself, 
 ^^ They had no desire to play." 
 
 *^ In that case, let us return to the ball- 
 room, it is a good night ; there are several of 
 the noted belles of this neighbourhood there, 
 I believe. I thought you both looked as if 
 you would like to make use of the tickets you 
 hold, when we passed the open door just now." 
 And to the ball-room, accordingly, his com- 
 panions followed him. 
 
 " Shall I provide you with partners," was 
 the next inquiry. ''Look at these two beautiful 
 girls approaching us ; they are sisters, and 
 universally admired. Let me introduce 
 
 you?" 
 
 "Thank you, no. I think we had rather 
 look on." 
 
 They were standing near a flowery arch 
 that separated the ball-room from a satellite 
 antechamber. Close to it, a young girl, at-
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 239 
 
 tended by four or five men, all vying who could 
 most please, was resting listless and abstracted. 
 
 This girl attracted, simultaneously, the at- 
 tention of both the companions. It was not 
 only her beauty, but the touching air of in- 
 souciance and reverie upon so young and in- 
 tellectual a countenance, that interested and 
 puzzled them. But Darnley especially, 
 Darnley, hitherto excited and charmed with 
 everything around, had no longer eyes for any 
 other object. " How beautiful ! " he murmured, 
 " how innocent, yet how unhappy ! " 
 
 The stranger's glance followed those of the 
 two young men, with something of the expres- 
 sion with which an angler regards the bubbles 
 rising round his float. A peculiar smile — he 
 smiled often, too often, Cameron began to 
 think — played among the wrinkles of his 
 countenance, wrinkles only thus discoverable, 
 and his cold blue eyes sparkled and flashed, 
 until he was obliged to control their evidence 
 by a sharp contraction of the visage. 
 
 Again Darnley exclaimed, and this time 
 audibly, and Cameron joined in his admira- 
 tion : —
 
 240 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 " She is certainly very beautiful." 
 
 " If," said Darnley, encouraged by his 
 friend's words, "you knew any person who 
 could introduce me there ? " — he broke off 
 hurriedly, — " oh no ! that would be impossi- 
 ble." 
 
 "On the contrary," replied Malvoisin, 
 whom the reader has recognised long since, 
 " on the contrary, I shall be most happy to 
 make you acquainted with her ; she is my 
 niece." 
 
 Darnley and Estelle, seated together that 
 evening, chatted with the freedom of old ac- 
 quaintance. Frigid at first, the icy barriers 
 of reserve, and the indifference already engen- 
 dered by world-contact, in the youthful 
 heart of the girl, thawed before his animated 
 and candid words. She discerned in a mo- 
 ment the difference between the frank, unso- 
 phisticated nature of him who addressed her, 
 and the dull platitudes or careless brusquerie 
 of those amongst whom her lot had been cast. 
 Darnley was so refined, so deferential, and so 
 evidently earnest in all he said, that her 
 heart sprang to him instinctively.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 24 1 
 
 What wonder that the young Englishman 
 soon found himself a second time in the ball- 
 room, again awaiting Estelle's appearance with 
 an anxiety which had been growing with 
 every hour intervening since their meeting. 
 Cameron was detained at the hotel by important 
 tidings — letters upon the illness which finally 
 took him back to England altogether. He was 
 not there, and Darnley was his own master. 
 What was the young man^s grief, when hour 
 passed away after hour, and still the object of his 
 anticipation did not appear ! At length 
 he mustered courage to ask Malvoisin 
 respecting his niece's absence, and received 
 for reply that she did not intend to be 
 present. 
 
 Yet Darnley did not leav§/ the *^ Conversa- 
 tion House " until the night was far advanced ; 
 and when he did so, he arrived at home with 
 a purse considerably lighter, for Malvoisin had 
 persuaded him to play, and what could he re- 
 fuse to the uncle of her he loved — the uncle 
 of Estelle ? 
 
 So, night after night, Darnley went, 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 242 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 buoyed up with the hope of seeing her, which 
 sometimes was realised, sometimes frustrated. 
 Cameron, however, discovered his incipient 
 tendency to gambling, and nipped it in the 
 bud. So well, so reasonably, did he advise 
 and reason, that Darnley gave a free, un- 
 fettered promise never to play again. 
 
 The visit of Estelle to Baden was not alto- 
 gether one of pleasure, though scarcely 
 intended to prove as profitable in nature as 
 her uncle's. She gave, at his desire, read- 
 ings, principally dramatic, which were well 
 and numerously attended. It became soon 
 known to young Sheffield that Estelle was 
 intended, indeed, had been educated, for the 
 stage. 
 
 This information reached him just as 
 Darnley's feelings towards the beautiful star 
 of Baden-Baden had begun to assume an 
 actual and determined expression. He was 
 mortified to the last, and kept away from her 
 two whole days. The appearance and 
 address of both uncle and niece had given 
 him a very different idea ; but the mischief 
 was done. Darnley was hopelessly in love.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 243 
 
 Malvoisin had discovered, from the plentiful 
 provision of money he always carried about 
 him, that he was the very person for Estelle ; 
 and he determined the youth should not 
 escape the toils. It was nothing that she 
 loved him ; nothing that Malvoisin saw, with 
 savage fury, that her countenance, usually so 
 triste, so pre-occupied, broke into smiles, and 
 dimpled with blushes, when he appeared. 
 Had she hated him, it would have been the 
 same, though infinitely safer to poor Estelle 
 herself. When Cameron and Darnley left 
 Baden, the lovers were clandestinely engaged. 
 Malvoisin arranged the time and place for 
 their next meeting, but cautioned Darnley 
 not to betray the secret to his tutor, and met 
 with but too ready acquiescence. 
 
 Shortly after this, Cameron returned to 
 England, and Darnley, removed firom his 
 influence, fell at once into the system of 
 evil and duplicity pointed out by Malvoisin's 
 sophistry, and seconded unconsciously by all 
 the tenderness of Estelle. They met in 
 Paris. Malvoisin, at once recognizing the 
 honourable nature of his victim, made no 
 
 r2
 
 244 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 inquiries, obtained no information relative to 
 Darnley's condition and prospects in life, 
 beyond the cursory remarks dropped by the 
 young man himself. All he was anxious 
 for was that Darnley's self and fortune 
 should be, beyond recall, Estelle's, that is, 
 his own. Pere Lambert was hastily communi- 
 cated with, before Darnley had been many hours 
 in the French metropolis, and the young pair 
 became man and wife. 
 
 It would be difficult to explain, still less 
 to attempt justifying, the circumstance of 
 Darnley Sheffield's prolonged absence from 
 home, and the concealment of the union he 
 had contracted. From hour to hour, from 
 day to day, from week to week, the mistaken 
 young man put off detailing the step he had 
 taken to his parents, and when at length he 
 could no longer delay his return to England, 
 another reason existed for his anxiety as to 
 his reception. The period of his marriage 
 was attested by the birth of an infant, an heir 
 to the house of Sheffield. 
 
 For a long time the young couple, closely 
 attended by Malvoisin, had been travelling
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 245 
 
 from place to place, the better to '' cheat 
 those at home," Malvoisin reasoned, though 
 Darnley's letters had become so few and 
 hurried, acted upon, as his mind was, by the 
 prospect of return, that it did not greatly 
 matter where they had taken up their abode. 
 No suspicion, however, arose in the minds of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Sheffield. Darnley had been 
 so sincere, so open, so affectionate hitherto, 
 that doubt was unlikely, impossible. 
 
 During this interval, the young man's 
 resouixes were, of course, severely trenched 
 upon. Eemittance after remittance found its 
 way into Malvoisin's pocket. Estelle, repre- 
 sented by the villain as his only resource, had 
 been taken from him ; her talents, wonderful 
 according to the account given by the uncle, 
 were utterly useless to him now she was 
 married, and some indemnity was only just 
 and fair. At last a slight hesitation warned 
 Darnley that whatever his father might say, 
 the family man of business was clear-sighted 
 enough to marvel, possibly to complain. 
 The young husband, after first confiding his 
 fears to his beloved Estelle, commissioned
 
 246 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 Malvoisin to raise the sum he was, with 
 excusable cowardice, anxious to delay asking 
 for, in the proper quarter. Malvoisin^s 
 suspicions were aroused ; he began to make 
 inquiries. Estelle unintentionally increased 
 the mischief by an indisposition she evinced 
 to discuss her husband's conduct with a man 
 bound to her by blood, but by no other feel- 
 ing or sympathy. A diabolical idea crossed 
 the mind of the ruffian. He soon carried it 
 into effect. 
 
 Malvoisin, believing Darnley had deceived 
 him, and seeing that so far from delegating 
 to himself the management of her household 
 and her husband, Estelle grew daily more in- 
 dependent of his control, formerly absolute ; 
 maddened also by the tenderness she evinced 
 for her husband, but which never could have 
 been elicited in the smallest degree towards 
 himself, determined to make one last investiga- 
 tion. If his suspicions turned out just, he 
 would remove Estelle for ever from Darnley 
 Sheffield's influence, and annihilate all traces of 
 the marriage, the easier that, for his own pur- 
 poses, it had been solemnised after the Roman
 
 EAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 247 
 
 Catholic faith only. Then turning into money 
 every available article jointly possessed by the 
 pair, he would take Estelle to America, 
 where, he doubted not, the beautiful young 
 actress, whose powers were only daily de- 
 veloping, would, under an assumed name, 
 win laui^els which would be doubly and 
 trebly gilded. 
 
 How he carried out these intentions, 
 favoured by the co-operations of Adderley, 
 who followed young Sheffield to England, 
 where, at the most critical period, the latter 
 had gone to declare his marriage, at Estelle's 
 urgent request ; how the young mother was 
 torn from her infant, and even partially 
 driven to suspicion by the fearful revelations 
 of her unnatural guardian — have been already 
 detailed, in a measure ; the remainder, 
 together with Malvoisin's strongest and most 
 terrible motive for the cruelties he so ruth- 
 lessly practised, must be now followed out. 
 
 Unsuspicious of treachery, as unsuccessful 
 in the attempt he had made to declare his 
 secret, Darnley, his heart filled with emotions 
 of widely different natures, but all more or
 
 248 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 less partaking of the affection lie owed the 
 dear ones he was leaving, remorse at the 
 remembrance of his own duplicity, and fear at 
 the result of the revelation which must sooner 
 or later take place, beheld the towers and 
 trees of Paris rise before his jaded vision 
 with a feeling of relief, exquisite in propor- 
 tion to the agony of mind he had recently 
 experienced. 
 
 Here, at least, he should find rest. Here 
 his heart might, if but for a time, repose in 
 peace and confidence. Estelle's dear voice, 
 never yet raised in blame — however weak, 
 however faulty his conscience told him he had 
 been — should re- assure him ; Estelle's dear 
 smile should chase away anticipation and re- 
 gret ; Estelle's gentle advice point out the path 
 to happiness, which he was so terribly, so cul- 
 pably powerless to tread himself. And then 
 his infant ! the lovely cherub face which had 
 haunted him like the remembrance of a 
 beautiful dream, longed for, even ached for, 
 in deep heart-throbs ; again that face should 
 lie upon his bosom, that tiny form be cradled 
 in his arras, whilst Estelle, leaning passionately
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 249 
 
 over the pair, showered tearful-kisses of joy 
 upon father and child ! 
 
 Darnley's heart was beating wildly, his 
 eyes Avere suffused, aspirations of hope and 
 throbbings of gratitude were loudly pressing 
 for utterance. He had forgotten Wentworth 
 Manor, his mother's illness, Rosamond's 
 tender urgings with pleading face and tearful 
 eyes — all ! Estelle — Estelle and her child 
 were all he could think of, all he could 
 whisper wildly to his eager heart. 
 
 Thus arrived he at his own door. 
 
 The house occupied by Darnley Sheffield, 
 and situated in one of the best '^ quartiers " of 
 Paris, had been selected by Malvoisin, as 
 affording a second suite of apartments calcu- 
 lated for his own use, and closely adjoining. 
 This little retreat Darnley had prepared for 
 Estelle with all a lover's fondness, when they 
 became stationary in the metropolis, a few 
 months previously. Here he had brought 
 articles of taste, of luxury, and of " virtu," 
 the collected treasures of his foreign travel, 
 the tender outpourings of his generous nature 
 in gifts, rich and varied, to his young wife
 
 250 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 and her uncle. Here, too, their infant had 
 been born — Darnley's heart had first re- 
 sponded to the wild anguish of conjugal alarm 
 — had been agonized at the prospect of 
 eternally parting from the beloved angel of his 
 hearth, had thrilled to the sweet instincts of 
 paternity evoked by their child's first feeble 
 wail ! What wonder he loved the spot, 
 that the sight of the very street brought the 
 flush of hopeful anticipation into his cheek ! 
 What wonder that here, where every associa- 
 tion was sweet and pleasant, where the 
 very windows seemed to look down upon 
 him with a welcome in every pane, his eyes 
 sparkled, his form dilated, and he was again 
 the Darnley of old, instead of the fearful, 
 spiritless heir of the Sheffield name and 
 fortunes ! 
 
 ^^ Where is your mistress?" said the 
 young man, springing past the little French 
 maid, who stood chatting with the concierge 
 at the lodge window as he entered. He was 
 half-way upstairs before the surprised girl 
 could ejaculate her reply, and then he was too 
 far ofi* to hear a word she said. Darnley
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 251 
 
 went hurriedly on, three steps at a time, and 
 now his cheery voice was heard in agitated, 
 tender accents, as he ascended further and 
 further. 
 
 "Estelle! Estelle ! " 
 
 Up went Darnley, and up went the little 
 maid after him. He was trying to unfasten 
 the door of the salon, when she reached him, 
 with agitated hands, which seemed scarcely 
 able to perform the task. The girl advanced, 
 surprised and trembling. 
 
 '^ It is the lock, sir, the lock," she said, 
 in answer to his passionate gesture ; and 
 turning the key, as she spoke, the folding- 
 doors admitted them together. 
 
 The shutters were closed ! 
 
 *^ Good heavens ! " burst from Darnley 's 
 lips, '' what horrible mystery is this ? what 
 has happened ! " and as the girl threw wide 
 the casements, she saw his lips were as ashy as 
 his brow. 
 
 "Do you not know, sir? Is it possible 
 there has been any mistake ? " she faltered. 
 
 For all answer, Darnley rushed to the door 
 of the bedchamber, and violently burst it
 
 252 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 open. The blind was drawn down, the cur- 
 tains rolled up and pinned together ; an 
 empty toilet-table, littered with a few pins 
 and some ends of white thread, stood beneath 
 the window ; and turning to the bed, Darnley 
 perceived its delicate drapery of muslin had 
 been all removed, Estelle's fringed coverlid 
 of satin, her cambric- covered pillows, trimmed 
 with lace, were gone. 
 
 For a moment he could not believe it was 
 the same chamber ; every familiar object was 
 either absent or completely changed in cha- 
 racter. 
 
 He sat down, fell rather, into the nearest 
 chair. 
 
 "Tell me," he said, in strange and un- 
 natural accents, '^ they bury people soon in 
 France — tell me — I have strength to bear it 
 — is she dead ? — '' 
 
 The girl flew to the bell and rang it 
 frantically ; Darnley looked as if he were 
 going to faint. — "No, no! sir! indeed," she 
 cried as she seized a decanter of water, 
 and sprinkled a few drops upon his forehead. 
 "Madame will be here directly — Madame
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 253 
 
 Deschamps/' slie corrected herself, observing 
 the flush with which he heard her 
 words, "and she will explain every- 
 thing." 
 
 The landlady had already been informed of 
 Darnley's arrival ; scarcely had the bell 
 sounded before she was in the room. He had 
 in the meantime recovered himself a little, 
 and now awaited her with an attempt at com- 
 posure. 
 
 " Be so good, Madame Deschamps, to 
 explain — where is my wife? — where is my 
 child ? ''' 
 
 Madame Deschamps was a very jaunty 
 looking person, in the full bloom of the 
 charms of five-and-forty years. She entered 
 with an appearance of coolness, very little 
 suited to the style of address that greeted her, 
 and stopped, as she passed one of the mirrors, 
 to pin up a refractory curl, which had 
 escaped from beneath her lace cap. Darnley, 
 agitated as he was, could not fail to observe 
 the change in this woman's demeanour — she 
 who had formerly been so soignee, so respect- 
 ful ! What did it all portend ?
 
 254 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 Again, and more sternly, he repeated his 
 question. 
 
 " Monsieur Malvoisin and his niece had 
 both departed." 
 
 ^^Well, whither? That they were gone 
 was evident enough." 
 
 Madame Deschamps shrugged her round 
 shoulders. " It was impossible to say. 
 Neither Monsieur nor the young lady had 
 favoured her with their address. All she 
 knew was, they were gone, and the rooms 
 were let to some fresh people, who were 
 coming in to-morrow." 
 
 Madame, however, as she spoke, observed 
 Darnley's colour rise. She dreaded him, 
 though at that moment she felt no great in- 
 clination to oblige, by going out of her way, 
 a person she considered had deceived her. 
 ^^Lisette knew," she went on, *^that she 
 possessed no information whatever as to either 
 Monsieur or Mademoiselle." 
 
 "Mademoiselle?" Darnley's eyes shot fire. 
 
 " Be so good as to remember of whom we 
 are speaking — I am inquiring after Mrs. 
 Sheffield and my child ! "
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 255 
 
 " Oh ! yes," with a laugh, " Madame under- 
 stood that perfectly ; if it pleased Monsieur 
 to call the young lady his wife, it was no 
 business of hers. All she knew was, Madame 
 ()r Mademoiselle, ' comme il voudra,' was gone, 
 and the baby, the *joli petit babi,' with 
 her." 
 
 Slowly, and by degrees, Darnley, over- 
 powered by the sudden calamity which 
 had befallen him, unable to realize fully the 
 loss he had sustained, to believe even that 
 Estelle had left the house without affording 
 him the smallest clue to her destination, 
 Darnley disentangled the twisted thread of 
 Madame's revelations, and became aware of 
 all the circumstances which had taken place 
 since his departure. 
 
 The very day Monsieur Sheffield had left 
 Paris, Malvoisin and his niece had a quarrel, it 
 seemed — the voice of the former had risen 
 loudly, so loudly that Madame had herself as- 
 cended to enquire into the matter, had been 
 deterred by the violent tone in which he 
 spoke, and had heard the voice of Estelle, at 
 first indignant and passionate, sink into a
 
 256 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 paroxysm of tears. The door of the bedcham- 
 ber had then been hastily shut. Nurse had 
 been summoned to the baby, who, frightened at 
 the noise, had awakened, and Monsieur 
 Malvoisin, paler than usual, had descended 
 to the court-yard, where two persons, one 
 bearing a letter, awaited him. 
 
 These two persons Malvoisin detained dur- 
 ing the entire day. The three set to work 
 immediately to pack all the furniture and 
 valuables belonging to him, and they were 
 carried away within a very few hours. Madame 
 Deschamps, who had never exactly liked her 
 lodger, hoped he was going to leave the house 
 in consequence of the quarrel; but she had 
 no idea that anything unusual was taking 
 place in the salle belonging to the young 
 lady's apartments until the evening. 
 
 Malvoisin had then sent for her. The baby 
 and its nurse were quietly asleep in the bed- 
 chamber, Estelle having gone to the Theatre 
 Franqais with a friend, an engagement urged, 
 as Sheffield well remembered, by him, as a 
 means of distracting her mind from the pain 
 of absence, to see a new piece. Malvoisin
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 257 
 
 informed the landlady that he should leave 
 the next day, assured her that Sheffield was 
 a scoundrel, and that no marriage whatever 
 had taken place between him and his unfor- 
 tunate niece. " She was,'' he said, " fully 
 cognisant of her lover's perfidy, but as she 
 had a far better * parti ' in view, it had suited 
 her to accept from her English lover the gifts 
 and movables which had surrounded them." 
 This caused Madame to examine the apart- 
 ment, and she observed by the single taper 
 that Malvoisin carried, that not only every- 
 thing of value had been removed from the 
 salon, but even, during the slumbers of the 
 nurse, from the bedchambers also. 
 
 While they were yet speaking, Estelle had 
 returned; she was very pale, and seemed ill 
 and unhappy. The last time Madame saw 
 her, she was sitting, her infant in her arms, 
 beside the fire ; there had been an awful 
 storm, as Monsieur would doubtless remember, 
 but it had partially lulled at the time, and 
 Estelle had gone straight to the fire to dry 
 her slippers, which were wet. The baby was 
 crowing and laughing, she passionately em- 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 bracing it — the attendant unfastening the 
 lady's "beaux cheveux/' and taking from 
 thence the wreath of white hothouse roses, 
 that Monsieur remembered he had brought 
 her in the morning before his departure. 
 The baby held one in his hand. 
 
 That was the last she saw of them. Some 
 time in the night — when, she knew not, for 
 the concierge had been greatly to blame, and 
 could tell nothing of the matter — Monsieur 
 Malvoisin and his niece had disappeared. 
 The nurse was found in a heavy slumber in 
 'the morning ; having, as she insisted, received 
 an opiate in some beverage offered her by 
 the gentleman. 
 
 To this came the whole amount of Madame 
 Deschamps' recital. Long before she arrived 
 at the end, Darnley, assured that not only 
 he, but Estelle also, was the victim of 
 a plot, of what nature he could scarcely 
 determine, had been cogitating in his own 
 mind the plan he could pursue. " Go for the 
 police," he faltered at length ; "go, and lose 
 not a moment ! " and the really kind-hearted 
 woman went without another word.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 259 
 
 Then Darnley, turning the key of the 
 deserted bedroom, slowly endeavoured to 
 collect his thoughts, and plan some sort of sys- 
 tem for the future. He approached the bed ; 
 nothing there reminded him of Estelle, all 
 was so changed ; but as he pushed the fauteuil 
 beside it, and sank down, meaning to lay 
 bis throbbing temples upon the pillows, the 
 little bassinet came in sight, with its pink 
 and white drapery, and tiny soft mattresses 
 and coverlid, lying just as it had been left 
 that night, when hastily put out of the way. 
 
 Nothing hitherto had brought home fully 
 the terrible reality to Darnley's mind, it was 
 reserved for this little incident. It unlocked 
 the flood-gates of the father's heart, and for a 
 long hour Darnley's sobs broke the stillness of 
 the desolate room. 
 
 S2
 
 260 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 A FEW HOURS WITH THE POLICE. 
 
 Aided by the efforts of a police force, no- 
 toriously unrivalled, Darnley flew from street 
 to street, visited successively every house 
 whither Malvoisin had at any period led him, 
 and sought even the theatres, and other places 
 of amusement or play, which had formerly 
 been haunts of the uncle of his wife. Scarcely 
 considered heretofore, he now, in the terrible 
 catastrophe which had fallen upon him, began 
 to regard as so many snares spread for his fall 
 the really dangerous resorts of the wily
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 261 
 
 Frenchman. Conduct and companions hitherto 
 to all appearance harmless assumed a very 
 different complexion, and at every fresh 
 inquiry, darker and graver grew doubt, lower 
 fell the hope within him, from the circumstances 
 attending each unsuccessful result. 
 
 When Darnley indeed observed, as he could 
 scarcely fail to do, even in the extremity 
 of his grief, the significant glances exchanged 
 between the indifferent and imperturbable 
 officials who conducted the search ; when he 
 noted the question asked, and felt the indig- 
 nant reply rising to his lips for the honour of 
 Estelle's uncle, checked by answers proving, 
 alas ! too conclusively, the propriety and 
 appositeness of the remarks, his heart seemed 
 to drop like a leaden weight in his bosom ; his 
 brain swam ; and he more than once grew so 
 ashy white, that assistance and restoratives 
 were eagerly proffered by those around. 
 
 Not that, for a single second, the faint shadow 
 of doubt crossed his mind, of her. No ! she 
 was, like himself, a mere victim, an innocent 
 victim of some diabolical scheme, whose 
 nature no thought, no endeavour, could
 
 262 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 fathom ; but of which the black result was 
 only to be gleaned under a veil of mystery and 
 horror. They were separated — both had been 
 equally duped, betrayed ! But how bitterly did 
 he accuse himself! How short-sighted he felt 
 he had been, when, at every moment, some 
 new condemnatory word and action flashed 
 upon his recollection, some strange anomalous 
 discrepancy, some speech, virtually negatived 
 by simultaneous action which he now too well 
 remembered, had grated painfully on his mind 
 at the moment, and then, weak, thoughtless 
 idiot that he had been ! was forgotten — left 
 for ever unexplained, unquestioned — in the 
 happiness of that draught of love, he had so 
 absorbingly drained. 
 
 It was indeed utterly impossible to guess 
 Malvoisin's motive for the outrage he had 
 committed. Always conscious of a degree of 
 uneasiness when in his company ; aware, even 
 when most fascinated by his address, that some- 
 thing of the feeling with which the bird of the 
 tropics watches the sinuous evolutions of the 
 rattlesnake, lurked in his own mind, Darnley 
 had always shrunk from confidence with
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 263 
 
 Malvoisin, and, incapable of hypocrisy, had 
 done so, despite his utmost endeavour, in 
 a manner which .the crafty object of his 
 unacknowledged dread could not fail to 
 observe and resent. He had told no more 
 of his parentage, enlarged no further upon 
 connection and position, than was essential 
 to secure for him the hand of her he sought. 
 And often, when abruptly stopping in some 
 frank speech, or ignoring, with instinctive 
 coldness, some assumption of the right to 
 question, of the quality Malvoisin was for ever 
 arrogating, Darnley disposed never to concede, 
 the latter had seen, with an emotion of 
 horror, the flashing scrutiny of those cold 
 keen eyes deepen into an expression so 
 revengeful, so malignant, that no insolent 
 attempt at recovered bonhomie and friend- 
 liness, had power to dissipate the cloud he 
 knew had gathered on his brow. He now 
 remembered, too, many a gentle caress from 
 his young wife checked by a glance from her 
 uncle ; many a gushing avowal quenched 
 suddenly upon her lips by some covert 
 sarcasm or open jest. She had always feared
 
 264 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 him, that was evident enough ; if there were 
 a sealed subject between them, it was that 
 of her uncle ; and Darnley had been so 
 absorbed in contemplation of herself, and 
 in cogitation as to the period when he 
 should declare his marriage at Wentworth, 
 that he had contented himself with enfolding 
 her in the strong embrace of his young 
 marital protection, whenever jarring elements 
 arose between relatives in truth strangely 
 dissimilar. 
 
 One evening in particular, during that 
 brief sweet summer, he recalled; terribly 
 conclusive did its occurrences now seem of 
 Malvoisin's hidden enmity to himself, if not 
 to her. They had been alone. The evil 
 influence had, for a few days, been removed. 
 Nothing but sunshine fell upon the little 
 country paradise where they sat; Estelle re- 
 clining upon his arm, beneath the shadow of a 
 rustic porch, wreathed with honeysuckle and 
 wild roses. He was speaking of home, of his 
 mother ; he recalled her devotion, her tender- 
 ness, her fragile health, and Estelle was listen- 
 ing with absorbed interest ; asking free, nay
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 265 
 
 childish, questions about the house, the garden, 
 the rooms, even the very playthings he had 
 loved when a boy. 
 
 Gradually, and as the shadows came on, 
 their confidence had deepened ; their talk had 
 grown serious and tender ; he began to tell 
 her frankly of his doubts, his misgivings, to 
 seek her advice as to the delicate task before 
 them both, of attempting to justify a marriage 
 the clandestine circumstances of which they 
 now regretted. Darnley well knew the 
 nature of his mother. He was assured of the 
 projects she had formed, since his earliest 
 years, to ally himself and Eosamond with the 
 noblest houses in their native land. He 
 thought with a pang how her hope, ever 
 restless, constantly fed by unremitting desire* 
 and nourished by the bitter showers wrung 
 from her heart by the world's real or fancied 
 neglect, would be blasted, her hope to efface 
 the stain of trade, the ignominy of her 
 alliance, and her offspring's parentage, by the 
 graft of aristocratic connection and descent 
 upon the merchant stem of Shefiield. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! " he had exclaimed, " what
 
 266 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 if the disappointment should kill her ? if I 
 should destroy my mother ?" 
 
 And then Estelle, though only half aware of 
 the importance of his forebodings, had essayed 
 to comfort, to sustain him. She had slid 
 from his embrace, and kneeling fondly at 
 his feet, her arms entwined about him, her 
 heart pressed against his, her sweet, tender 
 face upraised, and a single star, which had 
 come unnoticed out above, finding reflection 
 in those pure deep eyes, she had spoken of 
 hope, of love, of the force of that maternal 
 tenderness which she argued her husband's 
 mother had ever, and would still exemplify, 
 towards her favourite child ; and the yearnings 
 of which — ah ! poor Estelle ! — were even 
 then finding utterance within her own young 
 being, heralding, alas ! a long and childless 
 existence ! 
 
 " A mother's love — a mother's love ! Oh ! 
 Darnley — Oh! my husband. Believe it not 
 that aught can come between her and you, her 
 firstborn, her only son ! And when she sees 
 my heart — when she knows how her darling 
 is loved — is worshipped — "
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 267 
 
 Estelle stopped abruptly ; her accents failed, 
 her cheeks assumed a livid hue ; she rose 
 hastily from her knees, trembling as a blade 
 of feathery grass might quiver before the 
 approaching tempest. Looking up in surprise, 
 Darnley perceived that Malvoisin had returned 
 unannounced, and stood leaning against the 
 doorway, with a gleam of such diabolical envy, 
 such fiendish scorn, that Darnley involuntarily 
 drew back a pace, and folded the shrinking 
 form of his wife within a defiant clasp. 
 
 Neither recovered themselves for a few 
 seconds ; even Malvoisin's ready wit moment- 
 arily forsook him. Not all that evening did 
 the young bridegroom become reassured ; and 
 he remembered he had cautioned Estelle, 
 before she wept herself to sleep upon 
 his bosom that night, not to betray the name, 
 the post-town, of his father's residence ; so 
 settled was the conviction upon both their 
 minds that if the hand of her uncle was the 
 one to transmit the tidings of their marriage 
 first to England, it would deal a still heavier 
 blow to the hopes of Wentworth than if com- 
 municated by any other person.
 
 268 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 Cfowding upon his recollection came these 
 circumstances ; stronger every instant grew 
 his fears, as worn with fatigue, and maddened 
 into desperation, poor Darnley accompanied 
 the police agents in their unavailing search. 
 Time went too swiftly by in such an occupa- 
 tion ; at least, though the minutes might seem 
 weary enough, carrying with them a lifetime 
 of grief and anxiety, the amount of business 
 accomplished was trifling to the last degree. 
 Night closed in, and lights glanced everywhere, 
 the distances to be traversed between each de- 
 sired spot were no longer lightened by a word ; 
 Darnley's parched lips refused utterance ; his 
 eyes, at first so restless, seeming, as it were, 
 to seek with wild scrutiny for the countenance 
 of Estelle in every group of passers-by, now 
 gazed listlessly on vacancy. The stern ofl&cials, 
 relaxing into something like feeling, attempted 
 to renew the hope, which they saw was dying 
 out, by fresh plans of search and investiga- 
 tion. 
 
 It was impossible, they urged, that Malvoisin 
 and his niece had left Paris without their 
 being able to arrive at the "how" and the
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 269 
 
 " when." First there were the passports ; 
 then the mode by which exit had been accom- 
 plished. Other means they knew, which only 
 were alluded to in mysterious whispers ; and 
 at length, when the night was far advanced, 
 and Darnley, completely worn out, was almost 
 powerless to resist, they persuaded him to seek 
 something like repose, while measures were 
 adopted which could not be entered upon in 
 his company, and which they endeavoured to 
 convince him would ensure the detection he 
 desired. 
 
 Darnley, more dead than alive, saw them 
 leave him with the same feeling a condemned 
 mariner might experience in beholding from his 
 ocean-tossed raft, or desert island, the vessel 
 disappear, bearing his last hopes of rescue. 
 He was too weak to propose any plan, 
 to arrange any meeting ; but, after they had 
 gone, he sat mentally going over the chances 
 that existed, calculating the extreme import- 
 ance of every moment to his hopes, and forti- 
 fying himself, as far as might be, by energetic 
 determination and occasional bursts of fer- 
 vent prayer.
 
 270 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 But his thoughts speedily grew too terrible 
 for endurance. Again he summoned Madame 
 Deschamps, but nothing of a satisfactory 
 nature was gleaned from this second interview. 
 She had known so little of the plans of either 
 Malvoisin or the young pair, that even her 
 quick woman-wit could propose nothing in the 
 shape of a suggestion, or even explanation. 
 One thing increased Darnley's vexations to a 
 fearful degree, while, had they been less press- 
 ing, it might have failed to do more than ex- 
 cite scorn. This was the Frenchwoman's ap- 
 parently settled conviction, despite all, that 
 Estelle had never been actually married. A 
 belief so hateful, so insupportable to Darnley, 
 he attempted not to combat ; but it produced 
 a frightful impression upon his mind of the 
 pains his crafty enemy had taken to throw 
 doubt and entail mischief upon a union 
 Darnley too late perceived he had intended 
 should be only temporary. 
 
 By the time the most energetic of Darnley's 
 police agents had returned, bearing with him 
 two or three varying accounts of different per- 
 sons supposed to bear some resemblance to the
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 271 
 
 missing trio, the excitement and agony of his 
 jaded spiiit had taken one irresistible shape — 
 desire to put it for ever out of the power of the 
 meddling world to affect doubt of his marriage, 
 or throw a stigma upon the innocent child of 
 Estelle. He would go to Pere Lambert, the 
 priest who had married them, and whose ad- 
 dress he fortunately remembered ; procure 
 from him another certificate — Estelle had 
 possessed the original one, kept, as Darnley 
 well recollected, in a little sandal-wood casket 
 he had given her, in company with many 
 other precious things, faded bouquets, love- 
 letters, keepsakes of trifling worth, but all-im- 
 portant to her — and thus armed, defy malice 
 to insinuate aught against an affection, which, 
 even if destined — horrible contingency ! — to 
 be severed henceforth from its object, would, 
 he well knew, prove as eternal as it had from 
 the first been absorbing.
 
 272 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE DAWN OF DEATH. 
 
 The first inquiry made by the agents of the 
 law, when left to the systematic routine, 
 was after the driver of the fiacre which had 
 doubtless conveyed the fugitives from the 
 house of Madame Deschamps ; but here not 
 the slightest gleam of enlightenment met 
 them. Not a single Jehu of the box could be 
 found possessing the required knowledge ; 
 many, indeed, commenced by affording pro- 
 mising answers to the preliminary inquiries; 
 but it speedily became apparent that the per-
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 273 
 
 sons answered anything but the description 
 given of the party in question ; nor, except in 
 one case, where the woman had been old and 
 ugly — in fact, a ^^ bourgeoise " grandmamma, 
 going with her widowed son to the country, 
 and carrying his little squalling baby — had 
 any of them been accompanied by a child 
 answering the appearance and age of the in- 
 fant in question. It was evident that the re- 
 ward freely proffered by the police for infor- 
 mation, was either inadequate to some stronger 
 incentive to silence, or else that the 
 party had left Paris on foot ; unless, indeed, 
 which all were inclined to doubt, they were 
 concealed somewhere or other in the metro- 
 polis itself. 
 
 The barriers were next tried, but by neither 
 did it appear foot or carriage passengers, bear- 
 ing any resemblance to the desired character- 
 istics had passed out. A carriage, indeed, had 
 driven in one case upon the road to St. Denis 
 near the indicated time upon that very night, 
 but a gentleman, with extremely dark hair 
 and eyes — in face the exact opposite to Mal- 
 voisin — had been seated within ; nor did he 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 appear to be accompanied by any other 
 whatever, still less certainly a child, for both 
 windows were down, and the snow and sleet 
 blew freely through the vehicle. It was 
 ^^ wonderful how he could sit and bear it, but 
 then, to be sure, he was smoking." 
 
 Not so easily, however, were the keen 
 emissaries of Darnley's search to be deceived 
 or put off the scent. While redoubled energy 
 was shown to scour even the most unpromising 
 quarters of Paris in pursuing the investigation, 
 a messenger, in plain clothes, followed upon 
 the apparent route of the gentleman with the 
 sparkling eyes and black mustachios, and 
 tracked him to the very same little auberge in 
 the neighbourhood of St. Denis, where the in- 
 terview^ between Adderly and Malvoisin, re- 
 corded in the opening pages of our narrative, 
 had taken place. It was here seen that the 
 gentleman with the mustachios had a com- 
 panion, a lady, judged to be young, though 
 her face had not been seen during the few 
 hours she remained in the house, one of no 
 creditable notoriety — but the persons who 
 kept it were unable to say whether an infant
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 275 
 
 had accompanied the pair, though they con- 
 sidered it highly probable. Nothing had 
 been supplied for the lady in the shape of re- 
 freshment, they averred, though the gentle- 
 man had paid liberally. All they knew was, 
 that the same fiacre which had brought them, 
 returned and took them away the following 
 morning. That was all ! 
 
 Meanwhile Darnley, as soon as the shadows 
 had disappeared, and it was light enough to 
 go forth, had departed upon his mission to the 
 priest, which promised at all events to fill up, 
 by something like action, the fearful void he 
 now experienced, left for the first time to him- 
 self, without friend, sister, wife, any of the ad- 
 visers on whom he formerly leaned, and 
 finding each moment becoming more insuppor- 
 table. 
 
 Paris in a morning ; Paris before the 
 shops are opened and the sun has power, light- 
 ing up white building, and green tree, is not 
 the Paris we know and have read of Nothing 
 could be more dreary or comfortless than the 
 appearance of the streets, and Darnley had 
 not progressed above a few hundred yards, 
 
 T 2
 
 276 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 when the outward, and even in the midst of 
 his trouble, more impressionable senses of his 
 nature reacted upon his weakened '^ physique," 
 and he found it impossible to proceed. 
 Going into the first cafe he found open, he 
 called for a glass of brandy, and shivering as 
 if in an ague, sat down near the stove to 
 restore some degree of circulation to the cold 
 stream coursing his limbs. 
 
 For a considerable time he remained dreamily 
 reflecting, with a kind of mental stagnation 
 correspondent to that pervading his frame, 
 and taking out his pocket-book, wherein he 
 remembered to have written the exact date of 
 his marriage at the time it took place, he 
 read over and over the few agitated lines he 
 had penned in the fulness of his happiness and 
 pride immediately after, characteristic of the 
 event of the day. Estelle and he, it seemed, 
 had been equally struck by the appearance and 
 manner of the good priest. His bowed frame, 
 his long silver hair, the spiritual and benig- 
 nant expression of features, sharpened by grief, 
 and sublimated by resignation, had made a deep 
 impression upon their minds, and now it seemed
 
 EAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 277 
 
 strange that it had never before occurred 
 to him how sincere a friend, how efficient an 
 adviser, he might find in a person whose in- 
 terest in themselves had, even in the transi- 
 tory intercourse of his official duty, plainly 
 shown itself. He remembered with how 
 much of fatherly kindness the good priest 
 had reassured the trembling, but happy bride ; 
 how tenderly he had blessed the union ; nay, 
 Darnley even imagined that a gleam of 
 sympathetic distrust had crossed his features, as 
 his glance passed from the young pair to their 
 somewhat too demonstrative companion. 
 
 Darnley felt invigorated ; he rose hastily ; 
 a ray of sunshine peeped in at the dull win- 
 dows of the cafe, while a beam of hope illu- 
 mined his weary heart. He would go in- 
 stantly. 
 
 As he left the cafe, and pursued his way 
 calmed into something like strength and 
 energy, down one of the larger streets leading 
 towards his destination, he followed a slight 
 young figure, dressed in fresh but humble 
 mourning, whose gait was so slow, so wearied, 
 when everything about her indicated so much
 
 278 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 natural elasticity, that Darnley forgot his own 
 griefs in the momentary interest she inspired. 
 He quickened his pace, intending to pass her. 
 and obtain a glimpse of features he felt assured 
 were significant, and in keeping with the inno- 
 cence characterising the rounded limbs, the 
 waist so gracefully shaped, and small, elegant 
 head. 
 
 At the moment he did so, he was suddenly 
 spared the pains of endeavouring to prosecute 
 his scrutiny further ; for, having arrived at the 
 extremity of a footpath, skirting as it appeared 
 a large hospital, or institution of some kind, 
 she turned to retrace her steps, and met him 
 face to face. 
 
 For years afterwards the countenance of 
 that young girl haunted him; something, in- 
 deed, sent a thrill to his heart as he passed 
 her and her burden — for she carried an infant 
 in her arms — a strange, mysterious influence 
 which drew his eyes to hers, his steps nearer 
 that melancholy pair, nurse and child. One 
 sympathy, indeed, it was evident enough there 
 was between them, the sympathy of deep suf- 
 fering. That pale cheek, those haggard eyes,
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 279 
 
 told a tale easy of comprehension to Darnley. 
 Yet what an absorbing tenderness in the em- 
 brace with which she held her , unconscious 
 load to her breast ; what jealous care was evi- 
 dent in the covered cheek, the muffled frame ! 
 And a throb of envy passed through the young 
 man's heart. She, however great her suffer- 
 ing, whatever her loss, had at least something 
 to love, to cling to, that innocent, perhaps 
 beautiful child. 
 
 And where was Darnley ? 
 
 Brushing hastily by her, the drops gathering 
 in his eyes, the drapery of the humbly-dressed 
 infant almost touched him. Alas ! Darnley, 
 did no instinct of paternity discover to you, 
 in the tenderly cared-for protege of the Enfants 
 Trouves, borne forth by poor Marcelline for a 
 breath of air and gleam of sunshine the first 
 time since her trouble, the dear pledge of your 
 and the lost Estelle's affection ? — 
 
 No ! onward he passes ; hurriedly, abstract- 
 edly. Marcelline looks after him for a brief 
 interval, for his gaze had been so wildly des- 
 perate, that she feels all her rich, benevolent 
 nature brimming. He passes on, and soon the
 
 280 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 street is quitted; he turns out of sight into 
 another, and approaches with still rapidly in- 
 creasing strides his destination. 
 
 '^ Is it Pere Lambert who lives here ? " 
 
 " Yes. You have business with him ? " 
 
 '' Immediately. Inform him a gentle- 
 man — " 
 
 '^ Monsieur will perhaps kindly step in and 
 wait a few moments," said the housekeeper 
 who had opened the door. ^'The father is 
 not yet descended. Contrary to his usual 
 custom, neither himself nor his servant is 
 stirring, and the young gentlemen have break- 
 fasted alone." 
 
 Darnley came in. He was shown into a 
 scantily furnished apartment, with only one 
 book upon the table — a well-thumbed breviary. 
 He threw it passionately aside. 
 
 *^The father was fatigued last night, and 
 that idle lad of his is only too glad to rest," 
 went on the garrulous woman. *^ I was going 
 up to call him when Monsieur arrived." So 
 saying, she disappeared. 
 
 For want of better employment Darnley lis- 
 tened to her steps as she ascended the stair-
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 281 
 
 case, muttering all the time wonder at the 
 priest's unwonted laziness. He heard her try 
 a door, and then tap gently, listening for a 
 reply. Again she tapped, louder this time ; 
 presently louder still; and then there was a 
 scream, faint and tremulous, and Darnley, 
 already overstrung to the last degree, rushed 
 upstairs, guided by the noise, and found the 
 old woman clinging to the rail of the narrow 
 staircase, apparently incapable to move, even 
 to support herself 
 
 ^' The Holy Virgin preserve us ! something 
 is the matter; neither the priest nor the 
 servant answer, and yet the doors are 
 locked ! '' 
 
 With one vigorous push of his athletic arm, 
 Darnley — by this time joined by a couple of 
 the students who had. hastily run up from below 
 — burst the thin deal door, as it happened, of 
 the servant's room, the first, which was closely 
 contiguous to that of the priest. They entered 
 in a body, as if afraid to venture alone. 
 
 What was the surprise of the party to find 
 the room empty ! 
 
 The bed was disordered, the pillows dashed
 
 282 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 upon the floor ; it had been occupied, but its 
 tenant was gone ! 
 
 " The boy is with his master ! " said one of 
 the father's pupils, " and is too much an idiot 
 to reply; or probably the good priest sleeps 
 still after last night's fatigue." 
 
 " No, no ! '^ shrieked the woman ; ^^ all is 
 not right ; the key, the key is not inside ; it 
 has been locked from without. Oh ! Mother 
 of mercy ! my master, my poor master ! Force 
 the door — force the door.'' 
 
 They hurriedly obeyed. Slowly it yielded 
 — a chain within grated and fell — but nothing 
 beyond the lock obstructed their approach. 
 They stood within Pere Lambert's bedchamber. 
 
 The bed was placed within an alcove in front 
 of the door, but a curtain veiled it from sight. 
 Darnley, who felt himself as it were called 
 upon to assume a certain degree of authority, 
 went up to it, and drew the folds aside with a 
 gentle hand. 
 
 What met his view ? 
 
 This bed also was tenantless. The impress 
 of the old man's form was clearly distinguish- 
 able, and the clothes were slightly discom-
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 283 
 
 posed; but — fearful evidence of the terrible 
 deed which had been enacted ! — the pillows 
 where that white head had reposed were satu- 
 rated with a crimson stain — drops had fallen 
 on the coverlid — a larger, a darker stream 
 stained the white floor, and even now they 
 observed it too clearly tinged the door !
 
 284 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 SCHEMING. 
 
 The Earl of Bolsover and his daughter were 
 standing in the private sitting-room appro- 
 priated to the use of the former at Wentworth 
 Manor. 
 
 A conversation of some importance had 
 evidently just taken place. The young lady's 
 usually colourless face was slightly flushed, 
 her gaze sought the ground with a species of 
 shy pride, while her fingers twitched nervously 
 the links of the chain sustaining her eye-glass. 
 As for the Earl, his good-humoured, but not 
 the less astute, physiognomy wore a shade of
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 285 
 
 anxiety a little unusual in moments not devo- 
 ted to state affairs, and he occasionally left 
 his position on the hearth-rug, and walked 
 from end to end of the apartment. 
 
 "I am to take immediate steps then in this 
 matter ?'' 
 
 " If you please." 
 
 " Strange ! Really, Frances, you surprise 
 me. It struck me I had formed a tolerably 
 correct estimate of your disposition, your re- 
 quirements. I confess I thought you looked 
 higher than this." 
 
 " Did you ? Forgive me for putting a 
 somewhat unusual question. What fortune 
 am I likely to inherit ? " 
 
 The Earl's brow became for a moment 
 contracted. 
 
 " You know already well that you are an 
 heiress only in name ; I wish it were other- 
 wise. The fault has been scarcely mine, though 
 it was, perhaps, idle to suppose I should be 
 equally successful in money-making as in 
 diplomacy." 
 
 "Excuse me; more is needless. I merely wish 
 to know if my cousin De Yere, or any other de-
 
 286 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 scendant of the * Norman robber/ were an 
 eligible parti. I thought money was an 
 object, and here — glancing from the window 
 — every arrangement bespeaks the presence of 
 the aurific deity ; apart from the name, the 
 family possesses every thing that could be 
 desired in all its ramifications." 
 
 '' Aunt Kachel included ? " was the sly 
 rejoinder. 
 
 " Aunt Rachel I have never seen, but from 
 all Rosamond says of her, in her modest, 
 earnest manner, I fancy there can be little 
 disgrace — scarcely the soupqon of scanty re- 
 finement — even in that quarter." 
 
 "They are, at all events, liberal, cordial 
 folks," said the Earl, musingly; "how 
 delicately all has been conducted about that 
 unfortunate riding accident ; Lady Di Tilbury 
 is more than satisfied with the substitute 
 afforded for her valuable hunter, I heard by 
 the merest chance yesterday ; and then, accor- 
 ding to your account, young Sheffield's conduct 
 was little short of heroic, he actually saved 
 you from destruction, Fanny, I believe ?" 
 
 " Yes." That word was spoken in so low a
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 287 
 
 tone, that it failed to reach the EarFs ear. 
 He went on. 
 
 " The house seems in a strange commotion 
 this morning. I heard some story about 
 young Darnley Sheffield's return last night. 
 Is anything the matter? " 
 
 " I know not. Nothing has been said yet 
 about him ; in fact I have seen no one. 
 Probably he was fatigued with a long journey. 
 This sudden visit to Paris, and as sudden 
 return, remains to be explained. Mrs Sheffield 
 has evidently been ill at ease." 
 
 ^' Well, I can give you no more time now ; 
 T have much to do before I leave for town. 
 Your mother tells me you prefer remaining 
 behind — wonders will never cease ! However, 
 I will proceed to insure the end we all desire. 
 The Sheffield ennoblement must, of course, 
 precede any connection between the two 
 families. Lucidly the matter is sufficiently 
 easy ; our good merchant's capacities, as well 
 as influence, are bQth infinitely above the 
 average. And I am to understand that when 
 the matter is effected, you are content to 
 accept this young man's proposal."
 
 288 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 The colour deepened again on Lady Fanny's 
 cheek. ^' You forget; no proposal has been 
 made." 
 
 The Earl smiled. ^^ Ah ! I understand. 
 Well, adieu, my dear; I have no time to 
 lose." 
 
 He seated himself before a desk strewed 
 with papers ; Lady Fanny approached, and 
 bending down towards him, she permitted him 
 to imprint a somewhat nonchalant kiss upon 
 her forehead. The next moment he was 
 deeply immersed in his correspondence, and 
 again alone. 
 
 With a slow and noiseless step, the daugh- 
 ter, after closing the door, paced the long 
 corridor that flanked the principal upper 
 chambers of Wentworth, on her way to her 
 own apartment. Her eyes were bent upon 
 the ground, her cheek still wore the fading 
 radiance of the blush which had a few 
 minutes ago brightly visited it. Yet she 
 seemed troubled, and h^r hands trembled as 
 she undid the fastening of her door, and 
 bolted it from within, before throwing herself 
 into a seat.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 289 
 
 " And is it come to this," she murmured ; 
 "is it come to this ? And do I, Frances 
 Denham, not shrink from confessing it ? My 
 father may well say he has mistaken my 
 character. A month since I scarcely knew 
 the name ; and now — alas! I, the proud one — 
 I, the scorner — am only filled with one long 
 thought from night till morn, from morn again 
 till night, the thought of Darnley — Darnley 
 Sheffield ! " 
 
 She rose hurriedly, went to a wardrobe, and 
 drew out the dark cloth habit she had worn 
 the day of the accident. Long and earnestly 
 did she regard it ; and, before closing the 
 drawer again, she lifted the riding- cap, which 
 also lay within, and smiling as she did so, with 
 even a slight gesture of scorn at her folly, she 
 pressed the strings — strings which Darnley 
 had loosened that memorable evening — to her 
 lips, and to her bosom. 
 
 At the moment, a step was heard in the 
 
 passage, and shutting up her treasures, as 
 
 with the care of a miser. Lady Fanny, after 
 
 casting a hurried glance at the mirror, to ob- 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 serve if she were as usual, opened the door and 
 called Kosaraond. 
 
 Rosamond it was. 
 
 " I was coming to seek you ; mamma is 
 utterly unable to appear downstairs. Come, 
 Fanny, you and I must go and do the honours 
 of the luncheon-table in her absence." 
 
 There was a forced gaiety in Eose's manner, 
 which, transparent child as she was, became 
 apparent to her companion in a moment. 
 The Earl's daughter drew her young hostess 
 into her room, and quietly closed the door. 
 
 "Rosamond ! what is the matter? You are 
 not as usual — nay, I will not be denied — 
 your heart is full, and you have need of some 
 friendly ear. Tell the tale, dear ; what is it 
 troubles you ? " 
 
 It was pleasant, because it was so unusual, to 
 see the " nonchalante " and independent damsel 
 attempt a caressing manner, which, truth to 
 s^y, although easily discernible as a novelty, 
 sat not ungracefully upon her. She threw a 
 half-affectionate, half-patronising clasp round 
 her companion's slender waist, and sought the 
 latter's blue eyes with glances of solicitude.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 291 
 
 But Rosamond, if secret she had, was 
 under some engagement to guard its bitter- 
 ness within her own breast. She hid, for a 
 moment, her troubled countenance, and then, 
 hastily brushing away a tear, attempted to 
 disclaim, laughingly, the imputation of that 
 grief, which her pale and changeful cheek too 
 clearly declared. 
 
 Lady Fanny withdrew her arm silently ; it 
 was no part of her nature to proffer kind- 
 nesses that were undesired, unresponded to. 
 She took her gloves from the dressing-table, 
 and, without further remark, prepared to 
 leave the room in accordance with her com- 
 panion's desire. They had descended the 
 stairs, and already stood at the dining-room 
 door, when Eosamond, with a quick glance 
 of feeling and nature, turned suddenly, and 
 kissed the cold cheek which was towards her. 
 
 " Forgive me Fanny ; indeed I do not 
 mean to be unkind, ungrateful. I wish — 
 oh ! how I wish I were at liberty to tell you 
 all." 
 
 Lady Fanny smiled — smiled first, and 
 blushed afterwards. *^Does the confidence 
 
 u2
 
 292 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 refer to your brother ? I had already heard 
 Mr. Darnley Sheffield had returned home. 
 Late last night, was it not ? " 
 
 Rosamond looked anxiously round. 
 
 " Darnley is ill/' she said, her tears welling 
 forth with the sudden emotion she experienced 
 in the recollection. " I think even my mother 
 has very little idea how ill ! I have not yet 
 had ^YQ minutes' conversation with him. My 
 father, too, is away, as you know, but mam- 
 ma has never left him since his return, and 
 she says nothing l3ut quiet and rest will re- 
 lieve him." 
 
 ^' Some slight indisposition, which Mrs. 
 Sheffield's remedies will doubtless remove. 
 You are wrong, Rosamond, to allow yourself 
 to be unstrung by anything so trifling." 
 
 "My brother is my second self! " 
 
 " Doubtless. Yet one day it must be 
 different ; you will find yourself counting 
 ' number two ' in his heart, while for your own 
 part, I am not quite sure, from certain signs, 
 unmistakable even to a sobersides like me, 
 who all but disbelieve the tender passion in toto, 
 that you have not already discovered that
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 293 
 
 one other person is even more interesting than 
 ^ dear Darnley/ to your foolish little sisterly 
 meditations/' 
 
 A bright flush mantled upon the cheek of 
 Kosamond, and without attempting reply, she 
 was glad to turn the handle of the door, and 
 draw her young friend within the dining-room, 
 Fanny, near-sighted as she was, observed 
 correctly every indication inadvertently per- 
 mitted to show itself, and before relinquishing 
 it, slyly pressed the soft white hand she held 
 with a significance which only increased 
 Kosamond's trepidation. 
 
 The Earl, suddenly recalled to London, 
 ^was to take his departure accompanied by his 
 Countess, and they shortly afterwards made 
 their appearance partially attired for the 
 journey. Lady Fanny was to be left behind, 
 principally by her own desire, since Mrs. 
 Sheffield, who never committed the gaucherie 
 of pressing anything upon her guests that did 
 not appear to find immediate favour in their 
 eyes, had scarcely exerted herself more than 
 politeness dictated to suggest an arrange^ 
 ment, which, nevertheless, she appeared
 
 294 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 to regard with extreme satisfaction when com- 
 pleted. Eosamond, on her part, felt really- 
 glad to retain their visitor ; she dreaded being 
 thrown more with her mother, now there 
 was indeed a barrier to the close confidence 
 hitherto existing between them. Darnley had 
 been away also, and the sense of his probable 
 errand did not contribute to set her at ease. 
 Mrs. Sheffield, indeed, asked but few questions, 
 made no speculations, but her scrutinizing 
 glance was far more to be dreaded, and 
 Rosamond was only too happy to be spared its 
 occasional recurrence by Lady Fanny's pre- 
 sence, which generally had the effect of 
 bringing smiles to her mother's pale face, 
 and putting her in good humour, however 
 " distraite." 
 
 Captain Bellamy had come up to the Manor 
 to propose an expedition to see some capital 
 skating in the neighbourhood, and when the 
 bustle of Lord and Lady Bolsover's departure 
 had subsided, the party, wrapped in furs to 
 the nose, started to the scene of action. 
 
 Lady Fanny looked wistfully around as 
 they issued from the portico, but no Darnley
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 295 
 
 appeared, and she began to experience a 
 vague feeling of doubt and apprehension, 
 when it again occurred to her how sudden had 
 been his departure ; how plainly beyond either 
 of his parents' power to account for ; and now 
 how extraordinary the circumstances of his 
 return. 
 
 "These are some of the last skating -days 
 we must expect this season," said the Captain, 
 who had, as usual, installed himself her lady- 
 ship's cavalier ; "it's a pity Darnley Sheffield 
 is not with us. I hear his skating is 
 superb." 
 
 "There must be something wonderfully 
 exhilarating in the movement. I have a 
 fancy to try it myself Eose, can you 
 skate?" 
 
 " No ; I wanted to learn two years ago, 
 but Darnley would not teach me. He detests 
 the idea of a woman taking up so manly a 
 pastime." 
 
 Lady Fanny subsided into silence ; she did 
 not again propose a trial, though urged by 
 Captain Bellamy ai^d others of the party. 
 While the gentlemen were engaged in
 
 296 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 their sport, each vieing with his companion 
 to obtain most admiration from the group of 
 lookers-on, she wandered listlessly to and fro 
 beneath the leafless trees, her heart feeling 
 strangely cold and heavy in her bosom, as if 
 to accord with the cheerless scene around. 
 
 Every one knows a winter's afternoon, when 
 the sun has gone down, and the faint twilight 
 lies black and threatening along the snowy 
 fields and icy water, how unattractive is it, how 
 naturally suggestive of the contrasted charms 
 of a warm fireside, closed curtains, and lamp- 
 light. Lady Fanny, on this particular evening, 
 was painfully susceptible of the influence 
 of the season ; her breath seemed to freeze as 
 it quitted her lips ; her veil grew clammy and 
 heavy in the dim fog now coming on ; every 
 tree she came to, seemed like a warning appa- 
 rition ; the smaller shrubs, so many hooded 
 mourners awaiting a funeral ^^ cortege." 
 
 Rosamond, on the contrary, was lively and 
 joyous. She forgot Darnley's indisposition, 
 her own anxiety, when removed from the 
 actual scene of both. The fresh cold air sent 
 her young blood tingling and leaping through
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 297 
 
 her veins, and she felt almost vexed when the 
 skating-party advanced, laughing and joking, 
 and, declaring it too late to continue, proceeded 
 to light cigars and turn their steps home- 
 wards. 
 
 But not alone to the clear frosty air must 
 we attribute Kosamond's contentment. It 
 was not because the light was fading, because 
 the external landscape was cheerless, one me- 
 lancholy robe of blackened snow resting on it 
 like the sordid pall upon a pauper's coffin, that 
 she exclaimed with the poet — 
 
 '' So irnicli the rather thou, shine inward, Hght divine — " 
 
 yet another reason was there, oh ! maiden, 
 for thine elastic step, thy mantling cheek, thy 
 sparkling eye ! Just before leaving the house, 
 a letter had been brought by private hand, 
 and given to Miss Sheffield, and though it 
 contained a few, a very few words, so simple, 
 that, but for her precious secret, unknown, 
 anguessed at, she imagined, by any beyond 
 Cameron and herself, she might have given it 
 freely into her mother's hand for perusal, yet 
 the receipt of this, the first sweet messenger
 
 298 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 of love, the earnest of the tacit compact 
 between them, filled her Avith joy. It seemed 
 now, indeed, that, assured of his love, she 
 could never really be sorrowful, never ill at 
 ease. Happy Rosamond ! she remembered no 
 more the probable opposition to her union 
 with the penniless curate, or, if remembered 
 at all, hope, youthful, and inexperienced, 
 whispered all difficulties would cease if she 
 had only faith and courage enough to await 
 the period when fortune should smile upon 
 her lover's talents, and place him in a position 
 adequate to his desert. This was poor 
 Rosamond's excuse for her tacit engagement. 
 They were both young, she argued, with love's 
 sweet sophistry ; his birth was unexceptionable, 
 his energy extreme, his success must be certain, 
 his progress rapid. Mrs. Sheffield must con- 
 sent if the proper moment were only chosen. 
 As for her father, she was sure enough of 
 him. 
 
 It was now Rosamond's turn to be silent. 
 She walked homeward wrapped in blissful 
 visions, while the gay conversation around 
 her fell upon ears insensible to all but the
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 299 
 
 soft whisperings of the heart within. Lord 
 Altonby, who had been visiting in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and had only this day returned, 
 thought he had never known Miss Sheffield so 
 charming. His attentions were so gently 
 received, his conversation listened to with so 
 much deference, thus, at least, it seemed to 
 him, for Eosamond was only too happy to let 
 him talk for both, that the fear he had more 
 than once entertained of her indiiFerence, her 
 positive dislike, faded before the returning 
 vision of this lovely mistress to his establish- 
 ment, this charming hostess to his gay and 
 fashionable friends. 
 
 Lights were shining in the windows of the 
 fine mansion inhabited by our successful 
 merchant when they reached it ; the master 
 had returned, and would join his guests at the 
 dinner-table. They separated, and sought 
 their respective rooms. That of Lady Fanny, 
 which had adjoined her mother's, would have 
 seemed now dreary enough when Lady 
 Bolsover had departed, had her ladyship's 
 maid not remained behind to attend on her 
 young mistress, and taken care to have a
 
 300 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 brilliant fire in readiness for the latter's return, 
 whilst one of her most attractive toilettes was 
 spread out upon the bed. 
 
 Who shall deny that, a "becoming" dress 
 acts upon the temper of the wearer as 
 effectually as upon her appearance ; Lady 
 Fanny felt her spirits rise as her attendant 
 folded the luxuriant plaits around her 
 patrician-shaped head, and when the rich hues 
 of the dazzling glace silk were draped about 
 her really elegant figure, she turned to the 
 Psyche glass, and felt sure that she was " in 
 looks," and did fortune only favour her, 
 would obtain a just meed of admiration from 
 the eyes she now so ardently desired to 
 captivate. 
 
 Ordinarily, she bestowed little pains upon 
 her appearance ; her maid chose her dresses, 
 subject to Lady Bolsover's rather rococo taste. 
 It mattered little to her how, or in what style 
 she was attired, nor are we sure that, had she 
 interfered, the result would not have proved 
 perfect incompetence to form a correct judg- 
 ment, at all events, of her own characteris- 
 tics. According to Lavater, such an " insou-
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 301 
 
 ciance/' indicates also a deficiency of the 
 power to attract, even of the qualities that 
 inspire love. *^ The girl of eighteen," says 
 he, " who does not desire to please, will be a 
 slut or a shrew at twenty-five." Perhaps 
 this feeling had been latent only in the mind 
 of this solitary scion of the Bolsover stock ; 
 certain it is, many a sharp controversy had 
 been held between the mother and daughter 
 upon the subject ; equally certain that ,now, 
 when released from the hands of her atten- 
 d'ant. Lady Frances experienced a thrill of 
 pleasure on beholding herself in the mirror, 
 and this pleasure was so plainly impressed 
 upon her features, that she mentally exclaimed 
 ^^ Mamma, if she were here, would scarcely 
 know me." 
 
 From some unexplained cause, the corridor 
 was almost in darkness when Lady Frances 
 quitted her room. At first she thought of re- 
 turning to call her servant, but the faint 
 gleam of the reflected snow from one of the 
 more distant windows induced her to proceed. 
 She knew the way well, and felt sure she 
 could descend the staircase in safety : the
 
 302 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 lamp must have been lighted and become ex- 
 tinguished. 
 
 Lady Fanny's knowledge of the mansion 
 was, however, rather more defective than she 
 had imagined. Deprived of light, and never 
 gifted with a quick vision, she lost herself in 
 the first passage which intersected the main 
 corridor, groped her way with difficulty on- 
 ward, and, fairly bewildered, was just about 
 to call for assistance when a door opened 
 gently at her side, and a stream of light from 
 a lamp suddenly protruded from the aperture, 
 showed her the turn she ought to have taken, 
 and that she had mistaken the way to the 
 main staircase, and stood within a few steps 
 of that appropriated to the apartments of Mrs. 
 Sheffield in the southern wing. 
 
 So suddenly had the chamber been revealed 
 near which she now stood, that Lady Fanny 
 remained close to the wall, immediately be- 
 side the open door, totally incapable of utter- 
 ing a word. Meanwhile she glanced with a 
 feeling of dismay at the countenance of the 
 person bearing the lamp, and who stood in an 
 attitude of intent listening, immovably in the
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 303 
 
 same place and posture, perfectly unconscious 
 of observation. 
 
 This personage was no other than Mrs. 
 Sheffield herself. 
 
 xittired in full dinner costume, her magnifi- 
 cent robe of crimson velvet only rendered 
 more deathly pale the countenance and bosom 
 of the wearer; the diamonds that crowned 
 her high regal brow were not more glistening 
 than the eyes beneath them, restless with 
 fever and suppressed anxiety. Though her 
 lips were firmly set, the hand which sustained 
 the light shook convulsively. Lady Fanny 
 would have recovered her self-possession, and 
 offered assistance, had not the expression of 
 the livid countenance she gazed at, awed and 
 affi^ighted her. 
 
 But still more intense grew her surprise 
 and horror when sounds came from the open 
 room, chilling her frame, and calling up a yet 
 stronger feeling of interest than the one she 
 had hitherto experienced. It was the voice 
 of Darnley, a voice at which her heart had 
 already learned to thrill, for she had been 
 brooding over his remembrance during the
 
 304 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 entire period of his absence. Who guesses 
 not the overpowering throb of emotion which 
 comes upon the heart again permitted to 
 hear the accents of a loved one after a separa- 
 tion like this, a separation which had revealed 
 the secret spring of tenderness, it might be, 
 changed the strong current of the heart's 
 fathomless abysses ; taught it to flow for ever, 
 in another channel? 
 
 Yes ; it was Darnley Sheffield's voice ; but 
 what a change was there ! No longer gentle 
 and mellifluous, the troubled sentences came 
 wildly gushing forth, alternating with tender 
 pleadings, terrible threats, which turned her 
 heart to stone, and ever and anon fainting into 
 exhaustion, as nature, apparently unequal 
 to the mortal struggle, sought to attain by tem- 
 porary calm, renewed power for the recurring 
 shock of mental aberration. 
 
 Darnley was delirious, and what idea did his 
 ravings principally breathe ? She listened invo- 
 luntarily. It was evident he was thinking about 
 some woman, beloved, though unseen, whom he 
 said he had travelled long and weary miles to 
 rejoin, and would give up only with his latest 
 breath.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 305 
 
 Then followed unintelligible in coherency, 
 ending in piteous moans. All this while Mrs. 
 Sheffield stirred not from her posture of extreme 
 attention. When the voice ceased, she hastily 
 turned, first to one side, then to the other, and 
 raising her lamp, looked from end to end of 
 the passage, apparently in mortal dread that 
 the sufferer might be overheard. It was inex- 
 plicable that she should not have perceived 
 the involuntary spectator and auditor, and 
 Lady Fanny's presence must have been de- 
 clared, had she not stood so close to the lamp, 
 as to be within the shadow it cast when raised 
 above. So near, indeed, was she, that she 
 could almost hear Mrs. Sheffield's heart 
 beat. Had she been less absorbed by the 
 emotions called up by the discovery of 
 Darnley's very dangerous illness, she could 
 not have failed to notice the sharp contraction 
 of the mouth, the decided, even forbidding, 
 frown with which Mrs. Sheffield listened to 
 her son's words. 
 
 Apparently satisfied, however, that no one 
 was within earshot, that lady now retreated, 
 noiselessly as she appeared. The rays of the 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 lamp no longer illuminated the dusky passage ; 
 the sounds of bodily pain and mental anguish 
 came no more to the ear of the bewildered 
 girl. The door was again shut, and trusting 
 to her own resources, assured now of the 
 locality she had invaded, and of the means of 
 exit, Lady Fanny, faint and sick at heart, 
 aware of the utter impossibility of meeting 
 Darnley, for this evening at least, turned, and 
 precipitately fled.
 
 307 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE FALLING STAR. 
 
 Rosamond Sheffield, guessing a portion of 
 the truth, but not all, was deeply mortified at 
 finding herself excluded altogether from the 
 room where her brother lay, according to 
 Mrs. Sheffield's account, in a high state of 
 fever. She was distressed to find her mother 
 would not give up to herself the task of nurs- 
 ing this dear brother, tormented, as she 
 feared, no less by the pangs of mental than 
 bodily sufiering. But Mrs. Sheffield was in- 
 exorable. Rosamond received instructions to 
 
 x2
 
 308 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 join their guests, and take her mother's place, 
 was assured no serious illness menaced her 
 brother, and was even led downstairs by Mr. 
 Sheffield, who, with merely a somewhat grave 
 expression, came to fetch her, declaring his 
 conviction that Darnley had only '^ taken a 
 violent cold, and would be better in the 
 morning." 
 
 The whole affair seemed inexplicable to 
 Lady Fanny. The excessive emotion she had 
 seen depicted on Mfs. Sheffield's face puz- 
 zled and distracted her, when taken in con- 
 nection with the self-possession and apparent 
 ease of that lady's husband. The words she 
 had heard Darnley utter were certainly those 
 of delirium, and yet how sustained, how con- 
 nected, had been the urgent terms in which 
 he had expressed his wishes. 
 
 Lady Fanny began to think both father and 
 daughter strangely heartless. An idea most 
 remote from the truth crossed her brain. 
 She welcomed it with eagerness. Could it 
 be possible, if Darnley already loved, that he 
 feared the difficulty of obtaining the hand of 
 her with whose image his whole soul was
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 309 
 
 filled; could it be tliat he had perilled his 
 life to save one already dear to him, that the 
 chosen mistress of his heart was herself? 
 
 This fancy, once present, gained strength 
 and plausibility with every succeeding moment. 
 Although, as we have seen, by no means of a 
 conceited nature, on the contrary, even care- 
 lessly indifferent to the want of that personal 
 attractiveness which she felt sure she never 
 had, and never should possess, the Earl's only 
 child had an innate consciousness of those ad- 
 vantages her mind really owned, nor did she 
 think it otherwise than likely that Darnley, 
 feeling his own weakness — and was it not 
 for that very weakness she loved him, 
 strange paradox of human affection ! — should 
 voluntarily resign himself to an overwhelming 
 passion for that stronger nature destined to 
 perfect and complete his own. All the woman 
 stirred within the haughty bosom of the young 
 girl at this thought. She would gladly have 
 gone alone to take her place at the bedside of 
 her undeclared lover. She longed to whisper 
 to him her attachment, to assure him of her 
 perfect comprehension and sympathy, nay.
 
 310 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 more, to breathe to him the happy certainty 
 that opposition and difficulty waited not on 
 his path, that even at this very moment the 
 Earl, her father, was carrying out the plan 
 originally touched upon by Mrs. Sheffield, but 
 elaborated only by herself, for promoting the 
 union of the two families, by the attainment 
 of a peerage for the successful merchant. 
 
 And where was Mrs. Sheffield? How 
 engaged, while the darling scheme of her 
 heart was thus attaining realization, whilst 
 her hopes seemed to go upon wheels to 
 their consummation, and not only fortune, 
 rank, birth, but even love — rare endow- 
 ment of the marriage portion among the 
 great ! — was suing for acceptance at the 
 hands of her adored child? 
 
 Alas ! in the very spring-time of her 
 wishes, when every bud appeared ready to 
 expand to rich and glowing blossoms, the 
 cup of happiness was to be dashed from 
 her lips; the entire scheming and plotting 
 of her life was to be submerged beneath 
 the waves of a base-born passion, a mar- 
 riage, threatened at least, if not actually
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 311 
 
 existing, with some French intriguante, ad- 
 venturer, or grisette. 
 
 Jealous as of her very life, that no ear 
 save her own should become cognisant of 
 her son's delirious ravings, there was no 
 one to whom she could delegate the task 
 of watching him. Whatever happened, she 
 must gain time for reflection, for organi- 
 zation of the elements she had to oppose 
 against Darnley's mad passion and pro- 
 bable ruin. One thing was certain, and 
 this her quick penetration speedily gathered, 
 as well from what he had said when, 
 comparatively sane, he had thrown him- 
 self upon her bosom and endeavoured vainly 
 to tell her all, as from his broken and 
 incoherent language now, when fairly over- 
 powered by the intensity of that grief he 
 had been suffering during the last few 
 days; one thing was certain, fortune had 
 hitherto fought with her, instead of against 
 her. The object of Darnley's attachment 
 had been separated from him forcibly, he 
 had no clue to the discovery of where she 
 was hidden : Mrs. Sheffield clenched her
 
 312 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 hands tightly together, and breathed an 
 earnest prayer he never might obtain one! 
 
 What to her were the pangs, the agony 
 of that distant heart, weeping tears of 
 blood over the severance from every beloved 
 tie, the breaking up of every dream of 
 earthly happiness? She could not see the 
 miserable Estelle, frantically extended upon 
 the floor of the little cabin — wild waves 
 around filling the limitless obscurity — the 
 thunder-boom of the coming tempest sound- 
 ing above, yet, amidst all, the sight of 
 her forsaken husband's grief- stricken coun- 
 tenance, the wail of their lost infant, 
 making themselves terribly present to eye 
 and ear. The heart of the mother might, 
 probably would, have melted at the sad 
 spectacle, but it was hidden from her, 
 and her bosom was steeled to all by the 
 thought of her only son's happiness corroded, 
 his prospects endangered, his mind abso- 
 lutely distracted by his connection with 
 one she imagined a member of the very 
 lowest class of foreign adventurers. 
 
 Well would it have been could the power
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 313 
 
 have been hers to look upon her victim 
 Estelle was alone with her grief, every 
 hour separating her further from the heart 
 of Darnley. Her eyes vainly sought to 
 pierce the darkness, when, exhausted by 
 her own wild struggles for composure, she 
 looked from the tiny barred aperture upon 
 the dark and looming sky, one star alone 
 appearing high above, which, as the vessel 
 rocked and heaved, she ever and anon 
 caught sight of and lost again, seeking 
 to make a friend of it, and interrogate 
 its mysteries with earnest passionate appeal. 
 
 And while she looked, it disappeared, 
 fell — flew rather — down the heavens, leav- 
 ing, as it seemed, a path of radiance, 
 filled up by the rushing darkness as soon 
 as formed. The skies were all blank again, 
 her heart seemed as if, losing the faint 
 gleam, it had lost its last hope. She covered 
 her poor grief-stained countenance with her 
 hands, and fell back hopelessly upon the 
 cold and cheerless floor. 
 
 And at the self-same time Mrs. Shefiield 
 also was looking forth, and upon that par-
 
 314 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 ticular spot in the heavens she too fixed a 
 vague, unquiet gaze, watching the star which 
 flickered and glistened fitfully, putting strange 
 thoughts into her brain. 
 
 The rest were all at dinner, the house 
 was still, the reflection of lights below 
 occasionally crossed her vision, but the fire 
 within the luxurious chamber sparkled so 
 brilliantly that she was obliged to let the 
 thick curtains fall behind her, the better 
 to enable her to look forth into the 
 threatening night. What were her thoughts 
 as her gaze was riveted on that pale 
 speck above? What held she in her hand 
 so closely, doubting what to do with it, 
 whether to restore it to the breast whence 
 she had robbed it — for Darnley now slept 
 heavily, worn out by excitement — or to 
 hide it for ever from his gaze, and that of 
 any prying eye? 
 
 Around Darnley's neck she had discovered 
 a miniature, small, but beautifully executed, 
 the portrait of a young and surpassingly 
 lovely woman. It was scarcely more than 
 a head, there was no costume to judge
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 315 
 
 from, but upon the back of the little case, 
 a single word, " Estelle," was engraved, 
 together with a date, something about a 
 twelvemonth ago, or rather longer. Instantly 
 Mrs. Sheffield recalled the letter she had 
 destroyed, that missive bearing this same 
 name. 
 
 ^' Separation — death, — Estelle." Yes, the 
 remembrance was fixed, as in letters of flame, 
 upon her mind ! 
 
 Here, then, was the object of her son's 
 passionate idolatry ; those lovely eyes had 
 looked their loveliest for him ; those lips 
 unclosed to welcome and to praise ; that 
 touching smile been ever ready to beam 
 in return for his — in fact, was it not that 
 very smile those very eyes, that were haunt- 
 ing his troubled breast, and driving him mad 
 now? 
 
 And, as if in confirmation, Darnley at 
 this moment murmured the same sweet 
 name in accents of pathetic tenderness 
 in his sleep — ^^ Estelle — Estelle — my 
 wife ! " 
 
 Mrs. Sheffield had thought long and
 
 316 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 anxiously, had struggled vehemently with 
 the evil spirit within, had striven to say 
 farewell to the indomitable pride that pos- 
 sessed her; and unsuccessful in this, at 
 least to regard the future as beyond her 
 influence, out of her power to make or 
 mar : she had endeavoured, weak, misguided 
 woman as she was, to be just, magnani- 
 mous, to be femininely susceptible to the 
 passionate agony of the child of her bosom, 
 but now grief, jealousy, disappointment, 
 pride, were busy in her brain. Her reso- 
 lution seemed to attain giant force. Was 
 the whole scheming of her life to perish 
 before the love-sick effigy of that pale-faced 
 girl ? Was Darnley's, was his father's 
 aggrandizement, her own reinstated position^ 
 to be lost sight of because this " Miss " — 
 this "domestic it might be," — had left a 
 copy of her features to drive Darnley back 
 at any moment from filial duty and love 
 to madness, and the attempt — probably 
 successful — to regain the original ? No ! she 
 was resolved, she would go through with 
 what she had begun. Never, never again
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 317 
 
 should her son look upon those features, 
 at least if there were skill or craft in woman 
 to prevent it ; and as for the picture, that 
 should henceforth be either safely hidden 
 away, or she would, by destroying, put 
 it out of his power ever to be recalled 
 to the past by any association it had 
 strength to call up. She had said it, she 
 would not look back. Darnley should be 
 the husband of Lady Frances Denham, and 
 of no other. His father should, by his 
 aid and hers, become the fortunate possessor 
 of the only thing he still lacked, a ^^ noble 
 name,^'* and she — 
 
 At the same moment when these thoughts 
 passed through her mind, when her resolu- 
 tion was taken, how irrevocably her own 
 iron will fally knew, the star upon which 
 she looked shot swiftly from its place, and 
 was lost for ever. She started in surprise, 
 and glided back into the room. Something 
 even in this natural phenomenon is appalled 
 her. 
 
 There exists in Moldavia a popular super- 
 stition, that when any person dies, the star
 
 318 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 which appertains to him, and has influenced 
 his destiny from the hour of his birth, falls 
 from the heavens. Was it the moral angel 
 of Mrs. Sheffield's formerly stainless honour 
 which thus silently, swiftly, gave up its charge, 
 and Tanished into oblivion, never again to 
 reappear ?
 
 319 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE FOSTER MOTHER. 
 
 Duty, nay, that even which we mistake for 
 duty, has, like its near relative, virtue, the 
 rare advantage of bringing with it its " own 
 reward.'^ It is a mental tonic; the bitterer 
 the taste, the more salutary the effect ; the 
 greater the debilitation of the system by grief 
 or suffering, the more extraordinary the 
 invigoration resulting to that mind sufficiently 
 energetic to swallow the frequently unpalatable 
 draught. 
 
 If Marcelline Dubois had with reluctance
 
 320 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 accepted the summons back to life, when body 
 and soul were alike prostrated by the shock 
 of her lover's untimely fate, she was, even 
 more speedily than sometimes falls to the lot 
 of the duteous, repaid for the effort by the 
 sweet feeling of protection with which she grew 
 to regard the existence of the helpless infant 
 she had believed solemnly confided to her care. 
 The hours, so heavy otherwise, grew inex- 
 pressibly precious for this loved object's sake. 
 The task of dressing and undressing, of setting 
 off, by every simple adjunct available, the 
 interesting little person of her nursling, — the 
 daily progress clearly apparent to her, if to 
 no other, and of which she never tired talking 
 — last, though not least, the growing inclina- 
 tion it began to evince to be tended and fed 
 by her hand only — all these made life again 
 valuable to the young nurse. Every other 
 hope within her was dead, every selfish as- 
 piration, every human yearning. But the 
 child was a sacred legacy, a beneficent re- 
 sponsibility, sent to teach her endurance, and 
 consecrate the earthly blossoms of love, newly 
 withered, into an amaranthine garland.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 321 
 
 Marcelline sometimes thouglit of " those who 
 have, unawares, entertained angels ; '^ and 
 looking tremblingly into the fathomless eyes 
 of the forsaken infant, realised somewhat 
 of the feeling they must have experienced. 
 
 " I have nothing in the world but you — 
 petit mignon ! — ange d' amour ! — nothing ! '^ 
 
 Marcelline sat upon the low stool in the same 
 little cabin, belonging to the portress, within 
 which she first was introduced to the reader ; 
 that terrible room, since strangely hallowed by 
 the remembrance of the last vision of her lover, 
 a vision become, almost, reality. She was 
 alone, and the pearly spring sunshine coming 
 through the door, open to admit the fresh 
 morning air, laden with the perfume of a 
 mezereon bush growing just outside, lit up her 
 figure and countenance. 
 
 A shade paler, a thought less rounded only 
 in lineament and outline, yet how much 
 meaning in the change ! No one could have 
 mistaken her for a mother, such an entire 
 absence of passion was there in the whole 
 listless, yet strangely -in spired, attitude of the 
 young girl. She was rather a saintly nurse, 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 an impersonation of charity, sympathizing with, 
 yet superior to, the weakness she pitied and 
 alleviated. 
 
 ^^ Nothing but you — nothing ! '^ she re- 
 peated, and a sigh, soft but prolonged, 
 followed the words. 
 
 "Why, how now, my little Marcelline?" 
 said the cheerful voice of old Mere Antoinette, 
 as she came bustling in from the drying- 
 ground of the institution, with a pile of fresh 
 snowy linen in her arms. " Sitting there 
 alone, and peering into the eyes of our joli 
 petit monsieur, as if he could answer all thy 
 silly nonsense in words as whimsical ! '^ 
 " Dear Antoinette, only look at him ! " 
 " Only look at him? Well— and what then? " 
 " Don't you see ? — he smiles ! — a real smile. 
 Nay, indeed, now you must believe it — when- 
 ever I do thus, I can make him smile, how- 
 ever serious — quite a little laugh." 
 
 "Bless the child! one would think she 
 never saw a healthy infant before. Of course 
 you can. A child of that age ought to com- 
 mence to be a little more than a wooden doll, 
 a puppet that lies in one's arms like a dog.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 323 
 
 Any one may see he will not want for esprit, 
 for ^vivacite.' I hope he may come to repay all 
 this tenderness, my dear," added the old 
 woman, kindly, and smoothing with her rough 
 hand the velvet cheek of the baby. 
 
 ^* Ah ! of that I am sure. My whole heart 
 is filled with him ; my dreams are about him 
 at night. Oh that I might keep him with me 
 always ! I dreamt a little while ago that I had 
 him all to myself in a pretty white cottage, 
 somewhere a long way off, surrounded by 
 trees, and where none of the sisters were 
 able to come and snatch him from my bosom, 
 as Marthe did yesterday. Oh, how happy I 
 was ! " 
 
 " Well, that may be, some day. You mean 
 to work again, I conclude, after a while. See 
 whether your earnings won^t improve, and 
 perhaps hereafter enable you to take him 
 away from the Hospital and keep him for 
 your own." 
 
 Marcelline coloured and looked down. 
 
 ^* Mean to work again." She remembered 
 she had been idle, that ever since that journey 
 to Dieppe she had relinquished labour alto- 
 
 y2
 
 324 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 gether, neglected her usual customers, lived 
 only upon the trifle she had laid aside before 
 her misfortune. Absorbed in her grief, and 
 only partially forgetting it when engaged, as 
 indeed she had been, through Antoinette's in- 
 tervention, constantly near the infant, she 
 had considered the necessity to labour passed, 
 — gone with that life to prolong and charm 
 which she had formerly aspired in commencing 
 her simple hoard. Guillaume was dead : what 
 need to toil ? She could live upon anything — 
 nothing, — and his legacy, if ever spent at all, 
 should go to charitable purposes. Not a sou 
 of it had yet been touched. 
 
 But now it seemed as if she had been to 
 blame. The old woman was right ; by such 
 means it was possible the infant might 
 actually become hers. If she worked now, 
 she might save enough to support not only 
 herself, but it ; and in that condition, too, to 
 which she felt it properly appertained. Al- 
 ready the odious uniform of the little foundling 
 had become hateful to her ; already she had 
 dreamed of the emancipation of her darling 
 from the confined atmosphere of the wards.
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 325 
 
 from the infectious mischief which was daily 
 to be seen and deplored around, in word and 
 deed. Yes, she would work ! 
 
 Mere Antoinette, whose naturally keen 
 good sense and kindly desire to benefit those 
 around her had suggested the employment of 
 any incentive calculated to draw the poor 
 girl's attention from her woes, and induce the 
 healthy activity of mind which she saw had 
 been temporarily blighted, was pleased to see 
 the expression which stole over Marcelline's 
 countenance, and hastened to improve the op- 
 portunity which presented itself. Never be- 
 fore had the latter listened to her upon this 
 subject with either patience or attention. 
 
 "Yes, do you not know, child, that anyone, 
 you, or I, or who will, may take a child and 
 keep it, so long as they can give proper secu- 
 rity that it shall be fed, clothed, and, at a 
 reasonable age, instructed also ? The institu- 
 tion even allows a certain sum towards its 
 maintenance, until it is twelve years old, 
 by which time it is supposed the petit can 
 give some little assistance to the same ob- 
 ject."
 
 326 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 '^Dear Antoinette, why did you not tell 
 me this before ? " 
 
 " Before! Who would have thought of your 
 attaching yourself to any foundling thus ? It 
 is truly incredible ! " 
 
 ^' This was Guillaume's legacy ; from his 
 spirit I received it/' was the solemn answer. 
 
 ^'Ah, I forgot/' said the old woman, a 
 pitying tear rising unbidden to the eyes which 
 gazed upon the imaginative young "foster 
 mother." " Well, well, my child, spare thy- 
 self anxiety upon the subject ; if ever you are 
 able, there will be no difficulty in procuring 
 what we desire." 
 
 "I, a poor friendless girl — do you think 
 they would really commit such a responsibility 
 into my hands ? Oh, how glad I should be ! " 
 
 " Glad of what ? " said a quiet, severe voice 
 at Antoinette's elbow, and as both women 
 looked up, somewhat startled by the suddenness 
 of the query, the speaker repeated it, coming 
 -§lowly forward until he stood within the door- 
 way. 
 
 The Abbe Vauclin, confessor and director, 
 was a man between thirty and forty, very tall,
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 327 
 
 very erect, and with an air of dignity and 
 command even beyond his years, and, when he 
 chose, resistless. None more punctilious in all 
 matters of form, of penance, of show ; none 
 more ascetic in demeanour ; it was astonishing 
 that he was preferred, in his quality of con- 
 fessor, to all others, especially by the younger 
 nuns, nurses, and attendants attached to the 
 Enfants Trouves, at which institution he habit- 
 ually exercised his vocation. It was, indeed, 
 said by some, that a pair of bright eyes had 
 the power of effectually thawing the icy 
 breath of his reproof, that even while the 
 piercing regard was most penetrating, the 
 penance died away unspoken upon the lips, 
 and the spirit of cold and scanty words was 
 contradicted by the curves around a mouth 
 formed to relax into something perhaps a 
 trifle too decidedly material in expression. 
 
 The Abbe's popularity, however, was not 
 confined to the weaker sex. By men, he 
 was accounted far above the average in point 
 of intellectual superiority. A deep thinker, 
 an able sophist, a plausible exponent, capable 
 at once of dazzling the understanding, stimu-
 
 328 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 lating the sensuous perceptions, and benumb- 
 ing, rather than convincing, the judgment, 
 what wonder that his power, once permitted 
 free scope, should bow before it the feeble 
 wills of young untaught women, to whose 
 excited imaginations he appeared almost in- 
 vested with the panoply of a G-od ? 
 
 As yet, however, this charmed circle had 
 not opened to receive the unconscious Mar- 
 celline. Although of late, often for hours 
 together, occupied in the Hospital, she had 
 no positive abode there, and came within 
 none of its regulations. She had more than 
 once thought of offering herself as nurse, but 
 the idea had been checked by the dread she en- 
 tertained, as much of tending other infants, 
 as of being forced to see her darling subjected 
 to any care beyond that of her own gentle 
 hands. But against this proposition another 
 reason had almost unconsciously arisen, and 
 that was, strange to say, the presence 
 of this very man, this Abbe Vauclin 
 himself. 
 
 Occasionally, since she had grown to know 
 the system of the institution, and been per-
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 329 
 
 mitted to come and go, in consequence of her 
 misfortune, at her own sad will, Marcelline 
 had ventured into the church, and stood, 
 wrapped in admiration, to listen to the 
 thrilling language of the pale, severe-looking 
 man who alternately fulminated words of fire 
 from the pulpit, and drew forth the tears of 
 his auditors by pathetic pictures, which he 
 seemed studious to push to the very extreme 
 of reality. Upon the first of these occasions, 
 she had remained spell-bound, standing in the 
 same place, scarcely breathing, almost un- 
 conscious of the outward world, and was 
 recalled to remembrance by the Abbe himself, 
 who, descending slowly, and with the air of a 
 man completely exhausted by the vehemence 
 of his own declamation, had passed her ; 
 casting upon her, nevertheless, a glance of 
 scrutiny which haunted her during the whole 
 of the subsequent night. 
 
 Attracted by a kind of fascination, she had 
 returned more than once to listen to this 
 extraordinary eloquence, to hear words which 
 evoked a species of vitality from her other- 
 wise dead heart, but yet thrilled and
 
 330 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 appalled her by the vigour of their denunciation 
 and the fierceness of their imagery. In pro-, 
 portion, however, as she became interested in 
 the orator, she grew distrustful of the man, — 
 why, she could as soon have told as she 
 could have counted the starry glories of the 
 heavens, to which, every night in prayer and 
 in penitence, her child-like spirit looked up 
 through her eyes, as to the home of Guillaume 
 the Blest. What would poor Marcelline have 
 thought could she have heard the preacher in 
 his hour of triumph, could she have seen him 
 wrought into enthusiasm by the eager glances 
 of courtly hearers, have noticed his voice tremble 
 with pathos, his eye sparkle with conscious 
 power, his lip curl into scorn, as the cynosure of 
 observation, he held his auditory, principally 
 in this case also feminine, enthralled by his 
 imaginative and powerful eloquence ? 
 
 Strange what a settled antipathy rose 
 within her ; one not the less potent because 
 she was herself unconscious of its existence. 
 It was enough that she knew a tremor crept 
 over her frame, when, the sermon over, he 
 descended, and appeared again to become a
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 331 
 
 portion of the world inhabited by herself; 
 that she was prompted instinctively to retire, 
 never staying long enough, nor approaching 
 sufficiently near, to meet a second such glance 
 as the one he had that first night bestowed 
 on her. 
 
 But one evening, just as dusk was coming 
 on, she had passed him in the garden, so 
 close, indeed, that the black robe he wore 
 sent a shock, icy and sudden, through 
 her veins, making her draw hastily back. 
 She repeated the action the next moment, 
 when he had sternly and somewhat roughly 
 spoken to her, asking " of what she was 
 afraid ? " She had scarcely courage to 
 stammer out an inaudible reply, during 
 which he gazed with that penetrating scru- 
 tiny before alluded to, at her features. 
 But as he looked, another expression stole 
 over his face, and it was to Marcelline even 
 less pleasing than its predecessor. She 
 shrank timidly away, inwardly resolving never 
 to meet the priest again. With such feelings, 
 it is not astonishing that the blood mantled 
 to Marcelline's very brow with surprise and
 
 332 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 agitation, when the voice of the Abbe, that 
 same musical but composed voice, demanded 
 of Antoinette and herself, of what a 
 conversation had been, evidently so inter- 
 esting to her. 
 
 ^' Glad of what?'' 
 
 The old woman, startled no less than 
 Marcelline by the unexpected apparition of 
 the Confessor, yet recovered herself the first. 
 She made a respectful reverence, and, falling 
 back to admit the priest's entrance, dusted 
 one of her wicker chairs with her apron, in 
 obedience to a gesture which declared his 
 intention of prolonging the interview by 
 taking a seat within her humble abode. 
 
 " Monsieur has overheard the talk of two 
 foolish women. It was all about a child 
 which this girl, herself newly from the cradle, 
 would fain adopt — she would become a 
 mother to it." 
 
 The Abbe turned the glance of his dark 
 eyes upon Marcelline, with an increased 
 expression of investigation and doubt. It 
 was met by a deep accession of colour. 
 
 ^* Indeed! And why, my poor girl, this
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 333 
 
 strange interest in a stranger? It is a 
 stranger ? " 
 
 He spoke interrogatively, but Marcelline 
 replied not. Antoinette hastened to her 
 assistance. 
 
 " Oh, yes — quite so. Marcelline — please, 
 this is Marcelline Dubois — happened to be 
 here the night the infant was placed in the 
 basket, and ever since she has been devoted 
 to it, as you see." 
 
 "But why?" persisted the priest; "has 
 she no friends of her own, that she 
 seeks to create for herself a tie so filled with 
 responsibility as the care of an orphan 
 child?" 
 
 " It was a likeness — a likeness to one 
 who—" 
 
 " Oh ! hush — pray hush, Antoinette ! " 
 pleaded the anxious accents of her companion. 
 She dreaded, more than she could account 
 for, the betrayal of her secret — the strange 
 poetic delusion which she fostered as a 
 happiness in her inmost heart — and to such 
 ears! 
 
 The Abbe's brows knit.
 
 334 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 "There is some concealment here. To 
 whom is the likeness ? What is the secret ? " 
 
 Looking at Marcelline, and seeing how 
 deeply she was moved^ the old woman had 
 remained silent. There was nothing like 
 guilt in the countenance of either, but 
 extreme anxiety certainly upon one, and pity 
 and something of tenderness upon the other. 
 Yet their questioner's brow grew more lower- 
 ing, the tones of his voice unusually severe. 
 Unheeding the evident dread of the younger 
 woman, he desired Antoinette, after a few 
 moments' calm, cold expectation of the 
 answer which came not, to take the child and 
 retire. 
 
 "It is necessary I should speak a few 
 words with this girl alone." 
 
 Antoinette approached, surprised at the 
 extraordinary demeanour of her young 
 favourite. She laid her hands upon the 
 infant, which was still closely held to Mar- 
 celline's bosom. 
 
 " No, no ; I will not part with it." 
 
 " Hush, hush," whispered the other ; 
 " what is it you fear ? "
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 335 
 
 Marcelline sighed heavily. 
 
 '^Take away the infant/' repeated the 
 priest, harshly, and the fingers slowly relaxed, 
 while the order was obeyed. " Go ! '' 
 
 The Abbe Yauclin regarded fixedly the 
 pale countenance of the girl, which, slowly 
 turned towards the door, watched Antoinette 
 and her burden disappear. But a whisper 
 had turned her thoughts into another 
 channel — " Monsieur is all-powerful here ; he 
 can do all we want ; he can get you the 
 child given into your care at once, if you only 
 ask him." These words had given her fresh 
 life, and a timid blush crossed her cheek as, 
 summoning courage to look towards him, she 
 cast a pleading glance at his features. 
 
 She certainly was very beautiful ! There 
 was so much soul in her face. 
 
 So thought the Abbe as he silently 
 arose, and, moving very slowly, composedly 
 closed the door after the departing port- 
 ress. 
 
 It seemed to Marcelline as if a cloud 
 suddenly overshadowed her. 
 
 And outside so bright and so genial !
 
 336 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 The sky was clear, and against it a sprig 
 or two of the more forward trees seemed 
 tipped with silver buds, as Antoinette, 
 looking upwards, moved down one of the 
 garden-paths, the infant held in one arm, 
 gathering tiny muslins, caps, and kerchiefs 
 from the shrubs on either side, and piling 
 them under the disengaged arm, and even 
 lightly across the pretty baby-face which 
 crowed and mantled as if in sport be- 
 neath. 
 
 The door of the lodge was already open 
 when, her task accomplished, she returned, 
 and entering, called Marcelline. 
 
 The latter was sitting motionless in the 
 same place where Antoinette had left her, her 
 head bent down, her hands tightly pressed 
 upon her forehead. Going up to her, the 
 portress found she was weeping bitterly. 
 
 In answer to all her enquiries, she only 
 sobbed out exclamations broken and in- 
 coherent, affording no clue to the cause 
 of her emotion. Something, indeed, she 
 said about not knowing before how deeply 
 her heart was dyed with sin, something
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 337 
 
 about the passion which had been so newly 
 withered in its budding promise, being for- 
 bidden even to melancholy and purest 
 remembrance; but nought could the sur- 
 prised woman at her side glean calculated 
 to gratify curiosity, or suggest that com- 
 fort she longed to administer. 
 
 Yerily, gigantic is the power which 
 Kome delegates to her sons; and fearful is 
 the condition of that hapless soul which 
 blindly walks, like the wandering princess 
 quoted by a great writer in illustration 
 of this identical topic, into the enchanted 
 palace, whence web after web of gossamer, 
 the type of habit, precludes ber exit so 
 long as life remains ! The dye, once fixed 
 upon the polished surface of the heart, is 
 like the fatal spot upon the bright key 
 let fall by the wretched Fatima in Blue- 
 beard's Chamber of Horrors. All human 
 power is vain to eradicate it. You may 
 rub, you may wear the metal away, you 
 may try pungent acids until the brightness 
 is sullied for ever, and the surface all seared 
 and defaced, yet still the tint is there, 
 
 VOL. I. z
 
 338 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 running through the whole, ineffaceable, 
 eternal ! 
 
 What was the object of the Abbe? 
 What aim had he in view when, in those 
 few words, first of inquiry, and then of 
 startling denunciation, which she had just 
 listened to, he probed her soul with so 
 new and terrible a feeling of surprise and 
 awe? Was it that he wished to estab- 
 lish an influence over this poor victim, 
 newly deprived of every earthly hope ; an 
 influence paramount, entire, which might 
 bind her a willing slave, not only to the 
 dogmas of the spiritual director, but to 
 the promptings of the erring mortal? 
 
 If so, Marcelline, the simple, the un- 
 taught, possessed a shield against his en- 
 deavours which he little calculated upon; 
 a coat of mail which might indeed be 
 dinted, but would never entirely give way 
 to the hand of an assailing foe. Where 
 love exists, or has even once existed, it 
 is a difficult matter to the priest to es- 
 tablish absolute power. He is met by a 
 simple logic which disarms and afirights
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 339 
 
 him ; his words are tested by the clear 
 lamp which ever burns brightly in a pure 
 soul consecrated to the earthly heaven of 
 an unselfish attachment. Woe to him, shame 
 and discovery to the devious path he would 
 fain urge upon his penitent, if its rays 
 once fall upon any object calculated to 
 reveal the vicinity of the yawning abyss 
 beyond ! 
 
 At length Marcelline aroused herself, and 
 drying her tears, though she still trembled 
 violently, bestowed an agitated caress upon 
 the infant. Here, at least, it was evident 
 her heart was still unobscured by doubt, 
 and had free liberty to follow its natural 
 promptings. How long might it be so? 
 
 Antoinette endeavoured to interest her 
 young companion. Like all old gossips, 
 she chose first one subject and then an- 
 other, descanting far more upon any which 
 afforded particular ground for scandal, grief, 
 and consternation, than upon topics of an 
 animated or cheering description. 
 
 " You heard, my child, about the hor- 
 rible murder near the Cathedral; the poor
 
 340 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 old cure, Pere Lambert, who was not 
 only assassinated, but taken away also, 
 strange to say, in the middle of the night, 
 a while ago ? 
 
 ^^Yes,'' Marcelline carelessly replied. She 
 was in no mood for horrors. 
 
 "Well, I am told the police are on the 
 track of the ruffians, and they will pro- 
 bably be discovered, but, in the meantime, 
 only think how dreadful ! They say the 
 neighbours are leaving the street, and it 
 will soon be completely deserted, for he 
 walks, Marcelline, the Pere walks, every 
 night." 
 
 " Indeed " — listlessly. 
 
 "Yes, in truth. And how do you think 
 he appears — eh, Marcelline ? He is dressed 
 — fancy how horrible ! — in a white rohe de 
 chamhre, stained with blood from top to toe, 
 and bearing — the ghost has been seen by 
 several — his head, not upon his shoulders, 
 but severed, and in his hands before 
 him." 
 
 "There Tvas a servant too — has nothing 
 been heard of him? "
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 341 
 
 "Nothing; indeed, it is universally be- 
 lieved he did the horrid deed. All the 
 money, but a trifle, the poor priest had, 
 his valuables, such as they were, all of 
 which, remember, the man-servant knew 
 where to put his hand upon, are missing. 
 Of course he did it, there is no manner of 
 doubt for a moment.'' 
 
 '^The poor old man! " 
 
 " The thing is, there were no marks upon 
 any door or window. The murderer was in 
 the house. Why, Marcelline, what are you 
 shuddering at ? " 
 
 " Nothing ; the air is cold — let me put on 
 some fuel. You shiver also." 
 
 Marcelline had noticed a black figure pass 
 the window. The next moment the bell for 
 vespers rang. She turned pale as she reple- 
 nished the stove, and then busied herself in 
 preparing for departure. 
 
 " They say there was a young English 
 gentleman inquiring for the priest the very 
 day of the murder, and that when he found 
 he was gone he became completely mad for a 
 time, and had to be carried away and taken
 
 342 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 care of by the authorities. I wonder if he 
 were any relation to the poor Father ? If I 
 were they, I would never rest till the per- 
 petrators of the wicked deed were dis- 
 covered ! '' 
 
 Marcelline came up, and kissed her aged 
 friend. 
 
 '^What, going, my dear? Well, if you 
 must, wrap your shawl around you. You are 
 right — the night is growing cold.^^ 
 
 The old woman accompanied Marcelline to 
 the door. Lingering a few moments, the 
 latter, downcast and miserable, left her. 
 
 ^' Which way are you going, child ? — are 
 you not returning home ? " she exclaimed, as 
 she observed her turning from the portal and 
 preparing to cross the garden, beyond which 
 lay the entrance to the chapel. 
 
 " I am going to confession," was the reply, 
 a cold shudder passing over Marcelline's 
 slight frame. 
 
 " Confession ! Why, you have never gone 
 there before. Confession ! Do you not con- 
 fess at St. Sauveur's? I thought so." 
 
 " The Abbe wills it so. He appointed me
 
 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 343 
 
 to go as soon as vespers shall be concluded. I 
 have no alternative but to obey.'^ 
 
 There was something so dispirited, so woe- 
 begone, yet at the same time so frightened, in 
 Marcelline's manner of saying these few words, 
 that Antoinette looked after her with deep 
 compassion as the listless figure disappeared 
 within the colonnade of arches; nor only 
 watched until then, but lingered, scarcely 
 knowing why, to observe the sisters issue si- 
 lently from the chapel at the conclusion of the 
 service, even the organ-player leave the gate 
 with a passing salutation to herself, and clank 
 it with a heavy fall behind him. 
 
 Then she knew that Marcelline had gone 
 into the silent aisles, was even at that moment 
 kneeling within one of those dark little recep- 
 tacles, separated only by a thin wooden parti- 
 tion from the Abbe, that terrible man, 
 terrible even to her, who admired his elo- 
 quence, and placed implicit faith in his 
 authority. 
 
 What was it which, as she pondered earn- 
 estly the events of the day, made her press 
 Marcelline^s sleeping protege to her withered
 
 344 RAISED TO THE PEERAGE. 
 
 bosom, and lift in the silent evening a heart- 
 felt prayer, not only for the support, the 
 consolation, but the safety of the poor young 
 foster-mother ? 
 
 END OF VOL. 1. 
 
 R. BORN, PRINTER, GLOUCESTER STREET, REGENT S PARK.
 
 NEW WORK BY THE AUTHOR OF "JOHN HALIFAX." 
 
 Noio ready ^ at all the Libraries^ in 3 vols.^ 
 
 A LIFE FOE A LIFE. 
 
 by the author of 
 
 "john halifax, gentleman," 
 
 "a woman's thoughts about women," &C. 
 
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 " We are always glad to welcome Miss Mulock. She writes from 
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 "A new tale from the pen of the Author of 'John Halifax' is sug- 
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 " In every work by the Author of ' John Halifax ' we are sure to 
 
 find much to admire — a lofty and generous tone of feeling, proofs of 
 
 perceptive and graphic power, and the language of a conscientious 
 
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 SAM SLICK'S NATURE & HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY LEECH, 
 
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 JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN. 
 
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 THE CRESCENT AND THE CROSS. 
 
 BY ELIOT WAEBURTON. 
 
 " Independent of its value as an original narrative, and its useful and interesting 
 information, this work is remarkable for the colouring power and play of fancy with 
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 NATHALIE. BY JULIA KAYANAGH. 
 
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 A WOMAN'S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
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 written, true-hearted, and altogether practical." — Examiner. 
 
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 BY THE AUTHOR OF " MRS. MARGARET MAITLAND." 
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