n- 
 
 I/- M 
 
 
 . t
 
 
 
 L I B R.ARY 
 
 OF THL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 D 2.26 s
 
 THE 
 
 STUDENT'S AYIFE. 
 
 ^ md. 
 
 MRS. MACKENZIE DANIELS, 
 
 AUTHOB OP " MT SISTER MIXME," " FERNLET MANOR," " OUR 
 GUARDIAN," " GEORQINA HAMMOND," ETC. 
 
 IN THKEE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON 
 THOMAS CAUTLEY KE^'BY, PUBLISHER, 
 
 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 
 1852. 
 
 i^
 
 
 THE studp:nt's wife. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The world deals very rousrhlv sometimes 
 with its gentlest ones ; and those of whom 
 in their vouth it has been said that the 
 first breath of sorrow will hurl them to 
 the groimd, are often destined to encounter 
 the \\ildest storms, and have a power given 
 them to stand asrainst — if not to beat 
 back — the whu-lwind, which fills with an 
 infinite wonder, the sage prognosticators 
 
 of their earlier years. 
 
 «■ 
 
 But the tempest once over, tlie angiy 
 waves once hushed to a soothing calm, how 
 intensely do these children of tranquillity 
 and meekness enjoy the repose that follows 
 — drinking in peace as the ver\- waters of 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 life, and luxuriating, to an extent which 
 none but themselves can fully comprehend, 
 in the dull, changeless monotony that has 
 at length succeeded their day of forced and 
 unnatural excitement. 
 
 The story I am about to relate was told 
 to^me by one whose own history formed 
 a striking exemplification of the above 
 remarks; and although I was never en- 
 trusted with more than a few disjointed 
 passages from this most interesting and 
 eventful life, I knew quite enough to 
 convince me that my aged friend had 
 personal experiences of no common nature, 
 and that when she spoke of the calm joys 
 of declining years, there was ever a prayer 
 of deep thanksgiving in her heart for the 
 contrast these afforded to the fierce, wild 
 storms that had raged around her in her 
 earlier days. 
 
 Mrs. Porrest was nearly seventy when I 
 first came to know her intimately ; but she 
 was still remarkably healthy, and far more 
 cheerful, I was assured by many, than she
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 6 
 
 had been at any former period of her exist- 
 ence. I can so distinctly remember her 
 placid, gentle aspect, her soft, womanly 
 voice, her rather faltering step, but above 
 all, her dear ^vinning ways with those she 
 loved ; and from this Kst I could never 
 find a single human being excluded. 
 
 I was very young, very thoughtless, and 
 very much addicted to romance reading at 
 the time to w hich I am now referring ; and 
 one hot summer's day, having in vain ran- 
 sacked my friend's library for something 
 new in the "Castle of Otranto" stvle, I 
 sought Mrs. Forrest in the cool, pleasant 
 room where she was generally content to 
 abide, and seating myself familiarly at her 
 feet, said, saucily enough — 
 
 " Now, you good, kind creature, do tell 
 me yom* own history from the very begin- 
 ning — and mind you don't leave out the 
 love parts." 
 
 "Little, coaxing Puss!" she replied, 
 stroking my hair, and smiling more faintly 
 than usual ; "so you thought to take the 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE student's WIPE. 
 
 old woman by storm, did you ? but I bave 
 no intention, eitber now or at any futiu-e 
 13eriod, of gratifying your curiosity con- 
 cerning my own past trials. Wbat you 
 already knoAV I do not grudge you ; for tbe 
 rest, let it be buried witb me. However, 
 if you want materials for tbat romance you 
 bave been talking about writing these last 
 hundred years, I think I can supply you 
 with some that will answer your purpose. 
 And these, I may add, ought to interest 
 you more than any which relate only to 
 the grey -haired old woman beside you." 
 
 " I am sure they won't, though," I said, 
 Avith the licensed freedom of a spoilt child. 
 *' You are going to tell me the whole life 
 and adventures of some awfully good 
 female, who always spoke, thought, felt, 
 and, I dare say, loved by rule, or as her 
 truly worthy and estimable parents desired 
 her. Now, my dear, darling Mrs. Porrest, 
 have some pity on a little sinner like my- 
 self, and forbear driving me to despera- 
 tion by holding up to my view this heroine
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. O 
 
 of supernatural virtues. If you won't let 
 me hear your own life, I would much 
 rather go out and run after that pretty 
 butterfly than sit listening to a sermon, 
 badly disguised, like childi-en's powders in 
 raspberry jam.'* 
 
 "Little sinner, indeed !" replied my too 
 indulgent friend, " and quite unworthy of 
 a single spoonful of the delicacy you pre- 
 sume to despise. Xeyertheless, as it hap- 
 pens that what I am about to relate pos- 
 sesses more the nature of raspberry jam — if 
 by that you mean loye and nonsense — than 
 of any doctor's stuff whateyer ; and as I am 
 really curious to see this lons^ talked of 
 romance begun, I shall overlook your im- 
 pertinence, and proceed at once with my 
 story. But go and fetch your work first ; 
 I do not love to see young fingers playing 
 at holiday too loner." 
 
 " Without much anticipation of amuse- 
 ment, I settled myself in an easy chair, 
 and taking from my apron pocket a little 
 netting that I generally carried about with
 
 6 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 me, prepared to act, mth all due decorum, 
 the part of listener to my respected and 
 venerable friend. 
 
 Alas ! the lips that then spoke so plea- 
 santly have long been silent in the grave ; 
 the meek eyes that wept in recalling the 
 suiferings they had witnessed, have long 
 been closed in death ! The very name of 
 gentle Mrs. Forrest has become almost a 
 forgotten sound ; but in the pages of the 
 simple story I have at length determined 
 on commencing, her memory shall live 
 again ; and thrice honoured shall I feel if 
 my repetition of the tale afford, to even one 
 solitary individual, the same degree of 
 pleasure and interest that I experienced, 
 long years ago, while listening to it from 
 the lips of gentle Mrs. Porrest, as I sat, a 
 thoughtless girl, beside her in that cool 
 and quiet room.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 TuE village of Elderton in the south of 
 Encrland has always been a remarkably 
 quiet place, and thirty years ago there was 
 something positively curious in its entu'e 
 freedom from every species of movement 
 and progress, such as in present days may 
 be discerned working, more or less rapidly, 
 from one end of our industrious and fa- 
 voured island to the other. Thu'ty years 
 ago the little village of Elderton boasted 
 only of a solitary and not particularly well- 
 conditioned street, a very small rudely built 
 chm-ch, and three or foiu* dozen cottages, 
 inhabited by the labouring? classes. But at 
 something less than a quarter of a mile's 
 distance from this primitive hamlet stood an 
 old parsonage house that would have done 
 honoui' to a tillage of far higher preten-
 
 8 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 sions than poor Elclertoii uas ever likely to 
 put forth ; and how such a choice specimen 
 of tasteful architecture came there at all, 
 was a matter of lively astonishment to each 
 successive rector who was fortunate enough 
 to assemble his household gods beneath its 
 pleasant and hospitable roof. 
 
 During many years the moderately paid 
 living of Elderton had been held by very 
 aged incumbents, and the beautiful parson- 
 age house had consequently changed mas- 
 ters with a frequency that caused much 
 dissatisfaction to the quiet villagers, who, 
 having nothing of importance to grumble 
 about, availed themselves of every trivial 
 circumstance whereon they might hang 
 that darling tale of grievances which ap- 
 pears absolutely necessary to the comfort 
 and independence of every son of Albion. 
 
 But even this excuse for indulging the 
 master passion was at length wrested from 
 the worthy dwellers at Elderton by the 
 arrival amongst them of a middle-aged, 
 vigorous, and singularly energetic rector,
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 9 
 
 who bid fair to outlive a large proportion 
 of his parishioners, and to retain the charm- 
 ing parsonage as long as the most inveterate 
 railer against new teachers could desire. 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Berrington was an exceed- 
 ingly sociable person, and he entered upon 
 his new living Avith the full determination 
 of making himself as agreeable and as popu- 
 lar, ^Wth all classes of his neighbours, as he 
 could by any means contrive to do. The 
 shock sustained by the reverend gentleman 
 on discovering that there was, literally, only 
 one class towards whom these benevolent 
 and philanthropic feelings could be exer- 
 cised might have deprived Elderton of the 
 brigiitest star that had ever yet shone upon 
 it, had not the amiable rector's sensible 
 wife and pretty daughter declared loudly 
 in favour of then* new home, in sjDite of 
 those disadvantages which, in common 
 with the head of the family, they acknow- 
 ledged and deplored. 
 
 Mrs. Berrington was, as I have hinted, a 
 very sensible woman ; but, like the rest of 
 
 B 3
 
 10 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 US, she had her little weaknesses, one of 
 which consisted in an exaggerated apprecia- 
 tion of cupboards, of every variety and size. 
 The absence of these useful domestic fix- 
 tures in their last dwelling had been a con- 
 stant source of regret to her ; and when 
 she discovered, on going over the old par- 
 sonage at Elderton, that every room and 
 every landing had its separate cupboard, 
 and that all were equally commodious, no 
 earthly power could have persuaded her to 
 yield to Dr. Berrington's hastily expressed 
 proposal of endeavouring to exchange his 
 recently acquired living with that of an 
 easy, good-natured brother, who was set- 
 tled in a bustling and extensively populated 
 neighbourood. 
 
 Theresa Berrington, the only and well 
 beloved child of this really estimable 
 couple, was a quiet, reserved, and very 
 thoughtful little girl, just verging upon 
 that charming age when life begins to 
 throw off its chrysalis disguise, and to 
 appear clothed in those exquisite rainbow
 
 THE student's WIFE. 11 
 
 hues which the young, innocent heart 
 fondly dreams will be eternal in their 
 sweetness and beauty. So Theresa wan- 
 dered alone, when the sun was setting, 
 through the large, quaintly planted, but 
 altogether delightful garden, of the parson- 
 age house, and her foolish little heart was 
 won by its novel and somewhat romantic 
 aspect, in the same way, and quite as 
 rapidly, as her mother's had been by the 
 cupboards above mentioned. 
 
 Under these circumstances, the new rec- 
 tor of Elderton had no choice but to submit 
 quietly to his fate, and, in justice to a very 
 wortliy man, it must be acknowledged that 
 he did so ^vith an excellent grace ; and 
 instead of continuing liis lamentations 
 asjainst the destinv that had brousrht him 
 to this isolated portion of the globe, he set 
 all his energetic brain in action to discover 
 some means of ameliorating the e^il which 
 had so suddenly burst upon hun. 
 
 The family were seated at their comfort- 
 able l^reakfast about a week after their
 
 12 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 
 
 arrival, when Dr. Eerrington, Avho had 
 appeared in an unusually thoughtful mood 
 since he took his place at the head of the 
 tahle, exclaimed abruptly, and with con- 
 siderable animation — 
 
 '' My friends, I have an idea — I have 
 two ideas, indeed ; and I really think you 
 will be charmed with them." 
 
 '' Oh ! I hope," said Mrs. Eerrington, 
 *' that you are not forming any plans for 
 leaving Elderton. Now that everything is 
 unpacked and put in order, it would be 
 such a thousand pities." 
 
 ''My love, make your mind quite easy 
 on that score," replied the smiling husband. 
 " Erom the moment I found that you and 
 Tessie had set your hearts upon the place, 
 I thought no more of giving it up. Eut I 
 presume you would, neither of you, object 
 very vehemently to a little better society 
 than there appears, at present, any chance 
 of our obtaining." 
 
 *' Certainly not," said the sensible wife, 
 quickly, and looking affectionately at the
 
 THE student's WIFE. 13 
 
 pretty daughter who sat so quietly by her 
 side. 
 
 " "Well, then, ray love," resumed the 
 husband, **my first idea is — ^to build a 
 house." 
 
 " Good gracious. Dr. Berrington ! I 
 never heard of such a thing in my life." 
 
 " Nevertheless, my dear Jane, such things 
 have been ; and, therefore, may be again. 
 Now, just listen to me a moment." 
 
 " But you know nothing about building, 
 I am afraid," persisted the surprised Mrs. 
 Berrington ; " and I am sure there are no 
 architects at Elderton." 
 
 " I scarcely think there are," continued 
 the rector cheerfully, *'but there are 
 masons, carpenters, and blacksmiths, I 
 have no doubt ; and these will be enough 
 for my piu*pose, as I intend the architects 
 to be you, Theresa, and myself. There is 
 a capital bit of building land to be sold 
 cheap about five minutes' walk from our 
 house, and here we will construct our cot- 
 tage ornee, which will insure us some
 
 14 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 society more congenial than that at present 
 sarrounding us." 
 
 " How very, very nice !" exclaimed The- 
 resa, before her mother could speak ; '' and, 
 dear papa, do let me draw out a plan for 
 the garden, and have that quite under my 
 own management." 
 
 " So you shall, my Tessie ; and mamma 
 shall have the cupboard department en- 
 tirely under her control. It's my opinion 
 that our joint production will prove a non- 
 pareil, and that, when it is ready for habi- 
 tation, our only difficulty will consist in 
 choosing from amongst the numerous ten- 
 ants who will offer themselves." 
 
 *' I dare say it is a very nice plan," Mrs. 
 Berrington now put in ; " but I really can- 
 not yet see clearly where the tenants are to 
 spring from. Depend upon it, people in 
 search of houses would never dream of 
 coming to quiet little Elderton." 
 
 " It would certainly, my love, be unwise 
 to place our hopes of a tenant on chance 
 visitors to this exceedingly remote, and, to
 
 THE student's ^^IFE. 15 
 
 more than three parts of the world, un- 
 heard-of village. Iso, I rejoice to say I 
 have still sufficient intelligence to discern 
 between the possible and the impossible ; 
 therefore my intention is, when the cot- 
 tage arrives at completion, to advertise it 
 in most of the London paj)ers ; and also, to 
 send a di'awing of it, which Tessie shall 
 make, to the principal house agents in the 
 metropolis. I believe, my love, you will 
 now admit that my plan is a very perfect 
 one in all its parts and details." 
 
 " You are, undoubtedly, an excessively 
 clever man, Dr. Berrington," said theT\4fe, 
 with a smile of genuine admiration. *' But, 
 now, for the second idea you spoke of; I 
 am quite ciu'ious to know what that can 
 be." 
 
 '' Ah ! " replied the rector, thoughtfully, 
 " that must be quite an after consideration ; 
 and, ^dth yom' leave, I will defer the com- 
 munication of it until we see how the fii'st 
 one works. At present, I want you and 
 Theresa to put your bonnets on, and go
 
 16 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 with me to look at the piece of ground on 
 which our future cottage is to stand. You 
 know my maxim — ' Whatever is to be 
 done, let it be done quickly.' "
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Dr. Berrington was one of those indi- 
 viduals who in the world are called "lucky." 
 Almost everything he undertook prospered 
 heyond his most sanguine expectations, 
 and the present project was not destined 
 to form an exception to this general rule. 
 In a word, the pretty cottage ornee sprang 
 up as if by magic, and the quiet people at 
 Elderton were becoming enthusiastic con- 
 cerning then' new rector, who, though he 
 preached in the little oaken pulpit every 
 Sunday, as man had never preached there 
 before, was yet not too proud to doff his 
 neat, clerical dress on working days, and 
 assist in the painting, papering, and deco- 
 rating of this rapidly progressing cottage. 
 
 Mrs. Berrington and Theresa had also 
 their allotted daily tasks, but the latter
 
 18 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 evinced the most diligence, and performed 
 her part, indeed, to such perfection, that 
 the rector insisted on giving her name to 
 the house, and ''Theresa Cottage" was 
 consequently printed in very large letters 
 just below the slanting roof, and many 
 months before there was the slightest 
 chance of its requiring a distinctive appel- 
 lation of any kind whatever. 
 
 But at length the word " Pinis 1" was 
 pronounced by the triumphant architect 
 and proprietor ; a flag of dazzling colours 
 was hoisted from one of the gothic chim- 
 neys, the advertisements were written out, 
 and Theresa's drawing received the last 
 finishing touches, preparatory to its depar- 
 ture for the great metropolis. 
 
 It was quite an amusing thing, during 
 the week or fortnight that followed, to 
 listen to the endless variety of conjectures 
 hazarded by each member of the parsonage 
 chicle, as to the style, manner, and appear- 
 ance of the future tenants of Theresa Cot- 
 tage. Ample space had been allowed in
 
 THE student's WIFE. 19 
 
 its construction for the accommodation of 
 a large family; and that the head of a 
 large family would, sooner or later, answer 
 one of the attractive advertisements, daily 
 appearing in the London joiu^nals, was the 
 firm and unchangeable conviction of all 
 interested in the matter. But day suc- 
 ceeded day, and week succeeded week, 
 without bringing, in any shape whatever, 
 the anxiously expected application ; and 
 even the sanguine rector was beginning to 
 experience sundiy uncomfortable misgiv- 
 ings, when, one morning, the subjoined 
 letter was put into his eager hands : — 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 " I have just seen, by accident, your advertisement 
 in this morning's paper, and as I am at present in search 
 of a perfectly quiet and secluded dwelling-house, I think 
 it probable that the one here referred to may meet my 
 views. Trusting to your kindness to send me, at your 
 earliest convenience, full particulars relative to the cot- 
 tage at Elderton, 
 
 " I remain, sir, 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 " Annie Forrest. 
 " P.S. — I have no family, and keep but one female 
 servant."
 
 20 THE student's wife. 
 
 *' Well," said Dr. Berrington, as he laid 
 down the laconic epistle, which, for the 
 benefit of his anxious companions, he had 
 read aloud, " Well, it was scarcely worth 
 while to build a house for the pleasure of 
 becoming landlord to a crabbed old maid, 
 with one female servant. Tessie, I am 
 afraid your pretty flower garden will have 
 small chance of being appreciated now, 
 whatever may be the honour paid to 
 mamma's fine cupboards." 
 
 The rector spoke cheerfully and plea- 
 santly, as, to his credit be it told, he nearly 
 always did ; but it was not difiicult to per- 
 ceive that he really felt great disappoint- 
 ment at this death-blow to his hopes of 
 sociable and intellectual neighbours. 
 
 Had the present application arrived at 
 an earlier period, there is no doubt that it 
 would have been cast aside disdainfully, as 
 imworthy a second thought; but experi- 
 ence had convinced the amiable rector of 
 Elderton, that even gothic cottages may 
 sometimes "go a begging;" and he was
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 21 
 
 not in those flourishing: worldly circum- 
 stances to make the interest of the large 
 sum expended in this last speculation a 
 matter of little moment to him. 
 
 On the contrary, it was highly important 
 that Theresa Cottage shoidd begin to be 
 useful as well as ornamental ; and, all 
 things considered, there was nothing to be 
 done but to write immediately to Mrs. 
 Amiie Porrest, and give her those par- 
 ticulars concerning the place that might, 
 at once, decide the worthy lady to become 
 its enviable occupant, or to abandon all 
 thoughts of it for ever. 
 
 The former result was obtained by the 
 letter dispatched tliat night to London ; 
 and a day was fixed, early in the ensuing 
 week, for the arrival of the rector's tenant, 
 with all her household goods, at Elderton. 
 
 It was the spring-time of the year, and 
 Theresa, though sharing in some degree 
 her father's disappointment concerning the 
 first occupant of her namesake cottage, was 
 most anxious that the flower garden should
 
 22 THE student's wife. 
 
 do credit to the care bestowed on it, and 
 wear a smiling aspect, to welcome its new 
 mistress. So, every day the rector's pretty 
 daughter might be seen bending amongst 
 the green shrubs and half-opened flowers 
 that her own fair hands had planted, or 
 training delicate creepers round the wooden 
 pillars of the gothic porch, with a taste and 
 skill that one would scarcely expect to find 
 exhibited by such a very quiet looking, 
 unassuming little girl. 
 
 The day before Mrs. Porrest was expected 
 to arrive, Theresa had worked so indefati- 
 gably, that when the evening came she 
 felt almost too tired to walk home ; and, 
 thinking it possible that her father might 
 come to fetch her, she seated herself on a 
 rustic bench just within the porch of the 
 cottage, and began that pleasant, idle sort 
 of dreaming, in which we all, at one period 
 or other of our lives, have been accustomed 
 to indulge. 
 
 It was a luxury, however, of which 
 Theresa Berrington was only beginning to
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 23 
 
 be conscious ; and there were still visions 
 of new bonnets, of delicious gallops on a 
 long promised pony, and of crossed letters 
 from dear female friends, mingling Tsitli 
 those anticipations of deeper and more 
 mysterious interest, whose very nature was, 
 at present, the sweetest mystery of all. 
 
 But, on the occasion in question, Theresa's 
 innocent castle-building came to an im- 
 timely end, by the sudden unlatching of 
 the garden gate, which caused her to rise 
 hastily from her seat, and advance, with 
 wondering looks, to meet the indi^-idual 
 ^\'ho had broken so unceremoniously on her 
 pleasant solitude. 
 
 One glance sufficed to couAince the 
 rector's daughter that it was a stranger 
 she saw before her ; and a stranger, too, 
 of a stamp by no means common at 
 Elderton. 
 
 The lady — for it icas a lady, and no 
 interesting hero dropped from the clouds 
 on purpose to initiate Theresa into the 
 charming mysteries of which she had been
 
 24 THE STUDENT^ S WIPE. 
 
 vaguely dreaming — paused abruptly when 
 she perceived Miss Berrington, and began 
 in rather an embarrassed, nervous manner : 
 
 " I really was not aware — I have to 
 apologise for intruding ; but I had under- 
 stood that " 
 
 '' Oh pray," interrupted Theresa, already 
 wonderfully interested in her very pale 
 and sad-looking companion, " do not say a 
 word about intruding. You probably heard 
 that this cottage was to let ; and so it was 
 until a few days ago. I am so sorry, if you 
 did come to see it, that it should have been 
 taken previously. We were most anxious 
 to secure a pleasant neighbour, and I 
 fear " 
 
 The faintest possible blush on the still 
 fair cheek of the stranger lady caused 
 Theresa, at this point, to stop, and to 
 reflect that she was getting much more 
 confidential than she had any right to be. 
 " I am sure," she continued presently, as 
 the other did not speak, " we should have 
 liked you for a tenant exceedingly. There 
 is no societv at Elderton."
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 25 
 
 ** You are Dr. Berrington's daughter, 
 then, I presume," said the lady, smiling 
 for the first time, in what Theresa thought 
 a most fascinating manner. 
 
 " Yes ; and you are — forgive me, if I am 
 taking too great a liberty" — 
 
 " I am Mrs. Forrest, your father's new 
 tenant," replied the stranger, extending 
 her hand very cordially to the now blush- 
 ing and confused Theresa; ''and I am 
 happy that an accident has thus intro- 
 duced us to each other, as I had fully made 
 up my mind to shun all and every acquaint- 
 ance, without the slightest reference to 
 their merits or deserts." 
 
 Mrs. Porrest probably volunteered this 
 information to give her young companion 
 time to recover from her siu^prise and con- 
 fusion, for she was not a person of many 
 words, and her own private thoughts or 
 intentions were about the last subjects she 
 was in the habit of making public. Theresa 
 felt and appreciated this graciousness ; but 
 it was some little time before she could ex- 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 THE student's wife, 
 
 press any part of the delight she really- 
 experienced in the idea of having such a 
 charming, interesting, and altogether un- 
 common sort of person for a neighbour — 
 perhaps an intimate friend. Por had not 
 Mrs. Porrest herself insinuated that she 
 should henceforth consider Theresa an ex- 
 ception to the rule of shunning all acquaint- 
 ances which she so candidly confessed having 
 made ? 
 
 To the rector's simple, inexperienced little 
 daughter, this was, indeed, an adventure 
 of a most exciting natiu'e ; and Mrs. Porrest 
 must have been more of a misanthrope than 
 her looks proclaimed her to be, had she re- 
 ceived coldly or indifferently the eager and 
 assiduous attentions that her new acquaint- 
 ance appeared disposed to lavish upon her. 
 
 They first went all over the house to- 
 gether, Theresa leading the way, and be- 
 coming every minute more at her ease with 
 the quiet, ladylike Mrs. Porrest, who, now 
 that she had said what was required, and 
 explained what she deemed necessary, sank
 
 THE student's WIFE. 27 
 
 back to a natural or acquired reserve of 
 manner, and allowed her young companion 
 to have the whole conversation to herself. 
 
 The latter, however, was abundantly 
 satisfied with the praises bestowed on her 
 flower-garden, and with Mrs. Porrest's 
 assurance that this should be, for Theresa's 
 sake, the ol)ject of her o^tl especial care. 
 
 " But I am not much of a horticultu- 
 rist," she continued; "and I shall really 
 feel very grateful if you will come and look 
 after these pretty flowers as often as pos- 
 sible. You say you have no society at 
 Elderton ; otherwise, believe me, I should 
 scruple to invite you to so dull and lonely 
 a place as any home of mine must be." 
 
 "Oh!" said Theresa, eagerly, "I shall 
 
 never find it dull or lonelv. It will be so 
 
 (/ 
 
 kind of you to let me come." 
 
 Mrs. Eorrest looked half sm^prised and 
 half affected at this girlish enthusiasm con- 
 cernmg the doubtful privilege of visiting 
 a middle-aged, spiritless, unamusing person 
 like herself ; but she saw that it was genu- 
 
 c 2
 
 28 THE student's wiee. 
 
 ine — and Theresa Berrington became, from 
 that m.oment, an object of singular and 
 affectionate interest to a heart that, in all 
 the wide world, had not a single creature 
 on whom to lavish its still fresh and unpol- 
 luted springs of tenderness and love. 
 
 The new friends parted at the gate of the 
 parsonage, Mrs. Porrest to return alone to 
 the quiet village inn, where, with her one 
 female servant, she was awaiting the ar- 
 rival of her furniture, and Theresa to has- 
 ten into the comfortable parlour of her 
 happy home, and relate to her wondering 
 parents every detail of the charming adven- 
 ture which had filled her innocent heart 
 with such pleasurable anticipations, and 
 would give them all an interesting topic of 
 conversation for many days to come.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 As spring advanced, "Theresa Cottage''' 
 became the admiration, if not the envy, of 
 the whole neighbom^iood, and Mrs. Eor- 
 rest looked around her, day by day, and felt 
 that at last " the lines had fallen to her in 
 pleasant places." That peace for which 
 she had vainly sighed during so many 
 clouded years was now within her grasp ; 
 that absence of all external causes of excite- 
 ment, which she had despaired of ever 
 again experiencing, was now her daily por- 
 tion. And she sat thankfully, if not yet 
 rejoicingly, under her own vine and her 
 own fig tree, none making her afraid. 
 
 But a long course of mental suffering 
 leaves other traces of its footsteps than the 
 blanching of the cheek and the silvering of 
 the hair ; and although these outward and 
 visible signs of past sorrow had set their
 
 30 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 
 
 eternal seal upon gentle Mrs. Porrest, it 
 was in a more kindly manner than that 
 sphit which works secretly upon the in- 
 most heart had done. Eor this had thrown 
 a dark veil over the beautiful face of nature, 
 had distorted everything in the external 
 world, had represented the waters of life as 
 all bitter to the taste, and, finally, had ex- 
 hibited death as the only refuge from suf- 
 ferings which even long habit and consti- 
 tutional ]3atience and meekness could not 
 render endurable. 
 
 The blanched cheek and the silvered hair 
 would soon blend gracefully with advanc- 
 ing age ; but years and years must pass 
 before the poor bruised heart could see 
 through the dark veil which grief had 
 woven for it — the bright sun shining upon 
 the world, as it had shone in those early 
 days when sorrow was a poem of the ima- 
 gination, and life a fair dream, in which 
 this poem could find no place for represen- 
 tation. 
 
 Mrs. Porrest had been eminently calcu-
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 31 
 
 lated to adorn as well as to enjoy society ; 
 but, except for a very brief space, she had 
 done neither, and it would have been a vain 
 task to endeavour to persuade her that she 
 had yet ample capabilities for both. Her 
 intention, when she came to Elderton, was, 
 as she had informed Theresa Berrington, to 
 shun even those every- day acquaintances 
 which are almost indispensable to our 
 social condition, but which the friendless 
 widow fancied would only be an aggra- 
 vation of her loneliness. 
 
 The accidental meeting with Theresa pre- 
 vented, however, the entire carrying out of 
 this purpose, as it was impossible to receive 
 the daughter on friendly terms without be- 
 coming, in some degree, intimate with the 
 parents, who would, indeed, have been 
 grievously disappointed had their interest- 
 ing and amiable tenant persisted in the 
 barbarous intention of closing her door 
 and her heart against such unobtrusive 
 advances as theu's. 
 
 But although Mrs. Forrest did not do
 
 32 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 
 
 this, she never professed — because she 
 never felt — any vivid pleasure in the com- 
 panionship of the rector or his wife. The 
 former was too much in love with the 
 world and its thousand innocent enjoy- 
 ments, too earnest and energetic in all his 
 words and actions, to suit one who desired 
 nothing under the sun but entire freedom 
 from excitement; and Mrs. Berrington, 
 though calm and quiet enough for a saint, 
 had a mind too practical and minute to 
 accord with that of her reserved and grief- 
 stricken neighbour. 
 
 They had not a thought in common ; 
 except it might be concerning Theresa ; 
 and the affectionate mother was not dis- 
 pleased at discovering that, if there was a 
 subject which could rouse the interest of 
 ''that strange Mrs. Eorrest," and win a 
 smile from those pale, calm lips, it was the 
 subject of her own dear daughter's past 
 life and future prospects. 
 
 " We do not expect or wish our Theresa 
 to form a grand connection," the rector's
 
 THE student's WIFE. 33 
 
 sensible wife observed one day, in conver- 
 sation with Mrs. Porrest ; *' nor should I 
 care for her marrying at all, did I not 
 conscientiously believe that there is no 
 other state of life in which a woman can 
 be so useful and so happy." 
 
 The Avidow looked up suddenly as her 
 companion said this ; and there was such 
 an expression of pure wonder in her usually 
 quiet eye, that Mrs. Berrington felt con- 
 strained to say, somewhat anxiously, — 
 
 " Sm^ely, Mrs. Forrest, you must think 
 with me in this matter !" 
 
 The other had a momentary flush over 
 all her face; but, as this subsided, she said, 
 in her old, placid way — 
 
 " I am of opinion that usefulness and 
 happiness may accompany any state of life, 
 but that they are both more easy of attain- 
 ment to the single than to the married 
 woman." 
 
 ''Well, you certainly surprise me 
 greatly," replied Mrs. Berrington, and her 
 looks attested the truth of what she said ; 
 
 c 3
 
 34 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 
 
 but not being an argumentative person, 
 she suffered the subject to drop — only 
 observing, as a sort of sudden thought, 
 when she was going away — 
 
 " By the bye, my dear Mrs. Porrest, I 
 think it may be as well for you not to give 
 Theresa an unfavourable impression con- 
 cerning matrimony. She has such an un- 
 bounded admiration for you and all your 
 opinions, that I should quite despair of 
 ever eradicating any ideas she had ac- 
 quired from you." 
 
 ''It is a subject on which I never 
 willingly speak," said the widow quietly ; 
 '' and, if I mistake not"— with a momen- 
 tary smile — ''your daughter has already 
 begun to think for herself in this most 
 important matter." 
 
 "What! my Tessie?" exclaimed the 
 mother, with a little incredulous laugh. 
 " Oh no, there I know you are deceived ; 
 Theresa is a perfect child in every respect, 
 and has not a thought beyond her home 
 and its simple pleasures."
 
 THE student's WIFE. 35 
 
 " Then, long, ven^ long, may she con- 
 tinue so," replied Mrs. Forrest T^ith singu- 
 lar earnestness ; '' and Heaven forbid that 
 I should be the first to make her dream of 
 matrimony in any way whatever." 
 
 Mi's. Berrington appeared quite satisfied 
 now, and returned home to tell her hus- 
 band that she was thoroui^hlv convinced 
 their mysterious tenant had experienced 
 domestic trials of no common kind; and 
 that she verily believed Mrs. Forrest re- 
 garded matrimony as something too hor- 
 rible to be spoken of, except in the way 
 that children speak of spectres and hob- 
 goblins, hiding then* pale faces, and 
 shuddering in every fibre till the subject 
 is dismissed. 
 
 "Poor thing, poor thing!" said the 
 rector, absently, " I have no doubt she 
 will marrv as^ain." 
 
 '' Goodness, Dr. Berrington ! you must 
 surely be dreaming. Fancy Mrs. Forrest 
 marrvino? asrain !" 
 
 " Well, my dear, and why not ? Elder-
 
 36 THE STUDENT^S WIFE. 
 
 ton may become a very populous neigh- 
 bourhood yet. I think, indeed, the chances 
 are that it will." 
 
 " But, I cannot see, even if it should, 
 how that could influence Mrs. Porrest. 
 I did not mean that she would never have 
 a chance of changing her name ; because, 
 of course, she is yet quite young enough 
 to attract many middle-aged men. I 
 meant " 
 
 *' Yes, yes, my dear, good, sensible Jane, 
 I know precisely what you meant," inter- 
 rupted the rector, in rather an impatient 
 manner ; " but the fact is, I am not think- 
 ing of our excellent neighbour at this 
 moment. You may remember my men- 
 tioning to you, when I first proposed 
 building a house, another scheme that had 
 suggested itself to me as a means of insu- 
 ring an enlarged circle of acquaintance." 
 
 '' Certainly," said the w]fe, promptly ; 
 " I never forget anything you have once 
 spoken to me about. What was it, my 
 dear?"
 
 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 "Well, as we are alone, I Mill tell you 
 now. It was, and is — for I have at length 
 resolved upon carrying it into execution — 
 to receive a limited number of yoimg men 
 to read with me during the vacations — 
 not boys to teach, you understand ; but 
 young men, who will be glad to ruralise 
 for a few months, and keep up their 
 classics, instead of idling away their time 
 about town, and being a disgrace to theii- 
 friends, and a nuisance to everybody else. 
 I feel assured there are hundi^eds who Avill 
 gladly avail themselves of so favom-able an 
 opportunity for improvement and country 
 recreations. But you wish to offer some 
 remark, Mrs. Berrington.'' 
 
 "I really fear," said the attentive wife, 
 half timidly, and as if doubtful whether 
 she had a right to fear anytliing that her 
 husband did not fear, " that oiu' having 
 such a very pretty daughter at home would 
 make this plan an unwise one. You know 
 Theresa is now seventeen and a half, and 
 that she is more than commonly attractive.
 
 38 THE student's wife. 
 
 I am sure I cannot be called a foolish or a 
 nervous mother; but I certainly do not 
 quite like the idea of having young men 
 living in the house." 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! my dear," said the rector, 
 in rather a hastier tone than usual — for he 
 was not in the habit of meeting with do- 
 mestic opposition, even in the mildest 
 form. '^ Pooh, pooh ! do you suppose I 
 have not weighed all the pros and cons of 
 the case before mentioning it to you ? I 
 am quite aware that our little girl has a 
 face and figure that we need not be 
 ashamed of; but I am also aware that she 
 has one of the simplest and most innocent 
 minds that was ever given to a daughter 
 of Eve. Tessie would only laugh if any- 
 body talked love nonsense to her ; besides, 
 these young men are to be my companions 
 — not your's or your daughter's." 
 
 '' But we must see them daily, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 " At meal times, of course ; but unless 
 you give us much worse dinners than you
 
 THE student's WIFE. 39 
 
 are in the habit of doing, 111 answer for 
 my pupils being better occupied than in 
 making love to a silly little puss who has 
 never read a novel or a line of sentimental 
 poetry in her life." 
 
 Mrs. Eerrington, though far from insen- 
 sible to the implied compliment concern- 
 ing her domestic management, still looked 
 restless and uneasy; and her husband 
 perceiving this, grew a little firmer and 
 more authoritative in his manner, know- 
 ing, from experience, that argument would 
 be of no avail whatever, and that, if he 
 carried his point at all, it must be by 
 taking the highest ground, and assuming 
 resistance or opposition to be quite out of 
 the question. 
 
 It is but fair to state that the rector be- 
 lieved conscientiously in the safety and 
 wisdom of his plan. His love for Theresa 
 was quite as warm and tender as her 
 mother's could be; but it lacked, as a 
 father's affection generally does, that 
 watchfulness against evil — that anxiety to
 
 40 THE student's WIPE. 
 
 guard the beloved one from the very ap- 
 proach of danger which, perhaps, belongs, 
 in its most enlarged meaning, exclusively 
 to maternal instinct. 
 
 This little conjugal dispute terminated, 
 as similar differences in the rector's family 
 invariably did terminate — namely, in the 
 complete triumph of the clever and ener- 
 getic husband, and the grave, though good- 
 humoured, acquiescence of the affectionate 
 and yielding wife. 
 
 The former went away to his comfort- 
 able study, for the purpose of laying the 
 first stone of his new undertaking; and 
 the latter found temporary relief from her 
 very natural anxieties in considering which, 
 or how many, of her cherished cupboards 
 she could give up for the accommodation 
 of the yoimg gentlemen when they should 
 actually become domesticated in her hus- 
 band's house.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 On one of the loveliest evenings of that 
 lovely spring, when nature, tilled of keep- 
 ing jubilee during the livelong day, was 
 settling into her beautiful and dreamy rest, 
 the solitary tenant of Theresa Cottage sat 
 within its rustic porch, looking anxiously 
 and even nervously dovra the green lane, 
 wliich terminated in the high road leading 
 both to Elderton and the more distant 
 county toTNTi of Oxendean. 
 
 The lonely, friendless widow, who found 
 it almost too exciting for her shattered 
 nerves to receive a visit from the gentle- 
 manly rector or liis quiet wife, was now 
 evidently awaiting the arrival of some far 
 more important guest, whose anticipated 
 advent had power to flush deeply the pale 
 cheek of gentle Mrs. Porrest, and to change 
 her usual expression of profound serenity
 
 42 THE student's wipe. 
 
 into one of very decided and really painful 
 restlessness. I cannot better explain the 
 cause of all this than by laying before you 
 the letter which had arrived at Theresa 
 Cottage the preceding day. Here it is : — 
 
 " My dear Annie, 
 
 " You will start, I have no doubt, at seeing 
 yourself thus familiarly addressed in a hand that can 
 scarcely, after so many years, be familiar to you ; but 
 a few words will satisfy your curiosity and plead my 
 excuse. I am your old schoolfellow and friend, Lilla 
 Boyne — or, rather, Lilla Ashton now ; for, of course, I 
 made a fool of myself, like all the rest of us, and mar- 
 ried the very moment I had a chance of doing so. The 
 consequence of this insane act has been a nineteen 
 years' broiling beneath an eastern sun (for it was a 
 red coat and a pair of epaulets that won my marvel- 
 lously silly heart) ; and now that I have returned to 
 my native country, for the purpose of looking after 
 our only child, a daughter, who was sent home to be 
 educated, I find nearly all my old cronies dead or in 
 distant lands, and feel myself more lonely than the 
 individual who sold his own shadow to that black-coated 
 gentleman of whom you remember our respected pre- 
 ceptress used to speak so darkly and mysteriously. 
 Jesting apart, my dear friend, I am really dying to look 
 once again upon an old, familiar face ; and having, by
 
 THE student's WIFE. 43 
 
 the merest accident, discovered your present where- 
 abouts, I am on the point of starting for the outlandish 
 place you have chosen to dwell in. If I am right in my 
 reckoning, you may expect to see me sometime during 
 the day after this will reach you ; and, as I was never 
 famous for epistolary compositions, you will understand 
 why I leave all further particulars to be communicated 
 when we meet. Claiming your indulgence for the veiy 
 imceremonious manner in which I have presented my- 
 self to your notice, 
 
 " I remain, my dear Annie, 
 " Yours most sincerely and affectionately, 
 
 " LiLLA ASIITON." 
 
 The first emotion of which Mrs. Porrest 
 was conscious, after reading this singular 
 letter, was a decidedly unpleasant one — 
 a mingling of instinctive vexation and of 
 nervous dread at the thoughts of having 
 her quiet, monotonous life broken in upon 
 by an event equally unexpected and un- 
 wished for. The idea that she might be 
 questioned as to the past, that she might 
 be led to speak, even in the most general 
 manner, of those trials which night and day 
 she was struggling and praying to forget.
 
 44 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 was agonizing beyond expression to this 
 timid and nearly heart-broken woman. 
 
 All that day she was truly miserable, 
 and wandered up and down the house like 
 a troubled spirit, vainly trying to nerve 
 herself for the coming meeting. 
 
 An almost sleepless night made the 
 matter very little better; but on rising 
 and going into her pretty garden, the in- 
 fluences of the sweet flowers and the sing- 
 ing birds, and the pure, delicious atmos- 
 phere, went to her very heart, and calmed, 
 in a great measure, those terribly nervous 
 feelings which had been nearly insupport- 
 able on the previous day. 
 
 Towards evening, though still in an ex- 
 ceedingly restless and agitated state, Mrs. 
 Eorrest became partly reconciled to the 
 inevitable meeting with her early friend ; 
 and at the time when I have presented 
 her to your notice, sitting in the cottage 
 porch, and looking anxiously down the 
 green lane, her thoughts had wandered 
 from her own present sensations far, far
 
 THE STUDENT S WIPE. 45 
 
 back into the past, when she and Lilla 
 Bo}TLe were careless, happy gii'ls together 
 — when they had vowed eternal friendship 
 beneath the cedar on the old school lawn, 
 and believed that life could bring no 
 sweeter or more exciting hour than that. 
 
 But memorj^ had other scenes to exhibit 
 wherein this sudden friendship shone T\dth 
 a fainter light, and wherein the beautiful 
 and haughty Lilla had trampled on her 
 meeker companion and shaken the pure 
 faith which the latter had fondly believed 
 to be founded on a rock of adamant ; 
 scenes, too, wherein specious excuses had 
 been offered and hastv reconciliations 
 made, to be followed by fresh and more 
 provoking offences, and renewed — though 
 ever colder assurances of forgiveness — on 
 the part of the injured and oppressed. 
 
 But standing out prominently from all 
 earlier reminiscences was that of the fair 
 summer night which had preceded the last 
 parting of these so-called friends, ere they 
 went forth from the narrow world of
 
 46 THE student's wife. 
 
 school life into the wide and restless arena 
 of the great world of pleasure beyond — 
 went forth with what bright, hoping 
 hearts ! with what gay, careless, life- 
 enamoured spirits ! — Lilla Boyne in her 
 proud, stately beauty, and Annie Mervyn 
 in her exquisite prettiness, gentleness, and 
 timidity. 
 
 Yes, through the long vista of nearly 
 twenty years, the poor lonely widow saw 
 herself, as she had been at eighteen, as 
 distinctly as she saw fair Lilla Boyne, and 
 all the other thronging forms that made 
 up the scene on that bright summer's 
 night. 
 
 She saw the moonlighted lawn, and the 
 dear old spreading cedar, casting its heavy 
 shadows over the soft green turf, and the 
 clumps of arbutus and laurustinus shedding 
 their delicate perfumes on the sultry but 
 still most delicious air. All was delicious 
 in those early days ; and at this period of 
 delightful and bewildering excitement — 
 this precursor of that glorious liberty which
 
 THE student's WIFE. 47 
 
 should atone for ten thousand times the 
 thraldom of the years that had gone by — 
 was it strange that those young, hoping 
 hearts, should become intoxicated with 
 their o^vn happiness, and see enchantment 
 written on every flower that grew, and on 
 every wind that a\ hispered aroimd them ? 
 
 Poor, desolate, friendless woman ! press 
 those thin fingers tightly over those burn- 
 ing and brimming eyes ; but the visions 
 will not depart for tliis, nor yet for thy 
 weary sighs, nor for that terrible and suffo- 
 cating emotion which rises in the quivering 
 throat, and thi^eatens to have vent in a 
 loud cry of woe, that the solitary pillow 
 alone should be privileged to hear. 
 
 Fair, moving forms ; bright, glancing 
 eyes ; young, rosy cheeks ; and joyous 
 thrilling voices — there they all are ! And 
 music — quick, inspiring music — is floating 
 on the smnmer air ; and fairy feet are 
 gliding and springing over the rustling 
 grass ; and white arms are wreathing in 
 girlish tenderness and animation; and all
 
 48 THE student's wife. 
 
 is delicious gaiety, reckless excitement, and 
 enchanting hope. 
 
 Lilla Boyne and Annie Mervyn are the 
 patronesses of this farewell fete; and the 
 dancing over, how eagerly the rest of those 
 young, giddy creatures crowd round these 
 two envied beings, who on the morrow will 
 leave for ever that grey, neutral ground 
 between childhood and womanhood, to 
 emerge into the full, dazzling blaze of the 
 latter state, which must, of necessity, com- 
 prehend the realisation of every dream of 
 happiness that can suggest itself to the 
 human mind. 
 
 Poor, desolate, friendless woman! who 
 is that wild, laughing, Hebe girl, keeping 
 ever at your side, and seeming to glory in 
 the demonstrations of esteem and affection 
 that your approaching departure have 
 called forth from the thronging school 
 girls, and of which the haughty Lilla gets 
 a somewhat scantier share ? How is it 
 that one, who seemed to love and cling to 
 you so tenderly then, should have no part
 
 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 in your present sadness — should leave you 
 to suffer and to weep alone r 
 
 Ah ! you see, now, that light, bounding 
 form — you hear, now, that sweet, ringing 
 laugh — you can almost feel those losing 
 kisses upon yoiu* poor, quivering lips ; and 
 this is why the sob, so long repressed, 
 bursts forth, at last, with such wild 
 anguish, as you lean against the trellis 
 work of the rustic porch, and pray, silently, 
 but fervently, for grace to bear meekly 
 this bitter, bitter curse of memory ! — this 
 " sorrow's cro^^n of sorrow — remembering 
 happier things." 
 
 But, where is she — and where are they 
 all ? And what has become of those radiant 
 hopes — those sweet, sweet anticipations, 
 which made that summer's eve so bright, 
 and caused you to part with something of 
 the old affection, even from proud Li 11a 
 Bo^^le ; and to forgive freely every past 
 offence, in favoiu' of the new life and the 
 new joys that were opening before you 
 both ? 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 THE STUDENT S WIEE. 
 
 Poor, desolate, friendless woman ! Is that 
 far-off grave " so cold and deep," indeed 
 the dwelling place of merry, graceful, 
 loving Emily Mervyn — the dear, dear 
 sister of your happier years ? And are all 
 your old companions scattered over the 
 husy, restless world? And have the 
 cruel v»^inds — the cold, cold moaning winds 
 of earthly tribulation — taken away those 
 bright and glowing hopes which your 
 gentle, timid heart so fondly cherished ? 
 
 Weep on, then ; and press those thin 
 fingers tightly over those burning and 
 brimming eyes ; for, not yet will the grave 
 give up its dead; and not in this world 
 will the hopes of youth — those glorious 
 rainbow-tinted hopes — have a second birth. 
 Weep on, daughter of affliction ; but 
 forget not to mingle with thy weeping 
 prayer and self-abasement, that, at the 
 great harvest, thy lot may be amongst the 
 number of those who, having sown in 
 tears, shall reap in joy — joy unspeakable, 
 and full of glory.
 
 THE student's WIFE. 51 
 
 But, in my compassion for gentle Mrs. 
 Forrest, I have wandered from the present 
 scene, and presumed to glance into that 
 dread future, of which we know so little, and 
 should ever approach with such heartfelt 
 reverence and solemnity. Let me retrace 
 my steps. 
 
 The sun is fast sinking behind the dis- 
 tant hills ; the night breeze is beginning 
 to rustle gently amongst the garden trees ; 
 a few solitary birds are flying sAviftly to 
 their woodland homes ; and Mrs. Forrest 
 has mped away her rebellious tears, and 
 is moving slowly and wearily along the 
 gravelled path towards the gate which 
 opens on the lane. 
 
 She has heard the sound of distant car- 
 riage wheels ; and longing, now, only for 
 the meeting to be over, she makes one 
 mighty effort to nerve her poor, weak 
 spirit, and stands pale, mournful, but out- 
 wardly composed, in readiness to receive 
 and welcome her uninvited guest. 
 
 Wliat a strange contrast to the gay, 
 
 D 2 
 
 o„ OF ILL ua.
 
 52 THE student's wife. 
 
 smiling, youthful looking lady, who leans 
 from the window of her chaise, as it ap- 
 proaches the cottage gate, and evidently 
 fails to recognise, in the grief- worn woman 
 standing there, the blooming Annie 
 Mervyn, of her girlish days. 
 
 But Mrs. Porrest was prepared for this ; 
 and, when her elegant visitor, descending 
 from the carriage, advanced with some- 
 what hesitating steps, and inquired if she 
 was mistaken in believing that a lady of 
 the name of Eorrest resided there, the pale 
 widow held out her hand, and said, in a 
 firm voice — 
 
 " Lilla, I am Annie Porrest."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 They were seated, face to face, mthin the 
 parlour of the cottage ; they were looking 
 at each other earnestly and gravely. Even 
 the light, worldly Lilla Ashton was utterly 
 subdued for the moment by the striking 
 chancre in her earlv friend. Eor a minute 
 or so neither of them spoke. 
 
 But, presently, Mrs. Ashton rallied, and, 
 stretching out her hand, for the second 
 time, said, in a very soft and pleasing 
 voice — 
 
 " How foolish we both are. I cannot 
 imagine how I could have been such a 
 very goose as to expect to find you any- 
 thing like the Annie Mervyn I knew long 
 years ago. I am really unfeignedly glad 
 to renew our acquaintance ; and if we are 
 changed outwardly, that is no reason why 
 we should be so inwardly. I am quite
 
 54 THE student's wife. 
 
 aware that I look at least a hundred and 
 ninety-nine, myself; but, then, that Indian 
 climate is so cruelly destructive to the 
 complexion." 
 
 '' You are very little altered," said Mrs. 
 Eorrest, quietly, and beginning to recover 
 from her first emotion. 
 
 '' Oh, my dear creature, you only flatter 
 me, I am sure. Positively, I quite dread 
 going to the glass of a day ; but this is all 
 nonsense, when we must have such loads 
 and loads to talk about. How do you 
 think I found you out ?" 
 
 " I have no idea." 
 
 "Well, it was very funny; a complete 
 fatality, I am perfectly convinced. You 
 must know that my la^vyer married a 
 daughter, or a sister, or a grandmother, or 
 a something of your lawyer's. It couldn't 
 be a grandmother, by the bye, because 
 your lawyer is, himself, I believe, a man 
 of sixty, and mine is not more than thirty ; 
 but, at all events, it was a near relative, 
 and so the whole liistory came out one day
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 55 
 
 when I was inquiring' of my factotum — he 
 is such a clever creatm^e — whether he 
 knew anything of any of the old friends I 
 had left in England ? Of course, he told 
 me ahout your marriage, and that it was 
 suspected your Imshand had led you a 
 pretty life ; and that" 
 
 " I am a mdow, Lilla," interrupted 
 Mrs. Eorrest, in a tone of grave reproof, 
 while a strange trembling came suddenly 
 over all her frame. 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know that; hut do you 
 mean that I am ^^Tong in alluding to the 
 past ? Upon my word, I have forgotten 
 the ways of yoiu' Enghsh world ; and you 
 must forgive me if I offend unT\dttingly." 
 
 "Let me hear ahout yourself. Yours 
 has been a happy lot — to judge, at least, 
 by outward appearances ; and you have a 
 child." 
 
 " Well, about myself there is very little 
 to relate. I married young — for love, of 
 coiu-se ; though, fortimately, my husband 
 had a tolerable income even then. I
 
 56 THE student's wife. 
 
 accompanied him to India a few months 
 after our marriage, and there I have re- 
 mained quietly ever since; but Colonel 
 Ashton took it into his head to send me 
 off to see about Carry. So here I am; 
 and here I must abide patiently, until the 
 good ship Oriana — in which I have 
 secured my passage to Madras — shall be 
 ready to return thither." 
 
 " And your daughter goes with you, of 
 course?" 
 
 Mrs. Ashton uttered a little laugh as 
 she replied — 
 
 " No, indeed, she doesn't. Carry is the 
 oddest girl in all the world. She has 
 taken it into her old-fashioned head — upon 
 my word, that girl of mine has the notions 
 of a woman of ninety — she has positively 
 taken it into her ridiculous head, that a 
 young lady cannot go to India without 
 being supposed to want a husband. Colo- 
 nel Ashton wished me to give her a choice 
 in the matter, and Miss Carry has chosen 
 to remain in England."
 
 THE student's WIPE. 57 
 
 **It must be a severe trial to you to 
 leave her behind," Mrs. Forrest said. 
 
 A very slight suffusion came over the 
 other's cheek at this observation. She 
 was silent a moment, and then answered, 
 in rather a light, jesting tone — 
 
 " Oh ! I don't pretend to be violently 
 affected at it ; though, of course, I am not 
 blind to the absence of filial affection 
 which it manifests. The fact is. Carry 
 and I are nearly strangers to each other. 
 She left me before she was ten years old ; 
 and has, naturally, since then, received 
 her impressions from those amongst whom 
 she has been living." 
 
 "I think you said she had been at 
 school?" 
 
 "Yes, and a very excellent one I do 
 really believe; but there is, you know, 
 frequently, with these people — these keep- 
 ers of educational establishments — a nar- 
 rowness of mind that one would not desire 
 to find commim.icated to their pupils. I 
 am sm^e poor Carry is awfuUy prejudiced 
 and self-opiniated." d 3
 
 58 THE student's wife. 
 
 " She lias, of course, been with you 
 since your arrival in England ?" 
 
 " Not all the time ; for her ladyship pro- 
 fesses an abhorrence of fashionable society ; 
 and as I have been necessarily rather gay 
 myself, we did not get on quite comfort- 
 ably together." 
 
 " Yoti^ gay?" said Mrs. Porrest, in sur- 
 prise ; " I thought you said in your letter, 
 that you found yourself so terribly lonely." 
 
 Again Mrs. Ashton coloured, and this 
 time more perceptibly than before. 
 
 '^Oli!" she said, '' so I was, at particu- 
 lar seasons ; for, of course, there is little 
 real enjo^nnent in dissipation : by the bye, 
 I have got that Avord from Carry, I am 
 sure. But, as I was observing, there is 
 nothing in an endless round of parties, and 
 such like, that can satisfy the heart when 
 it is yearning for old associations, and all 
 that sort of thing. But, what was I going 
 to tell you ? Oh, I know, now. You re- 
 member Janet Lawrence, I suppose?" 
 
 "Perfectly. She made a love match
 
 THE student's WIFE. 59 
 
 before we left school, I have heard, and 
 has had many trials to encounter." 
 
 " Poor thing ! I dare say she has ; but 
 the elegant proverb of ' every dog has liis 
 day' has been recently verified in her case ; 
 for her husband, Mr. Singleton — through 
 the deaths of I don't know how many per- 
 sons — young, old, and middle-aged — has 
 come in, not only for an ancient baronetcy, 
 but a fortune of twelve thousand a year." 
 
 " Poor Janet ! what a great change for 
 her!" 
 
 *' Happy Janet, you should say ; for she 
 is, or ought to be, as happy as the day is 
 long. I liave seen her very often of late, 
 as they have taken a splendid town-house, 
 and are doing the thing in style, I can 
 assure you." 
 
 *' Is there a family ?" 
 
 *'That is just what I am coming to. 
 There is only one son, who has, of course, 
 gro\^^l suddenly into a person of consider- 
 able importance. He is somewhat of an 
 oddity, but quite a gentleman, and, his
 
 60 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 mother says, remarkably clever into the 
 bargain.^ Hitherto his education has been 
 rather desultory, owing to their straitened 
 means; and, I fancy, they are going to 
 send him to study with a clergyman, as he 
 declares loudly against the universities; 
 and he has been a bit of a spoiled child." 
 
 " How old is he now ?" 
 
 " Near about three and twenty, I think ; 
 but he looks ten years more. One of the 
 steady ones, you see, and almost as old 
 fashioned in his tastes and notions as my 
 Carry." 
 
 "They agree well, then, I suppose." 
 
 Mrs. Ashton began to evince great in- 
 terest in the subject she had selected to 
 talk upon. She settled herself more com- 
 fortably in her easy chair, drew the foot- 
 stool closer to her feet, and replied, in 
 quite an affectionately confidential tone — 
 
 ** Why, they have never met, at present ; 
 but the truth is — you see I cannot be re- 
 served with an old and dear friend like 
 yourself; — the truth is, both Lady Single-
 
 THE STUDENT'S WIPE. 61 
 
 ton — that is, Janet — and myself, think it 
 would be an excellent thing to make a 
 match between them. Lawrence Single- 
 ton has quite an aversion to our sex, and 
 was never known to pay a girl a compli- 
 ment in his life. This did not much sig- 
 nify as long as he remained a poor and 
 obscure student ; but now that he is heir 
 to a baronetcy and twelve thousand a year, 
 his mother is in despau' about him ; and 
 one day when I was speaking of Carry, it 
 suddenly occurred to her that, if they 
 could be throT\TL together, La^^Tence 
 might come to think differently concern- 
 ing matrimony.'* 
 
 Mrs. Porrest looked grave, but offered 
 no remark ; and, presently, the other con- 
 tinued — 
 
 '*We fancied, at first, that this would 
 be of easy accomplishment, as Janet pro- 
 posed taking Carry to live with her until I 
 return again to England ; but when I 
 mentioned the plan to that T\ilful daughter 
 of mine, she said, shortly — * Mamma, I hate
 
 62 THE STUDENT'S WIFE. 
 
 Londoiij and the sort of life these Single- 
 tons are leading. Let me go to some 
 qniet family in the country, and I ask 
 nothing else.' Of course, I remonstrated, 
 argued, and pleaded, hut it was all in vain ; 
 for though Caroline professed her willing- 
 ness to ohey any command of her mother's, 
 she stated, in such forcible terms, her ob- 
 jection to a London life, that I really had 
 not the heart to act in complete opposition 
 to her mshes." 
 
 " I think you did rightly and kindly," 
 said Mrs. Porrest ; "hut, surely, your 
 daughter's taste is singular, in a young 
 and, doubtless, a pretty girl." 
 
 "Well, I do not call Carry a pretty 
 girl," replied the mother; "she is rather 
 elegant, perhaps, but her face wants 
 animation and colour. There is nothing 
 brilliant or striking about her. Still, I agree 
 with you that it is a very extraordinary 
 taste, this decided preference for the stupid, 
 monotonous country. By the bye, how on 
 earth came you to settle do^vn in such
 
 THE STUDENT'S WIFE. 63 
 
 an isolated, out-of-the-way, ultra-romantic 
 sort of place ?" 
 
 " It suits me, now, perfectly," said Mrs. 
 Porrest ; " for I have lived long enough to 
 discover that there are no blessings to be 
 compared to peace and tranquillity. All I 
 crave at present is, complete immunity 
 from excitement or change of any kind; 
 and, I believe" — ^ith a very mournful 
 smile — " that I may reckon on thus much 
 from destiny ; for lam alone in the loorld^ 
 
 Mrs. Ashton did not notice the sudden 
 pallor that overspread her companion's 
 face at these words. It was e^ddent, 
 indeed, that her thoughts were wholly en- 
 grossed by interests of her ot\ti, and that she 
 had few sympathies to spare for the sor- 
 rows of her dear old friend, whom, never- 
 theless, she had made this long, trouble- 
 some, and expensive journey to see. Mrs. 
 Porrest was startled from some such re- 
 flections as these by her guest saying, 
 abruptly, as if in answer to her last obser- 
 vation — although there had been a pause
 
 64 THE STUDENT'S WIFE. 
 
 of several minutes between — " What, then, 
 has become of your sister Emily ? Has 
 she, too, married, and gone far away?'* 
 
 " She died, five years ago," replied Mrs. 
 Forrest, with tears raining, now, down her 
 pale, thin cheeks. 
 
 '' Bless me, you don't say so ! That 
 gay, pretty, charming creature, whom 
 everybody blamed, and everybody loved ! 
 How well I can remember her on the 
 evening of our farewell fete ! Yours and 
 mine, Annie — when she dressed up as an 
 old gipsey, and told all our fortunes for us, 
 making yom's the brightest and the sun- 
 niest amongst the whole. Ah, well, those 
 were foolish, but very happy days. Hope 
 is, after all, so much sweeter than reality ; 
 but, my dear friend, I am distressing you 
 by this silly babble. Let us talk of some- 
 thing else." 
 
 " No, no, Lilla !" said Mrs. Eorrest, in a 
 choking voice, '' I have shunned, too long, 
 every allusion to past days and events.
 
 65 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 
 
 My heart cannot be the heavier for giving 
 a voice to the dark thoughts that hannt 
 me, both in my waking and my sleeping 
 hours. I will tell you, at least, about poor 
 Emily, whose days were, indeed, few and 
 evil ; and who is now sleeping in a far-off, 
 lonely spot, where neither sorrow nor joy 
 can ever reach her imiocent, loving heart 
 again." 
 
 Mrs. Ashton immediately assumed a 
 subdued and attentive look; while her 
 agitated companion continued — 
 
 " You may have heard that Emmy came 
 to live with me when I married, as our 
 guardian wanted to travel, and was very 
 glad to get rid of her. In less than a year 
 she formed an attachment to a young, 
 giddy Irishman, who had run through a 
 large fortmie, and was entirely dependent 
 on a rich old uncle, li^Tiig, alone, in the 
 extreme north of Ireland, and reputed to 
 be as capricious as the ^dnd. They mar- 
 ried, however ; and, full of love and 
 romance, started for the residence of this
 
 66 THE student's wiee. 
 
 elderly gentleman, who, according to their 
 expectations, was to settle a handsome 
 annuity upon them for life. The result 
 proved how far they had been in error ; for 
 Mr. Mahon, a confirmed bachelor himself, 
 had no sympathy with lovers; and, 
 instead of increasing his nephew's allow- 
 ance, he withdrew all that he had pre- 
 viously bestowed on him, and the young, 
 ignorant, thoughtless creatures were left 
 to fight their way in the world on poor 
 Emily's pittance of a hundred and twenty 
 pounds a year. But this — though bad 
 enough — was far from the worst part of 
 the case; for the husband's affections 
 speedily withered, in the keen air of 
 poverty and privation ; he grew morose, 
 and even cruel to my poor, patient sister, 
 who sank, at last, under the accumulated 
 trials that she was forced to encounter. 
 Previous to this, however, she had given 
 birth to a boy, whose arrival softened, in 
 some measure, the hard heart of the old 
 uncle : for, from that time, he allowed
 
 THE student's WIFE. 67 
 
 them a trifling sum which, by the poor 
 young mother's management, sufficed to 
 maintain themselves and child in tolerable 
 comfort and respectability. For a few 
 years, therefore, they did pretty well, as to 
 outward circumstances; but as the boy 
 grew up, he manifested such tokens of 
 recklessness and extravagance, such utter 
 want of thought, and such a decided taste 
 for all the expensive pleasures in which 
 his father had indulged, that my sister 
 lost all heart, and ceased, I believe, to 
 struggle any longer Av-itli her destiny. At 
 any rate, she died when Philip was about 
 seventeen, and before she had been able to 
 persuade him to settle steadily to any piu'- 
 suit or occupation. It is from her letters 
 that I have gathered all I have now told 
 you, except the fact of Philip's wildness ; 
 for she — poor thing ! — always wrote of 
 him in terms of boundless adoration ; and 
 the utmost extent of her condemnation 
 consisted in the expression of a wish, that 
 her beloved Philip had been bom in a
 
 68 THE student's wife. 
 
 higher rank, as he seemed quite unable to 
 comprehend the necessity of restraining 
 his natural tastes and inclinations. 
 
 " After her death, the uncle adopted his 
 grandnephew, leaving the father to provide 
 for himself as he could ; but I have heard 
 that Philip sent him constant, though 
 secret supplies, while he lived ; and, in his 
 last illness, returned to him, and did all 
 that filial duty could do to lighten those 
 suflPerings which folly and dissipation had 
 occasioned.'' 
 
 '* This young man cannot be so bad, then, 
 after all. I presume he is living still." 
 
 "Yes; and it is supposed he will in- 
 herit all Mr. Mahon's wealth. The latter, 
 however, is, as I before said, extremely 
 capricious ; and he has favoured me with 
 one or two communications, complaining 
 bitterly of the trouble he has with Philip ; 
 and giving, indeed, such an account of the 
 young man, that I should wonder at his 
 bearing with him at all, had I not heard 
 that my nephew has a strange sort of
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 69 
 
 fascination about him, which few have 
 ever been able to resist." 
 
 " Then, you have not yet seen him your- 
 self?" 
 
 *' Oh, no ; nor is it very likely that I 
 shall do so now. And, truly speaking, I 
 am not — in spite of much good that is 
 spoken of him — greatly prej)ossessed in his 
 favour; for, I cannot help connecting his 
 ^\'ildness and thoughtlessness, in some 
 measure, ^ith my sweet sister's early 
 death; and, Lilla, you know how dearly 
 and entu-ely we loved each other." 
 
 Mrs. Forrest paused here, from excess 
 of emotion, and presently her companion 
 said — 
 
 " Did you see much of poor Emily after 
 her marriage?" 
 
 " I never saw her after she left me," 
 was the tremulous reply. " But wlien I 
 became free I visited her grave; and 
 heard all about her husband and Philip 
 from an old woman who had lived with 
 her as servant until she died."
 
 70 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 ** It is very, very sad," said Mrs. Asli- 
 ton; "but life is full of such histories; 
 and the secluded existence you are leading 
 nourishes vain regrets, and indisposes you 
 to appreciate the blessings still remaining 
 to you" 
 
 " Pardon me," interrupted the widow, 
 with singular earnestness. '' I am sure no 
 human being ever appreciated the perfec- 
 tion of earthly happiness as I appreciate 
 the one solitary blessing which I now en- 
 joy — that of rest, mental rest — Lilla ; 
 which, to you, and to all who dance and 
 smile through life, has no meaning beyond 
 listless inanity and insupportable dul- 
 ness." 
 
 ''Well, I confess, I am not quite pre- 
 pared, at present, to establish myself in a 
 hermit's cell; but, at the same time, you 
 must not fancy that there are no stum- 
 bling blocks in my path. Now, that tire- 
 some young person I have the honour of 
 calling daughter is, I assure you, a source 
 of infinite trouble to me just now, when I
 
 THE student's WIFE. 71 
 
 have so many preparations to make for my 
 own return to India. AAliere, on earth, 
 am I to look for a quiet family who will 
 be disposed to receive, as inmate, a perfect 
 stranger ; and one, too, who has such old- 
 fashioned and ^^>^juvenile v\'ays and no- 
 tions." 
 
 '' Surely, your factotum, as you call him, 
 might assist you here!" suggested Mrs. 
 Forrest, hopelessly blind to the di'ift of 
 her companion's confidences. 
 
 A very charming and playful smile, 
 Avliich concealed pretty well an irresistible 
 wrinkling of Mrs. Ashton's polished fore- 
 head, was, for a few seconds, the only reply 
 to this; but presently she said — still smiling 
 most bewitchingly — 
 
 '^ How very odd, now, that you should 
 have referred me, as it Avere, to this really 
 invaluable individual ; because, when I 
 mentioned the subject to him, what do 
 you suppose he answered? You cannot 
 guess, of com'se, so I must tell you. He 
 actually wanted me to to ask you to receive
 
 72 THE student's wife. 
 
 Carry; and, to tell you the truth I was 
 so charmed with the idea that I have 
 thought of nothing else ever since. Of 
 course I was ignorant of your desire for 
 complete solitude. But oh, my dear, dear 
 friend ! if I could persuade you, for the 
 sake of old times and our once ardent 
 friendship, to receive my girl, I should 
 he lightened of such a load of anxiety, and 
 consider myself your debtor for ever and 
 for ever." 
 
 Mrs. Ashton spoke with a very graceful 
 earnestness, and at the last words clasped 
 her white hands, and looked up beseechingly 
 to the changing and troubled countenance 
 of her grave hostess, Avho as soon as she 
 could find voice to speak, replied — 
 
 " Are you really serious, Lilla ? Do you 
 really know what you are asking ?" 
 
 "Serious! good heavens! why should I be 
 otherwise than serious?" — with a moment- 
 ary irritation of manner. '' There is, surely, 
 nothing so very out of nature in one friend 
 begging another to receive her daughter
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 73 
 
 for a few years. Colonel Ashton is a liberal 
 raan ; and, as far as regards the pecuniary 
 part of the business, I am quite sure there 
 need be no difficulty. But" — 
 
 "Lilla, you should have knoTVTi me 
 better," interrupted Mrs. Eorrest, with 
 a deep, indignant flush. *' I tliink you 
 do know me better, and that this insinuation 
 has its source in some other feeling than 
 injustice ; I scarcely understand you even 
 now. Tell me, distinctly, what you wish 
 me to do." 
 
 The beautiful guest pushed back her 
 chair with manifest impatience, looked as 
 if she thought her companion more than 
 half a fool, and finally said, in rather a 
 modulated voice — 
 
 ^* My dear creature, I am in despair at 
 having wounded your feelings ; but, upon 
 my honour, no living being, except your- 
 self, would have been displeased at my 
 allusion to money matters. I dare say it 
 was shockingly vulgar and commonplace, 
 but so is the world we live in — so am I 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 THE student's wife. 
 
 myself; and it is just because you are of 
 a finer and a rarer genus, that I feel per- 
 suaded Carry and you would agree a 
 merveille. What do you say now — ^may 
 I bring her to you next week ?" 
 
 Poor Mrs. Porrest raised one hand, 
 and pressed it tightly against her forehead, 
 while she gazed into the eager countenance 
 of her companion, with a perplexity that 
 would have been ludicrous, but for its too 
 evident sincerity and an accompaniment 
 of painful embarrassment, which compelled 
 compassion for the tender-hearted, sorrow 
 stricken woman, thus strongly urged to 
 abandon the dearly bought repose she 
 valued above all earth's precious gifts, 
 and for the attainment of which, her 
 very soul bowed itself in gratitude and 
 praise to Heaven each day that rose, and 
 each night that set, upon her little quiet 
 world. 
 
 ''Lilla, you know not what you ask," 
 she said again, after a prolonged and 
 uncomfortable pause. "Your daughter
 
 THE student's WIFE. 75 
 
 would pine to death in such a place as 
 this, and with no companion but myself. 
 Besides, what should I do with her — how 
 amuse her — how make life even tolerable 
 to a young, joyous gu'l ? No, no, Mrs. 
 Ashton. Lilla, do not spr^ak of this 
 matter any more. It would not do; I 
 know it would not do." 
 
 Lilla Ashton was a shrewd woman, 
 though not a very imaginative one. She 
 saw that her old friend was shaken — that 
 her gentle mind vibrated between its 
 yearning for repose and solitude, and its 
 natural tendency to yield in all things to 
 the will of others. It was cruel, under 
 such circumstances, to press the subject. 
 But Mrs. Ashton had no inconvenient 
 scruples or sensibilities ; she had set her 
 heart upon getting Carry to Elderton, 
 and it was of small consequence to her 
 that the agents she employed should suffer 
 distress or annoyance in the accomplish- 
 ment of this cherished object. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Porrest was like a bird in the
 
 76 THE student's wife. 
 
 snare of the fowler ; and though she 
 strusro^led and fluttered — almost wildly — 
 for a hrief sj)ace, the end was no less sure ; 
 the beautiful Mrs. Ashton was none the 
 less victorious over her meek and unselfish 
 friend. 
 
 It is true that nothins^ definite was de- 
 cided that nisrht. But the lonely widow 
 had consented to think the matter over; 
 and her dreams were full of new and be- 
 wildering and heart- sickening excitements, 
 in which Caroline Ashton played the most 
 conspicuous part, while the night-yisions 
 of Caroline's mother were all bright and 
 rosy-hued, and comjorehended subjects 
 which it would be anticipating too much 
 to imfold to the reader at present.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Hostess and guest sat side by side at the 
 breakfiast table the next morning, in the 
 pleasant little parlour of Theresa Cottage, 
 The pretty French windows, bordered with 
 stained glass, were opened to admit the 
 pure, refreshing breeze, and the perfume 
 of the sweet flowers — now in their fairest 
 summer beauty — and the sound of sum- 
 mer's thousand humming voices, which, to 
 gentle ^3J>s. Forrest seemed ever to convey 
 messages of that i>eace and rest her poor 
 torn heart cherished as its dearest treasures. 
 Even !Mrs. Ashton was not insensible to 
 the quiet loveliness of the scene, and, after 
 discussing a dish of tempting strawberries 
 — ^which the rector's daughter had thought- 
 fuDv sent down to srraee her friend's break- 
 fiast table — the smiling lilla drew her chair
 
 78 THE student's wife. 
 
 a little nearer to tlie window, and said, in 
 her winning voice, — 
 
 " Well, really, this is a miniature para- 
 dise. I can no longer wonder at your 
 choice of a home, and I declare I shall 
 quite envy Carry becoming domesticated 
 in such an enchanting spot. The very 
 sight of it is enough to make one forswear 
 the world for ever ; hut it is only widows 
 (liappy creatures !) who have the power of 
 following their own inclinations and de- 
 ciding upon their own localities. By the 
 bye, Annie, it must cost you a fortune to 
 keep that garden in such exquisite order." 
 
 " It would cost me much more than it 
 does, hut for the kindness of my landlord's 
 daughter, who generally comes twice or 
 thrice a week to look after the flowers and 
 to scold my poor Susan about the weeds. 
 This is one of Theresa's usual days, and, if 
 you can stay long enough, you will see as 
 pretty a little creature as may be found in 
 any part of the United Kingdom." 
 
 '' Oh, I am no great admirer of rustic
 
 THE student's WIFE. 79 
 
 beauty," replied the handsome guest, rather 
 shortly, and with a curl of the lip which 
 ought to have proved to Mrs. Forrest the 
 extreme stupidity she had been guilty of 
 in speaking to an acknowledged beauty 
 of the personal attractions of any other 
 created being under the sun. But, alas ! 
 poor Mrs. Forrest was lamentably deficient 
 in all kinds of worldly wisdom ; so, instead 
 of abandoning the subject, or beginning to 
 temper her praise of Theresa, -she said, 
 quite earnestly, — 
 
 " Oh, but my little gardener is no rustic 
 damsel. She is our rector's daughter, and 
 endowed, if I mistake not, with more 
 than a common share of refinement and 
 sensibility." 
 
 " What rector, what rector, for goodness' 
 sake?" exclaimed the suddenly animated 
 listener. '* Not the man who holds the 
 living of Elderton: he has no grown-up 
 family, surely ?" 
 
 " He has one daughter — my little friend 
 Theresa," replied Mrs. Porrest. ''But is
 
 80 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 Dr. Berrington, then, an acquaintance of 
 yours ?" 
 
 " Oh dear, no," said the other, resuming 
 her former manner ; " hut I have heard 
 his name once or twice, and I fancied 
 somebody had said that he had only one 
 little girl, quite a child. But I have such 
 a wretched memory for things that do not 
 particularly interest me. And so Miss 
 Berrington is a beauty, is she ?" 
 
 " I should rather call her pretty," said 
 Mrs. Porrest, with a puzzled smile, which 
 the contradictory statements of her guest 
 had excited : " hut, as you will probably 
 see her in a few minutes, it vfould be a 
 superfluous waste of words to describe 
 her minutely. Tell me something further 
 about your daughter instead. If Miss 
 Ashton is really to be placed under my 
 charge, I should wish to know enough of 
 her tastes and disposition as will enable 
 me, at least, not to run counter to them 
 in any way." 
 
 " My dear friend," answered the mother,
 
 THE student's WIFE. 81 
 
 with an irritation which she tried in vain 
 to conceal, under a jesting manner, " have 
 I not assured you that Caroline Ashton is 
 a sealed book to me at present ? I know 
 only that she hates London and fashion- 
 able people, and gaiety of every description. 
 What she loves — if her natiu^e is capable 
 of such a passion — I have yet to learn. 
 But, for the rest, I will desh^e Mrs. Lumley 
 — Carry's governess — to send you forth- 
 with a written character of your future 
 guest. This will remove all your scruples; 
 for the dear old lady raves about the girl 
 she has educated." 
 
 "It is not on my o^ati account that I 
 am anxious," began Mrs. Eorrest, scarcely 
 knowing whether this was said seriously or 
 not; but the other quickly interrupted 
 her — 
 
 " No, no ; I understand everything, and 
 that you really are the kindest and most 
 disinterested creature in the universe ; but 
 you shall have the character for all that. 
 There was a ring at the bell just now. 
 
 E 3
 
 82 THE student's wipe. 
 
 Will that be your pretty friend, or my 
 carriage I wonder?" 
 
 "It is Theresa," said Mrs. Eorrest, ap- 
 proaching the open window. " I am glad 
 you will have an opportunity of seeing my 
 little favourite." 
 
 In another minute Theresa was in the 
 room, looking as fresh and as pretty as the 
 rosebuds she carried in her hand, and 
 blushing beautifully at the presence of the 
 stylish and haughty stranger, who, with a 
 cruel disregard of the poor child's feelings, 
 scanned her from head to foot, and ac- 
 knowledged Mrs. Eorrest's introduction by 
 a little patronising nod, which — whatever 
 might have been its object — made a very 
 disagreeable impression on the rector's 
 daughter, and caused her natural shyness 
 to increase rather than diminish, and her 
 usual unaffected grace of manner to be- 
 come constrained and awkward in a most 
 painful degree. 
 
 Mrs. Eorrest saw all this, and regretted 
 sincerely that her young friend had been
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 83 
 
 exposed to such a strange reception from 
 one whose intercourse with the world 
 should have taught her courtesy, even if 
 good feeling failed in suggesting it. But 
 it was quite clear now that Lilla Ashton 
 had not cast off the unaniiahle defects of 
 Lilla Boyne ; and the gentle, peace-lo\ing 
 widow had an inward trembling, in reflect- 
 ing that her word had gone forth to be- 
 come the guardian — the second mother, 
 indeed — of this woman's daughter. 
 
 Theresa lingered a few minutes arrang- 
 ing the flowers she had brought in some 
 vases on the table, and then went out of 
 the room to take off her bonnet and shawl. 
 
 Mrs. Eorrest was too much annoyed 
 with her gtiest to speak iimnediately ; but 
 she was thinking of asking the latter for 
 an explanation of her odd manner to Miss 
 Berrington, when Lilla rose from her seat 
 and said, carelessly — 
 
 " A perfect child of nature, this protege 
 of yours, Annie. "\Yhat a pity it is, for 
 the veracity of poets and romancers, that
 
 84 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 uncultivated nature should be so peculiarly 
 graceless." 
 
 " You do not admire Theresa, then ?" 
 
 "]^ot in her present crude state, cer- 
 tainly. What she might become, if re- 
 modelled by society and art, I do not pre- 
 sume to determine. The girl has a fine 
 complexion ; and with men, I believe, that 
 goes a great way. But there comes my 
 carriage now, so we must defer our discus- 
 sion until I bring Carry to Elderton." 
 
 Mrs. Porrest made no remark on this. 
 She bade her old friend good bye with 
 politeness, but without cordiality; and 
 after receiving the last finished bow and 
 smile of the elegant Lilla Ashton, turned, 
 with a feeling of strange refreshment, to 
 the simple, "uncultivated nature" of The- 
 resa Berrington, who could not forbear a 
 sigh of relief as the carriage rolled from 
 the garden gate, and every trace of her 
 beloved Mrs. Porrest's school-fellow dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 " Well, Theresa — and what do you think
 
 THE STUDENT S WIPE. 85 
 
 of my fine visitor ? Was she not well 
 worthy of those beautiful strawberries 
 that, I am sure, you rose an hour earlier 
 than usual to pick ?" 
 
 Mrs. Porrest said this with a smile that 
 was intended to dissipate the unwonted 
 gravity of her favourite ; but some seconds 
 elapsed before the latter raised her thought- 
 ful little face and replied — 
 
 " I never knew till now the meaning of 
 an antipathy — at least, of taking an anti- 
 pathy to a person at first sight. Oh ! my 
 dearest Mrs. Porrest, you will think me 
 very unamiable ; but I really do hope I 
 may never see that lady again. There 
 was something quite oppressive, almost ter- 
 rifying, in the way she looked at me." 
 
 " She always was, and always will be, 
 incomprehensible to me," Mrs. Forrest 
 answered : '' but we are not going to talk, 
 or think either, about her at present. 
 What has my little friend been doing with 
 herself since we last met ?" 
 
 " Oh, we have been so busy — mamma
 
 86 THE student's wife. 
 
 and I" — said Theresa, resuming her usual 
 eheerfuhiess. " Did I not tell you, some 
 time ago, that papa intended taking a few 
 pupils, or, at least, young men, to read 
 with him ? Well, he has just made ar- 
 rangements for receiving one who, I 
 believe, is to remain with us several 
 months. His relatives reside in London, 
 and he mil come to Elderton at the end 
 of this week." 
 
 " And are you pleased, my dear, at the 
 thoughts of this addition to your family 
 circle ?" asked Mrs. Porrest, contemplating 
 with some anxiety the fair, innocent face 
 that was looking up into her o^vn. 
 
 " I think I must own that I am," was 
 Theresa's ingenuous reply; "for although 
 I am perfectly happy at home, it is 
 natural, you know, to wish for a little 
 variety sometimes ; and should our new 
 inmate be an agreeable person, it will cer- 
 tainly add to our enjoyment — ^to yours, 
 too, I hope, dear Mrs. Porrest, for we 
 must all cling closely together and form a 
 united, cheerful, and happy little band."
 
 THE student's WIFE. 87 
 
 The widow sighed deeply, while she con- 
 tinued looking earnestly at her young 
 companion. 
 
 "What makes you sigh?" asked the 
 latter ; '' you will not surely shun all inno- 
 cent amusements for ever ; for my sake 
 you will occasionally come amongst us ?" 
 
 " I was not thinking of myself then, 
 Theresa," said Mrs. Porrest, very seriously. 
 ''Your words, my child, occasioned the 
 sigh that trouhled you. Dear Theresa, 
 why cannot you he contented with perfect 
 happiness — why should you desire anything 
 beyond ?" 
 
 Theresa blushed a little and looked dowTL 
 upon the carpet. Presently she said — ■ 
 
 "I do not exactly desire anything more 
 than I possess; but if it comes without 
 effort of my own, you cannot blame me for 
 feeling pleased." 
 
 " I do not blame you, Theresa ; I only 
 regret that you should be conscious of a 
 want in the midst of so much happiness. 
 Eve was perfectly happy in Paradise ; but
 
 88 THE student's wipe. 
 
 in striying after something more — some- 
 tiling as yet unknown — she lost her bright 
 inheritance of bliss, and was doomed 
 thenceforth to wander in a cold, ungenial, 
 and sin-defiled world." 
 
 " Dearest Mrs. Porrest, you are certainly 
 taking a strangely exaggerated view of my 
 present feeling. The forbidden fruit must 
 have been infinitely more important than 
 a new acquaintance, or companion even. 
 There is nothing sinful, at least, in wishing 
 for the latter, and it was sin that banished 
 our first parents from Paradise." 
 
 " Yes, dear child, and heaven forbid that 
 any act of yours should ever drive you 
 from the paradise of a happy home. Oh 
 Theresa, beware of looking beyond the 
 present — of indulging in visionary hopes, 
 whose fulfilment is dependent on any 
 created being. Keep your own heart pure 
 and free, hold constant communion with 
 your Maker, and be thankful for the pre- 
 sent peaceful lot a merciful Providence has 
 assigned you. Now come with me into the
 
 THE student's WIFE. 89 
 
 garden, my dear, and let the flowers and 
 the birds preach T^isdom and contentment 
 to both of us." 
 
 After a long day of quiet, rational enjoy- 
 ment, Theresa prepared to hid her kind 
 friend good-bye ; and it was then that 
 Mrs. Forrest said to her — 
 
 '* I, too, have some news to communi- 
 cate to you, Theresa; I, too, have the 
 prospect of a new inmate, who T^ill, pro- 
 bably, form an agreeable addition to the 
 limited society of our tillage. Xow, see if 
 you can guess who the solitary old woman 
 is likely to entertain ?" 
 
 Theresa was all astonishment and curi- 
 osity. She thought Mrs. Porrest had no 
 living relatives, that she preferred soli- 
 tude ; and that she was the last person in 
 the world to have any sudden caprices. 
 At length an idea occurred to her, and she 
 said, eagerly — 
 
 '' Oh ! surely it cannot be that Mrs. 
 Ashton ? She is so very, very different 
 from you."
 
 90 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 " No, Theresa ; but it is Mrs. Ashton's 
 daughter, a young lady of whom I never 
 heard till yesterday ; and whose entertain- 
 ment I intend trusting, in a great mea- 
 sure, to my amiable little friend beside 
 me. Now, I have given you a subject 
 that may divide your thoughts with your 
 own future guest; so good night, dear 
 child, and do not forget all that is ex- 
 pected of you." 
 
 "But your news is charming," replied 
 Theresa, with much animation. "Our 
 numbers are indeed increasing rapidly, 
 and a young lady was just what we 
 wanted. I wonder how old she is, and 
 what she is like. Do you know her 
 christian name, dear Mrs. Porrest?" 
 
 " Yes, it is ' Caroline ;' and, by the 
 bye, you have not yet told me the name 
 of your father's new pupil; and I'll 
 answer for it you have it at your tongue's 
 end." 
 
 " It is Singleton — Lawrence Singleton," 
 was the smiling reply. " But there is
 
 THE student's WIFE. 91 
 
 papa waiting for me at the gate, so good 
 bye, dearest Mrs. Forrest. I shall see 
 you again very soon." 
 
 Mrs. Forrest did not attempt to stop 
 her young friend to ask for any explana- 
 tions. Thought is very rapid, and long 
 before Theresa had taken her father's 
 arm, and begun her homeward walk, the 
 friendless widow had unravelled Mrs. 
 Ashton's scheme, and accorded to her 
 old schoolfellow's manoeuvering the exact 
 amount of admiration it merited.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 EoTJR days later, the two following letters 
 arrived at Theresa Cottage. One was 
 from Mrs. Ashton, and ran thus : — 
 
 " My dearest friend, — 
 
 *^I have only a single spare 
 moment in which to tell you that I find 
 it quite impossible to bring Carry to 
 Elderton myself, and that, therefore, she 
 will travel as far as Oxendean, under 
 the charge of a respectable person, who 
 happens to be going to that place, and 
 from thence, find her way alone to your 
 little rural, but most charming retreat. 
 
 " I have desired Mrs. Lumley to write 
 to you with full particulars, and I have 
 no doubt that you and my daughter will 
 get on admirably together. I shall en-
 
 THE student's WIFE. 93 
 
 deavour to snatch another moment before 
 I embark, to indnlge in a little epistolary 
 chat with you, and, eii attendant, 
 
 " Believe me ahvays, 
 " Your sincere friend and well wisher, 
 
 "• LiLLA ASHTON. 
 
 " P.S. — I fancy Carry will make her 
 appearance the beginning of the coming 
 AYcek." 
 
 The other letter was from Mrs. Lumley, 
 and these were its contents : — 
 
 "• Eairfield House, 
 " Madam, — 
 
 " Kensington. 
 
 " I am requested by Mrs. 
 Ashton to forward to you my candid 
 opinion of the character, disposition, and 
 conduct of my late pupil. Miss Caroline 
 Ashton ; and I can do this with the most 
 heartfelt pleasure, inasmuch as my im.-
 
 94 THE student's wife. 
 
 pression of the young lady is a decidedly 
 favourable one, and one founded on a ten 
 years' intimate acquaintance. 
 
 " I should mention, in the first place, that 
 Miss Ashton possesses a very extraordi- 
 nary development of the organ of ' order.' 
 This, combined vnth a natural delicacy of 
 taste and refinement of feeling, produces 
 a most harmonious effect, which may be 
 seen shining through her whole character 
 and conduct. Next to order, I am of opi- 
 nion that the organ of 'concentrativeness' 
 is the most largely developed ; and this 
 shows itself chiefly in a very becoming 
 contempt for the trivialities of life, and a 
 constant desire, on Miss Ashton' s part, to 
 expend her really remarkable energies on 
 some one distinct and worthy object. 
 
 * Imagination,' ' wonder,' ' self-esteem,' and 
 
 * love of approbation,' may, I believe, be 
 ranked as next in succession. * Veneration' 
 and ' benevolence' are both moderately de- 
 veloped ; as, also, the organs of ' form,' 
 ' harmony,' &c., Slq*
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 95 
 
 '' 'My Toung friend has not, I rejoice to 
 say, neglected the advantages bestowed 
 on her by a lengthened sojourn under my 
 roof, of cultivating, to a very fair extent, 
 the various talents with which nature has 
 gifted her; and I flatter myself that, 
 wheresoever placed, my esteemed pupil 
 will be found a charming companion, a 
 consistent friend, and, in all respects, a 
 valuable member of society. 
 
 " I have the honour to remain, 
 " Madam, 
 '^ Your obedient servant, 
 
 " Lucy Priscilla Lumley." 
 
 Mrs. Forrest laid aside both these letters 
 with a very quiet smile, which was soon 
 exchanged for a sigh, as she summoned 
 the half-bewildered Susan to another con- 
 sultation respecting Miss Ashton's rooms, 
 and issued yet more peremptory orders 
 than she had hitherto given for the careful 
 arrangement of every article of fui*niture,
 
 96 THE STUDENT'S WIFE. 
 
 and the addition of various elegant kniek 
 knacks, which had been put away and 
 almost forgotten since Mr. Porrest's death. 
 
 In the evening came Theresa, and, in 
 answer to her numberless and amusing 
 conjectures as to what Caroline Ashton 
 would be like, her half-wearied friend put 
 the schoolmistress's letter into her hands, 
 saying, as she did so, — "Now read that, 
 my dear, and then draw me a portrait of 
 my future guest." 
 
 Theresa was some little time in getting 
 through Mrs. Lumley's letter; and when 
 this feat was accomplished, she looked 
 up with a half-bewildered, half-reflective 
 smile, and said, slowly — 
 
 " I am very much afraid my rejoicing 
 on Miss Ashton's account has been rather 
 premature. Don't you fancy, from this 
 singularly expressed description of her, 
 that she will be somewhat stiff and unap- 
 proachable ?" 
 
 " I can fancy nothing, my dear," replied 
 Mrs. Eorrest ; " and I want your imagina-
 
 97 
 
 tion to supply the deficiencies of mine, 
 since we have no one at hand to translate 
 Mrs. Liimley's letter into plain, everyday 
 English. Come, Theresa, let me have a 
 fair, impartial portrait of Miss Caroline 
 Ashton." 
 
 " Just as she appears to me ?" 
 
 ''Of coiu'se. I am fully prepared for 
 the worst." 
 
 Theresa glanced again over the letter 
 she had recently read ; and then, looking 
 up smilingly at her companion, who 
 appeared billing to be amused by her 
 merry little fiiend, began her descriptive 
 portrait : — 
 
 " In person, she is tall and straight — 
 so straight, I feel persuaded, that she will 
 scarcely be able to bend low enou2:h to see 
 an insicrnificant little beino? like myself. 
 Her features are fine, but inclining to 
 sharpness, particularly the eyes, which 
 detect every imperfection at a first glance. 
 She has a low, measured voice, and talks 
 of arts and sciences as we poor, common- 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 THE student's wife. 
 
 place mortals talk of flowers and country 
 gossip. Pinally, dear Mrs. Eorrest, she 
 dresses with an admirable taste and neat- 
 ness ; and is always ready to be looked at 
 and admired from eight in the morning till 
 twelve at night." 
 
 "A very pretty picture, Theresa; but 
 it would still bear more filling up. I 
 will take it, however, just as it is, for the 
 present, and perhaps, in examining it 
 often, I shall in some measure prepare 
 myself for the original. But now, my 
 dear, tell me about your Mr. Singleton, 
 for I heard this morning, through Susan, 
 that he had arrived." 
 
 '' But I have not yet seen him." 
 
 "Indeed! where have you been, then, 
 aU day ?" 
 
 *'At home; but papa and his pupil 
 rode over to Oxendean, and did not come 
 back to dinner. Mamma saw him for a 
 few minutes, and she says he is very plain 
 and very silent." 
 
 " So much the better," was Mrs. Tor-
 
 THE student's WIFE. 99 
 
 rest's observation; and Theresa, though, 
 she looked up suddenly, did not ask why 
 her friend thought so, or make any further 
 remarks on the subject. 
 
 After tea they walked about the garden, 
 spoke a little more of Miss Asliton, and a 
 little more of Mr. Singleton; then The- 
 resa, fancying a storm was coming on, 
 went to fetch her bonnet, and declared she 
 must not stay a moment longer." 
 
 " Well, go, my dear child, if it must be 
 so," said Mrs. Eorrest, sadly ; " but I 
 confess I am unwilling to part with you 
 to-night, Theresa. Henceforth om' little 
 quiet evenings will entirely change their 
 character ; and if you come to me at all, 
 it will not be as now — to enliven the soli- 
 tary hours of a poor nervous recluse — ^but 
 to learn worldly wisdom from one whose 
 arrival, I franldy own, I look forward to 
 with ever-increasing dread." 
 
 Theresa took her companion's hand and 
 kissed it fondly, while she answered, 
 eagerly— 
 
 F 2
 
 100 THE student's WIEE. 
 
 " Oh ! my dear Mrs. Eorrest, after all 
 your goodness, how can you suppose, for 
 one instant, that any society could be so 
 precious to me as your own ?" 
 
 An affectionate, yet very mournful 
 smile was the only reply to this ; and for 
 a few minutes they walked side by side in 
 silence, admiring the effect of the rich sun- 
 set upon the gothic windows of the cottage, 
 and on the closing flowers, and on the 
 leaves of a beautiful silver birch that had 
 been left standing, with a few other grace- 
 ful trees, at the entrance of the little 
 garden. 
 
 "Is it not lovely?" said Theresa at 
 length, as she stooped to gather an even- 
 ing primrose, whose delicious perfume had 
 long been tempting her to the theft. 
 '^ Surely there is no place like the country, 
 and no hour in all the day so sweet as 
 this!" 
 
 "It must possess a magic, indeed, to 
 cause a little silly gM, such as Theresa 
 Berrington, to sentimentalize in this man-
 
 101 
 
 ner," exclaimed a voice which bore no 
 resemblance to that of Mrs. Forrest ; and 
 starting up hastily, Theresa saw — standing 
 behind her — her father and a vouns? man, 
 who she, of course, knew instantly must 
 be Mr. Singleton. 
 
 '' Come," said the former, cheerfully, 
 and bending to kiss his daughter's crim- 
 son cheek, " I am quite sure Mrs. Forrest 
 must haye had enousrh of you by this time ; 
 and ' mamma' wants you to take her place 
 at the supper table, as she has gone to bed 
 with a headache. This gentleman, as you 
 will haye surmised, is our new guest and 
 friend, Mr. Singleton: Singleton" — (tui'n- 
 ing to the silent and abstracted-looking 
 figure at his side) — "this is my little 
 girl, and her name is Theresa. Now, I 
 appeal to Mrs. Forrest to applaud my 
 simple and certainly novel form of intro- 
 duction." 
 
 Mrs. Forrest made a suitable reply; 
 and then tmniing to the yoimg man, 
 whose silence she attributed to an excess
 
 102 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 of timidity, said, in her kind, soft tones, 
 "You do not resemble your mother, 
 Mr. Singleton. She was an old school- 
 fellow of mine." 
 
 The stranger raised his head abruptly, 
 pushed back a quantity of long, but not 
 waving, hair from his forehead, and re- 
 plied, somewhat absently — 
 
 "Was it so, indeed!" Then looking 
 round eagerly on the fair, tranquil scene, 
 his dark and rather deep- set eyes lighted 
 up with wonderful emotion, and, drawing 
 in his breath, he said, in quite an under 
 tone, and as if altogether unconscious of 
 the presence of strangers — 
 
 " This is, indeed, a beauty that may be 
 felt — this is a spot in which the most 
 restless might find repose." 
 
 " It is, certainly, uncommonly pretty," 
 replied the cheerful rector, in his plain, 
 unsentimental manner; and I have no 
 doubt, if you contrive to make yourself 
 very agreeable, our fair and charming 
 neighbour will let you come and take a
 
 THE student's WIFE. 103 
 
 peep at her little paradise again. Eut it's 
 getting late now, young people; and in 
 spite of yonder glomng sunset, I suspect 
 we shall have a storm by and bye. Come, 
 make your adieux, Theresa, and let us be 
 going." 
 
 The latter immediately obeyed ; but be- 
 fore the party could reach the garden gate 
 a few thunder drops had fallen, and Mrs. 
 Eorrest wanted them to turn back and 
 remain in the cottage till it was over. 
 
 "No, no!" said the rector, "there is 
 no occasion for that. I have got my 
 umbrella ; and, if you can lend us another, 
 we shall do remarkably well. Here, Sin- 
 gleton" — as, on a summons from Mrs. 
 Porrest, Susan brought one out — " this 
 will shelter you and my little girl ; so now, 
 once more, we vnM march forN^ard." 
 
 Mrs. Porrest stood long enough at the 
 gate to perceive that Dr. Berrington's 
 pupil held the umbrella very awkwardly, 
 and neglected to offer his arm to the 
 young lady who had been placed under his
 
 104 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 charge. But as the rain drove her into the 
 house before the pedestrians had reached 
 the bottom of the lane, she trusted he would 
 behave more rationally as they proceeded 
 on their way. 
 
 The next morning, however, all doubts 
 on the subject were put to flight by the 
 following note from Theresa, which was 
 concealed amongst a basket of fruit she 
 sent over, at an early hour, to her friend. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Porrest, — 
 
 "I hope, from my very heart, 
 your guest will prove more agreeable and 
 less unlike a sane human being than oiir's. 
 He is a perfect bear. Only think of his 
 never offering me his arm last night, and 
 letting me get quite wet through. Then, 
 at supper time, filling my plate of cherry 
 tart with salt ; and, when I laughed 
 heartily at this — as, of course, I could not 
 help doing — laying down his own knife and 
 fork, and staring at me as if I were a frac- 
 tion of a puppet show, or anything else
 
 THE student's WIFE. 105 
 
 that he was quite privileged to look at, 
 while it was his sovereign pleasure to do so. 
 He is wonderfully plain, too ; is he not ? 
 But tliis would he notliing, if he were less 
 of a savage. I do hope papa will he more 
 fortunate with the next he gets. 
 
 *' In haste, 
 
 " Ever your own, 
 
 " Theresa." 
 
 f3
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The first two clays of the following week 
 passed over and brought no news of Caro- 
 line Ashton. 
 
 Mrs. Porrest was in a state of distressing 
 nervousness and excitement : she wished 
 from her very heart that she had never un- 
 dertaken such a charge at all, railed at her 
 own weakness, and generally ended by 
 folding her trembling hands, and wonder- 
 ing what in nature she should do with the 
 young lady, when she was actually beneath 
 her roof. Theresa Berrington's imaginary 
 portrait had become the bugbear of her 
 imagination; and, even in her dreams, 
 the gentle widow saw the tall, straight, 
 unbending figure ever at her side; and 
 beheld eyes of cold but piercing brilliancy 
 fixed upon her, mth an expression that
 
 THE student's WIFE. 107 
 
 said always — " Amuse me — exert yourself 
 — give up all thoughts of quiet and repose, 
 and invent amusement for the guest you 
 have invited." 
 
 Once or t^^ce poor Mrs. Porrest remem- 
 bered, T^'ith a sensation of relief, the plan 
 of Caroline's mother, to bring about a 
 match between her dau^^hter and Law- 
 rence Singleton; but a moment's reflection 
 deprived her of this false consolation ; for 
 even could she have brought herself to 
 assist in any matrimonial projects, she 
 believed, from the very little she liad seen 
 or heard of the gentleman, that he was 
 about the last person in the world likely 
 to fall a \actim to female charms, or to be 
 deluded by female snares, whereof the 
 subjugation of his own heart was the 
 object. 
 
 The third evening had now arrived ; and, 
 since Theresa's last visit, Mrs. Forrest had 
 seen none of the party from the rectorv^ ; 
 but she had resolved, if the former did not 
 make her appearance this evening, to call
 
 108 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 on Mrs. Berrington, and beg her to spare 
 her daughter for a few days, till Caroline 
 Ashton's first arrival had been, in some 
 degree, got over. 
 
 This visit to the rectory was a great 
 undertaking for Mrs. Eorrest, who rarely 
 went beyond her own garden, except to 
 reach the village church on Sundays ; 
 nevertheless, as Theresa did not come, she 
 carried her project into execution, and 
 was welcomed with sincere cordiality by 
 the whole family. 
 
 They had not long sat down to tea, and 
 their guest was warmly pressed to join 
 them at this social meal. Indeed, the 
 hospitable rector would hear of no excuse ; 
 and a few minutes beheld the solitary 
 widow divested of her walking apparel, 
 and bearing a part in the animated and 
 cheerful conversation that nearly always 
 enlivened the rectory tea table, whether 
 few or many surrounded it. 
 
 In the present case, the rector and his 
 wife were the chief talkers ; Mrs. Porrest
 
 THE student's WIFE. 109 
 
 generally preferring the oftimes arduous 
 part of listener ; and Theresa, being com- 
 pletely engrossed with her occupation of 
 cutting bread and butter, of which Law- 
 rence Singleton — who never opened his lips 
 to anybody — appeared to be consuming a 
 very immoderate portion. 
 
 He sat with his back to the windoAv, his 
 rather shaggy head supported on one arm, 
 his figure bent most ungracefully over the 
 table, and his right hand employed inces- 
 santly in conveying to his mouth the deli- 
 cate slices of bread and butter, which The- 
 resa, with admu^able patience, continued 
 to lay, one after another, on his plate. 
 
 " Come, Tessie, my dear," said lier 
 father at length, as a pause in the con- 
 versation ensued, " get your ovra tea now ; 
 and when our friend Singleton wants any 
 more bread, he can help himself." 
 
 " Oh ! I beg yom* pardon," exclaimed 
 the yoimg man, rousing himself with an 
 apparent effort, and pushing his plate 
 away. " I had quite forgotten that I was
 
 110 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 troubling Miss Berrington. Pray, let me 
 help myself for the future." 
 
 Theresa looked at Mrs. Porrest, blushed 
 a little, and then sat down just opposite to 
 Mr. Singleton, and where a few soft rays 
 of the rapidly sinking sun fell through the 
 quaintly latticed window upon her chest- 
 nut hair and changed its hue to gold. In 
 the room hung an old, exquisite painting 
 of the Madonna, which the rector's fair 
 young daughter had often been said to 
 resemble ; but never, perhaps, had Theresa 
 looked so like it as at this moment, with 
 her pure eyes veiled by their long, droop- 
 ing lashes, and the glory of the evening 
 sunbeam resting on her youthful and 
 classic head. 
 
 " Surely," thought Mrs. Porrest, as, 
 with warm admiration, she contemplated 
 her favourite, " no man can see, unmoved, 
 such beauty and such innocence as that !" 
 And she glanced stealthily at Lawrence 
 Singleton, to judge how he was affected 
 by it.
 
 THE student's WIPE. Ill 
 
 No change in liis attitude, no apparent 
 consciousness that there was anything in 
 the apartment worthy of recalling him 
 from the land of visions, into which he had 
 e^ddently strayed. 
 
 A few days ago and there was nothing 
 Mrs. Porrest so much desbed as that the 
 rector's pupil should think nothing of her 
 dear Theresa — should leave her simple, 
 unpolluted heart as free from dreams of 
 vanity and love as it had been before he 
 came. 
 
 Now she positively felt quite angry and 
 indignant with this same pupil, because he 
 failed to appreciate that marvellous loveli- 
 ness which none, except the proud Lilla 
 Ashton, had hitherto disputed. 
 
 Urged by this rather inconsistent feel- 
 ing, the widow exclaimed, abruptly — '' Are 
 you anything of an artist, Mr. Singleton ? 
 Your mother, I remember, had quite a 
 remarkable talent for drawing." 
 
 "I can appreciate, but I cannot exe- 
 cute," he replied, with greater promptitude 
 than usual.
 
 112 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 "What do you think, then, of that 
 Madonna," continued his questioner, de- 
 termined to find out, if possible, of what 
 materials this singular being was com- 
 posed. 
 
 "Beautiful, very beautiful," he an- 
 swered, raising his eyes to the exquisite 
 painting, and contemplating it earnestly 
 for a few minutes; then, following Mrs. 
 Porrest's glance towards Theresa, he 
 started and smiled quietly to himself, 
 repeating, in a lower and more thoughtful 
 tone — " A perfect masterpiece, — worthy of 
 the Inimitable Artist." 
 
 " Ah ! we are not quite sure who painted 
 it," said the unconscious rector, still gazing 
 with much satisfaction at his rare picture. 
 And when Mrs. Porrest tiu^ned to the 
 young man to see whether he intended to 
 explain his last observation, he had re- 
 sumed his old attitude, and was once more 
 wholly unmindful of all that was passing 
 around him. 
 
 As soon as the tea equipage had been
 
 THE STrDENT's WIFE. 113 
 
 removed, Mrs. Forrest hastened to prefer 
 her request concerning Theresa ; and, after 
 some hesitation on the mother's part, it 
 was conceded that she should go to the 
 cottage the following morning, which 
 would be Thursday, and remain until the 
 Saturday nis^ht. 
 
 " I cannot spare her for a longer period," 
 said Mrs. Berrington, taking her daughter's 
 hand and pressing it affectionately, while 
 she gazed with earnest fondness at the 
 sweet, happy face, raised so confidingly to 
 her own. '' Tessie and I have never been 
 parted for a single day, at present, and to 
 none but yourself, Mrs. Eorrest, would I 
 confide my little ghl even now." 
 
 The T^idow expressed her appreciation 
 of the favour to be conferred on her, and 
 then rose to say good bye, as it was already 
 much later than she was in the habit of 
 being out. 
 
 " But we are not quite such goths, my 
 dearest lady," exclaimed the rector, gal- 
 lantly, "as to suffer you to walk home
 
 114 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 unprotected. I would, myself, entreat the 
 honour of becoming your escort, were I 
 not certain that Mr. Singleton would ever 
 after owe me a grudge for wresting such a 
 privilege from him ; and I am ready to 
 admit that in these delicate cases, youth 
 ought to take the precedence of age." 
 
 At the mention of his name, Lawrence 
 Singleton had looked up quickly ; and, as 
 soon as he comprehended what was re- 
 quired of him, he left his seat without a 
 word, and went in search of his hat and 
 gloves. 
 
 Mrs. Porrest's first impulse was to 
 refuse this involuntary attendance ; but a 
 moment's reflection decided her on not 
 doing so ; and, after a cordial good night 
 to the rector's family, she set forth with 
 her young protector, hoping, during their 
 tete-a-tete walk, to discover something 
 more of his principles and opinions than 
 he appeared disposed to reveal, gratuitously, 
 to any of his new acquaintances. 
 
 But the widow was such an exceedingly
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 115 
 
 diffident and timid person herself, that she 
 felt terrihly puzzled in what way to hegin 
 the task of drawing out her silent com- 
 panion ; and it is more than prohahle that, 
 in spite of her resolution, they would have 
 reached Theresa Cottage without exchang- 
 ing a syllable, had not the sudden appear- 
 ance of the moon, behind a group of dark 
 pine trees, arrested either the artist eye, 
 or the poet heart of Lawrence Smgleton, 
 and caused him to exclaim — as he stopped 
 abruptly, and stood, with folded arms, 
 gazing on the scene — 
 
 " I like that — it does me good. It is 
 admirable ; full of beauty and harmony." 
 
 "You appear to be an enthusiastic 
 admirer of natm'e," said Mrs. Porrest, 
 delighted with this favourable opening. 
 '' Have you lived much in the country ?" 
 
 " Never before," he replied, walking on 
 slowly, but with his head still tm-ned in 
 the direction of the dark trees, on which 
 the moon was shining. 
 
 ''Where, then, did yom^ family reside 
 previous to — to — ." Mrs. Porrest paused.
 
 116 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 " To our change of fortune ?" he said, 
 promptly. " Oh ! we lived always in Lon- 
 don, in a dingy, sunless street, where my 
 mother toiled at household drudgery till 
 her cheek grew white and thin, and my 
 father came home from his ill-paid lahours, 
 looking each day more worn and heart-sick 
 than the last." 
 
 "And you — what were your pursuits 
 during this time ?" asked Mrs. Porrest, 
 becoming greatly interested. 
 
 " I worked too — worked at law, which 
 I hated with no common hatred ; hut my 
 father was a lawyer, and he had no interest 
 or money to educate me for any other pro- 
 fession." 
 
 '' How deeply you must all have rejoiced 
 at the sudden change ! Was not your mo- 
 ther powerfully affected when the news 
 arrived ?" 
 
 Lawrence seemed to shudder. " Ah ! do 
 not ask me to recall that hour," he said 
 quickly. " The scenes whereof human 
 emotions form the chief elements, should
 
 THE student's WIFE. 117 
 
 be witnessed by the Almighty Artist alone. 
 Eut if YOU care to hear, I ^vill tell you 
 what I did when the first overpowering 
 emotion had subsided." 
 
 " Do," replied Mrs. Eorrest, in a low 
 voice, full of sympathy. 
 
 "I had heard the news," he continued, 
 " as we sometimes hear things in our 
 dreams — ^dth a stransre consciousness of 
 their reality, and yet a mysterious per- 
 suasion that we must awake to find them 
 a delusion. But the dull details of the 
 case which mv father, as a lawver, entered 
 upon, brought, by degrees, full con^-iction 
 to my mind ; and then I went forth, A\ith 
 a beating heart, from our close and nar- 
 row street, to some green fresh fields I 
 knew of, where I thought I might be 
 alone. But it was a holiday; and hun- 
 dreds of gaily dressed people, all laughing 
 and talking loudly, were there before me ; 
 and I felt that bm-ning tMrst for sohtude, 
 which demands immediate relief at the 
 risk of life or reason. So, I wandered on
 
 118 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 and on, through lanes and meadows, and 
 down scarcely trodden roads, till I came 
 after hours of fatigue, to a thick, lonely 
 wood, such as I had often and often dreamt 
 of being in. Here I stayed my progress ; 
 and, choosing a high, shadowy tree, I 
 threw myself beneath it, and lay, during 
 the long, quiet hom^s of that summer after- 
 noon, gazing up at the blue sky and float- 
 ing clouds, and listening to the wild carol 
 of the birds that rang, like strange, sweet 
 music, in the fragrant air around me. I 
 do not know whether I was happy. I 
 believe happiness must be something more 
 tangible and real; but, I know that I 
 enjoyed intensely, and for the first time 
 since mental sensation had replaced the 
 animal pleasures and impressions of early 
 childhood. It was not the acquisition of 
 wealth or station that I prized — not the 
 prospect of emerging from the obscurity 
 that had hitherto enshrouded me ; — it was 
 liberty — liberty of thought and action — 
 liberty to choose my own pursuits, my
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 119 
 
 owTi recreations — liberty to throw aside for 
 ever the studies my very soul abhorred — 
 liberty to lie long hours, as I was lying 
 then, listening to nature's melodies, and 
 gazing up at God's bright and glorious 
 heavens, whose mysteries I might now 
 dream of at my will." 
 
 Here Lawrence Singleton paused, for 
 they were near IMrs. Forrest's gate; but 
 the latter, whose interest in this strange 
 young man had been thoroughly awakened, 
 said, eagerly — 
 
 " And since then ? A^Hiat has occurred 
 since then, Mr. Singleton ? 
 
 His momentary enthusiasm was quite 
 gone; the very sound of liis voice was 
 changed ; and he replied, somewhat 
 wearily — 
 
 " Oh ! that is nearly a year ago ; and 
 my mother could not bear me to leave her 
 diuing the period of her first initiation 
 into fasliionable life." Tliis was said with 
 a tincture of satire, the attentive listener 
 fancied. '' But I still hate London,
 
 120 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 changed as its aspect has become to us ; 
 and, my father joining his persuasions to 
 mine, permission was at length granted 
 for me to come and study in the country." 
 
 They stood, now, at the gate ; but Mrs. 
 Porrest had yet one more question to ask. 
 
 " You know Mrs. Ashton," she said, 
 hurriedly, " the mother of the young lady 
 I am expecting ? "Wliat do you think of 
 her ?" 
 
 " She appeared to me to be the same as 
 the other fine lady friends I saw at my 
 mother's house. I should not recognize 
 her from any of the rest, if they were al 
 brought this minute before me." 
 
 " Did she never talk to you of Caroline, 
 her daughter ?" 
 
 " If she did, I have forgotten it. But 
 it is certain that I do forget many things 
 lately. They tell me, at home, that I am 
 always dreaming ; and I think myself, 
 sometimes — paradoxical as it appears — 
 that I shall not awake entirely till I fall 
 asleep for ever."
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 121 
 
 "You must come and see me, Mr. Sin- 
 gleton," said Mrs. Forrest, with much 
 more warmth of manner than she was in 
 the hahit of testifying to any save Theresa. 
 '^ Eor your own, now, as well as for your 
 mother's sake, I shall always welcome you 
 gladly." 
 
 " Thank you," replied the young man, 
 with a hrusquerie rather inconsistent T\'ith 
 the friendly confidences he had been 
 making. And just touching the hand that 
 his companion frankly extended to him, 
 he bowed with an absent air, and departed. 
 
 Mrs. Forrest had not time at present to 
 meditate on what had passed between her- 
 self and her old schoolfellow's son; for, in 
 answer to her quiet ring at the garden 
 bell, Susan rushed breathlessly down the 
 path, exclaiming, — " Oh, ma'am. Miss 
 Ashton has arrived !" 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 If it had been — " Oh ! ma'am, your death 
 warrant is in the house," Mrs. Porrest 
 could scarcely have exhibited a greater 
 degree of agitation, or felt more reluctance 
 to advance a step beyond the exact spot 
 where she had received the news. All her 
 morbid dread of this formidable young 
 lady returned suddenly with overwhelm- 
 ing power, and sat like a dreary incubus 
 upon her shrinking heart. Susan waited 
 a few seconds in respectful silence for her 
 mistress to speak; but finding that the 
 latter showed no disposition to do so, the 
 girl, nothing loth to play the enviable part 
 of news -bearer, continued, eagerly — 
 
 *' She has been here these two hours, 
 ma'am. A post chaise brought her, quite 
 alone, too, from Oxendean. I have done
 
 THE STUDENT S WIEE. 123 
 
 mv best to make the voimg lady comfort- 
 able ; but she seems rather lonesome like, 
 and as if she did not care much for talkbio^. 
 You T^-ill find her, now, ma'am, in the 
 front parlour ; but as long as it was light 
 she walked about the garden, and looked 
 at the flowers, I thought, as if she loved 
 them almost as much as Miss Theresa and 
 YOU, ma'am." 
 
 " Very well," Susan, replied her mistress 
 at length, moving slowly up the path ; ^' I 
 must sro to Miss Ashton at once. Of 
 course, you offered her some refreshment 
 on her arrival ?" 
 
 " O yes, ma'am ; and I persuaded her to 
 take a cup of tea, poor thing ! for she 
 seemed quite worn out ; and I have got a 
 nice little chicken ready for supper — ^^y- 
 haps Miss Ashton may fancy a bit, before 
 she goes to bed." 
 
 "You have done quite right, Susan. 
 Now, bring in the candles, and then see 
 about supper immediately.,' 
 
 As Mrs. Forrest gave this order she 
 
 G 2
 
 124 THE student's WIEE. 
 
 opened the parlour door, and walked, with 
 anything but a firm step, into the room. 
 
 Caroline Ashton was sitting in a low, 
 easy chair by the window, through which 
 the moon shone brightly, and revealed, 
 with perfect distinctness, the outKnes of 
 her form and face ; but Mrs. Porrest had 
 only time to take a very casual glance ere 
 the young lady rose from her seat, and 
 advancing, with extended hand, said, in a 
 low and singularly quiet tone — 
 
 " Mrs. Porrest, I presume ?" 
 
 The widow pressed, with sincere warmth, 
 the offered hand of her guest, while she 
 murmured a few words of courteous wel- 
 come, and assurances of her desire to ren- 
 der Miss Ashton' s new abode in every way 
 agreeable to her. 
 
 "My mother did not exaggerate its 
 beauties, at any rate," Caroline said, in 
 reply to this; and then she remained 
 silent, as if aware that it was the part of 
 her hostess to lead the conversation, or 
 ignorant of the subjects that would be 
 most acceptable to her companion.
 
 THE student's WIFE. 125 
 
 Por the moment, Mrs. Porrest was re- 
 lieved by the entrance of Susan ; and by 
 the time they were asrain alone — with the 
 candles on the table — she had remembered 
 that it was her duty to inquire concerning 
 Miss Ashton's journey and her mother's 
 intended voyage, and that these subjects 
 would, probably, occupy them until supper 
 was brought in. 
 
 Her expectations were not disappointed ; 
 for although Caroline did not aj)pear to be 
 a great talker, she answered every question 
 Avith a cheerful readiness that evinced a 
 wish to promote the conversation, as well 
 as a desire to render herself agreeable to 
 the lady under whose roof she had come to 
 reside. 
 
 But Mrs. Forrest, accustomed to the 
 caressing and endearing manners of The- 
 resa Berrington, could not help thinking 
 her guest exceedingly cold and precise ; 
 and although her outward aspect was de- 
 cidedly an improvement on Theresa's por- 
 trait, there was something in her way of
 
 126 THE student's wife. 
 
 speaking, in her faultless style of dress — 
 simple though it was — and in the appar- 
 ent absence of all impulsive feeling, that 
 seemed to tally most unpleasantly with 
 that fancy sketch which, during the last 
 few days, had haunted poor Mrs. Porrest 
 so perseveringly. 
 
 Prejudices are bad things at all times ; 
 and, when they take possession of a mind, 
 weakened by solitude and mental suffering, 
 they are particularly tenacious of their 
 dominion, and generally require a very 
 long notice ere they give up their cherished 
 quarters. 
 
 Caroline Ashton little dreamt of the 
 unfavourable opinion that had been con- 
 ceived of her, or of the many heartaches 
 her anticipated arrival had occasioned, or 
 it is probable that even that admirable 
 self-possession and equanimity which Mrs. 
 Eorrest, but for her irrational prejudices, 
 must have admired, would have melted 
 into air long before that first evening 
 was over, and caused the almost desolate
 
 THE STrDENT'S WIFE. 127 
 
 girl to hide her pale face and weep, again, 
 as bitter tears as she had shed on parting 
 with the dear friends who had, hitherto, 
 been life, and hope, and sunshine to her. 
 Eut, happily, the veil was on ; and beneath 
 it, Caroline only saw a gentle kindness, 
 less cordial, perhaps, than she had ex- 
 pected, and a most attentive courtesy, 
 with which she could find no fault. 
 
 The tempting supper— which Susan had 
 so thoughtfully prepared — was eaten ^ith 
 little appetite by eitlier of the ladies ; and, 
 at its conclusion, Mrs. Forrest su^^o^ested 
 that her young guest must be fatigued, 
 and probably ready to go to bed. To this 
 Caroline made no objection ; and, shaking 
 hands in a quiet, friendly manner, they 
 parted for the night. 
 
 The \^idow only fell asleep towards 
 morning; and when she awoke, it was 
 some time past her usual hour for rising ; 
 and she had a thousand fears immediately 
 about Miss Ashton's comforts, and made 
 herself positively wretched at the idea that
 
 128 THE student's wife. 
 
 she mighi have waited for her breakfast, 
 or been at a loss for amusement, or walked 
 on the damp grass in the garden, or done 
 any other possible or impossible thing, 
 which it was her duty, as a hostess, to 
 have prevented. 
 
 " La, ma'am," said Susan, as her mis- 
 tress, in a rapid manner, expressed some 
 of these apprehensions to her, "you'll be 
 worrying yourself into a fever, if you go 
 on in this way. Miss Ashton is old 
 enough — and I am sure she looks wise 
 enough — to take care of herself. When I 
 went to ask her if she would have some 
 hot water about seven o'clock, she was 
 reading very comfortably in bed, and de- 
 sired me to let her know when you began 
 to dress. I thought she looked pale, and 
 a little bit downhearted, poor thing ! So, 
 I took her up a cup of tea, and she thanked 
 me as though I'd put a crown upon her 
 head. To my thinking, she's a very like- 
 able young lady." 
 
 Mrs. Eorrest did not reply to this ; but
 
 THE STrDENT's WIFE. 129 
 
 she made all possible haste to dress herself, 
 and then, having heard her guest go down 
 before her, descended to the breakfast 
 parlour, and found Caroline with a book in 
 her hand, but looking decidedly ill, and 
 out of spirits. 
 
 " I am afraid you have not slept well, 
 my dear," said the T\'idow, with very 
 genuine anxiety ; " what a pity I did not 
 think of sending up your breakfast to you. 
 You have a bad headache, I am sure." 
 
 " Not very bad," said Caroline, trying 
 to smile cheerfully ; "I shall be better by 
 and bye. Yom* servant was kind enough 
 to bring me some tea, and that refreshed 
 me srreatlv. Can I be of anv use to vou 
 at the breakfast table, Mrs. Forrest r" 
 
 This offer Avas gratefully declined ; and, 
 as Caroline did not press it, the ^^idow 
 was about to take her usual place, when a 
 sharp ring at the bell was followed by the 
 abrupt entrance of Theresa Berrington, 
 laden, as usual, with fruit and flowers, and 
 her sweet face glowing with health and 
 happiness. g 3
 
 130 THE student's wife> 
 
 " Dearest Mrs. Porrest, I am so glad to 
 come to you," she exclaimed, on opening 
 the door ; but pausing at once on seeing 
 Caroline, she blushed with her accustomed 
 shyness, and stood waiting for an intro- 
 duction. 
 
 This was soon got over ; and then, not 
 discovering anything very terrible in Miss 
 Ashton's appearance, the new comer re- 
 peated her expressions of delight in being 
 permitted to visit her dear Mrs. Porrest, 
 and playfully forced the latter from her 
 seat, and insisted on making breakfast. 
 
 Eor awhile the conversation was sus- 
 tained with considerable animation between 
 the widow and her little favourite — the 
 chief subject being Lawrence Singleton. 
 And, during this time, Caroline Ashton 
 employed herself in gazing wonderingly 
 at the lovely countenance of Theresa 
 Berrington, and marvelling whether it was 
 that rare fascination of form and face, or 
 some mysterious foreshadowing of the 
 future, that led her to feel, at once, such
 
 THE student's WIFE. 131 
 
 a powerful and unaccountable interest in 
 the young stranger, whose very name she 
 had never heard till now. 
 
 Absorbed in her own reflections, she 
 had paid no attention to the subject under 
 discussion, and it was Mrs. Forrest who 
 roused her suddenly, by saying — 
 
 '' I believe the gentleman of whom we 
 are speaking is not altogether unkno^vn to 
 you. Miss Ashton; at least, you must 
 have heard frequently of him from your 
 mother ?" 
 
 "I did not catch the name," replied 
 Caroline, with immediate attention. 
 
 "Lawrence Singleton," said Theresa, 
 eagerly, longing to make a favourable im- 
 pression on Miss Ashton. '' He has just 
 come down from London to study the 
 classics with papa ; and you cannot fancy 
 what an oddity he is." 
 
 Theresa would have gone on, for good- 
 ness knows how long, T\ith her foolish 
 gossip, had she not been startled and 
 arrested by Caroline's sudden and remark-
 
 132 THE student's wife. 
 
 able increase of colour, combined with an 
 expression of unmistakeable astonisliment 
 and annoyance. 
 
 ''Lawrence Singleton!" exclaimed the 
 latter, at length. " Do you mean the son 
 of Sir James Singleton, who has recently 
 succeeded to the baronetcy?" 
 
 "The same," replied Mrs. Porrest; and 
 then pitying, and, in some measure, 
 guessing at the cause of her guest's con- 
 fusion, she told Theresa that her services 
 were no longer required at the breakfast 
 table, and advised her to go and put away 
 her shawl and bonnet in the bedroom. 
 
 Caroline took prompt advantage of 
 being alone with her hostess to say, in 
 rather an agitated voice — 
 
 '' Mrs. Porrest, will you candidly answer 
 me one question, and forgive its apparent 
 want of delicacy ?" 
 
 " Certainly, my dear, if I can." (Mrs. 
 Porrest devoutly wished herself at the very 
 bottom of the sea, aud thought Caroline 
 more fo-rmidable than ever.)
 
 THE student's wipe. 133 
 
 "Then, did you, diu^ing my mother's 
 visit to you, express a desire for a young 
 companion ; in short, did the proposal of 
 my coming here emanate from you /" 
 
 It was now the widow's turn to colour 
 painfully, and to struggle between her 
 strict conscientiousness and her acute 
 dread of wounding Caroline, and, probably, 
 of giving the lie to some representation of 
 Mrs. Ashton's. But Caroline, with burn- 
 ing cheek and tightly compressed lips, sat 
 patiently waiting for an answer; and in 
 the end her companion was obliged to 
 say— 
 
 " My dear Miss Ashton, the inference to 
 be dra^^Ti from yoiu^ question is so very 
 obvious, that I am most reluctant to 
 acknowledge that I was not the originator 
 of the scheme which has given me the 
 pleasure of your society. But the affair 
 was so quickly arranged, that it is pos- 
 sible" — she dared not ^^j prohahle — "that 
 your mother may have forgotten how it 
 began. After all, it is of little conse-
 
 134i THE student's wife. 
 
 quence, if, now you are here, I can suc- 
 ceed in making you comfortable." 
 
 " Mrs. Porrest," replied Caroline, with 
 slow and remarkable distinctness of utter- 
 ance, " you have, probably, been misled, as 
 well as myself; and, therefore, I think it 
 right to tell you, that my mother and 
 Lady Singleton — who is a well meaning, 
 but lamentably weak woman, guided en- 
 tirely by those about her, and by mamma 
 especially — that these two are desirous 
 of makins: a match between Lawrence 
 and myself. Perhaps, when you know 
 me better, you will understand how pecu- 
 liarly hateful all this sort of thing is to 
 me. At present, I can only assure you 
 that, so far from entering into their man- 
 oeuverings, I refused Lady Singleton's 
 pressing invitation to reside with her on 
 this account ; that I entreated mamma to 
 let me come into the country for the same 
 reason ; and, finally, that I have never seen 
 the young man ; and, if it can possibly be 
 avoided, I never will,'"
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 135 
 
 Poor, quiet, pea€e-loviiig, nervous !Mrs. 
 Forrest ! Here was an agreeable position 
 of affairs ! here was a delightful prospect 
 for the time to come ! Por a few seconds 
 after Caroline had ceased to speak, she sat 
 looking at her in quite an amusing per- 
 plexity, not knowing the least in the 
 world what she ought to say or what to 
 leave unsaid. 
 
 Miss Ashton appeared to comprehend 
 these feelings, for she held out her hand 
 suddenly toward her hostess, and resumed, 
 T\ith a most agreeable smile — 
 
 " But we need not make ourselves un- 
 happy because mamma and her friend 
 form extravagant and ridiculous plans. I 
 was only anxious to exonerate myself from 
 any suspicions you might have formed, 
 and to enlist you on my side. Now that 
 both these objects are accomplished, we 
 may dismiss the detestable subject for 
 ever." 
 
 '' Certainly, my dear;" said Mrs. Forrest, 
 with a sigh that would not be restrained.
 
 136 THE student's wife. 
 
 " And now we may have Theresa in again, 
 I think.'' 
 
 "One moment, Mrs. Porrest. Did 
 mamma see Miss Berrington while she 
 was here?" 
 
 '' Yes, for a few minutes." 
 • '' And what did she think of her ?" 
 
 " Not much, I fancy ; at least, I con- 
 sidered her admiration wonderfully cold : 
 but, then, I have, perhaps, too exalted 
 an opinion of Theresa's attractions." 
 
 " You cannot have. She is the loveliest 
 person I ever saw ; and mamma may find, 
 to her cost, that Elderton has a fairer 
 bride for the future owner of Burnham 
 Park, than the one she so presumptuously 
 destines for him. This Lawrence must 
 be less than mortal, if he can see that 
 beautiful young creature daily without 
 loving her." 
 
 Mrs. Porrest was prevented making a 
 reply by the entrance of the "beautiful 
 young creature" in question; and soon 
 after the two girls went out into the
 
 THE student's avife. 137 
 
 garden together, and left their gentle 
 hostess to her very uncomfortable medita- 
 tions concerning what she had just heard, 
 and her renewed regrets at having con- 
 sented to be made the dupe of the worldly 
 and ambitious Lilla Ashton.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 At a later hour of the same day, Caroline's 
 headache being better, it was proposed that 
 Theresa should introduce her to one of the 
 many beautiful walks with which the neigh- 
 bourhood abounded, while Mrs. Porrest, 
 who was really quite unwell, from the 
 unusual excitement she had undergone, 
 endeavoured to get a little quiet sleep. 
 
 jPor this purpose she placed herself upon 
 the drawing-room sofa, drew down the 
 blinds, and closing her aching eyelids, 
 made a desperate effort to forget for a 
 season the many annoyances which beset 
 her path, and from which she could see no 
 present prospect of emancipation. 
 
 Alas ! poor Mrs. Porrest — her day of rest 
 had been brief indeed ; and if her bruised 
 heart had cherished hopes of building up
 
 THE student's WIFE. 139 
 
 a tabernacle of peace in this vale of tears, 
 how bitterly must it have mourned the 
 defeat of these flattering anticipations ! 
 how painfully it must have yearned for 
 that portion beside the still waters, which 
 seemed to flee farther and farther the more 
 earnestly it was pursued ! 
 
 Peace — blessed, heavenly peace ! why 
 might it not be hers ? The blue skies, the 
 summer air, the very insects that crawled 
 lazily in the sunshine, or flew, with their 
 pleasant, humming sound, about the quiet 
 room — all these seemed full of peace, and 
 as if they mocked, in theh^ serene enjoy- 
 ment, the troubles of the wearied woman 
 who lay, in a half-dreaming state, ques- 
 tioning the mysterious allotments of Pro- 
 vidence, and wondering whether the earth 
 had no lonely spot where she might escape 
 from life's warfare, and prepare herself for 
 that better land vrhere true and everlasting 
 rest is to be foimd. 
 
 Mrs. Porrest fell asleep at last, and 
 dreamt that having taken refuge in a con-
 
 140 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 vent from tlie excitements of the world, 
 slie had to settle the daily quarrels of the 
 whole sisterhood of nuns, and spend the 
 hours not thus employed in listening to 
 the bitter complaints of the lady abbess 
 against every member of the establishment, 
 or the severe denunciations of the father 
 confessor against the lady abbess herself. 
 
 Erom this pleasing vision the sleeper was 
 abruptly recalled by the entrance of Susan, 
 who, advancing to the sofa, said, in a loud, 
 cheerful voice, — 
 
 " It's near five o'clock, ma'am, and you 
 told me to rouse you at half-past four. 
 The young ladies are not come home yet, 
 but here's a letter for you, and if you'll 
 have a drop of tea, I've got it ready for 
 you." 
 
 "Thank you, Susan, you may bring it 
 to me, for I feel scarcely awake even now. 
 Give me the letter, however, and open one 
 of the windows : this room appears insaf- 
 ferably hot." 
 
 Whether the contents of the letter,
 
 THE student's WIFE 141 
 
 which, on Susan's departure, Mrs. Forrest 
 opened and read, had the effect of cooling 
 the atmosphere, I am not prepared to say ; 
 but it certainly removed every trace of 
 drowsiness, and even made the startled 
 reader think it probable that she should 
 never sleep again. Thus it ran : — 
 
 " Eally castle, 
 *^ Count V Antrim, Ireland. 
 
 " My dearest Aunt, — 
 
 " You ^ill guess by the black edges 
 of my paper that sometliing is the matter ; 
 and so it is, for Old Mahon's off at last. I 
 don't mean to speak disrespectfully of the 
 old boy, though, perhaps, when I tell you 
 that he's only left me two hundred a year, 
 you would not wonder much if I did. The 
 will was opened last Thursday, and, to 
 the surprise of everybody, the bulk of the 
 property was found to be bequeathed to a 
 small-pox hospital in Dublin. What to do 
 with myself I am, of course, as ignorant as
 
 142 THE student's wife. 
 
 the man in the moon. One friend advises 
 me to hang myself — another, to go into 
 the army — another, to try my luck at the 
 bar — another, to join some strolling players 
 — and two or three more suggest my re- 
 tiring to a country village, and living upon 
 my means 1 1 Now all the former plans are 
 at least possible, but this last, you knov/, 
 is not, and I'll give any of them leave to 
 duck me in the Shannon if they find me 
 attempting such a thing. 
 
 "At present I am staying with an old 
 chum of mine, who is a regular good 
 fellow, and when he's tired of me, I'm 
 going, for a week or two, to some more 
 friends, who won't take any refusal. But 
 after this, my best of aunts, I shall be a 
 desolate wanderer on the face of the earth ; 
 and if I transport myself and chattels to 
 your part of the globe, and beg permission 
 to become, for a brief space, a dweller 
 beneath your hospitable roof, I hope you 
 wont deem your unknown nephew very 
 presumptuous, or wish him at the bottom 
 of the blue ocean."
 
 THE student's WIFE. 143 
 
 " Should you consent to receive me, I 
 shall probably find my way to Theresa 
 Cottage — what a pretty name ! — in about 
 a month or five weeks from the date of 
 of this, and I can then discuss with you, 
 my only surviving relative, the different 
 plans that have been suggested for my 
 future maintenance. As I am no scribe, 
 my good aunt, excuse this rambling effu- 
 sion, and remember the constitutional 
 idleness and thoughtlessness of 
 
 ** Your affectionate, but unworthy nephew, 
 *' Philip Maranham." 
 
 " P.S. — You won't mind my two blood- 
 hounds — Tantalus and Charon — I know; 
 but as they are rather large, I mention 
 them here to prevent any surprise on their 
 appearance; and, also, that if you do not 
 possess such an article, you may have a 
 little kennel knocked up for them in the 
 garden, as they have been desperately 
 petted; and would take it ill, poor things,
 
 IM THE student's WIFE. 
 
 if they did not find comfortable sleeping 
 quarters. In the day they run about the 
 house, like lambs ; and will, no doubt, 
 soon make themselves quite at home in 
 Theresa Cottage." 
 
 " Please, ma'am, here is your tea, and 
 I'm afraid it will be cold," said Susan, for 
 the fourth time, as she stood in respectful 
 amazement before her completely absorbed 
 and greatly agitated mistress. This time 
 her words were understood, for the letter 
 was finished ; and Mrs. Eorrest, looking 
 up with a sort of stony despair in her 
 meek eyes, replied, calmly — 
 
 " Put it down, Susan. I do not mind 
 its being cold." 
 
 " I hope you do not feel worse, ma'am ; 
 or that you have had no bad news," said 
 the girl, timidly; for the paleness of her 
 mistress's face alarmed her, and she was 
 unmlling to leave her alone. 
 
 " Oh, no ! it is nothing particular. I 
 cannot talk about it now," Mrs. Forrest
 
 THE student's WIFE. 145 
 
 answered, immediately. ** The young ladies 
 will want their tea when they come in; 
 shall you have it ready, Susan ?" 
 
 " Quite ready, ma'am. I've just been 
 placing some of the flowers Miss Theresa 
 brought this morning in Miss Ashton's 
 rooms. Miss Theresa told me to do it, as 
 she had found out that the young lady 
 loved flowers. And, oh ! ma'am, it's just a 
 pleasure to go into those rooms now that 
 Miss Ashton has put everything in order. 
 You never saw such a palace of neatness 
 and elegance in your life — such lovely 
 books, and boxes, and china images, and 
 baskets of every shape ! Oh ! I do wish 
 you'd step up presently, and take a 
 peep ; it's like going into a fairy's room, 
 I declare." 
 
 How admirably adapted for the friendly 
 visits of Tantalus and Charon, thought 
 the unfortunate aunt of Philip Maranham, 
 as she declined Susan's proposal of peeping 
 into Caroline's rooms, and walked through 
 the opened French window into the garden, 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 
 
 that the cool eyening breeze might afford 
 temporary relief from the oppressive sen- 
 sation her nephew's letter had brought 
 with it. 
 
 She had not walked many minutes, 
 before a ring at the gate announced the 
 return of her guests ; and Theresa, running 
 up to Mrs. Porrest the moment the gate 
 was unlocked, declared they had had a 
 most delightful walk, an assertion which 
 Caroline's quiet smile fully corroborated. 
 The latter, when she had expressed a hope 
 that Mrs. Forrest was better, retu^ed to 
 take off her walking dress ; and then The- 
 resa, strolling by the side of her more 
 than usually silent friend, with her bonnet 
 hanging carelessly on her arm, began an 
 animated and enthusiastic eulogy of Caro- 
 line Ashton, to which the widow listened 
 without comment or interruption of any 
 kind. 
 
 " She is really a darling," said the eager 
 speaker, "and no more like that abomi- 
 nable portrait I invented than Lawrence
 
 THE student's WIPE. 147 
 
 Singleton is like papa. Oh ! I am sure 
 you will love her dearly Avhen vou know 
 her better, for she has just your tastes for 
 quiet and solitude" — (here Mrs. Forrest 
 groaned mentally) — '*and eyen dislikes 
 general society. As for men, she declares 
 it would be a positiye purgatory to her 
 were she obliged to see much of them, for 
 nearly the whole of her life has been 
 passed amongst friends of her o^yn sex, to 
 many of whom she appears much attached. 
 I haye heard all about her mother and Mr. 
 Singleton ; but in spite of Caroline's pre- 
 sent resolution of neyer seeing him, I 
 should not wonder if it ended in a loye 
 match — there is something so deliciously 
 romantic and out of the common way 
 in it." 
 
 "My dear Theresa," said Mrs. Eorrest, 
 finding that her little friend intended to 
 pause here, " you are talking sad nonsense 
 to-night. I hope you haye not been en- 
 tertaining Miss Ashton in a similar style, 
 or I should much fear that she has formed 
 
 H 2
 
 148 THE student's wife. 
 
 a less exalted opinion of your wisdom than 
 yon have done of hers ! " 
 
 " Oh ! we have talked of nearly every 
 subject under the sun," replied Theresa, 
 with undiminished animation. '' Caroline 
 knows so many things that I have scarcely 
 heard of; and she is going to lend me 
 books, and to teach me flower-painting 
 from nature ; and we are to walk together 
 every day that mamma can spare me ; and, 
 in short, my dearest Mrs. Porrest, I am in 
 a state of enchantment, which may well 
 excuse the nonsense you say I have been 
 talking." 
 
 "Nonsense, indeed, you little goose!' 
 said Mrs. Porrest, actually beguiled, for 
 the moment, from the contemplation of 
 her own troubles by the fascination which 
 Theresa — in her gay, childlike moods — 
 always contrived to exercise over her. 
 " But there, you perceive, is Miss Ashton 
 at the window ; so let us go in to tea." 
 
 Nothing remarkable occurred during the 
 evening, except that Mrs. Torrest, instead
 
 THE student's WIFE. 149 
 
 of having to amuse the formidable Caro- 
 line, was arbitrarily compelled to instal 
 herself on the sofa, and forbidden to utter 
 a single word. So she reposed in lux- 
 urious indolence, listening — between the 
 snatches of refreshing sleep which stole 
 upon her — to Miss Ashton's very clever 
 and amusing sketches of school life, and 
 Theresa's equally entertaining and very 
 naive observations thereon. 
 
 When Susan, at ten o'clock, brought in 
 the supper and the bedroom candles, Mrs. 
 Forrest was the first to exclaim — 
 
 " Dear me, is it so late ? I had no idea 
 the evening was half over !"
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 But in the morning all the vexations and 
 disquietudes of the preceding day returned 
 with even increased hitterness, and the 
 more Miss Ashton appeared to be recon- 
 ciled to her new home, the more unwilling 
 did her timid hostess feel to communicate 
 to her the threatened addition to their 
 household; and although no thought of 
 refusing to receive her beloved sister's 
 child had ever, for an instant, crossed the 
 widow's mind, the prospect of his coming 
 was not the less fraught with anxious and 
 sickening dread to her. If she had shrunk 
 from accepting the charge of Caroline 
 Ashton, a quiet, well-conducted, and care- 
 fully-educated young lady, how much more 
 did she shrink from becoming, in any way 
 whatever, the protectress of such an one
 
 THE student's WIFE. 151 
 
 as she had pictm^ed Philip Maranham ! 
 And yet what was to be done ? 
 
 In a few weeks her quiet dwelling would 
 be desecrated by the presence of this wild, 
 untameable spirit and his fierce favourites, 
 whose very names filled poor Mrs. Porrest 
 with a trembling and unconquerable fear. 
 
 As if to aggravate her distress, there 
 occurred, dm^ing the day, repeated in- 
 stances illustrative of Miss Ashton's pre- 
 ference for a quiet life, as well as of her 
 extreme fondness for order and regularity 
 in all things. Once or twice she gently 
 chided Theresa for leaving her working 
 materials scattered about the room; and 
 when the latter, laughingly, inquired 
 whether she did not think a little dis- 
 order graceful, Caroline replied, quite 
 seriously — 
 
 " My dear Miss Berrington, I am sure 
 that in vour heart vou must feel as I do — 
 that life, without the most perfect order 
 and neatness — even in externals — would 
 lose half its charms."
 
 152 THE student's wife. 
 
 " I am afraid," said Theresa, with genu- 
 ine humility, '' that I have much more 
 to learn than I suspected, and this keen 
 appreciation of external order amongst the 
 rest. Miss Ashton, you will he disgusted 
 with your pupil at the very outset." 
 
 "Par from that," Caroline hastened to 
 answer, with her pleasant, sensible smile ; 
 " but although I might succeed in teaching 
 you to practise order, the powerful appre- 
 ciation and love of it is, I imagine, a gift 
 of nature's own, and not always a de- 
 sirable one ; at least, I can imagine it the 
 cause of very great and constant annoy- 
 ance, if the possessor should be placed in 
 immediate relations with an individual 
 entirely destitute of it. I doubt, in my 
 own particular case, whether, with every 
 other source of enjoyment, I could be quite 
 happy with an habitually untidy and care- 
 less person." 
 
 "Then," observed Mrs. Porrest, with a 
 desperate resolve to know at once the 
 worst she had to expect — "then, I pre-
 
 THE student's WIFE. 153 
 
 sume, my dear, you are not fond of 
 animals about a house ?" 
 
 "Decidedly not," said Caroline, ear- 
 nestly. " Cats are always in the way ; birds 
 are stupid, and make a terrible litter ; and 
 as for dogs, they are my detestation — the 
 fat, pampered, lazy, little animals." 
 
 " But these are only lap dogs. There 
 are some dogs really noble, admirable crea- 
 tures, full of intelligence and fidelity — an 
 example to human beings, an honour and 
 a glory to theu' ovra species." 
 
 This was Theresa's defence of the canine 
 race ; for she had the bad taste to be exces- 
 sively fond of them all, from the gigantic 
 Newfoimdland to the ciu4y little parlour 
 favourite, of which Caroline had spoken 
 with such contempt. 
 
 The latter smiled at her new friend's 
 enthusiasm, and replied, immediately — " I 
 quite agree with you in your admii*ation 
 of the faithfulness and the intellis^ence of 
 the better class of these animals; and, 
 in my condemnation, I only included the 
 
 H 3
 
 15 i THE student's WIFE. 
 
 usual sort of household pets. Eut my ad- 
 miration of the larger, nobler tribe of 
 dogs is mingled with such an instinctive 
 terror, that I could never, I think, under 
 any cu'cumstances, become attached to 
 one, or bear it any length of time in the 
 same room with me." 
 
 Mrs. Porrest grew pale, and walked out 
 into the garden. She determined to ask 
 no more questions for that day. 
 
 But while the hostess of Theresa Cot- 
 tage was sick at heart, and incapable of 
 enjoying the beauties of that sweet summer 
 time, because of the morbid weakness that 
 past trials and recent solitude had gene- 
 rated in her mind, the young people 
 who shared her hospitality grew, hourly, 
 more charmed with each other, and more 
 contented with the destiny which had 
 already made them acquaintances, and 
 promised to make them friends. 
 
 To Theresa, this brief visit had been a 
 season of unmixed enjoyment; and she 
 had just consented, on the Saturday even-
 
 THE student's WIFE. 155 
 
 ing, to Mrs. Forrest's proposal of sending 
 Susan to the rectory with a petition for 
 another two days' holiday, when a mes- 
 senger arrived with a note from Dr. Ber- 
 rington, which rendered the suggestion 
 useless. 
 
 Theresa read this communication first to 
 herself ; and then, glancing archly towards 
 Caroline, she said, with a smile untinctured 
 by a shadow of pique — 
 
 '' Pray, admire the gallantry of your 
 friend Mr. Singleton. I will read the note 
 to you, and you shall condole mth me on 
 my mortification. Listen — 
 
 " Little Tessie, — 
 
 " You must come home as soon 
 as you receive this ; for neither your 
 mother nor myself can do any longer 
 without you. Even our taciturn guest is 
 visibly pining away ; for he never eats a 
 mouthful of bread now you are not here 
 to cut it for him. But, lest your silly
 
 156 THE student's wiee. 
 
 little heart should be uplifted at this in- 
 telligence, I must tell you, that I just now 
 asked him, four separate times, to walk 
 oyer and fetch you home ; and, he either 
 did not, or would not hear me, being more 
 agreeably occupied in devouring ' Dante's 
 Inferno.' I cannot come myself, having 
 sprained my foot yesterday ; so, make 
 haste, little puss, that you may be in time 
 to pour out our tea, and cut Lawrence 
 Singleton's bread and butter. 
 
 ^' Your foolishly devoted father, 
 
 " A. G. Berhington. 
 
 " I have a bit of news for you, if you are 
 a good girl, and come home to tea." 
 
 The lamentations that were uttered by 
 Theresa's friends over this peremptory 
 recall may so well be imagined, that it 
 would be a mere waste of words to repeat 
 them. Suffice it to say, that their effect 
 upon the young girl's heart was a very
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 15? 
 
 flattering and soothing one; and, as she 
 walked slowl^^ home down the green lane, 
 and along the quiet road that skirted the 
 bright waving corn fields, a sensation of 
 exceeding happiness, and keen enjoyment 
 of life, filled her whole spii'it, and made the 
 world around her appear strewed ^ith 
 those lost flowers of paradise, which youth- 
 ful eves are still pri^-ileged, occasionally, 
 to discover amidst life's bitter weeds. 
 
 It is so sweet to feel one's self the object 
 of warm affection ; to know that when we 
 come, there vriH be smiles of welcome, and 
 of joy; and, when we go, there will be 
 tears of sadness and regret. The blessed 
 art of winning love comprises such dee]) 
 and ever freshening som^ces of happiness. 
 It is the good fairy's birth-gift to a few 
 favoured mortals ; though, sometimes a 
 less kindly spirit ^vill try to hamper even 
 tills di^dne treasure ^vith a cm-se. 
 
 But, of the curse that mai/ attend the 
 power of inspiring love, the young, glad- 
 some heart knows nothing ; and Theresa
 
 158 THE student's wife. 
 
 Berrington saw no dark or sombre thread 
 amongst the gay fabric her busy thoughts 
 were weaving — heard no wailing note 
 amidst the enchanting melodies which 
 rang that sweet sunime 
 pure and innocent heart. 
 
 rang that sweet summer evening in her 
 
 " Welcome, welcome ! my little rose- 
 bud," exclaimed Dr. Berrington, gaily, as 
 his daughter, looking the type of all fair 
 things, entered the cheerful parlour, where, 
 with his wife and La^Tcnce Singleton, the 
 disabled rector was sitting. '' You are a 
 dear child for coming home to us ; so, when 
 your mother has kissed away one of those 
 blooming cheeks, let me try what I can do 
 with the other. And, what's the news, 
 Tessie, what's the news ?" 
 
 '' Yom^s or mine, papa?" asked Theresa, 
 smilingly, as she disengaged herself from 
 her mother's encircling arms, and ran to 
 kiss her father. 
 
 "Oh, A'ours, mv dear, of course. We 
 are all dying to hear something of Miss
 
 THE STUDENT S WIPE. 159 
 
 Ashton. But you have not spoken to Mr. 
 Singleton vet, and he is looking quite 
 jealous." 
 
 " In niT eyes, he looks only profoundly 
 indifferent to all earthly objects," said 
 Theresa, bowing, good temperedly, to the 
 young man. who had, indeed, neither ex- 
 l^ressed nor betrayed the smallest interest 
 in her return. " But I can forgive you, 
 Mr. Singleton, and, in token of it, I am 
 now going to sit doTMi, and begin cutting 
 your bread and butter for you."' 
 
 "You are extremely kind," he replied, 
 colouring a very little, and smiling about 
 as much. " I hope you have enjoyed yoiu' 
 visit." 
 
 " Oh, above everytliing," said Theresa, 
 opening her blue eyes at tliis unexpected 
 courtesy ; " and so would you, I am sm^, 
 if you had been favoured, as I have, with 
 the societv of one of the most charmins:, 
 clever, and amiable young ladies in the 
 world." 
 
 " And is Miss Ashton indeed all this ?"
 
 160 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 asked Mrs. Berrington, drawing her cliair 
 to the table, and preparing for a little cosy 
 family gossip. 
 
 " Dear mamma, she is really a darling, 
 delightful creature — not a bit stiff, or 
 proud, or reserved, at least not with me ; 
 and so sensible and clever, that if she were 
 less good-natured I should be quite afraid 
 of her." 
 
 ''But, Tessie, you have forgotten the 
 chief point in your description, and one 
 concerning which I see your poor mother 
 and Mr. Singleton are in an agony of 
 curiosity. In a word, is Miss Ashton 
 pretty?" 
 
 '* Oh, papa, it is you who are curious," 
 said Theresa, laughingly; "and I shall 
 punish your slander of Mr. Singleton by 
 not answering the question, unless he 
 thinks proper to ask it. Now, who will 
 be in an agony, I wonder ?" 
 
 " Why, Tessie, you have become quite 
 mischievous," said her delighted father, 
 gazing with pride and fondness at his
 
 THE STUDENT'S WIFE. 161 
 
 child's sparkling eyes, as she turned from 
 him to look at the grave aad silent Law- 
 rence. " Come," addressing the latter, 
 " you are bound, now, for all om- sakes, to 
 propose the momentous question concern- 
 ing Miss Ashton's personal attractions." 
 
 The slightest possible expression of im- 
 patience appeared, for a moment, on the 
 face of the individual thus appealed to; 
 but he shook it off, and said, with a laud- 
 able attempt at appearing interested — 
 " Pray, then. Miss Berrington, keep us no 
 longer in suspense. Is this new friend of 
 yours pretty?" 
 
 " Shall I give you a full length portrait 
 of her?" 
 
 "As you please. I promise to pay 
 attention." 
 
 " Well, then, we must begin at the head, 
 I suppose, or rather at the eyes, if we wish 
 to be correct. These are of a dark grey, 
 rather large, and very soft and earnest in 
 expression. The head is classically shaped, 
 and adorned with rich brown hair, simply
 
 162 THE student's wipe. 
 
 braided over a wide, intellectual forehead. 
 The nose and mouth are what I must call 
 passable ; but the teeth are beautiful ; and 
 the figure of my portrait is remarkably 
 graceful and stately ; with hands and feet 
 that might be taken for models, if you 
 could fancy any one so dignified and re- 
 tiring as Caroline Ashton, submitting to 
 display her attractions." 
 
 " Bravo, bravo, Tessie," cried the rector ; 
 '' you will be writing a novel one of these 
 days ;" while Lawrence Singleton, after 
 keeping his eyes fixed on the former 
 speaker for a longer period than attention 
 to her description warranted, suddenly 
 turned away, and forgot to make a single 
 comment on what she had been telling 
 him. 
 
 That same evening Theresa communi- 
 cated to her mother all that she had heard 
 respecting Mrs. Ashton' s desire of marry- 
 ing Caroline to Lawrence, as well as Caro- 
 line's determination of avoiding an intro- 
 duction to him.
 
 THE student's WIFE. 163 
 
 "But you know, mamma," continued 
 this foolish, romantic child, '* there is no 
 reason against their liking each other ; and 
 I have a presentiment that it Avill end in a 
 charming wedding, at which Lawrence will 
 forget whether he is the bridegroom or 
 father, and, perhaps, conclude by putting 
 the ring on the finger of the old pew opener ; 
 that is to say, if love does not transform him 
 into a rational being." 
 
 "My dear Theresa," replied Mrs. Berring- 
 ton, gravely, "I am much vexed at all this 
 nonsense ; and I do entreat that you will 
 avoid mixing yourself up with anything of 
 the kind. Mrs. Asliton might, at least, 
 have reserved her plots against this young 
 man until he ceased to be Dr. Berrington's 
 pupil." 
 
 Theresa said no more to her mother; 
 but she had so welcomed and caressed the 
 idea of being the means of helping a love 
 match between the dreamy Lawrence 
 Singleton and the sensible Caroline Ash- 
 ton, that she could not be expected to 
 abandon it all at once.
 
 164 THE student's wife. 
 
 Young people generally commence their 
 initiation into the mysteries of human pas- 
 sion by meddling, either in imagination or 
 reality, with the love affairs of others.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Theresa did not visit the cottage again 
 for several days, as her mother required 
 her assistance in preparing for the recep- 
 tion of another pupil whom Dr. Berrington 
 had succeeded in obtaining. And this was 
 the hit of news with which he had at- 
 tempted to bribe his daughter to return 
 home. 
 
 The honom-able Arthur Cressingham was 
 destined by his parents for a parliamentary 
 career ; and having idled away two or three 
 terms at Oxford, he had been suddenly 
 seized with a desire to redeem the time so 
 foolishly squandered; and meeting, acci- 
 dently, vdih the rector's advertisement, he 
 had proposed to his father to spend a few 
 months at Elderton, for the purpose of 
 carrying out his new and laudable am-
 
 166 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 
 
 bition. To this plan no opposition was 
 made; and after the exchange of one or 
 two letters between the father and Dr. 
 Berrington, every arrangement was com- 
 pleted, and a not very distant day fixed for 
 the arrival of the aristocratic pupil. 
 
 Theresa was walking in the garden one 
 evening, in rather a thoughtful mood, for 
 her mother had been lecturing her that 
 afternoon for always talking to Lawrence 
 Singleton about Caroline Ashton, even 
 when it was clear that the subject wearied 
 him. She was reflecting now that it cer- 
 tainly was very silly of her to try, by 
 simple praise of a person he had never 
 seen, to make any impression on a heart 
 so evidently steeled against all soft emo- 
 tions, so far above the weakness — poor 
 Theresa fancied— of an every- day attach- 
 ment. Her father had told her that Law- 
 rence had brilliant talents, but that his 
 mind was too dreamy and speculative to 
 render them generally apparent. The rec- 
 tor had said, also, that his pupil was of a
 
 THE student's WIFE. 167 
 
 strangely melancholy and contemplative 
 character ; and the simple-minded Theresa, 
 coupling this with his frequent abstrac- 
 tions, his seeming indifference to the trivial- 
 ities of life, and his occasional bursts of 
 excited feeling when anything beautiful, 
 either in art or nature, roused him from 
 himself — invested the reserved and unsoci- 
 able young man not only with a mind far 
 superior to any she had yet encountered, 
 but with a heart capable of the deepest and 
 tenderest passion, which was to be reserved 
 till he found one worthy to inspire emo- 
 tions so immeasurably above the ordinary 
 standard. 
 
 It is a cpmmon thing to connect a lofty 
 intellect with a warm and sensitive heart, 
 to believe that, because a person possesses 
 a keen appreciation of physical and moral 
 beauty, that he must necessarily have 
 deeper capabilities for loving, and stronger 
 inclinations for virtue, than his fellow 
 men. It is, assuredly, very possible that 
 wealth of heart and mind may be united
 
 168 THE student's wife. 
 
 in the same individual, but it certainly 
 is not a general rule ; and I believe the 
 man of intellect will far more frequently 
 be found entirely destitute of warm human 
 feelings than possessing them in equal pro- 
 portion to the qualities and powers of his 
 mind. 
 
 Theresa Berrington, however, was quite 
 of an opposite opinion, for, in the few 
 works of romantic fiction she had read, 
 the heroes were of course miracles, both 
 in head and heart ; and those who, like 
 Lawrence Singleton, appeared in the first 
 instance cold and passionless, always awoke 
 at last as from a dark dream, and exhibited 
 emotions whose wild intensity was only 
 surpassed by their rock-like firmness and 
 immutability. 
 
 On the pattern of one of these charming 
 heroes the rector's daughter had modelled 
 all that was mysterious and incomprehen- 
 sible in Lawrence Singleton's character; 
 and she was wondering whether, after all 
 Caroline Ashton would be sufficiently high-
 
 THE STUDENT S WIEE. 169 
 
 souled to suit the requirements of such an 
 ethereal individual, when a sudden turn 
 in the thickly bordered and \Yinding path 
 she had chosen, brought her face to face 
 with the subject of her meditations — with 
 Lawrence Singleton — not absorbed, as 
 usual, with one of his worshipped books, 
 but walking slowly, and apparently enjoy- 
 ing the silent scene and hour. 
 
 " It is a pleasant evening," said Theresa, 
 when her first quick blush had partially 
 died away. " But what a wonder, Mr. 
 Singleton, to see you mthout a book !" 
 
 " There are books on everv side of me," 
 he replied, ^^dth one of those earnest 
 glances that have been before alluded to. 
 " I am reading from nature now. Do you 
 not think that it is the fairest and clearest 
 page of all ?" 
 
 " Indeed I do," said Theresa, irresistibly 
 flattered by her companion putting a ques- 
 tion of this sort to her. ^' I have always 
 loved the country dearly." 
 
 " Have you ever lived in a town ?" 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 " Yes ; but not a large one. I think I 
 should be miserable in London." 
 
 " Even if you had a fine house, and gave 
 parties, and went to balls, and were very 
 much sought after and admired ?" 
 
 Lawrence said this with a sort of incre- 
 dulous smile, as though he felt a certain 
 conviction that no female heart could be 
 indiflPerent to such things. And Theresa 
 answered, indignantly, — 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Singleton, I thank you for 
 your opinion of me and of my sex. I see 
 by your look that, whatever I might say, 
 you would retain your very flattering 
 impression of us ; therefore, it would be 
 useless" 
 
 " Nay," interrupted Lawrence, fairly 
 smiling at the emotion he had excited ; " I 
 promise to believe implicitly whatever you 
 may tell me. What can I know about 
 women's tastes and feelings ? I have had 
 no opportunity of judging any, save my 
 mother, and she is no longer young and 
 enthusiastic."
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 171 
 
 Theresa was more than appeased, and, 
 as Lawrence actually 'turned and walked 
 on by her side, she said, with unusual 
 softness, — 
 
 '* Then believe me, Mr. Singleton, when 
 I assiu'e you that in my dreams of the 
 futm^, neither a fine house, nor gaiety, nor 
 general admbation have had any place. 
 Oh, it is something far — far different, my 
 idea of happiness !" 
 
 *' What is it. Miss Berrington ? I should 
 like to hear." 
 
 There was something so exceedingly 
 nm/ce in the way this question was p^^t, 
 such an evident unconsciousness, on Law- 
 rence's part, that he was asking no less than 
 the most treasured and sacred thoughts of 
 a young gM's heart, that Theresa, though 
 she was certainly astonished, could not be 
 offended with him. She replied only, in a 
 low tone of voice, — 
 
 " It would not interest you or any one, 
 Mr. Singleton. Be satisfied in knowing 
 what it is notP 
 
 I 2
 
 172 THE student's wife. 
 
 Lawrence said no more about it, but 
 continued walking near Theresa, as if wil- 
 ling to prolong the first tete-a-tete they 
 had ever had. The latter sought anxiously 
 in her somewhat bewildered brain for a 
 subject likely to please her companion, but 
 none suggested itself, now that Caroline 
 Ashton was forbidden; and feeling every 
 minute more embarrassed and ill at ease, 
 she stopped abruptly as they were approach- 
 ing a more secluded part of the garden, and 
 said, — 
 
 "I am afraid mamma will be wanting_ 
 me now, so good bye till tea time." 
 
 "Why are you going away? Do not 
 leave me yet," replied the young man 
 quickly, but with as much coolness as if 
 he were addressing a child. 
 
 Theresa hesitated. A strange, undefina- 
 ble sensation fluttered at her heart. Por 
 a moment the green trees seemed to dance 
 before her sight, the firm ground to giv^e 
 way beneath her tread ; but all this passed, 
 and then, with an unwonted paleness on
 
 173 
 
 her cheek, she gently declined the invita- 
 tion to remain, and walked, with a slow 
 and very thoughtful step into the house. 
 
 The next day Theresa asked and ob- 
 tained her mother's permission to spend 
 the afternoon with Mrs. Eorrest ; and set- 
 ting out as soon as their early dinner was 
 over, she reached the cottage just as Caro- 
 line had left the widow to enjoy her now 
 daily siesta, and was going to write letters 
 in her own room. 
 
 " But I am delisrhted to see you," said 
 the latter, with eyery appearance of sin- 
 cerity. *' Come up stairs, and I will find 
 you the books I promised ; and you must 
 admu^e my harp and piano, which are both 
 now unpacked. I am so glad to find that 
 Mrs. Forrest likes music. But, surely, you 
 are not well, my dear Miss Berrington; 
 you look quite pale and dejected." 
 
 "Indeed! I was never better," replied 
 Theresa, eagerly ; " but it is so warm to 
 day, and I walked fast. You must play 
 and sing to me by and bye ; that will do 
 me good."
 
 174 THE student's wife. 
 
 They were soon seated by the open win- 
 dow of Caroline's pleasant room, looking 
 oyer books, discussing their contents, and, 
 if not quite vowing eternal friendship, 
 advancing so far towards it as to agree 
 in henceforth dropping the ceremonious 
 ''Miss," and being Caroline and Theresa 
 to each other. 
 
 "And now," said CarolinCj after they 
 had talked for more than an hour on 
 general subjects, and she fancied her com- 
 panion was looking somewhat wearied, — 
 "tell me, dear Theresa, how you and Mr. 
 Singleton are getting on. Is he more socia- 
 ble and less bearish in his manners yet ?" 
 
 Theresa did not blush — perhaps, because 
 she had all along been expecting some such 
 question — but she replied, without her 
 usual animation — "There is no great 
 change in him. I dare say he finds us 
 terribly commonplace and uncongenial. 
 Minds like Mr. Singleton's cannot bend to 
 take an interest in everyday people. I am 
 sore I wish we were different for his sake."
 
 THE student's WIFE. 175 
 
 Caroline could not help smiling as she 
 said — 
 
 " You are a very humble little body, 
 Theresa ; but this Lawrence cannot be 
 what YOU appear to imagine, if he finds 
 nothino^ to interest him in your intellect 
 and character. I have alwavs heard that 
 the loftiest minds are those which attach 
 themselves the most readily to the natural 
 and simple ones." 
 
 Theresa bent over the book she had on 
 her knee, and made no reply ; but her 
 companion saw the rich blood mantle on 
 her cheek, and heard the Httle, half 
 smothered sigh, that told less of grief 
 than of emotion, which must be con- 
 cealed. Nevertheless Caroline continued, 
 unpityingly — 
 
 **As I am Groins; to denv mvself the 
 gratification of becoming personally ac- 
 quainted vrith. Mr. Singleton, you must 
 tell me all his oddities, and describe the 
 process of the socializing system upon 
 him, Theresa. It will amuse me."
 
 176 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 
 
 " But I shall soon see less of him than 
 I have hitherto done ; for papa has another 
 pupil coming in a few days, and then 
 mamma intends altering all our domestic 
 arrangements. The young men are to 
 take their meals with papa, at a late hour, 
 and have a room to themselves in the 
 evening, unless they prefer the parlour." 
 
 '' Your mother is prudent, Theresa.*' 
 
 " Yes ; she never much approved this 
 plan of receiving pupils. But shall we 
 go down now and see Mrs. Forrest ?" 
 
 Theresa was pleased to observe that 
 the widow and her guest appeared on 
 very friendly terms, and that the former 
 had resumed all her old habits, without 
 a fear of their meeting any interruption 
 from Miss Ashton, who spent the greater 
 part of every day in her own apartments, 
 and only joined Mrs. Forrest when she 
 felt assured her society would be agreeable. 
 
 Caroline played and sang with much 
 taste and execution, and this evening her 
 talents were really a resource, as Theresa
 
 THE student's WIFE. 177 
 
 was not in her usual spirits, and, till the 
 music was thought of, a cloud seemed 
 hanging over the whole party. 
 
 "And now," said Caroline, when her 
 fino^ers and her voice were faklv ex- 
 hausted, — *'come and' see how I have 
 attended to your flowers, Theresa. Mrs. 
 Forrest seems to regard me as a novice ; 
 but I flatter myself I have done wonders 
 since you were here." 
 
 The widow walked out with her vouno' 
 friends, and thev soon fell into a cheerful 
 strain of conversation, during which the 
 tillage school, established by Dr. Berring- 
 ton, and one or two other charitable 
 institutions, under Theresa's particular 
 surveillance, were mentioned. The latter 
 asked Caroline whether she would like 
 to become a teacher in the school, or an 
 occasional \T.sitor amongst the poor, there 
 being no one but herself and Mrs. Ber- 
 rington to do all that was required in 
 this way. 
 
 " If," replied Caroline, promptly, " I can 
 
 ' i3
 
 178 THE student's wife, 
 
 be really of any ser\dce, I shall not hesitate 
 undertaking a portion of your work ; hut, 
 do not be disappointed, if my exertions 
 prove a failure ; because I acknowledge, 
 frankly, my heart will not be engaged in 
 the matter. I have no power of dividing 
 my sympathies — of doing a little here and 
 a little there. Give me one definite object 
 to accomplish, and I could set about it 
 with my whole heart and soul ; never 
 weary or grow impatient till the end was 
 attained. This is the peculiarity of my 
 disposition — an unfortunate one, perhaps ; 
 but I cannot change or modify it now." 
 
 " I think, in a general way, it loould be 
 unfortunate," said Mrs. Porrest ; '' because 
 it rarely occurs, to women at least, that 
 any great or important object is presented 
 to them. Our destinies are usually among 
 the quiet streams, which piu^sue the same 
 undeviating course from day to day, and 
 from year to year. In the lives of all 
 women there will be found thousands of 
 opportunities for the exercise of the lesser
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 179 
 
 virtues of humanity ; while, perhaps, not 
 one in a hundred ever meets an occasion 
 for concentrating her energies on an indi- 
 ^ddual object." 
 
 On one really worthy of undivided in- 
 terest, perhaps not," replied Caroline; ''but 
 I should imasrine it was no uncommon 
 case to find a woman merging every care 
 and hope into a solitary passion, and pur- 
 suing this, whether it he love, fame, am- 
 bition, or even revenge, with an energy 
 that no minor objects would ever, for an 
 instant, lure aside." 
 
 " It may be that such cases are common 
 enough," said Mrs. Eorrest, who was not, 
 however, a very profound reasoner upon 
 human nature ; " but I meant that for a 
 right-thinking woman, whose passions are 
 under her control, and who takes religion 
 for her guide, there will rarely arise oppor- 
 timities of exercising, T\ith profit, the 
 power of concentration, which you say you 
 possess." 
 
 *' I agree with you, dear Mrs. Forrest; nor
 
 180 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 do I ever anticipate that my capabilities 
 in this respect will find any field for dis- 
 play; but what says this little, pensive, 
 listening friend of ours ? Theresa Ber- 
 rington, you are called upon to make a 
 speech, having reference to the last topic 
 of conversation." 
 
 ** Indeed ! I am too ignorant to do any- 
 thing but listen," replied Theresa, rous- 
 ing herself from a profound reverie, which 
 had, probably, prevented her from bene- 
 fitting by Caroline's wisdom so much as 
 she otherwise would have done. "And, 
 indeed, it is time for me to say good bye. 
 Mamma gave me strict orders not to re- 
 main too late." 
 
 " Well, God bless you, dear child," said 
 Mrs. Porrest, kissing her with much affec- 
 tion ; " and mind, when you next make 
 your appearance, not to forget your smiles, 
 as you certainly have done to-day." 
 
 "If you do," added Caroline, running 
 after Theresa to the gate, " I shall seriously 
 recommend Mrs. Berrington to send you
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 181 
 
 somewhere for change of ah^; unless the 
 honourable Arthur Cressingham should 
 happen to be provided with a better pre- 
 scription." 
 
 "Don't tease me, Caroline," said poor 
 Theresa, meekly. " I have such a head- 
 ache this evening, and nobody, you know, 
 can be always gay." 
 
 *' Come soon, then, and I will let you 
 be as dull as you please. Shall we see 
 you to-morrow?" 
 
 " I fear not. Mr. Cressingham arrives 
 the day after, and mamma will be so 
 busy." 
 
 " Ah ! that Mr. Cressingham, Theresa ! 
 I fear he will monopolize you quite." 
 
 " Mr. Cressingham indeed ! — but good 
 night, Caroline; I will bring you all the 
 news in a day or two."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Mrs. Eorrest and Miss Ashton certainly 
 got on much better together than the 
 former had dared to hope they would do ; 
 but still there was nothing in the slightest 
 degree confidential in their intercourse at 
 present, and although the widow saw 
 much to admire and esteem in Caroline's 
 character, she could not regard her as a 
 loveable person, nor conquer her former 
 prejudices so far as to agree in the very 
 exalted opinion Theresa had formed of 
 their new acquaintance. If Caroline had 
 been a weak, or a timid, or a sickly girl, 
 the tender-hearted Mrs. Porrest would 
 have felt attracted towards her at once: 
 but as she happened to be strong-minded, 
 self-relying, and remarkably healthy, sym- 
 pathy and pity were quite uncalled for;
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 183 
 
 and Caroline Ashton was not endowed 
 with tliat fascinating art which, even with- 
 out any of these gentle pleas for human 
 love, uu^esistibly compels attachment. 
 
 Mrs. Eorrest was careful, however, to 
 conceal from her guest that she felt any 
 uncongeniality between them ; and if Caro- 
 line guessed that such Avas the case, it ex- 
 cited no apparent bitterness, bu.t caused 
 her rather to double her exertions for the 
 entertainment of the lonely woman upon 
 whom she knew now she had been forced 
 by her ambitious and ill-judging mother. 
 
 That a young, thoughtful girl could 
 be quite happy mider such • circumstances 
 was not, of course, to be expected; but 
 Caroline never complained, rarely looked 
 melancholy, and quietly pursued the 
 " even tenor of her way," trusting, per- 
 haps, that time or circumstance would, 
 sooner or later, bring a recompense for the 
 trials she now so patiently endured. 
 
 Mrs. Porrest made up her mind, at last, 
 to break the subject of Philip Maranham's
 
 184 THE STUDENT^S WIFE. 
 
 proposed visit ; and the manner in which 
 Caroline received the intelligence would 
 have won any heart less obstinately closed 
 against her. The poor, nervous aunt, after 
 a brief prelude concerning Philip's parents 
 and his own disappointment at Mr. Mahon's 
 death, drew forth the letter in which he 
 announced his intention of coming to 
 Elderton, and read the greater part of it to 
 her attentive auditor, pausing when it was 
 finished to see whether the latter would 
 volunteer any observation by which the 
 amount of her horror at the anticipated 
 invasion might be guessed. But Caroline 
 only smiled calmly, and said — 
 
 " What a pleasure it will be for you to 
 become acquainted with the son of your 
 poor sister. You must be counting the 
 days till he arrives." 
 
 Mrs. Eorrest thought she was in a dream. 
 '' But such a wild young man, my dear ; 
 and then those terrible dogs — whatever 
 will you do ?" 
 
 Caroline laughed now outright. "Oh
 
 THE student's WIFE. 185 
 
 never mind the dogs. I, for my part, will 
 keep as much as I can out of their way, and 
 we must manage to render then kennel so 
 attractive that they ^vill not care for being 
 in the house." 
 
 '* It is really very good of you to make 
 light of a circumstance that must be most 
 annoying,' said ^Irs. Forrest, in increasing 
 astonishment; ''but I fear a wild, noisy, 
 probably careless and untidy, yoimg man 
 constantly about the house will entnely 
 destroy your comfort." 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Eorrest, you must not 
 suffer these evils to appear greater than 
 they are. If your nephew should turn out 
 wild, we will tame him ; if he is noisy, we 
 will make him quiet. And should he also 
 prove both careless and untidy, why his 
 visit cannot last for ever, and we must just 
 bear with him while it does." 
 
 " Miss Ashton, you are certainly a phi- 
 losopher. But suppose, for a moment, 
 that we can neither tame Philip nor liis 
 dogs, and that all three continue noisy,
 
 186 THE student's wipe. 
 
 destructive, and troublesome, will not your 
 patience fail even then ?" 
 
 *' I hope not. I have no fears on the 
 subject. And have we not Theresa to 
 assist us in chaining this formidable spirit ? 
 I have unlimited faith in A^r powers." 
 
 Mrs. Eorrest sighed. " Ah, that is just 
 the last thing to be desired, and yet how 
 exceedingly probable." 
 
 " What do you mean ? I assure you I 
 only spoke jestingly." 
 
 " But it is, nevertheless, one of my most 
 serious apprehensions, that Philip and 
 Theresa may take a fancy to each other, 
 and then" — wringing her hands, as she 
 always did when nervously excited — " and 
 then, what should we do ?" 
 
 " Let them marry, I suppose," said Caro- 
 line, quietly ; '' but I have an idea that this, 
 at least, will prove a groundless apprehen- 
 sion. If Susan's report of the personal 
 attractions of Mr. Arthur Cressingham is 
 to be credited, he may turn out a for- 
 midable rival for the smiles of your little 
 friend."
 
 THE student's WIFE. 187 
 
 " Well, that would be better, in a worldly 
 sense," replied Mrs. Porrest. '' But why 
 should not Theresa and you, and all who 
 are not positively miserable, remain unfet- 
 tered by closer ties ? How can people 
 imagine that by increasing their sources 
 of anxiety, they will increase their hap- 
 piness. Surely, it is -wiser to continue on 
 the safe side." 
 
 " Por my o^^tl part, I quite agree with 
 you," said Caroline ; *' and it must be a 
 more than common temj)tation, which 
 would change my settled purpose of join- 
 ing the despised band of venerable spinsters, 
 and preserving the independence that I 
 love. But I have not the smallest ambi- 
 tion to convert the world in general to my 
 opinions on this subject ; and, as far as 
 Theresa is concerned, I think it would be 
 a thousand pities even to make the at- 
 tempt. She is so eminently loving and 
 loveable." 
 
 ''And, therefore, more likely to encounter 
 trials in a married life. But this is an
 
 188 THE student's wife. 
 
 idle discussion after all; and I have to 
 
 write to my nephew by to-night's post." 
 « « « ^ ^ 
 
 The next time Theresa came to the 
 cottage, her accustomed cheerfulness had 
 returned; and she amused Mrs. Porrest 
 and Caroline by a description of the elegant 
 Arthur Cressingham, and the pains he 
 took to adorn his certainly very handsome 
 person, and the contempt with which he 
 evidently regarded the neglected toilette 
 and ungraceful manners of his fellow pupil, 
 Lawrence Singleton. 
 
 " Who repays this contempt with indif- 
 ference, I hope," said Caroline. 
 
 ''Exactly," replied Theresa. "I really 
 believe that Lawrence is scarcely conscious 
 of this important addition to our circle." 
 
 " And do you see much less of Mr. 
 Singleton than formerly ?" 
 
 There was a momentary hesitation, and 
 a quick but flitting blush ; and then The- 
 resa said — 
 
 " Yes ; mamma has carried out her
 
 THE student's WIFE. 189 
 
 plans, and she and I take all oiu- meals 
 alone. However, I still see a good deal of 
 both the young men, as they generally 
 come into the garden when I am working 
 there; and Mr. Singleton, who does not 
 smoke, like his companion, sometimes 
 assists me in weeding and tying up my 
 flowers." 
 
 Caroline smiled to herself, but made no 
 remark ; and Mrs. Forrest said — 
 
 " I am glad he is growing more rational. 
 And do you like him better, my dear ?" 
 
 *'Yes, certainly better; but you must 
 see Arthur Cressingham. I am sure he 
 would amuse you.*' 
 
 Theresa stayed that evening to tea, and 
 forgot afterwards, in the fascination of 
 Caroline's music, that she had promised 
 her mother to be home very early. When 
 this circumstance was first remembered a 
 heavy shower of rain was falling, and her 
 friends would not hear of her starting until 
 it was over. 
 
 It was not over so soon as they expected,
 
 190 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 and Mrs. Porrest had just desired Susan 
 to prepare herself for taking Miss Berring- 
 ton to the rectory, when a sharp ring at 
 the garden hell announced a visitor, and 
 was speedily followed hy the entrance of 
 the honourable Arthur Cressingham, in 
 propynd persona. 
 
 He came in with a considerable degree 
 of assurance ; and after bowing gracefully 
 to all the ladies, he addressed himself par- 
 ticularly to Theresa, stating that Mrs. Ber- 
 rington, being uneasy at her daughter's 
 prolonged absence, had requested one of 
 the gentlemen to go in search of the truant 
 — Dr. Berrington having, unfortunately left 
 home about an hour before, and the ser- 
 vants being, one and all, immersed in 
 raspberry jam. 
 
 Theresa could not help smiling, with the 
 others, at this account, which was given 
 with much quiet humour ; but there was, 
 notwithstanding, some concealed source of 
 annoyance in what she now heard, which 
 neither escaped the observation of Caroline
 
 THE student's WIFE. 191 
 
 Ashton nor of Arthur Cressingliam, who, 
 after watching her for a few minutes, said, 
 with affected carelessness — 
 
 '^ By the bye, your mamma said you had 
 promised to he home in time to label some 
 scores of this delicious jam to-night ; and 
 I perceive, by your countenance, that you 
 are anticipating a maternal lecture for 
 playing the truant. Allow me to act as 
 mediator between you. I am in high 
 favour at present, having assisted in trans- 
 porting a cargo of little white pots from 
 the kitchen to the store room." 
 
 " You are very obliging," replied The- 
 resa, bestowing upon him anything but a 
 grateful look. " I need not, however, 
 avail myself of your mediation in the pre- 
 sent instance, because I have no fear of 
 mamma's anger. If you will wait two 
 minutes I shall be readv to return with 
 you, though I am sorry mamma should 
 have given you the trouble of coming." 
 
 " Miss Berrington cannot deem the hon- 
 our conferred on me anything but a lively
 
 192 THE student's wife. 
 
 pleasure," said the young man, warmly; 
 and as Theresa, without noticing this 
 speech, was ahout to leave the room, he 
 added — " I ought, by the way, to mention 
 that Singleton would have offered to come, 
 only he was in the middle of a Greek exer- 
 cise, and thought he might lose the place 
 if he left it. I like to do justice to every- 
 body." 
 
 How Theresa received this flattering 
 announcement, or whether she appreciated 
 the honourable Arthur's conscientiousness 
 as it deserved, is not upon record, for she 
 closed the drawing-room door abruptly as 
 the last words were uttered ; and when she 
 reappeared her veil was down, and the 
 adieux were hurried over on account of the 
 growing darkness. 
 
 The inmates of the cottage saw no more 
 of her for a fortnight.
 
 CHAPTER XY, 
 
 Two scenes occurred diu^ing this fort- 
 night which I am now going to exhibit to 
 the reader. 
 
 Lawrence Singleton sat alone one morn- 
 insr in Dr. BerrinsTton's study. He had. 
 refused an invitation to accompany the 
 rector and Mr. Cressingham to Oxendean, 
 and was deep in some metaphysical work 
 he had chanced to stumble upon. 
 
 Suddenly the door opened gently, a light 
 footstep sounded on the floor, and looking 
 uj), he saw Theresa advancing, with ap- 
 parent reluctance, to the part of the room 
 where he was sittins^. 
 
 " Mr. Singleton," she said — " mamma 
 has sent me to ask whether you would like 
 to have your duiner ^vith us at two o'clock, 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 THE STUDENT S WII'E. 
 
 or wait for papa and Mr. Cressingham. 
 You are to do exactly which you prefer." 
 
 After looking at the speaker almost 
 tenderly for a minute or two, he replied, 
 eagerly — 
 
 '' Oh ! I will dine with you, by all means, 
 if I may. Come here, now, and talk to 
 me a little. I am weary of metaphysics." 
 
 To her very brow the rich blood sprang 
 impetuously, and one who watched might 
 have detected the tremulous motion of the 
 small hand that was suddenly raised, as if 
 to ward off the too -glowing sunbeams from 
 her dazzled eyes. 
 
 " But I cannot stay," she said, at las^, 
 "because mamma told me to make haste ; 
 and — and you will soon forget that you 
 wanted me." 
 
 Lawrence smiled faintly, as he replied — 
 
 " What strange creatures women are 1 
 Should you like me to say that I could not 
 forget it, that I shall think of nothing else 
 all the morning ?" 
 
 Theresa's lip quivered.
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 195 
 
 '' Indeed, Mr. Singleton, I do not ^ish 
 for any empty compliments, and I would 
 much rather that you said no more about 
 it." 
 
 '' But you will leave me ?" 
 
 '' I must." 
 
 " But if you need not, would you ?" 
 
 '' I do not know." 
 
 *' Well, then, go ; I will not detain you." 
 
 Still Theresa lingered. Her blue eyes 
 were becoming liquid ; her heart was beat- 
 ing thickly ; but the student did not speak. 
 He was once more intent upon the hateful, 
 senseless book, and apparently unconscious 
 of not being alone. 
 
 Poor, poor Theresa ! She knew she ought 
 to go ; she felt she had l)een dismissed, but 
 pride and dignity must concede one parting 
 word, one parting glance, and both should 
 be icy cold — cold as his own. 
 
 "Then good morning, Mr. Singleton. 
 You will try to remember two o'clock." 
 
 He looked up quickly. Thek eyes met, 
 and smiling as he had done at first, he 
 replied gently, — k 2
 
 196 THE student's wife. 
 
 " I will remember." 
 
 The next scene took place about a week 
 after this; but there was another actor 
 in it. 
 
 Theresa went one evening, when the 
 sun had set, to tie up some roses which 
 a heavy rain in the morning had beaten 
 down. She had announced her intention 
 publicly, and it is not improbable that she 
 expected one or both of her father's pupils 
 would join her in the labour, or, at least, 
 lighten it by their society. But nearly an 
 hour passed, and her hopes — if she enter- 
 tained any on the subject — must have been 
 rapidly decreasing, when the sound of foot- 
 steps on the gravel path suddenly struck 
 upon her ear, and sent the treacherous 
 blood dancing wildly over her face and 
 neck, and performing yet fiercer evolu- 
 tions in the region of the heart. 
 
 Theresa had been singing gently to her- 
 self, as she pursued her light labours ; and 
 the words '' I love and I am loved," bor- 
 rowed from some popular ballad of the
 
 THE student's WIFE. 197 
 
 day, died upon her lips as she turned to 
 greet the new comer, and, perchance, to 
 inquire why she had been left so long 
 alone. 
 
 ** Oh ! Mr. Cressingham, is it you .^" 
 pronounced by the young lady, in a tone 
 that was not very flattering to the in- 
 dividual addressed, began the conversation 
 between them. 
 
 *' I certainly am unfortunate enough, in 
 the present instance, to be myself, and 
 none other," answered the young man, 
 with a slight tincture of irony in his man- 
 ner. "But will you honour me by em- 
 ploying tliese idle fingers, and, in the 
 meantime, give repose to your OT^'n, which 
 are too fairy like for such rude occupation ?" 
 
 Theresa tore off an obstinate shoot, 
 impatiently, before she deigned a reply ; 
 and then it was — *' I am much obKged to 
 you, but I have nothing for you to do now. 
 The work is finished." 
 
 ** Ah !" he said, kneeling on the smooth 
 turf beside her, and insisting on holding
 
 198 THE student's wife. 
 
 up the tendrils of a creeping plant slie was 
 trying to coax round a wire stand, — '' I 
 deserve the implied reproof; and, upon 
 my honour, I intended offering my ser- 
 vices an hour ago. But the fact is, 
 Singleton persuaded me to take a stroll 
 with him ; and, I helieve, we lost our way 
 in those romantic wilds he is so enamoured 
 of. Miss Berrington, you are looking in- 
 credulous ; hut ask Singleton whether my 
 statement is not correct." 
 
 Theresa turned round suddenly, expect- 
 ing to hehold him to whom she was 
 referred, hut no one was visible except 
 the kneeling figure at her side; and as 
 she bent again over her task, with indif- 
 ferently concealed disappointment, Mr. 
 Ores sin gham said, quietly — 
 
 '' Oh, you will have to wait some little 
 time ere you make the appeal to the inter- 
 resting and accomplished Lawrence ; for 
 I left him, in the most exalted heroics, at 
 the bottom of the picturesque lane where 
 your charming friends reside. It chanced
 
 THE STUDENT'S WIFE. 199 
 
 that, as we accidentally strolled in that 
 direction, the sound of raA'ishing music, 
 accompanying a female voice, reached our 
 delighted ears ; and when, after a quarter 
 of an hoiu^'s patient listening, I ventured 
 to remind my companion that it was gro\^'- 
 ing late, he waved liis hand indignantly, 
 with a glance that plainly said — " Begone, 
 thou soulless clod of earth ;" so I took the 
 hint, and vanished. But, Miss Berrington, 
 I, also, love music ; and a few faint, silvery 
 notes that the sweet evening hreeze wafted 
 to me, as I entered the garden, have awak- 
 ened so powerful a desire to hear more, 
 that I do most earnestlv entreat of vou to 
 gratify me. It was a delicious song you 
 were warhling, ' I love and I am loved' — 
 the very sentiment, I am convinced, to 
 which you would give exquisite and 
 thrillino^ eflPect." 
 
 When Theresa looked up at the conclu- 
 sion of this ramhling address, there was a 
 strange agitation in her face, and a hurried 
 absence of manner — so to speak — which
 
 200 THE student's wife. 
 
 by no means escaped the notice of her 
 companion. 
 
 "Won't you sing" to me?" he added, 
 presently, with a most insinuating soft- 
 ness. 
 
 " Oh ! I cannot sing — I know nothing 
 of music," said Theresa, abruptly, as she 
 threw down her garden implements and 
 unceremoniously walked away. 
 
 Arthur Cressingham watched her, for a 
 few minutes, with a considerable degree of 
 complacency expressed in his handsome 
 face. Then he muttered some sentence 
 to himself, in which the words, " exquisite 
 child of nature !" alone were audible ; and 
 lighting a cigar from a match-box he car- 
 ried in his pocket, sauntered leisurely in 
 an opposite direction to the one Theresa 
 had taken. 
 
 The latter went straight into the house, 
 and met Lawrence Singleton coming 
 through the hall. He seemed intending^ 
 to pass her without even a word of recog- 
 nition ; but Theresa was excited, and she 
 said —
 
 THE student's WIFE. 201 
 
 " Good evening, Mr. Singleton. I am 
 so glad to hear you have been entertained 
 by Miss Ashton's singing. I told you 
 how clever she was — how superior in 
 every respect. Oh ! I knew she was just 
 the person to suit you." 
 
 Lawrence looked down wonderingly at 
 the pretty creature who stood before him 
 with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. 
 Por a minute or two he seemed quite at a 
 loss either to gather the purport of what 
 had been said, or to connect it in any way 
 with the speaker's evident excitement ; but 
 all at once, a smile — faint and momentary 
 — ^broke over his usually sombre counte- 
 nance, and he said, as he passed on — 
 
 " Good night, Theresa. Why don't you 
 practise singing yourself?" 
 
 K 3
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "My dear, I find I must drive over to 
 Oxendean this morning, to purchase a few 
 things which I cannot get in the village ; 
 and, as Philip will prohably arrive now in 
 a day or two, I may not have another 
 opportunity. Do you feel disposed to go 
 with me, or must I leave you to your own 
 resources until the evening ?" 
 
 " Unless I can he of any assistance to 
 you, pray, my dear Mrs. Eorrest, dispense 
 with my attendance," replied Caroline 
 Ashton, immediately ; '^ for, besides having 
 one of my tiresome headaches, I regard 
 shopping with a degree of horror not easily 
 understood. When you are gone, I will 
 try the effect of a good, brisk walk. There 
 is a delicious breeze blowing from the hills 
 this morning."
 
 THE student's WIFE. 203 
 
 In half an hour more Mrs. Forrest 
 stepped into the chaise wliich was to con- 
 vey her to the comity town in search of 
 various small luxuries she thought her 
 spoiled nephew might require ; and, at the 
 same time, Caroline went to put on her 
 bonnet, in preparation for the solitary walk 
 she had decided on undertaking. 
 
 But fate had arranged that solitary it 
 was not to be, for as one young lady 
 descended the stairs, another was on the 
 point of mounting them ; and Caroline 
 Ashton and Theresa Berrington, after a 
 very cordial greeting, agreed to proceed 
 together to a delightful, lonely spot, about 
 a mile distant, which by the country people 
 was called " The Bennel." 
 
 This was a narrow piece of table land, 
 on the side of a somewhat barren hill, 
 enclosed by a fringe of lofty elms, and 
 covered thickly with patches of the fra- 
 grant gorse, intersected here and there 
 with one of purple heather. The trees 
 threw deep shadows over a large portion of
 
 204 THE student's wife. 
 
 the isolated spot they protected, and round 
 all the country there was no place known 
 where the breezes blew so cool and fresh 
 as in this quiet and secluded *'bennel." 
 
 " I like it," said Caroline, as they walked 
 on slowly side by side, when their destina- 
 tion was agreed upon, " because the idle, 
 dirty urchins of the village have not yet 
 converted it into a play ground, and there 
 is no fear of having on^'s meditations dis- 
 turbed by the howls of some wretched 
 kitten or piippy, that these little unwashed 
 demons are torturing for their own amuse- 
 ment ; and the shade is always so deep and 
 dark, so like the subdued tints of the old 
 painters' landscapes. But why do you pre- 
 fer this desolate looking spot, Theresa ?" 
 
 '^ I never did till lately, and really I can 
 give no reason for doing so now ; only to- 
 day I long for quiet and darkness, or, at 
 least, shade — shade without one gleam of 
 sunshine. Caroline, I am very, very un- 
 happy." 
 
 "1 see you are, dear. May I enquire
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 205 
 
 the reason — or is it still a profound secret, 
 Theresa ?" 
 
 " A week or two ago I would have died 
 rather than confess what ails me ; but all 
 my pride is quenched now; I have no 
 feeling save one, and no hope to sustain 
 that one- Perhaps I ought not to tell you 
 an}i:hing about this ; and, I know I shall 
 risk your esteem, and perhaps lose your 
 friendship for ever. But, indeed, you 
 cannot guess what I suffer — how I lie 
 awake at nights, and watch the stars go 
 out ; and count the long hours, and pray 
 against that one feeling which has taken 
 such entire possession of me. I never had 
 a secret in mv life before — never cared to 
 conceal a thought ; and, I believe I shall 
 die soon, if I do not open my heart to 
 somebody ; yet, I cannot tell how to do it." 
 
 "My dear Theresa, I will spare you 
 the trouble," said Caroline, in a kind and 
 sympathyzing voice. '*I will guess your 
 secret, if I may." 
 
 Theresa trembled ^dsibly and turned
 
 206 THE student's wife. 
 
 pale. "Can you Caroline?" I do not 
 think so ; but do not try at present. Let 
 us get to the "bennel," and sit down; 
 here we might he heard. There is one 
 who finds out everything — who I could 
 fancy, reads my very thoughts. If my 
 heart had room for a second powerful 
 
 feeling, it would be hatred of . Can 
 
 you guess this too ?" 
 
 '' Yes ; but calm yourself now, Theresa. 
 I will read to you from a little book I 
 have in my pocket, till we reach our 
 resting place." 
 
 " What is it ?" 
 
 '' ' Zimmermann on Solitude.' Do you 
 know it, at all?" 
 
 Theresa started, and appeared to recoil 
 suddenly from her companion. But in 
 a minute she said, with touching sadness, 
 — " It is one of Ms chief favourites. How 
 strangely fate seems against me. Do not 
 read it aloud, Caroline. I will make 
 companions of my own thoughts till we 
 are in a more secluded spot."
 
 THE student's WIFE. 207 
 
 In a quarter of an liour they readied 
 the *' bennel," and finding a delicious little 
 nook, where the gorse sprang more thickly 
 and luxuriantly than elsewhere, and the 
 trees flung their deepest shadows, the 
 two friends seated themselves, side by 
 side; and Caroline, returning '' Zimnier- 
 mann" to its original hiding place, prepared 
 to act the part of confidante to her still 
 trembling and blushing companion. 
 
 *' Well, Theresa, we are now away from 
 all the world, and my first guess is this — 
 you love Lawrence Singleton." 
 
 A few tears falling down her bmming 
 cheeks constituted Theresa's answer; and 
 Caroline continued — 
 
 '' Of course, I am not in the least sur- 
 prised — nothing could be more natural; 
 and, except that you look so unfeignedly 
 miserable, I should ofier you my warmest 
 congratulations. Now tell me, if you can, 
 whence this despondency arises ?" 
 
 " Oh ! Caroline, what a question ! How 
 can you, for one moment, suppose that he 
 cares one atom for me ?"
 
 208 THE student's wife. 
 
 " Yet you, yourself, must have imagined 
 so once, Theresa, or your attachment could 
 not have ripened so rapidly as it appears 
 to have done." 
 
 " Caroline, you make me feel my degra- 
 dation ; but it is right I should. And you 
 do not know Lawrence. If you did, you 
 would understand that he is one to be 
 loved — worshipped, even — mthout any 
 effort of his ot^ti. I think he looks upon 
 me as a silly child — and, indeed, I am 
 little else; but what I feel for him has 
 matured my heart more than years of 
 ordinary experience could have done. I 
 had always fancied the passion of love 
 a dream of delight ; to me it is simple, 
 though continuous suffering." 
 
 "Poor child! you are, indeed, altered, 
 lately. But I have yet much to learn. 
 Tell me, first, the reasons you had for 
 imagining Mr. Singleton liked you; and 
 then let me hear those you now entertain 
 for fearing the reverse." 
 
 "But the first are so slight, so ridi-
 
 THE student's WIFE. 209 
 
 culous, and the last so clear and unmis- 
 takable, that you will despise me as the 
 weakest and vainest creature in the world." 
 
 " Perhaps not, Theresa ; but, in any 
 case, let me know all you have to tell." 
 
 " Well, then, it began by his constantly 
 fixing his eyes on me in the most earnest 
 manner. I do not mean that my admira- 
 tion of Lawrence originated thus, for to 
 that I can affix no date, unless it might 
 be the day when Mrs. Porrest repeated a 
 conversation she had held with him in 
 returning one night from the rectory ; but 
 I mean that this habit of looking at me so 
 constantly first awoke in my mind an idea 
 that I was not altogether an object of 
 indifference to him. But how you will 
 despise me, Caroline, for these confes- 
 sions ! " 
 
 " Not at all. Your conclusion was per- 
 fectly natural and reasonable. But what 
 came next ?" 
 
 " He met me one day in the garden ; 
 and after some conversation — as I was
 
 210 THE STUDENT'S WIFE. 
 
 going to leave liim — he asked me to stay. 
 Ah ! I know you ^dll laugh at this ; hut 
 my case is such a slight and meagre one, 
 that I cannot afford to dispense with the 
 most trifling incident." 
 
 " Well, go on, dear. I do not see that 
 it is so slight and meagre." 
 
 Theresa's eye hrightened for a moment, 
 and, in a firmer tone, she continued — 
 
 *' After Mr. Cressingham's arrival, Law- 
 rence hegan to join me in the garden, 
 when I worked there in the evening. He 
 sometimes helped me; hut oftener stood 
 still, looking on. We talked very little 
 on these occasions, and he never paid me 
 the simplest compliment, or said a word 
 that I could construe into anything heyond 
 the commonest civility." 
 
 " And have you nothing more to relate 
 helonging to this part of the question ?" 
 
 «« Very little. On one other occasion 
 he asked me to stay with him, when I 
 took a message from mamma ; and once — 
 just once — he called me ' Theresa' in a
 
 THE student's WIFE. 211 
 
 tone, and with a look that, at the time, 
 I certainly thought indicative of some 
 slight interest in me. Now, this is all, 
 Caroline; the entu^e sum of proofs on 
 which I dared to found a hope of heing 
 loved by one as far above me as the stars 
 of Heaven.'' 
 
 Caroline was silent for a few minutes, 
 and then she said — 
 
 '* AYhat, besides the consciousness of 
 your own inferiority, has recently depressed 
 this hope, Theresa?" 
 
 "Oh, a thousand things!" said the 
 other, deeply blushing. " Lawrence is 
 so variable in his moods. Often he does 
 not seem to know when I am in the 
 room; he passes me without a word or 
 look. Sometimes I fancy he guesses my 
 foolish love, and -fishes quietly to rebuke 
 it. Arthur Cressingham taunts me with 
 it, not openly, but by imputation ; and 
 when I writhe beneath his cruelty — for 
 cruelty it is — he seems positively to glory 
 in my sufferings. I am beginning to 
 tremble whenever he comes near me."
 
 212 THE student's wife. 
 
 " And can you, in any way, account for 
 this singular conduct on his part ?" 
 
 '' No, except that he has a had, malicious 
 character, and delights in occasioning mor- 
 tification to others. " 
 
 '^ Scarcely a reasonable explanation of 
 the enigma, I think ; hut let us pass him 
 by for the present. What do you intend 
 to do?" 
 
 " To do, Caroline ? What can I do, hut 
 endure in silence the misery I have brought 
 upon myself?" 
 
 *' Cannot you go from home for a time ? 
 Have you no friends at a distance who 
 would receive you ?" 
 
 " None ; besides, neither papa nor 
 mamma would consent to my leaving 
 them, imless I told them what I have 
 been telling you, and this would be a 
 moral impossibility." 
 
 " I suppose so. Then shall I give you 
 advice, Theresa?" 
 
 " I should be grateful for any that would 
 lift this load from my spirits ; but I have
 
 THE STUDENT'S WIFE. 213 
 
 no hope of regaining the peace I have 
 lost." 
 
 " Peace, no : that, of course, in its real 
 meaning, you must never expect again; 
 but you may have joy, happiness, raptm^e, 
 and all the other fine-sounding emotions 
 which are generally accorded to mutual 
 attachment. For, dear Theresa, in spite 
 of your beautiful humility, I am perfectly 
 convinced that Lawrence Singleton does 
 not regard you with indifference." 
 
 "Caroline!" 
 
 " Oh, I am quite in earnest ; but don't 
 exhibit that radiant look too often before 
 me, or I may learn to regret that nature 
 has cast me in so insensible a mould. 
 After all, Theresa, this love has its mo- 
 ments of compensation, and you would not 
 return to your former innocent slumber if 
 you could." 
 
 *' Xot if I thought he cared the tinyest 
 bit about me, or would ever do so ; but, 
 shall I confess another idea that is haunt- 
 ing me, Caroline ? I have, latterly, felt a
 
 214 THE student's wife. 
 
 conviction that you are the person to suit 
 Lawrence — that if he once saw you, his 
 heart would fix itself for ever." 
 
 " What absolute nonsense, Theresa ! 
 These geniuses always exact beauty and 
 simplicity in the object of their worship. 
 I have none of the former, and certainly 
 too little of the latter to please an ardent 
 enthusiast like your Lawrence. Pray, dis- 
 miss such an unfounded idea at once." 
 
 " But you are so clever, dear Caroline ; 
 you could enter into his studies, under- 
 stand his enthusiasm, glory in his exalted 
 intellect. Then, too, you play and sing 
 beautifully. And he worships music; it 
 is quite a passion with him; and I can 
 barely get through the simplest air. Ah no ! 
 it is too true, I can do nothing well, but 
 love him." 
 
 '' Qaite enough, dear ; but now for my 
 advice, for it is already getting late. Have 
 you sufficient resolution to shun this young 
 man as much as possible — especially to 
 avoid any tele-a-tete interviews ?"
 
 THE STUDENT'S WIFE. 215 
 
 " Certainly, I can do this, Caroline." 
 
 " Very well, but this is not all. You 
 must feign indifference, even if you cannot 
 feel it ; and, when you require one of the 
 gentlemen to perform any trifling service 
 for you, apply to Mr. Cressingham, — 
 though I would strongly advise you to 
 keep this one at a prudent distance also, 
 till you learn more of his character. 
 Above all, rally your spuits, Theresa, and 
 endeavour to disposses Mr. Singleton's 
 mind of the notion that he has the slis^htest 
 influence over yom' gaiety or sadness." 
 
 " I will try to follow yom^ advice, Caro- 
 line. But, now, I have two favours to beg 
 of you. You will not laugh at me ?" 
 
 " No ; name them freely. I would do 
 much to see you as you were." 
 
 '' Dear Caroline, you are very good. 
 One request is, that you ^yi\l give me 
 lessons in music, instead of in flower 
 painting ; the other, that you vnH consent 
 to be introduced to Lawrence Singleton, 
 and visit us at the rectory.
 
 216 THE student's wife. 
 
 Caroline had promised not to laugh; 
 but she could not forbear a smile, as she 
 replied — 
 
 '^ The first favour you have asked will 
 afford me more pleasure in granting than 
 it will, probably, do to you in receiving; 
 the second, I cannot say as much for ; but 
 to relieve your mind from a ridiculous 
 apprehension, I will abandon my resolve 
 of remaining unknown to this fascinating 
 hero, and make my curtsey to him as soon 
 as you please." 
 
 " Thank you a thousand times, Caroline." 
 said Theresa, somewhat wearily ; for ex- 
 citement such as she had this morning 
 undergone was still so new to her. *' Then 
 I may come to you two or three times a 
 week for my lesson?" 
 
 ''Whenever it suits you — the oftener 
 the better; but let us return home now, 
 or Susan will have us reported as lost or 
 strayed."
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Somewhat less thaii a week after this, 
 Mrs. Eorrest and Caroline were sitting 
 at tea together in the little parloiu' that 
 opened upon the lawn. It was a mild, 
 serene evening, and they had been pro- 
 posing to pay a visit to the rectory — 
 Caroline's first visit — the widow being 
 simply informed that Miss Ashton had 
 retracted her determination concerning 
 Mr. Singleton, to please Theresa, and that 
 they might be more together. 
 
 Mrs. Fori^st had heard the announce- 
 ment with much satisfaction, though she 
 entertained the private opinion that Caro- 
 ine contemplated this step only as a means 
 of getting more frequently out of Philip's 
 way. Nothing could persuade this timid 
 woman that her guest looked forward with 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 THE STUDENT'S WIFE. 
 
 anything else than abhorrence to her wild 
 nephew's arrival. 
 
 " I am really quite anxious for this visit 
 now/' said Caroline, continuing a conver- 
 sation they had begun. "You think we 
 shall find them all at home ?" 
 
 '' All the family, no doubt, my dear ; 
 and, I presume, you do not care particu- 
 larly for the young men.'' 
 
 '' Truly, no. I have seen one ; and, I 
 believe, I have a tolerably correct idea of 
 the other." 
 
 '' Of Lawrence ? Yet Theresa does not 
 talk much about him, does she ?" 
 
 " Not very much ; but you know, when 
 I first came, you both gave me a full- 
 length portrait of this interesting oddity, 
 and I have not forgotten it." 
 
 " We see om^ little friend so rarely now, 
 that I am seriously apprehensive the new 
 pupil may have made an impression on 
 her heart. He is, undoubtedly, very hand- 
 some, and has most polished manners." 
 
 Instead of replying to this, Caroline rose 
 from her chair, saying —
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 219 
 
 *'If YOU will excuse my leaving the 
 table before you, I will put aside my paint 
 box, and remove the vase containing that 
 delicate flower I am copying out of harm's 
 way. Susan would be exceedingly likely 
 to knock it down, in one of her quick, 
 bustling moments ; and I shall never get 
 such another beauty." 
 
 "Do, my dear," said Mrs. Forrest; and 
 she was about adding some remark on 
 Caroline's skill in painting from nature, 
 when a sudden and violent peal from the 
 garden bell caused both ladies to pause 
 and look at each other inquiringly. 
 
 " It cannot be Philip, of course," the 
 ^ddow faltered, at length, in a tone which 
 betrayed that she entertained no doubt 
 whatever on the subject. And scarcely 
 were the words uttered, when a firm step 
 was heard on the gravel path, followed by 
 the abrupt and noisy entrance of a very 
 dusty-looking individual through the open 
 glass doors of the sitting-room. 
 
 " My best of aunts, here I am at last," 
 
 L 2
 
 220 THE student's wife. 
 
 exclaimed a merry, youthful voice, in 
 animated accents, while the owner of it 
 darted towards the pale widow and lite- 
 rally enclosed her in his strong arms, 
 imprinting a multitude of kisses on her 
 lips, cheek, and brow. Then turning, 
 when this ceremony was over, to the 
 astonished Caroline, who was just medi- 
 tating an escape from the apartment, he 
 rehearsed the preceding scene with all the 
 effrontery imaginable, wholly regardless 
 of the poor girl's indignant efforts to free 
 herself from this most unexpected em- 
 brace; and exclaiming — perhaps by way 
 of apology — " My dear cousin, too, as I 
 perceive by the striking likeness ! — how 
 delighted I am to see you. Come, you 
 can't be prudish with such a near relation ; 
 besides, nobody minds me." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Porrest, who was much nearer 
 fainting than she had ever been in her life, 
 tried vainly to raise her trembling voice, 
 for the purpose of rectifying Philip's mis- 
 take. Not a word would come, and she
 
 THE student's WIFE. 221 
 
 was forced to stand a horror-stricken, 
 spell-bound Tiitness of the insult offered 
 to her quiet, dignified guest. But Caro- 
 line, herself, the instant she was released 
 from the stranger's arms, drew up her 
 slight figure, and said, in a perfectly lady- 
 like, but decided, tone — 
 
 " Mr. Maranham, if I do not demand an 
 instant apology for this extraordinary free- 
 dom to a lady you have never before seen, 
 it is because I owe a deep debt of grati- 
 tude to your estimable aunt ; and because 
 I feel persuaded, when you hear that no 
 relationship exists betw^een us, this con- 
 duct will never be repeated." 
 
 Philip looked at the speaker in mo- 
 mentary, but amusmg consternation; and 
 would, probably, have replied to her start- 
 ling address had not two enormous dogs 
 rushed, at this instant, upon the scene, 
 and commenced their installation by over- 
 turning Caroline's painting table, and 
 effecting the complete destruction of vase, 
 flower, and all.
 
 222 THE student's wife. 
 
 Miss Ashton was half out of the room 
 when this disaster occurred ; but not hav- 
 ing the heart to leave Mrs. Porrest in the 
 midst of such terrible confusion, she now 
 returned, and, mastering her natural fear 
 of the powerful animals who were career- 
 ing wildly about the apartment, she 
 stooped to pick up the broken vase which 
 had held her precious flower, leaving 
 Philip to set the table on its legs, and to 
 coax his unmannerly favourites into more 
 becoming conduct. It was quite amusing 
 to listen to him now. 
 
 " Down, down you fiends, you devils ! 
 Can't you be quiet for a moment ? Here 
 Tantalus — lie down, sir. My dearest aunt, 
 I am overwhelmed with shame — I feel 
 myself the greatest criminal on the face 
 of the earth. Come here, Charon, you 
 beast ! My kindest cousin, you must in- 
 tercede for me with your best of mothers. 
 Oh, what an unfortunate dog I am, to 
 make such an entree !'' 
 
 Mrs. Porrest now found her voice, though 
 it was still but a very faint one —
 
 THE student's WIFE. 223 
 
 "My dear nephew," she said, gently 
 ringing the hell at the same time, " I will, 
 with your permission, have tliese animals 
 removed to the kitchen for the present, and 
 then I shall he al^le to give a better wel- 
 come to my sister's child ; and also, per- 
 haps, to convmce him that the young lady, 
 who has just exhibited such admirable 
 forbearance, is neither my daughter, nor 
 his cousin; but simply a most esteemed 
 and honoured guest." 
 
 These words — the first his aunt had 
 addressed to him — appeared to make more 
 impression on Philip than anything that 
 had yet occurred. He siezed her hand 
 when she ceased speaking, and kissed it 
 warmly ; then, turning again to Caroline, 
 he said, with an irresistible smile of good 
 humour — 
 
 *' I am delighted to find that, if not a 
 relation, you are, at least, a guest of my 
 good aunt's, and that I shall, there- 
 fore, have ample opportunities of making 
 my peace with you. You look very amia-
 
 224 THE student's wife. 
 
 ble ; so let us shake hands, and be friends 
 from this moment. My name is Philip 
 Maranham, and yours is " 
 
 "Caroline Asliton ! — Miss Ashton, I 
 should say" — put in Mrs. Forrest, who was 
 growing too bewildered to be perfectly 
 conscious of what she was about. 
 
 " Oh, hang the 'Miss' and the 'Ashton,"' 
 said Philip, squeezing the hand which 
 Caroline had frankly offered him, till the 
 poor girl was nearly crying out with pain. 
 " Caroline is quite enough, isn't it ? — or 
 Carry ; that is better still. So now. Carry, 
 we understand each other ; and I am your 
 sworn knight for ever and for ever." 
 
 It was quite impossible to be angry with 
 him, though unfeigned astonishment was 
 certainly painted on the faces of both 
 ladies ; but Philip was, happily, micon- 
 scious of exciting either surprise or dis- 
 pleasure; and, when the dogs had been 
 removed, he declared liimself capable of 
 eating a roasted ox; and said he would 
 first retire and change his travel-soiled
 
 THE STX'DENT .S WIFE. 
 
 dress, and then join his dear aunt and her 
 sweet friend at the tea-table. 
 
 There was a dead silence for a few 
 minutes after he had left the room, which 
 wo -n. at len^h, bv a remark &t)m 
 
 Car jiiiiHj to the effect that she thought 
 Mr. Maranham had a most prepossessing 
 comitenauce. 
 
 " He is the image of my beloved sister," 
 said Air?. Forrest, ^ith tears shining in 
 her T • • ^ ^ j2ot been for this 
 
 re- . 1^ . >iii'iL Lti^i^erved me from the 
 
 fii'st. I ^hjiild not have suffered his con- 
 duet to you, my dear ^liss Ashton, to pass 
 unreproved. I feel, however, more grate- 
 ful than I can express for the gentleness 
 and indulgence you have shown." 
 
 '' Don't speak of it again," replied Caro- 
 line, with a deep and sudden blush. ''Your 
 nephew is very young. He seems to have 
 quite the Irish character — ^warm, impetu- 
 ous, and um-edee- "!:2 ; but, I have no fear 
 of his repeating iLi- '; zenee ; and I forgive 
 
 him fullv and ireelv." 
 
 v ■ 
 
 L 3
 
 226 THE student's wife. 
 
 " We must abandon our projected ex- 
 cursion this evening — at least I must ; 
 and I trust you will remain with us, my 
 dear/' 
 
 " I think not," said Caroline. " I am 
 really anxious to see Theresa; and you 
 must have so many family matters to dis- 
 cuss. I will make my escape before your 
 nephew returns." 
 
 *'Well, as you please, my love; but 
 it is getting' late even now. Shall I send 
 Susan to fetch you ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ; my visit will be a short one, 
 and I rather prefer a solitary walk ' in the 
 gloaming.'" 
 
 Caroline made haste to dress herself, 
 and intended to pass out by the back 
 door, as she thought, if Philip saw her 
 he might offer himself as an escort, or, 
 at least, give her poor hand such another 
 gripe as that from which it was still 
 smarting. But her plan proved singularly 
 unsuccessful ; for the individual she wished 
 to avoid was feeding his dogs by the
 
 227 
 
 kitchen fire as she passed thi-ough, and 
 he demanded instantly where she was 
 going. 
 
 *'To pay a visit, Mr. Maranham." 
 
 " Say Philip next time. But how far 
 have you to go ?" 
 
 *' Less than a quarter of a mile. To 
 the rectory." 
 
 "AYhoHves there?" 
 
 " Several persons ; but I cannot stay to 
 talk now, or I shall be benighted." 
 
 *^ Can't I go with you?" 
 
 " No ; by the time your ox is consumed, 
 it would be too late." 
 
 "But I will give u}^ the ox. Do let 
 me go." 
 
 "Thank you; but I must still decline. 
 Yoiu^ aunt anticipates spending the even- 
 ing with you. Good night." 
 
 " Good night, sweet Carrj^, if it must 
 be so. I am falling in love much faster 
 than I ever did in my life." 
 
 Miss Ashton drew her shawl round her, 
 pulled do^TL her veil, and passed out.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 The family at the rectory were all at 
 home; and in the parlour, to which 
 Miss Ashton was conducted, she found 
 Dr. and Mrs. Berrington and Theresa, 
 apparently discussing some very im- 
 portant or interesting suhject, which her 
 sudded entrance of course interrupted. 
 
 The clergyman and his wife received 
 Caroline with marked kindness, said many 
 flattering things to her, and hoped, that 
 now the ice was hroken, she would hecome 
 a constant visitor. 
 
 Theresa, who was looking much flushed 
 and excited, kissed her friend repeatedly, 
 asked a few questions about Mrs. Porrest, 
 and listened, with as much attention as 
 she could, to the account of Philip's arrival,
 
 THE student's WIFE. 229 
 
 in which, however, it is but fair to say, 
 the most piquant incidents were omitted. 
 
 *' I must show you the garden before 
 it gets later," Miss Berrington said, sud- 
 denly, on the first pause in the conyersa- 
 tion. And Caroline, whose ciuisoity was 
 faMy awakened, got up instantly, and 
 followed her conductor. 
 
 They reached one of the shadiest of 
 the lab^Tinthine walks, and then Theresa 
 stood still ; and after booking searchingly 
 on all sides, began eagerly — 
 
 " Caroline, I haye something to tell 
 you." 
 
 " Which has made you yery happy, dear 
 Theresa ; is it not so ?" 
 
 '' Happy ? I don't quite know. I think 
 my heart is too full for happiness. I ac- 
 tually tremble at my own feelings ; but 
 you shall hear what has occurred." 
 
 "And congratulate you, too, I hope, 
 Theresa" 
 
 "Not for what you think; but listen. 
 When last we parted, I had resolved on
 
 230 THE student's wipe. 
 
 adopting your advice; so I came home, 
 and kept out of Mr. Singleton's way all 
 that day and the next — feeling more 
 miserable and desponding than I can tell 
 you. The following morning, at breakfast 
 — you know this is the only meal we all 
 take together — papa, after looking ear- 
 nestly at me for some minutes, said, 
 abruptly, — ' Tessie, you are growing quite 
 pale and thin. You don't take sufficient 
 exercise. I shall ^-o over to Oxendean, 
 in a day or two, and see if I can't get a 
 pony for you. This has been a long 
 standing promise; but I am quite in 
 earnest now.'" 
 
 "Of course," continued Theresa, "my 
 paleness vanished the same moment that 
 it was commented upon, as I knew that 
 every eye was directed inquisitively towards 
 my poor face. I longed to know how 
 Lawrence was looking; but I had not 
 courage at first to meet the penetrating 
 glance which I seemed to feel was upon 
 me. At last, when general conversation
 
 THE STIJDEXt's WIFE. 231 
 
 was resumed, I ventured to turn my eyes 
 to the part of the tahle where he sat ; and, 
 as I suspected, he was gazing steadily, 
 inquiringly, and, I thought, sorrowfully at 
 my troubled countenance. I felt the tears 
 rush to mv eves. Oh, Caroline I am I not 
 lamentably weak ? — and immediatly after, 
 he rose quietly and left the room." 
 
 " Did you follow, Theresa ?" 
 
 " No. AYhen breakfast was over, papa 
 told me to go out for a walk, to call upon 
 Mrs. Porrest ; but, I had not the heart to 
 do it. I said nothing, but went to my 
 own room, and remained there alone the 
 whole morning. I wished earnestly to see 
 Lawrence. The idea that he attributed my 
 altered looks to himself, distressed me — 
 his strange glance haunted me ; and about 
 one o'clock, the hour when the young men 
 usually stroll in the garden, I proceeded 
 thither with a book, and, sitting under the 
 large walnut tree, waited anxiously for 
 ^Ii\ Singleton's appearance. But I waited 
 in vain ; and found, to my disgust, that I
 
 \ 
 
 230 THE student's wife. 
 
 adopting your advice; so I came home, 
 and kept out of Mr. Singleton's way all 
 that day and the next — feeling more 
 miserable and desponding than I can tell 
 you. The following morning, at breakfast 
 — you know this is the only meal we all 
 take together — papa, after looking ear- 
 nestly at me for some minutes, said, 
 abruptly, — * Tessie, you are growing quite 
 pale and thin. You don't take sufficient 
 exercise. I shall ^'O over to Oxendean, 
 in a day or two, and see if I can't get a 
 pony for you. This has been a long 
 standing promise; but I am quite in 
 earnest now.'" 
 
 "Of course," continued Theresa, "my 
 paleness vanished the same moment that 
 it was commented upon, as I knew that 
 every eye was directed inquisitively towards 
 my poor face. I longed to know how 
 Lawrence was looking; but I had not 
 courage at first to meet the penetrating 
 glance which I seemed to feel was upon 
 me. At last, when general conversation
 
 THE student's WIFE. 231 
 
 was resumed, I ventured to turn my eyes 
 to the part of the table where he sat ; and, 
 as I suspected, he was gazing steadily, 
 inquiringly, and, I thought, sorrowfully at 
 my troubled countenance. I felt the tears 
 rush to my eyes. Oh, Caroline ! am I not 
 lamentably weak ? — and immediatly after, 
 he rose quietly and left the room." 
 
 " Did you foUow, Theresa ?" 
 
 " No. AYhen breakfast was over, papa 
 told me to go out for a walk, to call upon 
 Mrs. Eorrest ; but, I had not the heart to 
 do it. I said notliing, but went to my 
 own room, and remained there alone the 
 whole morning. I wdshed earnestly to see 
 Lawrence. The idea that he attributed my 
 altered looks to himself, distressed me — 
 his strange glance haunted me ; and about 
 one o'clock, the hour when the young men 
 usually stroll in the garden, I proceeded 
 thither with a book, and, sitting under the 
 large walnut tree, waited anxiously for 
 ]\Ir. Singleton's appearance. But I waited 
 in vain ; and found, to my disgust, that I
 
 234 THE student's wife. 
 
 to my very soul. But I was spared the 
 necessity of replying to this home ques- 
 tion by the entrance of mamma and the 
 breakfast. I could not eat much, as you 
 may suppose ; and when everybody had 
 finished, Lawrence asked me to walk 
 round the garden with him — a request I 
 was too weak to refuse. ' You have eaten 
 no breakfast,' he said, when we had 
 got out of hearing ; ' why didn't you ? ' 
 ' Because I was not hungry,' was my 
 natural reply. ' Then you must be ill,' he 
 retorted, ' and you ought to have a physi- 
 cian. Is there a good one here ?' 'I don't 
 know,' I answered ; ' but I do know that 
 I am very well, and that I wish nobody 
 would notice me.' Presently he asked 
 whether I would take a ride with him in 
 the afternoon, if he could find a pretty, 
 quiet pony for me. I said it must depend 
 on mamma, and we went in together to 
 prefer the petition. Now, if it had been 
 Arthur Cressingham, I am sure the answer 
 would have been a decided ' No;' but Law-
 
 THE student's wiee. 235 
 
 rence is difPerent : not a living soul could 
 suspect him of a desire to flirt, or of 
 ha\ing any other object in what he does 
 than a simple and straightforward one. 
 So mamma declared he was excessively 
 kind, and readily gave her consent to my 
 going. "Well, about four o'clock, Mr. 
 Singleton came into the parlour and 
 announced that the horses were at the 
 door. I hastened to equip myself in a 
 riding skii't that used to serve for my 
 donkey expeditions at the seaside, and 
 then, accompanied by mamma, I proceeded 
 to the front door, where, beside Lawrence's 
 OAvn horse, stood the most beautiful black 
 pony I ever saw, with new saddle and 
 bridle and everytliing complete. Mamma 
 immediately began a string of questions, 
 as to where he had procm-ed it, &c., &c.; 
 but Lawrence told me to mount, and 
 assured us both he would answer all in- 
 quiries when the ride was over. ' Caroline, 
 if you are not a rider yoiu^self, you can 
 have no idea of the really exquisite enjoy-
 
 236 THE student's wife. 
 
 ment this exercise is capable of producing.' 
 To me it is almost bewildering at any time, 
 and now, with him beside me, with his 
 voice continually sounding in my ear, with 
 all the wild hopes (which this day's inci- 
 dents had renewed) whispering their sweet 
 music in my heart, I felt — ah ! I could 
 never tell you what my feelings were ; I 
 think I am mad still to talk about them, 
 as I am doing." 
 
 " I like to hear you, Theresa ; but what 
 did Lawrence say to you during this en- 
 chanting ride ?" 
 
 '' Oh ! he was all kindness and attention, 
 though, certainly, in a very composed and 
 quiet way ; but then, you see, this is his 
 nature — there is no lightness or frivolity 
 about him. He talked about books, asked 
 me what style of reading I preferred ; then 
 we spoke of music, and I told him you 
 were going to give me lessons in singing." 
 
 " And what reply did he make to this ?" 
 
 "None at all. He smiled to himself, 
 and remained silent for some minutes."
 
 THE student's WIFE. 237 
 
 "But do you mean, Theresa, that, 
 durinor all the time vou were alone to- 
 gether, Mr. Smgleton said nothing that 
 you could construe into an acknowledg- 
 ment of attachment, on his part, towards 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh ! he said nothing," replied Theresa, 
 eagerly ; " but, surely, actions are more 
 eloquent than words, and you shall hear 
 now what he did. After being out at 
 least two hours — although it seemed far 
 less to me — I proposed returning home, 
 and Lawrence offered no objection. Papa, 
 who had been absent all the morning, was 
 standing, with mamma and Arthur Cres- 
 singham, in front of the house when we 
 arrived. The latter came forward to assist 
 me in dismounting, but I was determined 
 not to give him my hand, because he had 
 such a mocking, disagreeable smile on his 
 face ; so I called to papa — who was looking 
 rather graver than I liked — and I told him 
 I had enjoyed my ride excessively, and 
 that if he really meant to give me a pony,
 
 238 THE student's wife. 
 
 I hoped it would be just such a quiet 
 darling as this one. 'To whom does this 
 belong, Singleton?' said papa, as Law- 
 rence got off his horse and came up to me* 
 'To your daughter,' was the quiet reply; 
 and, Avithout another word, he led his own 
 horse to the stable and then went, through 
 a different entrance, into the house." 
 
 '' Well, what followed ? This is really 
 quite an exciting story, Theresa." 
 
 " It was now their dinner time ; so papa 
 and mamma only looked at each other, and 
 then at me, in speechless amazement. 
 Arthur Cressingham accompanied us into 
 the dining-room, and then I left them to 
 take off my riding dress ; and mamma 
 soon followed me to demand an explanation 
 of what Lawrence had said. Of course I 
 could give none, being quite as much 
 astonished myself at receiving such a 
 beautiful present. So we waited patiently 
 till papa had finished dinner to hear what 
 he would say; and, when you arrived, 
 he had but just joined us, and a grave
 
 THE student's WIFE. 239 
 
 discussion was taking place as to the pro- 
 priety of alloT\'ing me to accept the pony. 
 I am sure they have, neither of them, the 
 least idea that Lawrence means an}i:hing 
 beyond simple kindness ; so, I conclude 
 the argument will end in my favour. But 
 Oh, Caroline ! how can I thank Mr. Single- 
 ton ? — what can I say ? I feel like a person 
 in a confused though happy dream." 
 
 Caroline Ashton remained in thoughtful 
 silence for a few minutes, then she said, 
 *' I am afraid, Theresa, now your affairs 
 have reached this point, I shall prove but 
 an indifferent ad\dser. It certainly appears 
 strange to me that Mr. Singleton should 
 give you a handsome present, and yet 
 neglect the very favourable opportunity 
 he had, during your ride, to express the 
 feelings which you think, and / think, his 
 conduct plainly indicates. A\^iere is he 
 to-night ? I am quite curious to become 
 acquainted with him now.'' 
 
 " I believe he has gone out again with 
 Mr. Cressingham. But let us return to
 
 240 THE student's wife. 
 
 the house, or mamma will say I have 
 monopolized you altogether." 
 
 Caroline declared she should only have 
 time to make her adieus to Dr. and Mrs. 
 Berrington, as she was not in the hahit of 
 being out alone at so late an hour. Theresa 
 regretted that Mr. Cressingham was not at 
 home, as he would have been delighted, 
 she said, to oflPer his services to Miss 
 Ashton." 
 
 "But," replied the latter, "I should 
 rather have accepted Mr. Singleton's arm, 
 if you had raised no objection." 
 
 Theresa opened wide her eyes, and fixed 
 them on the speaker's face. "Oh," she 
 said, with a sudden coldness of manner, 
 " I have no doubt he would feel infinitely 
 flattered by your preference, and be most 
 happy to accompany you home. It is, 
 indeed, a pity that he is not here." 
 
 " So it is," replied Caroline, dryly ; " for, 
 as he is fond of music, I might have played 
 and sung to him." 
 
 "You will not long be without an
 
 THE student's WIFE. 241 
 
 opportunity of doing so. I will suggest to 
 him the propriety of calling on Mrs. Por- 
 rest.'' 
 
 "Thank you, dear — that is just what I 
 should like." 
 
 Theresa burst into tears. 
 
 "There, that ^\'ill do you good, you 
 jealous little thing," said Caroline, putting 
 her arm round her companion's waist, and 
 gazing at her ^dtli the protecting tender- 
 ness of an elder sister. Your nerves have 
 been over-excited, and crying vrill prove an 
 excellent tonic for them; but do not let 
 them flow longer on my account. I only 
 wanted to see whether your natm^e was 
 prone to jealousy ; and now understand — 
 once and for ever — that I would not 
 stand in the way of your happiness for all 
 the LaT\'rence Singletons in the world; 
 and, moreover, — believing as I do that 
 every throb of your little losing heart is 
 influenced by this incomprehensible indi- 
 vidual, — I will use my utmost efforts to 
 bring about a definite understanding be- 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE student's wife. 
 
 tween you. Now, should you object to 
 trust him with me, Theresa ?" 
 
 A sobbing ' No' and a fervent pressure 
 of Caroline's hand were the only answers 
 to this; and then the latter, after taking 
 a hasty leave of her friend's parents, and 
 bidding Theresa be of good cheer, set out 
 upon her solitary Avalk to the cottage.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 Caroline did not see Mrs. Forrest or her 
 nephew again that night, as on her arrival 
 she retired to her own room, and sent word 
 that she was going to bed. But on de- 
 scending in the morning to the breakfast 
 parlour, she found Philip presiding at the 
 j^reliminary meal of Tantalus and Charon, 
 who both growled sulkily on Caroline's 
 entrance, and looked very much disposed, 
 she fancied, to exercise their teeth ane^^ 
 upon her. 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad you are come at last," 
 said Philip, making two strides across the 
 room to seize Miss Ashton's hand. *' Do 
 you know I have been dreaming about you 
 all night, though I never got a wink of 
 sleep. Come, say something pretty and 
 kind to me — won't you ? It's no joke to 
 
 M 2
 
 244 THE student's wipe. 
 
 lose an entire night's rest, after such a 
 journey as mine." 
 
 ''What am I to say, Mr. Maranham ?" 
 asked Caroline, sitting down as far as she 
 could from Tantalus and Charon. 
 
 " Surely your own heart might suggest 
 something — such as, ' I am truly grieved, 
 dear Philip, that you should have failed to 
 repose mth that serenity which your spot- 
 less conscience ought to insure ; but if I 
 can atone for this disappointment by any 
 little extra favour or indulgence, believe 
 me, I shall only be too happy to do so.' 
 Have I interpreted your sentiment, fair 
 Carry?" 
 
 " Most skilfully, of course.' Now, what 
 favour, or indulgence do you require ?" 
 
 '' Ah, let me see. I should not mind a 
 friendly kiss to begin with." 
 
 " Really, you are very moderate in your 
 demands ! And, supposing this granted, 
 what would be your next request ?" 
 
 " Oh, we won't play at ' supposings,' if 
 you please. Give me the kiss, and then 
 I'll think of something else."
 
 THE STUDENT S WIFE. 245 
 
 " No ; I must exact the whole catalogue 
 of your requirements first. I cannot grant 
 favours in the dark." 
 
 '' You are not such a good-natured gui 
 as I took you for, after all ; but, let me 
 reflect. Well now, when you have kissed 
 me, I shall probably ask you to go for a 
 walk with me. You go — we're only sup- 
 posing, of course — and then, as a natural 
 sequence to this, I shall require you to 
 spend the evening with me — to play, sing, 
 read, and talk, till all my heart is won ; 
 upon which I shall entreat of you to give 
 me yours in return, and we shall have a 
 wedding and a bridal tour, and end, like a 
 fairy tale, by li\ing very happy ever after- 
 wards. Xow, please to kiss me, mia bella 
 sposa'' 
 
 "Thank you," said Caroline, mth admi- 
 rably preserved gravity ; " but, since you 
 have opened to my view the consequences, 
 I must decline taking this first step. Im- 
 possible, I should imagine, for two natures 
 to be more antagonistic than yom^s and
 
 246 THE student's wife. 
 
 mine ; but we may be firm friends, not- 
 withstanding ; we may even be Caroline 
 and Philip to each other with perfect 
 safety; for, between us, there will ever 
 exist a moral wall of separation, which 
 would be as difficult for me to step over as 
 that physical one, in the person of your 
 dog' Charon, who now forbids my approach- 
 ing you to offer my hand on this compact, 
 by stretching his formidable body across 
 that part of the room I should be obliged 
 to traverse." 
 
 " Ah, you are cold, icy cold," said Philip, 
 with a look of real disappointment. '' I 
 might have known that England could 
 produce nothing warm, or fresh, or genial. 
 Here, come to me, old friends" — turning 
 to the sleepy dogs — " you, at least, have 
 Irish hearts, and Ave must console each 
 other." ^ 
 
 There was a striking plaintiveness in 
 Philip's voice as he spoke these words, 
 something so entirely at variance with his 
 former wild, dare-devil manner, that Caro-
 
 THE student's WIFE. 247 
 
 line looked up at him in pure astonish- 
 ment, and she was on the point of 
 giving expression to some gentle, soothing 
 thought which her kind heart had sug- 
 gested, and which, if spoken at that par- 
 ticular moment, might have entered into 
 Pliilip's soul, and changed materially both 
 their destinies, when Mrs. Forrest came 
 suddenly into the room ; and they all sat 
 down to breakfast. 
 
 '' I fear," said the widow, when the 
 first pause in her nephew's rattling, but 
 certainlv amusinfir, nonsense allowed her 
 an opportunity of speaking, — "I fear, 
 Philip, that you will soon be disgusted 
 with Elderton. There is no society be- 
 yond the rectory, and Miss Ashton and 
 myself are such very quiet people." 
 
 Philip made an expressive grimace as he 
 replied — " Then I am afraid I shall become 
 mischievous — pour 2)asser le temps. But 
 I suppose this delectable neighbom^hood 
 abounds in the pictm-esque. Cannot the 
 amiable Caroline introduce me to some
 
 248 THE student's wipe. 
 
 woodland glade or wild hill side, where I 
 may dream of elves and fairies, and bewail 
 my lonely lot ?" 
 
 " I shall he happy to take a walk with 
 you hy and bye," said Caroline, quietly, 
 "if, at least, you can insure me from 
 heing eaten up hy your hungry dogs. 
 Mrs. Eorrest knows what a coward I am." 
 
 " Oh ! they won't hurt you," replied 
 Philip, a little disdainfully. '* But when 
 shall you he ready to start ?" 
 
 '' In about an hour. I have employ- 
 ments that will detain me till then." 
 
 '' But you are not going to leave this 
 room ?" 
 
 " Indeed I am. Your aunt is good 
 enough to allow me apartments of my own, 
 where I generally spend the morning." 
 
 " And can't I spend it with you ? I am 
 very harmless, upon my honour." 
 
 '^ I have no doubt you are ; but I must, 
 nevertheless, decline receiving you to-day. 
 If you are fond of reading, I can lend you 
 plenty of books."
 
 THE student's WIFE. 249 
 
 '* Have you smythmg more interesting 
 than a Preneh Gramnier or a ' Pinnock's 
 History of England ?' " 
 
 "That depends upon your taste," said 
 Caroline, gravely. '' I have * Mason on 
 Self-knowledge' and ' Harvey's Medita- 
 tions among the Tombs.' " 
 
 ''Thank you. You don't happen, also, 
 to possess ' The Whole Duty of Man,' do 
 you? — because, if so, I'll take the three, 
 and go and bury myself, Avith them, under 
 one of the yew trees in Elderton church- 
 yard!" 
 
 " I will see what I can find," answered 
 Caroline, as, ha\ing finished breakfast, she 
 rose and went out of the room. 
 
 Mrs. Forrest, who had been an attentive 
 listener to the foregoing dialogue, looked 
 earnestly at her nepliew when they were 
 alone, as if she would fain read liis opinion 
 of their recent companion. Eut Philip 
 was the first to speak. 
 
 ''That is evidently a clever girl," he 
 said, abruptly, "and she has a fair and 
 
 M 3
 
 250 THE student's wife. 
 
 pleasant face. What a pity she should not 
 have a warm, Irish heart !" 
 
 '* But you must not suppose, Philip," 
 replied his aunt, " that it is only in Ire- 
 land that warm hearts are to be found. 
 Many among the English may rival even 
 your country people in this respect. Caro- 
 line Ashton is a most amiable young lady ; 
 but she is not even the type of a class — at 
 least, I have never met with another at all 
 resembling her." 
 
 " Then, you, too, think she is cold ?" 
 
 ''Yes. This certainly appears to me 
 the great defect in her character ; and yet 
 she is one of the least selfish persons I ever 
 knew." 
 
 "If she hadn't been so confoundedly 
 cold," began Philip, half to himself; but 
 passing out into the garden, where his 
 dogs were basking in the sun, the rest of 
 the sentence was lost to Mrs. Porrest for 
 ever. 
 
 A few minutes after the expiration of 
 the stipulated hour, Caroline, very neatly
 
 THE student's WIFE. 251 
 
 and becomingly dressed, joined Philip on 
 the lawn, and announced that she was 
 ready to walk with him. He started up 
 immediately from his recumbent posture, 
 looked at her steadily for a few seconds, 
 then whistled to his dogs, and offered his 
 arm to the younsr ladv. 
 
 '^ Where are we going?" were his first 
 words when the garden gate had closed 
 upon them. *' Have you any woods about 
 Elderton?" 
 
 " Yes ; but they are too far to reach 
 to-day. We must keep to the lanes and 
 fields." 
 
 " I hate pastoral scenery ; but every- 
 thing, I suspect, will prove tame and flat 
 in England." 
 
 "It is a pity you came." 
 
 " I begin to think so too. Why don't 
 vou call me a savas^e. Miss Ashton?" 
 
 " Because you are not one." 
 
 " What am I then ?" 
 
 " A young man who has been very much 
 spoiled, and who is now in a bad temper."
 
 252 THE student's wipe. 
 
 "You are extremely polite. Perhaps 
 you will, also, be good enough to inform 
 me what has occasioned this bad temper ?" 
 
 " No ! we can none of us look into each 
 others' hearts ; and those who presume to 
 judge of inward feelings by the outward 
 manner, are likely to fall into very fatal 
 errors." 
 
 " Then, pray, how are we to judge ?" 
 
 " I think we are told that it is well to 
 avoid all judgment of our neighbours. In 
 the present case, I am quite disposed to 
 obey this precept, and thus save myself 
 from the possibility of any uncharitable 
 conclusions." 
 
 " How do you mean ?" 
 
 " That, by forbearing to search into the 
 cause of your ill humour, I cannot attri- 
 bute to you more unworthy feelings or 
 fancies than you actually possess; which 
 I might do, if I ventured upon a pre- 
 mature judgment of one who is almost a 
 stranger to me." 
 
 " What, if I told you that my ill humour.
 
 THE STrDEXT S WIPE. 253 
 
 as you call it, arises from the judgment my 
 reason has passed upon your inward feel- 
 ings — exhibited, of coiu'se, through your 
 outward manner." 
 
 " I shall say that my outward manner 
 was unfortmiate in having given offence to 
 Mr. Philip ]\Iaranham ; but that it is now 
 too old to change its garb or amend its 
 ways." 
 
 After a pretty long interregnum, during 
 which Pliilip was rude enough to vrhistle 
 an Irish ah, he said, suddenly — 
 
 '' Pray, Miss Caroline Ashton, where 
 were you educated ?" 
 
 "At Eairfield House, Kensington, near 
 London," was her prompt reply; "but I 
 fear thev would not receire vou as a 
 boarder." 
 
 " I am not going to ask them,'" he said, 
 rather an^rilv. "I was onlv thinkinsr 
 that the head of the establishment ouorht 
 to have a gold medal for tm-ning out 
 such a finished pattern of propriety as 
 yom^self."
 
 254 THE student's wife. 
 
 " I am glad you approve of me. Shall 
 we rest a few minutes under this venerable 
 oak ?" 
 
 "Philip threw himself on the ground, 
 and summoned Tantalus and Charon, who 
 still appeared to view Caroline with any- 
 thing but a friendly eye. 
 
 "Won't you stroke the dogs ?" said the 
 former, observing that his companion kept 
 somewhat aloof from himself and his 
 favourites. " There can be nothing against 
 the rules of Eairfield House in that, I 
 should think.'' 
 
 " Perhaps, when I know them better, I 
 may approach and even touch them with- 
 out fear," replied Caroline, taking no 
 notice of his pettishness ; " but, at present, 
 I must decline any familiarities with those 
 fierce looking satellites of yours, whose 
 beauty I have, nevertheless, sufiicient 
 taste to admire." 
 
 " Philip curled his lip, and said, pre- 
 sently, " It is well that you are as cautious 
 with the dogs as you are with their
 
 THE student's aviee. 255 
 
 master, or I might strangle them in a fit 
 of spite. I suppose the real fact is, that 
 you have o>ot a lover somewhere in the 
 vicinity of Eairfield House, who has for- 
 bid your being the least friendly to other 
 men/' 
 
 ''I have no loA'er," replied Caroline, 
 '' and never had. Mv nature is uncon- 
 scious of any yearnings for that sort of 
 affection." 
 
 "Hang me, if I didn't think so!" 
 exclaimed Philip, with startling energy. 
 " One might as well try to melt Snowdon 
 with a bit of hot peat, as to make an im- 
 pression on such a heart as yours." 
 
 Caroline smiled, and the least possible 
 tinge of colour passed like a shadow over 
 lier face, and escaped Philip's observation, 
 who soon continued — 
 
 " Unfortunately for me, I cannot boast 
 of an equal degree of insensibility. I have 
 a vrWd, constant, and torturing craving for 
 this very affection which you despise. My 
 firm comdction is, that I am doomed never
 
 256 THE student's wife. 
 
 to inspire it — that I sliall pass through 
 life tolerated by many of my fellow beings 
 — ^liked by a few, and loved, really, truly, 
 devotedly loved, by none. Prom a child 
 I have been possessed by this fierce thirst 
 for human love. I say possessed, for it 
 holds me as firmly as the demoniacs held 
 their miserable victims in ancient days. 
 I cannot get away from it, and already it 
 has led me into dangers innumerable — into 
 the water and into the fire. I have never 
 been seriously in love myself, not because 
 my nature is incapable of the passion — 
 every bounding pulse will tell a different 
 tale — ^but because I have never happened 
 to meet the individual whom fate has 
 reserved to make my torment or my joy — 
 joy, did I say ? No, I feel it will be only 
 bitterness and despair. Caroline Ashton, 
 you are in for it now. Don't open those 
 soft eyes, whose expression at times con- 
 tradicts the cold words that fall from your 
 icy lips ; don't look as if you suspected a 
 madman beside you. I am not this. I
 
 THE student's "WIFE. 257 
 
 only mean, that since you have yourself 
 pronounced the inipossihility of ever be- 
 coming nearer or dearer to me, I have 
 elected you to the dignity of my confidante. 
 You have a kind heart, though not a warm 
 one, and you are imselfish — so the office 
 will suit you well. What do you say ? Is 
 it a mutual agreement ?" 
 
 '' If I am to have a choice in the matter," 
 replied Caroline, '* I shall Leg to dechne 
 the honour vou wish to confer on me, 
 unless" — she paused for a moment — "un- 
 less I could really do you any good by 
 listening to your revelations." 
 
 " Upon my soul, you are a strange girl," 
 said Philip, trying to look into the face 
 which his companion, with apparent in- 
 tention, kept averted from him. " You 
 begin your speech in a tone sufficiently 
 freezing to convert everything around you 
 into a mass of petrifactions, and you finish 
 it in a voice as soft and plaintive as the 
 notes of an iEolian harp. Caroline, do 
 let me see your face, if you please."
 
 258 THE student's wiee. 
 
 Caroline turned and smiled. 
 " Thank you. There is something 
 serene and yet cheering in the expression 
 of your eyes : they are beautiful eyes, 
 Caroline, and I read in them now that you 
 will be my friend and counsellor, that I 
 may regard you as a faithful sister, and 
 look to you at all times for indulgence, 
 sympathy, and — platonic affection. TeU 
 me if I have read correctly." 
 
 " If you are satisfied with this reading, 
 let it be so ; only do not reckon too much 
 on my indulgence. To be really faithful, 
 I must be sincere and just." 
 
 a There, now you have adopted the 
 freezing tone again, and the very air has 
 become chilly and ungenial. Let us go 
 home."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 "Theresa, my dear," said Mrs. Berring- 
 ton, as she came into the breakfast -room, 
 key-basket in hand, the morning after 
 Caroline's visit, " had you not better go 
 now and thank Mr. Singleton for his 
 handsome present. He is quite alone in 
 the studA^ and the others will not be 
 down just yet." 
 
 *' Yes, mamma, I will go immediately," 
 replied Theresa, di'opjoing all her working 
 implements in succession, and becoming 
 red and pale alternately in the exertion of 
 picking them up. 
 
 '* But do not stay to chatter, my love,'* 
 continued the prudent mamma, " as I have 
 a little atfau' to consult you about before 
 papa comes down. Why, Tessie, how
 
 260 THE student's wife. 
 
 clumsy you are this morning; you have 
 dropped those scissors at least four times." 
 
 Theresa huddled all the things together, 
 and hastened to leave the room. 
 
 There was only a short passage between 
 the breakfast-room and the study, and one 
 that generally occupied about a minute in 
 traversing ; but, on the present occasion, 
 Theresa contrived to make the one minute 
 nearely ten ; and, when these were expked, 
 to linger still on the outside of the study 
 door, as if the interior contained something 
 from which she naturally and instinctively 
 recoiled. 
 
 Ask her if it is so, and listen for the 
 answer, made amidst the wild throbbings 
 of that simple and truthful heart. It says, 
 " I tremble at my own happiness — I shrink 
 not from Mm, but from myself; from 
 feelings which will not be concealed when 
 that voice is ringing in my ear. I long 
 and yet dread to hear him own he loves 
 me. I could almost fancy that my senses 
 will flee away in the presence of such
 
 THE student's WIFE. 261 
 
 exceeding joy ; and vet, I know now that 
 it is — that it must be so. Lawrence — my 
 Lawrence loves me.'' 
 
 Theresa heard the clock strike : it only 
 wanted a quarter of an hour to break- 
 fast time, and there was not a minute now 
 to lose. She grasped the handle of the 
 door with nervous haste, turned it quickly, 
 and stood within the room. 
 
 Lawrence was writing, near the win- 
 dow ; but he looked up on hearing some 
 one enter, and put down his pen when he 
 found it was Theresa. She was too much 
 agitated to think of the ordinary morning 
 greeting; so, without even a word of 
 apology for the intrusion, she began — 
 
 " I have come, Mr. Singleton, to do 
 what your abrupt departm'e, as well as 
 the surprise I felt, prevented me doing 
 yesterday — ^to thank you, I mean, for a 
 present which is far too handsome for me, 
 and which both papa and mamma feel 
 quite distressed at your having purchased." 
 
 If Lawrence Singleton thought, because
 
 262 THE student's wife. 
 
 of these cold, formal words, that there was 
 any deficiency of gratitude — warm, ardent 
 gratitude — in Theresa's heart, he must 
 have been something more than a matter- 
 of-fact fool; but, perhaps, he did not 
 think so, for he replied the moment the 
 first speaker paused — 
 
 " And are you distressed, also, Theresa ?" 
 
 '* How can I be ?" she said, softly ; then 
 added immediately — " I feel only that it is 
 too good for me; that I am altogether 
 unworthy of the kindness I have received 
 from you/' 
 
 Lawrence said — "Nonsense." But he 
 must have been assured that, if truth 
 ever issued pure and undefiled from human 
 lips, it did so then — when a meek and 
 loving girl expressed a conviction of her 
 own unworthiness, compared with the 
 object of her affection. 
 
 " Nonsense," he said, rather brusquely. 
 " What kindness have I shown you ? I 
 heard you wanted a pony, and I had the 
 means of procmdng one. I shall be very
 
 THE student's ayife. 263 
 
 glad to know that you enjoy it. And now 
 leave me, there's a good girl, because I 
 have a translation here that I want to 
 finish before breakfast." 
 
 If anybody guesses that Theresa lingered 
 after this, they will be doing her a grievous 
 wrong. Less than a minute from the time 
 the words were spoken, Lawrence had the 
 study to liimself again, and Theresa was 
 flying towards her own room, that she 
 might have a few seconds to school her 
 surprised and wounded heart, and compose 
 her agitated features ere she presented 
 herself before Mrs. Berrington. 
 
 Nine o'clock ! They will all be assem- 
 bling now ; and, if she lingers longer, she 
 will be obliged to face the Avhole party at 
 once, and probably receive a public lecture 
 from her mother for having stayed to 
 gossip with Mr. Singleton. 
 
 Theresa felt that anything would be 
 preferable to this ; so, putting on a mask 
 of smiles — that mask which the world's 
 hollow conventionalities too often oblige
 
 264i 
 
 its children to assume — she went slowly 
 down stairs to the breakfast-room, and crept 
 quietly, hoping to escape observation, to her 
 mother's side. Eut Mrs. Berrington neither 
 slept nor dreamt in the daytime, so, look- 
 ing up from the tea-pot, which she had just 
 been filling, she said, reprovingly — 
 
 " Theresa, you should not have remained 
 with Mr. Singleton so long. It does not 
 look well ; it is not right in any way." 
 
 ''Mamma," was the patient answer; I 
 was a very short time in the study; I 
 have been to my o^Yll room since." 
 
 Mrs. Eerrington's countenance relaxed. 
 " Oh, in that case, my dear, it is all very 
 well. You thanked Mr. Singleton, of 
 course?" 
 
 " Yes, mamma.'' 
 
 '' Did he say anything about his motives, 
 or allude to — in short, did he give you 
 no explanation concerning this splendid 
 
 gift?" 
 
 " None whatever, mamma. He only said 
 it would afford him pleasure to see me
 
 THE student's wiee. 265 
 
 enjoy it ; and then he returned to the 
 occupation which I had interrupted."* 
 
 ** A most unaccountable person, cer- 
 tainly '/' said Mrs. Berrington, in a musing 
 tone : then, turning to her daughter (who 
 had seated herself in the darkest part of 
 the room), she continued, cheerfully — 
 
 '' But now, Tessie dear, we must talk 
 about this little plan of mine. I want to 
 give a party.'' 
 
 " A party, mamma ?*' 
 
 " Yes love, a regular old-fashioned one, 
 such as I remember my own father and 
 mother used to give when I was a girl, 
 and which I always enjoyed far more 
 than any of the finer ones of later days. 
 We lived quite in the country, you know, 
 and had a small farm and a magnificent 
 orchard, which yielded fruit enough to 
 supply half the county. Well, when the 
 time for gathering in the last apples, and 
 pears, and walnuts arrived, my dear mother 
 always invited the whole of our friends and 
 neighbours to a dinner, which generally 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 THE student's wife. 
 
 took place in the open air; and, when 
 this was over, set them all to work at the 
 gathering — ^the gentlemen climbing the 
 ladders and plucking the fruit, and the 
 ladies and children receiving it in their 
 aprons and pinafores. You can form no 
 idea of the merriment excited by the 
 occupation. The old orchard used to ring 
 again with shouts of laughter and screams 
 of delight. The day always concluded 
 with a dance under the dismantled trees, 
 to the music of the village piper, which 
 was then considered all-sufficient for any 
 country assembly. Ah! those were, indeed, 
 merry times, and merry hearts; but the 
 world has changed since then." 
 
 " It must have been very nice, mamma,'' 
 said Theresa, from her quiet corner : " but, 
 as you observe, the world has changed 
 since then; and I really do not believe 
 you would succeed in persuading any of 
 the young men of our generation to 
 attempt the occupation, much less make 
 them enjoy it. Pancy Arthur Cressingham, 
 for instance, in his tight, Parisian boots
 
 THE student's wiee. 267 
 
 and lemon- coloured gloves, deliberately 
 mounting a ladder to gather apples and 
 walnuts ! I believe he would have a 
 fainting fit at the bare idea/' 
 
 Mrs. Berrington laughed at the picture. 
 "Yet/' she said, "I could more easily 
 imagine Mr. Cressingham making himself 
 a child, for once in a way, than Lawrence 
 Singleton. Tessie, shut your eyes for one 
 moment, and try to realize the pictiu^e of 
 our solemn, studious friend, standing on 
 the ladder top and pelting walnuts at the 
 admiring crowd beneath him !" 
 
 *'I am sure I should be verv sorrv," 
 began Theresa, indignantly; then, re- 
 membering whom she was addressing, she 
 added—" I mean, mamma, that you must 
 see yourself that your old-fashioned party 
 would be a complete failure." 
 
 " Granted, if I attempted an exact copy 
 of the original I have been describing," 
 said ]Mrs. Berrington, svith a smile ; " but 
 such was never my intention. We must 
 have proper people to gather the fi:uit ; 
 
 N 2
 
 268 THE student's wife. 
 
 but it is always a pretty sight, and my 
 idea was, to give a little quiet dinner first 
 to our friends at the cottage — from whom 
 you have received so much kindness — and 
 then to let you all disperse about the 
 orchard and garden till tea time; after 
 which, Miss Ashton can give us some 
 music, or you can get up a dance, or 
 amuse yourselves in any way you please. 
 Now, what fault has your little modern 
 ladyship to find with this plan ?'* 
 
 " None, mamma. When is it to take 
 place?" 
 
 "Well, the fruit is quite ready to be 
 gathered now; so I was thinking about 
 next Monday. And you might go down 
 to the cottage to-morrow, and deliver the 
 invitations ; of course, Mrs. Porrest's 
 nephew must be included." 
 
 "Yes, mamma." 
 
 "Tessie, my dear,* there is certainly 
 something the matter with you, or you 
 would not be so indifferent about receiving 
 your friends. But here comes 'papa;' so 
 I shall catechize you another time."
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 Caroline had just persuaded Philip to go 
 out for an hour with his dogs on the follow- 
 ing morning, when Miss Eerrington was 
 announced. 
 
 " T^^e never see you here now," said 
 Mrs. Porrest, imprinting a kiss on the pale 
 cheek of her visitor. '' But, I perceive you 
 are not well, so I must keep my reproaches 
 for another time. And, by the bye, my 
 love, I ought to have begun with congratu- 
 lating you on your recent acquisition. We 
 are quite curious to have a sight of this 
 beautiful pony." 
 
 "I have come," replied Theresa, "with 
 an invitation from mamma, which, if you 
 both accept it, will give you an opportunity 
 of gratif)dng your cm^iosity. Papa and 
 mamma wish you, my dear Mrs. Porrest,
 
 270 THE student's WIFE. 
 
 and Miss Asliton, and Mr. Maranliam, to 
 dine at the rectory next Monday. There 
 will be a fruit gathering in the afternoon ; 
 for the dinner is to be at the unfashionable 
 hour of three o'clock, and we must amuse 
 ourselves out of doors as well as we can 
 till the evening. Do come, all of you, or 
 mamma will be so disappointed.'* 
 
 Mrs. Forrest entreated to be excused, 
 but accepted readily for Philip, and left 
 Caroline to answer for herself. 
 
 " Oh, you must come," said Theresa, in a 
 tone that left her own wishes on the sub- 
 ject somewhat doubtful — '' for nobody else 
 can play or sing ; and I am sure I don't 
 know what we could do all the evening 
 without music ; besides, both Mr. Cressing- 
 ham and Mr. Singleton are anxiously an- 
 ticipating the pleasure of seeing and hear- 
 ing you ' ' 
 
 Poor Theresa could get no farther, on 
 account of a tiresome choking that would 
 rise in her throat ; and Caroline answered 
 quickly —
 
 THE student's WIFE. 271 
 
 "Of course, I shall feel the greatest 
 pleasure in accepting your mamma's in- 
 vitation. And now, come up stairs with 
 me, and take a singing lesson/' 
 
 They hoth left the room together ; but, 
 on arriving at Caroline's little sanctum, 
 Theresa refused to lay aside her walking 
 dress, declaring she was not in a singing 
 humom', and had no time to stay. 
 
 *' You have not a spark of curiosity, 
 then, to see Philip Maranham?" said 
 Miss Ashton, trying to make her grave 
 companion smile. 
 
 "Oh, I had forgotten all about him," 
 replied Theresa, taking up a book. " How 
 do you like him now ?" 
 
 '* I think him amusing and original." 
 
 " Always laughing and talking nonsense, 
 I suppose? How detestable." 
 
 " No. Occasionally he talks sense," 
 said Caroline drily. "And, although he 
 may not be gifted mth the exalted intellect 
 of Lawrence Singleton, or the finished 
 manners of Arthur Cressingham, I should
 
 272 THE student's wife. 
 
 say tfiat ^detestable' was rather a stronger 
 term than ought, in justice, to be applied 
 to him." 
 
 " Oh, I have no doubt he is an angel," 
 exclaimed Theresa, without looking up 
 from her book. " And, I am sure I am 
 delighted that you should be so pleased 
 with him. Is he fond of music ? ' ' 
 
 " Not immoderately, I think ; but he 
 can sing very well himself. I dare say 
 you may hear him on Monday." 
 
 '' Speaking of that," said Theresa, 
 "mamma told me to ask you whether 
 you would mind having your harp taken 
 to the rectory on Monday evening. You 
 know my piano is not a beauty, and it 
 would do no justice to your playing." 
 
 "I should not mind it at all," replied 
 Caroline. " But, Theresa, I will have you 
 learn a little duet, to sing with me for this 
 occasion. If you really cannot stay to-day, 
 will you come to-morrow morning and 
 practise one?" 
 
 Tor a moment Theresa's face brightened
 
 THE student's WIFE. 273 
 
 all over ; but the gloom quickly shaded it 
 again as she said — 
 
 '' You know I have scarcely any voice. 
 I should only make myseK ridiculous." 
 
 '* Not at all. I have two or three very 
 simple, easy pieces that we could sing 
 together. Indeed, I must have my way." 
 
 Theresa smiled again very faintly, and 
 was on the point of replying, when a loud 
 noise of barking dogs was heard below^ and 
 immediately after a quick impatient step 
 ascended the stairs, and was followed by 
 the abrupt, unceremonious entrance of 
 Philip Maranham. 
 
 '' Carry," he exclaimed, on opening the 
 door, " I want you to come out with me 
 to a delicious walk I have discovered — so 
 quiet and I really beg you ten thou- 
 sand pardons — I thought you were alone." 
 
 Por once, Caroline was too confused to 
 decide immediately what she ought to do. 
 Her colour rose rapidly ; and, long before 
 she had in any degree regained her pre- 
 sence of mind, the intruder was gone ; and 
 
 N 3
 
 274i THE student's wife. 
 
 Theresa's blue eyes were expressing volumes 
 of inquiry. 
 
 " Original, indeed ! " said the latter, at 
 last, finding that Caroline was in no hurry 
 to speak ; " and friendly, too, it appears, 
 by his style of entering your private apart- 
 ments. I should have thought such free" 
 dom would have been particularly distaste- 
 ful to you — above all people." 
 
 "lam far from approving it," replied 
 Caroline, good humouredly; "but this is 
 the first offence, and I must teach Mr. 
 Philip better manners for the future. You 
 are not going already, Theresa?" 
 
 " Yes, I must. But I have one thing to 
 say to you first, Caroline. You have a 
 secret of mine — the only secret of my life. 
 I have never asked you to keep it to your 
 own breast; but I do so now. By the 
 friendship I am sure you feel for me — by 
 all the undeserved kindness you have 
 shown me — I implore you to give no hint 
 to any human being of what I confided to 
 you the day we sat together in the 'bennel.'
 
 THE student's wij*e. 275 
 
 I shall not voluntarily speak on the same 
 subject again — even to you I regret deeply 
 ever ha^dng done so ; but the past cannot 
 be recalled, and I will trust to your honour 
 to conceal faithfully all you know of my 
 folly and weakness. Do not ask me any 
 questions. I have nothing to tell — no 
 complaints to make. Assure me only that 
 my secret is safe — that no consideration of 
 any kind whatever could induce you to 
 betray me." 
 
 ''Be at rest, Theresa," said Caroline, 
 soothingly ; "for neither to yourself nor 
 to any other person will I again open my 
 lips on the subject, without a special per- 
 mission from vou." 
 
 c/ 
 
 " Thank you. I am quite satisfied. And 
 now good bye till to-morrow." 
 
 Miss Berrington had scarcely left the 
 house when Philip Maranham again pre- 
 sented himself at Caroline's door, and 
 asked if he might now come in. 
 
 " If you msh to speak to me," said 
 the young lady, passing out into the cor-
 
 276 TiTE student's wife. 
 
 ridor, "I will take a turn in tlie garden 
 with you. This apartment, I have before 
 told you, is sacred to myself and any 
 female friend I may choose to admit." 
 
 "I have, indeed, discovered that you 
 entertain angels there," replied Philip, 
 emphatically ; '' and I am, therefore, con- 
 strained to acknowledge the justice of my 
 exclusion.*' 
 
 " Well, shall we go down to the garden 
 now?" 
 
 Philip suddenly altered his manner, 
 and, laying his hand firmly on Caroline's 
 arm, said, almost savagely, — ''Not one 
 step shall you take from this spot, Caro- 
 line Ashton, until you have answered two 
 or three questions that I am about to ask 
 you." 
 
 " Mr. Maranham — you hurt my arm ! 
 Remove that iron grasp you have laid 
 upon it ; and if your questions are reason- 
 able and proper, I will answer them on 
 the spot." 
 
 " Reasonable and proper ! Hear this
 
 THE student's WIFE. 277 
 
 model of all propriety ! Pray, is it 
 against your code of reason and morality 
 to tell me the name of the young lady 
 I saw in your room about ten minutes 
 ago?" 
 
 "Not in the slightest degree," replied 
 Caroline, smiling at her companion's sar- 
 castic humour. "The young lady's name 
 is Theresa Berrington. Do you admire 
 her?'* 
 
 Admire her ! — hut, I dare say, you do 
 not. I never yet heard one woman 
 acknowledge the beauty of another. No 
 doubt that fair, shining angel you had 
 smuggled away so nicely m your blue- 
 beard chamber appears nothing more in 
 your eyes than a decent-looking country 
 girl; perhaps you consider her rather 
 plain than otherwise.'' 
 
 " I consider her one of the loveliest 
 specimens of nature's handiwork," said 
 Caroline, with a little more dignity than 
 she had yet assumed. " But you have, 
 probably, some other questions to ask me, 
 Mr. Maranham?"
 
 278 
 
 "There, now — ^you are offended!'' ex- 
 claimed Philip; ''and, I suppose, I must 
 beg pardon for having done you an 
 injustice. But, in the name of all that is 
 mysterious, why — if you acknowledge the 
 divine beauty of your exquisite friend — 
 why, 1 say, have you never mentioned her 
 name, or family, or abode, to me before 
 this?" 
 
 *' I have spoken of her family and their 
 abode several times,'' Caroline answered, 
 with admirable patience. '' Miss Berring- 
 ton's father is the rector of the parish; 
 and it was to visit them that I went out 
 the evening of your arrival. If I have not 
 alluded to Theresa individually, it was 
 because I could not possibly conceive your 
 feeling any interest in a person you had 
 never seen." 
 
 " But now that I have seen her, this 
 objection is done away with ; and you will 
 confer an inestimable benefit on me by 
 never speaking to me of anything or any- 
 body else."
 
 THE student's WIFE. 279 
 
 Caroline looked earnestly at Philip for a 
 few seconds ; then she said, quietly — 
 
 *' How much reality and how much non- 
 sense is there in all tliis, Mr. Maranham ?" 
 
 *' Do you mean in my admiration of 
 Miss Berrington?'' 
 
 " In the extravagant rhapsodies you are 
 uttering concerning her." 
 
 *' By heavens ! — you have no soul, or you 
 would not ask such a question, or doubt 
 that my whole heart and spirit are engaged 
 in the matter. Come, Caroline, let us be 
 friends again, and you will take me at 
 once — now — this minute — to call at the 
 rectorv." 
 
 Whatever emotions of pity or surprise 
 Caroline Ashton might have felt in listen- 
 ing to the uninvited confidences of !Mrs. 
 Forrest's nephew, she could not, at this 
 last request, forbear laughing outright. 
 
 '' Oh, laugh away," he said, passionately. 
 " It is so easy for you frozen-hearted beings 
 to mock the warm impulses of those in 
 whose breasts natm^e has kindled an ever- 
 gloTvdng fire. But I tell you, frankly, that
 
 280 THE student's wife. 
 
 I am determined to know that exquisite, 
 divine Theresa, whether you introduce me 
 or not : so you will gain nothing by your 
 ill nature." 
 
 "I am really not aware of anything I 
 could gain" — retorted Caroline, with a 
 slight increase of colour — " by preventing 
 your acquaintance with Miss Berrington ; 
 and, to convince you that I have no such 
 desire, I beg you will be at home to-morrow 
 morning, about eleven o'clock, when my 
 friend Theresa is coming to take a singing 
 lesson. Now let me pass, if you please. I 
 can afford you no further information." 
 
 " You are not angry ?" 
 
 " Why should I be ? You do injustice 
 to yourself, and not to me, by exhibiting 
 petulance and want of moral discipline. 
 Another time, when you are in your right 
 senses, I may give you a piece of serious 
 and friendly advice ; at present it would 
 be misconstrued, as any explanation is 
 impossible. Now, good bye. I am going 
 to sit with your aunt for the rest of the 
 morning."
 
 CHAPTER XXII, 
 
 Theresa was punctual to her appoint- 
 ment on the following morning, and Philip 
 Maranham was introduced to her in due 
 form. Mrs. Porrest, who had heard some 
 of his ravings of the previous day, already 
 trembled in anticipation of an imprudent 
 attachment, and a still more imprudent 
 love match. She could not find it in her 
 heart to depreciate Theresa in any way; 
 but she did contrive to hint to her nepliew 
 the folly it would be to think seriously of 
 a girl without a penny, when he considered 
 the income his uncle had left him — wholly 
 inadequate for his individual maintenance. 
 But although Philip knew enough of 
 worldly matters to give assent to this rea- 
 soning, as an abstract principle, he was 
 quite incapable of using it in his own case
 
 282 THE student's wife. 
 
 as a shield against the darts of passion- 
 He listened patiently to the gentle words 
 of his very gentle relative, kissed her soft, 
 white hand when she ceased to speak, and 
 assured her there was — 
 
 " Nothins half so sweet in life 
 
 As love's young dream." 
 
 Theresa had never looked more lovely 
 and attractive than she did on the morning 
 of her presentation to Philip Maranham. 
 The pensive, almost languid, air that had 
 lately replaced her joyous smiles suited well 
 her madonna style of beauty; and there 
 was such a total absence of all coquetry, 
 such a perfect indifference as to the effect 
 she might produce on the young, handsome 
 stranger, that Philip, wholly ignorant of 
 the source whence this msonciance arose, 
 felt convinced that the pure, faultless, 
 radiant creature of his secret imagination 
 stood, at length, in human form, before 
 his enraptured sight. 
 
 He was almost too agitated and delighted
 
 THE student's avife. 283 
 
 to talk, though he did make one or two 
 efforts to engage his pale idol in some sort 
 of conversation; but Theresa answered 
 him absently, or in monosyllables, and he 
 soon abandoned the attempt, and seemed 
 contented to absorb every other faculty in 
 that of vision. 
 
 Caroline Ashton w^as far from an unin- 
 terested spectator of this scene, but she 
 knew it would be useless to interfere. She 
 seemed to feel, mdeed, with that singular 
 prescience which is sometimes granted to 
 thoughtful persons at particular epochs 
 of then' lives, that any effort to stem the 
 impetuosity of the torrent that had so 
 abruptly broken forth, would be dangerous 
 as well as idle, — that a fiery course of 
 passion was destined to be run, — and that 
 her part in the matter could only be of a 
 silent and unobtrusive character. 
 
 At present she must watch and listen, 
 whether it was agreeable to her or not. 
 Philip seemed to be unconscious of her 
 very existence, as well as of that of every
 
 284 THE student's wife. 
 
 other being in the world, except Theresa 
 Berrington. The latter was evidently far 
 from appreciating this distinction as it 
 deserved ; and when Tantalus and Charon 
 rushed suddenly from the lawn into the 
 parlour, she devoted all her attention to 
 them, and appeared really glad of an 
 excuse for remaining silent. 
 
 But Philip would not let her escape 
 even now. After gazing for a few minutes 
 at the pretty group formed by Theresa and 
 the two huge dogs at play together, he 
 said abruptly — " You are not, then, afraid 
 of those rude animals, Miss Berrington ?" 
 
 " Afraid ! Oh, no. I love all kinds of 
 dumb creatures; and these appear as 
 good-tempered as they are beautiful." 
 
 " Yes, I have tamed them pretty well ; 
 but Miss Ashton and my aunt are both 
 timid with them still. You ought to 
 come oftener, and set them a braver 
 example.'' 
 
 "Theresa has been indeed a deserter 
 of late," said Mrs. Porrest, who had
 
 THE student's WIFE. 285 
 
 entered in time to hear this last observa- 
 tion. " She used to be my constant 
 companion." 
 
 " But you have others now," replied 
 Theresa : '* and my duties are also mul- 
 tiplied since then. I could scarcely get 
 away for an hour this morning." 
 
 " And we are wasting it all in idle chit 
 chat," exclaimed Caroline, starting up 
 fi'om her dra\^'ing table. " Come, Mr. 
 Maranham, I must turn you and your 
 dogs out of the room, unless any of you 
 wish to assist at our singing lesson." 
 
 "Oh, do let me stay," pleaded Philip, 
 turning his fine, expressive eyes from 
 Caroline to Theresa, in a most beseech- 
 ing manner. " I will be so quiet, you 
 shall not know I am in the room ; and, 
 upon my soul, I have no idea what to 
 do with myself, if vou send me awav." 
 
 " Nevertheless, we must have the bar- 
 barity to do it," said Caroline, discovering, 
 from Theresa's face, that she did not want 
 him with them ; " and if you go at once,
 
 286 THE student's wife. 
 
 we will, perhaps, suffer you to walk part 
 of the way back to the rectory with us, 
 as I intend accompanying Miss Berring- 
 ton when the lesson is over.'* 
 
 Philip's eyes sparkled at this promise, 
 and, with one more longing, lingering 
 gaze at the object of his sudden admira- 
 tion, he whistled to his dogs, and, with 
 Mrs. Porrest, passed out upon the lawn. 
 
 *' How do you like him, Theresa?" said 
 Miss Ashton, when they were quite alone. 
 " Don't say you have had no time to form 
 an opinion, because I am certain that you 
 have formed one." 
 
 " Yes, it is true. I do not admire Mr. 
 Maranham at all." 
 
 " What fault do you find with him ?" 
 
 " He does not interest me in the slightest 
 degree. I cannot endure to hear a young 
 man say he does not know what to do with 
 himself. It is a sign of an unoccupied, if 
 not a shallow, mind." 
 
 *" Not always, Theresa ; but what is your 
 next charge against Philip Maranham ?
 
 THE STUDENT'S WIFE. 287 
 
 " He stares at one so perseveringly — not 
 to say rudely. Nobody could like such 
 close observation from a stranger.'' 
 
 " He admires you excessively, Theresa.'* 
 
 *' Does he ? I am sorry for it. He 
 ought to admire you." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because your heart is still light and 
 free; therefore, capable of being won." 
 
 " And may not yours be light and free 
 again some day, Theresa ? — and if so, may 
 not Philip Maranham win it ?" 
 
 "Never!" replied Theresa, firmly and 
 emphatically. "My self-knowledge is 
 limited enough, I do not doubt ; but it 
 extends to the point of this conviction, that 
 I could as easily fall in love with the man 
 in the moon, as with this fascinating Mr. 
 Maranham." 
 
 "Indeed," said Caroline, shortly. "Then 
 now let us proceed to our singing lesson." 
 
 Theresa took consideral)le pains with 
 her part of the duet, and Caroline assured 
 her pupil, at the conclusion of the lesson,
 
 288 THE STUDENT'S WIEE. 
 
 that she had no reason to be ashamed of 
 the voice which nature had bestowed upon 
 her, cultivation alone being required to 
 render it a most attractive one. 
 
 " And you will come frequently to 
 practise with me, will you not ?" she said, 
 as Theresa put away the music books and 
 closed the piano. 
 
 " Perhaps I may avail myself of your 
 kindness,'' was the somewhat hesitating 
 reply ; "but I will tell you after Monday. 
 Must we have Mr. Maranham to walk 
 with us now?" 
 
 '^ Yes, I promised him he should go. 
 You are hard upon this young man, The- 
 resa." 
 
 " And you are singularly indulgent, I 
 think ; so one will balance the other." 
 
 Caroline left the room quickly to put 
 on her bonnet, and Philip joined them, a 
 few minutes later, in the garden. 
 
 As they passed a white rose tree, where a 
 single full-blown flower raised its fair head 
 proudly amidst the fast -withering leaves
 
 THE student's WIFE. 289 
 
 around, Mr. Maranliam took out his pen- 
 knife, and carefully severing this beautiful 
 memorial of fading summer from its stem, 
 presented it, somewhat timidly, to Theresa. 
 
 *' Thank vou," she said, coldly. "It is 
 a beautiful flower ; but you must find one 
 for Miss Ashton, or I cannot accept this." 
 
 "There are no more roses,'' replied 
 Philip, evidently hurt at her ungracious- 
 ness. " I will find another flower for 
 your friend." 
 
 "You are mistaken," rejoined Theresa, 
 stooping down and exhibiting a tiny bud, 
 half hidden amongst the luxuriant and 
 drooping foliage. Here is one which, 
 though born out of season, will bloom 
 freshly when this you have plucked for me 
 is scattered to the Avinds of heaven." 
 
 "You are growing poetical, dear Theresa," 
 said Caroline, as she took from Philip's 
 hand the still green bud he offered with so 
 little empressement ; and tlien, with a calm 
 smile of thanks to the donor, she led the 
 way through the littla gate into the lane. 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 THE student's wife. 
 
 The walk to the rectory was a very short 
 one; and, although Philip was not much 
 indebted to the conversational powers of 
 either of his companions, he expressed 
 unbounded regret when Theresa's home 
 appeared in sight, and told the latter, at 
 parting, that he should count the minutes 
 until Monday, when he hoped to find her 
 kinder to him than she had been to-day. 
 
 As Theresa shook hands with Caroline, 
 the rose Philip had given her — already 
 shaken by the wind — fell to pieces, and 
 left the bare stalk alone in her possession. 
 
 '' I told you how it would be," she said, 
 half smiling, and glancing at Caroline's 
 still uninjured bud. "The sun had forced 
 mine into premature bloom, and it has 
 withered at a breath. Yours was nou- 
 rished in the cool shade, and it will have 
 a long and vigorous life. Good bye, both 
 of you : we shall meet on Monday." 
 
 "Do you wish to extend our walk, or 
 shall we go home at once ?" said Caroline, 
 as they turned away from the rectory gate ; 
 " I will do whichever you prefer."
 
 THE student's WIFE. 291 
 
 She spoke very kindly and softly, as if 
 she had really commenced her patient, 
 sisterly office, and Avas ready to sympathize, 
 heart and soul, with her wayward com- 
 panion. 
 
 " Take me where you like. I care for 
 nothing now," he answered, passionately; 
 then adding, the next moment, " Don't let 
 me be such a brute to you, Caroline ; leave 
 me to myself; I don't know what I say." 
 
 ^* Do you wish to be alone ?" 
 
 '' No ; but I have no right to bore you 
 with my ill humours. I have a bad dis- 
 position ; I am selfish and impatient. You 
 will soon be altogether disgusted Avith me, 
 if you see into the inner sanctuary of my 
 unregulated, evil heart." 
 
 *' But I thought I was to be your friend, 
 your sister ; and having accepted the office, 
 I shall not shrink from its duties." 
 
 " But they will weary you to death ; you 
 will sink under the heavy burden." 
 
 *' I think not. At any rate, I am pre. 
 pared to make the trial." 
 " Well, you shall, then. I will speak my
 
 292 THE student's wife. 
 
 thoughts aloud. And to begin — I am 
 madly in love with Theresa Berriugton." 
 
 ''I know it." 
 
 " No, you don't. You see that I admire 
 her : you hear the few words of homa^^e 
 that rise spontaneously, and bubble over 
 the foaming sea of passion that lies beneath; 
 but you know no more of the wild love I 
 feel for her than you do of the treasures 
 that rest for ever in the unfathomable 
 depths of ocean. Pshaw ! what should a 
 young lady, fresh from Eairiield House, 
 Kensington, know of sT!tch love as this ?" 
 
 " I do not even believe in its existence," 
 said Caroline, quietly. 
 
 " What do you mean ? Did you not 
 say, just now, that you knew I loved Miss 
 Berrins^ton ?" 
 
 " I said I knew that you were in love 
 with her; but I have two very distinct 
 meanings for ' loving' and ' being in love.' 
 The first can result only from an intimate 
 knowledge of the beloved object, and a 
 keen appreciation of certain endearing 
 qualities that you have — or fancy you
 
 THE student's WIFE. 293 
 
 have — discovered in her. The last may 
 be forced into existence in an hour hy the 
 effect of mere physical beauty on an 
 inflammable imagination — and all the fine 
 sounding words about foaming seas of 
 passion, and such like, belong not to this 
 passion itself, but are a natural appendage 
 to the excitable imagination, in which the 
 sentiment has arisen." 
 
 "Humph!" said Philip, turning sud- 
 denly to the speaker : " this is pretty well, 
 I think, for a school girl. But, I presume, 
 you will not disj)ute that ' being in love' 
 may lead, in course of time, to 'loving;' 
 that it is, indeed, a formidable step in that 
 dhection." 
 
 " Possibly it may be, and, with you, I 
 do not doubt that it is ; therefore, in my 
 capacity of sisterly adviser, I would seri- 
 ously entreat of you to crush, vrith a strong 
 hand and fu'm will, anv feelius^s bevond 
 those of the simplest friendliness that you 
 now entertain for Theresa Berrin2:ton. 
 The task I recommend cannot be such 
 a very difiicult one at present; but it
 
 294 THE student's wife. 
 
 may become one of impossibility, if long 
 delayed." 
 
 ''Excellent and valuable advice," said 
 Philip ; " but there are two reasons against 
 my following it — one is, that I could not, 
 if I would; and the other, that I would 
 not, if I could." 
 
 " You like suffering, then, I presume ?" 
 
 " Not more than most people ; but I see 
 no gigantic cause opposing itself against 
 my indulging in a passion for Miss Ber- 
 rington. She is not engaged, is she?" 
 
 " I believe not." 
 
 " Then, why should I not love her, and 
 try, at least, in all humility, to gain her 
 love." 
 
 '' You scorn my advice." 
 
 " Only because I cannot discover on 
 what grounds it is offered. My aunt has 
 probably infected you with her fears about 
 our poverty ; but I tell you I laugh at 
 these. Love would more than atone to 
 me for the few luxuries I might have to 
 dispense with. Oh, Caroline!" — and his 
 voice suddenly changed to one of deep and
 
 THE student's WIFE. 295 
 
 passionate sadness, while he laid his hand 
 on the passive arm of his companion — " Oh, 
 Caroline I do not dissuade me from seeking 
 earth's brightest gift. If you knew how 
 lonely and desolate I sometimes feel, how 
 my heart pants for a true and fixed affec- 
 tion — for a love that no time or circum- 
 stance could change — for the sympathy 
 and tenderness of a pure, bright angel, such 
 as Theresa appears to me, — you would pass 
 over, and look beyond the cold dictates of 
 worldly prudence, and assist me with all 
 your soul in the attainment of this blessed 
 object." 
 
 Caroline remained silent. What more, 
 ind^^ed, could she urge, without betraying 
 the secret she was so solemnly pledged to 
 conceal ? She would have saved Philip, 
 had it been in her power ; but it seemed 
 as if fate was against him. 
 
 " You do not answer," he said, at length. 
 " You are wearying already of my confi- 
 dences." 
 
 " I am not," she forcibly replied. " I am 
 thinking how I can best befriend you."
 
 296 THE student's wife. 
 
 " Dear, kind Caroline ! And, what an 
 ungrateful idiot I have been to you." 
 
 With a sudden impulse of repentance or 
 gratitude, he seized the hand that was 
 then resting quietly on his arm, and 
 attempted to draw it to his lips ; but Caro- 
 line resisted even this familiarity. 
 
 "I do not require any gratitude, Mr. 
 Maranham; nor — nor" — she continued, 
 with unusual hesitation and embarrass- 
 ment — nor do I wish for this." 
 
 "Oh, I beg your pardon I" he replied, 
 quickly, almost thro^A ing aAvay the hand he 
 had taken. " I had forgotten for the 
 moment that I was in companionship with 
 a young lady from Pairfield House. Por 
 pity's sake let us return home, or I may 
 be committing some other act of indis- 
 cretion." 
 
 END OE VOL. I. 
 
 T. C. Newby, Printer, 30, Welbeck-street, Cavendish-square.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
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