DISPLAY. 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY frL E 
 
 MRS. MABERLY. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "LEONTINE," "THE LADY AND THE PRIEST, 
 
 &c, &c. 
 
 1 What will this come to ?"— Timon op Athens, 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 1855.
 
 PRINTED BT CHARLES BETAS AND SON, 
 street's BUILDINGS, CHAPEL STREET, OROSVENOR SQl AIM
 
 v.| 
 
 DISPLAY 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was the night before the wedding ! 
 
 The next morning, the beautiful Laura 
 Malcolm was to be married to Sir Aubrey 
 Mannering, one of the richest baronets of 
 the day. It was what is called " a great 
 match." Everything was ready, and the 
 bustle attending upon all the necessary pre- 
 parations for so grand an event, having at 
 length subsided, the inmates of Camerford 
 House might be supposed to have betaken 
 themselves to repose. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 DISPLAY. 
 
 The evidence of the great labour of the 
 preceding day justified such a supposition, 
 for the magnificent hall and staircase were 
 already ornamented with a profusion of 
 wreaths of choice evergreens, to which, 
 flowers, freshly gathered, were to be added 
 early in the morning. 
 
 Mr. Malcolm, father of the bride elect, 
 having resolved that nothing should be 
 wanting to give eclat to a marriage he had 
 long had so much at heart, had given orders 
 for a sumptuous fete, which was to begin 
 immediately upon the return of the bridal 
 party from the parish church, where the 
 solemn ceremony was to take place. A 
 grand breakfast within the house had long 
 been announced, and it was said that the 
 hospitality of Mr. Malcolm was to be ex- 
 tended next day, not only to all the most 
 distinguished residents of his own county,
 
 DISPLAY. 6 
 
 but to those of the two neighbouring ones, 
 so that there appeared little danger of his 
 handsome and spacious rooms not being well 
 filled. 
 
 In addition to this, the beautiful pleasure 
 grounds were to be thrown open to the 
 tenantry and their friends, and rows of 
 marquees, and an endless profusion of 
 coloured lamps, and places for fireworks, 
 proclaimed that the rejoicings were intended 
 to be on an unusual scale of grandeur. Mr. 
 Malcolm, always magnificent, had on this 
 occasion outdone himself. He was deter- 
 mined that his daughter should not, as he 
 confidentially expressed it to Mr. Winthrop, 
 his agent, " be married up in a corner. " 
 
 So everything was splendid, and many a 
 heart beat high with anticipations of de- 
 light. 
 
 A fete in the country is of tenfold more 
 
 b 2
 
 4 DISPLAY 
 
 consequence than a fete in town ; and Mr. 
 Malcolm, having undergone all the usual 
 fatigue and annoyance inseparable upon 
 being the giver of so grand a party, was 
 not sorry to be at length left for a few 
 hours alone. He had watched, with an 
 anxiety somewhat at variance with his usual 
 stately manner, for the first symptoms of 
 declining day, but no one would take the 
 hint, although his repeated assurances of 
 being " perfectly satisfied," and that " all 
 was quite ready," might have shown to the 
 busy throng around him, how ardently he 
 desired their departure. 
 
 Still no one would go. Every one was 
 intent upon admiring his own handiwork ; 
 and there was always some " last thing " to 
 be done, which kept the house in a con- 
 tinual state of disturbance, and began to 
 cause no inconsiderable irritation in the 
 mind of its owner.
 
 DISPLAY. .5 
 
 At last his vexations came to an end — 
 for vexations, like everything else, have an 
 end, though irritable people pretend never 
 to believe it. One by one, friends, servants, 
 workmen, and attendants, all disappeared, 
 and Camerford House was left to its repose. 
 
 This repose, however, was not, as has 
 been before stated, so complete as might 
 have been imagined. It was long after 
 midnight, when a light step might have 
 been detected passing along the gallery 
 which led to the sleeping apartments in the 
 west wing of the mansion. It paused be- 
 fore the door at the end — some one entered 
 the room, and the door was immediately 
 closed, with as much precaution as though 
 some fearful deed of darkness was about to 
 be done within that chamber. 
 
 It was, however, no midnight burglar 
 with blackened face, who thus stealthily
 
 6 DISPLAY. 
 
 intruded into the actual abode of youth and 
 beauty ; for the figure that appeared was 
 that of a very young girl, so young as to 
 have only just passed the age of childhood. 
 She paused immediately on entering the 
 room, and threw a hasty glance around, as 
 if to be quite sure of being alone. From 
 the nervous timidity of her manner, it 
 might have been thought that she stood 
 upon forbidden ground ; but it was not the 
 case. That little room, with its blue satin 
 walls, was the dressing-room of her sister, 
 Laura Malcolm, the bride-elect. 
 
 But where, at that moment, was the 
 beautiful Laura? She, who was to enact 
 so important a part in the morrow's pageant, 
 and the happiness or sorrow of whose whole 
 life hung upon the few words she would have 
 to utter within a still fewer number of 
 hours from that instant, was wrapped in a
 
 DISPLAY. 7 
 
 repose as calm and profound as might have 
 been expected, were nothing about to occur 
 to disturb the even tenour of her days. 
 
 In the adjoining chamber, Laura Malcolm 
 was fast asleep — but Genevieve, her young 
 sister, watched — and thought. 
 
 As Genevieve perceived that her entrance 
 had been perfectly unnoticed, her fears 
 seemed to vanish. She advanced to the 
 table occupying the centre of the room, 
 and, setting down a small taper which she 
 carried, she looked carefully round. 
 
 Everywhere the bridal finery ready pre- 
 pared, announced the coming ceremony. A 
 beautiful lace dress was laid, apparently 
 with great care, upon the sofa of blue 
 damask, the veil, aud wreath of orange 
 blossom and jessamine, were placed by its 
 side, while on the dressing-table were jewel 
 cases, and all the minor appendages of the
 
 8 DISPLAY. 
 
 toilet, arranged with the most scrupulous 
 nicety. 
 
 Poor Genevieve ! it had been her work, 
 and she had come to take a last look, and 
 to see that every thing was in the place 
 which she had assigned to it. She went 
 round the room. All was as she had left 
 it, except the wreath of orange flowers. 
 It had fallen on one side. With a gesture 
 of impatience she replaced it upon the little 
 gilt stand on which it had been hung. 
 
 " How unlucky I" she exclaimed half 
 aloud. " The bride's crown fallen ! but 
 perhaps Laura has been trying it on. She 
 said to-day it did not become her — that she 
 hated a wreath. I wish she had not said 
 so. It may bring some bad luck. And yet 
 she looked so beautiful in it — her black hair 
 shining through the white flowers — dear, 
 dear Laura !"
 
 DISPLAY. V 
 
 With a deep sigh the young girl turned 
 her eyes to the closed door of the room 
 where her sister slept, and for a moment 
 seemed as if inclined to rush in and disturb 
 a state of quietude in which her own spirit 
 had no share. Her colour went and came. 
 Her large eyes alternately flashed and filled 
 with tears, as she strained and twisted her 
 clasped hands in the violence of her emo- 
 tion. 
 
 She would have given the world to have 
 had one last embrace — one last assurance 
 from the sister she so passionately loved, 
 that she would love her still — that this 
 marriage should not separate their hearts ! 
 
 The thought of such a possibility was 
 great agony. Genevieve cast wild looks 
 round her. She felt as if she could not 
 bear what was going to happen, and, start- 
 ing from where she stood, her hand was in
 
 10 DISPLAY. 
 
 an instant upon the lock of the door. Ere, 
 however, she could turn it, her eye once 
 more caught the gleam of the white dress 
 in the candle-light, and the sudden recollec- 
 tion of the next day's coming ceremony fell 
 upon her. 
 
 Why should she seek to agitate her sister ? 
 She who was on the morrow to be the idol 
 of so many admiring eyes! Genevieve 
 could not be so selfish, and with a great 
 effort she turned away from the door, and 
 walked to the other side of the room. 
 
 As she passed a small table in a recess, 
 some flowers half withered, which were 
 lying upon it, met her eye. She recognised 
 them as those which Laura had worn that 
 day at/dinner. A glove was on the ground 
 near them, and, snatching it up, she kissed 
 it with the most passionate fondness. 
 
 Again and again she pressed every flower
 
 DISPLAY. 1 1 
 
 to her lips, murmuring, as she did so, 
 " Laura, dear, dear Laura !" — till at last 
 she burst into the most violent paroxysm of 
 tears, and sobbed as if her heart was break- 
 ing. 
 
 It was a touching sight, that outpouring 
 of genuine grief and affection from so young 
 a heart ; but Genevieve, though young, was 
 not childish, and thoughts and doubts had 
 arisen in her mind which she had not dared 
 to breathe to any ear, but which redoubled 
 her sorrow. 
 
 All day she had been so occupied, so 
 observed, that she could not cry — but now 
 that she was alone, what bitter tears fell 
 over those faded flowers: her slight and 
 bending figure seemed actually unable to 
 sustain its own weight, and for a long time 
 she continued to sit upon the low seat on 
 which she had at first thrown herself, leaning
 
 12 DISPLAY. 
 
 her face upon her hands, while the tears 
 poured over them. 
 
 All at once she suddenly started from her 
 position. She raised herself in her chair, 
 and seemed to listen attentively. There 
 was a sound upon the deep stillness of the 
 house. At first it was indistinct, but soon 
 a coming footstep could be heard. Nearer 
 and nearer it came. Genevieve started to 
 her feet. Her cheeks blanched with terror. 
 Like many people, she was ashamed of her 
 emotion — ashamed of what is most beauti- 
 ful in the human heart — affection and devo- 
 tion to another. 
 
 With a trembling hand, she gathered up 
 the flowers which lay upon her lap, threw 
 them on the table, and hastily concealed the 
 treasured glove within the folds of her dress. 
 All this time her eyes were fixed upon the 
 door, towards which a heavy step now ra- 
 pidly advanced.
 
 DISPLAY. 13 
 
 It opened at last — that much dreaded 
 door — but neither slowly nor stealthily, nor 
 by small degrees — for it required the very 
 ample space of a well wide-opened door to 
 admit a full view of the portly form which 
 presented itself, and which was no other 
 than that of Mrs. Leigh, the housekeeper 
 of Camerford House, in her striped cotton 
 gown and red shawl, her every-day dress. 
 
 If the countenance of Genevieve betrayed 
 alarm, it was nothing compared to the 
 scared expression winch overspread the 
 comely face of Mrs. Leigh, as the appari- 
 tion of Genevieve, in her white dress, stand- 
 ing in the middle of the room, met her view. 
 She started so violently, that the candle she 
 held, fell from her hand, and the dim light 
 which remained in the apartment, did not 
 help to mitigate her fears. 
 
 " Lor bless me ! " she exclaimed, retreat-
 
 14 DISPLAY. 
 
 ing a few paces, " who's there ? What are 
 you doing? What business have you 
 here?" 
 
 " It's only me," said the sweet voice of 
 Genevieve, and, raising her head — for, on 
 the fall of the candlestick, she had bent to 
 the floor to pick it up, and save the cotton 
 gown of Mrs Leigh from being instantly in 
 in a blaze, she looked her full in the 
 face. 
 
 " Only me," repeated the astonished 
 woman, advancing a few steps. " Why, sure, 
 it's Miss Genevieve ! How ever could you 
 go for to frighten a body so ? Sure enough, 
 I thought it was a ghost. Who'd ever have 
 dreamt of finding you out of your warm 
 bed at this here time of night ? It's out of 
 all reason, I declare." 
 
 "Don't be angry, Sarah," said Gene- 
 vieve, soothingly, " or I shall call you Mrs.
 
 DISPLAY, 15 
 
 Leigh, and never come to your store-room 
 any more." 
 
 " Yes you will, though, dear child," said 
 Mrs. Leigh, smoothing down her apron, and 
 composing her ruffled dignity ; " and lots of 
 good things I shall have to give you now. 
 I have heaps of fine things in the store-room 
 now, in spite of Mr. Fillagreeni locking up 
 his door till to-morrow, that we mayn't, as 
 he says, ' copy his patterns in the country.' 
 Set him up, indeed, with his Italian gib- 
 berish and spun sugar ! He'll never beat 
 me in coloured almonds, while my name is 
 Sarah Leigh. Such lovely blues and pinks 
 I made to-day." 
 
 " I am sure they are beautiful, Sarah," 
 said Genevieve, who, at that moment, was 
 thinking of anything but sugared almonds, 
 and dreaded Mrs. Leigh's loquacity. 
 
 " And you must be so very tired ! Why 
 didn't you go to bed?"
 
 1 6 DISPLAY. 
 
 " Me go to bed !" exclaimed Mrs. Leigh, 
 drawing herself up with marvellous dignity. 
 
 " Me go to bed, Miss Genevieve, on such 
 a night as this ! I trust I know my busi- 
 ness too well for that. I havn't been house- 
 keeper for five and thirty years for nothing ;" 
 and the broad face of the good-humoured 
 woman expanded with happy self-compla- 
 cency, as she thought of the days gone by. 
 
 " But indeed, Sarah, everything is ready, 
 and so nice and so pretty," suggested Gene- 
 vieve, who had sunk into an arm chair. 
 
 " And if it is, Miss Genevieve, may I 
 take the liberty of asking why you are here ? 
 Now don't look so sad, my poor child," 
 added the good housekeeper quickly, as she 
 caught the hurried glance approaching des- 
 peration, which Genevieve, as if in answer, 
 cast upon the finery around her. 
 
 " Oh, Sarah !" she murmured gently,
 
 DISPLAY. 17 
 
 but her eyes filled with tears, and she could 
 not add another word. 
 
 " Well, I dare say, of course we shall 
 miss our young lady at first. Of course 
 we shall. Such a one isn't to be seen every 
 day. But, then," continued Mrs. Leigh, in 
 her most cheerful tones, " every one must 
 be married some day or other. And such 
 a wedding, too ! Why, all the old maids 
 and young ladies in the country will be 
 dying of envy. And such a fine, grand 
 gentleman as Sir Aubrey is, too ! Well, 
 I'm sure I shouldn't fret if my sister was 
 making such a match ! Xow do, Miss 
 Genevieve, cheer up a bit, there's a darling ! 
 Do just come here, and let me see how you 
 would look in the orange flower wreath. We 
 shall have to think of your wedding soon." 
 
 " Oh ! Sarah !" cried Genevieve, turning 
 scarlet. 
 
 vol. i. c
 
 1 8 DISPLAY. 
 
 " Don't make all that light" — and she 
 moved fretfully away from the dressing- 
 table, upon which Mrs. Leigh had officiously 
 lighted all the candles. 
 
 " I only want to take one more look at 
 the pearls," she replied.— " Bless my heart, 
 if that isn't a necklace fit for a queen ; now 
 do, Miss Genevieve, look at the diamond 
 clasp ! and four rows of pearls too ! what a 
 deal of money they must be worth ! and 
 yet you wont look at them. Well, its 
 lucky Miss Laura had more sense, if I may 
 make bold to speak my mind " — and with 
 rather an indignant air, Mrs. Leigh closed 
 the jewel-box with a jerk, and put it back 
 in its place. 
 
 For a few minutes she was silent, and 
 contented herself with examining every- 
 thing within her reach. With the help of a 
 huge pair of spectacles upon her nose, every
 
 DISPLAY. 19 
 
 intricacy of the beautiful patterns upon the 
 lace was duly admired. Having turned 
 over each fold, and settled it back again in 
 its former position, she at length appeared 
 satisfied with her inspection ; and, taking 
 up her candlestick, exclaimed — 
 
 " It's all just the most lovely wedding- 
 dress I ever set my eyes upon. I'm glad I 
 had a good look at it, for to-morrow, I sup- 
 pose, I shall be in such a fluster, I shouldn't 
 know lace from muslin. Well — I must be 
 off now — I have my rounds to go and 
 all the maids to call — we shall have hard 
 work enough yet, to get up all the flowers 
 by ten o'clock. It must be after three, 
 now — " 
 
 And, diving down into her spacious 
 pocket, she drew out her great silver 
 watch — 
 
 " No, I declare — it's only half-past two,"' 
 
 c 2
 
 20 DISPLAY. 
 
 she observed, with an air of infinite satis- 
 faction — then, fixing her eyes upon the 
 pale face of Genevieve, she added, kindly — 
 
 " Won't you go to bed, dear child? — you 
 look so tired." 
 
 " Oh ! I could not sleep," said Genevieve, 
 hurriedly. 
 
 " You'll never be able to stand to-mor- 
 row," continued the good housekeeper — 
 " and the breakfast, and the speeches, and 
 the leave-takings — oh ! it will be a busy 
 day ! " 
 
 Genevieve burst into tears. 
 
 " Now, don't take on so, my poor dar- 
 ling child," said Mrs. Leigh, going up to 
 ] ier — « it brings bad luck to cry at a wed- 
 ding." 
 
 " Dear, dear Laura," sobbed Genevieve, 
 convulsively — " perhaps I shall never see 
 her again !"
 
 DISPLAY. . 21 
 
 # 
 " Nonsense ! she will be back directly," 
 
 answered her kind-hearted comforter. 
 
 " Oh ! do you think so ? Why do you 
 think so ? How do you know ? " cried 
 Genevieve, raising her head, and looking 
 with her radiant eyes brim-full of tears, 
 into the face of her companion. 
 
 " I'm sure of it," was the encouraging 
 reply — " sure and certain she'll never stay 
 long from her old home." 
 
 " And I am sure," said Genevieve, wildly, 
 " that she will never come again — I can't 
 get it out of my head, and it is that that 
 breaks my heart. Something bad is going 
 to happen — I know it." 
 
 " God bless me !" exclaimed Mrs. Leigh, 
 struck by the vehemence of the young girl's 
 manner — " What could be going to hap- 
 pen ? And how could you know ?" 
 
 "I don't know — I feel it" said Gene-
 
 22 - DISPLAY. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 vieve, with a shudder — " I have a presenti- 
 ment." 
 
 " A what ? " 
 
 11 A feeling,'' replied Genevieve, suddenly 
 recollecting Mrs. Leigh did not understand 
 French — " a feeling that comes before 
 things — before a misfortune; and, besides, 
 there was such a bad omen — I found the 
 bride's crown fallen down when I came in." 
 
 " Well, what of that, Miss Genevieve ?" 
 
 " Why, they say in France, if the bride's 
 crown falls, she will never be a happy wife. 
 It is a bad omen — a sign. Do you believe 
 in signs, Sarah?" — and Genevieve, who, 
 during her partial education in a convent in 
 the south of France, had picked up an end- 
 less variety of legends and superstitious 
 ideas, looked wistfully into the staring eyes 
 of her astonished auditor. 
 
 " Signs ! God help us — no — yes — that
 
 DISPLAY. 23 
 
 is to say, of course, not ! I believe in any 
 of their heathenish persuasions ! no, not I, 
 Miss Genevieve. I say my prayers, and 
 read my Bible, like a proper Christian — 
 every Sunday evening, a chapter !" 
 
 And Mrs. Leigh put on a very devout 
 ah', although, in her inmost soul, she was 
 anything but free from superstitious fancies, 
 much worse than those to which the fright- 
 ened eyes of Genevieve pleaded guilty. 
 As it was, Mrs. Leigh felt a nervous tremor 
 in the ends of her fingers, and wished she 
 had not heard of " the sign." — Just then, 
 the great clock on the stairs struck three. 
 
 " What's that ?" she cried with a start, as 
 the first stroke fell upon her ear — but the 
 second re-assured her, and the candlestick 
 resumed its erect position, for it was upon 
 the point of being again precipitated upon 
 the floor.
 
 24 DISPLAY. 
 
 t 
 
 " Lor bless us !" she exclaimed, as, with 
 a great effort, she came back to her natural 
 train of ideas and tone of voice — " if there 
 isn't three o'clock — why the daylight will 
 be here in a minute. Now do, Miss Gene- 
 vieve, lie down and rest yourself, and don't 
 be thinking of all the nonsense you heard 
 from them there nuns in France. How 
 should they know, poor benighted heathen 
 things, shut up and fed upon black bread 
 and vinegar ? Eye broth and carrots for 
 their Sunday dinner. God help the poor 
 creatures. How should they know better ? 
 But you, Miss Genevieve — you, with all 
 your masters and governesses, and your fine 
 edication — English and French — though, to 
 be sure," she added, as she thought of the 
 nuns — " if it was all English, it might have 
 been better. I can't think why people 
 can't stick to their own country — thank
 
 DISPLAY. '25 
 
 Heaven, / never was out of England. If 
 I had, I should have lost my hand at the 
 pickles and preserves. No, thank good- 
 ness, I'm English, and I pray that I never 
 may cross the sea, while my name's Sarah 
 Leigh." 
 
 " Sarah," said the sweet voice of Gene- 
 vieve, who, accustomed to the meanderings 
 of the spirit of Mrs. Leigh, knew that the 
 next time she pulled up, might be either in 
 Kamschatka or Van Diemen's Land — " I 
 cannot go to bed — I could not sleep in my 
 own room, but I will lie down here on this 
 sofa in the corner, if you will just settle the 
 cushion, and give me that shawl." 
 
 " There's a dear," cried Mrs. Leigh, in 
 her natural way, and hastily complying with 
 the request — " Now do lie down — I am so 
 glad you will get a little rest — if it was 
 only for an hour."
 
 26 DISPLAY. 
 
 " Thank you — that will do," said Gene^ 
 vieve, settling herself — " I suppose we must 
 be all ready by nine — for the carriages are 
 ordered at ten. Good night, Sarah — and 
 thank you" — and Genevieve, longing to be 
 alone, sank back on her cushions. 
 
 " Good night — and God bless you, dear 
 child. I must make haste and go my 
 rounds/ 
 
 And, strange to say, without another 
 word, Mrs. Leigh left the room.
 
 DISPLAY. 27 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 There were few persons more deserving of 
 encomium than the good woman now wad- 
 dling down the broad staircase of Camer- 
 ford House, prepared to make her usual 
 tour of inspection — deferred to that un- 
 wonted hour, by reason of the onerous 
 duties the hurry of the preceding day had 
 entailed upon her. 
 
 Sarah Leigh was a good old-fashioned 
 housekeeper, not the least above her busi- 
 ness. Mr. Malcolm was far too intelligent 
 a man to have a fine lady for a servant ;
 
 28 DISPLAY. 
 
 and if Mrs. Leigh's bonnet and shawl were 
 sometimes sneered at by the flaunting de- 
 pendents of other great houses in the neigh- 
 bourhood, as she made her way to her seat 
 in the parish church on Sundays, Mr. Mal- 
 colm had the satisfaction of knowing that 
 in her he possessed not only an active ser- 
 vant, but a true and conscientious friend. 
 
 The zeal with which she performed her 
 duties was wonderful. Though nearly as 
 broad as she was long, she was " here, 
 there, and everywhere" in a minute. No- 
 thing escaped her vigilance. The phalanx 
 of maids under her were drilled to perfection 
 — the household was as regular as clock- 
 work — and if a particle of dust had once 
 been discovered on any of the furniture, 
 she would have deemed herself disgraced 
 for ever. 
 
 But it was on the subject of fire that she
 
 DISPLAY. 29 
 
 was most peculiarly sensitive. One would 
 have thought that the whole of her savings 
 were invested in the office in which Camer- 
 ford House was insured. Its being insured, 
 however, by no means caused her to relax 
 in her attention. Country houses that were 
 insured had been burnt down, and that in a 
 very mysterious way, too ; and Mrs. Leigh 
 secretly believed the fault always lay with 
 some one within the walls. 
 
 But she blamed nobody, for she was not 
 an ill-natured woman, and contented herself 
 with nightly searching into every hole and 
 corner, where by any accident a spark could 
 have fallen. She could not, as she ex- 
 pressed it, " lay down in her bed," if this 
 all-important duty had not been religiously 
 fulfilled. 
 
 Not even on this most fatiguing day. 
 when since sunrise she had scarcely for a
 
 30 DISPLAY. 
 
 moment rested, would the worthy Mrs. 
 Leigh relax in her vigilance. On quitting 
 the room where she had left Genevieve, she 
 instantly proceeded on her search, and 
 having satisfied herself that the west wing 
 was perfectly safe from the dangers of igni- 
 tion, she crossed the great hall, in order to 
 carry on her inspection on the other side of 
 the house. 
 
 She had soon completed her survey of 
 the upper rooms, and descending to the 
 ground-floor, the inutility of examining its 
 spacious apartments — the doors of which 
 all stood open — occurred to her, and she 
 was preparing to depart, when, on turning 
 to take a last look, all at once she espied 
 something shining at the other end of the 
 gallery. It was a good way off, and she 
 could not make it out. It looked like a 
 long silver thread — perhaps it was the
 
 DISPLAY. 31 
 
 moon ! But no — the moon did not shine 
 that night. 
 
 Perplexed and somewhat alarmed, as she 
 fancied she saw the light increase, and then 
 disappear for a moment, she advanced ra- 
 pidly, in the hope that what she saw arose 
 neither from fire nor candle, but that some 
 half- closed shutter let in the first glimmer of 
 the coming day. As she approached the 
 spot, however, this idea vanished. The 
 light was still there. A bright distinct line 
 of light shining on the oaken floor. She 
 could even see the joinings of the wood, 
 and the light came from beneath the library 
 door — the small library, or study, as it was 
 called. It was Mr. Malcolm's own room. 
 
 In an agony of fear, the good woman 
 was about to rush in, for the one idea of 
 fire immediately suggested itself to her 
 mind. Her hand almost touched the lock
 
 32 DISPLAY. 
 
 of the door, when, pausing for an instant to 
 collect herself, it struck her that all was 
 perfectly still. No rushing, no crackling, 
 and no smell of burning wood ! 
 
 The house, therefore, could not be on 
 fire. Mrs. Leigh drew a long breath, and 
 with this happy conviction came the thought 
 of the study and its inmate. It could not 
 be Mr. Malcolm ; it was impossible. He 
 never sat up. Eegular in his habits almost 
 to a fault, his movements could be always 
 calculated to a nicety. Twelve o'clock was 
 his hour for going to bed ; and whether the 
 house was full or empty, no one could say 
 they ever saw him enter his dressing-room a 
 moment later. 
 
 It could not, therefore, be Mr. Malcolm, 
 whose vigils caused this mysterious line of 
 light in the passage ; neither was it the 
 agent. Mr. Winthrop had quitted the
 
 DISPLAY. 33 
 
 house at niglitfal; and he and Mr. Mal- 
 colm were the only probable occupants of 
 the study. 
 
 Mrs, Leigh began to be seriously anxious. 
 She thought of knocking at the door ; but 
 supposing she was told to " come in," and 
 that she went in, and found — what ? She 
 did not exactly know what she expected to 
 find. She was growing alarmed — she, a 
 lone woman, there at that hour ! She put 
 her can die close to the door — looked up it and 
 down it, but, alas ! could not see through it. 
 
 No signs of violence upon the outside. 
 The bright mahogany glistened in the can- 
 dlelight, so that the poor woman could see 
 her face in it. Did she see how pale she 
 looked ? No ! she saw nothing but that 
 light beneath the door ; and while she kept 
 her head turned to watch it, as she retreated 
 upon tiptoe down the gallery, it seemed to 
 
 vol. I. D
 
 34 DISPLAY. 
 
 grow longer and longer, and to reach her 
 very feet. With what haste she turned the 
 corner of the hall. The staircase was near ; 
 she got to the lower step, and sat down to 
 breathe. 
 
 A faint blue tint had come upon the ever- 
 green wreaths since she had passed — Oh ! if 
 the daylight would but come quite out ! 
 
 " Whatever shall I do ? " said the agitated 
 Mrs. Leigh ; " some one is shut up in that 
 study — and as sure as I'm alive it's not my 
 master — Had I better call up the men? 
 But no — such a stir at this time of night ! 
 — I know what I'll do. — I'll just step out on 
 the terrace — the blinds mayn't be quite 
 down — I'll soon see who has got into our 
 house, and he shan't get out of it so easily, 
 I promise you." 
 
 And, full of valiant intentions, Mrs. Leigh 
 pulled herself up by the bannisters, and hur-
 
 DISPLAY. 35 
 
 ried away to a side-door opening upon the 
 terrace. — With a trembling hand she unfast- 
 ened the bolts, and threw open the door. 
 The sudden draft extinguished the candle, 
 and for a few moments she stood bewildered 
 — she could scarcely see where she was. 
 
 It is true, a faint blue streak showed the 
 horizon, and began to steal in through the 
 skylight, far above her head, but all the 
 side of the house bordered by the terrace, 
 was in deep shadow, and the prospect was 
 decidedly uninviting. 
 
 The wind, although a summer one, was 
 rather high, and was moaning amongst the 
 trees, and every now and then a stronger 
 gust made the boughs of the taller poplars 
 shiver and sigh, with a sound that was not 
 particularly pleasant, when one could not 
 see their pretty silver leaves playing and 
 fluttering in the air. Mrs. Leigh, although 
 
 d 2
 
 36 DISPLAY. 
 
 far from repenting of her purpose, did not 
 quite like the expedition. 
 
 " Lor bless me ! " she said, half aloucP; 
 " but its dreadful dark — just the night for 
 ghosts ; but go I must. Heaven help us ! 
 what a howl," she added, as the wind whis- 
 tled through the half-opened door, and she 
 pulled her shawl over her head. "I 
 shouldn't wonder if we have a thunder- 
 storm — It's a bad sign for a wedding, they 
 say." 
 
 And with her head full of signs and 
 omens, in which, notwithstanding her ge- 
 nuine English education, she was a firm 
 believer, she sallied forth. 
 
 It was a good way round, for the house 
 was very large ; and, before she arrived at 
 her destination, her agitation considerably 
 increased — for she had to pass over a spot 
 where, about a year back, a workman had
 
 DISPLAY. 37 
 
 been killed by falling from a scaffold ; and 
 it had been constantly affirmed in the vil- 
 lage, and all about the place — though in 
 very low whispers — that his ghost l walked 7 
 the terrace ever since. 
 
 Certain it was, that several people had 
 been frightened into fits by the said ghost, 
 which was reported to be ' a man without a 
 head.' They need not have gone as far as 
 the terrace to find one. It was, however, a 
 fact, that a man had fractured his skull 
 there, and died upon the spot. Mrs. Leigh 
 well knew the very stone — it was a long 
 flag, a little whiter than the rest, and Gene- 
 vieve, with her pretty foreign ways, had 
 painted a little black fcross upon it. She 
 dared not make it any larger ; but Mrs. 
 Leigh, as she cautiously avoided stepping 
 on the stone as she passed, felt as if she 
 could see it quite well.
 
 38 DISPLAY. 
 
 She tightened the shawl over her nose, 
 and when she arrived within a few paces of 
 the study windows, she was, as she said to 
 herself, " all in the shakes, and felt no- 
 how!" 
 
 Still, her courage never flagged — it was 
 part of her duty ; she was acting in defence 
 of her master's property — and her ample 
 bosom swelled with conscious dignity, as 
 she felt she had surmounted the difficulty 
 of the ghosts, and was about to make the 
 discovery she deemed of so much import- 
 ance. 
 
 Surely enough, the light was in the study 
 still. Brightly it threw its glare upon the 
 smooth white flags which bordered the ter- 
 race. The three large windows, however, 
 had all their blinds carefully drawn down. 
 The first was impenetrable — the blind fitted 
 close, as if pasted to the glass. With the
 
 DISPLAY. 39 
 
 second, however, she was more lucky — the 
 blind had been crumpled by opening the 
 window, which was a French one, and hung 
 a little on one side. 
 
 A long slit between the edge and the 
 window-frame gave a great portion of the 
 apartment to view. Mrs. Leigh raised her- 
 self upon her toes — she could see half the 
 room. A lamp was standing on a large 
 writing-table almost in the middle of it. 
 That accounted for the stream of light, and 
 the line beneath the door — but no living 
 creature could she see. 
 
 For a long time she watched patiently, 
 and at last began to believe that which she 
 would not at first have admitted — that the 
 butler had forgotten to put out the lights. 
 Suddenly, however, a shadow passed be- 
 tween her and a second light, less glaring 
 than that of the lamp, and which seemed t< i
 
 40 DISPLAY. 
 
 be placed a little further down the 
 room. 
 
 There was, therefore, certainly some one 
 in the study. Who could it be ? In ano- 
 ther moment all doubt was dispelled — a 
 figure moved across the floor. It was Mr. 
 Malcolm himself. To any other person this 
 would have seemed an event too natural to 
 require any comment ; but Mrs. Leigh, 
 thoroughly conversant with every habit and 
 peculiarity of a master she had long served, 
 thought otherwise. 
 
 It was, therefore, with some anxiety that 
 she watched his movements, as he advanced 
 directly to the table upon which the lamp 
 stood. 
 
 He held in his hand what appeared to 
 her a bundle of papers ; but, on his seating 
 himself at the table, he unfolded the packet, 
 and she then saw that it was but one sheet.
 
 DISPLAY. 41 
 
 and that, of unusually large dimensions. 
 He spread it upon the the table before him, 
 and, drawing an ink-stand towards him, be- 
 gan to read. 
 
 In a few moments, however, he seemed 
 to have completed his task, and much to 
 his own satisfaction, for he smiled and 
 looked excessively pleased, as he turned the 
 paper in every direction towards the lamp, 
 holding it several times between himself 
 and the light, as if to examine its trans- 
 parency. 
 
 " Why, its only a law paper, after all," 
 said Mrs. Leigh, forgetting, in her disap- 
 pointment, that she was alone, and speaking 
 in her natural tone of voice — " I know it 
 by the long letters in the corner ! Well, to 
 be sure — a fine fright I have had for no- 
 thing. Only to see my master reading a 
 law paper ! But, to be sure, who'd have
 
 42 DISPLAY. 
 
 thought he'd have sat up till this hour to 
 do it ! And the wedding-day, too. Well, 
 now my mind's quiet, I'll just go in again, 
 and set myself a bit to rights, for here's the 
 daylight coming." 
 
 It is just possible that in her vexation 
 the worthy Mrs. Leigh raised her voice to 
 such a pitch that the sound penetrated 
 through the windows into the study, or, 
 perhaps, the blue light of the dawning day 
 announced to the watcher that his vigils 
 ought to cease. Certain it is, that the lamp 
 within the room was suddenly extinguished, 
 and, by the faint light that remained, Mrs. 
 Leigh could see no more — so she made her 
 way back to the housekeeper's room as fast 
 as she could, poured out a comfortable cup 
 of tea, and sat down to enjoy herself 
 quietly till the time came for her to 
 put on her new suit of stiff brown lute-
 
 DISPLAY. 43 
 
 string, and straw bonnet with yellow rib- 
 bons, in which she was to appear at the 
 wedding.
 
 44 DISPLAY 
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 Two or three hours ! What a little space 
 compared to eternity ! Yet, how eventful 
 in the lives of men — in the appearance of 
 places — in the alteration of feelings ! 
 
 As the trusty Mrs. Leigh rolled along in 
 the old family coach, destined to convey the 
 elite of the female part of the household from 
 Camerford House to the church, she could 
 not help smiling, as she passed in front of 
 the terrace, and saw the windows of the 
 library. 
 
 She kept her recollections, however, to
 
 DISLAY. 45 
 
 herself; for she was a woman of great pru- 
 dence when not under the influence of her 
 fear of ghosts, and there was no danger of 
 them just then. Never had any place worn 
 a brighter or happier look than Camerford 
 House did upon that morning. 
 
 The promise of the night had not been 
 fulfilled ; daylight had brought with it all 
 its splendour, and bathed the beautiful 
 grounds in a flood of sunshine. The 
 interior of the mansion had likewise re- 
 covered its gaiety. The guests invited to 
 witness the ceremony were rapidly arriving. 
 The marriage settlements at the last moment 
 were duly signed, and the bride in all her 
 finery, was for the last time doing the 
 honours of her father's house, and receiv- 
 ing with the most perfect grace, the con- 
 gratulations of a whole host of particular 
 friends, who were hastening already to load
 
 46 DISPLAY. 
 
 with flattery and caresses the future mistress 
 of Mannering Park, and possessor of a for- 
 tune of thirty thousand a year. 
 
 Even Genevieve, the timid, tearful Gene- 
 vieve, had summoned all her courage, and, 
 in her capacity of bridesmaid, hovered 
 round her sister with the prettiest effect 
 imaginable. Very lovely she looked in her 
 dress of pink and white, with her large 
 clustering fair curls escaping from beneath 
 her bonnet. Half child, and half woman, 
 she united the playfulness of the one, Avith 
 the sensibility of the other, and was the 
 most attractive creature possible. 
 
 In person, she did not the least resemble 
 her sister. Laura was very tall, with very 
 dark eyes and hair, a fine oval face, and a 
 manner so naturally dignified, that she 
 seemed born to command. Genevieve, al- 
 though with the same cast of features, was
 
 DISPLAY. 4< 
 
 almost a blonde ; but the darkness of her 
 eyebrows and eyelashes, and the deep blue 
 of her eyes, gave a very unusual amount 
 of expression to her face ; and her manner 
 was so gentle and winning, that everybody 
 loved her directly. 
 
 It seemed impossible to have a harsh 
 thought towards a creature so kind and so 
 harmless, always on the watch for the com- 
 fort of others, and winding herself round all 
 hearts by the fascination of her manner. 
 
 In this, Genevieve strongly resembled 
 her father, who, an extremely handsome 
 man, although not in his first youth, pos- 
 sessed that nameless power of attraction 
 which few were able to resist. Those who 
 had even made up their minds to dislike 
 Mr. Malcolm, found it impossible to do so. 
 There was something about him whieh acted 
 like a charm. It might be his voice, which
 
 48 DISPLAY. 
 
 was peculiarly sweet and musical ; or it 
 might be his manner, which, though stately, 
 was perfect from its natural simplicity ; or, 
 perhaps, it was his smile, which disclosed 
 the most splendid teeth in the world. 
 
 One, or all of these gifts might have 
 made him what he was ; but it is certain 
 that he possessed the art of pleasing and 
 interesting those who were brought into 
 contact with him in a very uncommon 
 degree. 
 
 His beautiful daughters shared this feel- 
 ing with the world in general. They were 
 devoted to him — subservient to his will — 
 and seemed proud as well as fond of belonging 
 to him. Laura was his especial favourite ; 
 Genevieve was so young, he did not under- 
 stand her ; but Laura, his beautiful Laura, 
 was the idol of his heart. 
 
 She was in some respects exactly his own
 
 DISPLAY. 49 
 
 counterpart, that is to say, as worldly as 
 possible. The marriage, which, after many 
 anxieties and heart-burnings, he had so suc- 
 cessfully arranged for her, perfectly suited 
 both parties. It is true, that father and 
 daughter would have preferred a man of 
 higher rank, but, then, Sir Aubrey Manner- 
 ing had a clear, unencumbered property, and 
 that was a circumstance by no means to be 
 lost sight of. 
 
 Never was a man more proud and flat- 
 tered by the beauty of his child than was 
 Mr. Malcolm, as he handed his daughter 
 from her carriage, and led her up the aisle 
 of the church, which, of course, was filled 
 to suffocation. The beauty of Laura Mal- 
 colm could very well bear the trying ordeal 
 of full dress in daylight and a bright sun. 
 Her complexion was faultless, and the splen- 
 did pearls she wore were scarcely whiter 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 DISPLAY. 
 
 than the lovely neck and arms which they 
 adorned — a fact which was duly observed 
 and commented upon by all, and particu- 
 larly by some very old-fashioned persons in 
 the church, who had imagined the bride 
 would walk up the aisle with her veil 
 down. 
 
 Public attention and admiration were 
 not, however, so completely engrossed by 
 the beautiful Laura, as to make people for- 
 get to ask, " What sort of man was Sir 
 Aubrey Mannering ? " To many, at that 
 moment collected together, he was an utter 
 stranger, and very great was their curiosity 
 about him. 
 
 His appearance, of course, was their first 
 object, and the general opinion was, that he 
 could not look to advantage by the side of 
 Mr. Malcolm, who always threw everybody 
 into the shade. In this, however, they were
 
 DISPLAY. 51 
 
 agreeably disappointed ; for Sir Aubrey, al- 
 though far from possessing the same attrac- 
 tions as his splendid-looking father-in-law, 
 was decidedly very good looking — tall, pale, 
 and gentlemanlike, with a very courteous 
 smile, and a somewhat reserved manner. 
 He walked well, held himself very upright, 
 and seemed perfectly aware of his own con- 
 sequence. 
 
 It was true that his hair was just of that 
 tint that ill-natured people choose to call red, 
 that his lips were rather too thin, and that 
 his large blue eyes had sometimes a look of 
 coldness and contempt which was not en- 
 couraging ; but these slight defects were, 
 in the general joy, completely overlooked ; 
 and when, at the conclusion of the service, 
 he left the church, wdth his beautiful bride 
 hanging upon his arm, they were pro- 
 nounced by the gossips of the place to be 
 
 E 2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
 
 52 DISPLAY. 
 
 "the handsomest couple that had ever been 
 seen in the country." 
 
 Everybody was, however, disposed to be 
 well pleased on that day ; and, indeed, it 
 would have been very ungrateful, if they 
 had not been so, for never had more ample 
 means been afforded for the amusement of 
 the public. 
 
 The wedding-breakfast was superb. No 
 tearful eyes spoiled the brightness of the 
 many fair faces present ; the usual amount 
 of healths was drunk, and the usual num- 
 ber of speeches made, and everything went 
 off as well as possible. 
 
 Mr. Malcolm made a singularly well- 
 turned and appropriate discourse, which 
 was much applauded ; and on quitting the 
 house, and entering the large marquee, 
 already well filled with guests, his oratorical 
 powers were again called forth by the burst
 
 DISPLAY. 53 
 
 of affectionate welcome with which he was 
 received. Some people, learned in such 
 matters, thought he wandered slightly from 
 Ms subject, and dwelt a little too much on 
 morality and his true English heart and 
 feelings ; but, as the one point met with 
 an enthusiastic reception from the upper 
 classes, and the other sentiment found an 
 echo in the bosom of the multitude of true 
 Britons who were enjoying his hospitality, 
 and was welcomed, again and again, by 
 hearty cheers, Mr. Malcolm had no cause 
 to suspect he had overdone his part. Per- 
 haps, as his wife had been a Frenchwoman, 
 he thought it necessary to explain how very 
 English he was. 
 
 At all events, he was perfectly satisfied. 
 He had his own reasons for all he had said 
 and done, for Mr. Malcolm never said or 
 did anything without a reason. He was a
 
 54 DISPLAY. 
 
 great actor, and a good one ; and on this 
 occasion his talents were most naturally dis- 
 played. He walked about with a sweet, 
 bland smile upon his handsome face, seem- 
 ing only to enjoy the enjoyments of others, 
 and to have no separate wish or object. 
 There was a sort of paternal benediction in 
 his manner that old and young appeared 
 equally to cherish ; and Mr. Malcolm, al- 
 ways popular, seemed on that day to be 
 idolized. 
 
 In the due course of time, the bride and 
 bridegroom took their departure for Man- 
 nering Park, which was at some distance 
 from Camerford House. Lady Mannering, 
 from her carriage with its four splendid 
 greys and outriders, gracefully bowed her 
 adieux to the assembled guests. Not a sha- 
 dow of emotion passed over her lovely face, 
 as she drove off amidst the plaudits of the
 
 DISPLAY. 55 
 
 multitude ; and Mr. Malcolm turned with 
 renewed vivacity to do the honours of his 
 fete, satisfied beyond measure with the 
 events of the day. 
 
 Even to the most minute detail, every- 
 thing had perfectly succeeded. The bril- 
 liancy of the scene was at its height — joy 
 sparkled upon every countenance — and, as 
 the gay groups dispersed to wander over 
 the beautiful pleasure-grounds, no one had 
 leisure to perceive that poor Genevieve had 
 disappeared.
 
 56 DISPLAY. 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 Mr. Malcolm had been a widower for many 
 years. His wife, a lady of good family in 
 the south of France, had died immediately 
 after the birth of Genevieve, who was five 
 years younger than her sister. 
 
 Mr. Malcolm had never shown the sligh- 
 test disposition to marry again ; and in 
 spite of innumerable attacks from different 
 quarters, was still single. The greater 
 part of the year he lived at Camerford 
 House, his beautiful place, which, situated 
 in one of the richest southern counties of
 
 DISPLAY. 57 
 
 England, was within an easy distance of 
 London, He, however, by no means shut 
 himself up in the country, for he went re- 
 gularly to town in the season, and when at 
 home received a succession of visitors, which 
 left him very little leisure for solitude. 
 
 The world being his object, he did not 
 grudge the pains and labour he bestowed 
 upon it, and all its numerous calls and du- 
 ties were obeyed to the letter. His office 
 of chaperon had been a new occasion for 
 display, and nothing could exceed the grave 
 attention with which he discharged its oner- 
 ous functions, and ministered to the wants 
 and caprices of a daughter somewhat exact- 
 ing and fastidious. 
 
 Every luxury, every indulgence was be- 
 stowed upon her with an unsparing hand, 
 and during the two seasons of her short 
 career, Laura Malcolm had shone as a star
 
 58 DISPLAY. 
 
 of universal brilliancy, and not a little envy 
 and malice had, in consequence, followed her 
 steps. 
 
 This position at once wearying and delight- 
 ing to him, had now by her marriage with 
 Sir Aubrey Mannering been brought to a 
 close, and Mr. Malcolm found himself sud- 
 denly freed from a heavy responsibility, and 
 one which had secretly caused him more 
 anxiety than he wished to have known. 
 He had now leisure to devote himself to his 
 own concerns, and to the exclusive further- 
 ance of a project, which, next to the mar- 
 riage of his daughter, had long been a 
 cherished one. 
 
 Why he should wish to burthen himself 
 with such an accession of trouble and annoy- 
 ance was a secret best known to himself, but 
 certain it is, that to become member for his 
 own county, was now his great ambition,
 
 DISPLAY. 59 
 
 and as there were rumours of the intended 
 retirement of one of the present members, 
 from ill-health, there was little time to be 
 lost. 
 
 As is usual on such occasions, his san- 
 guine supporters insisted, that his success 
 was beyond a doubt, and the vivid recollec- 
 tion of the enthusiasm with which he had 
 been received on the occasion of the wed- 
 ding fete, tended very much to confirm this 
 impression on his own mind. Still, he re- 
 resolved to leave nothing undone that 
 might tend to advance his views, and in 
 order to fit himself for the character, 
 which he longed to assume, of " popular 
 candidate," he set immediately about divest- 
 ing himself of whatever appearance of ex- 
 clusiveness might attach to him. 
 
 Hitherto, his society had been limited 
 to one class, and no one was more par-
 
 60 DISPLAY. 
 
 ticular than Mr. Malcolm in the choice 
 or cultivation of an acquaintance ; but now, 
 with his new designs, he found he must step 
 out of his own orbit, and mix more freely 
 with all classes of men. 
 
 This was the beginning of his labours ; 
 but it must be done ; and he actually smiled 
 when he recollected how very few of the 
 persons whose suffrages he was now going to 
 solicit were even known to him by name. 
 Without hesitation he therefore accepted 
 every invitation of the many which were 
 showered upon him. All of them it would 
 be impossible to keep ; but to avoid ungra- 
 cious distinctions, he returned, the same an- 
 swer to every one, and trusted to his own 
 address for avoiding the most disagreeable, 
 and still not giving offence. 
 
 This sort of provincial tour promised him 
 very little amusement ; but popularity-hunt-
 
 DISPLAY. 61 
 
 ing had become his second nature, and now, 
 as a means to the great end it was a matter 
 of necessity. 
 
 The excitement attendant upon the wed- 
 ding had in a few days died away, and the 
 last of his guests having departed, Mr. Mal- 
 colm resolved to put some of his new plans 
 into execution. Before his departure, how- 
 ever, one important point must be decided. 
 Genevieve ! what was to become of her 
 during his absence ? She was too old to be 
 left alone at Camerford House with only 
 servants for companions ; and too young to 
 accompany him on his tour of visits — he, 
 being firmly persuaded of the judicious effect 
 produced by shutting up young ladies, who 
 were not grown up, out of sight, until the 
 proper moment for their appearance had ar- 
 rived. 
 
 His arrangements had, with regard to his
 
 62 DISPLAY. 
 
 eldest daughter, so perfectly succeeded, that 
 he resolved to follow exactly the same course 
 with the youngest ; and already, dreams of 
 the splendour to which she was destined, 
 began to flit across his brain. Since the 
 departure of Laura, Genevieve, who had 
 before been comparatively overlooked, had 
 risen to be an object of paramount interest 
 to him. He listened to her voice and 
 watched her steps as she passed before him, 
 and with feelings of exultation decided that, 
 although in a different style, she promised 
 fully to equal her sister in grace and beauty. 
 Much, . however, remained to be done. 
 There was a wildness, a vivacity, about her 
 which had not existed in Laura — an enthu- 
 siasm which might lead to ungraceful habits 
 — and Mr. Malcolm thought little of repres- 
 sing the natural freshness of heart of his 
 young daughter, provided, her manners were
 
 DISPLAY. 63 
 
 drilled down to the utmost nicety ; for his 
 fastidious eye and ear could not bear the 
 slightest imperfection. 
 
 With Laura he had never had any diffi- 
 culty : she seemed instinctively to fall into 
 his ideas. From the moment when, at 
 seventeen, he had withdrawn her from her 
 pension near Paris, where her education had 
 been completed, he had never had to criti- 
 cise or condemn the smallest of her move- 
 ments. She was grace itself; and the idea 
 of further improvement seemed to him pre- 
 posterous. 
 
 Under such able guidance, he felt that 
 Genevieve was safe, and the two sisters 
 were therefore left to each other's society, 
 without the infliction of a governess. Mas- 
 ters of all kinds were, of course, liberally 
 supplied, and both girls having a natural turn 
 for all the accomplishments so ornamental
 
 64 DISPLAY. 
 
 to female education, he had no reason to 
 complain of any want of proficiency in his 
 children. 
 
 The case was now altered. Eemoved 
 from the example of Laura, Genevieve 
 might become careless, and Mr. Malcolm 
 shuddered to think what would be his 
 sufferings, if he should be one day forced to 
 produce to the world a daughter whose 
 manners were not perfection. She might 
 stoop, take off her gloves at a wrong time, 
 dress badly, or talk too loud — any one of 
 which defects, together with a host of others 
 which his paternal care anticipated, would 
 drive him to distraction. 
 
 Decidedly, therefore, Genevieve must 
 have a governess. In a very few days, not 
 only did he come to this important decision, 
 but the person destined to fill the post was 
 actually selected. Mr. Malcolm, was one
 
 DISPLAY. 65 
 
 of those persons never at a loss for anything 
 — even if he did not want it, at that moment, 
 he took the measure of its full value, in 
 case an hour ever should arrive when it 
 might be useful. 
 
 This habit of forethought and vigilance 
 had often served him at need, and in this 
 instance it saved him a world of trouble. 
 Out of the many all-accomplished ladies, 
 who had been unhesitatingly recommended 
 to him by his particular friends, as eligible 
 companions for his daughter, he im- 
 mediately selected one who, he imagined 
 would fully answer his purpose. She had 
 long held the same position in a family of 
 his acquaintance, and in committing his 
 daughter to her charge, he felt he need be 
 under no further anxiety for the formation 
 of her manners. — He immediately wrote to 
 the lady in question, received a favourable 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 DISPLAY. 
 
 reply to his offers of emolument, and every- 
 thing was finally arranged, without Gene- 
 vieve having the slightest idea of the penance 
 about to be inflicted upon her. 
 
 The days, however, wore on, and on that 
 preceding the arrival of the new governess, 
 it became necessary to inform her of the 
 fact. For the first time in his life, when 
 about to issue his orders to his children, 
 Mr. Malcolm hesitated. He felt, although 
 without quite acknowledging it to himself, 
 that he was dealing a heavy blow, where it 
 was least expected. He might, it is true, 
 have prepared the mind of Genevieve, for 
 the idea of the surveillance to which she 
 was in future to be subjected, but that was. 
 contrary to his habits. Very absolute in the 
 management of his family, he never either 
 asked advice, or altered a resolution, and it 
 was therefore, with a sensation of surprise,
 
 DISPLAY. 67 
 
 that he confessed to himself, the unusual 
 reluctance he felt in communicating his 
 instructions to his child. 
 
 Time, however, did not admit of delay, 
 and soon after breakfast, on the day in ques- 
 tion, Mr. Malcolm, retiring to his library, 
 rang the bell and desired Genevieve to be 
 sent to him. In a few moments she ap- 
 peared. Hastily summoned, she had flown 
 to obey her father's commands, and had not 
 given a thought to her appearance. Her 
 hair was out of curl, her muslin gown crum- 
 pled, and on her hands she wore a large 
 pair of loose gloves, which gave evident 
 signs of her having been grubbing in the earth. 
 
 A look of disgust overspread the fine fea- 
 tures of Mr. Malcolm. She could not have 
 chosen a worse moment for such a display 
 of rustic pursuits — he felt all his scruples 
 vanish in a moment. 
 
 F 2
 
 68 DISPLAY. 
 
 "Genevieve," he said coldly, almost 
 sternly, "what have you been doing?" 
 
 " Only digging in the conservatory, 
 Papa," replied Genevieve, with the utmost 
 simplicity. 
 
 " Digging in the conservatory ! And 
 were there no gardeners to do such work?" 
 asked Mr. Malcolm, in a tone of surprise. 
 
 "Oh, yes, Papa," answered Genevieve. 
 " There were two men besides Davidson, 
 there, but they were all settling the gera- 
 niums." 
 
 " And since when, may I ask, have you 
 condescended to share their labours." 
 
 " Only lately, Papa — only a few days," 
 said Genevieve, hesitatingly, as if oppressed 
 by some disagreeable recollection; and then 
 added, as if she thought some explanation 
 necessary — u only since Laura went away." 
 
 "Ah! I thought so," replied Mr. Mai-
 
 DISPLAY. 69 
 
 colm, quickly. "Poor dear Laura! — She 
 never would have dreamt of doing such 
 work ! She never would have had such 
 hands." 
 
 And, with a gesture of annoyance, he 
 pointed to the great dirty gloves, adding, 
 as the recollection of the slender rose-tip- 
 ped fingers of his absent daughter arose 
 in judgment against poor Genevieve — "a 
 pretty state, truly, they will be in, for play- 
 ing on the harp." 
 
 " They are dirty, Papa, indeed," said 
 Genevieve, timidly; "and I am sorry I did 
 not stop to take off my gloves before I 
 came into your room ; but I could not help 
 it — they were Laura's flowers — her flowers 
 — and I could not bear any one to touch 
 them. When I saw Davidson, with his great 
 spade, digging near them, it seemed as if 
 they were hurting her things — her favourite
 
 70 DISPLAY. 
 
 things, and I begged of him to leave them 
 to me. I would take such care of them !" 
 she added, in a lower tone. 
 
 "Yes," replied Mr. Malcolm, somewhat 
 softened by these words, " and it is very 
 kind and grateful in you to remember your 
 dear sister's things: but I cannot have you, 
 for that or any other reason, neglect your- 
 self. You are no longer a child, Genevieve 
 — you will be fifteen next month, and it is 
 high time you should attend to your per- 
 sonal appearance. It is of the greatest pos- 
 sible importance to a woman. If you run 
 abtfut in the sun without your bonnet, and 
 work with your hands till they are as large 
 and red as a kitchenmaid's, how can you 
 expect ever to make such a match as your 
 sister has made ?" 
 
 Poor Genevieve looked so totally uninter- 
 ested by this prospective danger, that it evi-
 
 DISPLAY. 71 
 
 vidently had very little effect ; but she held 
 up her little white hand, and seeing that 
 there were not, as she feared, any specks of 
 earth upon it, she laid the offending gloves 
 upon the chair and drawing a very tolerably 
 clean pair of grey kid from the pocket of her 
 black silk apron, she deliberately put them 
 on, saying as she did so — 
 
 " Yes, Papa, of course, anything you like 
 I will do." 
 
 This submissive tone augured well for the 
 communication he was about to make ; but 
 still, Mr. Malcolm did not feel quite comfort- 
 able about it. He could easily enter int(*the 
 feelings of a young girl who had always en- 
 joyed an undue proportion of liberty, being 
 suddenly placed under control. He, how- 
 ever, assumed a very well satisfied air, and, 
 leaning back carelessly in his chair, began 
 to cut the leaves of a new book with an
 
 72 DISPLAY. 
 
 ivory paper-knife, which had been lying on 
 the small table close to him — 
 
 " Yes, my child/ 7 he resumed, as if in an- 
 swer to the last observation of Genevieve, 
 "I am quite sure of it. I have never, 
 thank God ! had to complain of any want 
 of duty or affection in either of my chil- 
 dren ; but you see, I cannot always exactly 
 attend to all these things as I could wish. 
 Now, that I have lost poor Laura, I have no 
 one to help me." 
 
 "I am sure, Papa, anything I can do r 
 shall be most gladly done," said Genevieve, 
 affectionately. "I know I cannot supply 
 Laura's place— nobody could do that," she 
 added in a trembling voice ; " but I should 
 be glad to be of use — so glad to help you y 
 Papa." 
 
 And she drew nearer and nearer, as she 
 spoke, and looked wistfully up in her father's
 
 DISPLAY. 73 
 
 face — There were tears glistening in her 
 dark blue eyes, and she longed to throw her 
 arms round his neck ; but she did not dare. 
 
 Mr. Malcolm gave no encouragement by 
 his manner to any outpourings of the heart. 
 He hated scenes, and anxiously repressed 
 all outward symptoms of sensibility. He 
 was fraid that Genevieve was going 
 to cry, and, rising hastily from his 
 chair, took two or three turns up and down 
 the room, then stopping opposite the look- 
 ing-glass," ran his fingers carelessly through 
 his clustering black hair, and went 
 on — 
 
 " Ah, yes ! poor dear Laura — her loss is 
 really dreadful — but we shall see her soon, 
 I hope — I have promised to go to Manner- 
 ing Park at Christmas — But I have no end 
 of things to do before that — tribes of people 
 to visit, and troubles of all sorts about this
 
 74 DISPLAY 
 
 county business. I shall not be at home 
 at all, all this autumn." 
 
 " Am I to go with you, Papa ?" said 
 Genevieve, timidly, for it was the first time 
 she had heard a word of Mr. Malcolm's 
 going away. 
 
 a No, my love — certainly not!" he in- 
 stantly replied ; u I cannot have you pay 
 any visits, or be seen any more, until you 
 come out. But, that you may not be dull 
 here, all alone, I have got some one to help 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, Papa ! " said Genevieve, quickly, 
 " do not ask any one for me — I want no- 
 thing at all. Mrs. Leigh and Mary will 
 get me everything, and I can do all my 
 lessons by myself— just as I used to do 
 with Laura. Papa, cannot you trust me ? 
 you said I had ceased to be quite a 
 child."
 
 DISPLAY. 75 
 
 And the voice of Genevieve died away in 
 a slight tone of reproach. 
 
 "It is for that very reason, my dear 
 child," said Mr. Malcolm, with more kind- 
 ness in his manner than he had yet shown ; 
 " you are too old to be left with ser- 
 vants. Mrs. Leigh is an excellent woman, 
 but she is not fit for your companion. 
 I desire your education to be as perfect as 
 art can make it, and I have therefore en- 
 gaged a person to superintend it, of whom 
 I have the highest opinion." 
 
 "A governess?" inquired Genevieve, 
 looking aghast at this unexpected dis- 
 closure. 
 
 " Yes. And I hope she will be pleased 
 with you, Genevieve, and remain with you 
 until you come out." 
 
 The prospect of the two years before her, 
 was anything but pleasing to poor Gene-
 
 76 DISPLAY. 
 
 vieve — but upon that point she said no- 
 thing. In a few moments she ventured to 
 inquire — 
 
 " Is she English or French, Papa ?" 
 " French, of course— Madame Tomasset 
 is the person that I have selected. She 
 has been several years with Lady Norcliffe, 
 and is, without any exception, the most 
 lady-like, well-mannered governess I ever 
 saw. Lady Norcliffe's daughters are charm- 
 ing, and they have been totally left to her 
 charge. I don't know anything more per- 
 fect than their manner to their mother's 
 guests, whenever they are called upon to 
 assist her in her reception of company." 
 
 " Papa," said Genevieve, who, instead of 
 duly profiting by this panegyric on Madame 
 Tomasset and her former pupils, had al- 
 lowed her thoughts to wander far away — 
 " if I am to have a French Governess, why
 
 DISPLAY. 77 
 
 not send for Sister Angelique from the con- 
 vent ? I am sure she would come — and 
 you have often said her manners were per- 
 fect. She was so kind to us both — and so 
 fond of Laura. I should like to have some 
 one that knew Laura — I am sure I should 
 be very happy with Sister Angelique — I 
 should not plague her now, as I used to do 
 when I was a child. Papa, will you think 
 about it ?" 
 
 " I have thought about it. She was the 
 first person I did think of," said Mr. Mal- 
 colm kindly. a But there is an objection — 
 an insuperable objection : Sister Angelique 
 is a Eoman Catholic;" and Mr. Malcolm 
 looked disturbed, for at his forthcoming 
 election the u No Popery ! " cry sounded by 
 anticipation in his ears. 
 
 " But, indeed, she never interfered with 
 us," remonstrated Genevieve, in a suppli-
 
 78 DISPLAY. 
 
 eating tone. " At the pension we had our 
 own church, and our own clergyman, just 
 the same as here. No one ever tried to 
 convert us, or talked to us about religion at 
 all ; and particularly Sister Angelique, who 
 had so much to do. I am sure she would 
 be just the same here." 
 
 " It is quite impossible, Genevieve," said 
 her father decidedly. " Madame Tomasset, 
 besides her other qualifications, is a strict 
 Protestant. You would not wish to injure 
 me, dear child," he continued, in his blandest 
 tone. " And when you are the county 
 member's daughter — which I hope will very 
 soon be — you might do so, were it known 
 by the lower orders that you were in close 
 connection with a Catholic — a sort of nun, 
 too. They would take it up directly, and 
 might give me a great deal of trouble. It 
 is not my own objection that I urge, for I
 
 DISPLAY. 79 
 
 have no prejudices ; but some people are 
 very particular upon this point : you under- 
 stand, Genevieve ?" 
 
 "'Perfectly, papa/' answered she, some- 
 what flattered, that anything she could do 
 could be of use to the political views of her 
 father. " I will try and do every thing you 
 wish." 
 
 " Then, you will receive your new gover- 
 ness graciously, and not make her uncom- 
 fortable at first starting. Recollect, that all 
 these arrangements are very troublesome to 
 me, and, once made, I expect they will not 
 be disturbed." 
 
 " No, papa — certainly not ; I will do all 
 I can. But " 
 
 "But what?" suggested Mr. Malcolm, 
 somewhat impatiently, and sitting down 
 again to his book. 
 
 " She will always be here," answered Ge-
 
 80 DISPLAY. 
 
 nevieve with a sob, " and prevent us loving 
 each other ;" and overcome by the unwel- 
 come idea, and the sudden fading away of 
 brighter visions, she laid her head upon the 
 shoulder of her father, and burst into tears. 
 
 " Nonsense, nonsense, child," said Mr. 
 Malcolm, getting up from his chair abruptly, 
 and not displeased at the termination of an 
 interview he had somewhat dreaded. " Who 
 should prevent our loving each other ?" 
 
 And with an affection he had not yet dis- 
 played, he drew his daughter towards him, 
 and pressed his lips to her burning cheek. 
 
 " There, now, be a good girl, Genevieve, 
 and go out and take a walk. I have no 
 time to talk more, for I have letters to write. 
 Now do go out ; for you are making your 
 eyes quite red. I shall be sorry if you 
 don't look your best at dinner — several 
 people dine here — and there isn't much
 
 DISPLAY. 81 
 
 time. 1 forgot to say," he added, care- 
 lessly turning to the writing-table, " Ma- 
 dame Tomasset comes to-morrow,*" 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 82 DISPLAY. 
 
 CHAPTEK V. 
 
 And duly the next morning, Madame Tom- 
 asset arrived. She was, as Mr. Malcolm 
 had described her, a perfectly lady-like wo- 
 man, faultless in manner and address, and 
 possessed of all those graceful little attrac- 
 tions of civility and apparent good nature, 
 which seem innate in so many of her coun- 
 trywomen. To a stranger it would have 
 appeared impossible to dislike her. To Ge- 
 nevieve, too deeply interested to take a cur- 
 sory view of the matter, a far different im- 
 pression was conveyed.
 
 DISPLAY. 83 
 
 " I shall never like her," was the abrupt 
 decision which she whispered to herself, as 
 she retired to her room, on the evening of 
 the eventful day which had thus so unex- 
 pectedly brought her far from welcome 
 guest. It was rather soon to come to such 
 a positive conclusion; but Genvieve had 
 keen feelings, and it hurt her to see the 
 place of one she loved almost to adoration, 
 so instantly supplied by a total stranger. 
 She forgot how much of truth there was in 
 the. words of her father, " that now Laura 
 was gone, he had no one to help him." 
 Young and thoughtless, she had not calcu- 
 lated the various difficulties and inconve 
 niences the charge of a half grown-up girl, 
 like her, might entail upon a man in his 
 position. 
 
 She had dreamed a bright dream — a 
 dream of being all-in-all to her father — of 
 
 9 2
 
 8 I DISPLAY. 
 
 tending him, of cheering him, and laying at 
 his feet all that boundless stock of devotion 
 which her warm heart longed to offer. 
 That heart had been sorely wounded. De- 
 prived of her sister, she had mourned with 
 exceeding grief, and to her father's bosom 
 she had turned for comfort and support. 
 These had been denied to her. The world 
 had interposed its cold laws — its fictitious 
 wants, between her and a parent's heart, 
 and she had been given over to a stranger. 
 
 This was the reading which Genevieve 
 gave to the affair. Her sweet dream of 
 bliss had vanished. How could she then 
 love the destroyer of her hopes ? She might 
 obey ; but to love was not possible. Her 
 little rebellious heart had already pronounced 
 the decree, and the more she reflected on 
 it, the more she persuaded herself of the 
 soundness of her doctrine.
 
 DISPLAY. 85 
 
 She did not blame her father : she was too 
 dutiful to do that, even in thought ; but she 
 felt estranged from him — worst of all, she 
 felt as if he did not love her. She was 
 wrong there, for Mr. Malcolm did love her, 
 nearly as well as he was capable of loving 
 any one in the world ; but the impression 
 was a bad one, and likely to produce a 
 blighting effect upon a nature like hers. It 
 shut up in her heart its tenderest emotions, 
 and induced habits of reserve which might 
 easily degenerate into insincerity. 
 
 With no one to love, she had no one in 
 whom she wished to confide, and many a 
 thought was thus buried in her own breast, 
 which maturer advice, or a more enlight- 
 ened mind might have enlarged, or directed 
 to a higher object. Her mind was therefore 
 pretty nearly left to itself, and her new pre- 
 ceptress seeing how little real confidence
 
 86 DISPLAY. 
 
 her pupil reposed in her, contented herself 
 with fulfilling merely those duties which, 
 strange to say, had been the only ones spe- 
 cially dwelt upon in her engagement, by the 
 father of Genevieve. 
 
 Madame Tomasset was a perfect martinet 
 as far as education was concerned. Nothing, 
 in her eyes, could atone for half-an-hour's 
 neglect of any of the various accomplish- 
 ments she deemed so necessary to the well- 
 fare of the young ladies under her charge. 
 She was one of those " ladies accustomed to 
 tuition" whose whole soul is divided between 
 copy-books and practising ; and though too 
 well bred to worry about it, the plans she, 
 immediately upon her arrival, laid down for 
 the daily routine of business, conveyed to 
 Genevieve the very agreeable impression 
 that, so long as her new governess re- 
 mained in the house, her own life would
 
 DISPLAY. 87 
 
 be little different from that of a school- 
 girl 
 
 This was a terrible blow to the romantic 
 view she had endeavoured in her mind to 
 give to the circumstances of her first sepa- 
 ration from Laura. A dull reality was sub- 
 stituted for it. Instead of the long hours 
 being passed in writing interminable letters 
 to that beloved sister — in tending her flowers, 
 or in the more active occupation of devoting 
 herself to her father — following his steps, 
 and sharing his every joy and sorrow — Ge- 
 nevieve found herself once more immured 
 in a school-room, with little or no time to 
 herself, except that which was set apart for 
 the daily walk or ride. 
 
 Even in these, Madame Tomasset always 
 accompanied her. One of her most bounden 
 duties, she declared, was never to lose sight 
 o! her charge ; and in this, perhaps, she was 
 
 .
 
 88 DISPLAY. 
 
 not particularly to blame, although she 
 might have exercised her watchfulness in a 
 manner a little less irksome to the feelings 
 of her pupil. 
 
 Genevieve, however, would not complain. 
 She had promised her father that she would 
 do everything she could to please him ; and 
 his parting injunction to her had been, " to 
 do exactly what Madame Tomasset de- 
 sired." 
 
 So Genevieve toiled and studied, as 
 though her very existence depended upon her 
 labours ; and with the one hope held out to 
 her as an incentive, "that Mr. Malcolm 
 would find her excessively improved upon 
 his return," she was forced Jo be contented. 
 
 There was one person, however, within 
 the walls of Camerford House who was not 
 quite so passive under the iron rule of the 
 new governess. Poor Mrs. Leigh took it
 
 DISPLAY. 89 
 
 dreadfully to heart. She had watched over 
 Genevieve from her birth, and looked upon 
 her almost as her especial property. All 
 her little moments of pleasure were now at 
 an end. There were no passing visits to 
 the store-room, or comfortable cups of tea 
 in the old nursery, when Genevieve came in 
 tired from her ride. The stately Madame 
 Tomasset knew too well how to keep her 
 place ; and Mrs. Leigh was banished back 
 to her housekeeper's room — she soon having 
 ascertained that her wanderings elsewhere 
 were not acceptable. 
 
 "Well, to be sure!" she would say to 
 herself, as preparing to go her rounds of an 
 evening, she adjusted her everlasting red 
 shawl ; "if there isn't that poor darling 
 child a-playing on the harp at this hour of 
 the night — shut up like any bird in a cage ; 
 she that used to be in and out like a bee on
 
 90 DISPLAY. 
 
 a summer's day ! Well, I suppose it's all 
 right ; but / never saw no good come of 
 their % fine French education. Thank God 
 I'm English — true English — and never had 
 no fine Frenchwoman to teach me manners. 
 Well-a-day ! here's a change to be sure. 
 Who'd have thought of all this coming of 
 Miss Laura's grand marriage ! "
 
 DISPLAY. 91 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 While his gentle daughter was thus under- 
 going a species of refined martyrdom at 
 home, Mr. Malcolm was actively engaged 
 in the furtherance of his new scheme, and 
 in a short time had made considerable pro- 
 gress in his canvass of the county. 
 
 He, as yet, could form no very decided 
 opinion as to his ultimate chance of success, 
 for he was a man too calculating and re- 
 flecting to be led away by the flowery pro- 
 testations of some few adherents and inti- 
 mate friends, who would not allow a doubt
 
 92 DISPLAY. 
 
 to be entertained. Mr. Malcolm smiled and 
 listened, but he had a great many doubts. 
 In his own mind he felt convinced, that he 
 had started on the wrong side. Liberal 
 opinions were decidedly the order of the 
 day, and he had announced himself as a 
 Conservative. 
 
 Now, he cared very little which side he 
 took, for he had no principles, and took no 
 real interest in political affairs. But he 
 had friends — influential friends — in the 
 party to which he had attached himself, 
 and he had also hopes and expectations — 
 although to no mortal ear had they been 
 confided. 
 
 It would have been madness, just then, 
 to have taken the popular side. His mania, 
 too, was to be supposed to belong to that 
 class with which he so exclusively asso- 
 ciated ; and, by adopting the exact tenets
 
 DISPLAY. 93 
 
 id his friends, he hoped to be identified 
 with them. 
 
 In this, he was eminently successful. He 
 had lived so long with a certain set of peo- 
 ple, that no one thought of asking from 
 whence he had originally come. And yet, 
 if any one had asked the question, no one 
 could have conscientiously answered it, for 
 no one exactly knew the truth. 
 
 He had bought the beautiful estate, and 
 Camerford House, many years before, and 
 had immediately taken possession of it. It 
 was then announced to the curious, that he 
 was a young man very well connected, and 
 of Scottish descent, who had extensive pro- 
 perty in some one of the Colonies. This 
 vague account was pretty nearly all that 
 was ever known of his affairs ; and, as there 
 were few persons whom it concerned nearly 
 enough, to make it worth their while to dive
 
 94 DISPLAY. 
 
 into secret histories which might in the end 
 prove very uninteresting, thus the matter 
 was suffered to remain. 
 
 It might, however, have afforded food for 
 conjecture, had any one ^been sufficiently 
 observant to note the total absence of rela- 
 tions amongst the troops of friends and ac- 
 quaintances which the gay and hospitable 
 owner of Camerford House always contrived 
 to gather around him. In spite of his high- 
 sounding name, not one of the noble houses 
 with whom he might have been supposed to 
 claim kindred, ever hailed him as their own 
 — no, not even one Scotch cousin ever made 
 his appearance within his walls. 
 
 He seemed actually to have dropped from 
 the clouds. Some few foreigners — connec- 
 tions of his wife — had, from time to time, 
 shown themselves ; but, since her death, 
 their visits had almost entirely ceased — and
 
 DISPLAY. 95 
 
 Mr. Malcolm was left to enjoy his tran- 
 quility undisturbed. 
 
 It was not until his name was so loudly 
 proclaimed all over the county, as aspiring 
 to become their representative in Parlia- 
 ment, that people thought of asking any 
 questions about him. Had he been con- 
 tented to remain quiet, he might have gone 
 down to his grave as the much-honoured 
 Edward Malcolm, of Camerford House ; 
 but, the moment he pretended to a position 
 which might have the effect of placing him 
 above them, the busy and the envious were 
 not wanting in endeavours to point out to 
 the more unsophisticated part of the com- 
 munity, how little standing their new can- 
 didate possessed in the county, compared 
 with a great many other people. 
 
 Their observations did not fail in due 
 course of time to reach the ear of him who
 
 96 DISPLAY. 
 
 was the object of them; bat the kindly spirit 
 in which they were made, seemed to have 
 very little effect upon him. He pursued 
 the even tenour of his way without mani- 
 festing the slightest discomposure ; and, in 
 his endeavour to make himself agreeable, so 
 well succeeded, that most people forgot to 
 ask questions, and did not even remember 
 what they had heard. 
 
 As soon as it was announced that he in- 
 tended to visit every one in the county, a 
 host of new acquaintances had received him 
 with open arms. He hunted with the gen- 
 tlemen, drove out with the elder ladies, and 
 danced with the younger ones, and had no 
 reason to complain that popularity was diffi- 
 cult to obtain. The round of visits to which 
 he had devoted his autumn, was, however, 
 drawing to a close; and, sated with flattery 
 and attentions, Mr. Malcolm was not sorrv
 
 DISPLAY. 97 
 
 to take refuge once more within his own 
 immediate circle, and escape from the some- 
 what wearying life his newly-formed aspira- 
 tions had forced him to lead. 
 
 Christmas was near, and he had promised 
 to spend it at Mannering Park — a promise, 
 to the fulfilment of which, he looked for 
 ward with no little degree of pleasure. He 
 was, however, not the only person by whom 
 the arrival of Christmas was anticipated 
 with unfeigned delight. The young heart 
 of Genevieve seemed to count the moments 
 by its pulsations. No school-boy ever 
 watched for the happy day when the holi- 
 days were to commence, with more intense 
 anxiety than did the poor girl, who saw in 
 the promised visit to her sister, her only 
 chance of escaping for a short time from the 
 thraldom in which she was held. 
 
 But even this very natural feeling was 
 vol. I. H
 
 98 DISPLAY. 
 
 weak, when compared to the fullness of the 
 joy which filled her heart, at the prospect 
 of being once again with Laura. Her affec- 
 tionate nature, pent up within the narrow 
 limits of conventional propriety, longed for 
 that free and unrestrained interchange of 
 thought and feeling which latterly had been 
 denied to her ; and she looked forward to 
 many happy hours, and confidential conver- 
 sations, when they would be again all in all 
 to each other, and every secret of her mind 
 should be laid bare to that beloved sister, 
 to whom she looked up with the fondness 
 and reverence of a child. 
 
 The much longed-for day. at length ar- 
 rived, and Genevieve, bidding adieu to her 
 governess, who on her side was also going 
 to pay a visit to some friends, took her seat 
 in the carriage which was to convey her and 
 Mr. Malcolm to Mannering Park. It was a
 
 DISPLAY. 99 
 
 tiresome day's journey, but she did not 
 think of the fatigue, and when at last the 
 long-wished-for gates appeared in view, and 
 the carriage swept up the magnificent old 
 avenue that led to the house, her heart beat 
 almost audibly, so great was her emotion. 
 
 Everything she saw appeared to her most 
 beautiful, nor was she very wrong in the 
 rapid decision to which she came, upon the 
 first view of Mannering Park. It was a 
 fine old-fashioned place, a little formal, but 
 this fault was redeemed by the splendid 
 woods, and some fine, rising ground in the 
 distance. The house — a gothic building — 
 was large, with beautiful pleasure-grounds 
 laid out all round it, and extending to a 
 lake, of which very pretty glimpses were 
 obtained by the judicious opening of the 
 woods. 
 
 It had the air of a place well taken care 
 
 H 2
 
 100 DISPLAY. 
 
 of, and belonging to a rich man, and this 
 was exactly the impression which the first 
 view of it conveyed to the practised eye of 
 Mr. Malcolm, as he drove through the park. 
 A smile of self-complaceney lighted up his 
 handsome face, for the marriage had been 
 one of his favourite schemes, and he was 
 always excessively proud of his own suc- 
 cess. 
 
 It was almost the dinner hour when they 
 reached the house. Lady Mannering, with 
 affectionate solicitude, hurried into the hall 
 to receive her father aud sister, but Sir 
 Aubrey had not yet returned from hunting. 
 They had, therefore, a short, time to them- 
 selves, to the great delight of Genevieve, 
 for there were already several people stay- 
 ing in the house, and other guests were 
 expected. 
 
 Those who formed the familv circle con-
 
 DISPLAY. 101 
 
 sisted of Mrs. Pringle, who was aunt to Sir 
 Aubrey Mannering, Doctor Radcliffe, his 
 chaplain, with Lord Eardley and Mr. Del- 
 maine — two gentlemen devoted to the chase, 
 and his constant companions. 
 
 In due time, the fox-hunters returned 
 from their day's sport, dinner was soon after 
 announced, and then Mr. Malcolm had leisure 
 to look around him, and examine everything 
 and every person that came within his 
 reach. He was perfectly satisfied with his 
 survey — everything betokened both care 
 and riches ; the room in which they sat was 
 splendid — the servants were numerous, and 
 well appointed, and the side-board groaned 
 under the weight of its old and massive 
 plate. 
 
 It was the first time Mr, Malcolm had ever 
 been at Mannering Park, but he was not- 
 long in deciding that it fully equalled his
 
 102 DISPLAY. 
 
 expectations, and he congratulated himself 
 more and more upon his own address in 
 bringing about a marriage, which placed 
 his favourite daughter, as he imagined, in 
 so enviable a position. 
 
 Laura he thought was looking more 
 beautiful than ever. The excitement of 
 receiving her father and sister in her new 
 nouse gave an additional glow to her 
 beauty, and she seemed never to weary 
 of displaying to their admiring eyes, the 
 many treasures of which she had become 
 possessed. 
 
 Sir Aubrey Mannering, had certainly not 
 been niggardly in his wedding gifts, but he 
 was a man fully as fond of display as Mr. 
 Malcolm himself; and as his wife was a 
 very prominent part of that display, he 
 chose that she should always appear with 
 becoming splendour. It might have been
 
 DISPLAY. 1 03 
 
 wished, or perhaps expected, that in thus 
 extolling the gifts, more praise or tenderness 
 should have been extended to the donor, but 
 except in very general terms, Laura never 
 spoke of her husband. 
 
 Did this betoken too much affection or 
 too little ? This was a problem which 
 after days were to solve. At the present 
 moment nothing could be more delightful, 
 than the total absence of all sentimentality 
 from the manner, and it appeared from the 
 thoughts of the young wife. Her spirits 
 were unfailing, and her self-possession 
 remarkable. She seemed so completely 
 accustomed to her position that no one 
 would have imagined it was new to her. 
 
 Sir Aubrey too, betrayed but very few of 
 those lover-like attentions which might have 
 have been expected so soon after Ins 
 marriage. He had apparently already
 
 104 DISPLAY. 
 
 settled down to all his former habits and 
 pursuits. Three o^ four days of the week 
 were exclusively devoted to hunting. He 
 returned late, and after dinner, went directly 
 to sleep. The remaining days being gen- 
 erally occupied by shooting, or magisterial 
 business, he had very few moments of 
 leisure, and even if he had been able to 
 command his own time, he was not a man 
 much inclined to waste any of it in at- 
 tending on his wife. 
 
 Laura had therefore, very soon made 
 the discovery, that if apparently more in- 
 dependent, her life had become one of 
 much more solitude than when living in 
 her father's house. However mortifying 
 such a discovery might have been to most 
 women, it did not appear to have produced 
 the same effect upon her, for the conduct 
 of her husband was regarded with total
 
 DISPLAY. 105 
 
 indifference, and in the contemplation of 
 her magnificent possessions, and anticipa- 
 tions of London gaiety, she found ample 
 solace for the dull hours of her country 
 life. 
 
 Of household cares, she thought very 
 little. She had found all things as they 
 were, and had hitherto not had any par- 
 ticular reason for wishing to disturb 
 them. 
 
 It cannot, however, be supposed, that 
 the great precision and order which were 
 evident in all the arrangements of Man- 
 nering Park, were the result of accident. 
 With every appearance of carelessness and 
 expensive habits, no one was more intensely 
 stingy than the rich Sir Aubrey Mannering. 
 Persuaded that his own consequence de- 
 pended much upon outward show, a certain 
 expenditure was permitted, but all was
 
 106 DISPLAY. 
 
 calculated to a nicety, and beyond the line 
 which he had laid down for himself and his 
 household, nothing could tempt him to 
 pass. 
 
 As a principle, this certainly could not be 
 condemned ; but, in carrying out the de- 
 tails, the narrowness of his mind often 
 became painfully apparent. There was no 
 littleness to which he would not condescend, 
 in order, as he called it, " to save unneces- 
 sary expense." He, who spent thousands 
 upon his hunters, would ride a mile round 
 to avoid paying the turnpike. He would 
 refrain from answering a letter to save the 
 penny- stamp, and put out all. the candles, 
 except one, that he might economise his 
 wax-lights. 
 
 These, with many other peculiarities of 
 the same nature, told of the spirit within, 
 and the undisguised contempt with which
 
 DISPLAY. 107 
 
 they were treated by Lady Mannering, had 
 been already the cause of serious annoyance 
 to him. He was not, however, sole author 
 of the many small devices, which, intro- 
 duced into a splendid household, look like 
 small patches of rag upon a costly 
 cloth. 
 
 During the days of his bachelor life, he 
 had, partly from indolence, and partly from 
 avaricious motives, yielded himself up to 
 other guidance than his own. Aware, that 
 with his habits, his house was very likely to 
 run into disorder, he had sought help where 
 it was to be found. The vigilance of a 
 strict and active housekeeper would have 
 been the natural resource to which an ordi- 
 nary genius would have turned ; but the 
 thrifty mind of Sir Aubrey meditated no* 
 such useless extravagance. A poor rela- 
 tion would do much better ; there would be
 
 108 DISPLAY. 
 
 no wages to pay, and the pilferings could 
 not go on with their usual facility. 
 
 Sir Aubrey, full of his new idea, immedi- 
 ately counted up the members of his family, 
 amongst whom he was likely to find the co- 
 adjutor he sought. He was not long in dis- 
 covering that he, in common with most 
 other people, had many relations and con- 
 nections to whom a little countenance and 
 support from their rich and prosperous kins- 
 man, would be of very substantial benefit. 
 
 To all, however, of these, there appeared 
 some insuperable objection. One was too 
 young, another too old ; the next, too pretty, 
 and the following one too . vulgar. — Sir 
 Aubrey began to despair— It was not so 
 easy in a moment to find a fitting person 
 to place at the head of a bachelor's esta- 
 blishment. 
 
 At length, his good fortune favoured
 
 DISPLAY. 1 09 
 
 him, and, as if to relieve him from his 
 embarrassments, a widowed aunt sud- 
 denly returned from India, where she had 
 accompanied a starving husband and chil- 
 dren in the hope of improving her position. 
 Her expectations, howeA T er, had not been 
 fulfilled : her husband, after some years of 
 toil and anxiety, had just obtained a trifling 
 legal appointment, when he was carried off 
 by a fever, and Mrs. Pringle returned to 
 vegetate in one of the suburbs of London, 
 upon the interest of four thousand pounds, 
 which had been her own fortune, and which 
 was settled upon her and her children. 
 
 This was not much, with a family of five 
 sons to support ; and, on her arrival in Eng- 
 land, nothing was more natural than that 
 she should make an appeal to the generosity 
 of her rich nephew, and lay before him the 
 circumstances of her position.
 
 110 DISPLAY. 
 
 Sir Aubrey received her letter, exactly as 
 — in despair of finding any one to carry out 
 his economical views — he was on the point 
 of leaving town, to betake himself to his 
 splendid, but extravagant abode of Manner- 
 ing Park. The communication filled him 
 with delight. He felt as though a guardian 
 angel had been sent to his succour. Im- 
 mediately ordering his horse, he cantered 
 off to find, as best he might, No. 15, New 
 North Row, Avenue Eoad, Islington. 
 
 The direction was puzzling, but, by the 
 help of policemen, omnibus drivers, and 
 bakers' boys, he at length discovered the 
 street — or rather lane — where dwelt the 
 future protectress of his property. It was 
 just the abode of a poor relation, and a 
 very poor one — a small house, in a small 
 row, with a small square of damp earth 
 walled in, in front, and a bright green gate
 
 DISPLAY. Ill 
 
 opening on the road. Of course, there was 
 no bell ; so Sir Aubrey, giving his horse to 
 his servant, walked into the house, the door 
 of which stood ajar. 
 
 The scuffling of inany feet announced the 
 flight of the children, who naturally were not 
 1 fit to be seen ;' and Sir Aubrey, taking pos- 
 session of the deserted room, awaited, with 
 what patience he could command, the arrival 
 of the mistress of the house, who, he doubted 
 not, had been duly warned of his approach. 
 He sat down in the little front parlour, 
 filled with dust and flies disporting them- 
 selves in the rays of an unchecked July sun. 
 He had full time to admire the red and 
 white-striped paper on the wall, and the 
 two feet of black-looking glass pinned up 
 in yellow muslin, which ornamented the 
 chimney-piece ; but, after a very tedious 
 quarter of an hour, Mrs. Pringle made her
 
 112 DISPLAY. 
 
 appearance — a tall, gaunt-looking woman, 
 in rusty black, with black eyes, pinched lips, 
 and somewhat hollow cheeks. 
 
 Poor woman ! she had been handsome 
 in her youth. It may be imagined with 
 what unfeigned joy she listened to the most 
 unexpected proposal of her fine' nephew — 
 "That she should send the children to 
 school, and come and live with him, and 
 take care of his house." 
 
 She could scarcely believe in her 
 senses ; but Sir Aubrey, who, when his own 
 interest was at stake, could be prompt and 
 energetic enough, very soon convinced her 
 of the reality of his intentions ; and in a 
 few days every preparation was complete, 
 and Mrs. Pringle duly installed in her new 
 office at Manner ing Park. 
 
 From that hour she had not relinquished 
 her post; and Sir Aubrey, fully satisfied
 
 DISPLAY. 113 
 
 that by her habits of penury she was well 
 fitted to carry out his views, resigned the 
 chief management of the affairs of his 
 household into her hands, only stipulating 
 that, in appearance, everything should con- 
 tinue in its accustomed way. 
 
 This state of affairs had lasted for many 
 years, when the rumour of Sir Aubrey's 
 matrimonial intentions threw Mrs. Pringle 
 into the most violent state of agitation. In 
 vain she strained to the utmost all her most 
 diplomatic powers, and called to her aid 
 every stratagem she could think of, in order 
 to wean the mind of her nephew from the 
 fatal idea of which it had become possessed. 
 Sir Aubrey was neither to be enticed nor 
 frightened from following his own plan. 
 
 Obstinacy was one of the leading traits in 
 his character. He imagined that he had 
 come to that age when, as a married man, 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 DISPLAY. 
 
 he should have more weight than as a single 
 one. A wife was a necessary part of his 
 establishment. This, added to the dazzling 
 beauty of Laura Malcolm, rendered vain all 
 the efforts of Mrs. Pringle to convince him 
 of the superior charms of a life of celibacy. 
 He had made up his own mind, therefore he 
 very soon made his proposals ; and in due 
 time the young Lady Mannering arrived at 
 Mannering Park, to grace the throne hitherto 
 occupied by the poor relation. 
 
 Mrs. Pringle was ready to sink beneath 
 the blow. Once more she saw before her 
 the dusty parlour in New North Row, and 
 her heart trembled at the dreary prospect of 
 the change. With the spite and envy of a 
 despairing soul, she concentrated the whole 
 torce of her hatred upon the head of the 
 offending bride. But the hour of her trial 
 was not so near as she had anticipated.
 
 DISPLAY. 115 
 
 Lady Mannering, with the most winning 
 grace, had made it a point that no change 
 was to take place in the arrangements of the 
 house on her account. Her lofty spirit 
 could ill brook the supposition that she 
 could imagine a being like Mrs. Pringle to 
 be in her way. Sir Aubrey, who, in spite 
 of his love of display grudged every penny 
 that was spent, was too happy to retain his 
 Cerberus over his now augmented retinue. 
 Mrs. Pringle, therefore, remained at Man- 
 nering Park. 
 
 i 2
 
 116 DISPLAY. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The careless nature of Laura had at first 
 made her very inattentive to the proceed- 
 ings of those around her, and therefore the 
 petty manoeuvres of the indefatigable Mrs. 
 Pringle, to carry out her economical plans, 
 had not created the same impression upon 
 her mind, they were destined afterwards to 
 produce. 
 
 On the contrary, she had, in the early 
 days of her sovereignty at Mannering Park, 
 been excessively amused at what she ima- 
 gined to be absence of mind in her new
 
 DISPLAY. 117 
 
 relation. With childish gaiety, she would 
 sometimes seek to couteract her labours, 
 and would steal behind her to re-light the 
 candles on a distant table, which she con- 
 cluded the absent Mrs, Pringle had inad- 
 vertently snuffed out 
 
 At another time, she would again commit 
 to the flames, sundry large bits of coal, 
 which she had watched the good lady care- 
 fully picking off the top of the fire, and 
 depositing at one side of the grate ; nor 
 could she have brought herself seriously to 
 believe that economy was the object, when 
 she saw Mrs. Pringle, daily after luncheon, 
 make a collection of chicken bones and 
 scraps of meat, and carry them to the hall- 
 door, to be there devoured by Sir Aubrey's 
 privileged dog ' Bruce,' the only one allowed 
 to come in and out of the house. 
 
 A more than maternal solicitude for the
 
 118 DISPLAY. 
 
 welfare of Bruce, appeared to Lady Man- 
 nering the sole motive for the uncleanly 
 operation ; but, as Mrs. Pringle always de- 
 clared " he would eat double, if she did not 
 feed him herself, " she concluded that some 
 absolute necessity must have shown itself 
 for restraining so voracious an appetite ; 
 and, as Bruce was her husband's favourite 
 dog, she forbore to suggest any innovation 
 upon the mode of his taking his repasts. 
 
 These, and many other similar proceed- 
 ings, might have enlightened the mind of 
 Lady Mannering, as to the littlenesses that 
 are sometimes associated with grandeur, 
 and which her narrow-minded new relations 
 so fully exemplified. But Laura, in the 
 full measure of her own content, was not 
 disposed to take anything in bad part, and 
 it is possible that Mrs. Pringle might have 
 continued her small savings in peace and
 
 DISPLAY. 119 
 
 quiet, had it not suddenly come to the 
 knowledge of the young wife, that every 
 one of her acts was not only countenanced, 
 but commanded by Sir Aubrey himself. 
 Laura could not bring herself to believe the 
 intelligence, and it needed some circum- 
 stance which would more immediately bear 
 upon her own private arrangements, fully to 
 convince her of the fact. 
 
 An opportunity of this nature soon pre- 
 sented itself. It was a few days after the 
 arrival of Mr. Malcolm, at Mannering Park. 
 A large party was expected to dinner — Sir 
 Aubrey had returned somewhat earlier than 
 usual from hunting, and was in his dressing- 
 room, putting the last touches to a very 
 well-finished toilet, when he was surprised 
 by a gentle tap at the door. It opened, 
 and Lady Mannering, already dressed for 
 dinner, entered the room.
 
 120 DISPLAY. 
 
 There was something in the expression 
 of her face, which struck Sir Aubrey as 
 very unusual, but as he did not choose 
 to provoke an explanation which possibly 
 might not be agreeable, he made no remark, 
 wishing rather to avert what he felt to be 
 an impending storm. 
 
 "Laura," he exclaimed, "what dressed 
 already ! and how well you look in that 
 black velvet and those pearls." 
 
 " Am I very late ? It must be late if 
 you are going down already." 
 
 " Oh no ! it is not late — no one is come 
 yet," replied Lady Mannerlng, turning to 
 the fire-place, and putting the candle she 
 held on the chimney-piece, and then she 
 added — 
 
 " But how cold it is here ! And you 
 have no fire ! Dear me, how very careless 
 of the servants to let it out."
 
 DISPLAY. 121 
 
 And she stooped to see whether it was 
 possible to re-animate what she supposed to 
 be the remains of a fire. To her surprise, 
 she then perceived that it had never been 
 lighted. 
 
 " Why, how is this ?" she exclaimed. 
 " There has been no fire here all day." 
 
 " I never have one," said Sir Aubrey, 
 coldly. 
 
 u What, not even on such a bitter night 
 as this ? It is freezing hard," replied Lady 
 Mannering, with a shiver. 
 
 " I know it, and I suppose now we shall 
 have the hunting stopped," said Sir Aubrey ; 
 " but that is no reason why I should burn 
 all the coal in the house ; coals have risen 
 five shillings a ton this week. There is a 
 fire in the drawing-room, I dare say. I am 
 going down directly." 
 
 " Had you a good run to day ?" asked
 
 122 DISPLAY. 
 
 Laura, turning away her head with an air of 
 marked dissatisfaction. 
 
 " Nothing particular," replied Sir Aubrey, 
 brushing his hair before the glass, " though 
 we killed two foxes." 
 
 11 And your new hunter," said Laura, 
 pursuing her enquiries, with all the in- 
 terest she could command ; " how did he 
 go?" 
 
 " As ill as possible ; he is a regular brute, 
 and can't gallop a yard. I must get rid of 
 him as soon as I can. I suppose I shall 
 contrive to lose about fifty per cent, on my 
 bargain," said Sir Aubrey, sulkily. 
 
 " Talking of horses," observed Laura, as 
 she leaned forward towards the glass over 
 the chimney-piece, as if to examine the Ca- 
 melias in her hair ; "did you know that 
 Papa's horses and servants had all been 
 sent to the inn at Burnham ?"
 
 DISPLAY. 123 
 
 " Of course, I knew it," replied Sir 
 Aubrey, coldly. 
 
 " All his hunters, and even Genevieve's 
 horse," persisted Laura. 
 
 " Of course/' repeated Sir Aubrey ; " Do 
 you think there is anything done here with- 
 out my knowledge." 
 
 "But there was room for them here. 
 Surely there was room enough. I took the 
 trouble of looking over the stables myself 
 when I heard it, and there were three stalls 
 empty." 
 
 " I know there are — but that is no reason 
 I should take in other people's horses," said 
 Sir Aubrey, drily. 
 
 " And why not," asked Laura, in a tone 
 of amazement. 
 
 " Because I don't choose to pay for their 
 food — hay and corn, are ruinous expenses ; 
 and besides, there are straw and beans, and
 
 124 DISPLAY. 
 
 all sorts of things wanting, and the servants' 
 living. I should be eaten out of house and 
 home, if it wasn't for that inn." 
 
 " But papa's horses," expostulated Laura. 
 
 "I make no distinction," replied her 
 husband, stiffly. 
 
 "Well, I must own, I think my father's 
 and sister's horses, might be made an ex- 
 ception to your rules of economy," said 
 Laura with great dignity. 
 
 " I shall make none," was the sharp 
 answer of Sir Aubrey. 
 
 " I thought you had invited papa to come 
 and hunt with you," observed Laura, in a 
 somewhat tremulous tone. 
 
 " So I did, but I did not promise to feed 
 his horses." 
 
 " You might as well have asked him to 
 find his own dinner," cried Laura, indig- 
 nantly.
 
 DISPLAY. 125 
 
 " Not at all — no one ever thinks of taking 
 in other peoples' horses — it is never done 
 anywhere — one might as well keep a hotel, 
 as do such a thing — better far, for at a 
 hotel, at least people would pay for what 
 they get." 
 
 " It is lucky such rules were not applied 
 to you, when you brought your horses to 
 Camerford House," said Laura, proudly. 
 
 " If Mr. Malcolm chooses to be so very 
 magnificent, I cannot help it," said Sir 
 Aubrey shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 " But," replied Laura, gently, as if she 
 was willing to try every means to remove 
 what she imagined such a degrading idea 
 from the mind \ of her husband ; " Why not 
 make an exception for papa ? — If I ask it 
 Aubrey, for my sake ? He must think it 
 very unkind," and the tears trembled in her 
 beautiful eyes as she looked down to conceal 
 them.
 
 126 dispij^y. 
 
 " It is quite impossible, Lady Man" 
 nering ; Mr. Malcolm must pay for his own 
 horses ;" said her husband, in his most dis- 
 agreeable manner, for he did not like the 
 appeal of Laura to his feelings — where a 
 matter of expense was concerned, he had no 
 feelings except bad ones. 
 
 The brow of Laura contracted, and the 
 colour rose to her cheeks, as she drew her- 
 self up to her Ml height, and impetuously 
 answered — 
 
 " Well, I must say, Sir Aubrey, con- 
 sidering the way you have been always re- 
 ceived in my father's house, and that you 
 have not married a beggar, your saving 
 propensities might have found some other 
 object to exercise themselves upon. I 
 should think my fortune would stand the 
 expense of feeding a few horses for a few 
 days."
 
 DISPLAY. 127 
 
 " Your fortune, if you please to remem- 
 ber," observed Sir Aubrey, in a most cutting 
 tone, "has never been paid. Forty thou- 
 sand pounds sound very well on paper, but 
 the reality is one thing, and the mere ex- 
 pectation another. " 
 
 " I really don't know anything about it," 
 said Laura haughtily. " I never read the 
 marriage settlements — I hate everything 
 about money — and all meanness." 
 
 " It would be well, perhaps, to take a 
 few lessons in economy," observed Sir 
 Aubrey in a sententious manner. 
 
 " I need not go far for them," replied 
 Laura, with a sneer. " Between you and 
 Mrs. Pringle, my education in the saving 
 system could soon be completed." 
 
 "My Aunt Margaret is a most worthy 
 woman," said Sir Aubrey, solemnly, for he 
 was touched to the quick by this ill-judged
 
 128 DISPLAY. 
 
 attack on his fac-totum ; " and a most ex- 
 cellent example in all things," he added, 
 with a warning look at his beautiful wife, 
 whose cheeks were still glowing with her 
 unwonted emotion. 
 
 " Oh ! quite perfect, I have no doubt, 
 even to the pattern of her cap. I suppose 
 I must ask her leave before I think of 
 ordering a new one," was the petulant 
 reply, and she hastily took up her candle 
 and quitted the room, in order to hide the 
 tears of vexation and disappointment which 
 she was too proud to show.
 
 DISPLAY. 129 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Vert bitter were the tears that burst from 
 the eyes of Laura, as she hurried back to 
 her own apartments, and locked herself in. 
 Anger and shame, sorrow and disgust, were 
 all blended together, and struggled respec- 
 tively for mastery, as she recalled to her 
 mind every word of the conversation which 
 had just taken place between herself and 
 her husband. 
 
 All her most tender feelings had been 
 outraged by it. Her affection for her father 
 and sister led her particularly to resent any 
 slight shown to them ; and in her inexpe- 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 DISPLAY. 
 
 rience of the ways of people in general, she 
 could not help feeling as if a very serious 
 insult had been purposely offered to them. 
 Had Sir Aubrey condescended to explain 
 more minutely all the rules and regulations 
 of his household, and quoted precedents of 
 unquestionable authority for such very eco- 
 nomical arrangements, she might have bet- 
 ter understood the matter, although, to 
 entertain his view of it, would have been 
 an impossibility to her. 
 
 With all her faults, she was neither stingy 
 nor avaricious ; and, as she was certain the 
 practice in question had been unknown in 
 her father's house, and that she had never 
 troubled herself to inquire what went on in 
 those of other people, she settled in her own 
 mind that the idea was a joint emanation 
 from the brains of Sir Aubrey and his eco- 
 nomical relation, Mrs. Pringle.
 
 DISPLAY. 131 
 
 There could not have been a more unfor- 
 tunate combination for the peace of mind 01 
 Laura, She felt immediately as if she was 
 no longer to be mistress in her own house. 
 Her matronly dignity quickly took alarm, 
 and feelings sprung to life in her bosom 
 against Sir Aubrey and his invaluable aunt, 
 of which a day earlier she would not have 
 been capable. 
 
 Her disappointment was extreme. She 
 was disappointed in everything — but most 
 especially in her husband. He had sud- 
 denly revealed himself in no very amiable 
 light ; thwarted her wishes, and virtually 
 acknowledged in his house a higher autho- 
 rity than her own. The recollection of his 
 words and manner galled her to the quick, 
 and for some minutes she wept unre- 
 strainedly. 
 
 Unfortunately, however, the hour at 
 
 k 2
 
 132 DISPLAY. 
 
 which all this occurred, did not admit of 
 her indulging her grief in the long silence 
 and solitude she felt that she required. The 
 imperative call of the dinner hour was close 
 at hand, and, in a few minutes, the gentle 
 voice of Genevieve was heard demanding 
 admittance. 
 
 Without drying her eyes, Laura hastily 
 opened the door, and the tears bedewed her 
 cheek, as she sat down again by the fire. 
 
 " Laura, dear Laura, what is the matter?" 
 said the astonished Genevieve, — for grief 
 was a very unusual expression on the beau- 
 tiful face of her sister. 
 
 " Oh ! nothing, Gevevieve-*-at least, no- 
 thing we can help — nothing you can help 
 me in," she replied — for she did not like to 
 tell her sister the disagreeable fact of which 
 she was sure she was ignorant. 
 
 "Yes, but I am certain I could help
 
 DISPLAY. 133 
 
 you," said Genevieve, tenderly. "I am 
 quite sure I could — only tell me. At all 
 events, I could comfort you, poor darling. " 
 
 And she took one of Laura's hands, and 
 passed it round her own neck. 
 
 " Only tell me," she continued, nestling 
 up to her side. 
 
 A burst of tears was the only reply. 
 
 " Laura, don't cry so," said Genevieve, 
 u I can't bear it — what can be the matter? 
 You must not cry so," she added vehe- 
 mently, as her own eyes filled with tears. 
 
 u Oh ! Genevieve," said Laura, unable to 
 resist the kind, soft manner of her sister. 
 u You don't know how miserable I am." 
 
 And she laid her head fondly on the 
 round, white shoulder of Genevieve, whose 
 arm now encircled her waist. 
 
 " Don't say that, Laura, my own darling, 
 why should you be unhappy ; you at least
 
 184 DISPLAY. 
 
 have no one to make you unhappy/' said 
 Genevieve, with a little sigh, as she thought 
 of the enviable position of her sister, and 
 her own servitude to the indefatigable 
 Madame Tomasset at home. 
 
 " Oh ! yes I have, though/ 7 cried Laura, 
 impetuously. " There is that odious Mrs. 
 Pringle. It is Mrs. Pringle who has made 
 Aubrey so unkind." 
 
 61 Unkind! Aubrey unkind! and to 
 you, Laura," said Genevieve, in a tone of 
 surprise. 
 
 " Yes, unkind, cruel," sobbed Laura. 
 u What do you think they have done be 
 tween them ? They have actually turned 
 out Papa's horses and servants, and sent 
 them to the inn at Burnham. And your 
 horse too, your poor Saladin, turned out of 
 our stables — of my stables, and without 
 even telling me a word about it," and a
 
 DISPLAY. 135 
 
 fresh burst of tears showed how genuine 
 was the distress she felt. 
 
 " Turned them out ? " exclaimed Gene- 
 vieve, with a look of surprise, and then 
 added quickly : " oh ! not turned them out, 
 only sent them to the inn. Perhaps there 
 was no room ; Aubrey has a great many 
 hunters. 
 
 " But there was room," cried Laura. 
 " plenty of room ; and if there had not been, 
 why not send away some of the carriage 
 horses — any, except poor papa's. I cannot 
 bear the thought." 
 
 " But why was it done?" asked Gene- 
 vieve, simply. 
 
 " Why ! what do you think ? Just to 
 save the wretched bit of food they would 
 have eaten. Oh Genevieve, how I do hate 
 such meanness. It does disgust me so. I 
 feel as if I could never look any one in the
 
 136 DISPLAY. 
 
 face again. But it is all that odious Mrs. 
 Pringle's doing. I know it is." 
 
 "I am sure Aubrey never could have 
 thought of such a thing himself, 7 ' said Gene- 
 vieve eagerly, and hoping to divert the 
 anger of Laura from her husband. 
 
 " I don't know — I think not — I hope not," 
 said Laura, sadly, for she knew the charita- 
 ble suggestion of her sister to be utterly de- 
 void of foundation. 
 
 "At all events," continued Genevieve, 
 "it does not much signify. The horses 
 will do very well at the inn, and if it is 
 by way of economy, Papa will only laugh 
 at it. You know what a joke he always 
 makes at home of what he calls Madame To- 
 masset's Sconomie de bouts de chandettes." 
 
 " Ah, yes — but Madame Tomasset's 
 savings are very different from Mrs. Prin- 
 gle's," said Laura, with a sneer.
 
 DISPLAY. 137 
 
 11 1 should think so, indeed," cried Gene- 
 vieve, recovering her spirits ; "for it is 
 such fun watching her. She picks up every 
 bit of paper and every bit of thread she can 
 find upon the floor, and even pins. She 
 has got a great pincushion, the shape of a 
 heart, in her pocket, and I believe she con- 
 trives to fill it every day." 
 
 " What a woman," said Laura, with a 
 sigh. 
 
 " And yet Aubrey calls her c dear Aunt 
 Margaret.' I wonder how any one can call 
 her dear, I am sure." 
 
 " It would be long before I should do so," 
 muttered Laura ; and a shiver passed over 
 the ivory shoulders of the fail 1 speaker, as 
 she bent her head downwards. 
 
 " Oh, she is not worth thinking about," 
 said the peace-making Genevieve; " and I am 
 sure the cap she puts on, on company days,
 
 138 DISPLAY. 
 
 ought to be punishment enough for all her 
 sins. Did you ever see such a thing ? It 
 is like the Tower of Babel. And to-day she 
 has changed her flowers, and put red roses 
 into it, and long red strings. Oh, she is so 
 fine." 
 
 " Horrid woman," murmured Laura. 
 
 " Oh ! horrid enough. But perhaps she 
 doesn't mean any harm, after all," suggested 
 Genevieve, whose kind heart never could 
 bear to cast serious blame upon any one — 
 "and her fashions, I suppose, were brought 
 from India." 
 
 " If she had but stayed there," ejaculated 
 Laura. 
 
 " It would have been a thousand pities — 
 I never should have seen the cap and the 
 heart pincushion — And I know plenty of 
 other things besides, but I haven't time to 
 tell you now," said Genevieve, gaily — " But
 
 DISPLAY. 139 
 
 indeed, we must go" down to the drawing- 
 room," she added ; " every one will wonder 
 where you are." 
 
 " Oh ! no one will miss me — Mrs. Prin- 
 gle is there," replied Laura, in a tone of 
 pique. 
 
 " Laura, how can you be so foolish," re- 
 monstrated Genevieve ; " as if that woman 
 was worth minding. Aubrey only keeps her 
 here to do the housekeeping business. He 
 always gives her his keys to keep when he 
 goes out hunting." 
 
 " They could not be trusted to his wife, 
 of course," observed Laura. 
 
 " Well, I dare say you would lose them," 
 answered Genevieve, laughing; "I should 
 like to see you with a great bunch hanging 
 to your side, like ' dear Aunt Margaret!' but 
 do Laura come down now ; your poor eyes 
 are a little red still — put some rose-water to
 
 140 DISPLAY* 
 
 them, and let me settle your hair. You 
 have spoilt your beautiful white camelia ; 
 there is a leaf out." 
 
 " Oh ! it don't signify," said Laura, with 
 a sigh. 
 
 " Yes, yes, it does — it quite spoils the 
 shape. Let me put in another ; here is a 
 very pretty red one," replied Genevieve, un- 
 fastening the broken flower from Laura's 
 hair, as she spoke. In a few moments the 
 arrangement was completed, and Laura hav- 
 ing, in some degree, removed the traces of 
 emotion from her face, both sisters des- 
 cended to the drawing-room, where by this 
 time all the expected guests had assembled. 
 
 The sound of many voices recalled her 
 somewhat to herself, and the remembrance 
 of her duties, but her equanimity was but 
 partially restored, when it was again upset 
 by perceiving that Sir Aubrey, in a corner
 
 DISPLAY. 141 
 
 of the room, was in close conversation with 
 the detested Mrs. Priugle. The Pyramid 
 of red roses was going up and down 
 with fearful velocity. Doubtless it was a 
 weighty matter that was under discussion. 
 The irritation of Laura returned tenfold, 
 and it was in no very enviable mood that 
 she sat down to dinner.
 
 142 DISPLAY. 
 
 CHAPTEK IX. 
 
 The great injustice that may be comniitted 
 against a person or persons who have fallen 
 under our displeasure, is seldom thought of 
 by irritable people. In the height of her 
 indignation, Laura never for an instant con- 
 templated the possibility of her or her 
 affairs not having been the subject of the 
 private conversation of Sir Aubrey and his 
 aunt. She had settled in her own mind 
 that they were talking of her. 
 
 It so happened, however, that, on this 
 occasion she was totally mistaken. The
 
 DISPLAY. 143 
 
 simple fact was, that the eternally soliciting 
 Mrs. Pringle had received an unexpected 
 answer to one of her communications, 
 which required an immediate reply. The 
 letter had come just before dinner. It con- 
 tained the offer of a naval cadetship for one 
 of her five sons ; and as the delay of a post 
 might be of consequence, she had, on the 
 earliest opportunity, seized upon Sir Aubrey 
 Mannering, to consult him upon the subject. 
 
 The conference was drawing to a close 
 just at the moment that Laura entered the 
 room ; but she only saw, in the sudden se- 
 paration of the consulting parties, a wish to 
 avoid her observation ; and her spirit re- 
 volted against the duplicity which, she ima- 
 gined, was being practised against her. 
 
 The more she dwelt upon her suspicions, 
 the more they became confirmed ; and the 
 suffering which her own thoughts entailed
 
 144 DISPLAY. 
 
 upon her, gave to her manner a nervousness 
 and hurry which was very unusual to it. 
 
 Those among her guests who were 
 strangers to her might not have observed it ; 
 but to any one familiar with her habits, and 
 the peculiar aplomb which was naturally and 
 gracefully blended with every thing she said 
 and did, it was strikingly apparent. 
 
 The practised eye of Mr. Malcolm in- 
 stantly detected it ; nor was he slow in 
 pretty nearly divining its cause. It needed 
 but little of his usual tact, when he came 
 into the drawing-room after dinner, to dis- 
 engage his daughter from her surrounding 
 guests, and seat himself by her side, at a 
 convenient distance from the rest of the 
 company. Very soon, she had confided to 
 his ear the cause of her sorrow, and poured 
 forth the unmeasured disgust with which the 
 stinginess of Sir Aubrey and the meddling 
 of Mrs. Pringle had filled her mind.
 
 DISPLAY. 145 
 
 " You take it too seriously, my dear 
 child," said Mr. Malcolm, in a cheerful tone ; 
 for he was much relieved by finding the sub- 
 ject of her annoyance to be so little im- 
 portant. " Why vex yourself about such a 
 trifle?" 
 
 " But it is not a trifle, papa," replied 
 Laura ; "it cannot be a trifle to me to see 
 you slighted." 
 
 " But if I do not see the affair in the 
 same light, why insist on my being offended? 
 After all, it does not signify where the horses 
 are ; the inn at Burnham is a very good one." 
 " I dare say it is, papa ; but it is the spirit 
 of the thing that I cannot endure. And then, 
 that odious Mrs. Pringle's interference. 
 Would you believe it, papa — she meddles in 
 every thing ; and advises Aubrey, in all his 
 money concerns — actually keeps his keys! 
 Now, is it not hard ?" 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 DISPLAY. 
 
 " What ! that she should keep the keys ? 
 No — I should think it a blessing," said Mr. 
 Malcolm, laughing. 
 
 " Papa — how can you laugh at anything 
 so serious," said Laura, fretfully. 
 
 " But why make it serious, Laura ?" per- 
 sisted her father. " For my part, I think 
 I could endure her at Camerford House, red 
 roses and all, if she would only keep my 
 keys. But, Laura, when are you coming 
 to see the old house again ? you really must 
 pay us a visit." 
 
 "I am sure I don't know," answered 
 Laura. " As long as there is any hunting, 
 I don't see a chance of moving Aubrey from 
 this." 
 
 " Why ! he talked of going to town in 
 February," observed Mr. Malcolm. 
 
 " Yes, but he will never do it — Mrs. 
 Pringle will find out it is more expensive 
 than staying here," said Laura.
 
 DISPLAY. 147 
 
 "At all events, he will go up at Easter," 
 said Mr. Malcolm, consolingly. 
 
 " I wish Easter was come, then — I am 
 sick of staying here. How I long to see 
 London and its dear gas-lights once more — 
 and to have my opera-box, and wear all my 
 diamonds ! I am quite tired of looking at 
 them in their cases " — and the fair face of 
 Laura brightened a little. 
 
 " You must let Genevieve come and stay 
 with me, Papa," she added, still pursuing 
 the train of ideas the word ' London ' had 
 conjured up — " we shall have plenty of 
 room for her in that great house in Grosve- 
 nor Square — and she will look so pretty in 
 my barouche. Do you know, Papa, I think 
 Lord Eardley admires her exceedingly. 
 There would be a match for her !" 
 
 "•'For Heaven's sake, Laura," said the 
 prudent parent, " do not put such an idea 
 
 L 2
 
 148 DISPLAY. 
 
 into her head, now. At her age, nothing 
 would come of it — she is too giddy, and 
 would never make up her mind, even if he 
 were to propose. And, as to her going to 
 you, my darling Laura, you must know it is 
 quite impossible — she must not be seen for 
 the next year and a half, at least. 
 
 " She does not seem more reconciled to 
 Madame Tomasset than she was at first," 
 observed Laura ; " and yet how wonderfully 
 she has got her on. I never heard any 
 one's singing so much improved. She is a 
 better governess than I was," added Laura, 
 with a smile. 
 
 " Poor Genevieve does not think so. 
 But Madame Tomasset is certainly a most 
 accomplished woman, and a very dragon of 
 propriety." 
 
 " She would do with Mrs. Pringle, then," 
 observed Laura ; " she is always preaching
 
 DISPLAY. 149 
 
 against what she calls ' the manners of the 
 day.' Levity and extravagance are two 
 words that are never out of her mouth ;" 
 and Laura laughed outright. 
 
 " My dear child/' said Mr. Malcolm, de- 
 lighted to see her returning spirits, " do 
 leave that old woman alone. Look upon 
 her as a necessary infliction, and never mind 
 her. You don't know the harm she might 
 do you, if you make an enemy of her. You 
 had much better have her as a friend/' 
 
 " Friend !" echoed Laura, sitting suddenly 
 upright on the sofa, and looking at her 
 father full in the face. " Papa, you are 
 surely joking !" 
 
 " No, I am not," said Mr. Malcolm, who 
 lor once spoke the truth from his heart. 
 " She is very well worth enduring. Her 
 position is an unusual one. It is always 
 well to adapt oneself to circumstances.
 
 150 DISPLAY. 
 
 Take my advice, and don't quarrel with 
 her." 
 
 " Oh ! she may go on picking up the pins 
 with all my heart," answered Laura, with a 
 sneer, which spoke little cordiality. 
 
 " Don't be a child, Laura, but keep your 
 eyes about you. You may have difficult 
 people to deal with. Recollect you don't 
 know one of them thoroughly yet." 
 
 Mr. Malcolm spoke these words almost in 
 a whisper, and as he said them he rose from 
 the sofa, where he had been sitting by his 
 daughter, and sauntered towards the whist- 
 table, at which two stately dowagers, in 
 turbans of gold and silver gauze, were 
 seated with their chosen partners. 
 
 The vacant place by the side of Laura 
 was instantly filled by Lord Eardley, who 
 said as he sat down — 
 
 " Lady Mannering, why did you not honour
 
 DISPLAY. 151 
 
 us at the meet to-day ? — you half promised 
 that you would." 
 
 a Well, I don't exactly know," answered 
 Laura; "I suppose I was lazy — It is hard 
 work setting out so early." 
 
 " But you never come now," observed 
 Lord Eardley, reproachfully. 
 
 " Never ! How can you say so, Lord 
 Eardley ? Once this week, twice last week 
 — why ! I have done nothing but hunt, it 
 seems to me." 
 
 " And it seems to me that you never 
 come," said Lord Eardley, lowering his 
 voice, and looking very sentimental. " Do 
 say you will come to-morrow ?" 
 
 " Well, I don't know about that," replied 
 Laura, laughing ; " I think I shall take to 
 some serious occupation, and not spend my 
 time galloping all over the country." 
 
 " Then I shall certainly give up hunting,"
 
 152 DISPLAY. 
 
 said Lord Eardley, fixing his dark eyes on 
 the lovely face of Lady Mannering, which 
 was again glowing with its usual animation. 
 
 " And, besides," she continued, affecting 
 a solemn air, " Mrs. Pringle doesn't approve 
 of ladies hunting. — She says it was never 
 the fashion in her time." 
 
 " I should think not, indeed," said Lord 
 Eardley — " Fancy her going over a fence in 
 that flaming cap. I should die of it." 
 
 " So would she, most likely," said Laura, 
 laughing heartily at the idea. 
 
 "How beautifully your sister rkjes," ob- 
 served Lord Eardley, after a moment's 
 pause. 
 
 " Does she not," exclaimed Laura — "And 
 that pretty Saladin, he bounds over every 
 thing, like a deer." 
 
 " She sits upon her horse like a Grecian 
 statue," said Lord Eardley, who piqued
 
 DISPLAY. 153 
 
 himself upon his taste ; "I never saw so 
 graceful a seat — except yours," he added, 
 in a low voice. 
 
 " Oh, Genevieve rides better than I do," 
 said Laura, quite naturally ; " and she is 
 fonder of it ; though I like it well enough, 
 too. 
 
 " Then, why not come to-morrow?" sug- 
 gested her companion. 
 
 " Well, call Genevieve here, and we can 
 talk about it," said Laura, turning round to 
 look for her sister who had been sitting not 
 far behind her. 
 
 Just then, the sound of music came from 
 the adjoining room, and 'St. Patrick's day in 
 the morning,' was distinctly heard, well 
 thumped upon the piano-fort as a duet. 
 
 " Oh ! there are those two eternal Miss 
 Ibbetsons — or the Misses Ibbetson, as their 
 mamma always takes care to call them, when
 
 154 DISPLAY. 
 
 she introduces them. I know their horrid 
 Irish quadrilles by heart," said Lord Eard- 
 ley, laughing. 
 
 "It is more than they do themselves," 
 replied Laura ; "they play wretchedly." 
 
 " I wonder they can bring themselves to 
 exhibit," observed Lord Eardly " they never 
 play in time." 
 
 " Why you see they have nothing to say, 
 so they always march off to the piano-forte, 
 that they may not pass for complete nonen- 
 tities," said Laura. 
 
 "Oh! I assure you Lady Mannering you 
 are mistaken," answered Lord Eardly; 
 " The Miss Ibbetsons have plenty to say — 
 but they can't talk out loud. They can 
 whisper in a corner with gentlemen, and tell 
 characters by hand writing, and have a 
 variety of accomplishments of that sort; they 
 don't want for ideas you may believe me,
 
 DISPLAY. 155 
 
 and are very industrious in their way, but 
 haven't succeeded yet " — and he laughed 
 somewhat spitefully as he remembered the 
 many young lady schemings of the Miss 
 Ibbetsons from which he had always con- 
 trived to escape. 
 
 " I should have thought their ideas were 
 all absorbed in their petticoats. I never 
 saw such voluminous folds of crinoline," 
 remarked Laura. 
 
 "Yes, and did you ever observe when they 
 stoop, or sit down, their lank bodies go one 
 way and the crinoline the other, and you see 
 two distinct objects — one hears of people 
 dancing 'a cdte du temps, but the Miss 
 Ibbetsons contrive to dance ' a cote des jupes,' 
 in a manner, for which they deserve especial 
 credit." 
 
 And Lord Eardley, laughed with all his 
 heart.
 
 156 DISPLAY. 
 
 " They are certainly invpayables" said 
 Laura; "but how much longer are they 
 going to keep up that horrid noise." 
 
 " They have got into Scotch tunes now — 
 I suppose we shall have Welch by and by. 
 Poor papa's nerves will be tortured — do 
 look for Genevieve, I will make her sing, 
 to stop the others." 
 
 " Miss Malcolm will be much obliged to 
 you," said Lord Eardley, with a smile, as he 
 got up to obey the commands of Lady 
 Mannering. — In a few moments he returned, 
 followed by Genevieve, who asked in a 
 merry voice, for what reason she had been 
 summoned. 
 
 " I was doing civilities for you, Laura, in 
 the other room ; no one would take notice of 
 the Miss Ibbetsons' playing, so I went and 
 sat down by them." 
 
 " It was exactly to protect me and my
 
 DISPLAY. 157 
 
 company from them that I sent for you. 
 Couldn't you manage dear Genevieve, to 
 make them stop their eternal quadrilles, and 
 sing something instead/' said Lanra. 
 
 " Oh ! it would be too ill-natured to stop 
 them," answered Genevieve. " They must 
 soon come to a natural end, for they only 
 know three sets of tunes and they are at the 
 second already. I know the endings of all 
 of them — there, don't you remember the 
 three chords ?" 
 
 And she laughed with the prettiest ex- 
 pression of gaiety that was possible. 
 
 The spirits of Genevieve always seemed 
 to revive those of every one around her ; 
 and the fine dark eyes of Laura sparkled 
 with amusement, as she replied — 
 
 " Remember them ! Shall I ever forget 
 them. They have been regularly dinned 
 into my ears every evening since I came
 
 158 DISPLAY. 
 
 to the country. It was just the same at 
 Florence, when we were there — -just the 
 same at Brighton. I should think, where- 
 ever they go, the Miss Ibbetsons, and their 
 quadrilles, will be remembered to all eternity." 
 
 " It is their only chance of being immor- 
 talized, I should think," said Lord Eardley, 
 compassionately. 
 
 " Genevieve," said Laura, turning to her 
 sister, with animation-; — * what do you say 
 to going out hunting to-morrow ?" 
 
 "Oh! Laura, how I should like it!" 
 was the ready reply. 
 
 " If Saladin is not too fresh," interposed 
 Lady Mannering. 
 
 "He is never too fresh — he cannot be too 
 fresh, Laura. It is so pleasant when he is 
 in spirits ; he does not seem to touch the 
 ground," said Genevieve, with her eyes 
 sparkling.
 
 DISPLAY. 159 
 
 " With Miss Malcolm's riding there can 
 be no danger," observed Lord Eardley, who 
 viewed the hunting field in a very different 
 light on the days when graced by Lady 
 Mannering, to those when no ladies en- 
 livened the scene. 
 
 " Well, if you really think so," said Laura, 
 doubtingly. 
 
 " Oh, I am sure of it, certain of it ; do 
 settle to go, Laura," pleaded Genevieve, in 
 her most earnest manner. She was pas- 
 sionately fond of hunting. 
 
 " Well I don't say I will not," said Laura, 
 with a smile. " But where is the meet 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " At Elm Hill, the nicest country possible 
 for you," answered Lord Eardley. 
 
 " I know it," said Laura ; " but Gene- 
 vieve has never been there." 
 
 "It is not far — only nine miles," said
 
 160 DISPLAY 
 
 Lord Eardley, " and a capital road all the 
 way." 
 
 " But we had better not ride there," ob- 
 served Laura. " Let us make a party and 
 go in the barouche. I wonder if Aubrey 
 would like to go — where is he ?" 
 
 "Playing at whist in the other room. 
 Shall I go and tell him," said Genevieve 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Oh ! no ! he will say we made him lose 
 the odd trick," said Laura, laughing. " We 
 must bide our time, and talk only between 
 the deals. We will go in and see what can 
 be done." 
 
 And Lady Mannering as she spoke, rose 
 from the sofa. 
 
 " Only settle to go — don't let our party 
 be put off, dear Laura," whispered the 
 anxious Genevieve. 
 
 And the dark eyes of Lord Eardley
 
 DISPLAY. 161 
 
 seconded this prayer, as he watched the 
 stately form of Laura gliding before him, as 
 she moved towards the inner room, where 
 the whist tables were placed. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 DISPLAY. 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 The next morning was beautiful. It was a 
 fine clear day, without wind, and a bright 
 sun, beneath whose rays the slight frost of 
 the night had already begun to disappear. 
 as the gay hunting party came down the 
 broad steps from the hall-door of Mannering 
 Park. 
 
 Sir Aubrey, Mr. Delmaine, and others, 
 had already started on horseback, and the 
 barouche which stood at the door, with its 
 four beautiful iron greys, was destined only 
 to convey Lady Mannering and her sister,
 
 DISPLAY. 163 
 
 with Lord Earclley and Mr. Malcolm as 
 their escort. They were all in the highest 
 spirits ; and, after a rapid drive, soon came 
 in sight of Elm Hill, which was the covert 
 to be drawn that day. 
 
 It was a very pretty sight. Many of the 
 sportsmen had already arrived, and were 
 exchanging their hacks for the hunters, 
 which had been led by their grooms to the 
 covert side ; and, in all directions, riders in- 
 gay reel coats might be seen emerging from 
 the various lanes and cross roads which in- 
 tersected the common in front of Elm Hill, 
 and hurrying towards the scene of action. 
 
 Their pace by no means slackened on 
 perceiving the well-known equipage of Lady 
 Mannering, coming down the hill towards 
 the common — for Laura was already ex- 
 tremely popular in the country — and even 
 the old weather-beaten fox- hunters, whose 
 
 M 2
 
 1 64 DISPLAY. 
 
 life was passed in the saddle, were not so 
 insensible to the grace and beauty of the 
 young bride and her sister, as not to feel 
 the pleasure of the day enhanced by their 
 arrival. 
 
 They were very soon mounted. Gene- 
 vieve, on her favourite Saladin, a spirited 
 grey Arabian — and her sister, on a dark 
 chestnut, of- exceeding beauty, which had 
 been a wedding-gift from her father. Both 
 sisters looked well on horseback, but Gene- 
 vieve was the best rider. She had far 
 greater judgment in the management of her 
 horse, which, with her undaunted courage, 
 left few fears as to her safety in the minds 
 of the beholders. 
 
 After a very short time, a cheering cry 
 was heard — the fox was found — the hounds 
 burst from the covert — and away went the 
 whole field, over hill and dale, with such
 
 DISPLAY. 165 
 
 lightning speed, that in a few minutes not a 
 vestige remained of the brilliant crowd 
 which had so lately gathered on the well- 
 known patch of green turf which bordered 
 the covert of Elm Hill. 
 
 This wonderful rapidity of motion did not 
 last long ; and in about twenty minutes the 
 hounds came to a check. If the truth had 
 been owned, there were few of the bold 
 riders most forward in the chase who were 
 sorry to have a momentary pause. Pan- 
 ting and breathless, more from excitement 
 than fatigue, the fine horses chafed at this 
 untoward delay ; but hunting, like every- 
 thing else, has its changes and chances; 
 and for some time it really appeared as if, 
 with that short run, the whole sport of the 
 day was to conclude. 
 
 4 The fox had taken refuge among some 
 rocks, and vain were all the efforts of hounds
 
 166 DISPLAY. 
 
 and huntsmen to dislodge him from the 
 shelter he had found. Disappointment sat 
 upon every countenance ; and, after a con- 
 siderable lapse of time, it was agreed to pro- 
 ceed to another covert at a little distance — 
 which was pronounced, by the best-informed 
 of the sportsmen, to be "a sure find." 
 
 They were not deceived. In a little 
 vhile their perseverance was rewarded — 
 another fox was found — and away flew 
 the terrified animal, with its enemies in hot 
 pursuit, as if their lives depended on their 
 speed. This time, however, no friendly 
 rocks were in view. A fine open country 
 was in front, and, to the experienced, a long 
 and steady run was a matter of certainty. 
 
 The terrific pace at last began to tell both 
 upon horses and riders, and one straggler 
 after another was overtaken by the least* 
 forward, till at last it became evident that
 
 DISPLAY. 167 
 
 only the very crack riders were likely to 
 be in at the death. 
 
 Among those who pulled up with a wis- 
 dom much to be commended, were Laura 
 and Genevieve. It is doubtful if the latter 
 might not have been tempted to try still 
 further the mettle of Saladin, had it not 
 been for the strict commands of Mr. Mal- 
 colm, that "she should not leave her sister." 
 Prudent man, he had perhaps two reasons 
 for this. It was quite certain, however, 
 that for any rational people they had had 
 quite riding enough. They were still a 
 great distance from home, and Genevieve 
 was obliged to resign herself to her fate. 
 
 As soon as it was announced that Lady 
 
 Mannering was about to leave the hunt, a 
 
 sudden lameness was observed by Lord 
 
 \ Eardley in his horse, and the necessity for 
 
 returning home slowly was so vehemently
 
 168 DISPLAY. 
 
 asserted by his lordship, that Laura was 
 forced to break through the rule she always 
 laid down, " that on her account no one 
 should ever give up their sport." 
 
 This was an exceedingly good ride, and 
 went far in securing to her the popularity 
 she had from the first enjoyed among her 
 fox-hunting friends. She was perfectly in- 
 dependent on horseback, and not being in 
 any degree in the way, no one felt the un- 
 comfortable necessity of having to take care 
 of her. 
 
 The ride home was extremely pleasant. 
 Before they had proceded far, they were 
 overtaken by several acquaintances, who 
 fairly " thrown out," were returning to their 
 homes, which were in the neighbourhood of 
 Mannering Park. The sport of the mor- 
 ning did not appear to have taken the edge 
 off the spirits of any of the party, and long
 
 DISPLAY. 169 
 
 after the short-lived winter's day had come 
 to a close, the silvery laugh of Genevieve 
 might have been heard, as they cantered 
 along the lanes leading to the great avenue 
 which formed the entrance to Mannering 
 Park. 
 
 It was quite dark when they reached the 
 house, and in all the comfortable anticipation 
 of a nice warm cup of tea, the fair Amazons 
 retired to their respective dressing-rooms.
 
 170 DISPLAY. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 It was nearly eight o'clock, when Lady 
 Mannering, with evident signs of perturba- 
 tion upon her countenance, made her ap- 
 pearance in the drawing-room, where she 
 found Lord Eardley, Dr. Radcliffe, and Mrs. 
 Pringle already assembled — the chaplain 
 looking but little pleased at having been 
 kept waiting for his dinner. 
 
 (i Only think," exclaimed Laura, as she 
 entered the room, " it is just eight, and no 
 one come back yet !" 
 
 " The run was very long, I suppose," said 
 Lord Eardley.
 
 DISPLAY. 171 
 
 " But we have been home these two 
 hours — where can they have gone to ?" re- 
 plied Lady Mannering. 
 
 " They have got into some out-of-the-way 
 place, depend upon it ; and as they must 
 come back by the road, they may have to go 
 round, and with horses pretty well done up, 
 they can't get on very fast," observed Lord 
 Eardley. 
 
 " Papa hates galloping his hunters along 
 the road," said Genevieve, who had just 
 come into the room, and overheard the 
 words of the last speaker. 
 
 " Depend upon it," observed Dr. Ead- 
 cliffe gloomily ; " they will take their time." 
 
 " I begin to be frightened," said Laura, 
 looking anxiously from one to the other. 
 
 " Oh ! there is no danger ;" answered 
 Genevieve, who was not of an apprehensive 
 nature.
 
 172 DISPLAY. 
 
 "And, besides, they could not all be 
 killed together," said Lord Eardley, looking 
 as if he thought he had made a very clever 
 remark. " There are five missing, for you 
 know Captain Lawrenson and Sedley were 
 to come home with Aubrey. I heard them 
 settling it. Now you see five men couldn't 
 break their necks in the same ditch." 
 
 "Not easily," said Dr. Eadcliffe; "ex- 
 cept out of a railway train." 
 
 At the sound of the word ' railway,' Mrs. 
 Pringle, who was doing some white cotton 
 crochet work near the lamp on the table, 
 took off her spectacles, and, raising her 
 head, exclaimed, "Do you know what I 
 think ? They will come back to Burnham 
 by the train." 
 
 "Nothing more likely," said Dr. Eadcliffe, 
 brightening up at the idea that dinner might 
 in that case be near coming ; for Lady Man-
 
 DISPLAY. 173 
 
 nering could never think of waiting for a 
 train that only came in at nine o'clock. 
 
 " I don't think so at all," replied Laura. 
 
 " I assure you, Lady Mannering," said 
 Mrs. Pringle, gently, " there is nothing 
 more likely. I have known Aubrey do it 
 several times. You must not alarm your- 
 self." 
 
 The equanimity of Laura was not likely 
 to be much restored by any advice from 
 Mrs. Pringle, and the intimate knowledge 
 she always displayed of the habits and 
 tastes of her husband had begun to be 
 excessively galling. She, therefore, did not 
 answer, but looked discontentedly into the 
 fire before her. 
 
 "If we could but know where the run 
 ended," said the worthy chaplain, who felt 
 that his prospect of dinner was not improv- 
 ing by the discussion. " Which way were
 
 174 DISPLAY. 
 
 they going, Lord 'Eardley, when you left 
 them?" 
 
 " Straight for Ashridge," was the reply. 
 
 " Well," continued the doctor, to whom 
 every inch of the ground was familiar. 
 u they would find the earths stopped there, 
 and, unless they killed immediately, the fox 
 would be sure to make for Coleshill or 
 Batley's Wood. Both places would leave 
 them close to the station at Vermont, and 
 from that they would be here in an hour. 
 Depend upon it, they will come by the nine 
 o'clock train." 
 
 " I begin to think so too," ventured 
 Lord Eardley, looking doubtingly at Laura. 
 " It would be near thirty miles round by 
 the road." 
 
 "Well, if you really think it likely," 
 said Laura, beginning to relax in her opposi- 
 tion to the general idea.
 
 DISPLAY. 175 
 
 " I do, indeed," answered Lord Eardley, 
 positively. 
 
 " Hadn't you better send the carnage 
 down to Burnham, to meet the train," sug- 
 gested Mrs. Pringle, whose active brain, 
 immediately supplied a sure way of saving 
 the expence of a fly from the neighbouring 
 village. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! do send the carriage Laura,'* 
 said Genevieve, eagerly ; " Papa will be 
 here so much the sooner. And perhaps they 
 might not find a fly at the inn. Only think 
 if they had to walk." 
 
 " Well, that would be a bad business, 
 particularly if they are as tired as I am," 
 answered Laura, drawing her lace shawl 
 closer over her shoulders and settling herself 
 back in her arm chair — a movement which 
 made the heart of Dr. Radcliffe sink. Then 
 suddenly resuming the conversation, as if to
 
 176 DISPLAY. 
 
 defer to the opinion of Genevieve, she said : 
 " So you really do think they will come 
 by the train." 
 
 " I do, indeed, Laura," replied Genevieve, 
 and looking round, she added : " Every- 
 body thinks so — they never would ride 
 home thirty miles on their tired horses 
 when they can come by the railroad in 
 an hour. Shall I order the carriage? — 
 do let me, Laura." 
 
 "Well, Genevieve, ring the bell then, 
 and do as you like. Though, I am not 
 at all sure, we are right," answered Laura, 
 with a sidelong glance at Mrs. Pringle, 
 which she did not intend her to see. 
 Mrs. Pringle, however, had put on her 
 spectacles again, and was hard at work 
 with her white cotton and crochet needle, 
 making a frightful thing to disfigure the 
 back of Sir Aubrey's arm-chair.
 
 DISPLAY. 177 
 
 She heard the carriage ordered, but she 
 never looked up from her work. She did 
 not want to seem to interfere, and yet she 
 had carried her point, There would be no 
 hired fly driving up to the door of Manner- 
 ing Park that night. She had succeeded, 
 and was satisfied. She did not want to 
 triumph. Mrs. Pringle was a sensible wo- 
 man in her way. 
 
 "And now," said Laura, whose fears ap- 
 parently were calmed by the decision to 
 which she had just come ; " suppose we ask 
 for dinner. It will be quite impossible to 
 wait for these gentlemen ; they can never 
 be here and dressed before ten o'clock." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly, Lady Mannering. 
 It would be much too long for you to wait," 
 exclaimed Dr. Kadcliffe, eagerly rising, and 
 going towards her. " Let me ring the bell 
 for you ; it is an hour later than usual. 
 
 VOL. i. N
 
 178 D J SPLAY. 
 
 But, to be sure, Lannois has one peculiar 
 talent — he never over-roasts the haunch/' 
 
 With this consolatory idea, the good 
 doctor again relapsed into silence and his 
 arm-chair. Visions of entrees, doubtless, 
 were passing before his eyes ; but he was 
 not left long to his dreams of bliss, for din- 
 ner was soon afterwards announced. It 
 passed over pleasantly enough, considering 
 the mystery that hung over the fate of five 
 individuals who were to have partaken of 
 the repast. 
 
 The fair mistress of the house perfectly 
 recovered her spirits, although still persist- 
 ing that she had no real belief in the arrival 
 of the expected railroad party. She had a 
 childish pleasure in indirectly contradicting 
 any opinion promulgated by her bete noire, 
 Mrs. Pringle ; but Mrs. Pringle took no no- 
 tice of her remarks. She ate her mutton,
 
 DISPLAY. 179 
 
 and drank her two glasses of sherry, with 
 her accustomed regularity ; and dinner was 
 over, and the ladies had retired to their 
 coffee in the drawing-room, before the fate 
 of the travellers was ascertained. 
 
 It then turned out, that the surmises of 
 Mrs. Pringle and Dr. Radcliffe had been 
 perfectly correct. The run had come to an 
 end exactly as the doctor had traced it out, 
 and the tired fox-hunters were too happy to 
 avail themselves of the convenience of a 
 train, for which they had only a few minutes 
 to wait. Their arrival at Mannering Park 
 put an end at once to all anxiety on their 
 account, and Laura was forced to acknow- 
 ledge to herself, that the superior sagacity 
 of the despised ' Aunt Margaret ' had for 
 once been exceedingly useful. 
 
 Dr. Radcliffe, who knew that to it alone 
 he was indebted for getting an excellent 
 
 n 2
 
 180 DISPLAY. 
 
 dinner before it was spoiled, resolved to 
 show his gratitude to her in some more sub- 
 stantial manner than words, and therefore 
 proposed to her a game of penny piquet, in 
 order to pass away the time usefully, until 
 Sir Aubrey and his companions should appear 
 in the drawing-room. 
 
 The doctor particularly hated cards — and 
 Mrs. Pringle, though she loudly denounced 
 all gambling, could not resist the oppor- 
 tunity of realizing a few pence — a matter 
 which her superior skill over her reverend 
 antagonist, rendered certain. 
 
 It was very late when the other gentle- 
 men came in from dinner. Genevieve had 
 almost sung herself to sleep ; and even the 
 platitudes of Lord Eardley began to fall 
 somewhat heavily on the drowsy ear of 
 Lady Mannering. The entrance of the 
 long wished for party immediately infused
 
 DISPLAY. 181 
 
 new life into the weary watchers. As a 
 matter of course, the whole run was run 
 over again, for the benefit of those who had 
 been thrown out, and the subject was far 
 too interesting to almost everybody present, 
 to be hastily passed over. 
 
 The sport had been splendid : no serious 
 accident had occurred to mar the pleasures 
 of the day, and all were in the highest 
 spirits. Sir Aubrey, relaxing from his 
 usual coldness, said a few words of kindness 
 to his wife ; and Mr. Malcolm, who was as 
 ardent a lover of the chase as the youngest 
 sportsman in the field, laughed with the 
 gaiety of a child as he recounted the adven- 
 tures of the day. 
 
 " To wind up everything/' he said, ad- 
 dressing his daughter as he threw himself 
 into an arm-chair by her side, " who do you 
 think, Laura, we encountered when we got
 
 182 DISPLAY. 
 
 off our horses at Ashridge, to wait for the 
 train ?" 
 
 " How can I tell/' answered Laura — 
 " Mrs.Littlejohn, perhaps, or Mrs. Markham. 
 They go every Saturday to town — at least, 
 so I am told, for I know nothing about it." 
 
 " No — it was neither of them — it was no 
 one from this part of the country — But you 
 will never guess," continued Mr. Malcolm. 
 "What do you say to the Mr. and Mrs. and 
 the Misses Somersett Brown ?" 
 
 " Not possible," exclaimed Laura, open- 
 ing her eyes very wide. 
 
 "True — most positively true," returned 
 Mr. Malcolm — "the moment I went upon 
 the platform, I recognised them all — gowns, 
 bonnets, and all — I could have sworn to 
 them at any distance." 
 
 " But you don't know them, Papa !" said 
 Laura.
 
 DISPLAY 183 
 
 " I did not; bur, now there are no pen 
 pie, I know better — " we are the clearest 
 friends in the world," replied Mr. Malcolm, 
 laughing. 
 
 " I can't make it out," said Laura, look- 
 ing puzzled. 
 
 " Listen, and I will tell you all about it," 
 answered her father. " It all comes of the 
 affection of ladies for their caps. Mrs. 
 Brown, it seems, had been on a visit to 
 the Livingstones, at Coleshill, for several 
 days, but to-day she left them, in order to 
 join a very gay party at Ripley Hall, which 
 is given in honour of young Ripley's coming 
 of age. Mrs. Brown, however, had no 
 sooner arrived at Ashridge station, and sent 
 back the carriage which had brought her 
 from Coleshill, than she found that her cap- 
 box was left behind." 
 
 " That was a loss, poor woman/' said
 
 184 DISPLAY. 
 
 Laura, with a smile, as she recollected the 
 flaxen wig of Mrs. Somersett Brown. 
 
 " Yes, and how to recover the loss was 
 the question. Mrs. Brown was frantic — the 
 French maid was in despair — there was no 
 one at the station who could be spared to 
 run back to Coleshill for the box." 
 
 " What could they do ?" asked Laura, 
 looking really interested. 
 
 " Why, it was just settled, as we arrived, 
 that poor old Brown himself should hobble 
 back to Coleshill, and they should give up 
 this train and wait for the next." 
 
 " But the man is always dying of gout !" 
 observed Laura. 
 
 " Of course he is — that is the best part 
 of the joke — he never would have got over 
 the first hill," replied Mr. Malcolm ; " and 
 in half an hour the whole family would 
 have had to walk after him."
 
 DISPLAY. 185 
 
 " And what did you do, Papa, in the 
 middle of all this trouble ?" inquired Laura. 
 
 "Why, what could I do, but act the 
 preux chevalier, and get the sore distressed 
 lady out of her scrape. I luckily had 
 Jenkins there with my second horse, so I 
 sent him off full gallop to Coleshill, and up 
 came the missing box in a tax-cart, just as 
 the train was going to start." 
 
 " Now that is so like you, Papa — going 
 
 out of your way to do what nobody else 
 
 would ever think of doing — and for that 
 
 horrid woman, too, that we have T>een 
 
 avoiding all our lives." 
 i 
 
 " Oh ! there will be no use in that any 
 
 longer;" said Mr. Malcolm, laughing. " I 
 
 am fairly caught — booked, I have no doubt, 
 
 high upon the list. I have been asked a 
 
 dozen times to all her ' Wednesdays' already. 
 
 I was nearly smothered with gratitude all
 
 186' DISPLAY. 
 
 the journey — and old Brown, who was just 
 out of a fit of the gout, and whose great 
 toe, I conclude, will never forget me, insists 
 upon my taking up my abode at his villa 
 whenever I want to run up to town for a 
 few days." 
 
 "You will never get rid of them now," 
 observed Laura, gravely. 
 
 " Never, I fear — nor you either, Laura," 
 replied Mr. Malcolm ; " she will call on you 
 the moment you go to town." 
 
 " Pray, Mr. Malcolm," said Lord Eardley, 
 who* had been listening attentively to all 
 the conversation, "is that Mrs. Somersett 
 Brown the woman that goes by the name of 
 4 my Wednesday ?' " 
 
 " Exactly so," replied Mr. Malcolm. 
 
 "J thought as much," observed the 
 young man, with a wonderful look of intelli.
 
 DISPLAY 187 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Mrs. Somersett Brown, or, as she always 
 chose to spell her name, Mrs. Somerset 
 Browne, in the hope of its being supposed 
 that she belonged, at least, to one noble 
 family, was the daughter of a retired grower, 
 in the north of England. 
 
 Being an only child, she naturally suc- 
 ceeded to the property of her father ; and 
 as — by the time the worthy tea-dealer was 
 gathered to his ancestors — his accumulated 
 savings amounted to a sum which, well in- 
 vested, produced a net income of four hun-
 
 188 DISPLAY. 
 
 dred a-year — so the fat and blooming Miss 
 Huxton imagined herself an heiress of no 
 small consequence. 
 
 A country life offered no charms for her. 
 She had read in novels of the sayings and 
 doings of a variety of great people with 
 high-sounding names, and she longed ar- 
 dently to be amongst them, and take her 
 part in the festive scenes in which she 
 imagined them to pass their lives. Who 
 could tell but that ere long she might con- 
 trive legally to belong to them ? 
 
 feeing of a somewhat tender nature, ma- 
 trimonial views had not always been ex- 
 cluded from the dreams of bliss in which 
 she suffered herself to indulge ; but the fair 
 Caroline Huxton was prudent, as well as 
 ambitious, and firmly shut the door of her 
 heart against all intruders, in the shape of 
 country swains and rural suitors.
 
 DISPLAY. 189 
 
 What to her were the charms of the 
 young, rising apothecary, with the gay shop 
 at the corner of the principal street of the 
 village ; or the pale, sentimental-looking 
 curate, with his suite of three rooms, eight 
 feet square, over the stationer's, and oppo- 
 site the church ? — she, who might have a 
 Lord Edward, or a Lord Ernest, or even 
 an impoverished Earl or Marquis, sighing 
 at her feet. No ! the more she reflected, 
 the higher rose her aspirations ; and, there 
 fore, Miss Huxton resolved upon the utmost 
 circumspection and decorum. 
 
 Her first care was to emancipate herself 
 from the trammels of her country con- 
 nexions, and take up her abode in London. 
 This she contrived to effect through the 
 means of some distant relations, whom she 
 had never seen, but who obligingly ac- 
 cepted her offer of sharing their household
 
 190 DISPLAY. 
 
 expenses, on condition of her occupying 
 suitable apartments in their house. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Clifton, who were the par- 
 ties to whom she applied, had no objection 
 to receive a cousin who was independent, 
 and would cost them nothing. They had 
 a pleasant little dwelling, with a green 
 verandah and a pretty garden, on the sunny 
 side of Notting Hill, and there would be 
 plenty of room. And so in the course of 
 time everything was arranged, and Miss 
 Huxton found herself comfortably domiciled 
 in London. 
 
 She very soon, however, discovered what 
 might have been still earlier apparent to 
 any one so endowed with perspicacity, that 
 her change of abode would produce very 
 little change in her position. Month after 
 month passed by, and the realization of her 
 dreams was by no means nearer. Mr. and
 
 DISPLAY. 191 
 
 Mrs. Clifton were quiet people who liked 
 each other, and liked staying at home, and 
 had not a single acquaintance out of their 
 own line. 
 
 The spirit of the enterprising Miss Hux- 
 ton began to quail. Admirers she had none, 
 and it must be confessed that the thriving 
 apothecary, and the starving curate were 
 even sometimes remembered with regret ; 
 they, however, were safe in the wilds of 
 Cumberland, undisturbed by the sighs of 
 the fair Caroline. 
 
 She was becoming desperate. Morning, 
 noon, and night she studied the Morning 
 Post, and learned by heart all the names of 
 the people who spend a fortune in having 
 their movements advertised in so natural a 
 a manner as to deceive the unwary. The 
 names grew familiar to her ear as household 
 words, but alas! that was all she could attain.
 
 192 DISPLAY. 
 
 Months had been added to months, and 
 Miss Huxton could now count by years 
 since the period of her advent at Notting 
 Hill. Hope had long since sickened and 
 died, when at last a chance — a very remote 
 one dawned upon her view. To make 
 the shadow a reality, was her instant 
 decision. 
 
 It so happened, that Mr. Clifton, the most 
 peaceable man on earth, got into a quarrel 
 with a neighbour. The cause was, his 
 having quite inadvertently seized upon some 
 two feet of ground at the back of his house, 
 which did not belong to him ; and, as he 
 had built a low wall upon it, he did not 
 seem inclined to relinquish the possession of 
 the disputed territory. 
 
 After a long time spent in half amicable 
 and half angry discussion, it was agreed to 
 refer the matter to arbitration ; and one
 
 DISPLAY. 193 
 
 fine day Mr. Somersett Brown arrived at the 
 Notting Hill villa, and introduced himself 
 to its perplexed owner. 
 
 He was a retired solicitor, who, being a 
 friend of the injured party, had kindly come 
 to lend him his legal assistance, in order to 
 extricate him from the difficulty of not being 
 able to prove that four feet of ground were 
 not the same as two. The vigilant eyes of 
 Miss Huxton immediately detected the ar- 
 rival of the new visitor ; and, decking her- 
 self in her brightest ribbons and sweetest 
 smiles, she hurried down to the drawing- 
 room, in order to give the benefit of her 
 advice to her dear cousin. 
 
 Mr. Somersett Brown was then quite a 
 young man, with a florid complexion and 
 black hair. The acquaintance once made, 
 it soon ripened into intimacy ; and Mr. So- 
 mersett Brown was not long in perceiving 
 
 VOL II.
 
 1 94 DISPLAY. 
 
 that he had made a very favourable impres- 
 sion on the gentle Caroline. 
 
 She, on her side, could scarcely restrain 
 herself within the bounds of decorum, when 
 she saw the vista of happiness — long de- 
 ferred happiness — rising before her. It was 
 not, however, the personal charms of Mr. 
 Somersett Brown which caused the extreme 
 favour with which she received his atten- 
 tions ; it was simply his apparent acquaint- 
 ance with several persons of that class to 
 which Miss Huxton looked up with a reve- 
 rence bordering on idolatry. Here was a 
 discovery ! It was of small importance, in 
 her eyes, that his knowledge of aristocratic 
 society should be confined to two or three of 
 the least respectable of its members — per- 
 sons for whom he had transacted business in 
 a very private way : he knew them, and that 
 was quite enough for her. Time and her 
 own talents would do the rest.
 
 DISPLAY. 195 
 
 She married Mr. Somersett Brown. 
 
 The first point was gained — but it would 
 require a much greater amount of patience 
 than is the ordinary share of mortals, to 
 follow, step by step, the rise and progress 
 of this indefatigable aspirant to fashionable 
 notoriety. It must be a wonderfully gifted 
 historian who could faithfully record the 
 amount of schemes, impudence, and mean- 
 ness on her side, and the snubbings, slight- 
 ings, and ridicule on the part of the world, 
 which chequered the life of Mrs. Somersett 
 Brown. 
 
 And were the tale but half told, it would 
 appear incredible. It suffices to know, that 
 after toil which seemed endless, and dis- 
 appointments innumerable, she so far suc- 
 ceeded in her plans as certainly to have 
 emerged from obscurity. She had got her 
 name into the newspapers, which, to her, 
 
 o 2
 
 196 DISPLAY. 
 
 was a matter of paramount importance ; and 
 over the incessant chroniclings of her arri- 
 vals and departures, she kept a most mater- 
 nal watch. 
 
 Arrived at this pinnacle of happiness, she 
 found herself in another dilemma. Some 
 more substantial support than the breath of 
 fame was requisite, in order to enable her 
 to preserve her equilibrium upon the giddy 
 height to which she had climbed. She had 
 been too often thrown over and forgotten 
 not to be perfectly aware that her whole 
 acquaintance would desert en masse, unless, 
 by some strenuous effort, she could continue, 
 as she said, u to bring people together." 
 
 How this was to be accomplished, was 
 the difficult question. With a very small 
 house, and a very small income, it was im- 
 possible to dazzle the world, as the world 
 only likes to be dazzled. The twelve hun-
 
 DISPLAY. 197 
 
 dred people, whose names she boasted of 
 having upon her visiting list, could not be 
 crammed into her two-windowed house, on 
 the wrong side of Park Street, nor feasted 
 upon an income seldom averaging six hun- 
 dred a year ; for Mr. Somerset!; Brown had, 
 of course, long before this, been interdicted 
 from any public exercise of his profession, 
 and could only do an odd job now and then, 
 underhand, for a friend. 
 
 Added to this, her two daughters, whose 
 very existence had been suppressed from 
 the knowledge of the world as long as possi- 
 ble, at length had grown up, and insisted 
 on coming out — an event which straitened 
 still more the circumstances of the family. 
 
 The position began to be embarrassing. 
 The fertile brain of Mrs. Somersett Brown 
 could devise no farther way of expanding 
 the little fortune she possessed. Had she
 
 198 DISPLAY. 
 
 starved herself and her household for two 
 years, she could not have afforded to give 
 even one ball. And, then, where could the said 
 ball be given, even if she had had the means ? 
 
 All at once the idea of a change of resi- 
 dence rushed upon her mind. She would 
 go into the country — living was cheaper 
 there ; and by not going too far away, she 
 might still contrive to attract the society by 
 whose very breath she seemed to exist. 
 
 The plan appeared feasible enough, but 
 to carry it out with any effect, either money 
 or popularity was wanting. Mrs. Somersett 
 Brown had neither. Nothing daunted, how- 
 ever, by the want of means, the only diffi- 
 culty she admitted, she, with her usual 
 activity, set about discovering some mode 
 of carrying out her project. A villa must 
 be taken. A villa was now the subject of 
 her dreams. It, however, turned out to be
 
 DISPLAY 199 
 
 a very much more expensive affair than she 
 had anticipated. Every pretty house within 
 reach of town was already appropriated, and 
 the rent demanded for even the inferior ones 
 was enormous. 
 
 Necessity, however, has no choice ; and 
 Mrs. Somersett Brown had decreed that to 
 her a villa was a necessity. Her labours 
 for a long time were in vain, but at length 
 they terminated in her taking on lease one 
 of the most frightful residences imaginable 
 in the neighbourhood of Hampstead Heath. 
 A miserable house at the end of a long 
 damp lane, a strip of ground with lilac 
 bushes at each side, and some ugly trees in 
 the middle, which prevented the grass ever 
 growing green ; such was the villa and 
 pleasure-grounds in which Mrs. Somersett 
 Brown intended to surprise the world by a 
 continued series of fetes.
 
 200 DISPLAY. 
 
 It was a rural retreat, unique of its kind, 
 and added to its other charms that of being 
 close to ' an Academy for young gentlemen, ' 
 which said individuals were constantly to be 
 seen perched upon the top of the wall that 
 separated them from the territory of Mrs. 
 Somersett Brown — especially when the Miss 
 Somersett Browns made their appearance in 
 the garden. 
 
 No sooner had the indefatigable woman 
 installed herself in her new abode, than 
 she began to enlighten her friends as to the 
 marvels it contained; and, as the long- 
 wished-for paragraph in the Morning Post, 
 about ' the receptions of Mrs. Somersett 
 Brown at her beautiful villa on Hampstead 
 Hill/ gleamed by anticipation before her 
 eyes, she determined that all her acquaint- 
 ance should exhibit the same credulity as 
 the public were supposed to possess.
 
 DISPLAY. 201 
 
 No eulogiuin was, therefore, too great for 
 this terrestrial Paradise ; and by dint of 
 falsehoods and puffings of monstrous magni- 
 tude, a species of curiosity pervaded the 
 world, when Mrs. Somersett Brown's first 
 cards of invitation were issued for a dejeuner 
 on Hampstead Hill. It may be imagined 
 the surprise, not to say dismay, of the gay 
 assemblage who had encountered the heat 
 and dust of a summer's day, in the hope of 
 at least enjoying a beautiful country view, 
 and admiring a very pretty place. Shut in 
 between two high brick walls, which kept 
 the little grass there was, comfortably damp 
 from the rain of the night before, the visitors 
 could see nothing at all. Mrs. Somersett 
 Brown > having kindly concealed from them 
 that the only good view of the adjacent 
 country must be taken from the attic win- 
 dows.
 
 202 DISPLAY. 
 
 There was, therefore, no hope from with- 
 out, and the company resigned themselves 
 to endeavouring to extract what amusement 
 they could from some atrocious amateur 
 singing, assisted by inferior artists with 
 cracked voices — for no good ones ever en- 
 tered her house. Mrs. Somersett Brown 
 was extremely well known in the musical 
 world — a world not always harmonious when 
 its interests are overlooked. 
 
 This, with some tea and very bad fruit, 
 pulled about by her own and all the collected 
 maids of the neighbourhood — for servants 
 there were none — made up the sum total of 
 the festivities which were to compensate to 
 the invited guests, for a dusty drive of five 
 miles. 
 
 It can hardly be supposed that any one 
 who had seen so much of the world as Mrs. 
 Somersett Brown could be ignorant of the
 
 DISPLAY. 203 
 
 paucity of the entertainment she in every 
 way offered to her friends. Certainly not. 
 She knew perfectly well what she had clone. 
 But so frantic was her determination to 
 push herself into notice, by any and every 
 means in her power, that with the most un- 
 blushing effrontery she followed up her plan. 
 The panegyrics on her charming villa 
 were resumed with double spirit, and the 
 public were enlightened as to her future 
 intentions by an inundation of cards for 
 every Wednesday during the remainder of 
 the season. It may be imagined that, after 
 the first specimen, the visitors to the charm- 
 ing villa were few and far between ; but 
 that made no alteration in the aplomb with 
 which its owner asserted the pre-eminence 
 of herself and her " Wednesdays " over 
 every other amusement of the fashionable 
 world.
 
 204 DISPLAY. 
 
 Her impudence was extraordinary. She 
 not only lived with the words, " I hope you 
 will come to my Wednesdays/' eternally on 
 her lips, but she had been heard to declare, 
 " I hope you will not come to my Wednes- 
 days/' to more than one person who had 
 fallen under her displeasure. 
 
 Both invitation and prohibition were 
 pretty nearly alike superfluous ; but, as it 
 is extremely disagreeable to be constantly 
 asked to do anything one has no inclination 
 to do, she became every day a more into- 
 lerable nuisance to the persecuted world, 
 which revenged itself by bestowing upon 
 her the nick-name of " My Wednesday," 
 which promised to cleave to her to her 
 dying day. 
 
 Such was Mrs. Somersett Brown, the 
 lady to whose rescue Mr. Malcolm had so 
 gallantly come, when, on the platform of
 
 DISPLAY. 205 
 
 Ashridge station, he had found her bewail- 
 ing the loss of her caps; and this faint 
 outline of her history will account for the 
 surprise with which Lady Mannering had 
 heard of her father's having made her 
 acquaintance, and accepted an invitation 
 to Sycamore Lodge, which was the name 
 ot the charming villa of the Somersett 
 Browns.
 
 206 DISPLAY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The happy month which had been devoted 
 to the first visit of Genevieve to her sister, 
 was fast drawing to a close, and Mr. Mal- 
 colm began to talk seriously of returning to 
 Camerford House. 
 
 This was sad news for Genevieve, who 
 enjoyed her present life with all the wild 
 dee of a child. The attractions of Madame 
 Tomasset, and her constant round of study, 
 were not likely to compensate for the loss 
 of the gay doings at Mannering Park, and 
 the society of a sister whom she idolized.
 
 DISPLAY. 207 
 
 It was not that Genevieve did not like 
 her own home, but at her age, the soli- 
 tude to which she had been suddenly con- 
 demned, oppressed her spirits ; and this 
 discomfort was not materially diminished 
 by the constant surveillance of a very strict 
 governess. 
 
 There was, however, one feeling which 
 weighed down all others, and caused her 
 many moments of inexpressible sorrow. 
 From the hour of the marriage of her sister, 
 Genevieve had been haunted by the idea 
 that Laura would never again return to 
 Camerford House. In vain she tried to 
 combat the th >ught — it returned again, and 
 again. 
 
 The arrangements of Sir Aubrey did not 
 certainly hold out much hope. In spring, 
 they were to go to London — in summer, to 
 Germany ; and, in winter, it was perfectly
 
 208 DISPLAY. 
 
 impossible to persuade him to stir from 
 home. 
 
 The great passion of his soul, was hunt- 
 ing — and, to indulge it, he spared neither 
 trouble nor expense ; and, as he preferred 
 that country, to which he was accustomed, 
 there was very little chance of being able to 
 persuade him to give up his precious time 
 to the less inviting attractions of a family 
 visit. 
 
 " If there would but come a very long 
 frost, then, perhaps, dear Papa, I might get 
 to you," said Laura to her father, as they 
 walked together in the pleasure-ground, a 
 few days before his departure from Man- 
 nering Park. 
 
 " We must hope for it — and it will come," 
 said Mr. Malcolm, cheerfully ; " we cannot 
 always have such open weather as we have 
 had this winter."
 
 DISPLAY. 209 
 
 " If Aubrey would but let me go by my. 
 self — I should not mind it in the least. I 
 cannot think why I may not/' said Laura. 
 
 " You cannot expect it, dear Laura. To 
 say nothing of losing you, Sir Aubrey would 
 not like to have his house upset, and his 
 party broken up, by your being away. It 
 would not be prudent to propose it, and I 
 strongly advise you not to ask such a thing 
 — certainly not at present.'' 
 
 " But I have asked it, Papa — asked it a 
 dozen times ; and what do you think is his 
 excuse for refusing me ?" said Laura. 
 
 " Oh, he does not choose to spend his 
 time paying visits, I suppose ; it is very 
 natural — few men do/' said Mr. Malcolm. 
 
 " Not at all, Papa — he does not like to 
 spend his money paying for post-horses- 
 He says it is too far for ours, and he will 
 not throw away money upon innkeepers. 
 
 YOL. I p
 
 210 DISPLAY. 
 
 Did you ever know any thing .so stingy?"'' 
 said Laura, 
 
 " He does not mean it so," replied Mr. 
 Malcolm, ''it is only an excuse, in order 
 not to leave the hunting. After all, you 
 know, Laura, neither our country nor 
 our hounds are to be compared with 
 his." 
 
 " I don't believe it is anything about the 
 hunting/' said Laura, decidedly. " I be- 
 lieve it is only a bit of paltry economy, put 
 into his head by Mrs. Pringle, probably. 
 I have a great mind to insist upon going, 
 and paying for the horses myself, out of my 
 own money. But, Papa, what money have 
 I really got ? Do tell me. You managed 
 everything about the settlements — I have 
 not an idea what was in them. Am I to 
 have no money at all, like a child that can- 
 not be trusted ? 1 think I shall apply to
 
 DISPLAY. 211 
 
 Mrs. Pringle, and ask her to lend me all 
 the pennies she wins at picquet." 
 
 " Laura/' said her father, who did not 
 feel quite comfortable at the bitterness be- 
 trayed by her tone, " take my advice, and 
 leave Mrs. Pringle alone." 
 
 " Well, but about the money, Papa/' an- 
 swered Laura, pettishly ; " you have not 
 told me about the money. Am I not to 
 have any all my life ? Every lady 1 know 
 has pin-money." 
 
 u Why, of course, you will have money, 
 Laura," replied Mr. Malcolm. "There was 
 four hundred a year settled for your pin- 
 money." 
 
 " Four hundred P 1 exclaimed Laura, stop- 
 ping short in her walk, and looking her 
 father full in the face, " why, that will never 
 do, Papa — it is nothing — Mrs. Blachford 
 told me the other day that she had twelve, 
 
 r 2
 
 212 DISPLAY. 
 
 and yet she could not manage to keep out 
 of debt." 
 
 " She must manage very badly, then, my 
 dear child," said Mr. Malcolm, with some- 
 thing very like a sigh. 
 
 " Four hundred a year," repeated Laura, in 
 a tone of dismay ; " why that will buy scarcely 
 anything." And her mind ran rapidly over 
 a whole list of things which she had settled 
 were perfectly necessary, and must be im- 
 mediately purchased on her arrival in town. 
 
 " You forget, Laura, "replied Mr. Malcolm, 
 " that you can have nothing very expensive 
 to buy — You have a profusion of jewels, and 
 your trousseau contained splendid lace, and 
 every thing that was newest and prettiest." 
 
 " Yes, thanks to you, Papa," said Laura, 
 turning to him with one of her sweetest 
 smiles ; " but all my gowns and bonnets are 
 old-fashioned now. It is a long time since
 
 DISPLAY. 213 
 
 they were bought You don't know what a 
 difference a few months makes in things, 
 Papa ; most of mine will be quite unwear- 
 able in spring." 
 
 " Yes, if you choose to follow every fool- 
 ish change in the fashion; — but, Laura, is 
 that worth while? — With your style of 
 beauty you may wear anything — One 
 fashion will suit you as well as another," 
 said Mr. Malcolm, who never thought of 
 any other motive for inducing his daughter 
 to moderate her ideas of expense. 
 
 " But I don't see," persisted Laura, 
 " why all this wonderful economy is neces- 
 sary ; Aubrey has an immense fortune, and 
 I am sure we don't spend a quarter of it. 
 And, yet, he goes on just as if we were 
 starving. It was only the other day that 
 he was as angry as possible, because I in- 
 sisted on the windows of our school-house
 
 214 DISPLAY. 
 
 being made a rational size. They are so 
 small that the poor children can literally 
 hardly see to read ; but he made as much 
 fuss about it as if I had asked him to build 
 a palace, and said he could not afford the 
 expense of so many alterations. 1 do de- 
 test all these petty savings." 
 
 "My dear Laura," replied her father, 
 somewhat alarmed at her tone, " you must 
 know, as well as I do, that every one has 
 some peculiarity, some small defect, that is 
 eternally showing itself, and obscuring his 
 better qualities. This love of economy is 
 Aubrey's. He has a perfect specialite for 
 saving in small things. But it does not, in 
 reality, interfere with your happiness — you 
 have everything you want. Nothing can 
 be handsomer than your house and esta- 
 blishment; you have diamonds that a queen 
 might envy. What more ran you wish for ?
 
 DISPLAY. 215 
 
 Take my advice, don't look upon Aubrey's 
 ways as a serious matter — -just take the 
 whole thing as a joke." 
 
 "It is no joke, at all, Papa," said Laura, 
 discontentedly; " I assure you it makes my 
 life very uncomfortable/'— she was going to 
 say "miserable," but, on looking at her 
 father's face, she thought it would be too 
 strong a word. There was very little sym- 
 pathy, although some anxiety might be 
 discoverable on the fine countenance of 
 Mr. Malcolm. 
 
 " But, indeed, they are mere trifles, all 
 these misfortunes you take so to heart, my 
 dear child. Why make, such a fuss about 
 little things." 
 
 " Because one's life is made up of little 
 things. A woman's, perhaps, more than a 
 man's ;" observed Laura, with more justice 
 than she usually bestowed upon an argument.
 
 216 DISPLAY. 
 
 " Why, that is true enough ; but/' an- 
 swered Mr. Malcolm, beginning a little to 
 shift his ground ; " would it not be more 
 kind, more generous, not to be constantly 
 taking notice of trifles. It see"ms as if one 
 was always on the watch for people's faults. 
 I think you would manage better if you did 
 not appear to observe them." 
 
 " I am sure, I should not take the trou- 
 ble, if they did not continually annoy me," 
 answered Laura, haughtily ; " but I really 
 must have some money. It is too bad not 
 to have even half-a-crown to give to a 
 beggar." 
 
 " Oh ! as to that," replied Mr. Malcolm, 
 carelessly, " it must be a mere oversight on 
 the part of Aubrey, that you have not 
 received your allowance. You have only to 
 ask him for it." 
 
 " Indeed, I shall do no such thing, Papa,"
 
 DISPLAY. 217 
 
 replied Laura, sharply. "Can't you ask 
 him for me — or rather, don't ask it as a 
 favour — -just tell him I want it." 
 
 " My meddling about money affairs would 
 be highly injudicious," said Mr. Malcolm, 
 very decidedly. 
 
 " But, cant the lawyer's pay it to me? 
 It would be no object to them to stint me 
 in every thing." 
 
 " My dear Laura, how you talk ! You 
 will spoil everything, if you are so im- 
 petuous. Why, you are as bad as when 
 vou were a child." 
 
 " I have never had any one to deal with 
 before, except you, Papa," said Laura, 
 affectionately, and, as she looked up in his 
 face, her beautiful dark eyes filled with 
 tears. Mr. Malcolm hastily pressed her 
 arm to his side, but he said nothing, for he 
 had just stopped to admire a whole grove
 
 21 R DISPLAY. 
 
 of magnolias which ornamented a little 
 grassy knoll in the pleasure-ground, and 
 were conspicuous in the wintry scene by 
 the brilliancy of their foliage. 
 
 " Well, papa," continued Laura, after a 
 moment's pause, " if you won't speak about 
 the money, you might at least help me to 
 get rid of that odious Mrs. Pringle." 
 
 " There again, Laura," said Mr. Malcolm, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Now don't laugh, papa — if you knew 
 what a torment she is — you must think so 
 yourself — I know you do." 
 
 "Indeed, Laura, I never think about her. 
 What does it signify, whether that old wo- 
 man is knitting her crochet- work in a corner 
 or not. I am sure she is never in your 
 way." 
 
 " Oh ! yes she is though," replied Laura, 
 " she is eternally counteracting mo indi-
 
 DISPLAY. 219 
 
 rectly in small things. 1 can trace her in- 
 fluence everywhere." 
 
 " But she is not a disagreeable woman," 
 observed Mr. Malcolm, in a palliating man 
 ner ; " I should say she was rather a kind- 
 hearted person. And after all, Laura, you 
 don't appear to see much of her, though she 
 is in the same house." 
 
 " Well, no, 1 can't say I do, except at 
 dinner time ; but it is her eternal watching 
 that I can't endure. When she puts down 
 her head and looks at me over her spectacles. 
 I feel as if the eyes of a basilisk were on 
 me. I don't so much mind it here, the 
 house is so large ; but when we go to Lon- 
 don it will be dreadful ; it will drive me 
 distracted, I know." 
 
 " Are you quite sure she means to go ?" 
 asked Mr. Malcolm, musingly. 
 
 " No, I know nothing at all about it," re-
 
 220 DISPLAY. 
 
 plied his giddy daughter ; "I have never 
 troubled myself to inquire. I am sure 
 1 shall not invite her, whatever Aubrey 
 may do." 
 
 " I think I may be of more use to you 
 in this, Laura, than about the money — I will 
 think about it ; we have plenty of time be- 
 fore us until we settle in town." 
 
 " Plenty, indeed," said Laura, with a 
 sigh. " I wish Easter was come." 
 
 " Don't be so stupid, child," said Mr. 
 Malcolm, laughing; "but amuse yourself 
 where you are." 
 
 " Ah ! it's very well for you to talk, 
 papa ; but what am I to do when you and 
 Genevieve are gone ?" 
 
 "Teach the school- children to knit stock- 
 ings and read the Bible," answered Mr. 
 Malcolm, in the same manner. 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! but Miss Wilson does
 
 DISPLAY. 221 
 
 that. But, at all events, dear, good papa," 
 said Laura, playfully, " you won't forget to 
 try and liberate me from that old Pringle, 
 in London. Now, only fancy her and her 
 coal-scuttle black bonnet in my barouche in 
 the Park." 
 
 " She is certainly not ornamental," 
 said Mr. Malcolm, laughing; "but dc 
 try and behave decently to her here, 
 Laura, and I will see what I can do for 
 you." 
 
 " Oh ! thank you, thank you, dear papa," 
 cried Laura, joyfully ; " but how will you set 
 about it. There will not be the least use in 
 speaking to Aubrey." 
 
 " I thought of enlisting Dr. Radcliffe on 
 our side," replied Mr. Malcolm. " He is 
 all-powerful with the old lady." 
 
 " An excellent plan, dear papa," an- 
 swered Laura, atter a moment's pause.
 
 222 DISPLAY. 
 
 "But mind, you don't speak to him till after 
 dinner. And now let us go in, for it is just 
 beginning to rain."
 
 DISPLAY. 223 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Never since the far-famed Sycamore 
 Lodge had become the cherished abode of 
 the no less celebrated Mrs. Somersett Brown, 
 had such a complete revolution taken place 
 within its walls, as upon the fortnight before 
 the day which Mr. Malcolm had fixed for 
 his visit. He expected to be obliged bo 
 run up to town, and for reasons of his own. 
 had very unexpectedly to her, accepted the 
 pressing invitation which she had given 
 him on the eventful morning, when they had 
 met upon the railroad. 
 
 These reasons were not very flattering to
 
 224 DISPLAY. 
 
 the mistress of the house, as they were 
 solely of an electioneering nature, but of 
 this fact Mrs. Somersett Brown was com- 
 pletely ignorant, as she had never been in- 
 formed of the ambition of her expected 
 visitor to attain a place in the senate of his 
 country. Mr. Malcolm, however, fully alive 
 to his own interests, was perfectly aware 
 that the very small landed property of Mr. 
 Somersett Brown, consisting of half a dozen 
 houses, was situated within the boundaries 
 of the county he so much longed to repre- 
 sent, and gave to its owner the advantage 
 of several votes. 
 
 He was also perfectly aware that although 
 Mr. Somersett Brown was an ultra liberal, 
 Mrs. Somersett Brown loudly professed the 
 highest Tory principles. The young ladies, 
 he concluded, followed the example of their 
 mother, and therefore it was to the female
 
 DISPLAY. 225 
 
 part of the family that he trusted for the 
 ultimate propitiation of the higher power. 
 
 All this was a secret from Mrs. Somersett 
 Brown, who of course ascribed entirely to 
 her own attractions and consequence, the 
 empressement with which Mr. Malcolm had 
 extricated her from her embarrassing posi- 
 tion at the Vermont station, and accepted 
 the hospitable offers with which she had 
 immediately overwhelmed him. 
 
 The hospitality, however, was likely to 
 cost her dear. A stranger who had listened 
 to her careless, and apparently warm-hearted 
 invitation, might have possibly believed that 
 she was speaking the truth, when she de- 
 clared with the utmost semblance of veracity, 
 " That it was not putting her out of her way 
 in the least, their house was not large, but 
 they had always a spare room for a friend, a 
 — charming room overlooking the garden." 
 
 VOL. I. q
 
 226 DISPLAY. 
 
 But there was not one word of truth in 
 the whole matter. She had no spare room 
 at all. The house consisted of two small 
 rooms on the ground floor, opening into 
 each other, and which were used as a dining- 
 room; two of the same dimensions above, 
 served the purposes of drawing-room ; and 
 on one side, up three or four steps, was a 
 single room, of very miniature dimensions, 
 which was the dormitorv of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Somersett Brown. The two girls slept in 
 an attic next to the maids; and the servant 
 boy, who also drove the fly, was crammed 
 into some nook fitted up over the stable — 
 Mrs. Somersett Brown, now and then, hired 
 a fly for a month, although she talked loudly 
 all the year round of " her carriages and 
 horses." 
 
 It may be imagined the consternation with 
 which Mr. Somersett Brown had overheard
 
 DISPLAY. 227 
 
 the acceptance of the civilities of his wife 
 by Mr. Malcolm, as she talked, without 
 intermission, during the whole hour he re- 
 mained in the train. The rattling of the 
 carriage prevented the luckless owner of 
 the house from hearing every word, but he 
 knew — he felt enough to convince him, that 
 Mr. Malcolm had acquiesced in the proposal, 
 that he was coming to Sycamore Lodge, and 
 he also knew that there was no room for him. 
 This was a pleasant prospect. Any one 
 else might have been tempted to have told 
 the truth, but to this effort Mr. Somersett 
 Brown was unequal. He stood too much in 
 awe of his wife, and was actually obliged, 
 when the train stopped at the Burnham sta- 
 tion, to shake his new acquaintance by the 
 hand, and re-echo the invitation given by his 
 wife, although with the consciousness of its 
 hollowness weighing down his heart. 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 DISPLAY 
 
 His teeth chattered as he said the words, 
 but it was done, and he trusted to the well- 
 known ingenuity of his better half to extri- 
 cate him from his dilemma. 
 
 To his great surprise, however, he found 
 her implacably obdurate upon this point. 
 She firmly declared she would do nothing 
 towards annulling the invitation she had 
 given. All her usual devices — for it was a 
 common trick with her to ask a number of 
 people to dinner, and then put them off — 
 were by turns suggested to her, but she 
 scorned them all. 
 
 To Sycamore Lodge, therefore, Mr. Mal- 
 colm must come. And so, the moment they 
 arrived at home, the note of preparation 
 was sounded, and the whole house turned 
 upside down. Everybody seemed to push out 
 the person before him or her ; Mr. and Mrs. 
 Somersett Brown took possession of the
 
 DISPLAY. 229 
 
 attic hitherto occupied by their daughters. 
 The young ladies went into the maids' room; 
 the maids were transferred to the nook over 
 the stable, and the unfortunate servant boy 
 was turned into the lane to find a lodging 
 where he best might. 
 
 But with the change of apartments, the 
 troubles of the household were by no means 
 ended. The room thus forcibly cleared for 
 the arrival of the illustrious guest was not 
 fit to be seen. No one ever had seen it. 
 Of that, Mrs. Somersett Brown took excel- 
 lent care, for on her " Wednesdays " all the 
 useless doors were carefully locked, and the 
 keys deposited in her own writing-desk. 
 
 The fact was, that the upper part of the 
 house was a perfect pig-stye. This fact, 
 although it might be concealed from the 
 ••Wednesday" visitors, could not possibly 
 escape the notice of one condemned to test
 
 230 DISPLAY. 
 
 its existence by his own experience. The 
 penurious habits of Mrs. Somersett Brown 
 must undergo a most terrible shock. Paint, 
 paper, carpets, and the whole furniture of 
 the bed-room, were evils which no inge- 
 nuity on her part could now possibly avert. 
 Strangers to this dirty and ill-regulated 
 abode, they must be forthwith invited to 
 meet the stranger guest. 
 
 All this would cost money, and money, 
 next to that which she called " society," 
 was the idol of the capacious heart of Mrs. 
 Somersett Brown. The expense was in- 
 evitable. It must either be incurred, or 
 the visitor must be put off; and the idea of 
 this dreadful alternative was never for a mo- 
 ment entertained by the female part of the 
 family. 
 
 With considerable alacrity each individual 
 tendered her aid towards reducing things
 
 ^ DISPLAY. 231 
 
 to some degree of order and propriety. 
 This was no easy matter. The dust of 
 ages seemed to have accumulated in every 
 corner, and the allowance of room was so 
 scanty, that it appeared perfectly impossible 
 to hide from view the heterogeneous mass pro- 
 duced by the collected treasures of the family. 
 There was one cupboard under the stairs, 
 two or three more at the top and bottom of 
 the house ; and these, with an empty cellar, 
 aud an unoccupied stall in the stable, was 
 all the room the premises afforded. There 
 was no help for it. Everything must be 
 crammed into every hole and corner that 
 could be made available, and to the great 
 detriment of bonnets and gowns, and all 
 the perishable part of female paraphernalia, 
 this was at last effected ; and, for the first 
 time, the symptoms of outlay and repair 
 made their appearance at Sycamore Lodge.
 
 232 DISPLAY. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 It must not be, however, supposed that 
 Mrs. Somersett Brown was left quite alone 
 to support the whole weight of the meta- 
 morphosis which was taking place in her 
 dwelling. It would be doing grievous in- 
 justice to the two young ladies, who gene- 
 rally so willingly, if not ably, seconded the 
 efforts of their mother. 
 
 The two sisters, however, were very dif- 
 ferent. Sophia, the eldest, and the favourite 
 of her mother, was the most innate in- 
 triguante that had ever existed. In one re-
 
 DISPLAY. 233 
 
 spect only she differed from her mamina. 
 While Mrs. Somerset! Brown pursued tin- 
 whole world, from the highest to the lowest 
 of her acquaintance, with a view of main- 
 taining or advancing her position — Sophia, 
 no less eager in pursuit, had a totally dif- 
 ferent object. 
 
 A great marriage had ever been her 
 thought by day, and dream by night ; and, 
 to effect this, no means, however indelicate 
 and improper, were left untried. She had 
 succeeded so far in persuading her mother 
 that it was for the advancement of their 
 mutual views that she should be permitted 
 to carry on her schemes alone, whenever 
 a necessity presented itself which gave 
 hopes of success, that she had acquired a 
 degree of liberty of which even the worldly- 
 minded Mrs. Somersett Brown could not 
 approve. But so craving was her own desire
 
 234 DISPLAY. 
 
 for connection and acquaintance, that she 
 hesitated to throw any obstacle in the way 
 of attaining her heart's ambition through 
 the means of her daughter. 
 
 Miss Somersett Brown, therefore, adopted 
 a line quite unheard of in the annals of 
 well-conducted girls. She not only, in every 
 manner she could devise, went out with- 
 out her mother, but actually contrived — 
 small as was the house — to have a sitting- 
 room to herself, in which she received as 
 many visitors as she chose. 
 
 This she accomplished by closing the 
 doors of one of the lower rooms which 
 formed the dining-room, and passing the 
 whole day alone. On pain of her eternal 
 displeasure, no one ever ventured to enter 
 that room until the dinner-hour liberated it 
 from its occupant. 
 
 Here, the fair Sophia regularly spent
 
 DISPLAY. 235 
 
 her mornings, either endeavouring to foster 
 into maturity some one of the many incipient 
 flirtations she had established, or in keeping 
 up a sentimental correspondence with all 
 the most promising of her absent admirers. 
 
 Writing letters to gentlemen who were no 
 relations to her, had somewhat startled the 
 ideas of propriety which Mrs. Somersett 
 Brown professed ; but she was, as usual, 
 over-ruled by the persuasions of her daugh- 
 ter, that " it was all for the advantage of 
 the -family that she should succeed." 
 
 She was somewhat puzzled to understand 
 how this could be effected, by the discovery, 
 that many of the attendants and corres- 
 pondents of Sophia were married men ; but 
 to this fact she wisely shut her eyes ; for 
 she had suffered the evil to grow to such a 
 height, that it had become almost an impos- 
 sibilitv to check it.
 
 23f) DISPLAY. 
 
 It may be imagined that this mode of life 
 did not tend much to establish a reputation 
 for propriety and decorum for the young 
 lady. At first, people were indulgent ; but 
 when season after season passed over, and 
 that each succeeding one was enlivened by 
 some tale still more scandalous than its pre- 
 decessor, of the conduct of Sophia Brown, 
 the censorious world no longer measured its 
 remarks. 
 
 Such flagrant breaches of all conventional 
 rules could not be overlooked. The exam- 
 ple to others of the same age was most per- 
 nicious — in self-defence, it could not with 
 impunity be allowed to pass over in si- 
 lence ; and the consequence was, that in a 
 few years the character of Miss Somersett 
 Brown was irretrievably gone. 
 
 It would be endless to enumerate the 
 variety of schemes which were set on foot,
 
 DISPLAY. 237 
 
 and carried on by this industrious young 
 lady. It suffices to say, that hitherto they 
 had all totally failed. Perhaps this might, 
 in some degree, be accounted for by the few 
 personal attractions she possessed — She 
 could scarcely be called good-looking — Her 
 figure was short, her face broad, and her 
 waist squeezed to the dimensions of a wasp. 
 She had light hair, and light grey eyes, with 
 a very cunning expression. It was amus- 
 ing enough to watch those eyes when she 
 was not aware of the scrutiny ; they twin- 
 kled and twisted in every direction ; and 
 while speaking to one person they could 
 follow the movements of every man in the 
 room, whether he was an acquaintance or 
 not. 
 
 She was eternally on the watch ; but for 
 what purpose, did not always exactly ap- 
 pear. Heart-breaking — to any one who
 
 238 DISPLAY. 
 
 had a heart — would have been the adven- 
 tures and mischances which constantly befel 
 her; for many times she had, apparently, 
 been on the point of succeeding in her de- 
 signs, but one by one, all retreated as they 
 had come, and the history of another '-''ma- 
 nage manque" went forth to gladden the 
 scandal-mongers, and pacify decorous old 
 maids. 
 
 To any one of less astounding energies 
 than Mrs. Somersett Brown, these repeated 
 failures would have brought sorrow, if not 
 despair ; but Mrs. Somersett Brown neither 
 1 sat down and wept,' nor chided her daugh- 
 ter for the impropriety of her ways. She 
 had gone too far — and so implicated herself 
 in all the schemes of Sophia, that she could 
 not risk the destruction of her own innu- 
 merable plots and plans, by an open rupture 
 with her daughter.
 
 DISPLAY. 239 
 
 Shutting her eyes, therefore, to her scan- 
 dalous behaviour, and her ears to the com- 
 ments that were made upon it, she went 
 hand in hand with her daughter — aiding 
 and abetting in every device that held out 
 the most remote probability of success. 
 
 No allies could be firmer, and the fan 
 Sophia would Dot always have found it easy 
 to persevere unchecked in her course, with- 
 out so vigilant a guardian of her interests ; 
 for her father was by no means so utterly 
 devoid of common sense, as not to perceive 
 that the course of life adopted by his eldest 
 daughter was utterly at variance with that 
 which he remembered as customary in the 
 days of his youth. 
 
 It required no small ingenuity, first to 
 persuade him of the efficacy of the plans 
 laid down, and next to keep from his ears 
 the very well-merited censure with which
 
 240 DISPLAY. 
 
 the conduct of his daughter was visited by 
 the world. As, of course, a father's feelings 
 elicited some respect, even from the most 
 scandal -loving, it ended in Mr. Somersett 
 Brown being very tolerably ignorant of most 
 that was going on ; and his habits of sub- 
 mission were now so well-established, that 
 they had become a second nature to him. 
 He had, besides, grown indolent and fat ; 
 and — provided he had his book and his 
 newspaper, and was entertained at dinner 
 with all the news of the day — he did not 
 care much what was passing around him, 
 and staid quietly in the little back drawing- 
 room, where he was carefully shut in. 
 
 If, however, Mrs. Somersett Brown had 
 succeeded in thus forming an alliance, offen- 
 sive and defensive, with her eldest daugh- 
 ter, she was not quite so fortunate with 
 Meliora — for so the second was called.
 
 DISPLAY. 241 
 
 Although possessing many of the quali- 
 ties which adorned her mother and sister. 
 Miss Meliora Brown was gifted with others 
 which formed a strange contradiction in her 
 character. There was an uncertainty in 
 her temper which constantly militated even 
 against her own designs. She had full as 
 great a longing as that by which Sophia was 
 possessed, to make what is called i a great 
 match ;' and, had the means been at her 
 command, she would probably have unhesi- 
 tatingly adopted the same course ; but 
 Sophia, having taken possession of the 
 ground, rendered this impossible. 
 
 There was not room in the house for two 
 such parts to be enacted. Meliora there- 
 fore started in a different line ; she was 
 pensive and retiring, pretended an utter 
 aversion to the gaieties of the world, al- 
 though she always allowed herself to be 
 
 VOL. J. R
 
 242 DISPLAY. 
 
 dragged into them ; and read book^ and gave 
 her opinion on their authors, in the hope of 
 being supposed to be devoted to literature. 
 
 This was merely in opposition to her sister, 
 who thought it was pretty to affect idleness, 
 incapacity for study, and a perfect horror 
 of anything approaching to a learned lady. 
 
 These peculiarities in the nature of the 
 gentle Meliora, although of little conse- 
 quence in themselves, were, sometimes, 
 rather formidable impediments to the ma- 
 chinations of her mother and sister, and to 
 add to the entanglements of both, and the 
 comforts of Sycamore Lodge, a current of 
 underhand opposition was an evil with which 
 they were constantly threatened. 
 
 Meliora might not have been so ill-natured 
 a person, had she from the first enjoyed all 
 the advantages and amusements of life 
 equally with her sister ; but as the hopes
 
 DISPLAY. 243 
 
 of Mrs. Somersett Brown were specially 
 founded upon the superior tact and clever- 
 ness which she ascribed to her eldest daugh- 
 ter, she very incautiously betrayed a pre- 
 ference for her which laid the foundation of 
 an inveterate jealousy in the heart of the 
 younger. 
 
 Feeling herself always in the way, Meliora 
 became sulky, and resolved that if they 
 would not have her, they should not be able 
 to do without her. She therefore made it a 
 point to be as unaccommodating as possible. 
 If her mother or sister wanted her to go 
 out with them, she was sure to find some 
 positive necessity for staying at home, and 
 if she could by any means discover that it 
 was an object to them that she should re- 
 main in the house, she would clamorously 
 assert her right of being included in their 
 plans of amusement. 
 
 r2
 
 244 DISPLAY. 
 
 There was, however, one good result from 
 this state of petty warfare. Amid all the 
 adventures and tales of scandal which every 
 where followed the name of Sophia Brown, 
 the character of Meliora remained unscathed. 
 
 In order the more to annoy her sister, 
 she affected the most rigid prudery. The 
 plainness of her appearance, not to say ugli- 
 ness, was such, that it appeared little likely 
 she should be tempted to deviate from the 
 strict rules of propriety she so loudly advo- 
 cated. She was short and thick, with 
 coarse features, dull, light hair, a swarthy 
 complexion, and her mouth drawn down at 
 the corners, exactly like her mother's. 
 
 In comparison with her sister, Sophia 
 might certainly pass for a beauty. And 
 yet with so few recommendations, Meliora 
 spent her life in the full persuasion that 
 one day or another she should succeed in
 
 DISPLAY. 245 
 
 making a very brilliant match. Poor girl, 
 it was well that she could find some comfort 
 in her own ideas. 
 
 This chimera of her brain, however, pro- 
 duced an effect, that was ultimately bene- 
 ficial to the soaring views of Mrs. Somersett 
 Brown and her daughter Sophia. Fearful 
 of counteracting her own hopes, Meliora 
 studied her part, and never threw any oppo- 
 tion in the way when she saw it might be 
 detrimental to her own views. She gene- 
 rally, therefore, confined the exercise of 
 her powers of tormenting, to small things, 
 and as abundant opportunities offered, her 
 presence was not likely to be forgotten. 
 
 Such were the two young ladies who 
 graced the sylvan shades of Sycamore 
 Lodge. The example of Mrs. Somersett 
 Brown had certainly not been thrown away 
 upon her daughters.
 
 246 DISPLAY. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 •• Well, I do hope that every thing is nearly 
 ready now," said Mrs Somersett Brown, as 
 she came into the drawing-room at Syca- 
 more Lodge, just before dinner was an- 
 nounced. It wanted two days to the anx- 
 iously looked for Monday when Mr. Malcolm 
 was expected. 
 
 " The workmen are gone," replied Sophia. 
 " but the smell of the paint is intolerable — 
 I don't know how we shall ever get it out." 
 
 " Oh, it will go of itself. I dare say to-
 
 DISPLAY. 247 
 
 morrow we shall not perceive it," answered 
 Mrs. Somersett Brown. "It is the new 
 kind of paint. Barton assures me it is per- 
 fectly inodorous " 
 
 " It does not seem much like it/' observed 
 Meliora ; "it kept me awake all night, the 
 smell was so horrid. ' 
 
 "It can't be helped," said her mother, 
 drily. 
 
 " Yes, but it won't do us much good to 
 make a person sick by putting him in a 
 new painted room," persisted Meliora; 
 "he will hate the name of the place for 
 ever." 
 
 "Then, what is to be done, pray?" said 
 Mrs. Somersett Brown — " It was absolutely 
 necessary to paint the room, and Barton did 
 it remarkably cheap for me." 
 
 " Yes, and he has used bad paint, I will 
 answer for it," said Meliora. " It will never
 
 248 DISPLAY. 
 
 dry. You will find it just as bad a month 
 hence — I am certain of it." 
 
 " Then, what is to be done ? I ask again," 
 exclaimed Mrs. Somersett Brown, angrily, 
 and looking from one to the other of her 
 daughters. 
 
 " I know what I should do/' replied Me- 
 liora, with a decided air. 
 
 " And pray, what would you do ?" asked 
 Sophia, contemptuously. 
 
 " Put off Mr. Malcolm," replied Meliora, 
 quietly, but perfectly aware it was just the 
 suggestion the most disagreeable possible to 
 her hearers. 
 
 "Put off Mr. Malcolm!" repeated Mrs. 
 Somersett Brown, with a look of amazement 
 that was ludicrous. 
 
 " Put off Mr. Malcolm," echoed Sophia, 
 with a smile of disdain; "that would be 
 clever indeed."
 
 DISPLAY. 249 
 
 " Why, he could come just as well any 
 other time, and the smell of the paint would be 
 gone/' said Meliora, with a very innocent air. 
 
 "It would be madness," observed her 
 mother, with a meaning look at Sophia. 
 
 " He would never come at all," was the 
 hurried rejoinder of the latter. 
 
 "I wonder he does come, I am sure," 
 persisted Meliora. " I can't think what 
 should bring him to the country this time 
 of year, and in such weather too. The 
 garden was under water last night, and the 
 drain is overflowed again. It will never 
 get dry now by Monday." 
 
 Oh ! that is nothing, no one goes into a 
 garden in winter, and besides, we can make 
 some excuse for staying in the house," an- 
 swered Mrs. Somersett Brown. 
 
 " The house is just as bad, mamma," con- 
 tinued Meliora.
 
 250 DISPLAY. 
 
 " Our new room up stairs is so damp, that 
 it has taken every bit of stiffness out of my 
 tarlatane gown. It is not fit to wear." 
 
 "It must be worn as it is/' said her 
 mother, shortly ; "I shall buy no new 
 things. I am nearly ruined with Mr. 
 Barton's bill. 
 
 " I can't think how the maids contrived 
 to catch such colds, all in a minute; I 
 thought that room over the stable was so 
 warm." 
 
 " I suppose now we shall have the cook 
 laid up, and no dinner when Mr. Malcolm 
 is here," said the consoling Meliora. 
 
 " Oh, no danger of that," said Mrs. 
 Somersett Brown, cheerfully. " I am much 
 more afraid of his finding out that his room 
 has been all new furnished ; it would look 
 so bad, just as if we had nothing decent in 
 the house." And Mrs. Brown glanced com-
 
 DISPLAY. 251 
 
 placently at the red clainask sofas in the 
 drawing-room, the result of many months of 
 starvation and contrivance. 
 
 " I don't see how he is to find that out, 
 except by the smell of the paint ; for all the 
 furniture is second-hand," replied Meliora. 
 
 " But mamma," exclaimed Sophia, with- 
 out condescending to notice the observation 
 of her sister — "What are we to do about 
 people ? who can we have to meet him ?" 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," said Mrs. 
 Somersett Brown, frankly ; " but I dare say 
 we shall find some one." 
 
 " Considering we have already tried fifty 
 four people, and had nothing but excuses, I 
 don't see much chance of it," said Meliora; 
 " I am quite tired of writing notes." 
 
 " Oh ! we must make out some reason 
 for being alone," replied her mother. 
 
 " Why not put on black gowns, and call
 
 252 DISPLAY. 
 
 it family mourning; he will never inquire, 
 and that is an excuse for anything," sug- 
 gested Sophia, who imagined she looked 
 well in black. 
 
 " Indeed I shall do no such thing/' re- 
 plied her sister ; " my violet wreath is 
 turned quite red from the damp of that cup- 
 board under the stairs, and I have nothing 
 else to put on my head for mourning." 
 
 " Oh ! anything will do. A white rose 
 — you know you have one in your bonnet. 
 You only want to make difficulties, Meliora ; 
 anything will do/' suggested the amiable 
 Sophia. 
 
 " Oh ! anything will do for me, I have no 
 doubt," replied Meliora, sharply; "but I 
 shall certainly not put on black — you can 
 go into as deep mourning as you please." 
 
 " I am sure I might for your good man- 
 ners, Meliora," said Sophia, drawing herself
 
 DISPLAY. 253 
 
 up with an attempt at dignity. " You get 
 more cross and ill-natured every day." 
 
 " I don't act a part, and pretend to be 
 amiable and pleasing, and overflowing with 
 kindness, and fine feelings, and all that sort 
 of deceit ;" said Meliora, with a sneer ; but 
 Sophia merely made a movement with her 
 shoulders, which she intended to be very 
 expressive, and, turning to her mother, con- 
 tinued — 
 
 " But, after all, Mamma, what are we to 
 do for people — we have only two days now." 
 
 "Can't you suggest somebody? All 
 those I wanted the most, have refused," was 
 the satisfactory reply. 
 
 " Three people would do. The table 
 could not hold more," suggested Sophia, 
 whose ambition was a dinner party. 
 
 " That is, if they came to dinner," re- 
 plied her mother; " but I have not the
 
 254 DISPLAY. 
 
 least intention of having them. You never 
 think of the expense, Sophia. I should 
 have to get another servant to wait, and all 
 that eating and drinking would ruin me. 
 No one can come to dinner here. 
 
 " Then they will never come at all," 
 bluntly observed Meliora. 
 
 " Oh, yes, they will, plenty of them," 
 replied Mrs. Somersett Brown. " There is 
 Mrs. Craggs, who would go anywhere to 
 save her own fire and candles. She would 
 come." 
 
 " A horrid squinting old woman — all bad 
 rouge and dirty feathers," cried Meliora. 
 
 " Then there is her toady, who she will be 
 sure to want to bring, for she can get no 
 one else — the Marquise de Bourrique, 
 as she calls herself. The woman that wrote 
 that trumpery book about Poland, last year," 
 said her mother.
 
 DISPLAY. 255 
 
 " Still worse," observed Sophia, with a 
 laugh. " A tailor's daughter — an upstart 
 animal — educated for the stage, and with- 
 out talents to act even a waiting-maid's 
 part. As to her book, it was the most vul- 
 gar thing I ever read — the only bits that 
 were readable, were all copied out of others. 
 Do you remember how Thornton and Syd- 
 ney cut it up here one night, and showed 
 us the very passages, in the Guide Books 
 and Carrusa's Travels? And, besides," 
 added Sophia, as if the idea were an after- 
 thought, " she is so very improper. You 
 know it was by the greatest possible luck 
 she at last got married to that editor of a 
 newspaper. She has had no end of adven- 
 tures. Nothing can be worse or lower." 
 
 " Oh ! low enough, I allow," said Mrs. 
 Somersett Brown, with a toss of her head — 
 " and improper enough, too. I merely
 
 256 DISPLAY. 
 
 thought of her to fill up, just at this time of 
 year. I shouldn't think of producing her 
 at ' my Wednesdays ' — I flatter myself they 
 are too select for that." 
 
 " Why not ask Lady Armitage ?" sug- 
 gested Meliora. 
 
 " Certainly not/' replied Sophia, de- 
 cidedly ; " we don't want women with 
 daughters. Fanny Armitage is the greatest 
 flirt I know." 
 
 " And the prettiest girl in London," said 
 Meliora, with a spiteful look at Sophia. 
 
 " I know who would just do, if she is still 
 in town," exclaimed Mrs. Somersett Brown. 
 " Miss Boyd, the girl that sings-" 
 
 " Yes — but we should have to send the 
 carriage for her, and Thomas can't be 
 spared," replied Sophia, who had no very par- 
 ticular desire that the fine voice of Miss Boyd 
 should be heard by their expected visitor.
 
 DISPLAY. 257 
 
 "Well, then, the Miss Carwells — they 
 sing nearly as well. We shall want a little 
 music. Meliora, you had better write to 
 them at once," said Mrs. Somersett Brown, 
 decidedly. 
 
 " They are ugly enough, at all events,'' 
 said Meliora, coolly, as she rose to obey the 
 commands of her mother. 
 
 " Pray," said Mr. Somersett Brown, as 
 he opened the drawing-room door, " are we 
 to have any dinner to-day ? I have been 
 sitting in that confounded attic until I am 
 half frozen. I shall have a fit of the gout 
 to-morrow." 
 
 His entrance put a stop to the conversa- 
 tion, and in a few minutes, dinner being an- 
 nounced, the thoughts of Mrs. Somersett 
 Brown were temporarily withdrawn from 
 her troubles. 
 
 vol. i. s
 
 258 DISPLAY. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Monday came, Mr. Malcolm arrived, and 
 all the three ladies of Sycamore Lodge 
 assumed their respective parts. Mrs. So- 
 mersett Brown concealed her endless con- 
 trivances and agony least a farthing should be 
 wasted, under an easy, careless manner, that 
 spoke affluence and freedom from anxiety. 
 Sophia put on the little joyous, simple ways 
 of a child, who could not have understood 
 the word " design ;" and Meliora was the 
 tender and devoted slave of the family — 
 only living for the happiness of her mother 
 and sister.
 
 DISPLAY. 259 
 
 This being " their first appearance upon 
 the stage" before their visitor, the perfection 
 of their acting so far succeeded as to pro- 
 duce a doubt in the mind of Mr. Malcolm 
 that they could be the same people of whom 
 he had heard so many wonderful stories. It 
 was only a doubt ; for, consummate actor as 
 he was himself, he knew how much might be 
 done in that way. 
 
 At all events, whatever might be the 
 cause, the effect was to render his visit 
 much less irksome than he had expected ; 
 and although the house smelt horribly of 
 paint — that his bed was much too short for 
 him — and that Thomas, the factotum, who 
 drove the fly and waited at table, spoilt his 
 coat by throwing pea-soup over him at din- 
 ner — he contrived to get through the first 
 day of his visit extremely well. 
 
 Mrs. Somersett Brown had managed to 
 
 s 2
 
 260 DISPLAY. 
 
 prevent his seeing the mud-pools in the gar- 
 den, by carrying him off " in her carriage/ 7 
 to look at a beautiful country-house in the 
 neighbourhood, which she said she was 
 thinking of taking, although she had not the 
 slightest idea of it ; and Sophia contrived to 
 inveigle him into her morning room, where, 
 crouched upon a low footstool by his side, 
 she had rehearsed the first chapter of her 
 innocent prattlings with her utmost fascina- 
 tion. 
 
 Sophia, however, was not so completely 
 au fait in her part as to be able to con- 
 ceal entirely the very great effect which 
 the presence of the handsome stranger pro- 
 duced upon her ; and her admiring eyes told 
 a different tale from her childish words. 
 
 A man like Mr. Malcolm, so accustomed 
 to be sought after, flattered, and courted, 
 was not likely to be obtuse enough not to
 
 DISPLAY. 2<j1 
 
 perceive the impression he had created, and 
 ever ready to adapt himself to every cir- 
 cumstance that might conduce to his bene- 
 fit, he did not hesitate to enter into all the 
 little griefs and innocent desires of the fair 
 Sophia, and vow eternal friendship to his 
 charming new acquaintance, 
 
 Sophia always began with friendship : it 
 sanctioned little services, which entailed the 
 writing of notes, the notes grew up into 
 letters, and a regular correspondence, well 
 managed, and carried on with spirit, "who 
 could tell where it might end?" 
 
 Misgivings of that "end" certainly did 
 cross the mind of Mr. Malcolm, as he sat 
 upon the sofa by the fire, in the half-dark- 
 ened retreat of Miss Somersett Brown, and 
 more than once, as she looked sweetly up in 
 his face, he contrasted her with his own dear 
 child at home — his frank, fresh, noble-
 
 262 DISPLAY. 
 
 hearted Genevieve. His doubts of the im- 
 maculate Sophia were not diminished by the 
 comparison; but he had too many matters 
 of importance upon his mind at that mo- 
 ment to give her character any very serious 
 consideration. 
 
 One whole day remained of his visit, and 
 Mrs. Somersett Brown was at her wit's end 
 to find employment for her guest which 
 should occupy all the morning. He would, 
 if left alone, infallibly stray into the garden ; 
 and its hideous state of dirt and untidiness 
 would not prejudice him much in favour of 
 " her Wednesdays," which she eternally held 
 out as the most attractive feature in the 
 programme of the next season's amusements. 
 
 Happily, what all her manoeuvres might 
 have failed to accomplish, was brought about 
 by the most simple fact imaginable, and 
 easily to have been anticipated in the mid-
 
 DISPLAY. 263 
 
 die of February. A heavy shower of sleet 
 and snow set in while breakfast was on the 
 table, and, together with a bitter east wind, 
 did not make the day very tempting for an 
 excursion in a fly. 
 
 What a relief to the agitated nerves of 
 the mistress of Sycamore Lodge ! She had 
 been all night trying to devise some party of 
 pleasure for the day, and even meditated a 
 drive into town " to see something " though 
 there was nothing to see except Madame 
 Tussaud's exhibition. How delighted she 
 was when she suddenly found herself extri- 
 cated from her dilemma ! Every flake of 
 snow that fell,!warmed her heart. Her only 
 terror was least they should cease before 
 they had formed an impervious concealment 
 to her garden. 
 
 " Dear me !" she exclaimed, rising from 
 the breakfast table, and going to the window;
 
 264 DISPLAY. 
 
 u how very provoking this snow is ! I 
 wanted so much to have got out, and shown 
 you my garden, Mr. Malcolm." 
 
 " I should like it extremely, if you are 
 not afraid to venture," said Mr. Malcolm, 
 civilly, but with a rueful look at the 
 weather. 
 
 " You have seen nothing of our grounds 
 yet. Everything was just begining to look 
 so green. — The crocuses are coming out 
 too. Really this is a most enjoyable place." 
 
 And Mrs. Somersett Brown, rested her 
 eyes lovingly on the three scraggy Sycamore 
 trees in the middle of the garden, which 
 had given their name to the lodge. 
 
 " Oh, mamma, pray do not go out to- 
 day," said Meliora, in the softest tone of 
 anxiety; "Mr. Malcolm, pray do not let dear 
 mamma expose herself to the cold. She 
 cannot bear the least east wind — pray make
 
 DISPLAY. 265 
 
 her stay at home. She is so devoted to her 
 flowers and garden, it makes her quite 
 imprudent." 
 
 " I am sure Mrs. Somersett Brown, will 
 listen to reason. The weather is certainly 
 not very genial for gardening/' replied Mr. 
 Malcolm, and he too, walked to the window. 
 
 " Oh ! how pretty the snow is," cried 
 Sophia, jumping up, and following him ; 
 I should like to go out and make a snow 
 ball." 
 
 " And spoil your pretty hands," said Mr. 
 Malcolm with a smile, as he glanced at the 
 little radish like fingers that Sophia hastily 
 plunged into the pockets of her embroidered 
 apron. 
 
 " Oh ! I should'nt mind that. Now do 
 look at that robin ! And I declare, there's 
 a blackbird, too ! I must give them some 
 crumbs;" and running back to the breakfast
 
 266 DISPLAY. 
 
 table, she began to gather up the broken 
 bits of bread. 
 
 " But, mamma," she exclaimed, stopping 
 short in . her occupation, as if struck by a 
 sudden idea. 
 
 v 
 
 " All the people that are coming here to- 
 night will be snowed up on the road ; what 
 shall we do, we ought to send a policeman 
 to the end of the lane." 
 
 Dexterous Sophia ! that little phrase — 
 ' all the people,' was yet more welcome to the 
 straining ear of Mrs. Somersett Brown than 
 the snow flakes to her longing eye. As 
 usual she was running her chance of finding 
 an expedient, to the last minute, and had 
 not yet ventured to hint to Mr. Malcolm 
 that the literary soiree she had announced to 
 him for that evening, in colours so glowing 
 he naturally expected, that every one cele- 
 brated for wit and talent was about to
 
 DISPLAY. 267 
 
 make an appearance, would consist merely 
 of two or three superannuated tenth-rate 
 authors and penurious dowagers, who would 
 rather go anywhere than stay at home. 
 
 These were the only persons among the 
 many, who had not declined the invitations, 
 which, for the last few weeks, Mrs. Somer- 
 sett Brown had been dispensing with a 
 lavish hand. The snow, now, was a most 
 legitimate excuse, and according as it fell 
 thicker, the courage of the ladies of Syca- 
 more Lodge mounted higher, and from in- 
 sinuations they ventured to names, and did 
 not hesitate to cite a whole catalogue of 
 very dear friends who were to have been 
 with them that evening. 
 
 To Mr. Malcolm it was a matter of very 
 little importance. He was going away the 
 next day, and he did not much care, 
 whether he had any better amusement than
 
 268 DISPLAY. 
 
 flirting with the tender Sophia for a couple 
 of hours in the dusk or not. His object 
 had been the votes of Mr. Somersett Brown, 
 and the smiles of the daughter had not 
 changed his views. The votes were still the 
 prize, for which alone he patiently endured 
 the diminutive bed, and the newly painted 
 room at Sycamore Lodge. 
 
 He had not yet spoken to Mr. Brown 
 upon the subject ; he wished first to secure 
 the good offices of the ladies of the family. 
 Had they possessed the power which he 
 ascribed to them, there would not have 
 been much doubt of their compliance with 
 his request. All three were enchanted with 
 him. They did not know which most to ad- 
 mire in him, his looks or his manners, or his 
 agreeable words. He seemed to them a 
 creature of a different sphere to those they 
 were accustomed to behold. As Meliora
 
 DISPLAY. 269 
 
 expressed herself — in the conference pri- 
 vately held with her mother and sister, in 
 the attic — "They had never seen such a 
 man before close" 
 
 It was true enough. Others of equal 
 refinement might have glided past them in 
 the great world, but no such individual had 
 ever before entered the doors of Sycamore 
 Lodge. Would he ever return ? 
 
 Meliora, of course, decided that he could 
 not. The languishing Sophia sighed and 
 hoped, and looked conscious ; and Mrs. 
 Somersett Brown, with a heart throbbing 
 with exultation, already anticipated the 
 splendid effect which the fine figure and 
 striking appearance of Mr. Malcolm would 
 produce the following season at her " Wed 
 nesdays."
 
 270 DISPLAY. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 " I really think I heard a carriage drive 
 up to the door,' 7 cried Sophia, as early after 
 dinner the small party at Sycamore Lodge 
 were assembled in the drawing-room. 
 
 "It was snowing hard a minute ago," 
 replied her father, who was not the least 
 aware of the agonized efforts that had been 
 made to collect people for that particular 
 evening. 
 
 "I do not think you could expect any 
 visitor this evening. It must be some very 
 powerful attraction which would get me out
 
 DISPLAY. 271 
 
 on such a night," said Mr. Malcolm, looking 
 at Sophia, who, in a black velvet gown ex- 
 ceedingly off her shoulders, an immense 
 white tulle scarf disposed in drapery round 
 her — but, of course, worn below her waist, 
 instead of above it — was seated, as usual, 
 on a low footstool by the fire, and looking 
 up innocently into his face. 
 
 " Still, I am sure, I heard a carriage," 
 she persisted. 
 
 " Yes, and there is a knock at the door ! 
 I dare say it is Lady Marchmont, or Lady 
 Windermere. They always come to us so 
 early," replied Mrs. Somersett Brown, care- 
 lessly. 
 
 " Two such great ladies lost in the snow, 
 in the wilds of Hampstead, what news that 
 will be for the world," said Mr. Malcolm, 
 with a smile; but the selection of names has- 
 tily made by Mrs. Somersett Brown had not
 
 272 DISPLAY. 
 
 been fortunate. Both ladies were intimate 
 friends of his, and consequently he well 
 knew were neither in town, nor likely to 
 trouble Sycamore Lodge with their presence. 
 
 A little bustle in the hall gave positive 
 tokens of an arrival, and in a few moments 
 the door was thrown open, and the voice of 
 Thomas announced in very loud tones — 
 " Mrs. Marcia Craggs, and the Marquise 
 de Bourrique." 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Craggs,'' said Mrs. 
 Somersett Brown, in her blandest tone, and 
 advancing to meet her. " This is most 
 kind of you — so friendly, coming to see us 
 poor people at the top of our hill." 
 
 " Oh, my dear Mrs. Somersett Brown," 
 replied Mrs. Craggs, in a brogue that made 
 Mr. Malcolm start and turn round in his 
 chair, " you know how zealous I am for 
 my friends, and I have brought the Marquise
 
 DISPLAY. 273 
 
 de Bourrique, who was so anxious to 
 know you — you have read her charming 
 new work, of course ; and Huntley and 
 Western are coming, so you see I have not 
 been idle." 
 
 All this was said in a very patronizing 
 way, with the broad hand of the speaker, 
 in a dirty glove, spread out on the folded 
 arms of Mrs. Somersett Brown, who stood 
 smiling before her literary friend, while 
 heartily ashamed of her, and her companion. 
 She, however, so far repressed her feelings, 
 as to be able to say a few civil words to 
 the soi disant Marquise a bold, staring 
 woman, in a tawdry dress, intended to be in 
 the French fashion; for she had been brought 
 up in France, by a Mrs. Sinclair, who had 
 nothing else to do, and took her when a 
 child, though she was of the lowest possible 
 origin. 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 DISPLAY. 
 
 The young ladies now came forward. 
 " And how do you do, fairest Sophia, and 
 my pensive Meliora ?" was the greeting of 
 the affectionate Mrs. Craggs, as holding a 
 hand in each of hers, she surveyed them 
 admiringly from head to toot, and having 
 bestowed an overpowering eulogium on their 
 good looks, Sophia retreated to her foot- 
 stool in the corner, Meliora to the tea-table, 
 and Mrs. Somersett Brown was left at 
 liberty to do the honours of her fine guest, 
 whom she introduced with all the ceremony 
 possible to her visitor. 
 
 Mrs. Marcia Craggs made a low curtsey, 
 and, sidling across the room, addressed her- 
 self to the stranger with an impudent fami- 
 liarity that was quite a novelty to him. 
 After one look of surprise, however, he 
 gave no other sign of any unusual impres- 
 sion having been produced upon him by the
 
 DISPLAY. 275 
 
 first onset of Mrs. Craggs's conversation, 
 but continued to talk in his own quiet way, 
 and as if he thoroughly understood the 
 variety of subjects which the lady in her 
 usual slip-slop style contrived to introduce 
 into her discourse. 
 
 He heard what she said, or he could not 
 have replied ; but, far from listening or di- 
 gesting its materials, he was busy in taking 
 an accurate survey of what seemed to him 
 the most extraordinary figure he had ever 
 beheld. Xot only did Mrs. Craggs, as 
 Meliora had described, rejoice in the double 
 peculiarity of squinting and wearing rouge 
 of the most fiery red, but one shoulder 
 was considerably above the other, and she 
 always walked sideways. Her face, set off 
 by a black velvet hat, with dirty white 
 pleureuse feathers, was ugly, withered, and 
 malevolent. She wore a faded and well- 
 
 T 2
 
 276 DISPLAY. 
 
 creased crimson gown, of bad English velvet, 
 the body cut extremely low, which gave her 
 an opportunity that she incessantly made 
 use of, of examining and apparently ad- 
 miring her frightful neck and shoulders, 
 that looked as if they were covered with 
 Russia leather. Such a caricature never 
 was seen. 
 
 Mr. Malcolm had heard of Mrs. Marcia 
 Craggs, as she chose to designate herself, 
 but merely ' as a dreadful quiz/ but he had 
 not the least idea what she was like. On 
 the strength of some vulgar novels which 
 she had concocted half a century before 
 everybody found out that they could write, 
 she set up for a literary authority, in- 
 formed every one who could spare time to 
 listen to her, that she was another Madame 
 de Sevigne, only better dressed, and that 
 she was actually torn to pieces by the
 
 DISPLAY. 277 
 
 crowds of celebrities, who were all dying to 
 gain admittance to her salon. 
 
 No system of puffing ever adopted by 
 George Robins could approach that of Mrs. 
 Craggs. It was the most wearisome thing 
 in the world to be condemned to listen to 
 her, and the marvel was, why she took the 
 trouble of stringing together so many 
 fabrications, when looking at her for a 
 moment was sufficient to convince every 
 body they were such. 
 
 But her impudence was unequalled, ex- 
 cept by her falsehood and detraction ; and, 
 although her reputation in her youth had 
 been as bad as possible, she would stand in 
 the middle of her miserable room, in the 
 suburbs of Islington, and descant loudly on 
 the vices of society, as she endeavoured to 
 tear to pieces the fair fame of all — and they 
 were many — who had slighted her.
 
 278 DISPLAY. 
 
 Every thing about her was false, frippery, 
 and vulgar ; and her nutshell of a house, of 
 which she made a continual boast, was just 
 of the same stamp. Every thing in it was 
 bad — there were bad pictures, bad busts, 
 bad china, bad miniatures, and bad flowers. 
 Cotton velvet portieres adorned the doors — 
 the chairs were hard and rickety — and the 
 sofas, under shelter of their faded red tabaret y 
 were so worn and uneven, that it was mar- 
 tyrdom to sit upon them. 
 
 This was the modern Sevigne and her 
 salon, and few people would have troubled 
 themselves to remember her existence, had 
 it not been for the chance of beholding such 
 a curiosity, afforded by some good-natured 
 person, of an intermediate race like Mrs. 
 Somersett Brown, who, having very few other 
 people, was forced sometimes to undergo Mrs. 
 Craggs and her friends, sooner than be alone
 
 DISPLAY. 279 
 
 It is true, that Mrs. Somersett Brown 
 did not always view her dear friend with 
 the same unfavourable eye, as upon the 
 present occasion ; for the fair mistress of 
 Sycamore Lodge, resolutely intent upon 
 always maintaining the eclat of ' her Wed- 
 nesdays,' had a passion for what she called 
 ' lions/ and had privately commissioned 
 Mrs. Craggs always to be on the look out, 
 and procure for her as many of them on 
 ' her Wednesdays' as possible. 
 
 Now, though it usually happened that 
 Mrs. Craggs only brought with her, lions as 
 bad or worse than herself, Mrs. Somersett 
 Brown was anything but dissatisfied. These 
 sweepings of the highways were better than 
 nothing ; and she comforted herself with 
 the idea that, as they were generally fo- 
 reigners, no one knew exactly who they were. 
 
 A few awkward rencontres had certainly
 
 280 DISPLAY. 
 
 been the result of these promiscuous addi- 
 tions to her menagerie. An Indian chief 
 had been recognised as a courier, and an 
 Italian princess as something much worse ; 
 but still Mrs. Somersett Brown talked on, 
 with her broad face very red, and her eye 
 watching warily the diminution of her goose- 
 berry fool and water. 
 
 The " Wednesdays" must go on at any 
 cost ; but it was not the same when she had 
 brought her friend Mrs. Craggs into such 
 close communication with a new acquaint- 
 ance, whose good opinion she valued so 
 highly. 
 
 As she listened to her forward remarks, 
 and the flippant conversation with which she 
 was endeavouring to insinuate herself into 
 the good graces of Mr. Malcolm, Mrs. So- 
 merset Brown actually blushed. One of the 
 favourite themes with which Mrs. Craggs
 
 DISPLAY. 281 
 
 thought fit to entertain him, was the beauty 
 of Lady Mannering and her sister, who she 
 pretended to know by sight ; but this was a 
 subject which Mr. Malcolm always seemed 
 anxious to avoid ; and when she heard the 
 persevering woman actually insist upon a 
 promise of an introduction to his daughter 
 during the ensuing season, which was laugh- 
 ingly parried by Mr. Malcolm, Mrs. Somer- 
 sett Brown's heart sunk within her 
 
 It was her own object — the chief object of 
 her own inordinate attentions to their father, 
 for Mrs. Brown was too cunning to allow her- 
 self undue indulgence in the hope that already 
 agitated the bosom of the gentle Sophia. 
 A man of his age, she well knew was not 
 so easily caught, as one of the more inex- 
 perienced, and therefore her own objects 
 were of quite as much importance as those 
 which her daughters might cherish.
 
 282 DISPLAY. 
 
 Neither, however, was likely to be much 
 advanced by boring Mr. Malcolm to death, 
 and it was therefore with serious anxiety 
 that she endeavoured to detach Mrs. Craggs 
 from him. She might however have spared 
 herself the trouble. The lady with the rich 
 brogue, so seldom got hold of a victim of 
 such note, that she clung to him with a 
 feverish tenacity. 
 
 In that small room it was impossible to 
 escape from her adhesive powers, and with 
 the exception of a few words now and then 
 from the master of the house, which Mrs. 
 Craggs scarcely permitted him to utter, the 
 conversation was carried on solely between 
 these two. 
 
 The evening passed slowly away, but 
 little enlivened by the execrable singing of 
 the Marquise de Bourrique who was ex- 
 ceedingly sulky at the little notice taken
 
 DISPLAY. 283 
 
 of her by any of the party. The two 
 literary gentlemen, announced by Mrs. 
 Craggs, never arrived ; and it was very late 
 when she at length rose to take her leave — 
 having first exacted a promise from Mr. 
 Malcolm, that he would call upon her the 
 next day, as he passed through town, in 
 order to make the acquaintance of her hus- 
 band, Mr, Peter Craggs, a paralytic old man, 
 who had been on the point of being knighted 
 (as she said) for his services in the rebellion, 
 although most people doubted the fact.
 
 284 + DISPLAY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 It must be owned that it was a great relief 
 to Mr. Malcolm when he was at length per- 
 mitted to seek the shelter of his own apart- 
 ment. . Between the tenderness of the in- 
 sinuating Sophia, the assiduities of Mrs. 
 Somersett Brown, and the familiarity of that 
 dressed-up Sycorax, and her brazen com- 
 panion, his patience and good manners had 
 been taxed to the utmost, and he looked for- 
 ward with no little pleasure to the next morn- 
 ing, when he should make his escape from 
 the delights of Sycamore Lodge.
 
 DISPLAY. * 285 
 
 As lie shut himself into his room, its clean 
 and comfortable appearance struck him for 
 the first time. A bright fire made it look 
 still more cheerful ; and feeling no inclina- 
 tion to sleep, he intended to sit down in his 
 arm-chair by the fireside, and finish a novel 
 which he had been reading during the 
 morning. 
 
 The book was lying on the dressing-table, 
 but as he advanced to take it up, his eye 
 was suddenly caught by a letter which was 
 placed by its side. He, of course, immedi- 
 diately took it up, and at first imagined it 
 might possibly be the forerunner of the 
 regular correspondence with which the in- 
 dustrious Sophia had threatened him. 
 
 It, however, bore no traces of a lady's 
 hand. It was very dirty, had been re- 
 directed more than once, and the word 
 " Immediate " gave tokens of the writer, at
 
 286 * DISPLAY. 
 
 least having been in a hurry, that it should 
 quickly reach its destination. 
 
 With a gesture of surprise, as he observed 
 the foreign post-mark, Mr. Malcolm threw 
 himself into his chair, and tore open the 
 letter. It was very short, and merely con- 
 tained these words : — 
 
 '< Sir,— 
 
 " I leave this next week for England ; 
 some business will detain me a few days at 
 Liverpool, but I hope to be in London by 
 the 15th of February, and beg to see you 
 immediately, either at 52, Fenchurch Street, 
 or, if more convenient, I will run down to 
 Camerford House. It is urgent I should 
 see you at once, as I have unpleasant affairs 
 to talk over. — Your obedient servant, 
 
 "Wiilliam Wharton. 
 
 " Mount Martinvale, Kingston, Jamaica."
 
 DISPLAY. 287 
 
 The letter was from Mr. Malcolm's man of 
 business, who in common with most of his 
 class, might safely have omitted the last 
 sentence, the visits of a man of business 
 seldom announcing anything very delightful. 
 As it so happened, however, it had scarcely 
 reached the eye of Mr. Malcolm, when a 
 sudden pallor overspread his face. He grew 
 actually livid when he first recognised the 
 hand- writing, and sat as if turned to stone, 
 still holding the letter before him. 
 
 After some time, he laid it down — then 
 hurriedly took it up and examined the date. 
 It was just a month since it had been 
 written. The writer was therefore in Eng- 
 land, and expecting his reply. The letter 
 had evidently been travelling after him, 
 during his tour of visits and had gone first 
 to Camerford House, and then to Mannering 
 Park, for it bore the Burnham post-mark.
 
 288 DISPLAY. 
 
 He ought to have received it long before. 
 It appeared, however, to have come quite 
 soon enough, as far as any agreeable asso- 
 ciations were concerned, for Mr. Malcolm, 
 usually so calm and collected, was strangely 
 agitated by it. His hands trembled, and 
 with a hasty gesture, he wiped the perspira- 
 tion from his brow. 
 
 He read and re-read the letter at least a 
 hundred times. All night long this agony 
 endured ; without undressing he threw 
 himself upon his bed — but it was only to 
 rise again immediately from it, and read 
 over and over the fatal letter which had 
 thus cruelly disturbed him. He seemed to 
 writhe with pain, as he looked upon it, and 
 as he turned towards the light of the candle, 
 years seemed in a moment to have been 
 added to his life. 
 
 Day-light came, and made him look still
 
 DISPLAY. 289 
 
 more cadaverous than before. He had 
 entered that room, a fine fresh handsome 
 man, looking so young, that no one would 
 have believed him to be the father of a 
 married daughter, and now, he seemed 
 actually to have withered as he stood. 
 
 It must have been a powerful blow that 
 could shake so firm a man. 
 
 The light grew stronger, and Mr. Mal- 
 colm hastily drew back the curtains that 
 shaded the window. He would have left 
 the house instantly, if he could. His car- 
 riage which was to come from town, was 
 not ordered till twelve o'clock, and, in the 
 state of nervous excitement which the letter 
 had produced, it seemed impossible to wait 
 for that hour. 
 
 He first thought of walking immediately 
 to London, then of going to the village and 
 ordering a fly. The latter seemed to pro- 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 DISPLAY. 
 
 mise the most speedy relief from his diffi- 
 culties, and he therefore resolved to make 
 the attempt. He went down stairs, but, 
 as he might have anticipated, he found the 
 hall-door locked, and the key was no where 
 to be seen. As the lower windows of the 
 house opened to the ground, there was little 
 difficulty in obtaining egress in that way ; 
 but, arrived in the garden, his position was 
 by no means improved. 
 
 There was but one little door opening to 
 the lane, at the further end of the garden, 
 and that was carefully locked. It was 
 marvellous that a man of his sagacity could 
 have imagined that people would leave 
 their doors open all night, especially in 
 the vicinity of London ; but Mr. Malcolm 
 seemed as much disappointed and surprised at 
 the occurrence, as if it were the most natu- 
 ral thing in the world that they should do so.
 
 DISPLAY. 291 
 
 He turned back from the door with a 
 vexed and harassed look, and hastily re- 
 traced his steps towards the house. But, 
 distracted by his own thoughts, he was like 
 a person who does not see where he is 
 going ; and, as soon as he arrived at the 
 house, he turned off in another direction, 
 and continued to pace round and round the 
 small enclosure — which Mrs. Soinersett 
 Brown called her " grounds" — with an al- 
 most frantic impatience. 
 
 It appeared, al last, as if his own foot- 
 steps had attracted his attention ; and, 
 as he stopped and looked round upon the 
 objects near him, he, for the first time, per- 
 ceived the diminutive size of the house and 
 garden. 
 
 Could this be the vaunted ground of 
 " the Wednesdays," of which he had heard 
 so much ? A faint smile overspread his 
 
 u 2
 
 292 DISPLAY 
 
 pale face, as he thought of Mrs. Somersett 
 Brown and her littlenesses. There were 
 such large sorrows in his own heart. Why 
 were two people, on the same spot, to have 
 such different feelings, and hopes, and fears? 
 He almost envied the square, happy woman 
 who was reposing beneath the roof on which 
 his eye rested. He certainly envied the 
 birds that came hopping on the ground be- 
 fore him, where his footmarks had destroyed 
 their enemy, the snow. 
 
 He felt disposed to moralize — to forgive ; 
 and as he looked upon the house he was so 
 anxious to quit, a feeling of pity for a mo- 
 ment stole over his heart — pity for the mon- 
 strous follies and pretensions he had wit- 
 nessed, and remorse for having encouraged 
 them chiefly for his own ends. 
 
 After all, what in their conduct was differ- 
 ent from his own ? They were all playing
 
 DISPLAY. 293 
 
 their parts. The upstart Mrs. Somersett 
 Brown — the intriguing Sophia — the forward 
 Mrs. Craggs, and her friend, the impudent 
 Marquise de Bourrique, were all endea- 
 vouring to push themselves on in the 
 world, and by showing false colours, exact 
 a consideration to which they had no 
 claim. 
 
 What had he been doing all his life? 
 The still small voice of conscience for a 
 moment made itself heard. The hour — 
 the solitude, and the terrible pang that 
 shot through his heart, as he thought of 
 the fatal letter he had received, had, for 
 the moment, softened his nature ; but, 
 alas ! it was but for a moment. A sound 
 reached him from the house, and, in an in- 
 stant, recalled him to himself. He rose, 
 and went towards the window, by which he 
 had entered the garden. It was still open,
 
 294 DISPLAY. 
 
 and the housemaid, with a panic-stricken 
 visage, was unbarring its neighbours. 
 
 Hastily muttering something about " an 
 early walk," he rushed by her, and locked 
 himself into his room. The whole house 
 was astir, and it behoved him, if he did 
 not want to excite attention, which might 
 be very annoying, to resume his composure 
 as he best could. It was no easy matter, 
 but to a man of his habits, it was practica- 
 ble. It was not the first time he had 
 smiled with a breaking heart. 
 
 Never had Mr. Malcolm looked more 
 handsome, or in better spirits than when, at 
 the usual time, he seated himself at the 
 breakfast table of Mrs. Somersett Brown. 
 Every one of the beautiful white teeth, 
 which had so captivated the ready heart of 
 the tender Sophia, could have been seen 
 over and over again, as he smilingly re-
 
 DISPLAY. 295 
 
 counted his adventures of the morning, and 
 the alarm they had evidently produced. 
 
 "I believe," he said, turning to Mrs. 
 Somersett Brown, " your housemaid was 
 fully persuaded some midnight burglars 
 had been at work at your lower window. 
 It is lucky you have no very zealous police- 
 man on your hill, or I might have break- 
 fasted at the nearest station-house." 
 
 " I am so sorry, so grieved not to have 
 been up in time to share your ramble ;" ex- 
 claimed the lady addressed, " I should have 
 so liked to have escorted you through the 
 grounds." 
 
 a The grounds /" All Mr. Malcolm's new 
 found sympathy vanished, and he fell back 
 immediately into his old ways. 
 
 " Oh ! it was much too cold for you, my 
 dear Mrs. Brown, and my walk was much too 
 long ; and besides that, I could see nothing
 
 296 DISPLAY. 
 
 for the snow — what a quantity to have 
 fallen in one night/' 
 
 " Quite frightful I" exclaimed Mrs. Somer- 
 sett Brown, affectedly, and at the same time 
 drawing a long breath. Mr. Malcolm had 
 seen nothing — neither the puddles nor the 
 dirt, nor the weeds. Her romancings might 
 still continue. 
 
 " I hope, however, you will see the place 
 ni much greater perfection in the summer. 
 I may count upon you for my Wednesdays, 
 Mr. Malcolm," said the lady, in her most 
 seducing manner. 
 
 " Oh ! without fail ! — my dear Mrs. 
 Brown. Count upon me ever as the hum- 
 blest of your slaves !" and Mr. Malcolm 
 ended his speech by a very expressive look 
 at Sophia. 
 
 " Must you go to day ?" asked the^young 
 lady, softly, as she fidgetted upon her chair.
 
 DISPLAY. 297 
 
 " Indeed, I am sorry to say, I must — I 
 have people coming to me, and I must be 
 at Camerford House to dinner," was the 
 reply — although he crushed the letter as he 
 spoke in his pocket, and thought of Fen- 
 church Street, and No. 52. 
 
 " How happy your daughter will be to 
 see you !" said Meliora, softly — " I am 
 always miserable when dear papa is 
 away." 
 
 " But shall I not see Mr. Brown ?" asked 
 Mr. Malcolm, suddenly recollecting he had 
 not made his appearance that morning. 
 
 " I am afraid it will be quite impossible," 
 replied Mrs. Somersett Brown ; "he has 
 alarming symptoms of his old enemy, the 
 gout, coming on, and I fear cannot get down 
 stairs." 
 
 " But I can go to him — if he can't come 
 to me — I shall be delighted to pay him a
 
 298 DISPLAY. 
 
 visit/' said Mr. Malcolm, with alacrity, as 
 he thought of the eight votes. 
 
 " Oh ! pray don't think of such a thing !" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Brown, growing extremely 
 red, as she remembered the dirty attic ; 
 " his room is at the top of the house — he 
 will sleep there, on account of the air. I 
 will make your adieux for you to him, 
 Mr. Malcolm, and most sorry I am to be 
 obliged to do so." 
 
 These last words — the only true ones she 
 had spoken — were instantly echoed by her 
 disconsolate daughters. — Truly sorry were 
 they, indeed, to see their pleasant guest de- 
 parting. 
 
 " And perhaps, Mrs. Brown, you will say 
 for me, also, what I ought long since to 
 have said for myself — Mr. Brown, I know, 
 has a large property at Wallingborough. 1 
 am going to stand for the county — may
 
 DISPLAY 299 
 
 I venture to ask him for his support and 
 interest ? Will you undertake it for me?" 
 
 " Most willingly," replied Mrs. Somersett 
 Brown ; " and if I have any influence, I 
 think you may count upon success." 
 
 " Dear me ! cried Sophia, lispingly : " are 
 you going to have an election ? I never 
 saw an election. I should like so to see one 
 — what colours will you have, Mr. Mal- 
 colm?" 
 
 " Blue and white, I think," replied Mr. 
 Malcolm, with a meaning look at the 
 streamers of Sophia's cap. " I had not 
 settled that part of the business — but you 
 will let me know about the votes ? 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I will write to you," said 
 Sophia, tenderly, offering her hand, as Mr. 
 Malcolm rose to depart. 
 
 " Sophia is the great writer of the 
 family," said Mrs. Somersett Brown, apolo-
 
 300 DISPLAY. 
 
 getically, in order to cover the forwardness 
 of her daughter. 
 
 " I shall be too grateful, if any lady takes 
 the trouble of writing to an old man like 
 me," said Mr. Malcolm, with a smile. 
 " And now, indeed, I must say good-bye — 
 I must tear myself away. If I staid longer, 
 I should never go at all." 
 
 In a few moments all the ladies had 
 finished saying, " Good-bye;" and very 
 soon after the clock had struck twelve, 
 Mr. Malcolm was seated in his carriage. 
 
 " Set me down at the club," he said in a 
 loud voice, to the footman who shut the 
 door of the carriage. 
 
 " What a happy man !" exclaimed poor 
 Sophia, as she watched the handsome horses 
 of Mr. Malcolm stepping proudly down the 
 lane. 
 
 " And what a happy woman his wife will
 
 DISPLAY. 301 
 
 be," replied Meliora, looking spitefully at 
 her sister. " I dare say he will marry soon. 
 He is sure to make a great match, when- 
 ever he likes it."
 
 302 DISPLAY. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 At the corner of the New Road, Mr. 
 Malcolm stopped his carriage, and desiring 
 his servants to proceed at once with it to 
 his club, he walked on until he met a cab, 
 in which, having ensconced himself, he 
 ordered the man to take him to Fenchurch 
 Street. 
 
 The agony ot mind he endured seemed to 
 increase as he drew nearer to the appointed 
 place of meeting. What was he about to 
 hear ? Any news from Jamaica of an un- 
 favourable nature might at once involve him
 
 DISPLAY. 303 
 
 in destruction, for he had entered into 
 speculations in that island of so daring and 
 hazardous a nature, that the failure of any 
 one part of them might entail a general 
 crash. 
 
 All this was a profound .secret from his 
 
 friends in England. Some people might 
 
 know, or guess "that he had a great deal of 
 
 property abroad," but whether it was in 
 
 Canada or Hind.stan, no one had ever taken 
 
 the trouble to enquire. Little did they 
 
 imagine that the rich Mr. Malcolm, who 
 
 lived in such splendour, was in reality a very 
 
 poor man. and worse than poor, that he was 
 
 living on his principal, the principal of 
 
 money he had borrowed, thus every day 
 
 adding to the accumulation of his debts, 
 
 which were rising like an ocean around him. 
 
 For a great many years this had been his 
 
 ton, and to sustain himself in the ey*
 
 304 DISPLAY. 
 
 the world, and contrive to pay the exor- 
 bitant interest of the various sums that he 
 had borrowed, he had had recourse to prac- 
 tices which would scarcely bear the light, 
 and leagued himself with many persons 
 whose characters did not add any lustre to 
 his own. 
 
 Among them was this very man, Wharton, 
 whose letter had thrown him into such vio- 
 lent agitation. He had been, when located 
 in England, a money-lender — a sort of man 
 ready to do any dirty job, where his em- 
 ployer dared not appear, and equally ready 
 to turn against him whenever he could make 
 better terms elsewhere. 
 
 For several years past he had resided en- 
 tirely in Jamaica, where he was entrusted by 
 Mr. Malcolm with the chief management of 
 his business, which comprised the agencies 
 of most of the great properties of the island.
 
 DISPLAY. 305 
 
 To support this, and sundry other smaller 
 speculations, Mr. Malcolm had nothing but 
 his own estate in Jamaica, which, though 
 large could never be safely counted upon, 
 and a floating capital of borrowed money, 
 for which, of course, no small interest had 
 been demanded. 
 
 It is not surprising that with this position 
 of affairs, Mr. Malcolm should have had 
 many moments of deep anxiety ; but 
 hitherto his career had been one of un- 
 exampled success — success derived partly 
 from his extraordinary activity and the 
 fertility of resource which he possessed 
 in a remarkable degree — and partly, it 
 must be owned, to the many victims he 
 and his worthy associates had contrived 
 to discover, and render willing to risk their 
 all by an implicit reliance on his word. 
 
 The complication of his affairs would have 
 
 vol. i. x
 
 306 DISPLAY. 
 
 puzzled a calculating machine. He had 
 not an acre of land unmortgaged ; but as 
 credit was the only means by which he 
 could carry on his splendid farce of life, 
 the utmost care had been taken to conceal 
 the true state of his affairs from the know- 
 ledge of every class of persons. 
 
 Almost all his money transactions had 
 been carried on in Jamaica, and what was 
 done there did not quickly transpire in 
 England. He had himself paid more than 
 one hurried visit to the island, but gene- 
 rally his business was transacted by his 
 agents, and hitherto he had not much 
 reason to complain of their management. 
 
 The sudden arrival of Wharton in Eng- 
 land had, however, filled him with terror. 
 Among all his confidential advisers, he was 
 the person who was most acquainted with 
 his private affairs ; and, although a man of
 
 DISPLAY. 307 
 
 exceedingly bad character, he had, as far a 
 Mr. Malcolm was concerned, shown himself 
 a steady and efficient adherent. 
 
 With a throbbing heart, Mr. Malcolm 
 watched the slow progress of the poor, 
 starved-looking animal which was slowly 
 dragging him towards the city. Every 
 step seemed to bring him nearer to his 
 doom ; for, doomed to evil and sorrow, he 
 had as securely felt, since the receipt of 
 Wharton's letter, as if he had already heard 
 the evil tidings he evidently had to com- 
 municate. 
 
 At last they reached their destination, 
 and 52 stood in large gold figures on the 
 door of a shop in Fenchurch-street. It 
 was a gas-fitter's shop, and Mr. Malcolm 
 looked hastily for the bell of the offices 
 upstairs. A whole row of brass knobs pre- 
 sented themselves to his view. He chose 
 
 x 2
 
 308 DISPLAY. 
 
 the first, and hurriedly pulled it. In due 
 course of time, a dirty girl, slipshod, and 
 with her hair in papers, made her ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 " Is Mr. Wharton at home ?" Mr. Mal- 
 colm inquired. 
 
 u Doesn't live here, Sir !" was the laconic 
 reply. 
 
 " He is certainly here — this is 52, Fen- 
 church-street, is it not ?" 
 
 " Yes — but there is another besides. 
 There, at that yellow door," replied the 
 girl, pointing to a baker's next door. 
 
 Mr. Malcolm looked quickly in the 
 direction named, and, on turning round 
 to ask some further questions, he found 
 the obliging damsel had shut the door in 
 his face. This, to a man panting to find 
 the person he sought, was anything but 
 encouraging. He rushed to the next door.
 
 DISPLAY. 309 
 
 Here, there was but one bell, and an old 
 man having answered his summons, he made 
 the necessary inquiries. 
 
 " I can't say, indeed — don't know the 
 name of any of our lodgers;" was the in- 
 telligent reply. 
 
 "But he must be here — I know he is 
 here. Don't his letters come here?" asked 
 Mr. Malcolm, whose wrath was beginning 
 to rise. 
 
 " Don't know, indeed. I see'd some 
 letters on the hall table, but can't say who 
 they belonged to. We have fiine rooms to 
 mind, and they are all full. There's work 
 enough to do, and for three-and-sixpence 
 a week too ;" said the old man, scratching 
 his head, and turning away his surly face. 
 
 Mr. Malcolm hastily stepped within the 
 door, winch in another moment he felt 
 would stand between him and his inquiries.
 
 310 DISPLAY. 
 
 H Mr. Wharton must be here — he cer- 
 tainly lodges here," he persisted. "A large 
 man — a large man, with a very red face, 
 and a bald head. You could not mistake him." 
 
 " Oh ! a stout gentleman," said the man, 
 hesitatingly. 
 
 "Yes — very stout. Has no one seen 
 him ? Is there no one there I can speak 
 to?" said Mr. Malcolm, raising his voice 
 and looking down the passage, where sundry 
 whisperings were audible. 
 
 u Perhaps it's the stout gentleman in No. 
 5, father. There's another in No. 9, but 
 he hasn't got no red face," cried a sharp 
 voice, and a diminutive girl, with black 
 eyes and a very aquiline nose, suddenly 
 showed herself round the corner. 
 
 u Thank you, my little girl. Is the gen- 
 tleman at home ?" said Mr. Malcolm, grate- 
 fully.
 
 DISPLAY. 311 
 
 " Pr'aps you'll like to walk up and see, 
 Sir," said the old man, with new found 
 civility, and watching the shilling that Mr. 
 Malcolm had taken out of his pocket to 
 give to the little girl. He did not wait for 
 any further invitation, but hastily mounted 
 the stairs, and in a few moments stood be- 
 fore No. 5. The door was locked. In a 
 fury of impatience he shook the handle till 
 it came off in his hand. No one answered 
 from within, but the neighbouring door sud- 
 denly opened, and an old woman in a mob 
 cap popped out her head. Without looking 
 who it was she addressed, she said, in a 
 solemn tone — 
 
 "If it is Mr. Wharton you want, you 
 will find him at Coutts 7 bank ;" and she 
 shut the door, without adding another word. 
 Mr. Malcolm went down stairs. 
 
 " I knew the stout gentleman was out,"
 
 312 DISPLAY. 
 
 said the little biack-eyed girl, sidling up to 
 him in the passage, in the fond hope of 
 eliciting another shilling from the stranger. 
 
 " Then, why didn't you say so ?" said Mr. 
 Malcolm, angrily. 
 
 " Well, you didn't ax me," said the girl, 
 impudently ; " but I see'd him go, and he'd 
 his great coat on." 
 
 " How long is he gone ?" said the dis- 
 tracted questioner, initiated for the first 
 time into the comforts of a lodging-house. 
 
 " Well — better than half an hour, I think 
 — but you can't wait here, for there's no 
 room. The lodgers always takes their keys 
 with them," said the child, sharply — for no 
 movement of Mr. Malcolm's hand indicated 
 any farther intentions of generosity. 
 
 Without another word, he rushed into 
 the attendant cab, crying with a loud voice 
 — " To Courts'."
 
 DISPLAY. 313 
 
 "Very good, Sir," said the cabman, 
 shaking himself from a short slumber ; and 
 the old white horse was again put in mo- 
 tion. At the end of the street, a waggon 
 was upset — and the usual stoppage, and 
 pushing, and scrambling, was going on, sea- 
 soned with sundry oaths. 
 
 " Turn back, and go round," cried Mr. 
 Malcolm, to the driver. 
 
 The man — a civil one, for a wonder — 
 prepared to obey, but it was too late — they 
 were hemmed in behind in an instant. 
 There was nothing to be done, but to wait. 
 In due time, the street cleared again, and, 
 without any further impediments, Mr. Mal- 
 colm was deposited at the banking-house. 
 There, at least, he met with beings both 
 obliging and intelligent. Mr. Wharton had 
 been there — he came every day for his let- 
 ters — and was only just gone.
 
 314 DISPLAY. 
 
 " And where is he gone to?" asked Mr. 
 Malcolm, in a faltering voice, for he felt as 
 if it must be a most useless question. 
 
 " Mr. Wharton is gone to Black wall, 
 Sir," civilly replied the clerk he had ad- 
 dressed — " he desired all his letters to be 
 kept till to-morrow for him." 
 
 "To Blackwall!" echoed Mr. Malcolm, 
 in dismay. 
 
 " Yes, Sir — there is a West India packet 
 in, and Mr. Wharton expected to meet some 
 friends. Very likely he will dine at the 
 tavern, as he said he should not be back 
 till late." 
 
 The suggestion seemed to infuse new life 
 into the listener, and, thanking the man for 
 his intelligence, Mr. Malcolm once more 
 entered his cab, and drove off to Love- 
 grove's, at Blackwall. 
 
 With throbbing temples and parched
 
 DISPLAY 315 
 
 throat he arrived at the end of his journey : 
 but here, at length, his search was successful ; 
 for, upon inquiry, he found that Mr. Whar- 
 ton had just arrived, and, with two other 
 gentlemen, was going to sit down to 
 dinner. 
 
 Sending in his card, Mr. Malcolm waited 
 in a private room — waited for the man who 
 had come to pronounce his doom. In a few 
 moments the door opened, and a large man 
 entered — a large man with a red face, and 
 a sharp, but not a particularly unkind, 
 expression of countenance. 
 
 " Wharton," said Mr. Malcolm, without 
 any other greeting save firmly grasping his 
 hand, " what is this you have to tell me?" 
 
 u We are ruined," was the laconic reply. 
 " Old Milman is dead — his sons have put 
 his affairs in the hands of trustees — and they 
 have called in the mortgages. We have but
 
 316 DISPLAY. 
 
 six months. I came off instantly, to see 
 what could be done here." 
 
 Mr. Malcolm clasped his hands upon his 
 forehead ; his face was pale as death. Mil- 
 man was the person to whom the Jamaica 
 estate and Camerford House had been mort- 
 gaged. Neither of them were worth half 
 the value that had been advanced upon 
 them. 
 
 " Thank Heavens !" said Mr. Malcolm, in 
 a low voice, as after a long pause he wrung 
 
 Mr. Wharton's hand, "I have one hope left — 
 
 I have a rich son-in-law." 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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 young officers. We are happy, therefore, to find that, under the able editorship of Mr. 
 Stocqueler, the whole of the most valuable portion of the general's correspondence has just 
 been published in two handsome volumes, which comprise also a most interesting memoir of 
 the gallant hero of Candahar, giving a complete account of the stirring campaign in Afghan- 
 istan, and throwing much light upon many important points hitherto left in obscurity. The 
 work will be eagerly welcomed by all — more particularly by military readers and those in- 
 terested in our Indian dominions." — Globe. 
 
 " A biography of a first-rate soldier, and a highly honourable man. The book will often be 
 appealed to as a standard authority. A valuable and most authentic adition is here 
 furnished to the true history of transactions which will ever hold a' prominent place in the 
 annals of our Indian rule." — Dublin University Mag. 
 
 " We know not a book after the Wellington Despatches, more deserving of the study of 
 a young officer. It might be made one of the standard manuals of military education." — 
 Literary Gazette. 
 
 'This book is one of the most interesting records of military life that we possess, and 
 a genuine memorial of one who has achieved a right to be reckoned among England's greatest 
 men." — Daily News. 
 
 NARRATIVE OF A RESIDENCE AT NEPAUL. BY 
 
 CAPTAIN THOMAS SMITH, late Assistant Political-Resident at 
 Nepatjl. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 " No man could be better qualified to describe Nepaul than Captain Smith ; and his 
 concise, but clear and graphic account of its history, its natural productions, its laws and 
 customs, and the character of its warlike inhabitants, is very agreeable and instructive 
 reading. A separate chapter, not the least entertaining in the book, is devoted to anecdotes 
 of the Nepaulese mission, of whom, and of their visit to Europe, many remarkable stories 
 are told."— Post,
 
 HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 TURKEY: ITS HISTORY AND PROGRESS; FROM 
 
 THE JOURNALS AND CORRESPONDENCE OF SIR JAMES PORTER, 
 Fifteen Years Ambassador at Constantinople, continued to the Present Time, 
 with a Memoir of Sir James Porter, by his Grandson, SIR GEORGE 
 LARPENT, Bart. 2 vols. 8vo., with Illustrations. 30s. bound. 
 
 "These volumes are of an authentic character and enduring interest."— Athenaeum. 
 
 " This book forms a very valuable repertory of information in regard to the past and 
 present state of Turkey. Altogether the information is completely given, and for all pur- 
 poses of reference during the continuance of the struggle in the East, the book will be 
 valuable." — Examiner. 
 
 "To any of our readers desirous of forming an opinion for himself on the condition 
 and prospects of Turkey, we would advise a careful perusal of this work. No work on the 
 subject could have been better timed, while the information which it contains— unlike the 
 great bulk of those hasty compilations which a sudden demand has called into existence — is 
 not only accurate, but valuable." — Morning Chronicle. 
 
 "A most interesting, instructive, and valuable work. In no other book that we are 
 aware of, will the reader find the same amount of reliable information respecting the actual 
 condition and resources of the Sultan's dominions." — Morning Post. 
 
 " In these volumes we have the most complete and accurate description of the past and 
 present position of the Turkish Empire to be found in our language."— Britannia. 
 
 " These volumes constitute a work for the future as well as for the present, in other 
 words, a valuable library book as well as a book of great contemporaneous interest. Their 
 permanent value they derive chiefly from the deep research and extensive and minute in- 
 vestigation of their first author, Sir James Porter, their present interest from the acute and 
 lively treatment of the events of the day by his grandson and continuator. In fact, we know 
 not where to find so perfect an account of Turkey in all its relations with the rest of the 
 world, military, political, and, above all, commercial." — Standard. 
 
 "This highly interesting work consists of two parts. The first volume, after a memoir 
 of Sir James Porter, proceeds to give a general description of the Turkish Empire, of its 
 natural and industrial productions, and its commerce, a sketch of its history from the in- 
 vasion of Europe to the reign of Sultan Mahmud II., and an account of the religion and 
 the civil institutions of the Turks, and of their manners and customs, chiefly from the 
 data supplied by the papers of Sir James Porter. In the second volume we are made ac- 
 quainted with Turkey as it is ; the religious and civil government of Turkey, its Legislature, 
 the state of education in the Empire, its finances, its military and naval strength, and the 
 social condition of the Turks, are all in succession brought under review. The work gives a fuller 
 and more life-like picture of the present state of the Ottoman Empire, than any other work with 
 which we are acquainted." — John Bull. 
 
 "No publication upon the state and prospects of the Ottoman Empire, with which we 
 are acquainted can compare with the work now under notice for general utility. In addition 
 to investigations into the legislature of Turkey, its civil and religious government, its 
 educational institutions, and the system of instruction, its finances, military and naval 
 resources, and the social condition of the people, ample details are given of its history, and 
 a short account of the progress of the actual struggle. These researches are interspersed with 
 journals and letters, which impart a charming interest to the volumes. We hail the appear- 
 ance of these volumes with satisfaction, as accurate information both on the history and the 
 actual condition of Turkey is much needed. Good books are ever welcome, and this is a good 
 book, coming into our possession at the critical moment when it is most required."— Messenger.
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 THE LIFE OF MARIE DE MEDICIS, QUEEN OF 
 
 FRANCE, Consort of Henry IV., and Regent under Louis XIII. 
 By MISS PARDOE, Author of " Louis XIV, and the Court of France, in 
 the 17th Century," &c. Second Edition. 3 large vols. 8vo. with fine 
 Portraits. 
 
 " A fascinating book. The history of such a woman as the beautiful, impulsive, earnest, 
 and affectionate Marie de Medicis could only be done justice to by a female pen, impelled by 
 all the sympathies of womanhood, but strengthened by an erudition by which it is not in 
 every case accompanied. In Miss Pardoe the unfortunate Queen has found both these 
 requisites, and the result has been a biography combining the attractiveness of romance with 
 the reliableness of history, and which, taking a place midway between the * frescoed galleries ' 
 of Thierry, and the ' philosophic watch-tower of Guizot,' has all the pictorial brilliancy of 
 the one, with much of the reflective speculation of the other."— Daily News. 
 
 " A work of high literary and historical merit. Rarely have the strange vicissitudes of 
 romance been more intimately blended with the facts of real history than in the life of Marie 
 de Medicis; nor has the difficult problem of combining with the fidelity of biography the 
 graphic power of dramatic delineation been often more successfully solved than by the 
 talented author of the volumes before us. As a personal narrative, Miss Pardoe's admirable 
 biography possesses the most absorbing and constantly sustained interest ; as a historical 
 record of the events of which it treats, its merit is of no ordinary description."— 
 John Bull. 
 
 MEMOIES OF THE BAEONESS D'OBERKIRCH, 
 
 Illustrative of the Secret History of the Courts of France, 
 Russia, and Germany. Written by HERSELF, and Edited hy Her 
 Grandson, the COUNT DE MONTBRISON. 3 vols, post 8vo. 31s. 6d. 
 
 The Baroness d'Oberkirch being the intimate friend of the Empress of Russia, 
 wife of Paul I., and the confidential companion of the Duchess of Bourbon, her 
 facilities for obtaining information respecting the most private affairs of the 
 principal Courts of Europe, render her Memoirs unrivalled as a book of interest- 
 ing anecdotes of the royal, noble and other celebrated individuals who flourished 
 on the continent during the latter part of the last century. Among the royal per- 
 sonages introduced to the reader in this work, are Louis XVI., Marie Antoinette, 
 Philip Egalitc, and all the Princes of France then living — Peter the Great, the 
 Empress Catherine, the Emperor Paul, and his sons Constantine aud Alexander, 
 of Russia — Frederick the Great and Prince Henry of Prussia — the Emperor 
 Joseph II. of Austria — Gustavus III, of Sweden — Princess Christina of Saxony 
 — Sobieski, and Czartoriski of Poland — and the Princes of Brunswick and 
 Wurtcmburg. Among the most remarkable persons are the Princes and 
 Princesses de Lamballe, de Ligne and Galitzin — the Dukes and Duchesses de 
 Choiseul, de Mazarin, de BoufHers, de la Valliere, de Guiche, de Penthievre, and 
 de Polignac — Cardinal de Rohan, Marshals Biron and d'Harcourt, Count de 
 Staremberg, Baroness de Krudener, Madame Geoffrin, Talleyrand, Mirabeau, and 
 Necker — with Count Cagliostro, Mesmer, Vestris, and Madame Mara ; and the 
 work also includes such literary celebrities as Voltaire, Condorcet, de la Harpe, 
 de Beaumarchais, Rousseau, Lavater, Bernouilli, Raynal, de l'Epee, Huber, 
 Gbthe, Wieland, Malesherbes, Marmontel, de Stael and de Genlis ; with some 
 singular disclosures respecting those celebrated Englishwomen, Elizabeth Chud- 
 leith, Duchess of Kingston, and Lady Craven, Margravine of Anspach. 
 
 " A keen observer, and by position thrown in the high places of the world, the 
 Baroness d'Oberkirch was the very woman to write Memoirs that would interest future 
 generations. We commend these volumes most heartily to every reader. They are a 
 perfect magazine of pleasant anecdotes and interesting characteristic things. We lay 
 down these charming volumes with regret. They will entertain the most fastidious 
 readers, and instruct the most informed."— Examiner.
 
 HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 THE LIFE OF MARGUERITE D'ANGOULEME, 
 
 QUEEN OF NAVARRE, SISTER OF FRANCIS L, from numerous Original 
 Sources, including MS. Documents in the Bibliotheque Imperiale, and the 
 Archives du Royaume de France, and the Private Correspondence of Queen 
 Marguerite with Francis I. By MISS FREER. 2 vols., with fine Portraits, 
 engraved by Heath, 21s. bound. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 "This is a very complete and cleverly- written life of the illustrious sister of Francis I., 
 and it may be said of her that the varied and interesting stores of French history offer no 
 theme more worthy of research and study than the career of this great princess, who exer- 
 cised so potent an influence over the politics and manners of the age of which she was 
 herself the brightest ornament. The published and manuscript documents and letters 
 relating to the life of Marguerite of Navarre, and which are indispensable to a correct 
 biography of this queen, are widely dispersed. The author has spared no cost or trouble in 
 endeavouring to obtain all that were likely to elucidate her character and conduct. She has 
 furnished us with a very interesting and graphic sketch of the singular events and the 
 important personages who took part in them during this stormy and remarkable period of 
 French and English history." — Observer. 
 
 " This is a very useful and amusing book. It is a good work, very well done. The 
 authoress is quite equal in power and grace to Miss Strickland. She must have spent a 
 great time and labour In collecting the information, which she imparts in an easy and 
 agreeable manner. It is difficult to lay down her book after having once begun it. This is 
 owing partly to the interesting nature of the subject, partly to the skilful manner in which it 
 has been treated. No other life of Marguerite has yet been published, even in France. 
 Indeed, till Louis Philippe ordered the collection and publication of manuscripts relating to 
 the History of France, no such work could be published. It is difficult to conceive how, 
 under any circumstances, it could have been done better." — Standard. 
 
 "There are few names more distinguished that that of Marguerite d'Angoul£me in the 
 range of female biography, and the writer of this work has done well in taking up a 
 subject so copious and attractive. It is altogether an interesting and well-written 
 biography." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 " A work of high literary and historic merit. It is full of absorbing and constantly 
 sustained interest. In these volumes will be found not alone an incalculable amount of 
 historical information, but a store of reading of a charming and entrancing character, and we 
 heartily commend them as deserving general popularity." — Sunday Times. 
 
 " A work which is most acceptable as an addition to our historical stores, and which will 
 place the author in a foremost rank among our female writers of the royal biography of their 
 own sex." — John Bull. 
 
 "A candidly, carefully, and spiritedly written production, and no one who peruses it 
 with the attention it merits can fail to acquire a complete and accurate knowledge of the 
 interesting life of the best and most graceful woman who ever filled a conspicuous place in 
 the history of mankind." — Morning Herald. 
 
 " This life of Marguerite d'Angouleme is entitled to high rank amongst the many excel- 
 lent memoirs of illustrious women for which we have been largely indebted to female 
 authorship. The subject is eminently attractive." — Morning Post. 
 
 "Throughout these volumes the most intense interest is maintained. Like Carlyle, 
 Miss Freer has written as one whose thoughts and sympathies became assimilated to the 
 age. The biography of Marguerite of Navarre is a work upon which the author has 
 lavished all the resources of her genius."— Britannia.
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT S NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF JOHN ABERNETHY, F.R.S. WITH A 
 
 View of his Writings, Lectures, and Character. By GEORGE 
 MACILWAIN, F.R.C.S., author of " Medicine and Surgery One Inductive 
 Science," &c. Second Edition. 2 vols., post 8vo., with Portraits, 21s. 
 
 " A memoir of high professional interest."— Morning Post. 
 
 " These memoirs convey a graphic, and, we believe, faithful picture of the celebrated 
 John Abernethy. The volumes are written in a popular style, and will afford to the general 
 reader much instruction and entertainment." — Herald. 
 
 " This is a book which ought to be read by every one. The professional man will find 
 in it the career of one of the most illustrious professors of medicine of our own or of any 
 other age— the student of intellectual science, the progress of a truly profound philosopher — 
 and all, the lesson afforded by a good man's life. Abemethy's memory is worthy of a good 
 biographer, and happily it has found one." — Standard. 
 
 "We hope these volumes will be perused by all our readers. They are extremely 
 interesting, and not only give an account of Abernethy, which cannot fail to be read with 
 benefit, but they discuss incidentally many questions of medicine and medical polity. Mr. 
 Macihvain is fond of anecdotes, and has inserted a great number; this does not render his 
 work less pleasant reading. We recommend it most strongly as an interesting, and, at the 
 same time, instructive treatise." — Medico-Chirurgical Review. 
 
 THE LITERATURE AND ROMANCE OF NORTHERN 
 
 EUROPE ; constituting a complete History of the Literature of Sweden, 
 Denmark, Norway, and Iceland, with copious Specimens of the most cele- 
 brated Histories, Romances, and Popular Legends and Tales, old Chivalrous 
 Ballads, Tragic and Comic Dramas, National Songs, Novels and Scenes from 
 the Life of the Present Day. By WILLIAM and MARY HOWITT. 2 vols, 
 post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 " English readers have long been indebted to Mr. and Mrs. Howitt. They have now 
 increased our obligations by presenting us with this most charming and valuable work, by 
 means of which the great ^majority of the reading public will be, for the first time, made 
 acquainted with the rich stores of intellectual wealth long garnered in the literature and 
 beautiful romance of Northern Europe. From the famous Edda, whose origin is lost in 
 antiquity, down to the novels of Miss Bremer and Baroness Knorring, the prose and poetic 
 writings of Denmark, Norway, Sweden, and Iceland are here introduced to us in a manner 
 at once singularly comprehensive and concise. It is no dry enumeration of names, but the 
 very marrow and spirit of the various works displayed before us. We have old ballads and 
 fairy tales, always fascinating] Ave have scenes from plays, and selections from the poets, 
 with most attractive biographies of great men. The songs and ballads are translated with 
 exquisite poetic beauty."— Sun. 
 
 RULE AND MISRULE OF THE ENGLISH IN 
 
 AMERICA. By the Author of " SAM SLICK." 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 " We conceive this work to be by far the most valuable and important Judge Haliburton 
 has ever written. While teeming with interest, moral and historical, to the general reader, 
 it equally constitutes a philosophical study for the politician and statesman. It will be found 
 to let in a flood of light upon the actual origin, formation, and progress of the republic of 
 the United States."— Naval and Military Gazette.
 
 HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 THE JOURNALS AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 GENERAL SIR HARRY CALVERT, Bart., G.C.B. and G.C.H., Ad- 
 jutant-General of the forces under H.R.II. the Duke of York, 
 comprising the Campaigns in Flanders and Holland in 1793-94; with an 
 Appendix containing His Plans for the Defence of the Country in case of 
 Invasion. Edited by His Son, SIR HARRY VERNEY, Bart. ' 1 vol. royal 
 8vo., with large maps, 14s. 
 
 " Both the journals and letters of Capt. Calvert are full of interest. The letters, in 
 particular, are entitled to much praise. Not too long, easy, graceful, not without wit, and 
 everywhere marked by good sense and good taste — the series addressed by Capt. Calvert to 
 his sister are literary compositions of no common order. With the best means of observing 
 the progress of the war, and with his faculties of judgment exercised and strengthened by 
 experience— a quick eye, a placid temper, and a natural aptitude for language rendered 
 Capt. Calvert in many respects a model of a military critic. Sir Harry Verney has per- 
 formed his duties of editor very well. The book is creditable to all parties concerned in its 
 production." — Athenceum. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY MILITARY LIFE. BY 
 
 COLONEL LANDMANN, Late of the Corps of Royal Engineers, 
 Author of " Adventures and Recollections." 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 " Much as has been written of late years about war and Wellington, we know of nothing 
 that contains so striking a picture of the march and the battle as seen by an individual, or so 
 close and homely a sketch of the Great Captain in the outset of the European career of Sir 
 Arthur Wellesley." — Spectator. 
 
 " The deserved popularity with which the previous volumes of Colonel Landmann's 
 adventures were received will be increased by the present portion of these interesting and 
 amusing records of a long life passed in active and arduous service. The Colonel's 
 shrewdness of observation renders his sketches of character highly amusing."— Britannia. 
 
 COLONEL LANDMANN'S ADVENTURES AND Re- 
 collections. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 " Among the anecdotes in this work will be found notices of King George III., the Dukes 
 of Kent, Cumberland, Cambridge, Clarence, and Richmond, the Princess Augusta, General 
 Garth, Sir Harry Mildmay, Lord Charles Somerset, Lord Edward Fitzgerald, Lord Heath- 
 field, Captain Grose, &c. The volumes abound in interesting matter. The anecdotes are 
 one and all amusing." — Observer. 
 
 "These 'Adventures and Recollections' are those of a gentleman whose birth and 
 profession gave him facilities of access to distinguished society. Colonel Landmann writes 
 so agreeably that we have little doubt that his volumes will be acceptable."— Athenaeum. 
 
 ADVENTURES OF THE CONNAUGHT RANGERS. 
 
 Second Series. By WILLIAM GRATTAN, Esq., late Lieutenant 
 Conn aught Rangers. 2 vols. 21s. 
 
 " In this second series of the adventures of this famous regiment, the author extends 
 his narrative from the first formation of the gallant 88th up to the occupation of Paris. All 
 the battles, sieges, and skirmishes, in which the regiment took part, are described.' The 
 volumes are interwoven with original anecdotes that give a freshness and spirit to the whole. 
 The stories, and the sketches of society and manners, with the anecdotes of the celebrities of 
 the time, are told in an agreeable and unaffected manner. The work bears all the character, 
 istics of a soldier's straightforward and entertaining narrative."— Sunday Times.
 
 10 HURST AND BL\CKETT's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 PAINTING AND CELEBRATED PAINTERS, AN- 
 
 CIENT and MODERN ; including Historical and Critical Notices of the 
 Schools of Italy, Spain, France, Germany, and the Netherlands. Edited by 
 LADY JERVIS. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 " This book is designed to give to the general public ■ popular knowledge of the History 
 of Painting and the characters of Painters, with especial reference to the most prominent 
 among those of their works which are to be seen in English galleries. It is pleasantly written 
 with the intention of serving a useful purpose. It succeeds in its design, and will be of real 
 use to the multitude of picture seers. As a piece of agreeable reading also, it is unex- 
 ceptionable."— Examiner. 
 
 " This useful and well-arranged compendium will be found of value to the amateur, and 
 pleasing as well as instructive to the general reader ; and, to give it still further praise, the 
 collector will find abundance of most useful information, and many an artist will rise from 
 the perusal of the work with a much clearer idea of his art than he had before. We sum up 
 its merits by recommending it as an acceptable handbook to the principal galleries, and a 
 trustworthy guide to a knowledge of the celebrated paintings in England, and that this 
 information is valuable and much required by many thousands is a well-proven fact."— 
 Sunday Times. 
 
 " In turning over Lady Jervis's pages, we are. astonished at the amount of knowledge 
 she has acquired. We can testify to the accuracy of her statements, and to the judiciousness 
 of her remarks. The work will deserve to take rank with those of Waagen and Passavant. 
 To the art-student's attention it is in every respect to be commended."— Messenger. 
 
 " It is not overstating the merits of the work to describe it as the most complete, and, at 
 the same time, one of the most trustworthy guides to a knowledge of the celebrated paintings 
 in England that has hitherto been published."— Observer. 
 
 CLASSIC AND HISTORIC PORTRAITS. BY JAMES 
 
 BRUCE. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 This work comprises Biographies of the following Classic and Historic Per- 
 sonages : — Sappho, iEsop, Pythagoras, Aspasia, Milto, Agesilaus, Socrates, Plato, 
 Alcibiades, Helen of Troy, Alexander the Great, Demetrius Poliorcetes, Scipio 
 Africanus, Sylla, Cleopatra, Julius Caesar, Augustus, Tiberius, Germanicus, 
 Caligula, Lollia Paulina, Cassonia, Boadicea, Agrippina, Poppaea, Otho, Commodus, 
 Caracalla, Heliogabalus, Zenobia, Julian the Apostate, Eudocia, Theodora, 
 Charlemagne, Abelard and Heloise, Elizaheth of Hungary, Dante, Robert Bruce, 
 Ignez de Castro, Agnes Sorrel, Jane Shore, Lucrezia Borgia, Anne Bullen, Diana 
 of Poitiers, Catherine de Medicis, Queen Elizabeth, Mary Queen of Scots, 
 Cervantes, Sir Kenelm Digby, John Sobieski, Anne of Austria; Ninon del'Enclos, 
 Mile, de Montpensier, the Duchess of Orleans, Madame de Maintenon, Catherine 
 of Russia, and Madame de Stael. 
 
 " A book which has many merits, most of all, that of a fresh and unhatknied subject. 
 The volumes are the result of a good deal of reading, and have besides ah original spirit and 
 flavour about them, which have pleased us much. Mr. Bruce is often eloquent, often 
 humorous, and has a proper appreciation of the wit and sarcasm belonging in abundance to 
 his theme. The variety and amount of information scattered through his volumes entitle 
 them to be generally read, and to be received on all hands with merited favour." — Examiner. 
 
 " We find in these piquant volumes the liberal outpourings of a ripe scholarship, the 
 results cf wide and various reading, given in a style and manner at once pleasant aud pictu- 
 resque." — Athenaeum.
 
 HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 11 
 
 MILITARY LIFE IN ALGERIA. BY THE COUNT P. 
 
 DE CASTELLANE. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 " We commend this book as really worth perusal. The volumes make us familiarly 
 acquainted with the nature of Algerian experience. St. Arnaud, Canrobert, Changarnier, 
 Cavaignac, Lamoriciere, are brought prominently before the reader."— Examiner. 
 
 "These volumes will be read with extraordinary interest. The vivid manner in which 
 the author narrates his adventures, and the number of personal anecdotes that he tells, 
 engage the reader's attention in an extraordinary manner."— Sunday Times. 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN ENGLISH SOLDIER IN 
 
 THE UNITED STATES' ARMY. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 " The novelty characterising these interesting volumes is likely to secure them many 
 readers. In the first place, an account of the internal organization, the manners and customs 
 of the United States' Federal Army, is in itself a novelty, and a still greater novelty is to 
 have this account rendered by a man who had served in the English before joining the 
 American army, and who can give his report after having every opportunity of comparison. 
 The author went through the Mexican campaign with General Scott, and his volumes 
 contain much descriptive matter concerning battles, sieges, and marches on Mexican 
 territory, besides their sketches of the normal chronic condition of the United States' soldier 
 in time of peace." — Daily News. 
 
 CANADA AS IT WAS, IS, AND MAY BE. BY THE 
 
 late LIEUTENANT-COLONEL SIR R. BONNYCASTLE. With an Account 
 of Recent Transactions, by SIR J. E. ALEXANDER, K.L.S., &c. 2 vols., 
 post 8vo. with maps, &c, 21s. 
 
 "These volumes offer to the British public a clear and trustworthy statement of the 
 affairs of Canada, and the effects of the immense public works in progress and completed ; 
 with sketches of locality and scenery, amusing anecdotes of personal observation, and gene- 
 rally every information which may be of use to the traveller or settler, and the military and 
 political reader.— Messenger. 
 
 ATLANTIC AND TRANSATLANTIC SKETCHES. BY 
 
 CAPTAIN MACKINNON, R.N. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 "Captain Mackinnon's sketches of America are of a striking character and permanent 
 value. His volumes convey a just impression of the United States, a fair and candid view of 
 their society and institutions, so well written and so entertaining that the effect of their- 
 perusal on the public here must be considerable. They are light, animated, and lively, full 
 of racy sketches, pictures of life, anecdotes of society, visits to remarkable men and famous 
 places, sporting episodes, &c, very original and interesting." — Sunday Times. 
 
 SPAIN AS IT IS. BY G. A. HOSKINS, ESQ. 
 
 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 " To the tourist this work will prove invaluable. It is the most complete and interesting 
 portraiture of Spain that has ever come under our notice." — John Bull. 
 
 HISTORY OF CORFU; AND OF THE REPUBLIC 
 
 OF THE IONIAN ISLANDS. By LIEUT. H. J. W. JERVIS, Royal 
 Artillery. 1 vol. post 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 
 " Written with great care and research, and including probably all the particulars of 
 any moment in the history of Corfu." — Athenaum.
 
 12 HURST AND BLACKETT's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 THE MOSLEM AND THE CHRISTIAN; OR, ADVEN- 
 
 TURES IN THE EAST. By SADYK PASHA. Revised with original 
 Notes, by COLONEL LACH SZYRMA, Editor of "Revelations of 
 Siberia." 3 vols, post 8vo. 31s. 6d. 
 
 " Sadyk Pasha, the author of this work, is a Pole of noble birth. He is now commander 
 of the Turkish Cossacks, a corps organised by himself . The volumes on the Moslem and 
 the Christian, partly fact and partly fiction, written by him, and translated by Colonel 
 Szyrma, display very well the literary spirit of the soldier. They are full of the adventures 
 and emotions that belong to love and war; they treat of the present time, they introduce 
 many existing people, and have the Danubian principalities for [scene of action. Here are 
 sources of popularity which the book fairly claims. As a translation, it is excellent.— 
 Examiner. 
 
 HOME LIFE IN RUSSIA. REVISED BY COL. LACH 
 
 SZYRMA, Editor of " Revelations of Siberia." 2 vols. post8vo. 21s. 
 
 "This work gives a very interesting and graphic account of the manners and customs of 
 the Russian people. The most interesting and amusing parts of the work will be found to be 
 those interior scenes in the houses of the wealthy and middle classes of Russia upon which 
 we have but scanty information, although they are some of the most striking and truthful 
 indications of the progress and civilization of a country. As such we recommend them to the 
 study of our readers." — Observer. 
 
 "A curious, extraordinary, and very entertaining memoir is contained in these volumes, 
 and at the present crisis cannot but command an eager perusal. The special recommenda- 
 tion of the work to us is the novel view and clear insight it affords Englishmen of the real 
 character of the Russians. Their sayings and doings, and the machinery of their society, are 
 all laid unsparingly bare."— Sunday Times. 
 
 " So little is known in this country of the internal condition of Russia, or the state of 
 society in that enormous empire, that the contents of these volumes will naturally be perused 
 with great curiosity. The volumes abound in lively dialogue, and are enlivened by satirical 
 and humorous touches, and the manners and customs of the individuals composing what is 
 called the middle rank in Russia are graphically described."— Morning Herald. 
 
 REVELATIONS OF SIBERIA. BY A BANISHED 
 
 LADY. Edited by COLONEL LACH SZYRMA. Third and cheaper 
 Edition. 2 vols, post 8vo. 16s. 
 
 " A thoroughly good book. It cannot be read by too many people."— Dickens's House- 
 hold Words. 
 
 " The authoress of these volumes was a lady of quality, who, having incurred the 
 displeasure of the Russian Government for a political offence, was exiled to Siberia. The 
 place of her exile was Berezov, the most northern part of this northern penal settlement ; and 
 in it she spent about two years, not unprofitably, as the reader will find by her interesting 
 work, containing a lively and graphic picture of the country, the people, their manners and 
 customs, &c. The book gives a most important aud valuable insight into the economy of 
 what has been hitherto the terra incognita of Russian despotism."— Daily News. 
 
 " Since the publication of the famous romance the * Exiles of Siberia,' we have had 
 no account of these desolate lands more attractive than the present work."— Globe.
 
 VOYAGES AND TRAVELS. 13 
 
 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY ROUND THE WORLD, 
 
 Comprising A Winter Passage across the Andes to Chili, with a 
 Visit to the Gold Regions of California and Australia, the South 
 Sea Islands, Java, &c By F. GERSTAECKER. 3 vols, post 8vo. 
 31s. Gd. 
 
 opinions of the press. 
 
 " Starting from Bremen for California, the author of this Narrative proceeded to Rio, 
 and thence to Buenos Ayres; where he exchanged the wild seas for the yet wilder Pampas, 
 and made his way on horseback to Valparaiso across the Cordilleras — a winter passage full of 
 difficulty and danger. From Valparaiso he sailed to California, and visited San Francisco, 
 Sacramento, and the mining districts generally. Thence he steered his course to the South 
 Sea Islands, resting at Honolulu, Tahiti, and other gems of the sea in that quarter, and from 
 thence to Sydney, marching through the Murray Valley, and inspecting the Adelaide district. 
 From Australia he dashed onward to Java, riding through the interior, and taking a general 
 survey of Batavia, with a glance at Japan and the Japanese. An active, intelligent, observant 
 man, the notes he made of his adventures are full of variety and interest. His descriptions of 
 places and persons are lively, and his remarks on natural productions and the phenomena of 
 earth, sea, and sky are always sensible, and made with a view to practical results. Those 
 portions of the Narrative which refer to California and Australia are replete with vivid 
 sketches ; and indeed the whole work abounds with living and picturesque descriptions of 
 men, manners, and localities." — Globe. 
 
 " Independently of great variety— for these pages are never monotonous or dull— a 
 pleasaut freshness pervades Mr. Gerstaecker's chequered narrative. It offers much to 
 interest, and conveys much valuable information, set forth in a very lucid and graphic 
 manner." — Athenceum. 
 
 "A book of travels of a superior kind, both as regards the varied information it con- 
 tains and the spirited style in which it is written."— Literary Gazette. 
 
 A SKETCHER'S TOUR ROUND THE WORLD. BY 
 
 ROBERT ELATES, Esq.. Second Edition, 1 vol. royal 8vo., Tvith 21 
 Coloured Illustrations from Original Designs by the Author. 21s. elegantly 
 bound, gilt edges. 
 
 " Combining in itself the best qualities of a library volume with that of a gift-book, is 
 Mr. Ehves' ' Sketcher's Tour.' It is an unaffected, well-written record of a tour of some 
 36,000 miles, and is accompanied by a number of very beautiful tinted lithographs, executed 
 by the author. These, as well as the literary sketches in the volume, deal most largely with 
 Southern and Spanish America,— whence the reader is afterwards taken by Lima to the 
 Sandwich Islands, is carried to and fro among the strange and exciting scenes of the 
 Pacific, — thence sails to the Australian coast, — passes to China, — afterwards to Singapore 
 and Bombay, — and so home by Egypt and Italy, The book is pleasantly written throughout, 
 and with the picturesque variety that cannot but belong to the description of a succession of 
 such scenes, is also full of interesting and instructive re arks." — Examiner. 
 
 "The garment in which this book comes forth seems to point out the drawing-room table 
 as its place of destination. The nature of its contents, — cheerful, lively letter-press— will 
 assure it a ready welcome there. Yet it is not, therefore, ineligible for the library shelf — even 
 for that shelf which is devoted to • Voyages Bound the World.' Pleasanter reading, we 
 repeat, need not be offered than our sketcher brings." — Athenceum
 
 14 HURST AND BLACKETT's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 AUSTRALIA AS IT IS : ITS SETTLEMENTS, FARMS, 
 
 AND GOLD FIELDS. By F. LANCELOT, Esq., Mineralogical Sur- 
 veyor in the Australian Colonies. Second Edition, revised. 2 vols, 
 post 8vo. 21s. 
 •* This is an unadorned account of the actual condition in which these colonies are found, 
 by a professional surveyor and mineralogist, who goes over the ground with a careful glance 
 and a remarkable aptitude for seizing on the practical portions of the subject. On the 
 climate, the vegetation, and the agricultural resources of the country, he is copious in the 
 extreme, and to the intending emigrant an invaluable instructor. As may be expected from 
 a scientific hand, the subject of gold digging undergoes a thorough manipulation. Mr. 
 Lancelot dwells with minuteness on the several indications, stratifications, varieties of soil, 
 and methods of working, experience has pointed out, and offers a perfect manual of the new 
 craft to the adventurous settler. Nor has he neglected to provide him with information as to 
 the sea voyage, and all its accessories, the commodities most in request at the antipodes, and 
 a general view of social wants, family management, &c, such as a shrewd and observant 
 counsellor, aided by old resident authorities, can afford. As a guide to the auriferous regions, 
 as well as the pastoral solitudes of Australia, the work is unsurpassed." — Globe. 
 
 " We advise all about to emigrate to take this book as a counsellor and companion." — 
 Lloyd's Weekly Paper. 
 
 A LADY'S VISIT TO THE GOLD DIGGINGS OF 
 
 AUSTRALIA. By MRS. CLACY. 1 vol. 10s. 6d. 
 
 " The most pithy and entertaining of all the books that have been written on the gold 
 diggings." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 "Mrs. Clacy's book will be read with considerable interest, and not without profit. 
 Her statements and advice will be most useful among her own sex." — Athenceum. 
 
 " Mrs. Clacy tells her story well. Her book is the most graphic account of the diggings 
 and the gold country in general that is to be had." — Daily News. 
 
 " We recommend this work as the emigrant's vade 77iecum." — Home Companion. 
 
 LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 
 
 By MRS. CLACY. Author of « A Lady's Visit to the Gold Diggings." 
 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 "In these volumes Mrs. Clacy has presented life in Australia in all its varied aspects. 
 An intimate acquaintance with the country, and with the circumstances in which settlers and 
 emigrants find themselves, has enabled the writer to impart to her narrative a character of 
 truthfulness and life-like animation, which renders them no less instructive than charming. 
 The book is throughout exceedingly attractive." — John Bull. 
 
 "While affording amusement to the general reader, these • Lights and Shadows of 
 Australian Life,' are full of useful hints to intending emigrants, and will convey to friends at 
 home acceptable information as to the country where so many now have friends or relatives.** 
 — Literary Gazette. 
 
 " These volumes consist of a series of very interesting tales, founded on facts, in which the 
 chief features of a settler's life are shown. To intending emigrants the work will be specially 
 attractive, but the ordinary novel reader will find that these narratives are more likely to 
 amuse an idle hour than more ambitious productions — possessing, as they do, the charm of 
 truth with the fascination of fiction."— -Su?i.
 
 VOYAGES AND TRAVELS. 15 
 
 TRAVELS IN EUROPEAN TURKEY: THROUGH 
 
 Bosnia, Servia, Bulgaria, Macedonia, Roumelia, Albania, and 
 Epirds ; with a Visit to Greece and the Ionian Isles, and a Home- 
 ward Tour through Hungary and the Sclavonian Provinces op 
 Austria on the Lower Danube. By EDMUND SPENCER, Escu 
 Author of " Travels in Circassia," etc. Second and Cheaper Edition, in 
 2 vols. 8vo., with Illustrations, and a valuable Map of European Turkey 
 from the most recent Charts in the possession of the Austrian and Turkish 
 Governments, revised by the Author, 18s. 
 
 "These important volumes describe some of those countries to which public attention 
 is now more particularly directed : Turkey, Greece, Hungary, and Austria. The author has 
 given us a most interesting picture of the Turkish Empire, its weaknesses, and the embar- 
 rassments from which it is now suffering, its financial difficulties, the discontent of its 
 Christian, and the turbulence of a great portion of its Mohammedan subjects. We cordially 
 recommend Mr. Spencer's valuable and interesting volumes to the attention of the reader." — 
 U. S. Magazine. 
 
 " This interesting work contains by far the most complete, the most enlightened, and 
 the most reliable amount of what has been hitherto almost the terra incognita of European 
 Turkey, and supplies the reader with abundance of entertainment as well as instruction." — 
 John Bull. 
 
 A TOUR OF INQUIRY THROUGH FRANCE AND 
 
 ITALY, Illustrating their Present Social, Political, and Religious 
 Condition. By EDMUND SPENCER, Esq., Author of " Travels in 
 European Turkey," " Circassia," ccc. 2 vols, post Svo. 21s. 
 
 ** Mr. Spencer has travelled through France and Italy, with the eyes and feelings of a 
 Protestant philosopher. His volumes contain much valuable matter, many judicious remarks, 
 and a great deal of useful information." — Morning Chronicle. 
 
 ARCTIC MISCELLANIES, A SOUVENIR OF THE 
 
 LATE POLAR SEARCH. By the OFFICERS and SEAMEN of the 
 EXPEDITION. Dedicated by permission to the Lords of the 
 Admiralty. Second Edition. 1 vol., •svith numerous Illustrations. 
 10*. 6 d. 
 
 " This volume is not the least interesting or instructive among the records of the late 
 expedition in search of Sir John Franklin, commanded by Captain Austin. The most 
 valuable portions of the book are those which relate to the scientific and practical observations 
 made in the course of the expedition, and the descriptions of scenery and incidents of arctic 
 travel. From the variety of the materials, and the novelty of the scenes and incidents to 
 which they refer, no less than the interest which attaches to all that relates to the probable 
 safety of Sir John Franklin and his companions, the Arctic Miscellanies forms a very 
 readable book, and one that redounds to the honour of the national character."— The Times.
 
 16 HURST AND BLACKETT S NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN CEYLON. BY W. KNIGHTON, M.A., 
 
 formerly Secretary to the Ceylon Branch Royal Asiatic Society. 
 Second Edition, 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 " A very clever and amusing book, by one who has lived as a planter and journalist many 
 years in Ceylon. The work is filled with interesting accounts of the sports, resources, pro- 
 ductions, scenery, and traditions of the island. The sporting adventures are narrated in a 
 very spirited manner." — Standard. 
 
 " We have not met with a more delightful book for along time past." — Lit. Gaz. 
 
 "We have no recollection of a more interesting or instructive work on Ceylon and the 
 Cingalese than that which Mr. Knighton lias just given to the world. It displays a greatdeal of 
 acuteness and sagacity in its observation of men and manners, and contains a vast deal of 
 useful information on topics, historical, political, and commercial, and has the charm of a 
 fluent and graphic style."— Morning Post. 
 
 TROPICAL SKETCHES; OR, REMINISCENCES OF 
 
 AN INDIAN JOURNALIST. BY W. KNIGHTON, M.A., Author of 
 " Forest Life in Ceylon." 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 "When Mr. Knighton's pleasant volumes on Ceylon were published, we freely gave his 
 publication the praise which it appears to have well deserved, since another edition has been, 
 calledfor. Amongst the writers of the day, we know of none who are more felicitous in hitting off 
 with an amusing accuracy, the characters he has met with, and his descriptive powers are first- 
 rate. Take his Sketches up and open where you will, he touches upon topics of varied 
 nature— now political, anon historical or commercial, interspersed with traits of society and 
 manners, every page teeming with information, combined with lively detail. His style, indeed, 
 is eminently attractive. There is no weariness comes over the reader with Mr. Knighton's 
 work before him — all is vivacity. The Tropical Sketches contains the result of the author's 
 experience in the East in various capacities, but he is chiefly at home when he enters upon 
 the narrative of his mission as a journalist. His revelations of his labours in an educational 
 capacity, are highly amusing, and there is an added charm to the volumes that the impress 
 of fidelity is stamped on every page. In short, Tropical Sketches maybe set down as the work 
 of a man of education and refinement, gifted with a keen observation for all that is passing 
 around him ; such a publication cannot fail in being both amusing and instructive."— Sunday 
 Times. 
 
 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST INDIES. BY CHARLES 
 
 W. DAY,Esa. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 "It would be unjust to deny the vigour, brilliancy and varied interest of this work, the 
 abundant stores of anecdote andincident, and the copious detail of local habits and peculiarities 
 in each island visited in succession."— Globe. 
 
 TRAVELS IN INDIA AND KASHMIR. BY BARON 
 
 SCHONBERG. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 " This account of a Journey through India and Kashmir will be read with considerable 
 interest. Whatever came in his way worthy of record the author committed to writing, and 
 the result is an entertaining and instructive miscellany of information on the country, its 
 climate, its natural production, its history and antiquities, and the character, the religion, 
 and the social condition of its inhabitants." — John Bull.
 
 VOYAGES AND TRAVELS. 17 
 
 EIGHTEEN YEARS ON THE GOLD COAST OF 
 
 AFRICA; including an Account of the Native Tribes, and their 
 intercourse with Europeans. By BRODIE CRUICKSHANK, Member 
 of the Legislative Council, Cape Coast Castle. 2 vols, post 8vo. 
 21s. 
 
 "This is one of the most interesting works that ever yet came into our hands. It 
 possesses the charm of introducing us to habits and manners of the human family of which 
 before we had no conception. Mrs. Beecher Stowe*s work has, indeed, made us all familiar 
 with the degree of intelligence and the disposition of the transplanted African ; but it has 
 been reserved to Mr. Cruickshank to exhibit the children of Ham in their original state, and 
 to prove, as his work proves to demonstration, that, by the extension of a knowledge of the 
 Gospel, and by that only can the African be brought within the pale of civilization. We 
 anxiously desire to direct public attention to a work so valuable. An incidental episode in 
 the work is an affecting narrative of the death of the gifted Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) 
 written a few months after her marriage with Governor Maclean." — Standard. 
 
 EIGHT YEARS IN PALESTINE, SYRIA, AND ASIA 
 
 MINOR. By F. A. NEALE, Esq., Late Attached to the Consular 
 Service in Syria. Second Edition, 2 vols, post 8vo. with Illustrations, 
 21s. 
 " A very agreeable book. Mr. Neale is evidently quite familiar with the East, and writes 
 
 in a lively, shrewd, and good-humoured manner. A great deal of information is to be found 
 
 in his pages." — Athenceum. 
 
 KHARTOUM AND THE NILES. BY GEORGE MELLY, 
 
 Esq. Second Edition. 2 vols, post 8vo., with Maps and Illustra- 
 tions, 21s. 
 
 " Mr. Melly is of the same school of travel as the author of ' Eothen.' His book 
 altogether is very agreeable, comprising, besides the description of Khartoum, many in- 
 telligent illustrations of the relations now subsisting between the Governments of the Sultan 
 and the Pacha, and exceedingly graphic sketches of Cairo, the Pyramids, the Plain of Thebes, 
 the Cataracts, &c." — Examiner. 
 
 TRAVELS IN BOLIVIA; WITH A TOUR ACROSS 
 
 THE PAMPAS TO BUENOS AYRES. BY L. HUGH DE BONNELI, of 
 
 Her Britannic Majesty's Legation. 2 vols, post Svo. 21s. 
 
 " Mr. Bonelli's official position gave him great opportunities of observation, of which 
 he has freely availed himself, and he has furnished us with a very interesting and amusing 
 book of travels respecting a country whose political and commercial importance is becoming 
 every day more obvious." — Observer. 
 
 THE ANSYREEH AND ISMAELEEH: A VISIT TO 
 
 THE SECRET SECTS OF NORTHERN SYRIA, with a View to the 
 Establishment of Schools. BY THE REV. S. LYDE, M.A., Late 
 Chaplain at Beyrout. 1 vol. 10s. 6d. 
 
 " Mr. Lyde's pages furnish a very good illustration of the present state of some of the 
 east known parts of Syria. Mr. Lyde visited the most important districts of the Ansyreeh, 
 lived with them, and conversed with their sheiks or chief men. The practical aim of the 
 author gives his volumes an interest which works of greater pretension want." — Athenceum.
 
 18 HURST AND BLACKETT's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 SAM SLICK'S NEW WORK, NATURE AND HUMAN 
 
 NATURE. 2 vols, post 8vo. 24s. 
 
 " Since Sam Slick's /first work he has written nothing so fresh, racy, and genuinely 
 humorous as this. Every line of it tells some way or other ; instructively, satirically, 
 jocosely, or wittily. Admiration at Sam's mature talents, and laughter at his droll yarns, 
 constantly alternate, as with unhalting avidity we peruse these last volumes of his. They 
 consist of 25 Chapters, each containing a tale, a sketch, or an adventure. In every one of 
 them, the Clockmaker proves himself the fastest time killer a-going." — Observer, 
 
 SAM SLICK'S WISE SAWS AND MODERN 
 
 INSTANCES ; or, What he Said, Did, or Invented. Second Edition. 
 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 " We do not fear to predict that these delightful volumes will be the most popular, as 
 beyond doubt, they are the best, of all Judge Halliburton's admirable works. The ' Wise 
 Saws and Modern Instances' evince powers of imagination and expression far beyond what 
 even his former publications could lead any one to ascribe to the author. We have, it is true 
 long been familiar with his quaint humour and racy narrative, but the volumes before us 
 take a loftier range, and are so rich in fun and good sense, that to offer an extract as a 
 sample would be an injustice to author and reader. It is one of the pleasantest books we 
 ever read, and we earnestly recommend it."— Standard. 
 
 " Let Sam Slick go a mackarel fishing, or to court in England— let him venture alone 
 among a tribe of the sauciest single women that ever banded themselves together in electric 
 chain to turn tables or to mystify man — our hero always manages to come off with flying 
 colours — to beat every craftsman in the cunning of his own calling — to get at the heart of 
 every maid's and matron's secret. The book before us will be read and laughed over. Its 
 quaint and racy dialect will please some readers — its abundance of yarns will amuse others. 
 There is something in the volumes to suit readers of every humour." — Athenaeum. 
 
 " The humour of Sam Slick is inexhaustible. He is ever and everywhere a welcome 
 visitor ; smiles greet his approach, and wit and wisdom hang upon his tongue. The present 
 is altogether a most edifying production, remarkable alike for its racy humour, its sound 
 philosophy, the felicity of its illustrations, and the delicacy of its satire. We promise our 
 readers a great treat from the perusal of these 'Wise Saws and Modern Instances,' which 
 contain a world of practical wisdom, and a treasury of the richest fun." — Morning Post. 
 
 THE AMERICANS AT HOME; OR, BYEWAYS, 
 
 BACKWOODS, AND PRAIRIES. Edited by the Author of "SAM 
 SLICK." 3 vols, post Svo. 31s. Gd. 
 
 " In the picturesque delineation of character, and the felicitous portraiture of national 
 features, no writer of the present day equals Judge Halibmton. • The Americans at Home ' 
 will not be less popular than any of his previous works." — Vost. 
 
 TRAITS OF AMERICAN HUMOUR. EDITED BY 
 
 the Author of " SAM SLICK." 3 vols, post Svo. 31s. 6d. 
 
 " No man has done more than the facetious Judge Haliburton, through the mouth of 
 the inimitable ' Sam,' to make the old parent country recognize and appreciate her queer 
 transatlantic progeny. His present collection of comic stories and laughable traits is a 
 budget of fun full of rich specimens of American humour." — Globe.
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 19 
 
 THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF MARY RUSSELL 
 
 MITFORD. Author of" Our Village," " Atherton," &c. 2 vols, post 8vo. 
 with Portrait of the Author and other Illustrations. 21s. 
 
 " We recommend Miss Mitford's dramas heartily to all by whom they are unknown. A 
 more graceful addition could not be made to any collection of dramatic works." — Blackwood's 
 Magazine. 
 
 " Miss Mitford has collected into one chaplet the laurels gathered in her prime of author- 
 ship, and she has given it to the world with a graceful and loving letter of reminiscence and 
 benediction. Laid by the side of the volume of dramatic works of Joanna Baillie, these 
 volumes suffer no disparagement. This is high praise, and it is well deserved." — Athenceum. 
 
 " Miss Mitford's plays and dramatic scenes form very delightful reading." — Examiner. 
 
 " The high reputation which Miss Mitford has acquired as a dramatist will insure a 
 hearty welcome to this collected edition of her dramatic works."— John Bull. 
 
 DARIEN; OR, THE MERCHANT PRINCE. BY ELIOT 
 
 WARBURTON. Second Edition. 3 vols, post 8vo. 
 
 "The scheme for the colonization of Darien by Scotchmen, and the opening of a com- 
 munication between the East and West across the Isthmus of Panama, furnishes the founda- 
 tion of this story, which is in all respects worthy of the high reputation which the author of 
 the ' Crescent and the Cross' had already made for himself. The early history of the ' Merchant 
 Prince' introduces the reader to the condition of Spain under the Inquisition ; the portraitures 
 of Scottish life which occupy a prominent place in the narrative, are full of spirit ; the scenes 
 in America exhibit the state of the natives of the New World at that period j the daring deeds 
 of the Buccaneers supply a most romantic element in the story ; and an additional interest 
 is infused into it by the introduction of the various celebrated characters of the period, such 
 as Law, the French financier, and Paterson, the founder of the Bank of England. All these 
 varied ingredients are treated with that brilliancy of style and powerful descriptive talent, by 
 which the pen of Eliot Warburton was so eminently distinguished."— John Bull. 
 
 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A MISSIONARY. BY 
 
 THE REV. J. P. FLETCHER. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 •'We conscientiously recommend this book, as well for its amusing character as for 
 the spirit it displays of earnest piety." — Standard. 
 
 SCENES FROM SCRIPTURE. BY THE REV. G. 
 
 CROLY, LL.D. 10s. 6d. 
 
 "Eminent in every mode of literature, Dr. Croly stands, in our judgment, first among 
 the living poets of Great Britain — the only man of our day entitled by his power to venture 
 within the sacred circle of religious poets." — Standard. 
 
 "An admirable addition to the library of religious families." — John Bull. 
 
 THE SONG OF ROLAND, AS CHANTED BEFORE 
 
 THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS, BY THE MINSTREL TAILLEFER. 
 
 Translated by the Author of "EMILIA WYNDHAM." Small 4to., 
 
 handsomely bound, gilt edges, 5s. 
 " ' The Song of Roland' is well worth general perusal. It is spirited and descriptive, 
 and gives an important, and, no doubt, faithful picture of the chivalric manners and feelings 
 of the age." — Morning Herald.
 
 20 HURST AND BLACKETT S NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 FAMILY ROMANCE; OR, DOMESTIC ANNALS OF 
 
 THE ARISTOCRACY. BY SIR BERNARD BURKE, Ulster King of 
 Arms. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 Among the many other interesting legends and romantic family histories com- 
 prised in these volumes, will be found the following : — The wonderful narrative 
 of Maria Stella, Lady Newborough, who claimed on such strong evidence to be 
 a Princess of the House of Orleans, and disputed the identity of Louis Philippe — 
 The story of the humble marriage of the beautiful Countess of Strathmore, and 
 the sufferings and fate of her only child — The Leaders of Fashion, from Gramont 
 to D'Orsay — The rise of the celebrated Baron Ward, now T Prime Minister at 
 Parma — The curious claim to the Earldom of Crawford — The Strange Vicissitudes 
 of our Great Families, replete with the most romantic details — The story of the 
 Kirkpatricks of Closeburn (the ancestors of the French Empress), and the re- 
 markable tradition associated with them — The Legend of the Lambtons — Tire 
 verification in our own time of the famous prediction as to the Earls of Mar- 
 Lady Ogilvy's escape — The Beresford and Wynyard ghost stories correctly told — 
 &c. &c. 
 
 "It were impossible to praise too highly as a work of amusement these two most in- 
 teresting volumes, whether we should have regard to its excellent plan or its not less ex- 
 cellent execution. The volumes are just what ought to be found on every drawing-room table. 
 Here you have nearly fifty captivating romances with the pith of all their interest preserved 
 in undiminished poignancy, and any one may be read in half an hour. It is not the least of 
 their merits that the romances are founded on fact— or what, at least, has been handed down 
 for truth by long tradition— and the romance of reality far exceeds the romance of fiction. 
 Each story is told in the clear, unaffected style with which the author's former works 
 have made the public familiar, while they afford evidence of the value, even to a work of 
 amusement, of that historical and genealogical learning that may justly be expected of the 
 author of ' The Peerage.' "Standard. 
 
 " The very reading for sea-side or fire-side in our hours of idleness." — Athenaeum. 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE FORUM; OR, NARRA- 
 TIVES, SCENES, AND ANECDOTES FROM COURTS OF JUSTICE, 
 SECOND SERIES. BY PETER BURKE, Esa., of 'the Inner Temple, 
 Barrister-at-Law. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 PRINCIPAL CONTENTS :— Lord Crichton's Revenge— The Great Douglas 
 Cause — Lord and Lady Kinnaird — Marie Delorme and Her Husband — The 
 Spectral Treasure — Murders in Inns of Court — Matthieson the Forger — Trials 
 that established the Illegality of Slavery — The Lover Highwayman — The 
 Accusing Spirit — The Attorney- General of the Reign of Terror — Eccentric 
 Occurrences in the Law — Adventuresses of Pretended Rank — The Courier of 
 Lyons — General Sarrazin's Bigamy — The Elstree Murder — Count Bocarme and 
 his wife — Professor Webster, &c. 
 
 " We have no hesitation in recommending this, as one of the most interesting works 
 that have been lately given to the public." — Morning Chronicle 
 
 " The favour with which the first series of this publication was received, has induced 
 Mr. Burke to extend his researches, which he has done with great judgment. The incidents 
 forming the subject of the second series are as extraordinary in every respect, as those which 
 obtained so high a meed of celebrity for the first. Some of the tales could scarcely be believed 
 to be founded in fact, or to be records of events that have startled the world, were there not 
 the incontestable evidence which Mr. Burke has established to prove that they have 
 actually happened."— Messenger.
 
 WORKS OF FICTION. 
 
 21 
 
 BY MRS. TROLLOPE. 
 
 THE LIFE AND ADVEN- 
 TURES OF A CLEVER 
 WOMAN. 
 
 " The ' Clever Woman ' is of the same 
 class with the 'Vicar of Wrexhill,' and 
 'Widow Barnaby.' It is the best novel 
 the season has produced. No person can 
 fail to be amused by it." — Critic. 
 
 " Mrs. Trollope has done full justice to 
 her well-earned reputation as one of tbe 
 cleverest novelists of the day in this 
 new production of her fertile pen." — 
 John Bull. 
 
 UNCLE WALTER. 
 
 3 vols. 
 *" Uncle Walter ' is an exceedingly en- 
 tertaining novel. It assures Mrs. Trollope 
 more than ever in her position as one of 
 the ablest fiction writers of the day." — 
 Morning Post. 
 
 THE YOUNG HEIRESS. 
 
 3 vols. 
 
 " The knowledge of the world which 
 Mrs. Trollope possesses in so eminent a 
 degree is strongly exhibited in the pages 
 of this novel." — Observer. 
 
 BY MRS. GORE. 
 
 MAMMON; OR, THE HARDSHIPS OF AN HEIRESS. 
 
 3 vols. 
 
 THE DEAN'S DAUGHTER. PROGRESS & PREJUDICE. 
 
 3 vols. 
 
 "One of the best of Mrs. Gore's 
 stories. The volumes are strewed with 
 smart and sparkling epigram." — Morning 
 Chronicle. 
 
 3 vols. 
 
 " This entertaining and particularly 
 clever novel is not to be analysed, but 
 to be praised, and that emphatically." — 
 Examiner, 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OP MARGARET MAITLAND. 
 
 MAGDALEN HEPBURN; 
 
 A STORY OF THE SCOTTISH REFORMATION. 
 
 3 vols. 
 
 " ' Magdalen Hepburn will sustain the 
 reputation which the author of * Margaret 
 Maitland' has acquired. It is a well 
 prepared and carefully executed picture 
 of the society and state of manners in 
 Scotland at the dawn of the Reforma- 
 tion. John Knox is successfully drawn." 
 — Athenaeum. 
 
 "' Magdalen Hepburn ' is a story of the 
 Scottish Reformation, with John Knox 
 prominently introduced among the dra- 
 matis personae. The book is thoroughly 
 enjoyable, pleasant women move to and 
 fro in it, characters are well discrimi- 
 nated, and there is a sense everywhere of 
 the right and good, as well as the pictu- 
 resque." — Examiner. 
 
 ADAM GRAEME, 
 OF MOSSGRAY. 
 
 3 vols. 
 
 "A story awakening genuine emotions 
 of interest and delight by its admirable 
 pictures of Scottish life and scenery."— 
 Post. 
 
 HARRY MUIR. 
 
 Second Edition. 3 vols. 
 
 "We prefer 'Harry Muir ' to most of 
 the Scottish novels that have appeared 
 since Gait's domestic stories. This new 
 tale, by the author of ' Margaret Mait- 
 land,' is a real picture of the weakness of 
 man's nature and the depths of woman's 
 kindness. The narrative, to repeat our 
 praise, is not one to be entered on or 
 parted from without our regard for its 
 writer being increased." — Athenceum. 
 
 " This is incomparably the best of the 
 author's works. In it the brilliant pro- 
 mise afforded by ' Margaret Maitland ' 
 has been fully realised, and now there 
 can be no question that, for graphic pic- 
 tures of Scottish life, the author is en- 
 titled to be ranked second to none among 
 modern writers of fiction." — Caledonian 
 Mercury. 
 
 CALEB FIELD. A TALE. 
 
 1 vol. 6*. 
 
 " This beautiful production is every way 
 worthy of its author's reputation in the 
 very first rank of contemporary writers."— 
 Standard.
 
 22 
 
 WORKS OF FICTION. 
 
 CONSTANCE HERBERT. 
 
 By Geraldine Jewsbury. 
 
 Author of "Marian Withers," "Zob," 
 &c. 3 vols. 
 
 OAKLEIGH MASCOTT. 
 
 By L. Howe. 
 Dedicated to Professor Aytoun. 2 vols. 
 
 "A very clever romance. The style 
 throughout is fluent and forcible, and 
 many of the scenes are sketched witfi 
 considerable graphic power."— Morning 
 Post. 
 
 ANTIPODES; 
 
 Or, THE NEW EXISTENCE. 
 
 A TALE OF REAL LIFE. 
 
 By a Clergyman. 3 vols. 
 
 HERBERT LAKE. 
 
 By the Author of "Anne Dysart." 
 
 3 vols. 
 ■' Many and various are the cross pur- 
 poses of love which run through this 
 cleverly-written tale, from the pen of the 
 talented author of ' Anne Dysart.' While 
 administering largely to the entertainment 
 of the reader, the Author has added to 
 a well-earned reputation."— John Bull. 
 
 THE YOUNG HUSBAND. 
 
 By Mrs. Grey, Author of "The Gam- 
 bler's Wife," &c. 3 vols. 
 
 "In this fascinating novel Mrs. Grey 
 has surpassed her former productions, 
 talented and powerful as they were." — 
 John Bull. 
 
 "The merit of producing an admirable 
 story may be justly awarded to Mrs. 
 Grey." — Sunday Times. 
 
 THE CURATE OP OVERTON. 
 
 "A powerfully written story, the cha- 
 racters and incidents of which are por- 
 trayed with great skill." — John Bull. 
 
 " The startling secession of such men 
 as Newman, Manning, and Wilberforce, 
 renders the revelations which the author 
 has made in these interesting and instruc- 
 tive volumes extremely well-timed." — Bri- 
 tannia. 
 
 CONFESSIONS 
 OF AN ETONIAN. 
 
 By C. Rowcroft, Esq. 
 3 vols. 
 
 VTVTA. 
 
 By Mrs. J. E. Dalrymple. 
 Dedicated to Sir E. Bulwer Lytton. 2 vols. 
 
 " ' Vivia is an excellent novel. Mr3. 
 Dalrymple paints society in its true 
 colours. We heartily congratulate her 
 upon a production which displays such 
 high purpose, wrought out with so much 
 ability." — Post. 
 
 MATHEW PAXTON. 
 
 Edited by the Author of " John Dray- 
 ton," " AlLIEFORD," &C 3 VOlS. 
 
 " • Mathew Paxton ' bears a strong 
 generic resemblance to those clever stories 
 • John Drayton ' and ' Ailieford,' and 
 awakens in the perusal a kindred gratifi- 
 cation. It displays the same simple 
 pathos, the same homely humour, the 
 same truth to nature, and the same fine 
 sense of national peculiarity." — Post. 
 
 AILIEFORD. 
 
 A FAMILY HISTORY. 
 By the Author of " John Drayton." 3 v. 
 
 "'Ailieford' is the biography of the 
 clever writer of * John Drayton.' It is a 
 deeply interesting tale." — Britannia. 
 
 A PHYSICIAN'S TALE. 
 
 3 vols. 
 
 *' A vast amount of thought and know- 
 ledge is displayed in this work. Many 
 various phases of society, and different 
 gradations of character, are dexterously 
 given to sight." — Sun. 
 
 CREWE RISE. 
 
 By John C. Jeaffreson. 3 vols. 
 
 "A clever novel, and one that, without 
 any great wealth or diversity of incident, 
 contrives to be de.eply interesting. The 
 career of a brilliant young man at college 
 — his temptations, errors, and resolute 
 self-redemption from evil courses — makes 
 the main interest of the story, which is set 
 forth with a vigour and reality that looks 
 like a daguerreotype from facts." — Athe- 
 nceum. 
 
 EDWARD WILLOUGHBY. 
 
 By the Author of "The Discipline of 
 Life." 3 vols. 
 " We like all Lady Emily Ponsonby's 
 novels, and this is, in our judgment, the 
 best of them." — Morning Post. 
 
 PHEMIE MILLAR. 
 
 By the Author of " The Kinnears." 3 v. 
 
 " We feel obliged to the author for 
 giving us such a fresh pleasant story as 
 ' Phemie Millar.' Out of the homeliest of 
 details a certain fascination is evoked 
 which ensures the reader interest to the 
 end." — Athenaeum. 
 
 i
 
 WORKS OF FICTION. 
 
 23 
 
 REGINALD LYLE. 
 
 By Miss Pardoe. 3 v. 
 "An excellent novel, containing a great 
 variety of well-drawn characters, and 
 keeping up the interest of the reader to 
 the last page." — Atlas. 
 
 FLORENCE, 
 THE BEAUTIFUL. 
 
 By A. Baillie Cochrane, Esq. 2 v. 
 
 "The best story that has yet appeared 
 from the pen of the talented author." — 
 Herald. 
 
 THE SECRET HISTORY 
 OF A HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 By the Author of 
 "Alice We.vtworth." 3 vols. 
 
 ALICE WENTWORTH. 
 
 3 vols. 
 "This novel reminds us of the tales by 
 Lady Scott, which had power and pathos 
 enough to get a hearing and keep a place, 
 even though Lister, Ward, and Bulwer 
 were all in the field, with their manly 
 experiences of modern life and society." — 
 Ath$ncmm. 
 
 JANET MOWBRAY. 
 
 By Caroline Grautoff. 3 v. 
 "This very pleasant tale of 'Janet 
 Mowbray ' is a love story — and a very 
 good one — full of agreeable variety and 
 interest." — Examiner. 
 
 THE ROSES. 
 
 3v. 
 
 By the Author of " The Flirt. 
 
 •"The Roses ' displays, with the polish 
 always attending a later work, all the 
 talent which appeared in 'The Flirt,' and 
 •The Manoeuvring Mother."' — Standard. 
 
 CHARLES AUCHESTER. 
 
 3 vols. 
 "Music has never had so glowing an 
 advocate as the author of these volumes. 
 There is an amazing deal of ability dis- 
 played in them." — Herald. 
 
 THE KINNEARS- 
 
 A SCOTTISH STORY. 3 V. 
 
 THE LADY 
 AND THE PRIEST. 
 
 By Mrs. Maberly. 3 vols. 
 
 THE COLONEL. 
 
 By the Author of " Perils of Fashion." 
 3 vols. 
 
 THE VILLAGE 
 MILLIONNAIRE. 
 
 By the Author of "The Fortunes of 
 Woman." 3 vols. 
 "Great diversity of character and an 
 endless succession of surprising incidents 
 and vicissitudes impart an absorbing inte- 
 rest to this new production of Miss 
 Lamont's pen." — John Bull. 
 
 MARY SEAHAM. 
 
 By Mrs. Grey. 3 vols. 
 " Equal to any former novel by its 
 author." — Athenaeum. 
 
 AUBREY. 
 
 By the Author of "Emilia Wyndham." 
 
 3 vols. 
 
 "This novel is worthy of the author's 
 reputation. The interest of the story is 
 powerfully kept up, and there is much 
 truthful and discriminating depicting of 
 character." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 CASTLE AVON. 
 
 By the Author of "Emilia Wyndham-. - 
 3 vols. 
 
 " One of the most successful of the au- 
 thor's works." — Post. 
 
 "These volumes abound in delicate 
 and passionate writing." — Examiner. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER 
 OF THE SOUTH. 
 
 By Mrs. Clara Walbey. 3 vols. 
 Dedicated to the Earl of Carlisle. 
 
 ANNETTE. A TALE. 
 
 By W. F. Deacon. 
 
 With a Memoir of the Author, by the 
 Hon. Sir T. N. Talfourd, D.C.L. 3 vols. 
 "'Annette' 53 a stirring tale. The pre- 
 fatory memoir of Sir Thomas Talfourd 
 would be at all times interesting, nor the 
 less so for containing two long letters from 
 Sir Walter Scott to Mr. Deacon, full of 
 gentle far-thinking wisdom." — Examiner. 
 
 LADY MARION. 
 
 By Mrs. W. Foster. 
 3 vols. 
 
 THE BELLE 
 OF THE VILLAGE. 
 
 By the Author of "The Old English 
 Gentleman." 
 
 3 vols.
 
 THE ARMY AND THE NAVY. 
 
 COLBURN'S UNITED SERVICE MAGAZINE, AND 
 
 NAVAL AND MILITARY JOURNAL. Published on the first of every 
 month, price 3s. 6d. 
 
 This popular periodical, which has now been established a quarter of a century, 
 embraces subjects of such extensive variety and powerful interest as must render 
 it scarcely less acceptable to readers in general than to the members of those pro- 
 fessions for whose use it is more particularly intended. Independently of a suc- 
 cession of Original Papers on innumerable interesting subjects, Personal Nar- 
 ratives, Historical Incidents, Correspondence, etc., each number comprises 
 Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Officers of all branches of service, Reviews of 
 New Publications, either immediately relating to the Army or Navy, or involving 
 subjects of utility or interest to the members of either, full Reports of Trials 
 by Courts Martial, Distribution of the Army and Navy, General Orders, Circulars, 
 Promotions, Appointments, Births, Marriages, Obituary, etc., with all the Naval 
 and Military Intelligence of the month. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 " This is confessedly one of the ablest and most attractive periodicals of which the 
 British press can boast, presenting a wide field of entertainment to the general as well as 
 professional reader. The suggestions for the benefit of the two services are distinguished 
 by vigour of sense, acute and practical observation, an ardent love of discipline, tempered by 
 a high sense of justice, honour, and a tender regard for the welfare and comfort of our soldiers 
 and seamen." — Globe. 
 
 " At the head of those periodicals which furnish usefu and valuable information to- 
 their peculiar classes of readers, as well as amusement to the general body of the public, 
 must be placed the ' United Service Magazine, and Naval and Military Journal.' It numbers 
 among its contributors almost all those gallant spirits who have done no less honour 
 to their country by their swords than by their pens, and abounds with the most interesting 
 discussions on naval and military affairs, and stirring narratives of deeds of arms in all 
 parts of the world. Every information of value and interest to both the Services is culled 
 with the greatest diligence from every available source, and the correspondence of various 
 distinguished officers which enrich its pages is a feature of great attraction. In short, the 
 • United Service Magazine' can be recommended to every reader who possesses that attach- 
 ment to his country which should make him look with the deepest interest on its naval and 
 military resources." — Sun. 
 
 ** This truly national periodical is always full of the most valuable matter for professional 
 men." — Morning Herald. 
 
 " To military and naval men, and to that class of readers who hover on the skirts of the 
 Service, and take a world of pains to inform themselves of all the goings on, the modes and 
 fashions, the movements and adventures connected with ships and barracks, this periodical 
 is indispensable. It is a repertory of facts and criticisms — narratives of past experience, and 
 fictions that are as good as if they were true — tables and returns — new inventions and new 
 books bearing upon the army and navy — correspondence crowded with intelligence — and 
 sundry unclaimed matters that lie in close neighbourhood with the professions, and contribute 
 more or less to the stock of general useful information." — Atlas. 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.