^M^'AI 
 
 
 • ^^^^-^
 
 L I B RAR^Y 
 
 OF THL 
 
 U N IVER.5ITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 SJL3 
 V4 
 
 ■;■■;'/ ■■'-■' ■^' ■■■■'•' '^- ' ■ • -'•■-" ^ 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 
 '^l 
 
 m
 
 UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 The person charging this material is responsible for its 
 
 renewal or return to the library on or before the due date. 
 
 The minimum fee for a lost item is $1 25.00, $300.00 for 
 
 bound journals. 
 
 Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons 
 
 for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from 
 
 the University. Please note: self-stick notes may result in 
 
 torn pages and lift some inks. 
 
 Renew via the Telephone Center at 217-333-8400, 
 
 846-262-1510 (toll-free) orcirclib@uiuc.edu. 
 
 Renew online by choosing the My Account option at: 
 
 http://www.llbrary.uluc.edu/catalog/ 
 
 APR 4 ANS'D
 
 Digitized by tine Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 witin funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/wiseasserpent01veit
 
 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 J. A. St. JOHN BLYTHE. 
 
 IN THBEE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, 8, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, 
 
 ^ublisliet in ©rUinars to ^cr ijaajestg. 
 
 1869. 
 
 [The Right of Tramlatum is reseri-ed.]
 
 LOin>OM J PRINTED BI W. CLOWES AND SONS, DUKE STREET, STAMFORD STREET, 
 
 AND CHARING CROSS.
 
 64Z7U/' 
 
 CONTENTS OF YOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 LADY DASHWOOD's PERPLEXITIES 1 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 ? MAJOR DENHAM MAKES A BET 24 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE BET IS WON, BUT NOT PAID 46 
 
 ^ CHAPTER IV. 
 
 \ THE dean's DAUGHTER 65 
 
 ^ CHAPTER V. 
 
 W AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL 92
 
 vi CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SOME BATHEB SUGGESTIVE CONTIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS 115 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAULINE LISLE BECOMES VEBY THOUGHTFUL . . . 146 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SMALL CLOUDS 174 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SIB GUY BIVEES AT ATHEELEY . . . . . 204 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MBS. WELLWOOD IS MOBE TBANSPABENT THAN SHE 
 
 SUPPOSES 235 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A WABNINQ AND AN UNEXPECTED MEETING . . .271
 
 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LADY DASH wood's PERPLEXITIES. 
 
 *'SiR Rupert Rivers is going to marry Lady 
 Clara Yere!" 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 It is needless to say who gave the information, 
 or who returned the incredulous answer, for 
 every one was engaged in doing either one or 
 the. other; every one, at least, in that peculiar 
 sense of the word which obtains in the circles of 
 Mayfair and Belgravia. It was near the close 
 of the London season, and everything was 
 getting very chill and flat. In fact the whole 
 season had been rather dull, so this most unex- 
 pected and highly interesting piece of informa- 
 tion was as welcome as rain after a drought. It 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 AVISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 was discussed with an energy and interest hardly 
 to have been expected in London in July ; and 
 it certainly had the effect of saving one or two 
 reputations, which must otherwise have been 
 sacrificed, in order to provide a little excitement 
 for the last week of the season. 
 
 It was so delightfully unexpected too, that it 
 had all the rare charm of novelty. It was not 
 in the least like an ordinary commonplace mar- 
 riage. Lady Clara Yere was only just eighteen ; 
 in fact, this was her first season, and she was a 
 great prize — very beautiful, and an immense 
 heiress. Sir Eupert Rivers, on the contrary, 
 was certainly forty, and was^ moreover, a cold, 
 stern, impassable sort of man, long since given 
 up by even the most sanguine of mothers, and 
 contemptuously pronounced a woman-hater — an 
 opinion which Sir Rupert himself heard with a 
 grim smile^ and certainly made no attempt to 
 disprove. How could such a man have suc- 
 ceeded in winning the most beautiful girl, and 
 the greatest heiress of the day, before she had 
 been out three months? It was a deep and 
 inscrutable mystery, even to the most deeply 
 versed in such mysteries. 
 
 Mrs. G-resham, a pretty little wasp and the 
 general provider of gossip for her set, was the
 
 LADY DASHWOOd's PERPLEXITIES. 3 
 
 fortunate woman who succeeded in first capturing 
 this wonderful piece of news. Her maid, while 
 executing some commissions for her mistress one 
 morning, encountered Lady Clara Yere's maid, 
 similarly occupied, and a considerable amount of 
 confidential conversation naturally resulted ; in 
 consequence of which Mrs. G-resham's brougham 
 was tearing about all day, and by the evening it 
 was pretty generally known that Sir Rupert 
 Rivers was going to marry Lady Clara Vere. 
 
 At least it was so reported. It was by no 
 means generally believed. Mrs. Gresham's friends 
 believed it ; but her enemies, and they were not 
 few, contemptuously tossed their heads and won- 
 dered Mrs. Gresham could condescend to listen 
 in that way to the impertinent gossip of ser- 
 vants ; which astonishment, however, did not 
 prevent them from commissioning their own 
 maids to find out all they could on the subject. 
 But then that was so different. Each one had a 
 maid who was really quite a confidential servant. 
 It was evidently quite a different case. 
 
 In a very few days it became apparent that, 
 come from what source it might, the information 
 was correct, and then the excitement increased 
 tremendously. Mrs. Dudley, Sir Rupert Rivers' 
 widowed sister, was the first object of attack. 
 
 B 2
 
 4 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 Her house was besieged the day after the news 
 had been confirmed, but all to no purpose. " Not 
 at home," was the inexorable answer to all 
 enquiries. 
 
 " How very provoking — it is really too bad of 
 Mrs. Dudley," exclaimed one girl, as the carriage 
 drove away from Mrs. Dudley's door ; " I am 
 dying to hear about it." 
 
 " Well, we shall hear something to-night from 
 Mrs. Gresham," replied her mother. " She will 
 be sure to get in." 
 
 " I don't know that, mamma. I don't think 
 she and Mrs. Dudley are very intimate." 
 
 " I never for a moment supposed they were, 
 my dear. But that woman has impudence enough 
 for anything ; she will force her way in. Ah ! 
 dear Mrs. G-resham, there you are," she added, 
 as a block stopped the carriage, and, at the same 
 moment, Mrs. Gresham's drew up beside them. 
 " You have seen Mrs. Dudley, of course. Do 
 tell us all about this marriage." 
 
 " No, indeed, I hav'nt seen Mrs. Dudley." 
 
 '• Then I am disappointed. I thought she 
 would be sure to see you." 
 
 " I dare say she would, if I had sent up my 
 name ; but I didn't care enough about it for that. 
 Too bad of Lady Clara to carry off Sir Eupert.
 
 LADY DASHWOODS PERPLEXITIES. 
 
 They say his wealth is enormous, and she could 
 have afforded to marry any one, you know. Dear 
 Evelyn, I declare you are looking quite pale ; it 
 is well the season is over. You have been too 
 dissipated, I'm afraid. Grood-bye." And her 
 carriage passed. 
 
 '* Horrid woman ! " 
 
 " Odious creature ! " 
 
 And with these candid expressions of their 
 sentiments, the mother and daughter went their 
 way likewise. 
 
 Mrs. Gresham had made no attempt to force 
 her way into Mrs. Dudley's house. Not from 
 want of boldness or of practice in such invasions ; 
 but the incentive was not strong enough. Thei^e 
 was no chance, she knew, of catching Mrs. Dudley 
 tripping. Besides, she had a shrewd suspicion 
 Sir Eupert might be there himself, and he was 
 the only person in the world of whom she stood 
 in dread. There was a dark chapter in her life's 
 history, and she had good cause to suspect that 
 Sir Rupert knew more about it than she cared 
 to think of, so she was never quite at ease in his 
 presence. Consequently Mrs. Gresham drove 
 away, like all the rest of Mrs. Dudley's acquaint- 
 ances. 
 
 Nor was she wrong in her surmise. Sir Rupert
 
 6 • WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 Rivers was, at that moment, in his sister's bou- 
 doir, and had been there for some time. 
 
 " You don't congratulate me very warmly, 
 Ellinor," he said, after a long pause. 
 
 " You have taken me so by surprise, Rupert." 
 
 " Don't wriggle, Ellinor," rejDlied her brother. 
 " You know quite well that's not the reason you 
 are so silent : you don't like it." 
 
 " Lady Clara is so very young," pleaded Mrs. 
 Dudley. 
 
 "• That's not what you are thinking of," said 
 Sir Rupert, " but . . . ." he paused a moment, 
 and his brow darkened, " but it's no use talking 
 about it now. The thing is done, and I must 
 stand by the consequences. All is so uncertain, 
 too ; I wonder what was really true " 
 
 " Kot half that was said, most likely," replied 
 Mrs. Dudley. 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " ejaculated Sir Rupert, as 
 he rose to go. " Are you not going to say one 
 single word of congratulation, Ellinor ? " he 
 added, with rather a sad smile. 
 
 " Rupert, I can't be a hypocrite ! " exclaimed 
 his sister. 
 
 " I can but give you my earnest prayers, and 
 best wishes for the future. I cannot in honesty 
 say I am glad to hear of your intended marriage."
 
 LADY DASHWOODS PERPLEXITIES. 7 
 
 Sir Eupert did not answer, and it was a posi- 
 tive relief to Mrs. Dudley when the door closed 
 behind him. 
 
 The interview had been a very painful one ; 
 both knowing the thought that was occupying 
 the mind of the other ; yet neither caring to 
 speak openly on the subject. 
 
 Sir Eupert Eivers had not always been the 
 cold, stern, and somewhat cynical man he was 
 at forty ; but he had received, very early in life, 
 one of those blows, from which no man of such 
 a temperament as his ever thoroughly recovers. 
 He found himself at one-and-twenty the fortu- 
 nate possessor of an extremely handsome face 
 and figure, an old title, and large fortune. 
 Nature had endowed him with a most romantic 
 and sanguine disposition, and a genial happy 
 temper ; so he entered life with most brilliant 
 anticipations for the future, and with confidence 
 unlimited in things in general, and in women 
 in particular. That he fell violently in love, 
 naturally followed before long: and never, he 
 was convinced, was man so blessed as when, 
 with a heavenly smile just quivering round a 
 faultless mouth, and with the long lashes shading 
 the soft, dark, liquid eyes, downcast in bashful 
 timidity, a soft hand was tremblingly placed in
 
 8 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 his own. A thousand times he asked himself 
 what particular merit he possessed, that he 
 should have been the happy winner of the heart 
 of the lovely, guileless girl, who had just con- 
 fessed, in such low musical tones, that she loved 
 him. He did not find an answer to the question, 
 but other people would probably have done so, 
 without much difficulty. 
 
 For a few weeks Rupert Rivers gave himself 
 up to all the wild enchantment of his new-found 
 happiness ; and fondly hoped that it was des- 
 tined to last for ever. Alas ! the dream was 
 doomed to be as fleeting as it was bright. Al- 
 ready the little cloud, like the man's hand, was 
 on the horizon, though as yet Sir Rupert saw 
 it not. A well-worn veteran of the ranks of 
 darkness had decided that that very season 
 should see the termination of a life, such as not 
 many men lead, and which sundry symptoms 
 had warned him could not go on for ever, and 
 the beginning of one of matrimony and respect- 
 ability. Calmly he surveyed the list of beauties 
 eligible for the honour of sharing his coronet 
 and untold wealth, and the wretched dregs of 
 his profligate life. His taste was very fastidious, 
 and one after another was rejected, as wanting 
 some of those indispensable perfections which
 
 LADY DASHWOODS PERPLEXITIES. 9 
 
 he considered it absolutely necessary his wife 
 should possess. 
 
 " Upon my word," he said to a companion, 
 '* it's deuced hard to find a wife ; and I'm sure 
 I oughtn't to find it so, because, you see, I don't 
 care a straw about money. I only want a girl 
 who's young and fit to look at." 
 
 At last, however, he made his choice ; and 
 when the news of Rupert Rivers' intended 
 marriage was communicated to him, he actually 
 started — a thing he had never been known to 
 do before. 
 
 " You don't say so ! " he exclaimed. " I really 
 am sorry to hear it. I rather like that boy, 
 and, you see, he can't have her. I mean to 
 marry her myself." . 
 
 "You!" 
 
 ^' Yes ! One of those things that must be 
 done some time, you know. Getting tired of 
 this sort of life, too. Be a change. Besides, I 
 can't let Conyers get the title and property. 
 That would never do. I hate the fellow. Lord 
 and Lady Castleton ! How confoundedly re- 
 spectable it sounds, don't it ? " 
 
 " If you mean her to be Lady Castleton, you 
 had better look sharp, then," was the answer. 
 
 " When is the marriage to be ? "
 
 10 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 ** Towards the end of the season." 
 
 " Oh ! lots of time, then. Xo need to hurrj. 
 I hate being hurried. But I really am sorry 
 about that boy. I'm afraid he'll take it dread- 
 fully to heart. Believes in love^ and women, 
 and all that kind of thing, you know ; but it 
 can't be helped. He must just put up with some 
 one else." 
 
 So while Rupert Rivers was basking in the 
 smiles of love, the astute mamma was beginning 
 to be a prey to some inward misgivings, and to 
 doubt whether — ever remembering that she had 
 another daughter out, and one who must be 
 brought out next season — she had not been a 
 little too precipitate. She very soon decided 
 that she had, and rejoiced to think that it was 
 not yet too late to retrieve the false step. And 
 thus it came to pass that, within a very weeks, 
 that tender scene, so deeply graven on Rupert 
 Rivers' memory, was re-acted in that same back 
 drawing-room, witli one actor changed; and 
 with this further difference, that it was with 
 something very like a shudder the fair hand 
 was given, and there was something uncom- 
 monly real in the shrinking from the kiss that 
 was printed on the white forehead. To do the 
 girl justice, there had been a sore struggle ; . and
 
 LADY DASHWOOd's PERPLEXITIES. 11 
 
 rumour said that nothing but the indomitable 
 perseverance of the judicious mother had kept 
 the daughter up to her duty. A pretext was 
 soon found for dismissing Rupert Rivers, as 
 there was clearly no chance of keeping him 
 in reserve for the next daughter ; and so the 
 dutiful child wore her coronet, and had the finest 
 
 diamonds in London, and . Well, we have 
 
 nothing more to do with her ; but the world 
 was very virtuous over it all, and sympathised 
 deeply with poor, dear Lady Elmsdale, and said 
 Lady Castleton ought really to have remembered 
 how much she owed her mother, and at least 
 have taken care to avoid public scandal. 
 
 Sir Rupert did not say very much. Men do 
 not cry out when they are bit hard. But he 
 disappeared entirely from the world ; and for 
 long was only heard of at intervals, perpetrating 
 those eccentric feats in which men who have 
 been crossed in love generally delight ; and 
 which only such men can perpetrate with im- 
 punity. At last, some years after Lady Castleton 
 had disappeared from the world, he did reappear 
 in it, cold and cynical, in manner at least, and as 
 utterly unlike the Rupert Rivers who had left 
 it ten years before as any man could be. He 
 soon secured for himself a character, too, which
 
 12 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 effectually shielded him from the attention of 
 anxious mothers. 
 
 The advent of Lady Clara Yere was some- 
 thing rather out of the common way. Her 
 wealth and heauty constituted her a star of the 
 first magnitude, and her proceedings soon at- 
 tracted considerahle attention. Her mother had 
 been dead for years, and she made her entrance 
 into the world under the cliarge of a cousin of 
 her father's. A chaperone of many years' ex- 
 perience, and universally admitted to be a perfect 
 mistress of her art, and peculiarly skilled in its 
 somewhat difficult requirements. But Lady 
 Dashwood was absolutely panic-stricken before 
 Lady Clara had been under her charge a fort- 
 night. 
 
 " My dear Bellingham ! " she exclaimed, '' that 
 girl will be the death of me." 
 
 Lord Bellingham smiled grimly. He had 
 fully expected Lady Dashwood would find his 
 daughter no easy charge to manage. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " he asked. 
 
 " Matter ! " retorted Lady Dashwood. *' Why, 
 I never saw such a girl as Clara ! In Heaven's 
 name, who have you allowed to educate her? 
 She is perfectly incorrigible. She danced three 
 times last night with Mr. Travers ; and not only
 
 LADY DASH wood's PERPLEXITIES. 13 
 
 declared this morning that she liked him better 
 than any one she had seen in London, but ad- 
 mitted that she had told him what time she 
 should ride. I could not get her to see why 
 she should not do so, until at last I was obliged 
 openly to tell her what she would lead him to 
 suppose ; and what do you think she said then ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," replied Lord 
 Bellingham. 
 
 '' She just looked straight at me, with those 
 great blue eyes wide open, and said, 'And sup- 
 posing I did marry Mr. Travers, what great 
 harm would there be in that ? ' " 
 
 Lord Bellingham laughed outright. " I don't 
 doubt she said exactly what she thought," he 
 replied. 
 
 " What ! and he the youngest of nine children, 
 and his father poor, even for an Irish Peer ? " 
 
 "Well, why don't you teach her better?" 
 asked Lord Bellingham. 
 
 " I am sure I have tried. I have talked till 
 I was tired ; and I might just as well talk to my 
 lap-dog." 
 
 " Just about as well, I should think." 
 
 " But really, Bellingham, what is to be done ? 
 She will infalhbly throw herself away. I'm 
 sure," added Lady Dashwood, pathetically, " such
 
 14 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 a chance has never been given to younger sons 
 since I can remember London." 
 
 Lord Bellingham laughed again. " You must 
 do as you please, Kate," he said. " I leave her 
 entirely in your hands. I can only say this : 
 if you can succeed in managing her, it is a great 
 deal more than I could do. And, at any rate, 
 remember I don't hold you responsible for any- 
 thing she may do. Of one thing I'm certain, 
 and that is, that if she does take it into her head 
 to marry Travers, neither you nor I shall be 
 able to prevent her." 
 
 " I don't in the least believe we should ; and 
 as for controlling her, I dare not attempt any- 
 thing like a show of authority. I did try it one 
 day, and such a look came into her eyes, in a 
 moment, that I " 
 
 An angry exclamation from Lord Bellingham 
 stopped the flow of Lady Dashwood's lamenta- 
 tions ; and, in some evident confusion, she 
 changed the subject. 
 
 Poor Lady Dashwood ! her task was indeed 
 a hard one. Lady Clara was perfectly incorri- 
 gible. It seemed as if no amount of instruction 
 would teach her to distinguish even the broad 
 fundamental distinctions between elder and 
 younger sons. As for the finer shades of
 
 LADY DASHWOOD's PERPLEXITIES. 15 
 
 difference between elder sons of various grades, 
 Lady Dashwood never dreamed, in her wildest 
 moments, of teaching her those. Lady Clara 
 cared not a straw who or what a man was. 
 If he only danced well, and was agreeable, he 
 was sure of a bright smile from her at any 
 time. 
 
 It so happened that one night, when Lady 
 Clara had been even more unreasonable than 
 usual, Sir Rupert Rivers accidentally overheard 
 a short conversation between the refractory 
 novice and her exasperated chaperone. Lady 
 Dashwood had just seen the heir to a princely 
 fortune ask, most pointedly, for an introduction 
 to Lady Clara, and had seen her calmly refuse 
 to dance with him. 
 
 " My dear Clara, you really are too bad ! " she 
 said. "How could you refuse to dance with 
 Lord Devonford ? " 
 
 " He asked for the last waltz, Aunt Kate, and 
 I'm engaged for it." 
 
 "Who to?" 
 
 " To Captain Percy." 
 
 " And you mean that you hadn't the sense to 
 throw him over at once ? My dear Clara, don't 
 you know that Lord Devonford hardly ever does 
 such a thing as dance, and never was known to
 
 16 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 ask pointedly for an introduction before to any 
 girl?" 
 
 " I neither know nor care," she answered. 
 " Lord Devonford is a tiresome idiot, and I like 
 Captain Percy. He is very agreeable, and 
 dances beautifully. I might have felt inclined 
 to throw Lord Devonford over for him ; but 
 never the reverse." 
 
 Lady Clara had suddenly become an object of 
 interest to Sir Eupert Eivers. To hear such 
 sentiments from the most admired beauty of the 
 season, was a thing he had not expected. That 
 very evening he asked for an introduction to 
 Lady Clara Yere ; and the next time they met 
 he actually asked her to dance. 
 
 " I'm very sorry I can't," Lady Clara replied, 
 looking up at him with a simple, straightforward 
 look. '' I should like to dance with you very 
 much, but, you see, I haven't one dance left, and 
 you know I never throw any one over." 
 
 " I think you are quite right," Sir Rupert 
 replied ; and all that evening he stood watching 
 her. Then he was seen riding with her, and 
 very shortly followed Mrs. Grresham's discovery. 
 
 Was it a wise step ? No. As Sir Rupert 
 thought of all he had heard, he confessed to 
 himself it was not ; and yet he loved the girl too
 
 LADY DASHWOOd's PERPLEXITIES. 17 
 
 deeply to regret that he had taken it ; and so he 
 resolved to think no more about it. He found 
 himself a wonderful object of interest, too, though 
 not entirely an original one. He shone in the 
 reflected lustre of Lady Clara Yere. 
 
 "It is not what I could have wished," Lady 
 Dash wood said to Lord Bellingham ; " but it is 
 certainly a respectable connection ; and really, 
 under the circumstances, it is an immense relief 
 to me. No human being can tell all I have gone 
 through this season. Heaven forbid I should 
 ever pass through such another ! I wonder it 
 has not turned my hair grey." 
 
 "I can only say, my dear," she said after- 
 wards to a confidential friend, " that if Belling- 
 ham had another daughter to bring out, he might 
 find some one else to do it ; I would rather 
 undertake a journey to the North Pole, than 
 have anything to do with it. You have no idea 
 what I have gone through with that girl. She 
 used positively to terrify me. You know — ■ — " 
 but here Lady Dashwood dropped her voice, and 
 the rest was inaudible. 
 
 Lady Clara was very much in love, and ex- 
 tremely proud of her conquest of the man she 
 had so often heard pronounced invulnerable. 
 She had never dreamed of trying to make a con- 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 quest of him, and was wonderfally astonished 
 when she found she had. She little dreamed 
 how much her energetic declaration — that she 
 liked Captain Percy a great deal better than 
 Lord Devonford — had to do with her chances of 
 becoming Lady Clara Eivers. 
 
 With the best grace she could, Mrs. Dudley 
 prepared for a visit of congratulation to Lady 
 Clara. Like a very coward, she put it off as 
 long as she possibly could, and then ordered her 
 carriage, with something very like the feelings 
 of a criminal going to execution. What could 
 she say ? How offer hollow congratulations on 
 a marriage which she dreaded more and more 
 the more she thought about it. She had never 
 spoken to Lady Clara Yere ; in fact, she had 
 very rarely seen her, for she had been out but 
 very little herself that season. This was rather 
 fortunate she thought, as it would help to pass 
 over any apparent coolness on her part at their 
 first meeting. 
 
 Lady Clara Yere was at home. Mrs. Dud- 
 ley felt horribly nervous; ridiculously so, she 
 thought, when she considered that the girl was 
 a mere child, young enough to be her own 
 daughter. Nevertheless, she felt a momentary 
 feeling of relief when she found the drawing-
 
 LADY DASHWOOd's PERPLEXITIES. 19 
 
 room was empty. She stood turning over the 
 leaves of a book, and trying to arrange a set 
 speech in her head ; but with tbe provoking 
 consciousness that the appearance of Lady Clara 
 would probably put it all to flight. Suddenly 
 the heavy velvet curtains at the end of the room 
 were parted ; and almost before Mrs. Dudley 
 had time to turn, Lady Clara's arms were round 
 her neck, and the girl was sobbing hysterically, 
 with her face hidden on Mrs. Dudley's shoulder. 
 Here was an untimely end to all set speeches. 
 Mrs. Dudley began to wonder whether she could 
 really be awake. 
 
 " My dear Lady Clara ! " she began — 
 " Oh don't call me Lady Clara, please Mrs. 
 Dudley. Call me Clare. Eupert always calls 
 me Clare. Oh ! I can't tell you how happy I am. 
 It looks like it, does'nt it?" she added, smiling 
 through her tears, "but I cannot help crying 
 sometimes, it seems quite a relief. Why didn't 
 you ■ come and see me before ? I wanted to 
 come to you, but Aunt Kate, Lady Dashwood, 
 you know, papa's cousin, wouldn't let me. 
 Aunt Kate is always bothering about what's 
 proper, and I do hate all that fuss. Oh, Mrs. 
 Dudley, will you teach me how to make Eupert 
 a good wife?" 
 
 c2
 
 20 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " I rather doubt whether Rupert thinks any 
 such teaching will be necessary," replied Mrs. 
 Dudley. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; but indeed it will. I'm not half 
 good enough for him. You don't know me yet ; 
 but I will try to learn, if you'll only teach me. 
 I'm always doing things I shouldn't, but I 
 never had any one to teach me, you know. If 
 mamma had only lived I know I should have 
 been quite different, but I can't stand Aunt 
 Kate ; she's always thinking about propriety, and 
 it just makes me want to do everything I can 
 that's wrong. Is it true that you knew mamma, 
 Mrs. Dudley?" 
 
 Mrs. Dudley winced. The girl was on her 
 knees beside her, looking up in her face, with a 
 strange wistful look in her large blue eyes. 
 
 " I saw her in London when I was first out," 
 she answered, " but I can hardly say I knew 
 her." 
 
 " Oh, but do tell me about her. No one will 
 tell me about her, not even Parsons, my maid, 
 though she was her maid. She never seems 
 as if she liked to talk about her, and papa 
 doesn't like to speak about her. Am I like 
 mamma, Mrs. Dudley?" 
 
 " Not the least," replied Mrs. Dudley, rather
 
 LADY DASHWOOd's PERPLEXITIES. 21 
 
 sharply. "Lady Bellingham was very dark, 
 and quite different from you. You know she 
 was half Italian, my dear." 
 
 " Was she ? No one ever told me that." 
 
 " Yes, her mother was Italian. I don't know 
 how you came by your blue eyes and golden 
 hair. But really, dear child, I can tell you 
 very little about your mother. She was married 
 at the end of my first season, and I never saw 
 her again. You know she died very soon after 
 you were born." 
 
 '' Yes, I know," replied Lady Clara, " but 
 Mrs. Dudley," and her face grew very grave, 
 "what did mamma die of?" 
 
 " Of a sudden attack of inflammation, I 
 believe, but I never heard any particulars. She 
 did not die in London. I know her death was 
 very unexpected." 
 
 There was a strange vacant look in Lady 
 Clara's face now; and something of horror in 
 her beautiful eyes. She did not move for a 
 moment, then suddenly the tears came again, 
 and burying her face in the folds of Mrs. 
 Dudley's dress, she exclaimed, with a stifled 
 sob — 
 
 "Oh! Mrs. Dudley, make me do right. Do 
 make me do right, for Rupert's sake. But I
 
 22 WISE AS A SERPEXT. 
 
 tliink I shall be able. Some people make me 
 feel quite wicked, and I want to do everything 
 that's wrong directly ; but I think I shall be 
 able to do right with you and Rupert, if you 
 will only be patient, and try to teach me." 
 
 Mrs. Dudley gently kissed and soothed the 
 excited girl, and in five minutes she was laughing 
 merrily again. Before very long, Sir Rupert 
 entered the room. 
 
 " I saw your carriage, Ellinor, so made good 
 my entrance. What will Aunt Kate say, Clare, 
 when she comes home ? " 
 
 " I don't care what she says. I hate Aunt 
 Kate. Mrs. Dudley is my mamma now. Oh ! 
 Mrs. Dudley, will you take me out with you 
 sometimes ? I never can enjoy a party when 
 Aunt Kate is there ; and it's worse than ever 
 now. There are such a lot of things she says I 
 mustn't do, because I am engaged." 
 
 Sir Rupert and Mrs. Dudley were both fain 
 to laugh at Lady Clara's rueful face. 
 
 " Ellinor shall take you to the opera to-night, 
 if you like," Sir Rupert said. 
 
 " Oh ! will you, Mrs. Dudley ? Please do." 
 And Lady Clara was wild with delight in a 
 moment, and making such a noise, when Lady 
 Dashwood came in, that her sense of propriety
 
 LADY DASHWOOD's PERPLEXITIES. 23 
 
 must have been fearfully outraged. Lady Clara 
 privately confided to Sir Rupert, as she gave 
 him a hasty kiss at the top of the stairs, that 
 there would be " a jolly row " as soon as she 
 went back to the drawing-room ; but that she 
 " didn't care a rap." 
 
 Mrs. Dudley's face, as she drove home, was 
 graver than it had been before.
 
 24 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 MAJOR DEXHAM MAKES A BET. 
 
 Lady Clara Yere began to slilne in a reflected 
 lustre before long, as well as Sir Eupert him- 
 self. She was actually fading in the hght of 
 her own diamonds. All the world had been to 
 see them, and Sir Rupert Rivers had risen im- 
 mensely in popular estimation. The diamonds 
 were really splendid. Though they were little 
 known in London, in their own country " the 
 Riverston diamonds," as they were generally 
 called, were famed. Sir Rupert's grandfather 
 had an absolute passion for collecting gems, and 
 had spent untold sums upon these very dia- 
 monds ; and they were splendidly re-set for Lady 
 Clara, who seemed likely, with the addition of 
 her own jewellery, to possess such a jewel ease 
 as very few women, even in her position, could 
 boast.
 
 MAJOR DENHAM MAKES A BET. 25 
 
 " Eeally, after all," remarked a dowager, as 
 she drove away from the jeweller's, after in- 
 specting the diamonds, " poor dear Lady Elms- 
 dale did not gain very much by stopping Ada 
 marrying Sir Rupert Rivers. Perhaps, if she 
 
 had allowed her " and there she paused, and 
 
 shook her head with a sigh. 
 
 The only person who did not seem to care 
 a straw about the diamonds was Lady Clara 
 herself; and many an envying fair one thought 
 ruefully, what a pity it was that they should be 
 wasted upon her, when so many would have 
 given for them just what Ada Elmsdale had 
 given years ago for diamonds and a coronet — 
 faith, truth, and love, and all that makes life 
 holy or happy. 
 
 Then the trousseau and the presents w^ere 
 magnificent, and altogether the whole thing 
 promised to be so brilliant, that, late as it was 
 getting in the year, numbers of people remained 
 in London, in order that they might see the 
 wedding. Lady Clara would make such a lovely 
 bride too, with her beautiful complexion, and 
 the exquisite colour she always had when the 
 least excited. Every one said so, and expectation 
 was at the highest pitch, long before the wed- 
 ding-day arrived.
 
 26 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 When at last it did come, the doors of the 
 church were besieged long before the hour fixed, 
 and the crowd was so great that numbers of 
 people could not get in at all. There was a 
 violent swaying and surging of the crowd, and 
 much destruction of elaborate toilets, at the 
 arrival of every fresh carriage-load of guests. 
 Sir Rupert looked much the same as usual, it 
 was said, only rather sterner, and a little pale. 
 At last the bride arrived, and then there was 
 such pushing and crowding, that very few 
 saw anything more than a confused heap of 
 satin, lace, and bridesmaids' wreaths, with 
 Lord Belhngham's head towering high in the 
 midst. 
 
 " I never was so disappointed in my life," 
 Mrs. Gresham said to Lord Devonford, as they 
 drove away from the church, after the ceremony 
 was over. " I could not get a glimpse of her, 
 for the crowd. I wish they wouldn't let all 
 those horrid people into church, when there is 
 to be a marriage. One of my flounces is torn 
 past all redemption, I'm afraid. A horrid crea- 
 ture put his foot through it. But, do tell me, 
 didn't she look lovely ? " 
 
 " Never saw her look worse in my life," was 
 the laconic answer.
 
 MAJOR DENHAM MAKES A BET. 27 
 
 " How can you be so absurd ? " said Mrs. 
 Gresham. " You needn't be so spiteful." 
 
 " I assure you it's quite true, 'pon my honour." 
 
 " I don't believe it," retorted Mrs. Gresham. 
 " You just say so from spite." 
 
 " I declare it's true. She was as white as her 
 dress. Ask Percy if she wasn't." 
 
 " What did she look like, Captain Percy ? " 
 asked Mrs. Gresham. "I am quite sure she 
 must have looked beautiful, didn't she ? " 
 
 " She looked precious little like anything I 
 ever saw/' replied Captain Percy. " Yery little 
 like any mortal woman. I was thinking, all 
 the time, that she looked uncommonly like a 
 corpse in white satin, with a couple of electric 
 lights, done up in blue glass, for eyes. Pale 
 wasn't the word for it. She was absolutely 
 ghastly, and trembling like anything. I don't 
 believe she wanted to marry that fellow after all." 
 
 " You are too bad for anything," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Gresham, indignantly. " You are worse 
 than Lord Devonford. I declare I won't speak 
 to you again, for I don't know how long." 
 
 By the time they reached Lord Bellingham's, 
 and Mrs. Gresham had succeeded in making her 
 way up to Lady Clara, she was looking beautiful 
 enough, with just the colour that every one had
 
 28 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 expected ; and liad not Mrs. Gresham, after- 
 wards, heard the partial truth, at least, of Captain 
 Percy's somewhat original metaphor confirmed 
 by others, who had been near Lady Clara during 
 the ceremony, she would have set it down to the 
 account of the disappointed hopes of an over- 
 sanguine younger son. 
 
 Grreat preparations were going on all this 
 time, at Eiverston, for the reception of Lady 
 Clara. When first the news came down that 
 Sir Rupert Rivers was going to be married_, no 
 one would believe it, until a perfect army of 
 painters, paperers, and upholsterers took posses- 
 sion of the Hall ; while, at the same time. Sir 
 Rupert's steward was setting every available 
 man in the neighbourhood ^to work on the gar- 
 dens and pleasure grounds. There was certainly 
 much to be done before the place could be made 
 fit for its future mistress. Sir Rupert's mother 
 had died more than thirty years ago, and since 
 then no lady had reigned at Riverston. The 
 tenantry had hoped one might soon come, when 
 Sir Rupert came of age, but that hope had died 
 out long since. Sir Rupert rarely came near 
 the place, and a sad look of gloom and neglect 
 had begun to creep over the fine old Hall. A 
 look hitherto quite unknown at Riverston ; for
 
 MAJOR DENHAM MAKES A BET. 29 
 
 the Riverses for generations had been good land- 
 lords, spending always the greater part of their 
 time among their own tenantry. The change 
 had been sadly felt, and the rejoicings were pro- 
 portioned when it was found to be really true, 
 that there was a chance of the old state of things 
 being restored. 
 
 The excitement grew tremendous, as the day 
 fixed for the arrival drew near. The village 
 was one mass of flags and triumphal arches, 
 more or less unfinished, and all were hard at 
 work. Many a village heart beat high at the 
 thought of the gay doings that would celebrate 
 the marriage ; and many an anxious hour was 
 spent in consideration of toilets, becoming the 
 splendour of the ball, which would doubtless 
 soon be given, at Riverston Hall, in pursuance 
 of a time-honoured custom among the Riverses. 
 
 But, alas 1 the very day before the expected 
 arrival of the bride afid bridegroom, the Vicar 
 suddenly appeared among the merry throng, 
 hard at work in the village, with very grave 
 looks, and an open letter in his hand — 
 
 " Here's a sad disappointment for us all,'* he 
 said. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " asked a number of
 
 30 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 voices ; and a crowd gathered round him in a 
 moment. 
 
 " I think I had better read you this letter. 
 It is from Sir Rupert Rivers himself." 
 
 Amidst breathless silence he read the letter. 
 
 With many expressions of regret at being 
 obliged to make such a request, Sir Rupert 
 earnestly begged that Lady Clara's arrival 
 might be allowed to pass entirely unnoticed. 
 Nothing, he said, but positive necessity would 
 have induced him to make such a request : but 
 Lady Clara had, very imprudently, overtaxed 
 her strength very much in Scotland, and had 
 been so seriously ill, that the doctors positively 
 forbad any kind of excitement. Sir Rupert 
 added, that he had no doubt in a few weeks 
 she would be quite well again, and able for 
 the time-honoured celebrations of marriages at 
 River ston ; and concluded with renewed regrets 
 at the disappointment he feared this would 
 cause. 
 
 It was a great disappointment. Silently 
 all the decorations were pulled down again ; 
 and equally silently, the travelling-carriage was 
 watched, as it drove rapidly through the village, 
 the following day.
 
 M^\JOR DENHAM MAKES A BET. 31 
 
 It was not long, however, before Lady Clara 
 appeared among them, and she made rapid way 
 with all classes. Her exquisite, though almost 
 childlike, beauty — her frank, generous disposi- 
 tion—and her excitable, enthusiastic nature — 
 were irresistible. The old people said it was 
 quite like the old times at Riverston again. 
 " There is but one thing we could wish," the 
 Yicar s wife said, in writing to Mrs. Dudley, 
 " and that is, that Lady Clara was a little less 
 excitable. She is a noble creature, and has car- 
 ried every heart here by storm, but I really 
 dread to think what the effect of any strain 
 upon her would be. The least thing seems to 
 excite her to such an extent, and then the bril- 
 liancy of her eyes becomes almost painful. I 
 cannot help thinking, sometimes, that Sir Eupert 
 feels a little uneasy himself." Mrs. Dudley 
 looked very anxious for some time after reading 
 that letter, and answered it by one, begging Mrs. 
 Graham most earnestly to impress on Lady Clara 
 the absolute necessity that she should endeavour, 
 particularly at the present moment, to avoid all 
 excitement as much as possible ; and she wrote 
 a long letter to Lady Clara herself, on the same 
 subject. 
 
 A year passed, and then the bells of Riverston
 
 32 WISE AS A SERPEXT. 
 
 Ohurcli pealed out the joyful intelligence that an 
 heir was born at the Hall. 
 
 Three seasons had passed away, and Lady 
 Clara Rivers had never re-appeared in London. 
 The first, she was expecting shortly the birth of 
 her little boy ; the next, she was far from strong, 
 and the doctors would not sanction the excite- 
 ment of London. The following season, another 
 baby had come ; but Sir Rupert, during the 
 occasional appearances in London which his 
 parliamentary duties necessitated, gave a very 
 favourable report of Lady Clara's health. She 
 was, he said, much better than she had been 
 since her marriage ; and he looked forward con- 
 fidently to her spending next season in London. 
 
 " Hov/ much brighter, and more cheerful. Sir 
 Rupert looks himself, than he has ever done 
 since his marriage," Lady Dash wood remarked 
 to Mrs. Dudley. " He surely must have been 
 more anxious about Clara than he chose to admit. 
 Do you think her very delicate ? " 
 
 " She has certainly been far from strong," 
 Mrs. Dudley replied ; " but she seems so much 
 better now, I trust there is every hope for the 
 future." 
 
 " How strange it seems, that I should never 
 have seen her since her marriage," continued
 
 MAJOR DENHAM MAKES A BET. 33 
 
 Lady Dash wood. " Have you been much at 
 Riverston ? " 
 
 " Yes, a good deal." 
 
 " Ah ! do tell me then, has Sir Rupert ever 
 tried to make Clara do anything she didn't 
 like ? Did you ever see him try, Mrs. Dudley ?" 
 
 " I have seen Clara frequently give up things 
 to please my brother," replied Mrs. Dudley. 
 
 " Ah yes, I dare say, things she chose to 
 yield. But I mean, did you ever see him 
 attempt to cross her in anything upon which 
 she was bent ? " 
 
 " What makes you ask the question ? " said 
 Mrs. Dudley, diplomatically. 
 
 " Because I am dying to know, if he did, what 
 the result was. I tried it once, myself, and I 
 should like to know whether Sir Rupert ever 
 was treated to such a scene as I was." 
 
 " Don't you think it possible Rupert might 
 arrange things better, and perhaps have rather 
 more influence than you had ? " 
 
 " Ah well ! I don't know ; perhaps he might. 
 I am sure if he ever was treated to such a scene, 
 he would never forget it, to his dying day." 
 
 The hunting season was always a very gay 
 one in the neighbourhood of Riverston. There 
 was capital hunting at an easy distance, and all 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 the country-houses round were sure to be full. 
 Even the county town, in which during the rest 
 of the year the vivacity of a garrison struggled 
 vainly against the solemnities of a cathedral, 
 became animated with the advent of hunters, 
 and the approach of the county ball. Flippant 
 nothings were whispered under the very shade 
 of the grand old pile, while flirtations, more or 
 less innocent, were carried on even within the 
 sacred precincts of the cloisters. It was ru- 
 moured that the latter had once been intruded 
 into the deanery grounds ; but such awful dese- 
 cration was believed impossible by the greater 
 number of the inhabitants. 
 
 Stowminster possessed, among its few attrac- 
 tions, a public billiard -room ; and in this very 
 billiard-room, the day before the county ball, an 
 idle group was collected ; nominally engaged in 
 playing billiards, really occupied in killing time ; 
 and just in the state to be ready for the employ- 
 ment usually supposed to be provided for idle 
 hands. The sound of horses' hoofs drew two or 
 three to the window. It might be some fresh 
 hunters arriving, that a little time might be 
 occupied in criticising. 
 
 " By Jove, that's a stunning girl ! " exclaimed 
 one, a new comer. ** Who is she ? "
 
 MAJOR DENHAM MAKES A BET. 35 
 
 " Lady Clara Eivers." 
 
 " What, any relation to that fellow who was 
 out with the hounds, so splendidly mounted, last 
 week?" 
 
 " That depends on whether a man s wife is 
 related to him, or not. It's a problem I never 
 could solve." 
 
 " You don't mean that girl's his wife ? " 
 
 " Well, she's supposed to to be, about here. I 
 can't say I ever saw the certificate, so I'm not 
 warranted to give a decided opinion upon the 
 subject. But I don't think she looks like a girl 
 who would live with a man without being mar- 
 ried to him." 
 
 ^' What a fool you are," was the answer ; " but 
 I declare she looks more like his daughter. What 
 a seat she has ! Doesn't she hunt ? " 
 
 "No, Eivers won't let her. She's too pre- 
 cious." 
 
 " Oh, that's all very fine," remarked another, 
 *' but I don't beheve that's the reason he won't 
 let her hunt." 
 
 " What is, then ? " 
 
 *' He's jealous, you may be sure. Did you 
 ever know a man of his age marry such a girl 
 as that, and not be as jealous as blazes ? " 
 
 " I should think she is disposed to be a bit 
 
 d2
 
 36 WISE AQ A SERPENT. 
 
 frisky, am t she ? " chimed in a third. *' I met 
 her the other night, and there was a queer look 
 in her eyes, once or twice." 
 
 There was a general laugh. " You're not the 
 first who has been taken in by her eyes. Ask 
 Townshend about that." 
 
 " What's that about me ? " asked Captain 
 Townshend from the billiard-table. 
 
 " Here's Chaplin wants to know whether 
 Lady Clara Rivers ain't disposed to be frisky." 
 
 " You had better try, then, that's all," replied 
 Captain Townshend. '^ I did, once." 
 
 '' And what came of it ? " 
 
 "You try, and you'll soon find out." 
 
 " But I'd like to hear your experience first, 
 my dear fellow." 
 
 " Then you won't, that's all," retorted Captain 
 Townshend. 
 
 " Townshend's very sore about it," laughed 
 another. " Whatever happened, it was three 
 days before he was himself again. He rather 
 piques himself on his powers in that line, so it 
 was a terrible downfall." 
 
 *' But do you really mean," asked Lionel 
 Chaplin, 'Hhat Sir Rupert won't let her hunt?" 
 
 " Yes, it's quite true. She told me so her- 
 self."
 
 MAJOR DENHAM MAKES A BET. 37 
 
 " Gammon ! " briefly responded one of the 
 smokers, who had hitherto hstened in silence. 
 
 The speaker was Major Denham, who was in 
 command of the detachment quartered at Stow- 
 minster. He was a fine handsome man, about 
 forty, rather grave and quiet in manner, whereby 
 he generally gained the character of being a 
 very steady, quiet man ; an opinion, however, 
 which his brother officers averred to be only a 
 proof of the deceptive nature of still water. 
 
 " It's no such thing. Major," replied the 
 speaker. " She used to hunt a good deal before 
 she was married ; but Rivers has never let her 
 do it since, and I don't think she much likes 
 it." 
 
 " I dare say she told you so," replied the 
 Major, " and then laughed at you afterwards for 
 being such a flat as to swallow it all. Never tell 
 me a girl like that, married to a man old enough 
 to be her father, can't hunt if she likes." 
 
 "You may say what you like," retorted the 
 other, who was rather nettled at Major Denham's 
 contemptuous tone ; " but you don't know either 
 Rivers or Lady Clara as well as I do. I'll bet 
 you fifty to one no power on earth could get her 
 out hunting." 
 
 " Done," replied Major Denham, coolly, " that
 
 38 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 she goes out with the hounds on Thursday. , 
 That's the next meet, isn't it ?" 
 
 An animated discussion followed, but very 
 few were found willing to back Major Denham. 
 In fact the general impression was that Captain 
 Martin was perfectly safe to win. 
 
 The ball the next evening was an unusually 
 brilliant one for Stowminster. All the country- 
 houses round happened to be full; and the 
 weather was unusually propitious for long drives 
 at night. 
 
 It was the first time Lady Clara Eivers had 
 appeared at the county ball. She had never, 
 hitherto, been able for it; and, even now. Sir 
 Eupert had some doubt whether it was quite a 
 prudent step to let her go, but she was anxious 
 to do it, and had really seemed so much better 
 for some time, that he yielded to her wish. She 
 was looking her loveliest that night, and wore 
 all the Eiverston diamonds. She did not often 
 put them on, but the people expected to see 
 them then, and Lady Clara knew the value of 
 these little good-natured concessions to popular 
 weaknesses. 
 
 Major Denham secured her for one of the 
 first dances. Lady Clara had met him once 
 before, and rather liked him. He was very
 
 MAJOR DENHAM MAKES A BET. 39 
 
 , agreeable, and talked well ; and there was 
 something very pleasant about his quiet repose 
 of manner. 
 
 " Was it you who rode through the town 
 yesterday, on a bay horse^ Lady Clara," he 
 asked. 
 
 " About four o'clock ? Yes." 
 
 " A¥e saw you from the billiard room, and 
 thought it was you, but — I'm going to make a 
 horrible confession — we were all so absorbed in 
 admiring the horse, that we quite forgot to 
 notice who the rider was, until one of the new 
 comers asked who you were, and by that time 
 you were so far off we could not be quite 
 certain. It's an awful confession, isn't it ? " 
 
 "Terrible," replied Lady Clara, laughing; 
 " Don't you think I ought to have Sultan shot 
 the first thing to-morrow morning? " 
 
 " Well, I don't know about that. I think I 
 should wait until the hunting season is over. 
 Such a horse as that isn't to be seen often. 
 I should think he was magnificent across 
 country." 
 
 '' I have no doubt he would be, but I never 
 tried him. I don't hunt." 
 
 " You are not in earnest 1 Such a horse as 
 that, and such a seat as you have, and not hunt !
 
 40 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 Lady Clara Eivers_, you are recklessly throwing 
 away your chances in life. But you are surely 
 laughing at me. You can't really mean that 
 you don't like hunting." 
 
 " Oh, no. I like it very much," replied Lady 
 Clara, with a slight increase of colour ; *' but Sir 
 Rupert objects so much, that I have never 
 hunted since I was married." 
 
 The faintest shade of surprise just crossed 
 Major Denham's face for a moment, as he 
 said — 
 
 " Sir Rupert ought to think himself very 
 fortunate in his will being law in such a 
 matter." 
 
 What was there in the tone ? Lady Clara 
 could not tell, yet she felt annoyed, and answered 
 with a still deepening colour — 
 
 " No, indeed, fond as I am of hunting, I know 
 Sir Rupert is quite right. I am too excitable to 
 be safe." 
 
 '^I can hardly think that," replied Major 
 Denham. '' So light a weight and so accom- 
 plished a rider, on such a horse as you were 
 riding yesterday^ could hardly fail to be safe." 
 
 " It is just as well not to try, I know," said 
 Lady Clara. '' Mrs. Feversham has always 
 urged me not to think of it."
 
 MAJOR DENHAM MAKES A BET. 41 
 
 ''I don't doubt that," said Major Denham, 
 with a smile. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 '* Because, under present circumstances, she is 
 generally the best mounted in the field ; but 
 that would hardly be the case if you were 
 there ; nor is she so good a rider. Besides she 
 gets more care from Sir Rupert than she could 
 if he had you to look after." 
 
 Lady Clara made no answer; but Major 
 Denham's practised eye detected a sudden 
 shimmer of light pass over the diamonds, so 
 he turned the conversation to something else^ 
 and then resigned her to another partner. 
 
 "You won't forget that you promised me 
 another quadrille, will you ? " he said, as he 
 did so. 
 
 Lady Clara promised, and Major Denham 
 retired. Lady Clara danced a good deal during 
 the evening. 
 
 " How are you getting on^ Major ? " asked 
 Lionel Chaplin, coming up to where Major Den- 
 ham was standing, calmly surveying the scene. 
 
 •* I'm pretty well, all things considered, thank 
 you," he replied. 
 
 " No, but I mean about your bet. You seem 
 to me to be taking it pretty coolly considering
 
 42 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 that you are safe to lose, but I suppose you 
 don't much care." 
 
 " I'll lay you five to one that I don't lose, if 
 you like." 
 
 " Nonsense, Major ! " 
 
 " I'm not joking." 
 
 " Well, done then. But I can't understand 
 what you are at. I say, look at Lady Clara 
 now. By Jove^ I think she is the loveliest 
 creature I ever saw ; but is it any wonder I 
 thought she was disposed to be frisky ? " 
 
 Major Denham looked steadily at Lady Clara 
 for a moment, and then said, " Ah, nonsense. 
 You boys always fancy you can read a woman 
 in a moment, but it's not such an easy thing as 
 that, I can tell you." 
 
 Nevertheless Major Denham was somewhat 
 disposed to think Lionel Chaplin was right, but he 
 had a habit of keeping his opinions to himself. 
 
 " Do you know," he said, when he joined 
 Lady Clara again, " that I was guilty of most 
 awfully trespassing last week at Riverston." 
 
 u i^QYe you ? " she replied. " Was it you 
 who was seen riding through the private 
 grounds ? " 
 
 '*Alas, it was; but I can assure you I was 
 quite guiltless of intentional trespassing. I
 
 MAJOR DENHAM MAKES A BET. 43 
 
 lost my way. T have been quaking ever since 
 lest vengeance should descend on me for my 
 enormities." 
 
 " I don t think your crime was very deadly, 
 after all. I doubt whether any one's equanimity 
 was much disturbed thereby, except one of the 
 keepers, who saw you from a distance, without 
 being able to get at you." 
 
 *'Ah, it is a relief to have confessed, and 
 received absolution. Seriously, I was very 
 much annoyed, for I think all such intrusions 
 so impertinent. By the bye I met the j oiliest 
 little boy I think I ever saw, riding with a 
 coachman." 
 
 " My little boy, I suppose," said Lady Clara. 
 
 " Yours, Lady Clara ! No. You surely are 
 not in earnest." 
 
 " Indeed I am. Why not ? Were you going 
 to say," she added, rather contemptuously, 
 "that you couldn't imagine I could be old 
 enough to be his mamma, because, if so, pray 
 spare me the oft-told tale." 
 
 "Lady Clara Rivers, what have I done," 
 replied Major Denham, "to deserve that you 
 should think me capable of such a tea-garden 
 sort of compliment as that ? No, indeed, it was 
 no thought of that kind that surprised me."
 
 44 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 Major Denham hesitated. " Must I tell you ? " 
 he said. 
 
 *'Yes." 
 
 " Then you must promise that you won't be 
 angry with me." 
 
 " What on earth do you mean ? " Lady Clara 
 asked, rather impatiently. 
 
 " W^ell, the fact is, you know, I have only 
 been here a very short time, so I know very 
 little about anything or anybody yet, and I 
 fancied you were only quite lately married." 
 
 " Why, I have been married three years," 
 Lady Clara replied. " Do I look so very girlish 
 as all that ? Is that what you mean ? " 
 
 *' By no means. I should never have dreamed 
 of making so personal a remark." 
 
 '* Then what could have led you to such an 
 extraordinary idea?" 
 
 " I — I — really — " Major Denham stammered 
 with some embarrassment ; " I am afraid it was 
 rather an impertinent idea, so please don't ask 
 me." 
 
 " But I insist on knowing," exclaimed Lady 
 Clara." You have raised my curiosity to the 
 highest pitch." 
 
 " Well, then, if you insist on my telling you,"
 
 MAJOR DENHAM MAKES A BET. 45 
 
 he answered, '' of course I have no choice ; but 
 then you must forgive me for it. The fact is, it 
 was what you said about not being allowed 
 to indulge in your favourite amusement of 
 hunting, that misled me. I thought tlie shades 
 of the honeymoon must be still lingering." 
 
 "How very absurd," replied Lady Clara, 
 laughing; but the laugh was rather a con- 
 strained one, and an expression came over her 
 face, which brought Sir Eupert up to tell her 
 that her carriage was waiting, and Major 
 Denham retired. 
 
 As he went down stairs he met Captain 
 Martin. 
 
 " How about the bet, Major ? " he said, 
 laughing. 
 
 " I'll tell you the evening after the meet," 
 Major Denham answered.
 
 46 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE BET IS WON, BUT NOT PAID. 
 
 Captain Martin and Lionel Chaplin rode on 
 to tlie ground early on the morning of the meet. 
 Major Denham's calm serenity had rather dis- 
 comjDOsed them both. They had tried all the 
 day before to discover whether he expected to 
 win or not, but had tried in vain. He was 
 absolutely impenetrable. They eagerly scanned 
 every group of sportsmen or led horses that 
 came upon the ground. But not a single side 
 saddle or riding habit appeared. 
 
 " Upon my word, I believe it's all right," 
 exclaimed Captain Martin. " It's getting close 
 to time. I was sure he would lose." 
 
 " So was I," replied Chaplin. " Confound it ! 
 I do believe that's a lady's hat. Look over the 
 hedge there along the lane leading towards 
 Riverston."
 
 THE BET IS WON, BUT NOT PAID. 47 
 
 Captain Martin rose in his stirrups. " It's all 
 right," he said; "it's dark hair. I expect it's 
 Mrs. Feversham. She would come that way." 
 
 " Look, there comes the Major," said Chaplin, 
 as. Major Denham, splendidly mounted, rode 
 slowly on to the ground, not even seeming to 
 cast a glance at the gathering groups of riders. 
 The two cantered across the ground to meet 
 him. 
 
 "Good morning, Major," exclaimed Captain 
 Martin. " How do you feel ? Time's nearly up, 
 and no signs of any of the Riverston people." 
 
 " Look behind you," replied Major Denham. 
 
 Captain Martin turned sharply round. There, 
 sure enough, was a groom in the Riverston 
 livery just coming on to the ground riding a 
 powerful grey hunter, and leading Sir Rupert's 
 own favourite, Red Rover, the best horse 
 in all the county, with a side saddle on him. 
 A moment after. Sir Rupert himself drove 
 up, with Lady Clara beside him in a hunting 
 habit. 
 
 " You can send me a cheque to-night, Martin," 
 Major Denham said, as he cantered across the 
 ground to meet the new arrivals. 
 
 " Confound the fellow ! " exclaimed Captain 
 Martin. "How the devil did he manage it?"
 
 48 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " The devil only knows," responded Chaplin, 
 sulkily. " There's no getting to the bottom of 
 the Major, he's so awfully deep. I knew by his 
 look, though, that he was after some mischief 
 the night of the ball. He was so awfully quiet, 
 and he's always like that when he's after any 
 mischief." 
 
 To say the truth, it would have puzzled Major 
 Denham himself to answer Captain Martin's 
 question, for in reality he was little less astonished 
 than his companions when Lady Clara appeared. 
 He had estimated her by a standard of his own, 
 for the special measurement of girls who marry 
 men old enough to be their fathers^ and had 
 taken the bet on the strength of that. His 
 conversation with Lady Clara at the ball had 
 convinced him he was wrong, and he had since 
 been congratulating himself that the terms of 
 the bet were so much in his favour, as he 
 believed he should certainly lose; a belief 
 which rather ruffled his serenity, as he piqued 
 himself on never losing a bet. 
 
 Lady Clara had hardly spoken during the 
 drive home from the ball. Pleading that she 
 was very tired, she leaned her head back in the 
 corner of the carriage, and Sir Eupert hoped 
 she was asleep, though he could not see her
 
 THE BET IS WON^ BUT NOT PAID. 49 
 
 face. When, however, the light from the hall 
 lamp shone full into the carriage as they drove 
 up to the door, he looked round, but there was 
 no sign of sleep. Lady Clara's eyes were wide 
 open, and far too bright to please her husband. 
 She passed rapidly through the hall without 
 pausing, and went up to her dressing room. 
 Sir Rupert followed her, and scanned her closely 
 as she stood in the brilliantly lighted room. 
 She was very much flushed, and the light 
 flashed and quivered with ominous rapidity over 
 the diamonds. 
 
 " What are you looking at me in that way 
 for, Rupert ? " she asked rather sharply. 
 
 " You have done too much to-day, Clara," he 
 said gently ; '' you look very tired." 
 
 He put his arm round her as he spoke, and 
 softly kissed her fair forehead ; it was burning. 
 
 With a restless movement Lady Clara freed 
 herself from him. "It is very hot," she said. 
 "How could Alison be so absurd as to keep 
 up such a fire at this time of year ?" 
 
 She threw off her cloak with an impatient 
 gesture, and sat down on a couch. 
 
 " You must go to bed, Clara," Sir Rupert said. 
 " I will ring for Alison." 
 
 " No, no ; don't ring. I don't want to go to 
 
 YOL. X, B
 
 50 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 bed. I know I couldn't sleep if T did ; my head 
 is aching so dreadfully." 
 
 Without answering, Sir Eupert quietly opened 
 the window. " Come and look out, Clare," 
 he said, " it is such a lovely night. The moon 
 is just rising." 
 
 He put her cloak round her again as he spoke, 
 and drew her to the window. Lady Clara 
 yielded passively to his gentle firmness. 
 
 " I think I will try what sort of a lady's maid 
 I should make," he said, beginning to unfasten 
 the heavy ornament of diamonds and feathers 
 from her hair. Gently and adroitly he removed 
 it, and drew back the heavy masses of golden 
 hair from her forehead. In another moment 
 Lady Clara started violently, as something icy 
 cold was laid on her head. 
 
 " Oh Eupert ! what are you doing ?" she ex- 
 claimed, raising her hand to her head. 
 
 " Don't move it," he said. 
 
 " But what is it ? " she asked. 
 
 " Only your own handkerchief, soaked in eau 
 de Cologne. It is a better head-dress than the 
 diamonds and feathers, and quite as becoming, 
 I declare. Look at the moon now, is'nt it splen- 
 did?" 
 
 He put his arm round her again as he spoke,
 
 THE BET IS AVOX, BUT NOT PAID. 51 
 
 and drew lier gently close to him. Lady Clara 
 stood silently looking out of the window for a 
 few moments ; then suddenly turning round, she 
 buried her face on her husband's breast and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 Sir Rupert neither moved nor spoke, but his 
 face grew very pale as he stood silently holding 
 her in his arms. By degrees her sobs became 
 less violent, and at last she was quiet. Then 
 Sir Eupert spoke — 
 
 " You must go to bed, my darling," he said-; 
 " I was afraid it would be too much for you." 
 
 " No, no, it isn't that ; it isn't the ball that has 
 been too much." 
 
 "What is it, then?" 
 
 '' I must go — indeed I must, Rupert." 
 
 " Gro where, my pet ? " he asked. 
 
 She did not answer, and he repeated the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 '' I'll tell you to-morrow. But, Rupert, you 
 mustn't try to stop me — indeed you mustn't." 
 
 " Well, we will talk about it to-morrow," he 
 said " and then you shall tell me what it is 
 that has troubled you. Is your head better 
 now? 
 
 " Yes, it is a little better, but it still throbs a 
 great deal." 
 
 E 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOlfl 
 J.1BRARY
 
 52 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 *' You must really go to bed now/' lie said, 
 ringing for her maid, " and keep quiet, there's a 
 darling child." 
 
 She stood at the window for a few moments 
 longer in silence ; then, as Sir Rupert was turning 
 to leave the room, she called him back. 
 
 " What is it, my darling ?" 
 
 She looked up at him with a strange look, and 
 said in a low tone — 
 
 " Please send for Ellinor to-morrow." 
 
 " For Ellinor ! " repeated Sir Eupert. 
 
 " Yes, I want Ellinor to come. Promise me 
 you will send for her." 
 
 " Certainly, if you wish it." 
 
 '' Yes, I do wish it so much," she said vehe- 
 mently ; " Ellinor must come." 
 
 It was with a very heavy heart Sir Rupert 
 went to his own dressing-room. 
 
 The next morning a message was brought to 
 him that Lady Clara would breakfast in her own 
 room, but would like to see him directly after- 
 wards. 
 
 She was sitting on a low chair by the fire 
 when he entered, with her back to the light. 
 
 " Are you rested ?" he asked, bending down 
 to kiss her forehead as he spoke. It was much 
 cooler.
 
 THE BET IS WON^ BUT NOT PAID. 53 
 
 " Oh, yes, I am much better this morning, 
 my headache is gone now. But, Eupert, I want 
 to tell you something. 
 
 "What is it?" he said^ sitting down beside 
 her. 
 
 " Will you promise not to be angry with me ? " 
 she asked, playing nervously with her rings as 
 she spoke. 
 
 " Did you ever see me angry with you, 
 Clare?" 
 
 " No, never. Oh ! Eupert, you are far kinder 
 to me than I deserve," she exclaimed, suddenly 
 throwing herself down on her knees beside him. 
 I know I give you a great deal of trouble, but I 
 cannot help it sometimes." 
 
 " You are a silly child," he said, gently ca- 
 ressing her ; " but what is it you want to tell me 
 now? 
 
 " Well, you mustn't be angry with me, but 
 I'm going out with the hounds to-morrow." 
 
 Sir Eupert was thrown off his guard. " My 
 dear Clare, I cannot allow that," he said. 
 
 Lady Clara started up with flashing eyes. " I 
 will go," she exclaimed, in an excited tone. 
 "You have no right to stop me. I won't 
 be made a laughing-stock of, Eupert, I will 
 go."
 
 54 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " Made a laughing-stock of? What do you 
 mean ?" 
 
 " I mean what I say. I know what people 
 say now, and I won't be laughed at. I will go, 
 Rupert. You have no right to try and prevent 
 me." 
 
 " But, Clara, dearest," remonstrated Sir Ru- 
 pert, " you are not fit to hunt. Just think how 
 yesterday tired }>ou. If you wish so very much 
 to go, we will think about it ; but put it off till 
 you are more able for it." 
 
 " No, no, no," she said ; " I am quite able for 
 it. I must go to-morrow. Don't try to stop me, 
 Rupert." 
 
 " Think of your children, Clara." 
 
 " Think ! I can't think of anything," she 
 said ; " but I must go to-morrow." 
 
 Sir Rupert was silent for a few moments ; 
 then he said, " Yery well, since you wish it so 
 very much." 
 
 Lady Clara's manner grew quieter directly. 
 " I want to ride Sultan," she said. 
 
 " No, Clare. I have given way to please you," 
 replied Sir Rupert, with rather a sickly attempt 
 at a smile, " now you must yield, to please me. 
 If you go, you must ride Red Rover." 
 
 "Why not Sultan?"
 
 BUT NOT PAID. 55 
 
 " He is too excitable, a little too like his mis- 
 tress. Eed Rover is steadier, knows his work 
 better, and is a stronger horse as well." 
 
 " Yery well," said Lady Clara, " I will ride 
 whichever you like." 
 
 "And Glara, darling," continued Sir Rupert, 
 very earnestly, kneeling on one knee beside her, 
 and looking gravely into her eyes, " you must 
 promise that you will be very careful. For my 
 sake and your children's, you must run no foolish 
 risks. Just think what it would be to me if you 
 were hurt, after my letting you go." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I will try to be very careful. I 
 will keep close beside you, Rupert. I must go ; 
 I can't help it; but I will take care. And 
 
 you know, since Isabel was born, I " she 
 
 stopped. 
 
 " Yes, I know," replied Sir Rupert, " only be 
 careful. Red Rover will take good care of you, 
 if you will let him." 
 
 That was a long weary day to Sir Rupert 
 Rivers. He walked restlessly about, feeling 
 unable to settle to anything. By the evening 
 Lady Clara was quite herself again, and in high 
 delight at the thought of the run to-morrow. 
 Sir Rupert could hardly summon a smile to 
 answer her gay sallies.
 
 56 "WISE AS A SERPEXT. 
 
 " I am going to be so good, Eupert," she said ; 
 " I'm not going to ask you to let me go with the 
 hounds again for oh ! such a long time. I shall 
 be quite satisfied if you will only let me go just 
 once or twice in a season." 
 
 Yery little sleep visited Sir Rupert's pillow 
 that night. He would willingly have given half 
 his fortune to have secured a hard frost, but the 
 next morning dawned, a fine, grey, still November 
 morning, and Sir Eupert's heart sank as he 
 looked out of his window. 
 
 The dog-cart was at the door, and Sir Eupert 
 came out of his dressing-room, looking very little 
 like a man bent on pleasure. 
 
 " Are you ready^ Clare ? " he asked, as he 
 knocked at Lady Clara's door. 
 
 *' Yes, come in," she answered. 
 
 Sir Eupert entered. She was standing in the 
 middle of the room, drawing on her gloves, with 
 the light falling full upon her. How beautiful 
 she looked, her splendidly-fitting habit showing 
 ofi" her faultless figure to perfection — her golden 
 hair closely coiled in masses at the back of her 
 head^ under a net ; and those wonderful eyes ! 
 Lady Clara's beauty could well stand the sim- 
 plicity of her dress, and the entire absence of all 
 ornament. Sir Eupert paused involuntarily.
 
 THE BET IS WON", BUT NOT PAID. 57 
 
 Lady Clara looked up, and read the admiration 
 in his face. The true wife's heart beat quicker, 
 and her colour rose. 
 
 " Are you ready ? " he repeated. 
 
 " In a moment," she answered : " Alison is 
 getting my whip. I'll come directly." 
 
 Sir Eupert turned to leave the room, and then 
 he heard her call him in a low, trembling voice. 
 He was beside her in a moment. The bright 
 eyes were full of tears now. 
 
 "Eupert, you are not angry with me for 
 going ? " and the childish face was turned up to 
 him with such a pleading look. " I tried, oh ! 
 so hard, to give it up ; but I couldn't. I couldnt 
 have stayed at home to-day. Eupert, say you 
 are not angry with me." 
 
 " Angry ! a thousand times no, my darling, 
 my life ! " he exclaimed, straining her to him 
 and passionately kissing her. " Only be careful, 
 my treasure." 
 
 " I will try, indeed I will," she said, clinging 
 to him. " Oh, if only Ellinor had been here ! " 
 
 Her maid came in at the moment, with her 
 whip, and Sir Eupert descended the stairs with 
 a strange choking feeling in his throat. 
 
 " Delighted to see you in the field. Lady 
 Clara," exclaimed Major Denham, coming up
 
 58 WISE AS A SERPEXT. 
 
 as Lady Clara settled herself in the saddle. 
 " No chance for Mrs. Feversham this morning. 
 We shall have a splendid run, too. You could 
 not have chosen a better occasion for your 
 advent among us." 
 
 A cool stare, a bow — such as even Lady Dash- 
 wood would have considered haughty enough 
 for the most presuming of younger sons — and 
 an immediate view of Eed Rover's tail was all 
 Major Denham got. 
 
 " I'll be hanged if she is frisky, after all," he 
 muttered, as he rode away, with a very full 
 understanding of the probability that, if Cap- 
 tain Townshend had been very demonstrative, 
 it might have taken him three days to recover 
 from the effects. 
 
 He had not much time to meditate upon the 
 matter, however, for in a few minutes the fox 
 broke cover. Sir Rupert's heart was beating 
 almost to suffocation for the first few moments 
 after they were off; but he began to breathe 
 more freely in a little while as he watched Red 
 Rover settling down quietly into his stride and 
 going steady as a rock. More than one exp es- 
 sion of admiration was heard as Lady Clara 
 cleared the first fence. 
 
 " Easy to see who will be in at the death,
 
 THE BET IS WON, BUT NOT PAID. 5^ 
 
 JRivers," exclaimed a neighbouring squire, coming 
 up ; but you had better spare your horses. Morris 
 thinks he will make for Stowminster Mere." 
 
 " God forbid ! " exclaimed Sir Eupert, to the 
 great astonishment of the speaker. He knew 
 that if the fox took that direction it would take 
 them over some of the worst ground in the 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 They swept on quietly enough for a time, 
 however ; but Sir Rupert felt himself trembling 
 in every limb as they came near the place 
 where the fox must turn either one way or 
 the other. If he made for the Riverston covers, 
 the run would be a safe and easy one; if he 
 struck in the opposite direction, Sir Rupert 
 hardly dared to think of what the country 
 was. Another moment, and he felt a cold chill 
 come over him. They were making straight for 
 Stowminster Mere. 
 
 " Clara," he said hoarsely, " look out now. 
 We shall have some sharp work yet." 
 • She did not answer. Her face was pale and 
 set, and there was a strange light in her eyes. 
 A change had come over Red Rover, too ; 
 his pace was growing less steady, and he was 
 plunging at the reins, in a way very unusual 
 with him.
 
 60 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 The next fence they came to was a stiff one. 
 " Stop, stop, Clara," exclaimed Sir Rupert : 
 " there's a gate here. Spare your horse as much 
 as you can. You'll need it yet." 
 
 Lady Clara still did not answer, she only went 
 straight forward, and was over the fence in a 
 moment. Sir Rupert followed, and, as he came 
 over, she turned for a moment, to see how he 
 did it, and he caught a full view of her face. A 
 sudden determination came to him instantly to 
 seize her bridle, and force her off the field at all 
 risks. But that was not so easily done. Now 
 he felt the mistake he had made. Lady Clara 
 was better mounted than himself; Red Rover 
 hardly felt her light weight. Sir Rupert had 
 lost a moment in the pause he had made, and it 
 was hard to regain it. Again he called to her 
 to stop, but she took not the slightest notice. 
 
 With whip and spur he urged on the grey, 
 and was gaining on Red Rover's flank, when, at 
 a light fence, his horse put his foot in a hole, 
 and came down. They were up again in a mo- 
 ment, but the delay was fatal. Lady Clara was 
 far ahead. She seemed to see nothing, hear 
 nothing, and the pace was growing tremendous. 
 
 " Good Heavens ! look at Lady Clara Rivers ! " 
 exclaimed more than one sportsman.
 
 THE BET IS WON, BUT NOT PAID. 61 
 
 " Oh ! where is Sir Eupert ?" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Feversham, in a tone of horror. " She doesn't 
 know the country a bit, and she is making 
 straight for Hardcastle's leap. For Heaven's 
 sake, Charles, stop her, no mortal horse can 
 do it." 
 
 Before Mr. Feversham could answer, Major 
 Denham shot past, with an ashy face, and lip 
 compressed. He knew the run, and that there 
 was not a moment to be lost; and he plunged 
 his spurs up to the rowels in his horse's flanks. 
 
 " Stop, stop, Lady Clara," he shouted, as he 
 succeeded in getting near her. " Make for the 
 gate, away to the right. You can't do it ; you'll 
 be killed to a certainty." 
 
 A laugh was all the answer — such a laugh — 
 it rang in Major Denham's ears for many a long 
 day ; and straight on Red Rover went. 
 
 It was a horrible place, a tremendous hedge, 
 with — as Major Denham knew only too well — 
 a rough broken bank the other side. Even 
 if the horse succeeded in clearing the hedge, 
 which was hardly possible, there was not a hope 
 he could keep his feet when he came down. 
 There was a tradition in the county that the 
 leap had once been taken by old Hardcastle, the 
 last huntsman but one, when his horse was run-
 
 62 WISE AS A SERPEXT. 
 
 ning away ; and hence the name by which the 
 place was known ; but no man then Hving had 
 ever seen it cleared. 
 
 Red Rover hesitated as he came near the 
 place, but Lady Clara urged him madly on, and, 
 gathering himself up, he rushed at it. Major 
 Denham pulled up ; he dared not follow^ and he 
 felt almost paralysed. Everything seemed to 
 whirl before his eyes. He only saw Lady Clara 
 high in the air for a moment, and the next he 
 heard a horrible sound, and one smothered cry. 
 He never knew how he reached the other side, 
 but, when he did, it was an awful sight that met 
 his eyes. In one confused heap lay the dead 
 horse and the dead rider. Some labourers, who 
 were at work in the field, came up, and at the 
 same moment Mr. Feversham, as white as Major 
 Denham himself. 
 
 " Go back," said Major Denham, in a low 
 hoarse tone, " and keep her husband away. You 
 can t do anything here." 
 
 Mr. Feversham turned away in silence. " Now, 
 my men, get the horse off," said Major Denham. 
 
 The men obeyed, and, with some difficulty, 
 succeeded in moving the body of the horse, and 
 
 then it was too horrible. The form — but a 
 
 few minutes before so full of life and beauty —
 
 THE BET IS WON^ BUT NOT PAID. 63 
 
 crushed, bruised, mangled ; and the long golden 
 hair escaped from its fastenings, and drenched 
 with blood. Major Denham was an old soldier, 
 and had passed unmoved over many a bloody 
 battle-field, but he felt sick and faint at the 
 sight. 
 
 Gently they bore the lifeless form to the nearest 
 farmhouse, and Mrs. Fever sham, with a true 
 woman's courage, herself saw everything done 
 that could be done to remove the traces of so 
 horrible an end, before Sir Rupert saw all that 
 remained of his beautiful wife. He had asked 
 no questions, when Mr. Feversham rode up to 
 him, there was no need to do so. Mr. Fever- 
 sham's white, horror-stricken face told all. Sir 
 Rupert dropped his reins, and reeled in his 
 saddle. Mr. Feversham took the horse's bridle, 
 and silently led him away. 
 
 Without the least trace of emotion on his rigid 
 face. Sir Rupert came and stood beside the bed 
 on which they had laid the body. Silently he 
 contemplated the dead face for a few moments. 
 At last he bent down, pressed one long lingering 
 kiss on the pale lips he .had so passionately 
 kissed but so few hours before, drew one long 
 tress of hair through his fingers, then turned 
 away, and, seeming to see nothing, hear nothing,
 
 64 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 walked out of the house, and, mounting his horse, 
 rode slowly off in the direction of his desolate 
 home. 
 
 Neither Captain Martin nor Lionel Chaplin 
 ever heard anything more of their bets. The 
 next day Major Denham was gone ; and the 
 next thing his brother officers heard was, that he 
 had exchanged into a regiment in India. 
 
 " The death was too horrible," Mrs. Feversham 
 said to her husband, as they rode home. " But 
 for that I could almost have said, better so. 
 Poor, poor Sir Eupert ! " 
 
 " And the children," replied her husband ; " I 
 fear he is not at the end of it yet." 
 
 Mrs. Feversham shook her head with a sigh.
 
 THE dean's daughter. 65 
 
 CHAPTER TV. 
 
 THE DEANS DAUGHTER. 
 
 Among all the calm retreats from the tumult 
 and toil of life, which have existed in the imagi- 
 nations of painters or poets, there never was one 
 more perfect than Stowminster deanery. No 
 hermit too indolent to face all the sharp contests 
 and incessant vigilance of a soldier's life in the 
 moral battle-field, and fondly deluding himself 
 with the idea that it was after greater sanctity 
 he pined, could have found greater seclusion in 
 a desert cell. No disappointed egotist, disgusted 
 with that dull world, that could not or would 
 not recognise his own superior merit, could 
 have found a pleasanter abode in which to revel 
 to the full in the enjoyment of his own all- 
 absorbing personality. The very fact that the 
 bugle-call, or the roll of the drums, on the 
 barrack parade, could be heard from the deanery 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 6(5 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 lawn, seemed, by contrast, to render the stillness 
 around even more striking. The waves and 
 storms of life might rage without, but never 
 come within the sacred precincts. Cold and 
 silent between, interposed an invulnerable shield 
 — no other than the old cathedral itself, on the 
 southern side of which the deanery stood. Never 
 was retirement more complete. Not even a 
 single window of a canon's house overlooked 
 the deanery grounds. All that the most pre- 
 suming could do was to catch a sight of the 
 stable-yard ; so that, by carefid watchfulness, it 
 might have been known in the Close whether 
 the carriage was coming out, or whether the 
 dean or his daughter were going to ride. 
 
 The house was in perfect keeping with all its 
 surroundings. A very model of rejDose ; with 
 its large old hall and reception-rooms, all alike 
 panelled with black oak ; and its deep set 
 windows, either looking out, on the one side, 
 at the massive buttresses and richly-traced 
 windows of the cathedral, or, on the other, 
 across a velvet lawn, and under the cool shadow 
 of a few venerable cedars, towards the sunk 
 fences that divided the deanery grounds from 
 the priory park. That distant view of the 
 priory was the only thing that might have
 
 TBE dean's daughter. 67 
 
 disturbed the hermit or the egotist, speaking as 
 it did of life ; but it was not very obtrusive, the 
 house being more than half a mile distant, and, 
 in fact, it would not have been difficult to have 
 shut even it out of view by a little judicious 
 planting of quick growing shrubs. 
 
 No hermit, or egotist, rejoicing in indolent 
 retirement, however, was the Dean of Stow- 
 minster. He was a man who had fought life's 
 battles bravely in early life, and who had, since 
 his retirement to Stowminster, made good use, 
 in the cause of truth, of his own acute and 
 powerful mind and ready pen, and of the mag- 
 nificent library belonging to the cathedral. The 
 dean was an old man now, but vigorous still in 
 intellect, and beloved and respected by all who 
 knew him. 
 
 The dean's domestic life had not been without 
 its trials. Mrs. Yernon had died, three-and- 
 twenty years before, in giving birth to a 
 daughter ; the only one of a large family who 
 had not died in early childhood. This child 
 the dean had brought with him, still an infant, 
 to Stowminster, and, amid all his varied labours, 
 had found time personally to superintend the 
 education of little Maud. He had rather peculiar 
 ideas on the subject of education, especially of 
 
 F 2
 
 68 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 female education, one of which was a decidedly 
 low opinion of women's powers as teachers. A 
 defect which, however, he fully believed to he 
 owing more to their own defective education 
 than to any inherent fault in female composition. 
 The dean was of a v^ry chivalrous nature, and 
 would never have dreamed of putting such an 
 affront on the sex as that. Even had he believed 
 it true he would have kept it to himself, unless 
 absolutely forced to speak ; but he did not, and 
 always boldly contended that the faults of women 
 were chiefly those of education. He was, more- 
 over, extremely courteous, and never had been 
 known, but once, to be ruffled out of all patience 
 with a woman. One day, when Maud was about 
 eight years old, one of the canon's wives came 
 to the deanery to speak to the dean about some 
 business. Maud was in the room^ The business 
 jBnished, the visitor, who was the mother of 
 several daughters, and considered herself rather 
 an authority on all such matters, turned to the 
 child : 
 
 '* How fast Maud is growing, Mr. Dean." 
 " Yes, she is," replied the dean, stroking his 
 little girl's soft brown hair, "but don't you 
 think she looks very well and strong, never- 
 theless ? "
 
 THE dean's daughter. 69 
 
 • " Oh, very well indeed. She could not look 
 better in health. I suppose you will have a 
 governess for her soon, will you not ? " 
 
 '' No, madam, I shall not," responded the dean 
 energetically. 
 
 " Ah, well, I am almost glad to hear you say 
 that, for indeed I' have sometimes thought her 
 life here was hardly a suitable one for a girl, 
 and, in that case, I suppose you purpose sending 
 her to school. I could recommend you a most 
 desirable one near London, where my own dear 
 girls have been, and which " 
 
 " Madam," interrupted the dean, " you are 
 very kind, but allow me to inform you that I 
 would very nearly as soon send her to be edu- 
 cated in a penitentiary. And now, madam, as 
 I have just telegraphed to my publisher in 
 London, to say that he shall receive a very im- 
 portant pamphlet by the first post to-morrow 
 morning, and it wants but two hours to post 
 time, you will perhaps excuse me, as I have to 
 look over it carefully before sending it off." 
 Saying which, the dean bowed and disappeared 
 into his library. 
 
 " It was very rude, I know," he said after- 
 wards. " But I couldn't have stayed another 
 moment in the room with that woman. Send
 
 70 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 Maud to school indeed ! " The dean never 
 seemed to feel quite certain about Mrs. Herbert 
 after that. 
 
 And so Maud Yernon was educated at the 
 deanery, and had not even a governess. The 
 widow of an old college friend of the dean's, 
 who had been left in rather reduced circum- 
 stances, took up her abode in the house, soon 
 after the conversation above recorded ; and then, 
 to the scandal of all the Close, it was rumoured 
 that Maud Yernon had a tutor. " Impossible ! " 
 ejaculated the Close breathlessly ; but it turned 
 out not only to be possible, but actually a fact. 
 Maud had a tutor, and every single thing that 
 could be taught her by men, she learnt from 
 masters. Many dire prognostications were ut- 
 tered as to the results of the dean's system. 
 Maud would grow up a perfect savage ; the very 
 worst type of a strong-minded woman ; intoler- 
 ably blue, and everything that was objectionable. 
 Ah ! they little knew the dean. Maud was con- 
 stantly taken to visit at neighbouring country- 
 houses, and saw more society, as a child, than 
 any girl in the neighbourhood. But the most 
 utter confusion to all speculators on the subject 
 came, when she was eighteen, and it became 
 known that a lady of rank in the county had
 
 THE dean's daughter. 71 
 
 undertaken to present her, and that she was to 
 spend the next season under her charge, in 
 London. After that the gossips of Stowminster, 
 canonical and non-canonical, gave up the dean 
 and his educational theories as utterly imprac- 
 ticable. 
 
 Certainly, from whatever cause it may have ^ 
 arisen, the fact v/as certain, that the dean's 
 theories had answered in practice, much better 
 than such theories are wont to do. Maud was 
 very different from what it had been prophesied 
 she would be. She was essentially feminine in 
 appearance. Quiet and graceful, but very dig- 
 nified in manner, and remarkable for exquisite 
 taste in dress. The only thing about her which 
 was not quite feminine, was the perfect repose 
 which was her principal characteristic. Not 
 that repose of manner is in general unfeminine ; 
 but Maud's repose was something different, 
 though the difference was more to be felt than 
 defined. It seemed something deeper ; more 
 the repose of great strength, than that of mere 
 quiet refinement. There was a wonderful depth 
 in the large clear brown eyes, and an immense 
 deal of quiet thought about the forehead ; per- 
 haps the impression was helped on too, by her 
 tall commanding figure, and well-shaped head.
 
 72 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 They, with the brown eyes and hair, were Maud's 
 only claim to beauty ; neither in feature or com- 
 plexion was she at all remarkable, but somehow, 
 it never seemed to occur to any one to consider 
 whether she was beautiful or not. She was 
 Maud Vernon, nothing more. 
 
 The dean and Maud were lingering over the 
 remains of breakfast, one morning, busy with 
 the contents of the post-bag. The dean was 
 reading a letter, when a slight expression of sur- 
 prise from Maud made him look up. 
 
 " What is it ? " he asked. 
 
 A half-smile was playing round Maud's lips, 
 as she replied. 
 
 " Edgar Darryll is married." 
 
 The dean smiled as well. Edgar Darryll was 
 the possessor of the priory, and had, during 
 Maud's first and in fact only season in London, 
 been very demonstrative ; though, to the dean's 
 great satisfaction, without receiving any encou- 
 ragement, as he neither liked him very much, 
 nor felt inclined to part with his daughter so 
 soon. 
 
 " Who has he married ? " he asked. 
 
 " It's not so easy to find out," replied Maud, 
 " amid the confusion of names. They must 
 have had half the clergymen in London to
 
 THE dean's daughter. 73 
 
 marry them, I think. Oh ! here it is : ' to 
 Isabel Yere, only daughter of the late Sir 
 Rupert and Lady Clara Rivers, of Riverston 
 Hall, in the county of 
 
 " Surely," said Maud,^ " Riverston is some- 
 where in this neighbourhood, is it not ?" 
 
 "Yes, it is about fifteen miles from here," 
 replied the dean. 
 
 " How is it one knows so little about it ? " 
 
 " The place has been shut up for years," 
 answered her father. "It is a thousand pities, 
 for it is a splendid old place ; but I remember 
 there was something rather tragical about the 
 death of Lady Clara Rivers. It happened about 
 a year before you were born. I know she was 
 killed riding. I think her horse ran away with 
 her. It made a great sensation in the county at 
 the time, and Sir Rupert never would come near 
 the place again. I did not, however, know he 
 was dead. He lived almost entirely abroad 
 afterwards. There was something peculiarly 
 painful about it all, for they had not been 
 married many years, and she was almost a child, 
 and, I believe, wonderfully beautiful." 
 
 "How very sad," said Maud. "I wonder 
 I never heard anything about it." 
 
 " There always seemed something rather
 
 74 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 mysterious about it altogether," replied the 
 dean. "They had led rather a retired life at 
 Riverston. I believe Lady Clara had never 
 been very strong." 
 
 " Then does Riverston belong to Mrs. Dar- 
 ryll?" asked Maud. 
 
 " No," replied the dean. " There was a son 
 older than she is; but she is a great heiress 
 I imagine. Lady Clara Rivers was Lord Bel- 
 lingham's only child, and must have had an 
 immense fortune, I should think." 
 
 " How old is Mrs. Darryll ? " 
 
 The dean thought for a moment. " She must 
 be between twenty-four and twenty-five, I think. 
 She was quite an infant when her mother 
 died." 
 
 " I wonder whether they will come to live at 
 the priory ? " 
 
 " I should think it most likely," replied the 
 dean. " Darryll was always very fond of it." 
 
 The dean went off to the library as he spoke. 
 Maud turned her attention to her domestic 
 duties, and then seated herself on a low stool in 
 one of the deep windows of the drawing-room to 
 read. But her thoughts would keep flying off 
 to this marriage, in which she could not help 
 feeling a great interest. Maud had often felt
 
 THE dean's daughter. 75 
 
 the want of a companion, for tliere were none 
 about her in whom she felt much interest, and 
 she had frequently looked at the priory and 
 thought if Edgar Darryll would only marry 
 some really desirable wife, what an advantage it 
 w^ould be to her. And now the marriage had 
 come to pass, it only remained to see whether 
 Mrs. Darryll would turn out what she hoped she 
 might. She wondered she had never heard of 
 her in London. She must be about a year older 
 than herself, so muot have been out when she 
 was presented ; and if she was so great an 
 heiress, it seemed strange she had never heard 
 her name. Then her thoughts went back to the 
 sad story of Lady Clara Rivers' tragical end, and 
 she wondered afresh that she had never heard 
 about it. Suddenly the door of the drawing- 
 room opened, and the footman announced — 
 
 "Sir Guy Rivers!" 
 
 If Maud had received an electric shock, she 
 could not have started to her feet more suddenly, 
 or with a more utterly bewildered expression of 
 countenance. For once her calm repose was 
 utterly put to flight, and she stood speechless. 
 
 " Sir Guy Rivers wishes to see the dean, 
 Miss," repeated the servant, looking with some 
 astonishment at his young mistress.
 
 76 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 Fortunately for Maud, Sir Guy Rivers' pro- 
 gress over the polished oak floor of the hall was 
 by no means so rapid as that of the practised 
 footman, and she had a few moments to recover 
 her composure before he entered the room. 
 
 " Miss Yernon ? " said Sir Guy in an enquiring 
 tone. 
 
 Maud bowed in silent assent. 
 
 "I trust you and the dean will pardon my 
 intruding in this unceremonious way," continued 
 Sir Guy. " I feel I ought to apologise ; but the 
 fact is, I have been sent here." 
 
 " I am sure papa will be very pleased to see 
 you," said Maud, feeling she must say some- 
 thing. 
 
 "I was on my way to the priory. I don't 
 know whether you may have seen my sister's 
 marriage in the papers. She was married to 
 Darryll last week." 
 
 " We saw it this morning," said Maud, " and 
 it seemed so strange you should come so directly 
 afterwards." 
 
 " Ah, that is what brought me over. I want 
 to see the place. Darryll has commissioned me 
 to see to its being put in order, and they tell me 
 down at the inn that the dean would be able to 
 tell me where to find his bailiff."
 
 THE DEAN S DAUGHTER. 77 
 
 "I am sure he can, but here comes papa to 
 answer the question for himself." 
 
 Sir Guy explained the object of his visit. 
 " Can you tell me where to find the man ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes," answered the dean, " but I think the 
 better plan would be for me to send him word 
 to meet you at the priory in the afternoon, and 
 then we could walk up there after luncheon." 
 
 " A thousand thanks ; you are very kind. I 
 should like it of all things. I should think the 
 place must be in terrible disorder. Darryll tells 
 me he has not been here for a long time." 
 
 " Yes, indeed it is," said the dean. " It will 
 take some time to get it into order." 
 
 " They'll have to look sharp then," replied 
 Sir Gruy, laughing. " I suspect the happy couple 
 will soon get tired of love-making, and then 
 they'll want to come down." 
 
 " Where are they now ? " asked Maud. 
 
 " Heaven knows,. I don't. Somewhere in 
 Wales, I fancy." 
 
 " Will they live at the priory ? " 
 
 *' Well, I fancy they mean to do so, but I 
 really don't know very much about it. The 
 fact is, I was abroad when it was all settled, and 
 did not come over till just before the marriage ;
 
 78 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 SO I don't know very much about their arrange- 
 ments." 
 
 Maud looked at Sir Guy, but made no answer. 
 The dean asked him some question, which drew 
 his attention away, so she had time for an un- 
 disturbed survey. 
 
 He was a fine specimen of an Enghsh country 
 gentleman, certainly. A tall, well-made, power- 
 ful man, and very fair, though well bronzed with 
 exposure to the sun. His face was very hand- 
 some ; at least, all was that a heavy moustache 
 and beard allowed to be visible ; yet there was 
 something about it that Maud did not quite like. 
 There was an ominous curl about the finely-cut 
 nostril, and an occasional flash in the merry blue 
 eyes, which told of storms that might probably 
 be easily roused. But it was a generous, open 
 face, and his frank, light-hearted manner was 
 very captivating. 
 
 " Are you coming up to the priory with us, 
 Maud ? " asked her father, as they rose from the 
 luncheon table. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; do come. Miss Yernon," exclaimed 
 Sir Guy. " It is a lovely afternoon." 
 
 Maud was soon ready ; and when she entered 
 the drawing-room she found Sir Guy alone. He 
 was looking out of the window.
 
 THE dean'sJ^daughtek. 79 
 
 " We are to wait a few moments," he said, 
 turning round as slie entered. "The dean 
 has been called to see some one on business, 
 but he said he should not be long. Do you know, 
 Miss Yernon, I was just thinking, when you came 
 in, that this is the most charming spot I have 
 ever seen in my life." 
 
 " It is very charming to me," replied Maud ; 
 '^ but I rather wonder that you should admire it 
 so much." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Because it is so extremely quiet." 
 
 " That's just why I do like it. I don't mean 
 to say I should like always to spend my life in 
 such a place, without ever leaving it ; but there 
 is something wonderfully soothing in such per- 
 fect repose, after one has been racketting about 
 the world. I should like to have just such a 
 place to come to whenever I wanted to be quiet. 
 Do places have a great effect on you. Miss 
 Yernon ? " 
 
 " In what way do you mean ? " asked Maud, 
 a little surprised at the question. 
 
 Sir Guy hesitated. " I am not quite sure that 
 I can explain my own meaning, but I know they 
 have a great effect on me. But then, perhaps, 
 you are not excitable, and I believe I am. Now
 
 80 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 such a place as this, for instance, is just like a 
 mental opiate — if I might use such an expres- 
 sion — to me, when I have been at all excited ; 
 it seems to soothe one down so instantly. 
 Some people are the same to me. Only being 
 near them quiets me down ; and then other places 
 and people have just the contrary effect." 
 
 " I think I know what you mean," Maud 
 answered ; " but I don'4: think I am at all exci- 
 table, and, therefore not so easily affected by ex- 
 ternal objects. But I fancy all people who are 
 excitable have the same feeling, to a certain 
 extent." 
 
 " It's rather a shame to say so," continued Sir 
 Guy, hardly seeming to notice what Maud had 
 said, '' but my sister Isabel is just one of those 
 people who do not exercise by any means a 
 soothing influence on me. We never could hit 
 it off exactly." 
 
 " Perhaps that is not entirely Mrs. Darryll's 
 fault," replied Maud, gravely. She did not quite 
 like the way in which Sir Guy spoke of his sister. 
 
 " Mrs. Darryll ! " repeated Sir Guy. " Oh, yes, 
 by the bye, I quite forgot she was Mrs. Darryll. 
 No, not for a moment do I mean that. Miss 
 Vernon, or that Isabel and I are not good friends 
 in the main ; but we don't suit each other a bit.
 
 THE dean's daughter. 81 
 
 I believe we must all irritate each other. I 
 know I m irritable. I suppose all excitable people 
 are. Don't for a moment think I meant to imply 
 the fault was Isabel's. I dare say it is entirely 
 my own." 
 
 "I suppose people can prevent the feeling/' 
 said Maud. "All they can do is to check the 
 expression of it." 
 
 Sir Guy made a grimace — " I'm afraid I'm 
 not very good at checking the expression of any- 
 thing I feel at the moment." 
 
 Maud did not answer ; and after a pause Sir 
 Guy exclaimed — 
 
 " This certainly is an awfully jolly place. 
 Have vou ever seen Riverston, Miss Yernon ?" 
 
 "No, never; I have never been near it." 
 
 "It is a fine old place, but in sad disorder. 
 My conscience rather reproaches me about it. 
 I'm afraid I've been a very bad landlord as yet, 
 I have been there so little. However, I mean to 
 do better in future, and am going to begin by 
 having the place all got into order." 
 
 " It must have been a great disadvantage to 
 the tenantry, it being shut up for so long," said 
 Maud. 
 
 " It has, indeed. Do you know. Miss Yernon, 
 Riverston has not had a mistress for more than 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 WISE A3 A SERPENT. 
 
 fifty years, except," he added, in a lower tone, 
 " for three short years. You have heard about 
 my poor mother, I suppose." 
 
 " Never until this morning," replied Maud. 
 ' ' Papa told me about it when we were talking 
 about your sister's marriage." 
 
 " Was it not too horrible ?" continued Sir 
 Guy ; an expression of deep sadness gathering 
 over his bright face. Poor mother ! so young 
 and so beautiful. You know my father never 
 would go near the place again; and in truth, 
 that is partly what has kept me away. It seems 
 to me as if she must haunt the place. I can't 
 shake off the remembrance of that horrible, 
 horrible death, whenever I am there. I fancy I 
 can see her, such a child herself, playing with 
 me in the picture gallery, and letting me pull 
 down all her beautiful golden hair, till she was 
 almost hidden by it. My old nurse has often 
 told me about it. Do you know, people won't 
 believe me, but I can remember her death." 
 
 " Surely that is not possible," said Maud. 
 
 " It is, indeed. I don't mean to say I can 
 remember anything distinctly about it ; but all 
 my childish recollections e^;id in a sort of — what 
 shall I call it — a sort of undefined horror, and 
 a confused recollection of something dreadful;
 
 THE dean's daughter. 83 
 
 and I am quite sure it must have been ber death. 
 I was two years old, you know. Have you 
 ever seen my mother's picture ? No, of course 
 you have not, as you have never been at Eiver- 
 ston. I have a miniature of her here. Would 
 you like to see it ?" 
 
 " I should indeed, very much." 
 
 Sir Guy unfastened his watch-guard, and 
 opening a large gold locket, gave it to Maud. 
 " People who knew her tell me it is a perfect 
 likeness. It was done for my poor father, just 
 after they were married." 
 
 Maud looked long and earnestly at the like- 
 ness, and tears almost rose to her eyes, as she 
 thought of the tragical end of the lovely girl, 
 whose wonderful eyes seemed looking straight 
 into hers. 
 
 " How very like her you are," she said. 
 
 ''Do you think so?" exclaimed Sir Gruy, 
 eagerly. " I am so glad. Most people say I 
 am, but I like to hear a stranger say so. 
 Strangers judge so much better of likenesses than 
 friends, and I like to think I am like her. My 
 child-mother. Only one-and-twenty when she 
 died." 
 
 The sadness of his look deepened as he looked 
 at the portrait, and Maud watched him silently. 
 
 G 2
 
 84 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 There was a wonderful fascination about his face, 
 with that look upon it. Suddenly, like a flash, 
 the expression changed. 
 
 " Here's some one else," he said, opening the 
 other side of the locket and handing it back to 
 Maud. " My sister Isabel; only there on suffer- 
 ance, you know, till some one more interesting 
 comes." 
 
 " What a contrast between you ! " 
 
 " Yes, I should think so. Old Lady Dash- 
 wood^ an antiquated cousin of ours up in London, 
 says Isabel is very like her grandmother^ Lady 
 Bellingham." 
 
 They chatted on for some time until the dean 
 came in. " What must you think of me ? " he 
 exclaimed ; " I have kept you such a time." 
 
 " No, surely not/' said Sir Guy. 
 
 " Well, it is more than half an hour," replied 
 the dean. 
 
 *' So it is, I declare ; I did not think you had 
 been gone more than ten minutes. I suppose 
 we must go ; but I could sit here for hours 
 without moving and look out at those jolly old 
 cedars. Miss Yernon, whenever everything goes 
 wrong with me, as things do sometimes, you 
 may expect to see me come galloping over, to 
 ask you to let me sit here and just look out of
 
 THE dean's daughter. 85 
 
 the window, without speaking to any one for a 
 couple of hours, and I am sure I should be as 
 meek as a lamb by the end of the time." 
 
 They found the bailiff waiting for them at the 
 priory. It was a fine place, but in sad dis- 
 order. 
 
 " Why this is nearly as bad as Riverston," 
 said Sir Guy ; " but it is a jolly comfortable 
 house, much better than I had any idea it was. 
 Ah ! I see you have begun getting things straight 
 outside," he said to the bailiff, as they stepped 
 out on to the lawn and saw gardeners busy in all 
 directions. 
 
 " Yes, Sir Gruy. I thought when we heard 
 about the marriage that we had better get things 
 a little forward at once, outside." 
 
 " Quite right ; and I have all your orders here 
 for you — a whole volume, at least :" and he pro- 
 ceeded to tell the man all that was to be done. 
 
 The bailiff listened in silence, but with rather 
 a perplexed expression. When Sir Guy had 
 finished, he said, after a moment's hesitation — 
 
 " Have you heard from Mr. Darryll within the 
 last few days. Sir Guy ? " 
 
 " Heard from him ! No. Why do you ask ? " 
 
 The man hesitated again. "Why, I don't 
 quite know what I should do. Sir Guy. I think,
 
 86 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 perhaps, Mr. Darryll has changed his mind, and 
 I thought he would have let you know." 
 
 " Changed his mind ! What on earth do you 
 mean, man ? " 
 
 " Why, I had a long letter from Mr. Darryll 
 yesterday, Sir Gruy, changing all those orders, 
 and saying he would write and tell you." 
 
 " Yesterday?" 
 
 " Yes, Sir Guy." 
 
 " Changing all these orders ? " 
 
 "Yes, SirG-uy." 
 
 Sir Guy's colour rose and his eyes flashed. 
 Something very like an oath rose to his lips, but 
 he checked it in time, and only said, with an 
 angry stamp — 
 
 " What does the fellow mean, I wonder, send- 
 ing me tearing all over the country like this, 
 and then quietly changing everything, without 
 a word to me. Why, I've given half a hundred 
 orders for him in the town this morning. I'll 
 be bound," he muttered, in a lower tone, " that's 
 Isabel's doing." 
 
 " But what do you think I ought to do, Sir 
 Guy?" 
 
 "Do? Do just whatever you please," ex- 
 claimed Sir Guy, vehemently ; " I wash my 
 hands of the whole business. I'll see the fellow
 
 THE dean's daughter. 87 
 
 hanged before I'll be bothered about it. Confound 
 him, I've had no end of trouble all for nothing." 
 " I think you had better follow the last instruc- 
 tions you received from Mr. Darryll," said the 
 dean, quietly. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, most sincerely, Mr. Dean," 
 said Sir Gruy, turning round with a start, as if 
 he had until the moment entirely forgotten the 
 dean's presence, " for letting my temper get the 
 better of me ; but you have no idea how much 
 unnecessary trouble this precious brother-in-law 
 of mine has given me, all of which I might have 
 been spared if he had only condescended to 
 inform me he had changed all his plans." 
 
 " What could you expect from a man only just 
 married?" asked the dean, smiling. 
 
 " I think you will have to try a couple of 
 hours at my drawing-room window," said Maud, 
 in a low tone, as the dean turned to answer 
 some question from the bailiff. 
 
 Sir Guy laughed. " I did not expect to need 
 the remedy so soon," he said. "It is a great 
 bore to have such an excitable temper. Miss Ver- 
 non. If you hadn't been here, I should have 
 sworn like a trooper, I know." 
 
 " I am very sorry to hear it," said Maud, 
 gravely.
 
 88 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " I know it's very wrong, and it is a habit I 
 detest myself; but when I am put out suddenly 
 I cannot keep it down." 
 
 " How did you manage to keep it down now, 
 then, simply because a lady was present?" 
 
 " It was not the fact of a lady being present. 
 With shame I confess it, but it is not the pre- 
 sence of every lady that would have stopped 
 me. It was because you were by. I don't know 
 what it is, but I don't think I could get quite 
 beyond myself if you were by. You know I 
 told you I was very susceptible to external in- 
 fluences." 
 
 " Oh, am I one of the opiates ? " said Maud, 
 smiling. 
 
 " I dont know," replied Sir Guy, "I suppose 
 so. I only know that it is a long time since I 
 have felt so angry as I did just now, and yet got 
 quiet again so soon. I'm afraid you'll think me 
 a horrible egotist. Miss Yernon. I declare I've 
 done nothing but talk about myself since we 
 met. Look here," he added, turning suddenly to 
 the bailiff, " the best thing you can do is to abide 
 by the instructions you have received. I'll write 
 to Mr. Darryll to-night, and put it all right with 
 him. If he has clianged his mind again since he 
 wrote to you, and intends you should do as he
 
 THE dean's daughter. 89 
 
 settled with me, lie must take the consequences. 
 ril clear you." 
 
 "Thank you, Sir Guy; I'm sure I'm very 
 much obliged to you." 
 
 " I suspect Darryll is rather a Turk with his 
 people, is he not ?" said Sir Guy, as they walked 
 slowly across the park. 
 
 " He is strict, I fancy," replied the dean, " but 
 nothing more." 
 
 They reached the deanery, and Sir Guy pre- 
 pared to leave. 
 
 " Will you not stay and dine here ? " asked the 
 dean. 
 
 " Thank you, no ; you are very kind, but not 
 to-day. I must go home." 
 
 " Then let us send down for your horse." 
 
 " Thanks ; I should be much obhged if you 
 would be kind enough." 
 
 A groom was despatched. " Will you come 
 and look at the cathedral while you are waiting ? " 
 said Maud. 
 
 '' I shall be delighted." 
 
 They entered by the private door, and Sir 
 Guy drew a deep breath as he stood in the silent 
 nave. 
 
 " This is even better than the deanery. Miss 
 Vernon," he said, in a low tone.
 
 90 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " Then we shall be able to help you, even if 
 my drawing-room is engaged," said Maud, laugh- 
 ing ; " the servants will always be able to give 
 you the key of this door." 
 
 *' Thanks to you, I have not needed it to- 
 day," he replied. Then, turning to the dean, he 
 said — 
 
 " Have you ever been at Riverston, Mr. 
 Dean?" 
 
 " Never," replied the dean. 
 
 " Ah, well, as soon as it is in some order, 
 and there's been time to get all the love- 
 making up there at the priory over, I mean 
 Isabel to come over and entertain for me ; and 
 then I shall count on a visit from Miss Yernon 
 and yourself. You will promise to come, won't 
 you? 
 
 " With pleasure," replied the dean. 
 
 " I want to make the old place bright again. 
 The gloom of the past seems to me to hang over 
 it still, and I must shake off the feeling, or I 
 shall never be able to stay there, and I think, if 
 I once have a large party there, and a little 
 gaiety, it will get rid of it. It is a good oppor- 
 tunity now Isabel is married." 
 
 " He is a fine, handsome yoimg fellow/' said 
 the dean to his daughter, as they watched Sir
 
 THE dean's daughter. 91 
 
 Guy riding away, *' but there is something pecu- 
 liar about him." 
 
 " He is terribly excitable," replied Maud, 
 thoughtfully. " I never came across any one 
 the least like him before. He is just the sort 
 of man I could fancy would be just what those 
 about him made him." 
 
 " That is a dangerous disposition, especially 
 for a man," said the dean. 
 
 Maud made no answer, but walked slowly 
 across the lawn into the drawing-room, and, sit- 
 ting down by the window, looked out at the old 
 cedars. There she sat with that look of intense 
 thought upon her face, which gave it such a 
 wonderful depth of expression when anything 
 interested her, until the dressing-bell startled 
 her from her reverie.
 
 92 WISE AS A SEKPENT. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL. 
 
 The priory rapidly began to assume the appear- 
 ance of an inhabited place again under the 
 energetic hands of Mr. Darryll's bailiff. Maud 
 met him one morning, as she was coming home 
 from a ride, and stopped to ask him how soon 
 the Darrylls were coming. 
 
 "I've just had a letter from Mr. Darryll, Miss 
 Vernon, to say they will be here the end of the 
 week ; either Friday or Saturday, they are not 
 quite sure which ; but I am to hear on Thursday 
 morning which day to expect them." 
 
 " You will be glad when they do really come, 
 I should think," said Maud. 
 
 " I shall, indeed. It's been a great drawback 
 to everything here, Mr. Darryll being so much 
 away." 
 
 Maud rode home, resolving to capture the
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL. 93 
 
 dean on the earliest possible opportunity, and 
 call on Mrs. Darryll, and to put the project in 
 training immediately. She knew, by experi- 
 ence, that where a morning visit was concerned 
 her father was very apt to be elated, and she 
 was very anxious to see Mrs. Darryll. 
 
 On Thursday morning, however, her maid 
 appeared with a face which evidently betokened 
 some important piece of intelligence. " Do you 
 know, miss," she said, " Mr. and Mrs. Darryll 
 arrived at the priory last night." 
 
 ** Last night ! " repeated Maud, " impossible ! 
 Mr. Saunders told me, himself, they were not 
 coming till Friday or Saturday." 
 
 " Indeed, miss, it is quite true, I assure you." 
 
 ** How did you hear it ? " 
 
 *' Robert was down the town early this 
 morning, miss, and he met Mr. Saunders him- 
 self, and he told him Mr. and Mrs. Darryll had 
 arrived, quite unexpectedly, in a common fly. 
 They got out of the train at Bradley Station, 
 and drove over. Mr. Saunders said you might 
 have knocked him down with a feather when he 
 saw Mr. Darryll. He had sent one of the men 
 in his gig, in the afternoon, to Riverston, to 
 speak to Sir Guy about something, and was 
 very vexed at his being so late, so he went out
 
 94 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 intending to speak to him about it, and almost ran 
 against Mr. Darryll as he came up the hall steps." 
 
 " But what made them come in such a strange 
 way ? " asked Maud. 
 
 " No one knows, miss, but every one thinks 
 it so very odd." 
 
 So all Stowminster did think, and was much 
 puzzled to account for Mr. and Mrs. DarrylFs 
 conduct in thus slipping quietly in, and de- 
 priving the town of the pleasure of seeing them 
 arrive at the railway station, and drive past on 
 their way to the priory. 
 
 Maud communicated the news to her father 
 at breakfast, and, like every one else, the dean 
 responded — 
 
 " How very strange ! " 
 
 "It seems an odd caprice," replied Maud, 
 " and singularly devoid of object." 
 
 So it appeared, certainly ; for though Mr. 
 Darryll was a man of large fortune, and good 
 family, he was not one of the county magnates, 
 and therefore had no occasion to dread that 
 awful ordeal, a public reception. 
 
 " We shall have to call there directly, papa," 
 Maud said, after a few moments' silence. 
 
 " I suppose so/' he answered, with a sigh, 
 '' but not till after Sunday, I suppose."
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL. 95 
 
 *^ No, certainly not." 
 
 The dean seemed relieved by even the tem- 
 porary respite. 
 
 The congregation at the cathedral on Sunday 
 morning was unusually good. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Darryll's conduct was unaccountable, therefore 
 a slight shade of mystery seemed to linger about 
 it, and Stowminster was interested. One of the 
 canons — an old man without any family — was a 
 distant relation of the Darrylls, and his seats 
 had always been used by the priory people ; so 
 it was confidently antici23ated that the bride and 
 bridegroom would make their first public ap- 
 pearance in the cathedral, and thither all the 
 beauty and fashion of Stowminster crowded. 
 It was a decided " occasion " — for not only was 
 there the ordinary attraction of a bride, but the 
 further one, in the eyes of the feminine part of 
 the community at least, of that of a bride whose 
 " magnificent trousseau," the county paper had 
 duly reported, had come straight from Paris. 
 
 Nor was Stowminster disappointed on the 
 subject of the bride^ though very much so on 
 that of the trousseau. Mrs. Darryll did appear 
 at the cathedral, but she appeared, as a dis- 
 gusted damsel afterwards affirmed, " in a 
 common grey dress and jacket, and a bonnet
 
 96 AVISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 exactly like some Miss Smirke had had in her 
 shop at least three months ago." 
 
 " Just serves you right, too," retorted an acid 
 elderly spinster, who had been prevented going 
 out that morning by a very severe cold, " for 
 going to church just to look at a bride." 
 
 Even the calm serene Maud Vernon was 
 slightly disturbed in her devotions by Mrs. 
 Darryll's close proximity to the deanery seats ; 
 and she caught herself, more than once, stealing 
 a look at her during the service. 
 
 *^ Well, what's your report of the bride ? " 
 asked the dean when he came in to luncheon. 
 
 " I don't think I have any report to give, as 
 yet," Maud answered, " beyond the fact that 
 she is tall and slight, has very dark hair and 
 eyes, and is decidedly handsome." 
 
 ** But do you like her looks ? " 
 
 " I don't quite know. The fact is, she didn't 
 look to me quite natural. There w^as a sort of 
 consciousness about her, as if she felt that people 
 were looking at her, and was disturbed by it." 
 
 "Well, don't you think it is rather an 
 ordeal ? " asked the dean. 
 
 " Perhaps it is," replied Maud thoughtfully, 
 " but somehow I don't think it would ever occur 
 to me to think that people were looking at me."
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL. 97 
 
 The dean smiled. He had, not very long 
 before, seen Maud the centre of attraction to all 
 eyes in a tolerably large assemblage, on the 
 occasion of the laying the foundation stone of a 
 new charitable asylum in the neighbourhood, 
 which ceremony she had been requested to 
 perform, in compliment to the dean and chapter, 
 who had subscribed very largely to the building ; 
 and he was quite aware of the perfect self- 
 possession, and charming absence of all self- 
 consciousness, with which she had performed 
 her task. 
 
 " But what if you were a bride," he said, 
 " first appearing in public ? " 
 
 Maud laughed. *^I suppose I am no judge 
 on that point ; but still I cannot help thinking, 
 if I was just married, and entering on a new 
 home and an untried life, my thoughts would 
 be too much occupied with more important 
 subjects to let me remember that people were 
 criticising me so closely, or care very much if 
 I did." 
 
 "A blessed amount of self-forgetfulness, my 
 child," said the dean gravely, *' and as rare as 
 it is valuable. Long, long may it be yours. It 
 is the best possible sign of both mental and 
 moral health." 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " Is it, papa ? " Maud replied, with some sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Most undoubtedly. A healthy mind is as 
 unconscious of its own existence, as a healthy 
 body. You are not conscious of the complicated 
 physical structure you possess, until some part 
 gets out of order, and with the mind it seems 
 much the same." 
 
 " I suppose it is," said Maud, " but I never 
 thought of it in that light before. What a pity 
 it is," she added, laughing, " that one cannot put 
 the mind under a course of medical treatment, 
 when one begins to be conscious one has a mind, 
 like one can one's body." 
 
 "Ah, that is a very difficult subject, Maud. 
 You have suggested a problem which has puzzled 
 wiser heads than yours or mine before now, and 
 a discussion of which, at this moment," he added, 
 rising, "though interesting enough, would not 
 have a beneficial effect on my afternoon sermon." 
 
 " Why not ? " asked Maud, " surely moral 
 health is as much your special charge, as physical 
 health is a doctor's." 
 
 " And our prescriptions meet with just about 
 the same treatment," replied the dean, " and not 
 only that, but we ourselves share the same fate 
 as our medical brethren."
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL. 99 
 
 " How do you mean, papa ? " 
 
 " That we may remonstrate and warn, as 
 doctors do, all in vain ; but if a quack only 
 speaks, all the world will run after him." 
 
 " Who are the quacks ? " asked Maud, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 " I think I will leave you to discover that 
 for yourself," replied the dean, as he left the 
 room. 
 
 Maud succeeded in carrying- off her father, in 
 the course of a few days, to pay a visit at the priory. 
 Mrs. Darryll was out, rather to Maud's disap- 
 pointment, but greatly to the dean's satisfaction. 
 
 " I only hope I shall be out, when they return 
 the visit," he said, as they drove away. 
 
 " What an unsociable man you are," replied 
 his daughter. 
 
 " Not at all. If one might make the acquaint- 
 ance in a sensible way, by inviting them at once 
 to dinner, I should not mind ; but all this tire- 
 some morning visiting, I cannot stand." 
 
 The dean's wish was granted. He had not 
 long left the house, the following day, when Mrs. 
 Darryll's carriage drove up. 
 
 '' Ah, Miss Vernon ! " she exclaimed, the mo- 
 ment she entered the room, " I am really quite 
 glad to hear the dean is out."
 
 100 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " Why ? " asked Maud, rather surprised at the 
 strange greeting. 
 
 " Because I ought to have waited for Edgar 
 to come with me, I know ; but I found he could 
 not possibly do so, either to-day or to-morrow, 
 and I wanted so much to see you, I would not 
 wait. I met some friends of yours in London, 
 just before I was married, and of course I wanted 
 to know what sort of a place I should find this, 
 and asked them all sorts of questions. They 
 told me, you know, they had stayed here, and 
 they told me about you ; and, do you know, the 
 moment I saw you in the cathedral, on Sunday, 
 I was certain it was you, though I did not know 
 the deanery seats, and I was so in hopes I should 
 see you soon. I was in despair when I found 
 your cards yesterday." 
 
 " Who was it you met, who knew me ? " asked 
 Maud. , 
 
 Mrs. Darryll mentioned the name. "They 
 said they had not seen you for a long time." 
 
 " No, indeed," replied Maud. " I had no idea 
 they were in England." 
 
 " They are only over for a short time. They 
 live almost entirely at Florence now. It was 
 there I met them, and the girls and I were great 
 friends. But one loses sight of people so, moving
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL. 101 
 
 about constantly, as I have done, and having no 
 settled home." 
 
 " Well, I suppose that is at an end now/' said 
 Maud. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I hope it is ; I feel that my 
 marriage will make a very happy change in my 
 life. I have always longed for a settled home, 
 and a quieter life than I have led ; and I think 
 the priory is so charming. It is the dearest 
 place possible, just the sort of place I have al- 
 ways fancied for a home. By the bye, you had 
 a visit the other day from Guy, had you not ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Maud, " he lunched here the 
 day he came over." 
 
 " So he told me. I had a letter from him this 
 morning ; he says he is not coming over until 
 you report that all the love-making is over. Did 
 you ever hear anything so absurd ? What a deep 
 impression the deanery made upon him, too." 
 
 " So it seems," replied Maud. 
 
 "Well, certainly," said Mrs. Darryll, "there 
 is a charming repose about it. I can imagine it 
 would take Guy's fancy. He is so quickly caught 
 by places." 
 
 " What a surprise you gave all your people at 
 the priory, last week," said Maud. 
 
 " Yes, did we not ? We did it on purpose.
 
 102 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 We knew if we told them we might come on 
 Friday, they would be about ready for us, and I 
 was determined to slip in quietly. I knew there 
 would be sure to be a lot of horrid people at the 
 station, and all about the place, if they knew we 
 were coming ; and it is intolerable to be stared 
 at in that way. And then, though of course they 
 would'nt care the least about me, I thought it 
 was very likely, for Edgar's sake, some of his 
 people would want to give me a sort of reception, 
 so I was determined to avoid it." 
 
 " I have no doubt a great many of the 
 idlers of Stowminster were rather disappointed," 
 said Maud. '' They calculated on seeing you 
 arrive/' 
 
 " I don't doubt they were, nor do I care the 
 least. Of course, if the priory had been a 
 county place, one must have put up with an 
 ovation from the tenantry ; but I have no idea 
 of being victimised for the benefit of a place like 
 this. But do tell me one thing. Miss Yernon. 
 Did I look a dreadful fool on Sunday, in the 
 cathedral ? " 
 
 " You must either feel pretty sure on the 
 subject yourself, or have no great faith in 
 my sincerity, to ask such a question, Mrs. 
 Darryll."
 
 AX UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL. 103 
 
 " No, but really, please do tell me the truth. 
 I really do want to know." 
 
 '* Well, I think I can very truly say No," 
 replied Maud. ** You certainly looked rather 
 nervous, but nothing more. It only gave a 
 slight air of constraint to your manner." 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. I can- 
 not tell you what a state I was in. I should 
 have turned back more than once, if Edgar had 
 not forced me to come on. It was so horrid to 
 know all those people were staring at me. I put 
 on all the old things I could find, on purpose." 
 
 ** I don't think that was very good policy," 
 replied Maud. 
 
 " Why not ,? " 
 
 "Because there was nothing to look at but 
 you, in your plain dress. I think, under the 
 circumstances, you would have done better to 
 have merged a little of your own personality in 
 your most attractive Paris costume." 
 
 " I never thought of it," exclaimed Mrs. Dar- 
 ryll. " I believe you are quite right. How I do 
 wish I could get over that feeling, but I never 
 can. It seems so foolish, and so conceited, too ; 
 but I have such a horrible nervous feeling about 
 being stared at. If any one looks hard at me 
 when I am walking I always fancy something
 
 104 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 has gone wrong with my dress, and am in a per- 
 fect panic directly." 
 
 " It must be very unpleasant," replied Maud. 
 "Fortunately for me, I don't suffer from the 
 complaint." 
 
 " You are fortunate, indeed," said Mrs. Darryll, 
 as she rose to leave. " You don't know what I 
 have suffered since I was married. Edgar got 
 quite cross with me sometimes, because I never 
 could get over the feeling that every one knew 
 I was a bride. He used to say I was always 
 thinking about myself, and that it was so silly ; 
 but how can one help it. Miss Yernon ? I am 
 sure I have tried." 
 
 "I am sure I don't know," replied Maud, 
 thinking of what her father had said about phy- 
 sical and mental health. "I fancy it is very 
 difficult." 
 
 " Ah, Miss Yernon," continued Mrs. Darryll 
 earnestly, " you do not know how much you 
 have to be thankful for, in having been brought 
 up under the care of such a man as the dean." 
 
 " I often think that I hardly know my own 
 advantages." 
 
 "Indeed you do not. Mrs. Ferrol told me 
 how entirely he had kept you in his own care. 
 I daresay I should have been very different, if I
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL. 105 
 
 had had any one to look after me, and check my 
 faults, when I was young. People who envied 
 me as an heiress little knew what a friendless 
 waif and stray I was in reality, even during my 
 poor father's life ; and so all the weeds have been 
 allowed to grow freely. My great fear now," 
 she added, with the tears rising in her eyes, 
 "is, that poor Edgar will have cause to rue 
 it." 
 
 " I think that very dread is likely to prove a 
 safeguard," said Maud, gently. " It is not very 
 difficult to guard against dangers of which we 
 are fully aware." 
 
 " Ah, perhaps not for you," said Mrs. Darryll, 
 smiling through her tears. " But for me, I don't 
 
 know . Dear Miss Vernon," she added, as 
 
 she took Maud's hand in her's, " you must bestow 
 a little compassion on a less highly-favoured 
 sister, and let me gain a little reflected benefit 
 from your own advantages, by helping me to 
 mend, if it is not too late." 
 
 " It is never too late for that," replied Maud. 
 
 " I hope not, indeed, but I don't know," said 
 Mrs. Darryll, shaking her head. " The weeds 
 have had it all their own way for a long time. 
 But, at any rate, I can but try. Good-bye," she 
 continued, bending forward, and kissing Maud's
 
 10 G \\ISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 cheek as she spoke. "You will come and see 
 me soon, will you not ? " 
 
 Maud promised, and Mrs. Darryll departed ; 
 but when the dean, that evening, asked his 
 daughter what she thought of her new neigh- 
 bour now, Maud was little better prepared to 
 answer than when he had asked the same ques- 
 tion on Sunday. 
 
 " You are a very long time in making up your 
 mind on the subject," said her father. " You 
 generally have an opinion to give very soon 
 after making any one's acquaintance. Rather 
 too soon, in my humble opinion, sometimes." 
 
 " Did you ever know me wrong, Mr. Dean ? " 
 asked Maud, with mock solemnity. 
 
 " Madam, my memory is not what it was," 
 replied the dean. 
 
 " A clear case of evasion," said Maud ; " but 
 you know I have strong faith in first impres- 
 sions." 
 
 "What, then, are your first impressions of 
 Mrs. Darryll ? " 
 
 " That is just what I cannot exactly say. Both 
 she and Sir Guy have puzzled and at the same 
 time interested me, more than any people I have 
 seen for a long time. I do, and I don't, like both 
 of them. I think if you had asked me the
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL. 107 
 
 question in the middle of Mrs. Darryll's visit 
 to-day, I should have said I did not like her 
 much. But she spoke so feelingly just as she 
 was leaving, and such a charming expression 
 came over her face, that she quite won my 
 heart." 
 
 " What did she say ? " asked the dean. 
 
 Maud told him, and he laughed heartily. 
 
 " Oh ! ho ! a little bit of flattery stormed the 
 citadel, did it ? " 
 
 " No, indeed it did not, papa. It was the 
 expression of her face, and the deep feeling in 
 her voice, when she spoke of her dread that her 
 husband should suffer for her faults, that attracted 
 me." 
 
 The dean laughed still more heartily. He 
 was rather fond of teasing his daughter a little 
 bit sometimes, so he replied — 
 
 " Then it was a little friendly sympathy with 
 Darryll that did the business, was it ? " 
 
 " You are too bad," said Maud, laughing her- 
 self as she rose to leave the dining-room, "I 
 shall leave you to yourself." 
 
 So she did, and went and sat in the drawing- 
 room window, and fancied she was reading ; but 
 once and again she found that her thoughts had 
 flown to Mrs. Darryll, so at last she gave it up.
 
 108 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 and, closing the book, sat wondering what it 
 was that made her new acquaintance so interest- 
 ing to her, even though she admitted to herself 
 that she did not entirely like her. What was 
 there about both Mrs. Darryll and Sir Guy 
 Rivers, so different from ordinary people, and 
 which seemed to produce a certainly family 
 resemblance between them as well, for Mrs. 
 Darryll had certainly, more than once, reminded 
 her of Sir Guy, even though they were so very 
 different in every respect. Maud's thoughts, 
 however, did not bring any solution of the 
 mystery ; and at last she settled there was 
 nothing to be done but wait until she knew 
 them both better before she formed any decided 
 opinion on the subject. 
 
 She kept her word to Mrs. Darryll, and paid 
 her another visit before long. 
 
 " Oh, how good of you to come," Mrs. Darryll 
 exclaimed, as she entered, " and before luncheon, 
 too, when one is sure to be at home. You must 
 stay and have luncheon with me. Edgar is gone 
 somewhere, I don't know where, and won't be 
 back till late, so I am all alone." 
 
 Maud consented, and spent the greater part of 
 the day at the priory. Certainly Mrs. Darryll 
 improved on better acquaintance.
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL. 109 
 
 " Didn't you think me a horrible bear," she 
 asked, " when I called the other day ?" 
 
 " No, certainly not." 
 
 " I thought you must have done so. I have 
 such a horror of strangers, that I know I am 
 always awkward when I am obliged to meet 
 them. I feel all prickles directly I have to 
 speak to a stranger." 
 
 "I thought you were a little nervous," said 
 Maud. 
 
 " A little ! My dear Miss Yernon, I could hear 
 my own heart beating when I walked into the 
 drawing-room ; but somehow I got over the 
 feeling much sooner than I generally do. I 
 began to feel quite myself before I left. I think 
 there was something infectious about your cool, 
 quiet manner. You looked just the same as if 
 we had been friends for years." 
 
 Maud laughed. " What will you do when 
 you have to return all those visits ? " she said, 
 pointing to a pile of visiting cards on the 
 table. 
 
 " Oh, don't speak of it. However, Edgar will 
 go with me then, and then I don't care so much. 
 It is so horrid being all alone. By the bye," she 
 said, turning over the heap, " there is one place 
 where Edgar won't go ; and when I said I could
 
 110 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 not bear to go alone, he said he thought you 
 knew the people, and that perhaps you would 
 
 go." 
 
 " Who are they ? " asked Maud. 
 
 "Pm sure I can't remember their name. 
 Where can the card be ? Oh, that is it, Mrs. 
 and Miss Lisle, Atherley Park. Edgar says it is 
 quite thirteen miles from here, and he cannot 
 bear long drives ; so he says I must go by my- 
 self, and he will ride over and leave a card some 
 morning. Will you go with me. Miss Yernon ? 
 it is such a long drive all alone." 
 
 " I am not quite sure whether I can," replied 
 Maud. 
 
 '' Why not ? " asked Mrs. Darryll. 
 
 Maud hesitated a moment, and then said — 
 
 " I hardly like to say anything about it, it 
 seems so like spreading scandal ; but the Lisles 
 are not very much liked^ you know, in the 
 county. Mr. Lisle is a great turf man, and the 
 set of people they have about the house are not 
 very desirable. Mrs. Lisle is an odd sort of 
 woman, and I have always heard Miss Lisle 
 spoken of as being very giddy ; so altogether 
 they are not a very desirable set. I believe 
 Miss Lisle is very beautiful, but I have never 
 seen her.. We. are supposed to know them,
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL. Ill 
 
 but papa has always rather objected to my 
 going there ; and I have not called for a long 
 time." 
 
 " A nice description, certainly," said Mrs. 
 Darryll. 
 
 "Yes, I feel a horrid scandal-monger; but 
 when one is forced to speak at all against people, 
 I think it is better to say the whole truth than 
 only part." 
 
 " Most undoubtedly," replied Mrs. Darryll ; 
 " I cannot tell you what a horror I have of 
 half stories, or anything like inuendoes ; they do 
 such untold mischief. Then I suppose I must go 
 over to this place alone." 
 
 " I will ask papa," Maud replied. " I have to 
 call occasionally, and it would perhaps be just 
 as well I should go with you." 
 
 " How old is Miss Lisle ? " 
 
 "I think she must be about nineteen or 
 twenty. She cannot be more than that. She 
 has been educated in Paris entirely. She only 
 came home about a year ago. I believe she is 
 very fascinating." 
 
 " Is she an only child ? " 
 
 " No, there is a son, but I don't know any- 
 thing about him. He is in the army, and is not 
 much at home."
 
 112 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 Maud broached the subject that evening in the 
 drawing-room — 
 
 " Mrs. Darryll wants me to go and call with 
 her at Atherley Park, papa." 
 
 " At Atherley Park !" repeated the dean, 
 rather gravely. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 *' What makes her want you to go there ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Lisle has called on her, and Mr. Darryll 
 says he will not go, because he hates such long 
 drives ; so she asked me if I would go with her." 
 
 " I do not much like your going there," said 
 the dean ; " more especially now that girl is at 
 home. I hear strange things said about her." 
 
 " She is very young," replied Maud ; " one 
 ought not to be too hard on her." 
 
 ** Humph ! " said the dean, dryly, " she may be 
 young, but she has been educated in a Paris 
 boarding-school, and in one not too carefully 
 selected, I suspect. However, perhaps you had 
 better go. I would rather you went with Mrs. 
 Darryll, than alone. Only mind, Maud, I will 
 not have anything like intimate acquaintance 
 with those people." 
 
 " I don't think you need fear, papa. I don't 
 think Miss Lisle and I are in the least likely to 
 suit each other."
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL. 113 
 
 " I should hope not ; they are a most ob- 
 jectionable family. I remember Mrs. Lisle quite 
 well when we first came to Stowminster. She 
 was very pretty, but a most flighty ill-conducted 
 woman ; and her husband, in his way, was worse." 
 
 " How did you come to know them at all ?" 
 
 " Through an accident abroad, when you were 
 quite a child. I was returning in great haste to 
 England, on business of importance, and the 
 carriage broke down on the road, rendering it 
 apparently impossible I could reach Calais in 
 time to catch the packet, when, just at the mo- 
 ment, these people came up, and were most civil. 
 They took me on with them, and, very good- 
 naturedly, altered some of their own arrange- 
 ments, in order to suit me; so, after that, of 
 course I could not entirely avoid the acquaint- 
 ance, but I have never encouraged it." 
 
 Maud was not sorry she had gained permission 
 to go with Mrs. Darryll. The fame of Miss 
 Lisle's beauty and fascination had reached her, 
 and she felt rather curious to see her. 
 
 It was some little time, however, before they 
 found a fitting opportunity for the visit, and 
 durins: that time the intimacv between Mrs. 
 Darryll and Maud increased rapidly. Mrs. Dar- 
 ryll was clever and enthusiastic, and ready to 
 
 VOT.. T. I
 
 114 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 throw herself, heart and soul, into any employ- 
 ment in which she found Maud was interested ; 
 in all, that is to say, of a lighter nature. In 
 those deeper studies, in which the dean had en- 
 couraged Maud to occupy a part, at least, of her 
 time, she found no companion in Mrs. Darryll. 
 
 "How can you read such dry books?" she 
 asked Maud one day. 
 
 " They are not dry to me," Maud replied. 
 
 "Do you mean to say you understand all 
 this?" 
 
 " Yes, most certainly ; it only requires a little 
 steady thinking to understand it." 
 
 " I dare say," exclaimed Mrs. Darryll, laugh- 
 ing, " and that is just the thing I never could 
 give to anything in my life." 
 
 Maud smiled ; she had already made that dis- 
 covery for herself. 
 
 " You never was taught, I suspect," she said. 
 
 " Never, and certainly don't feel inclined to 
 begin learning now. That is one of my failings, 
 which I do not intend to try and correct. But, 
 Maud, about that visit to Atherley ; will you go 
 to-morrow ?" 
 
 " Yes, if you like," re23lled Maud ; and so it 
 was settled.
 
 CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS. 115 
 
 CHAPTER yi. 
 
 SOME RATHER SUGGESTIVE CONFIDENTIAL 
 COMMUNICATIONS. 
 
 " What a beautiful girl Miss Lisle is ! " exclaimed 
 Mrs. Darryll, as they drove away from Atherley 
 Park ; " don't you think so, Maud ? " 
 
 " Yes, if she had been a picture," replied Maud. 
 
 " "What do you mean ? I never heard a girl 
 say such strange things." 
 
 " I mean what I say, Isabel." 
 
 " Well, but if she is beautiful as a picture, 
 surely she is the same as a woman." 
 
 " I don't quite think that. She strikes me to 
 be all outside." 
 
 " A novel description," said Mrs. Darryll, 
 laughing. 
 
 " I ought rather, I think, to say," continued 
 Maud, " that she tries to be all outside, without 
 exactly succeeding. If she did, there would be 
 more harmony about licr." 
 
 I 2
 
 116 SOME RATHER SUGGESTIVE 
 
 " Maud Vernon," said Mrs. Darryll, gravely, 
 " I regret to be obliged to say so, but truth com- 
 pels me to state that I think you are a fair 
 candidate for the county lunatic asylum, in con- 
 sequence, I fully believe, of those deep studies, 
 on the subject of which I have before remon- 
 strated." 
 
 " You had better leave me there, then, on the 
 way home ; we can easily drive round by it." 
 
 " Yery well ; but in the mean time, if you can, 
 explain what you mean about Miss Lisle." 
 
 " I mean that I think she looks so utterly arti- 
 ficial. The very expression of her face and her 
 manner seem to me to be carefully * put on ; ' and 
 I could quite fancy their being changed, not 
 only to suit an occasion, but even to suit a fresh 
 costume." 
 
 " Charitable, certainly." 
 
 " Charity has nothing to do with it, Isabel. I 
 am simply giving you my opinion of an entire 
 stranger. I may be wrong ; time will show." 
 
 " You are prejudiced by what you have heard." 
 
 " I think not," replied Maud, " for Miss Lisle 
 is very different from what I expected ; and it is 
 that very fact that makes me think her so utterly 
 artificial. Without Tbelieving half the things that 
 I have heard about her, I do know of undoubted
 
 CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIOXS. 117 
 
 facts respecting her proceedings, which are so 
 entirely inconsistent with that artless child-like 
 manner and air of simplicity with which she 
 received us this morning, that I could not help 
 thinking, at the moment, that both were assumed 
 to suit her very simple morning dress." 
 
 " Well, I think she is very charming," said 
 Mrs. Darryll, with a slight tone of pique, " and I 
 think you judge her very harshly, Maud. You 
 ought to make some allowance for a girl brought 
 up entirely in Paris." 
 
 " Most undoubtedly I should if I were called 
 upon to pronounce judgment on her for being 
 what she is ; but I was not doing that. I was 
 merely giving an opinion as to what she is, 
 without any regard to her moral responsibilities 
 on the subject.'' 
 
 " I'm sure I don't see where the difference is," 
 replied Mrs. Darryll, "and I don't at all agree 
 with you about Miss Lisle." 
 
 She spoke so sharply that Maud looked at her 
 in some surprise. " My dear Isabel," she said, 
 " I did not know you were so taken by Miss 
 Lisle as to dislike to hear anything said against 
 her." 
 
 " No more I am. But I cannot bear to hear 
 people criticise that way, and fancy they can see
 
 118 SOME RATHER SUGGESTIVE 
 
 right througli a person directly. No one can 
 read another that way." 
 
 " Very well," said Maud, smiling, " we will 
 leave time to disclose Miss Lisle's character, 
 and then we shall see. If I am wrong, you 
 will be able to hold it over me for ever after- 
 wards." 
 
 Maud spoke jestingly, but, in truth, she was 
 rather startled. She had often looked at Mrs. 
 Darryll and thought how much less her face 
 indicated temper than her brother's; but this 
 trifle had brought a sudden look across it that 
 Maud had never seen there before, and it seemed 
 so incomprehensible that remarks on a total 
 stranger should annoy her so much, even if she 
 did think them undeservedly harsh. Maud was 
 perplexed — she could not understand it. 
 
 They drove on in silence for some little time. 
 At last Mrs. Darryll turned suddenly to Maud, 
 and said — 
 
 " Maud, I want to ask you a question ; will 
 you answer it ?" 
 
 " Certainly, in some way or other." 
 
 "And promise not to laugh at me ?" 
 
 " I don t know about that, Isabel ; it depends 
 upon whether you deserve to be laughed at." 
 
 " No : but really, Maud, I know I'm very
 
 CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS. 119 
 
 silly; but I cannot help it. Promise me you 
 won't laugh." 
 
 " I will do my best," replied Maud, seeing that 
 she was really in earnest. 
 
 " Well, you know — the other day — " she said, 
 hesitating, " when you and Edgar first met " 
 
 She stopped and looked sharply at Maud. 
 Undoubtedly she had coloured a little. 
 
 " Shall I finish the sentence ? " said Maud, 
 laughing ; "we both looked rather foolish." 
 
 " Exactly !" said Mrs. Darryll. " I noticed it, 
 and you cannot think " 
 
 She stopped again. Maud was silently shaking 
 with laughter. 
 
 " Now, Maud " 
 
 " My dear Isabel," she gasped, " I only pro- 
 mised to try ; but really it is too much. Do you 
 really mean you have been suffering from an 
 attack of jealousy ?" 
 
 " No, no ! " exclaimed Mrs. Darryll, " it wasn't 
 that ; but I could not quite understand it, and it 
 has been worrying me." 
 
 " Why on earth did you not ask Mr. Darryll 
 about it?" 
 
 " No, I didn't choose to do that," she answered ; 
 '' but what did it mean ? " 
 
 " It meant simply this — that I had not seen
 
 120 SOME RATHER SUGGESTIVE 
 
 Mr. Darryll since a most awkward scene occurred. 
 As you may imagine, there was a report got up 
 about here, when I first came out, that we were 
 engaged, and I was congratulated by a somewhat 
 near-sighted old lady on the event, without her 
 perceiving that Mr. Darryll was, in the room. I 
 had never seen him since till the other day, and 
 the remembrance was rather trying." 
 
 " How very absurd," said Mrs. Darryll. " But 
 do you think me a great fool for noticing it ? " 
 
 " I think that you run a very serious risk, if 
 you allow the slightest feeling of the sort to pass 
 unexplained, where your husband is concerned." 
 
 "Nonsense, Maud, I am not in the least 
 jealous." 
 
 " Jealous or not, it is not safe." 
 
 " I am so glad now that I asked you about it. 
 It has been worrying me ever since, just because 
 I could not understand it. But you must not 
 think that I am jealous ; indeed, it is not that ; 
 but I have been very unfortunate. I have 
 been more than once so thoroughly deceived by 
 people I have trusted, that I have got into a 
 way, I believe, of watching trifles which other 
 people would never notice, just because the 
 truth has come to me through some of those 
 very trifles more than once."
 
 CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS. 121 
 
 " That is very like suspicion, Isabel/' 
 
 " No, indeed ; I am not suspicious naturally, 
 only experience has made me watchful about 
 trifles; even where, as with you, I have no 
 need to be so. You know one can't shake off a 
 habit once acquired. Nothing would ever make 
 me distrust you ; but I always like to ask about 
 anything of the kind that I see. Ah ! Maud, 
 you would only wonder I was not very sus- 
 picious if you knew how terribly I have suffered 
 at the hands of mischief-makers." 
 
 "You must have been very unfortunate in 
 your choice of friends, then." 
 
 " Just because 1 was so ready to trust people 
 who professed to care for me. I always longed 
 so for affection, that I was too ready to trust to 
 any one who seemed to care for me. It is dreadful 
 to have no one to care for ; and oh, so cruel, to 
 find, after you have given your whole heait 
 to some one, that you have been deceived.", 
 
 " But surely you always had your brother to 
 care for ? " 
 
 Mrs. Darryll shook her head with a sigh. 
 "Guy and I used to be great friends, but 
 mischief was made there." 
 
 " What ! between you and your brother ?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; mischief was made between us
 
 122 SOME RATHER SUGGESTIVE 
 
 by designing people, and thougli we are very- 
 good friends now, we can never be what we 
 were before. I could never so entirely trust 
 Guy again." 
 
 "But with what object could any one have 
 attempted such a thing ? " 
 
 " They wanted to separate us, so as to keep 
 me more entirely in their own hands ; and, un- 
 fortunately, it was only too easy, for Guy is 
 weak on that point. He is so ready to listen to 
 what is said. I soon saw what was going on, 
 and tried to prevent it, but it was no use. It 
 was a dreadful trial to me at the time, but I 
 have got over it now." 
 
 Maud did not speak, and Mrs. Darryll con- 
 tinued, after a moment's pause — 
 
 " The same thing happened again soon after, 
 and that was worse at the time. I was engaged, 
 you know, to the brother of a great friend of 
 mine. How glad I am now I did not marry 
 him! I was very fond of the girl, and I really 
 think now that was the only reason I accepted 
 him, though I fancied I cared very much about 
 him. But, Maud, doesn't all this bore you ?" 
 
 " No, go on. I should like to hear it." 
 
 " And you don't think it very wrong of me to 
 talk about it now ? "
 
 CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS. 123 
 
 " Certainly not. I don't think Mr. Darryll 
 would object if lie heard the opinions you 
 express on the subject." 
 
 "I don't know that. I would not tell him 
 about it. I don't think men ever do put full 
 and entire reliance in their wives. I think 
 even the best are a little inclined to be a wee 
 bit jealous sometimes. However, to go on 
 with my story. Alice was delighted about the 
 arrangement at first ; but soon after a cousin 
 came to stay with her, and almost directly I saw 
 a change in her. Then they took to whispering 
 together; and several times I caught them 
 evidently talking about me. I very soon began 
 to see a change in Fred too. He was different 
 from what he had been. I watched for a little 
 to see what it all meant, and I very soon saw. 
 Alice wanted her brother, for some reason, to 
 marry this cousin. I suspect she was a de- 
 signing creature, and just made a tool of Alice. 
 At any rate, it was clear enough that Alice was 
 making mischief with Fred ; so the moment 
 I was convinced that he was allowing her to 
 influence him, I quietly broke off the engage- 
 ment. Fred professed great despair then, but 
 I was not to be moved. What chance of happi- 
 ness could I have had with any one so easily
 
 124 SOME RATHER SUGGESTIVE 
 
 led? I could never have thoroughly trusted 
 him." 
 
 '' Did he marry his cousin ?" asked Maud. 
 
 " No, he did not. I suspect some one made 
 mischief there too. I was dreadfully cut up 
 about it at the time, but now, oh how glad 
 I am I did not marry him. I should never 
 have been Edgar's wife, and never known you, 
 Maud, if I had. How little one knows when 
 troubles one thinks so hard to bear come to one, 
 how often they are the greatest blessings. You 
 see," she added with a smile, " my life has not 
 been a very bright one, in spite of the fortune 
 for which I have often been so envied. I would 
 willingly have given it all years ago to have 
 been happy among friends who really loved 
 me." 
 
 "And you have the chance now, without 
 being required to pay so dear a price for it," said 
 Maud smiling. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I am a fortunate woman. I 
 have much to be thankful for. With such a 
 husband as Edgar, and such a friend as you, 
 1 can look forward with confidence to a far 
 happier life than I have ever known yet." 
 
 " Even in spite of a secret understanding 
 between Mr. Darryll and me ?"
 
 COXFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS. 125 
 
 " Now, Maud, that is too bad. You know 
 quite well I never had any suspicion on the 
 subject. I only asked you the question just 
 because my old habit of watchfulness had made 
 me notice it. If I could have done such a thing 
 as suspect you, you may be quite sure I should 
 not have asked you the question. No ! thank 
 heaven, I do know you too well to suspect you. 
 Nothing in tlie world could ever make me do 
 that. Ah ! if I had only known you years ago, 
 what a different life mine would have been." 
 
 The carriage drove up to the priory door 
 as she spoke, and on the steps sat Sir Guy 
 Rivers. 
 
 *' Guy ! " exclaimed Mrs. Darrell. 
 
 " The same, madam ; awaiting your return, 
 with a special view to asking Miss Vernon a 
 question before entering the house." 
 
 " Ask away, then," she replied. 
 
 "Miss Yernon," said Sir Guy, '*I wish to 
 know whether the love-making is all over. 
 I ordered them not to take the saddle off my 
 horse until your return, that I might be guided 
 by your answer before deciding on my future 
 plans. I called at the deanery on my way here, 
 in order to ask you the question, and heard you 
 were out with Isabel. Is the house habitable ?"
 
 126 SOME RATHER SUGGESTIVE 
 
 "How can you talk such nonsense, Guy?" 
 exclaimed his sister. 
 
 " Miss Yernon, I wait your answer." 
 
 "I don't think you need have any fear," 
 Maud answered. 
 
 " Then, Isabel, with your permission, I will be 
 your guest for a few days. I am rather tired of 
 Riverston and solitude, so I came over on spec, 
 don't you see. I told them if I didn't turn up 
 again by six o'clock to send the dogcart over 
 with my portmanteau." 
 
 " You don't deserve to be taken in," said his 
 sister. 
 
 " Then I shall go and ask the dean to take 
 compassion upon me. I couldn't stand Riverston 
 any longer. I have been working like a slave 
 for the last month, and should have had a 
 regular fit of the blues if I had stayed there 
 any longer alone." 
 
 "How are you getting on?" asked Mrs. 
 Darryll. 
 
 " Oh, capitally. You won't know the place 
 in another fortnight. I don't think there is a 
 weed to be seen in the whole of the pleasure 
 grounds, and the house is getting into good 
 order too." 
 
 " Are you getting entirely new furniture ? "
 
 CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS. 127 
 
 " Very nearly/' replied Sir Guy. " There is 
 little enough there that is fit for anything." 
 
 " I shall drive over some day and see what is 
 going on," said his sister. "I cannot fancy 
 Riverston looking anything but gloom itself 
 It always looked as if the shadow of some great 
 calamity rested upon it." 
 
 "Where have you been calling to-day?" 
 asked Sir Guy abruptly. 
 
 " On the Lisles." 
 
 " What ! at Atherley Park ? Did you see 
 them?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And what did you think of the fair Pauline ? " 
 
 "What! Miss Lisle?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " What do you know about her ? Have you 
 seen her ? " 
 
 " No ; but the fame of her goings on has 
 reached quite as far asRiverston. I hear she is 
 a beauty." 
 
 " That she is, most certainly," replied his 
 sister. " I think she is the loveliest girl I have 
 seen for a long time, and very fascinating. I 
 don't believe half the stories that are afloat 
 about her. I have no doubt a great many of 
 them are owing to her having been so much in
 
 128 SOME RATHER SUGGESTIVE 
 
 Paris, and having a certain amount of Frencli 
 ease about her, which, I don't doubt, has offended 
 the county propriety, as much as her beauty has 
 excited the county jealousy. Even Maud here 
 joins in the outcry against her." 
 
 " Do you, Miss Yernon ? " asked Sir Guy. 
 
 " I certainly do not like her," Maud replied. 
 " She seems to me so thoroughly artificial." 
 
 " She said most horribly ill-natured things of 
 her, as we drove home/' said Mrs. Darryll. 
 
 " Oh, let me hear them ! " exclaimed Sir Guy. 
 " Miss Yernon becoming ill-natured ! I should 
 think the remarks had been rather caustic." 
 
 " I am not given to talking scandal," replied 
 Maud. " Isabel asked for my opinion, and I 
 gave it. If you want to know what Miss Lisle 
 is like, you had better go over there and find 
 out for yourself." 
 
 " And you will think her a very fascinating 
 girl, if you do, I know," said his sister. " But 
 Guy, I want to know about Riverston. Are 
 you going to have all mamma's suite of rooms 
 done up again ? " 
 
 " No," was the abrupt answer. 
 
 " Well, I do think it is great folly. You are 
 wasting by far the nicest rooms in the whole 
 house. I have so often thought what nice rooms
 
 COXFIDENTIAL COMMUXICATIOXS. 1 29 
 
 they would make, if they were only modernised 
 and made habitable. If I were in your place, I 
 would " 
 
 " Do a great deal that I don't choose to do, I 
 have no doubt," broke in Sir Guy, angrily ; " but 
 as I am master at Riverston, I mean to do what 
 I please there. Confound it," he continued, 
 " there's my horse standing all this time with 
 the saddle on," and he jumped up, and walked 
 off with rapid strides towards the stables, fiercely 
 switching off roses with his riding-whip as he 
 went. 
 
 Mrs. Darryll stood looking after him, for a 
 few moments, and then said — 
 
 "What ridiculous nonsense it is of Guy, to 
 refuse to have those rooms touched." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Maud. 
 
 "Because he cannot remember mamma, the 
 least. It is just a piece of morbid sentimen- 
 tality." 
 
 " I don't quite agree with you there, Isabel. 
 There was something so tragical about Lady 
 Clara Rivers' death, that I do not wonder it 
 should have made a deep impression on Sir Guy." 
 
 " Well, I'm sure I cannot see any cause. I 
 should never have dreamed of such sentimen- 
 tality. I never could realise that I ever had a 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 SOME RATHER SUGGESTIVE 
 
 mother at all, but Guy always was wonderfully 
 romantic. You are not going, surely?" she 
 added, as Maud rose from the step on which she 
 had been sitting. " Do stay, and dine here." 
 
 " No, not to-day. Papa will expect me to be 
 home for dinner. Good-bye." 
 
 Maud had not gone far before Sir Guy over- 
 took her. He looked still rather ruffled. 
 
 "You are not going away, surely, Miss 
 Terijon ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I am," answered Maud. 
 
 " How provoking ! " exclaimed Sir Guy. " I 
 made sure you would have dined at the priory." 
 He walked on beside her in silence, for a short 
 time, and then suddenly said — 
 
 "Is it not extraordinary that people cannot 
 leave one to do as one pleases in this world, and 
 never can understand any one feeling differently 
 from what they do themselves ? " 
 
 Maud was at no loss as to what feeling was in 
 Sir Guy's mind, and she answered with a smile — 
 
 " Don't you think it quite as extraordinary 
 that small angles should produce so much irri- 
 tation ? " 
 
 " No, Miss Vernon, " that's not fair. It is 
 not such a small angle as you suppose. Isabel 
 knows, perfectly well, that T have a feeling
 
 CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS. 131 
 
 almost amounting to horror, at the thought of 
 ahering in any way the rooms that were my 
 mother's; and yet she is always dragging up 
 the subject, and treating my objections as ro- 
 mantic folly. It is the constant repetition of 
 her attacks on the subject that has made me 
 irritable about it. Do you think it a very 
 ridiculous feeling ? " 
 
 " Certainly not. I think, in fact I feel cer- 
 tain, in your place I should do the same." 
 
 '' Would you really ? Well, you are the last 
 person from whom I should have expected so 
 much romance." 
 
 " Did you think I was so very prosaic 
 then ? " 
 
 " No, not exactly ; I could see you understood 
 these feelings. I felt it from the moment I first 
 saw you ; but I did not think you shared them. 
 I fancied it was merely that you had depth 
 enough to understand feelings in others that you 
 did not share." 
 
 " Ah, well ! you see we are getting better 
 acquainted. I did not know you had set me 
 down as ' a faultless monster ! ' " 
 
 -" No^ more I had ; but to tell the truth, I was 
 rather struck with the difference between you 
 and my fair sister, who is a good creature in her 
 
 K 2
 
 132 SOME RATHER SUGGESTIVE 
 
 way, but always 'sees everything in her own 
 colours." 
 
 " Come, I am not going to let you say ill- 
 natured things of her ; nor go any further, or 
 you will be late for dinner." 
 
 '' Let me go on as far as the deanery grounds, 
 with you." 
 
 '^ No, no further ; good-bye." 
 
 She held out her hand as she spoke, and Sir 
 Guy obeyed, and turned back towards the 
 23riory. 
 
 Maud walked slowly on, deep in thought. 
 She was beginning to have a strong impression 
 that her acquaintance with Mrs. Darryll would 
 cause her some trouble. Their feelings were 
 by no means mutual. Maud had a strong ob- 
 jection to sudden and romantic attachments, and 
 always eyed them with suspicion, while' it was 
 evident that Mrs. Darryll was rather subject to 
 such attacks. Her confidences during their home- 
 ward drive, too, had rather disturbed Maud's 
 serenity, for she could not help seeing that 
 either Mrs. Darryll had been very unfortunate, 
 or that there must be a very different " other 
 side" to these stories. Nor was it possible to 
 doubt, even making all allowance for the attrac- 
 tion Miss Rivers' large fortune must have
 
 CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS. 133 
 
 proved to birds of prey, both male and female, 
 that she had either acquired in consequence, or 
 been endowed by nature, with certain mental 
 tendencies rather calculated to disturb the tran- 
 quillity of any frieadships she might form ; and 
 also, Maud could not help feeling, likely to 
 endanger her matrimonial happiness, unless 
 fortune favoured her most wonderfully. Alto- 
 gether Maud felt considerably puzzled by her 
 new friend, so contradictory on some points to 
 what she seemed on others, and wondered again 
 why it was that, while she was so totally unlike 
 her brother, there yet seemed such a strange 
 similarity in some respects between them ; and 
 what it was made them both strike her as differ- 
 ent from any one she had ever known before. 
 She was considering the subject so deeply, that 
 she passed quite unconsciously through the little 
 gate which led from the priory park into the 
 deanery grounds, and was suddenly startled 
 from her reverie, by a voice exclaiming — 
 
 " Bless me. Miss Maud ! are you going to run 
 over me ? " 
 
 Maud started, and found herself on the lawn, 
 and close to her father and old Dr. Marsh, who 
 were standing talking there. 
 
 Dr. Marsh was quite one of the permanent
 
 134 SOME RATHER SUGGESTIVE 
 
 institutions of Stowminster and the neighbour- 
 hood. He had had the Ijest practice in the whole 
 county, and from the time, now more than fifty 
 years ago, that he had settled in Stowminster 
 as a young surgeon, he had been a universal 
 favourite with both rich and poor. He had 
 made a handsome fortune, and retired some 
 years since ; nominally, at least, though, among 
 the poor, he still practised considerably, and was 
 always a welcome guest wherever he appeared, 
 or in whatever capacity. Thanks to a strong 
 constitution, temperate habits, and a cheerful 
 disposition, he carried his eighty years of life 
 more lightly than many men carry sixty. Maud 
 Vernon was a special favourite with him. He 
 had known her from her birth, and had watched 
 with deep interest the results of the dean's edu- 
 cational system ; daring to prophesy, in defiance 
 of all Stowminster, both male and female, that it 
 would prove successful ; and he now rested in all 
 the conscious triumph of a prophecy fulfilled. 
 
 " Here's a case of a waking dream, or were 
 you really walking in your sleep ? " he said. 
 
 " I really am not quite sure," she answered. 
 ** I certainly had not the slightest idea where I 
 was." 
 
 " Where have you been ? " asked the dean.
 
 CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS. 135 
 
 " Isabel and I have been to call at Atherley 
 Park, papa." 
 
 "Humj)li!" said the dean. *' Did you find 
 them at home ? " 
 
 " Mrs. and Miss Lisle were at home." 
 
 " What did you think of them ? " 
 
 " I do not at all like either," replied Maud. 
 " In fact, Isabel has been scolding me ever since 
 for being so uncharitable in my judgments." 
 
 " I doubt your being in the least likely to go be- 
 yond the mark, as far as Miss Lisle is concerned," 
 rej)lied the dean. " What say you, Doctor ? " 
 
 Doctor Marsh shook his head. " She's her 
 mother's child," he answered, "only far more 
 beautiful than she ever was, and with the ad- 
 vantage of a Paris education. But the dean 
 tells me," he added, turning to Maud, " that you 
 and Mrs. Darryll are great friends ; tell me what 
 she is like, for I positively have not seen either 
 her or Sir Guy since they were little children, 
 and I am much interested in them both." 
 
 " She is tall and dark, and certainly very 
 handsome," replied Maud. " But is there not a 
 picture, at Eiverston, of Lady Bellingham, her 
 grandmother ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Dr. Marsh, " but what has that 
 to do with it ? "
 
 136 SOME RATHER SUGaESTIVE 
 
 " Why, if you have seen that, you have a 
 good idea, I fancy, of what Isabel is like, for 
 Sir Guy told me that people who knew Lady 
 Bellingham say Isabel is very like her." 
 
 " Terrible ! " said Doctor Marsh, in a low 
 tone, as if speaking to himself. 
 
 " Terrible ! " repeated Maud. " Why ? " 
 
 " I I meant to say unfortunate," 
 
 hastily replied Doctor Marsh, "for I believe 
 Lady Bellingham was a woman of very violent 
 temper. Do you think Mrs. Darryll has inherited 
 that with the likeness ? " 
 
 Maud hesitated a moment, and Doctor Marsh 
 watched her face closely. 
 
 '* I cannot quite make her out," she replied. 
 " Sometimes I fancy I like her very much, and 
 at other times there is something about her I 
 don't quite like. I have seen a look cross her 
 face which has made me think she might be 
 rather violent if roused. But she is very gene- 
 rous and very enthusiastic." 
 
 " And has taken a violent fancy to you, I 
 suspect, has she not ? " asked the dean. 
 
 " Yes, I believe she has," replied Maud, in 
 such a rueful tone, that both the dean and 
 Doctor Marsh fairly laughed. 
 
 " That is one feminine propensity which your
 
 CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS. 137 
 
 system seems to have strangled, Mr. Dean," said 
 Doctor Marsh. 
 
 " Now, Doctor," said Maud, " I won't have 
 you speak in that disrespectful way." 
 
 ** My dear Miss Maud, you quite misunder- 
 stand me. Don't you see, I think women so 
 near perfection that I rejoice in the removal of 
 those one or two little weaknesses which are 
 all that prevent them being angels at once." 
 
 " It is fortunate they have some small fail- 
 ings," she answered, " to prevent the discrepancy 
 between the sexes being quite so startling." 
 
 *' Ah ! I think we will return to our first 
 subject," said Doctor Marsh ; " when Miss 
 Vernon takes up that tone, it behoves one to 
 give up the field. Is Sir Guy Eivers like his 
 sister ? " 
 
 " Not the least," exclaimed Maud, energeti- 
 cally, "I never saw a brother and sister so 
 diiferent." 
 
 Again Dr. Marsh looked closely at her. " In 
 what way do you mean ; in appearance, or in 
 character ? " 
 
 " In appearance," she replied, " and, I think, 
 in character too ; though I am not quite so sure 
 about that. They are very different there too, 
 and yet there is something like. But in appear-
 
 138 SOME RATHER SUGGESTIVE 
 
 anoe they are very diiFerent. Sir Guy is like 
 his mother." 
 
 ^' How do you know ? " asked Doctor Marsh, 
 sharply. 
 
 " Because he showed me her likeness," replied 
 Maud, " and it is exactly like himself." 
 
 " What made him show it to you ? " said 
 Doctor Marsh, scanning her face closely. 
 
 Maud caught the look, and returned it with 
 one firm and steady, and with just the faintest 
 mingling of scorn, as she answered calmly — 
 " Sir Gruy Rivers showed me his mother's like- 
 ness the first time we ever met. He spoke of 
 her in accounting for Riverston having been 
 so entirely neglected. He seems to cherish her 
 memory most fondly." 
 
 " And very like her, is he ? " said Doctor 
 Marsh. " Poor fellow ! Ah, she was a lovely 
 creature." 
 
 '' Did you know her ? " asked Maud. 
 
 '^ Perfectly well. I used to attend her. Her 
 death was too horrible." 
 
 " What were the particulars ? " asked the 
 dean. " I never heard more than that it was 
 an accident while riding. Her. horse ran away, 
 did he not ? " 
 
 " It was said so," replied Doctor Marsh, " but
 
 CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS. 139 
 
 no one seems to know exactly what did happen. 
 It was out hunting it happened, and the only 
 person near at the moment was one of the 
 officers quartered here, and he went off to 
 London the next day. Sir Rupert never seemed 
 to care to ask any questions ; but several people 
 had noticed that she was going at a frightful 
 pace before, and expected to see her ride the 
 hounds off the scent." 
 
 " But what happened ? " asked Maud. " Did 
 the horse fall ? " 
 
 " He went at a hedge that no mortal horse 
 could clear, and fell on the top of her the other 
 side." 
 
 Maud shuddered. " How horrible ! " she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " Horrible ! " repeated Doctor Marsh. " I've 
 seen a good many horrible sights in my life, 
 but I never saw one like that before or since. 
 Thanks to the heroism of Mrs. Feversham, poor 
 Sir Rupert never knew how frightfully crushed 
 she was, for, strangely enough, her head and 
 face were the least injured, and Mrs. Feversham 
 had the courage to see her laid out, and all stains 
 removed, before Sir Rupert saw her. But no 
 one knows what it cost her; she did not get 
 over the shock for months."
 
 140 SOME RATHER SUGGESTIVE 
 
 ** Was not Lady Clara very excitable ? " asked 
 Maud. 
 
 " Yery," replied Doctor Marsh. 
 
 " Then why did Sir Eupert allow her to hunt ? " 
 
 " Why did the dean let you call on Miss Lisle 
 to-day ? " asked Doctor Marsh. 
 
 " Because he could not well help it," replied 
 Maud. 
 
 " Exactly," said Doctor Marsh ; " and so, when 
 men choose to marry beautiful girls, more 
 than twenty years younger than themselves, 
 they very often find they have to allow things 
 they don't like for the same reason." 
 
 " I thought Sir Rupert Rivers was a very 
 determined man." 
 
 " So he was, and a most unfortunate one as 
 well." 
 
 " How he must have reproached himself after- 
 wards for having let her go," said Maud. " No 
 wonder he never could bear Riverston after- 
 wards." 
 
 " I don't think self-reproach kept him away," 
 said Doctor Marsh, " and I do not think, myself, 
 he had cause for any." 
 
 " Not cause for self-reproach," exclaimed 
 Maud, ^' after having allowed Lady Clara to 
 hunt, and then seen the results ? "
 
 COXFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS. 141 
 
 " It is hard to judge for other people," replied 
 Doctor Marsh, " but I don't think, myself, he 
 could have done otherwise." 
 
 Maud seemed doubtful, but did not pursue the 
 subject ; and soon after went in. 
 
 " What do you think of this young fellow 
 Rivers, Mr. Dean ? " Doctor Marsh asked. 
 
 " I like the little I have seen of him, but it 
 has been very little. He has a very attractive 
 manner, and is, I should think, clever. Maud's 
 idea of him was that he would be much what 
 those about him made him." 
 
 '' Just what I feared," said Doctor Marsh ; 
 "just exactly what I feared. I am afraid he is 
 terribly excitable, and very easily led. I always 
 thought it would be so." 
 
 " I thought you did not know anything about 
 him," said the dean. 
 
 " No more I do ; but the fact is, my 
 
 thoughts had gone suddenly back a great many 
 years. It is very fortunate he gave up all idea 
 of the army. I heard some years since he was 
 thinking of that ; it would never have done. I 
 do hope now he will go on well, if he only set- 
 tles quietly down at Riverston. He ought to 
 have a good, steady, sensible wife. A girl just
 
 142 SOME RATHER SUGGESTIVE 
 
 like your child, Mr. Dean ; but, mind, not her, 
 not her, on any account." 
 
 The dean laughed. " Time enough to think 
 about that, when he shows signs of wishing 
 it." 
 
 " It's not to be thought of for a moment," 
 continued the old man, "though he is the best 
 match in the county. She is too good for him ; 
 she is too good for any man that ever was born 
 I believe," he continued energetically. 
 
 "You seem to rate her highly," replied the 
 dean, much amused. He knew Maud was a very 
 weak point with the old doctor. 
 
 " Not beyond her merits, Mr. Dean, not one 
 shade beyond her merits. I have known her 
 from her cradle, and I venture to say that a 
 finer disposition never lived. No one knows 
 the full value of her character, nor ever will 
 know, unless — which Grod forbid ! " he added 
 gravely, " it is brought out by fire." 
 
 " I am not quite sure I should echo your 
 prayer," said the dean, " even for my own child. 
 The fire that produces such an effect is worth 
 passing through, for the sake of the fruits it 
 yields afterwards." 
 
 Doctor Marsh did not answer for a moment.
 
 CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS. 143 
 
 he seemed lost in thought. Then he said rather 
 abruptly — 
 
 " Mr. Dean, I am going to make rather a 
 strange request, and one which I fear you may, 
 perhaps, feel inclined to resent, as I can give no 
 reason for it ; but I think you have known me 
 long enough to know I am not given to imper- 
 tinent interference in other people's affairs." 
 
 " I don't think you are very likely to ask any- 
 thing I am not likely to grant," replied the dean. 
 What is it ? A sermon in the cathedral for a 
 pet charity ? " 
 
 , " No, no ; nothing of the kind ; something 
 connected with your own family. I want to ask 
 you to promise me that, should you see any 
 signs, however shght, leading you to think it 
 possible that Sir Gruy Rivers has any partiality 
 for your daughter, you will let me know ; and 
 trust to my being then able to give you reasons 
 which will show you this is no impertinent inter- 
 ference in what does not concern me." 
 
 *' Most undoubtedly, my good friend. I will 
 make the promise with the utmost pleasure. 
 Not, however, that I expect to be called upon to 
 fulfil it. I should doubt Maud being likely to 
 attract Sir Guy, I think he would want some- 
 thing more brilliant. If she is right in her esti-
 
 144 SOME RATHER SUGGESTIVE 
 
 mate of his character, I expect to see him fall a 
 victim to the charms of the fair Miss Lisle. I 
 do not doubt the toils will be set, both by mother 
 and daughter, for him forthwith." 
 
 '' Well, I don't know," replied Doctor Marsh, 
 thoughtfully ; "" perhaps I am misled by my 
 partiality, but I cannot imagine any young man 
 seeing Maud and not loving her." 
 
 " Ah^ you see the opinions of young men on 
 these points, my good friend, are apt to be 
 very different from those of octogenarians like 
 ourselves." 
 
 '' Precisely," replied Doctor Marsh, " and 
 precious lucky it would be for the young ones if 
 it were not quite so true. But you will not 
 forget your promise, Mr. Dean." 
 
 " Assuredly not. You shall be duly informed 
 whenever I think the citadel in danger." 
 
 " Thank you ! thank you ! a thousand times,** 
 exclaimed Doctor Marsh. "That is a great 
 relief to my mind." 
 
 " I am delighted to hear it," replied the dean, 
 laughing, "though, wherefore, I must admit 
 I am at a loss to comprehend." 
 
 " You won't be whenever the time comes for 
 the fulfilment of your promise, should it ever do 
 so," replied Doctor Marsh, as they walked
 
 CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS. 145 
 
 slowly towards tlie gates leading into the 
 Close. 
 
 " What on earth can be the object of suoh a 
 strange request ? " thought the dean as he walked 
 back to the house, after parting from Doctor 
 Marsh. The only possible solution of the 
 mystery to him, was, that probably Doctor 
 Marsh was aware of some juvenile delinquencies 
 of Sir Guy Rivers, which he did not choose to 
 publish without good cause ; and satisfying 
 himself that Maud was a very unlikely girl 
 to catch the fancy of such a man as Sir Guy 
 Rivers, he dismissed the subject from his 
 mind. 
 
 VOL. T.
 
 146 PAULINE LISLE 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 PAULINE LISLE BECOMES VERY THOUGHTFUL. 
 
 Pauline Lisle stood for some little time at the 
 hall door, after Mrs. Darryll and Maud had left, 
 silently watching the carriage as it drove down 
 the long chestnut avenue. The light was 
 strong, but she did not mind that ; perhaps had 
 rather enjoyed the opportunity of showing the 
 visitors, as they settled themselves in the car- 
 riage, that the rose-coloured tarlatan, so judi- 
 ciously arranged about the drawing-room 
 windows, bore reference to Mrs. Lisle's fading 
 charms, and not to her own complexion. Then 
 she went slowly back to the drawing-room, but 
 found it empty ; Mrs. Lisle was gone, so taking 
 a piece of embroidery Pauline seated herself in 
 a low easy chair, and did about three stitches. 
 Then the work dropped idly on her lap, and she 
 sat vacantly gazing out of the window, with her
 
 BECOMES VERY THOUGHTFUL. 147 
 
 head leaning back against the cushions of the 
 chair, lost in a deep reverie. 
 
 Mrs. Darryll was quite right, Pauline Lisle 
 was a very beautiful girl ; beautiful enough, if 
 she would only have believed it, to have trusted 
 more to nature. She was small, but beautifully 
 formed, with a complexion well able to stand 
 the full sunlight of a cloudless July day, and an 
 immense quantity of soft dark hair. Her 
 features were delicately chiselled, and her eyes 
 a clear dark grey. When she did open them to 
 the full they were very large, but that was not 
 often ; the lids drooped considerably by nature, 
 and rather looked as if they had been trained, 
 by art, to do so still more ; until they seemed 
 more to conceal, than merely to shade the eyes, 
 an appearance increased by the long thick dark 
 lashes. They were very soft, and yet did not 
 convey to the beholder the impression of the 
 dove exactly. In fact the mention of the dove 
 in connection with Pauline Lisle's eyes \\ould 
 possibly have suggested the remembrance of 
 another animal, whose name, at least^ is fre- 
 quently associated therewith. 
 
 But if Mrs. Darryll was right in her remarks 
 about her beauty, Maud was no less so in her 
 strictures upon her artificial appearance. Her 
 
 L 2
 
 148 PAULINE LISLE 
 
 very attitude of complete repose, as she lay back 
 in the easy chair, had something studied about 
 it ; as if, by long habit, art had become so 
 completely nature that even in solitude it did 
 not forsake her. The perfect simplicity of her 
 plain print morning dress, and few but effective 
 ornaments, left the same impression on the 
 mind. From head to foot she was, in dress, and 
 everything else, a beautiful piece of acting, but 
 still it was acting. And Maud was not wrong 
 in suspecting that for a different, and more 
 elaborate costume, she would have found a 
 different manner. 
 
 And yet the girl was not, by nature, either 
 better or worse than others of her fellow 
 creatures. She was but what her training had 
 made her. What her mother would have been 
 before her, too, had she had the same training. 
 Mrs. Lisle's social position was such that it was 
 considered rather " a catch " when she suc- 
 ceeded in establishing herself at Atherley Park ; 
 even though Mr. Lisle's character did not stand 
 very high in the county ; in which, however, he 
 was less known than at Newmarket. The 
 dean's strictures on Mrs. Lisle's proceedings, as 
 a young woman, were not overdrawn ; and, in 
 consequence, the Lisles were slightly black-
 
 BECOMES VERY THOUGHTFUL. 149 
 
 balled in the county ; though, of late years, 
 since Mrs. Lisle had grown older and somewhat 
 more discreet, the magnates had slightly relaxed 
 their severity. Pauline, and one son, were 
 their only children. Harry Lisle had been 
 allowed " to grow." Not so Pauline, she had 
 been carefully *,' reared." From her earhest 
 infancy Mr. Lisle had told his wife she must 
 provide for her daughter. The property was 
 entailed, so Harry was provided for ; but not a 
 farthing, he coolly told his wife, would there be 
 for his daughter. ' She need not expect it. The 
 girl might have as expensive an education as 
 her mother chose, and then, between them, they 
 must manage to settle her in life. Mrs. Lisle, 
 like a dutiful wife, set to work with a will at 
 the task imposed upon her ; and, from the time 
 she could understand anything, Pauline had 
 been carefully taught to understand that she 
 must look to her own and her mother s exer- 
 tions for a settlement in life ; that beyond her 
 expensive education she had nothing to expect 
 from her father. 
 
 She had been at school in London until she 
 was fourteen, and then a brilliant idea presented 
 itself to Mrs. Lisle. Why not send her for a 
 few years to Paris to be finished? The plan
 
 150 PAULINE LISLE 
 
 was instantly adopted, as it presented more than 
 one advantage. It was too far for Pauline to 
 come home more than once in the year, which 
 rather suited Mrs. Lisle, who flattered herself 
 she was still a very young looking woman, and 
 had, therefore, no objection to Pauline being as 
 much away as possible ; and it would also be an 
 immense advantage to Pauline's ultimate pros- 
 pects in life. 
 
 So to Paris Pauline went, and there, thanks 
 to that idea of Mrs. Lisle's about her own juve- 
 nile appearance, she remained until she was fully 
 nineteen. Then she came home, and " finished " 
 she was, with a vengeance. 
 
 " Stand up, and let me look at you, child," 
 was her father's salutation, the first time he saw 
 her after her return home. 
 
 Pauline laughingly obeyed, and her father sur- 
 veyed her much as he might have done a horse 
 he meant to back heavily. 
 
 " Very good," he said, approvingly. " You'll 
 do. With that face and figure, and your mother's 
 wits to help you, you are better off than many a 
 girl with a fortune." 
 
 That was Pauline Lisle's welcome home. The 
 first thing upon which Mrs. Lisle decided was, 
 that a season in London must be achieved, for
 
 BECOMES VERY THOUGHTFUL. 151 
 
 Pauline's advantage ; and she carried her point, 
 in spite of many protestations on her husband's 
 part. It was true, her prospects in London were 
 not very brilliant, but Mrs. Lisle knew the mo- 
 . ment was a singularly propitious one. A general 
 election was confidently anticipated before long ; 
 and she knew that Mr. Lisle's support was too 
 valuable, in that case, not to open the doors of 
 the member's town house to her freely. The 
 season was as successful as Mrs. Lisle could have 
 expected. She was a clever, as well as an am- 
 bitious woman, and succeeded in pushing her 
 way very adroitly. At a ball at the member's 
 house, one night, Pauline saw both Sir Guy 
 Kivers and his sister, and heard of Miss Eivers' 
 intended marriage to Edgar Darryll. 
 
 " Isn't Riverston in your part of the world ? " 
 asked her partner. ^ ahh^uA t^iulm' 
 .,\ **Yes," replied Pauline. "That is to say, it 
 is about twenty miles from Atherley." 
 
 " Ah, well, you'll have a little gaiety down 
 there soon, I fancy," was the answer. " I've 
 just been talking to Rivers, and he says, as soon 
 as his sister is settled, he's going to live at Ri- 
 verston, and have the place all done up. Going 
 to do model landlord, in fact, and all that kind
 
 152 PAULINE LISLE 
 
 of thing. Have you ever been at Riverston, 
 Miss Lisle ? " 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " No, really ? I wonder at that. It's a fine 
 old place, but awfully dull, I should think. I 
 went down there for a few days' shooting once, 
 and I never saw such a place, and in such utter 
 ruin. I declare I'm sure it would take six 
 months' hard work to get it into anything like 
 order. I know I would'nt live there for some- 
 thing." 
 
 " I like the country," said Pauline, very 
 gravely. 
 
 " No, you don't really mean it ! and you have 
 been so much in Paris ? " 
 
 " I don't like Paris at all," she answered. " I 
 like a quieter life. I am very fond of the 
 country." 
 
 Sir Guy Rivers was standing near, and he 
 turned and looked at her for a moment, but then 
 left the room ; and Pauline went home, rumi- 
 nating on the intelligence she had received. 
 
 Pauline Lisle's reverie in the drawing-room 
 was interrupted by the entrance of her brother ; 
 a heavy, dissipated-looking young fellow, a few 
 years older than herself. The fact that he had
 
 BECOMES VERY THOUGHTFUL. 153 
 
 been allowed to grow, instead of being carefully 
 reared, like his sister, did not seem to have been 
 much advantage to him, beyond that his vices 
 had more of nature about them than existed in 
 any form, either of vice or virtue, in her ; and 
 he had about him a certain amount of honest 
 stupidity, which both Pauline and his mother 
 occasionally found very useful ; though he was 
 not now very much at home, having been in the 
 army for some years. 
 
 " Is that you, Harry ? " asked Pauline, with- 
 out moving. 
 
 " Yes. I say, Lena, who's been here this 
 morning ? " 
 
 " Why do you ask ? '' 
 " That's no answer to my question." 
 " It's all you'll get until you tell me why you 
 ask," replied his sister. 
 
 "Well, I met a carriage just now, turning 
 out of the gates, with two uncommonly jolly- 
 looking girls in it ; and they could'nt, or would'nt, 
 tell me at the lodge who they were." 
 
 "I don't suppose they knew. One of them 
 was Mrs. Darryll — Miss Eivers, you know ; the 
 other was Miss Vernon, the dean of Stowmin- 
 ster's daughter." 
 
 Harry gave a long whistle. "That Mrs.
 
 154 PAULINE LISLE 
 
 Darryll," he said, " and Miss Yernon with her ! 
 Are they great friends, then ? " 
 
 " How on earth should I know ? They came 
 here together, that's all I know about it. Why 
 do you ask ? " 
 
 " Because I wanted to know, that's all. I say, 
 will you come and ride this afternoon, Lena ? " 
 
 " No, certainly not ; it is too hot. I am not 
 going to stir out of the house to-day. But, 
 Harry, do you know that Sir Gruy Rivers is 
 come down to Riverston now ? " y^f* 
 
 ol) " Yes, I know that well enough." {^^ 
 
 " How long has he been there ? " asked Pau- 
 line. 
 
 " Oh, near three months, I should think," 
 replied Captain Lisle. 
 
 " Oh ! Harry, and you have never called upon 
 him." 
 
 r: "No. Why should I? I don't care about 
 seeing him." 
 
 " But you ought to call. There is no getting 
 papa to do anything of the kind, you know ; 
 and mamma and I cannot go and call there, so 
 you ought to do it." 
 
 "Be hanged if I will, then," replied her bro- 
 ther, sulkily. " A nice amusement, indeed ! to 
 ride over there ; twenty miles, if it's one ; and
 
 BECOMES VERY THOUGHTFUL. 155 
 
 probably to find that Sir Guy was out, leave a 
 card, and ride home again." 
 
 ** What nonsense ! you would be nearly sure 
 to find him somewhere about ; and even if you 
 didn't, you could go to the vicarage and have 
 some luncheon with Aunt Wellwood." 
 
 Mr. Wellwood, the vicar of Riverston, was 
 married to an aunt of Mrs. Lisle's. 
 
 " Very pleasant that would be, too ! " said 
 Captain Lisle. " No, thank you, Lena ; if you 
 are so very anxious Sir Guy Rivers should be 
 called upon, you must persuade your father to do 
 it, or even go yourself." -^^^ -^^^^ h'^^--^ "'^^-^ " 
 
 Pauline's face betrayed nothing ; but then, ft 
 never did. She only said, after a moment's 
 pause — ^ 
 
 *'Well, of course you must please yourself, 
 but I think you are very foolish not to cultivate 
 Sir Guy Rivers' acquaintance. Riverston is a 
 capital place to go to in the hunting season." 
 
 " Yes, but Sir Guy's never there." 
 
 "But he will be now. He's going to live 
 there." 
 
 " Is he ? Who told you so ? " 
 
 " Aunt Wellwood. Mamma had a letter from 
 her the other day, telling her all about it, and 
 how glad she and Uncle Wellwood are about it.
 
 156 PAULINE LISLE 
 
 You may depend upon it Eiverston will be a 
 very different place now from what it has been. 
 Sir Gruy is fond of society, he'll have lots of 
 people there." 
 
 " That alters the state of the case," replied 
 Captain Lisle. " If Sir Gruy is really going to 
 live there, I've no objection to go over and call 
 on him some day." 
 
 " I should think you had better try and stand 
 well with him," replied Pauline; "it's not much 
 matter to you now, while you are so much 
 away with your regiment, but it will be of con- 
 sequence to you when you come into the 
 county. Sir Gruy will be the leading man in 
 these parts. You had better talk to mamma 
 about it, and ask him to come over here to 
 dinner some day, and sleep here. One can't ask 
 a man to come twenty miles to dinner without 
 asking him to stay the night at least." 
 
 Captain Lisle agreed that the suggestion was 
 worthy of consideration, and said he would 
 consult his mother on the subject, whereupon 
 the faintest gleam of satisfaction just flitted 
 across his sister's face, and she resigned herself 
 to idleness and contemplation again. 
 
 "I say, Pauline," said her brother^ after a 
 short silence, " I wonder if Mrs. Darryll would
 
 BECOMES VERY THOUGHTFUL. 157 
 
 be so thick with Miss Yernon, if she knew how 
 spoony Darryll used to be about her ?" 
 
 Pauline opened her eyes wide enough now. 
 " You don't really mean that, do you ? " 
 
 " Don't I though. There was a report about 
 that they were engaged, but I don't believe 
 that; but people do say she refused him. I 
 know he was very sore about it, for I tried 
 chaffing him one day, and found I must leave it 
 alone." 
 
 " How long ago was that ? " asked his sister. 
 
 " Oh, ever so long ago. I'm sure I don't 
 remember how long. Very soon after Miss 
 Yernon came out." 
 
 "Are you quite sure about it ? " 
 
 *' Yes, of course. Why, surely you must have 
 heard about it." 
 
 " No, indeed, I never heard of anything of the 
 kind. I was away in Paris, you know, and 
 mamma never mentioned it." 
 
 " No, I daresay not. I don't think the people 
 down here knew much about it generally ; at 
 least as far as I know. It was up in London 
 that I heard it talked about." 
 
 He sauntered out of the room as he spoke, and 
 very soon after Mrs. Lisle came in. 
 
 " Mamma," said Pauline, " did you ever hear
 
 158 PAULINE LISLE 
 
 a report that Mr. Darryll was engaged to Miss 
 Yernon ? " 
 
 "No — yes — I'm sure I don't remember," 
 replied Mrs. Lisle. " I'm not sure some report 
 did not reach the county, when they were both 
 up in London ; but I am quite sure there was 
 no truth in it." 
 
 " Do you think she refused him, then ? " 
 
 *' I'm sure I don't know, but I think it was 
 much more likely it was a scandal altogether. 
 I'm quite sure no one believed the story. It 
 was just got up because the deanery and the 
 priory were so close together." 
 
 " I wonder if Mrs. Darryll knows about it ? " 
 said Pauline. 
 
 " Most Hkely," replied her mother. " What 
 made you think about it ?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing. Don't you like Mrs. Darryll, 
 mamma ? " 
 
 " Yes, very much." 
 
 " I wish the priory was not so far oflf," said 
 Pauline. " It is so dull here. If it was only a 
 little closer I should have a chance of seeing her 
 sometimes." 
 
 ** It's not a bit too far for you to ride over 
 whenever you like." 
 
 " No, but I have no excuse for going, and no
 
 BECOMES VERY THOUGHTFUL. 159 
 
 chance of making any better acquaintance to 
 give me one. I do wish there was some one 
 here worth speaking to.' It is horribly dull 
 after being accustomed to Paris." 
 
 "Til find an excuse for going over there 
 again, if you care to go," said her mother. 
 
 " I wish you would, mamma. I have really 
 rather a fancy to see more of Mrs. Darryll." 
 
 There was a sort of silent understanding 
 between mother and daughter ; they never 
 openly discussed Pauline's prospects, but Mrs. 
 Lisle perfectly understood, when Pauline pressed 
 her the least on any point connected with 
 acquaintances, that she did not do it for nothing, 
 nor was it in this case very diJBficult for her to 
 divine the workings of her daughter's mind. 
 
 A few days afterwards Mrs. Lisle looked into 
 the drawing-room one morning with the ques- 
 tion — 
 
 " What are you going to do this afternoon, 
 Pauline?" 
 
 " Anything you like, mamma." 
 
 "Then you had better go with me. I am 
 going into Stowminster, and shall call at the 
 priory on my way." 
 
 " What, call so soon again," said Pauline. 
 
 " Yes, my dear. I want Mr. and Mrs. Darryll to
 
 160 PAULINE LISLE 
 
 dine here, and as the nights are so dark just now, 
 and it is a long drive, I shall ask them to stay all 
 night. It is to settle about that that I mean to 
 call. It will be easier to settle that way than by 
 writing. Be ready at two o'clock, my dear." 
 
 " Yes, mamma," replied Pauline, and then 
 resigned herself to another long reverie. 
 
 Punctually at two o'clock Pauline appeared, 
 looking very lovely in her simple afternoon 
 costume. 
 
 Mrs. Darryll was at home. " Mrs. Lisle ! " she 
 exclaimed, as they entered the drawing-room. 
 "Oh, how very kind of you to come and see me 
 again so soon." 
 
 " Indeed, Mrs. Darryll, we are so badly off for 
 neighbours, that I fear you will find us more 
 inclined to persecute than otherwise." 
 
 " Ah, that is so different from me," replied 
 Mrs. Darryll. "I have such a horror of 
 strangers, I never can make up my mind to face 
 them, unless I am forced. I should never have any 
 acquaintances at all, if people did not seek me." 
 
 " I hope your dislike to strangers will not 
 prevent you from granting the request I came 
 to make," said Mrs. Lisle, and she explained the 
 object of her visit. 
 
 " How very kind of you to wish it. Of course
 
 BECOMES VERY THOUGHTFUL. 161 
 
 we sliall be delighted to dine with you ; and I 
 am so nervous about driving in the dark, that 
 I shall like of all things to stay all night. I 
 have always been so horribly frightened about 
 it since we were upset one night, when Guy 
 and I were at Riverston for a few days, going 
 home from a friend's house. I have never got 
 over the nervous feeling since." 
 
 " It is fortunate for you your neighbours are 
 not quite so scattered as ours are," replied Mrs. 
 Lisle, " or that feeling would make your life 
 here rather a dull one. Pauline and I have 
 got quite case-hardened." 
 
 " Oh, I shouldn't care in the least about that. 
 I don't care about much society. With the 
 deanery so close, I shouldn't care if I never 
 could go anywhere." 
 
 " Ah !" said Mrs. Lisle ; and if she had been 
 as clever as her daughter, she would have said 
 nothing more ; but not being so, she proceeded 
 to remark — 
 
 " I have never seen very much of the dean 
 or Miss Yernon, but I must say what I have 
 seen I don't altogether like." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Mrs. Darryll, shortly. 
 
 " Yes," continued the unconscious Mrs. Lisle. 
 "I can't say I think the dean a very agree- 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 PAULINE LISLE 
 
 able man, though I believe he is very learned ; 
 and Miss Yernon, I think, gives herself airs. 
 People say she has had an education more like 
 a man than a woman, and I can't help thinking 
 she looks like it." 
 
 Mrs. DarrylFs colour rose. " Mrs. Lisle," 
 she said, "I must beg you to remember that 
 Miss Yernon is my friend, and I will not hear 
 anything said against her. Short time as I 
 have known her, I feel already that she is the 
 best friend I have ever had, and I certainly 
 could not feel even a friendly feeling towards 
 any one who said anything against her." 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Darryll !" Mrs. Lisle began, 
 " I am sure I — " but with a little silvery laugh, 
 Pauline's soft voice interposed — 
 
 '' Oh, Mrs. Darryll, you ought not to be 
 annoyed at what mamma has said. Do you not 
 see she is paying your friend a very high com- 
 pliment ? " 
 
 " No, indeed I do not ; and I do not see 
 either how you can possibly make one out of 
 it. 
 
 " Did you ever know a fond mamma, with an 
 only daughter, cordially praise or like a girl so 
 universally admired as Miss Yernon ? " 
 
 Oil on the troubled waters. The question
 
 BECOMES VERY THOUGHTFUL. 163 
 
 seemed to restore Mrs. Darryll's equanimity at 
 once, and she laughed as she said — 
 
 '* I ought to apologise for speaking so sharply, 
 Mrs. Lisle ; but one of my weaknesses is, that I 
 can never bear to hear any one I consider a 
 friend spoken against." 
 
 " Well, I will be surety for mamma's not re- 
 peating the offence," said Pauline ; " but you 
 won't expect her cordially to like Miss Yernon, 
 will you, Mrs. Darryll? Unless you can per- 
 suade your friend to some very monstrous dere- 
 liction of duty, and then I know, if every one 
 else turned against her, mamma's natural good 
 nature would make her stand up for her." 
 
 Mrs. Darryll laughed again^ and Mrs. Lisle 
 contrived adroitly to change the subject of con- 
 versation. 
 
 As soon as a day was fixed for the con- 
 templated visit to Atherley Park, Mrs. Lisle rose 
 to go, but stopped as they crossed the hall to 
 admire some plants, and at the moment Sir Guy 
 Rivers came in. Mrs. Lisle immediately bore 
 down upon him, and Pauline seizing the oppor- 
 tunity, turned to Mrs. Darryll, and said in a low 
 voice — 
 
 ^' I am so sorry mamma said anything about 
 Miss Yernon that annoyed you ; but really w^hat 
 
 M 2
 
 164 PAULINE LISLE 
 
 I told you was quite true. She is jealous of 
 her." 
 
 '' But why should she be ? " 
 
 Pauline hesitated a moment, and her eyelids 
 drooped, until the lashes shaded the eyes com- 
 pletely. Then suddenly raising them, with a 
 half sad, half pleading look, to Mrs. Darryll's 
 face, she said — 
 
 " Mrs. Darryll, have you not heard very ill- 
 natured things said about me in this neighbour- 
 hood?" 
 
 Mrs. Darryll hesitated. The question was a 
 very difficult one to answer. " I am not given 
 to believing everything I hear," she said at 
 length. 
 
 " Oh, I see," said Pauline, with a sigh^ *^ and 
 that is just the reason mamma is jealous of Miss 
 Yernon. She is so universally liked and ad- 
 mired. The fact is, my French education is 
 terribly against me in a quiet place like this. I 
 often wish I had never gone to Paris, and then 
 I should not have lost my stiff English propriety. 
 I had no idea, until quite lately^ how dreadfully I 
 offended the county decorum. I have been 
 trying to do better since, for I cannot tell you 
 how pained I felt at the construction put on 
 some of my proceedings, but * give a dog a bad
 
 BECOMES VERY THOUGHTFUL. 165 
 
 name/ you know, and I fear it is not much use 
 now. Will you be very angry if I confess, Mrs. 
 Darryll, that I was a little bit vexed too when 
 I heard what friends you and Miss Vernon 
 were?" 
 
 " Why should you be ? " 
 
 '' To tell you the truth," Pauline continued, 
 " I had some hopes from you. You have been 
 so much abroad, I thought you would under- 
 stand my ways of going on better, and not 
 judge me quite so harshly as others do ; but I'm 
 afraid if you and Miss Vernon are such friends, 
 there is little chance for poor me. I am sure 
 she does not like me." 
 
 "Well, but," said Mrs. Darryll, "I am not 
 bound only to like those my friends like. I 
 never could care for any one else as I do for Miss 
 Vernon ; but I might have a sincere regard for 
 others as well." 
 
 " Then you will spare me a little bit of kindly 
 feeling, will you not ? " said Pauline, with a 
 half melancholy smile, " and not believe all the 
 stories you hear about me ; though I know I 
 shall never get on with Miss Vernon." 
 
 "Why not?" asked Mrs. Darryll. 
 
 " Because I never can feel at ease with her, 
 and I know that always makes me so dreadfully
 
 166 PAULINE LISLE 
 
 artificial. I am sure she thinks I am so, and 
 that very consciousness makes me worse. I 
 admire her very much, and I know she is infi- 
 nitely my superior ; but I never do more than 
 admire her from a distance." 
 
 " I'm not sure that Maud is generally con- 
 sidered to have the advantage of you in looks, 
 Miss Lisle." '•"; 
 
 Pauline lo6ked up with a half-scornful flash 
 in her eyes, as she answered — 
 
 " Of course I know quite well that I have 
 more regular features, and a better complexion 
 than Miss Yernon. But do you suppose I don't 
 know the exact worth of that ? It is in her 
 quiet, graceful dignity, and that sort of nameless 
 beauty, that is so far beyond mere physical 
 beauty, that Miss Vernon is so far before me. 
 People might like me, perhaps even love me. 
 Miss Vernon they would worship." 
 
 " How much more truly you have read Maud 
 than she has read you," thought Mrs. Darryll ; 
 but she did not speak the thought ; and at the 
 moment Mrs. Lisle turned to her daughter, say- 
 ing— 
 
 " Pauline, my love, I am not promising more 
 than I can perform ; and in saying that if Sir 
 G-uy Rivers will come to us, with Mr. and Mrs.
 
 BECOMES VERY THOUGHTFUL. 1 G7 
 
 Darryll, we shall be able to give him a bed. I 
 know Harry expects some friends, but we shall 
 have a room disengaged, shall we not ? " 
 
 Pauline looked up for a moment at Sir Gruy, 
 and then said coldly, " I really am not quite sure, 
 mamma — that is to say," she added more hastily, 
 ^' I mean, of course, if Sir Guy will come, you 
 will make a point of finding a room for him. I 
 only meant it might perhaps partake a little of 
 the nature of bachelor's quarters." 
 
 She turned away as she spoke, and began 
 talking to Mrs. Darryll again — leaving Sir Guy 
 to contemplate at his leisure, if he chose, the clas- 
 sical outline of her cheek and her beautiful little 
 ear, with its very becoming ear-ring. 
 
 " Then you will keep just a little wee bit of 
 kindly feeling, or even of friendship, for me, will 
 you not?" she murmured, as she wished Mrs. 
 Darryll good-bye, retaining her hand in her's. 
 
 " Yes, indeed I will," replied Mrs. Darryll ; 
 '*but second to Miss Yernon, remember. She 
 must always stand first." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, second to her. I am very humble, 
 and shall be quite satisfied. The idea that I ever 
 could expect to stand before her, how absurd 
 it would be. Thank you so much, dear Mrs. 
 Darryll."
 
 168 PAULINE LISLE 
 
 She looked up with such a grateful look and 
 such a sweet smile, that Mrs. Darryll could not 
 resist the temptation to hend down and kiss her 
 soft cheek. 
 
 "Bless me!" exclaimed Sir Gruj, as the car- 
 riage drove off, '' you are getting wondrous affec- 
 tionate, Isabel. Is the fair Pauline destined to 
 supersede the peerless Miss Vernon ?" 
 
 " What nonsense, Guy ! As if any one could 
 ever be to me what Maud is." 
 
 " Or what Ethel Yere was," said Sir Guy. 
 
 " You don't know anything about it," she 
 retorted. " Ethel and I should have been good 
 friends to this day if she had not been so ready 
 to listen to what was said to her. You never 
 knew all that happened." 
 
 " Nor have any wish to know," he said, rather 
 contemptuously. " When two women get very 
 thick, one knows of necessity there must be a 
 jolly row, before long, in the natural order of 
 things." 
 
 " Shall I tell Miss Vernon that is your 
 opinion ? " 
 
 " You are quite welcome to tell her whatever 
 you please. I don't suppose she would care what 
 I thought about anything. Not that I believe, 
 however, that she would ever quarrel with any
 
 BECOMES VERY THOUGHTFUL. 169 
 
 one. In that respect she is not in the least like 
 a woman." 
 
 Mrs. Darryll was very angry, but at the same 
 time politic enough to drop the discussion. As, 
 however unusually good her reasons for the 
 same might be, the fact was not to be disputed 
 that her brother could have supported his side 
 of the question with sundry illustrations drawn 
 from her own past life. 
 
 " My dear Pauline ! " Mrs. Lisle exclaimed, 
 the moment the carriage turned into the high 
 road, " you really are worth your weight in gold 
 for extricating me from that dreadful scrape so 
 neatly. What a fury Mrs. Darryll was getting 
 into ! I had no idea she was so devoted to Miss 
 Vernon," 
 
 Pauline laughed, but it was rather a different 
 toned laugh from what Mrs. Darryll had heard. 
 " No more had I, until that moment ; but you 
 really must forgive me, mamma, if I say you 
 were very dull. You might have seen from 
 the first moment you mentioned Miss Yernon's 
 name, that you were treading on dangerous 
 ground." 
 
 " Ah ! you know, I never had the benefit of 
 such a training as you have had." 
 
 " That was one thing one learned, certainly,"
 
 170 I PAULINE LISLE 
 
 replied Pauline. Madame would never have 
 forgiven one if one had ever, under any circum- 
 stances, shown the slightest want of self-posses- 
 sion, or failed instantly to see the readiest way 
 of extricating oneself from a difficulty." 
 
 " It was most fortunate, our meeting Sir Gruy 
 there. He tells me he is staying at the priory." 
 
 " Yes, I knew he was," replied Pauline. 
 
 " Did you ? Who told you ? " 
 
 " Some one ; I'm sure I forget who." 
 
 " Why did you not tell me ? " asked her 
 mother. 
 
 " I did not think of it," replied Pauline, care- 
 lessly. 
 
 She had thought about it though, and decided 
 that she would not do so, as she would not quite 
 trust her mother to meet Sir Guy with the 
 proper amount of surprise at seeing him at the 
 priory, unless she was really ignorant of the fact 
 of his being there. 
 
 " Sir Guy tells me he is getting Eiverston into 
 capital order again," said Mrs. Lisle, after a few 
 moments' silence. 
 
 " Does he mean to live there entirely ?" 
 
 " For the greater part of the year he says he 
 shall. He seems full of schemes for acting the 
 model landlord ; in fact, he confirmed all Aunt
 
 BECOMES VERY THOUGHTFUL. 171 
 
 Wellwood said in her last letter. How wonder- 
 fully enthusiastic he is." 
 
 " Yery," replied Pauline, with a suppressed 
 yawn. " It must be very fatiguing, I should 
 think." 
 
 " Sir Gruy says he is going to have a party at 
 Riverston directly ; that is to say, as soon as the 
 place is ready," continued Mrs. Lisle. 
 
 " A gentlemen's party, I suppose." 
 
 " No. Mrs. Darryll is going over to entertain 
 for him, and several ladies are going, I believe. 
 The dean and Miss Yernon are going to stay 
 there." 
 
 " Are they ? " said Pauline, with rather more 
 surprise in her tone than would have satisfied 
 Madame Delpierre. 
 
 " Yes ; and I must say I don't think it is very 
 good taste of the dean taking his daughter 
 there." 
 
 "You may be sure," replied Pauline, "Miss 
 Yernon knows perfectly well the worth of that 
 character for unapproachable dignity which she 
 has contrived to establish." 
 
 " I should think she was deep enough for any- 
 thing," retorted Mrs. Lisle, who certainly seemed, 
 for the time, animated by no very amiable senti- 
 ments towards Maud Yernon. " It is very pro-
 
 172 PAULINE LISLE 
 
 voting," slie added, "but Sir Gruy told me lie 
 thought he should have a ball while the house 
 IS full, and he asked me if we would go, and I 
 was obliged to say we could not." 
 
 " What made you say that ? " asked her 
 daughter. 
 
 " It is no use thinking about it, my dear. 
 Your father never would hear of the horses going 
 so far at night, and we can't go "and stay with 
 Aunt Wellwood now. They are getting too old 
 for all that sort of confusion." 
 
 Pauline made no answer, and did not speak 
 again during their homeward drive ; but in the 
 drawing-room^ after dinner, Mrs. Lisle resumed 
 the subject of the ball at Riverston. 
 
 "I'm so sorry to think, my dear, you should 
 not be able to go. It would have been a nice 
 amusement for you^ but I sounded your father 
 after you left the dining-room, and it is not the 
 slightest use. He won't hear of it, and won't even 
 let us have post horses for the carriage though 
 I suggested that." 
 
 " My dear mamma, do not give yourself the 
 slightest trouble about it," was Pauline's answer. 
 "It is not worth it, even should the ball really 
 come off." 
 
 And Mrs. Lisle understood that her daughter
 
 BECOMES VERY THOUGHTFUL. 173 
 
 had some ideas of her own on the subject^ and 
 moreover, felt quite equal to managing her own 
 affairs. She knew the tone of voice in which 
 Pauline spoke. ,,.^^ f.f,y^.^ ^.^ ,^^ 
 
 Pauline was unusually silent that night while 
 her maid was brushing her hair, and when she 
 fell asleep it was with a soothing conviction that 
 the day had not been wasted. Yery few of 
 Pauline's days were wasted, according to her 
 measurement of the subject ; none, except under 
 compulsion. 
 
 >./;5T tn V. 
 
 1' » J.lv'11 I J I 1
 
 174 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 
 
 The party from the priory dined at the deanery 
 the next day ; and the moment Mrs. Darryll 
 and Maud were alone in the drawing-room, Sir 
 Guy's sententious remarks on female friendships 
 were poured into Maud's sympathising ears. 
 To Mrs. Darryll's surprise they were only re- 
 ceived with a quiet smile. 
 
 " Is it not too impertinent of him to say such 
 things ? " said Mrs. Darryll. 
 
 " Why did you not disprove the truth of what 
 he said, then ? " Maud asked. 
 
 " Oh, it's no use talking to Guy ; besides I 
 was so angry, we should only have quarrelled if 
 I had. It was his suggestion about Miss Lisle 
 superseding you that made me so dreadfully 
 angry. I should not have cared much but for 
 that."
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 175 
 
 '* But then Sir Guy's complimentary remarks 
 ought to have tempered your indignation." 
 
 " No, indeed. Nothing could make me more 
 angry than the suggestion that I could ever care 
 less for you, or more for any one else ; but, 
 after all, Maud^ don't you think it is a horrible 
 libel?" 
 
 '' On true friendship ? yes, certainly ; but not 
 upon what often passes current under the name," 
 replied Maud gravely. *' Friendships of the 
 romantic schoolgirl kind, as far as I see, seem 
 generally to die of exhaustion, or end before 
 long in a grand explosion." 
 
 " Well, I cannot understand it. I am sure 
 I should never tire of a friend, or feel in the 
 least inclined to quarrel either. There never 
 would have been the shadow of a misunder- 
 standing between me and any one of my friends 
 if other people had not made mischief." 
 
 " How came you to allow that ? " 
 
 " How could I prevent it ? " 
 
 "I don't think mischief is so easily made, 
 Isabel, between friends without some fault on 
 both sides. Are you sure you are not disposed 
 to be a little too exacting ? " 
 
 " Perhaps I am," she answered ; " but I don't 
 know. Perhaps I expect in return all I give.
 
 176 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 and that is more than most people are inclined 
 to grant. I could never do too much for any 
 one I loved, or feel half grateful enough for 
 every mark of affection. Ah ! Maud, you and 
 I shall never quarrel ; at least, that will be one 
 proof against Guy's theory. But Maud, in one 
 thing, I am sure you have judged Miss Lisle 
 unjustly ; she improves very much on acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 " I sincerely hope I have," replied Maud. 
 
 "You have no idea how charmingly she 
 spoke of the things that are said against her, 
 and lamented that her French education made 
 her so often shock English ideas of propriety ; 
 and she has such a high opinion of you." 
 
 " I am much obliged to her." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, she has ; and you really ought 
 to try and cultivate a more friendly feeling 
 towards her." 
 
 " What ! because she expressed a favourable 
 one of me ? " 
 
 " No, no ; but because she really is not what 
 you think her. Of course she never could be 
 to me what you are, but I really do think she is 
 a nice girl, and only a little artificial in manner 
 from being so much abroad. Mrs. Lisle is an 
 odious woman, 1 can't endure her."
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 177 
 
 "Well, of the two," replied Maud, "I should 
 say I preferred her. I certainly liked her better 
 than her daughter, or rather, I should say, dis- 
 liked her less." 
 
 " She is odious," repeated Mrs. Darryll, ener- 
 getically. "I cannot bear her. She talked 
 against you." 
 
 Maud laughed outright. " My dear Isabel ! 
 if you mean to distribute your smiles and frowns 
 simply according to whether people like or dis- 
 like me, you will find it rather troublesome in 
 the end, I think, and that it will lay you open 
 to a good deal of imposition." 
 
 "By no means. I am not at all easy to 
 impose upon, I can assure you. I often see a 
 great deal more than people think, but I cannot 
 help it; I never can like any one who speaks 
 against my friends. But, Maud, do you really 
 think I am too exacting?" 
 
 "I do think you are a little inclined to be 
 so, and, in spite of your protestations, I am 
 not sure you have not a slight tendency to 
 jealousy." 
 
 "To jealousy! No, surely not. I don't 
 think I have the least tendency to that. I think 
 I am perhaps a little exacting, because I expect 
 people to feel for me just what I feel for them. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 WISE AS A SERPEXT. 
 
 But nothing now could ever make me the least 
 jealous of you." 
 
 " Nor of your husband ? " 
 
 " Now, Maud ! you are thinking of that 
 foolish question of mine, I know." 
 
 " Yes, I was, I admit. Why should that look 
 have troubled you if you were not a little dis- 
 posed to feel jealous ?" 
 
 " Just for the reason I told you : that I had 
 been so often deceived^ that it has made me 
 quick to notice trifles." 
 
 "Yery well," replied Maud, "I am quite 
 ready to accept the explanation; only, dear 
 Isabel, as you value your happiness, take care of 
 even the point of the finest wedge where your 
 husband is concerned. I don't think you were 
 quite right there." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " You ought to have asked him about it at once." 
 " And let him know what a fool I had been ?" 
 said Mrs. Darryll, laughing. " No, thank you. 
 I should never have heard the last of it. It 
 was much better to take no notice. Of course, 
 in that case there was no chance ; but if there 
 had been anything more, I should soon have 
 seen it, and if not, it was much better nothing 
 should be said."
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 179 
 
 " I don't think you are right," repHed Maud ; 
 but the entrance of the gentlemen prevented any 
 further discussion. 
 
 " Mrs. Darryll," said the dean, " I hear you 
 are a chess-player. Is that true ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, yes ; I dehght in it." 
 
 *' I used to play with her occasionally," said 
 Mr. Darryll, " but she bullied me so awfully, I 
 was obliged to give it up." 
 
 " Now, Edgar, I will not have you say such 
 things," exclaimed his wife. " Come, Mr. Dean, 
 and you will see what a meek, quiet player I 
 am." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I daresay," retorted Mr. Darryll, 
 " as long as you are not playing with your 
 husband." 
 
 They began their game, and Mr. Darryll, 
 leaning on the back of his wife's chair, watched 
 it. Maud was sitting close to the open window: 
 Sir Guy came up, and leaned against the win- 
 dow-frame beside her. 
 
 " I suppose Isabel has been telling you all the 
 impertinent things I said to-day; has she not, 
 Miss Vernon ? " 
 
 *' What, about female friendships ? Yes." 
 
 ^' Are you very indignant ? " 
 
 " Not at all." 
 
 X 2
 
 180 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " I didn't really mean it about all women," 
 said Sir Gruy. " I shouldn't like you to think 
 that; but I cannot help laughing at the way 
 Isabel goes on. She has always got some prime 
 friend^ and then, after a while, she has a tre- 
 mendous quarrel with her, and kicks her over." 
 
 " She seems, from her own account, to have 
 been rather unfortunate in her selection of 
 friends," said Maud. 
 
 "Well, perhaps, she has. I'm sure I don't 
 know. By the bye, I saw Miss Lisle to-day." 
 
 " Isabel told me she had been at the priory." 
 
 " I never saw her before," continued Sir Guy. 
 " She is certainly a beautiful girl ; but she looks 
 precious deep." 
 
 " I don't like her looks at all," said Maud. 
 
 " She gave me a queer feeling," said Sir Gruy, 
 in a lower tone. " I felt fascinated^ and yet half- 
 inclined to shudder. The only person who ever 
 made me feel that before, did me a deal of mis- 
 chief. Miss Vernon, do you believe in presenti- 
 ments ? " 
 
 " I believe that most generally they work out 
 their own fulfilment," replied Maud. 
 
 " We are to dine and sleep there next week. 
 1 shouldn't wonder if we get upset going, or 
 come to grief in some way."
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 181 
 
 " You had better walk over, then," said Maud, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Thirteen miles ; in dress boots, I suppose ; 
 thank you. How hot it is to-night. Don't you 
 think so ? I am sure there is thunder in the 
 air." 
 
 He stepped out on to the lawn as he spoke, 
 with a restless, impatient sort of movement. In 
 a few moments he came back to the window 
 again. 
 
 " Miss Yernon," he said, " do come and look 
 at the cathedral. It does look so awfully jolly 
 in the moonlight." 
 
 "You forget that it is not quite such a rare 
 sight to me as to you," replied Maud, without 
 moving. " I see it almost every night of my 
 life." 
 
 " Yes, yes, but do come and look at it now ; 
 it looks so wonderfully grand to-night. You 
 can see it from just a few yards this way." 
 
 Maud yielded, and stepped out of the window. 
 The old cathedral was certainly a splendid ob- 
 ject in the clear pale moonlight. They stood 
 for a few moments looking at it in silence. 
 
 " Beautiful ! " murmured Sir Guy at last ; 
 " beautiful ! Such perfect peace and stillness. 
 It doesn't suit me to-night, though. I should
 
 182 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 like to have out my horse, and have a tre- 
 mendous gallop across country. What's the 
 best cure for restlessness, Miss Yernon ? " 
 
 " I fancy that must depend upon what it 
 springs from," she replied. 
 
 Just as she spoke, Sir Gruy made a sudden 
 spring round a shrub close to them. 
 ' " What is the matter ? " Maud asked. 
 
 " I could have sworn there was some one be- 
 hind that bush," he said, as he came back. He 
 glanced uneasily round. '' Can you hear them 
 talking in the drawing-room. Miss Yernon ?" 
 
 " I can just hear a faint sound of voices," she 
 replied, " occasionally." 
 
 " I wonder why it is," he said. "Do one's 
 senses become sharpened when one is the least 
 excited ? I can hear them quite distinctly, almost 
 enough to catch what they say sometimes." 
 
 , " But, surely, there is nothing to excite you 
 now," replied Maud, gently. 
 
 " No, but I get these sort of excited fits some- 
 times, for no particular reason." 
 
 " You must not give way to them," she said. 
 " Come in, and sit down." 
 
 He followed her back to the drawing-room, 
 and, sitting down on a low chair beside her, con- 
 tinued talking to her. Gradually the feverish
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 183 
 
 restless look left his face, and he seemed more 
 like himself again. 
 
 " Deanery influence," he said at last. " 1 
 should have been restless all night, and not slept 
 a wink, if I had been anywhere else but here. 
 Miss Yernon, it is lucky you did not live a couple 
 of centuries ago." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " You would certainly have been burnt for a 
 witch. You, or the place, have exorcised the 
 devil completely." 
 
 Just as he spoke, Mrs. Darryll suddenly rose 
 from the chess-table, saying — 
 
 " It is no use, Mr. Dean. I shall be check- 
 mated next move. I will give you the game." 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Darryll!" remonstrated the 
 dean, "that by no means follows. You have 
 not been playing a very good game, certainly ; 
 but, with a little care, you might retrieve it 
 
 yet." 
 
 " No, no," she said. " I should be checkmated 
 directly." 
 
 " Nonsense, Isabel ! " said her husband. " I've 
 known you retrieve a far worse game than that, 
 though you certainly have been playing in the 
 wildest way to-night. Sit down and finish the 
 game."
 
 184 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " No, I can't. I can't play a bit to-night. It 
 is time to go home, too." 
 
 " The carriage is not come yet," he said. 
 
 " I don't want the carriage. I should like to 
 walk home across the park. It is such a beauti- 
 ful night ; if they would bring my cloak " 
 
 Maud rang the bell. " Are you sure you will 
 be warm enough, Isabel ? " she said, as the cloak 
 was brought, " it is such a light one. Do have 
 one of mine." 
 
 " No, thank you," replied Mrs. Darryll, coldly ; 
 " this is quite enough. Perhaps you would 
 be kind enough, Mr. Dean, when the carriage 
 comes, to send it back, and say I have walked. 
 Good night, Maud," she added, just kissing her 
 cheek ; and, shaking hands with the dean, she 
 walked out through the window, and crossed the 
 lawn, followed by her husband. 
 
 Sir Guy quietly sat down again. " I shall 
 take the liberty of waiting fi^r the carriage," 
 he remarked ; "as it is coming, I don't see why 
 I shouldn't go home in it. There is a consi- 
 derable amount of dew, and one's dress boots 
 would be tolerably wet by the time one had 
 walked across the grass in the park. I hope 
 Darryll will enjoy his walk home," he added, 
 laughing.
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 185 
 
 The carriage drove up in a few minutes, and 
 Sir Guy left. The moment the door closed 
 behind him, the dean turned to his daughter. 
 " My dear Maud ! what is the matter ? " 
 
 " Just the very question I was going to ask 
 you, papa. Isabel is evidently very much 
 annoyed about something, but I cannot con- 
 ceive what it can be. I thought it must be 
 something about the chess. 
 
 " I cannot think of anything/' replied the 
 dean, looking much perplexed. " I noticed 
 that she played very oddly. Once or twice I 
 had to prevent her moving my men instead of 
 her own ; and several times she made the most 
 extraordinary blunders ; but I had not the least 
 idea what was the matter until she got up. It 
 is very unfortunate ; what can be the cause ? " 
 
 " I cannot think of anything that can have 
 annoyed her," replied Maud, " but I daresay I 
 shall hear." 
 
 '^ She is a most wonderful egotist," said the 
 dean, " I never came across any one so clever 
 at bringing any possible subject of conversation 
 round to some personal appHcation. Does she 
 always go on that way, Maud ? " 
 
 " Rather. It is very tiresome sometimes, and 
 yet there are a great many good points about
 
 186 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 her. She is very generous, and very ready to 
 admit her own failings." 
 
 " What an enthusiastic devotion she seems to 
 have conceived for you," remarked the dean. 
 
 " A great deal too much so. I wish, most 
 sincerely, slie was a little less devoted. It is 
 a sort of thing that becomes very wearying. 
 And yet there are, as I said, so many good 
 points about her, that one cannot help liking 
 her." 
 
 Which was perfectly true ; but, at the same 
 time, when the object of such an enthusiastic 
 affection as Mrs. Darryll's for Maud Vernon is 
 obliged to keep constantly in mind, as a subject 
 of contemplation, the good points of the adoring 
 friend's disposition, it does not speak for an 
 exactly mutual state of feeling ; and Maud was 
 by no means blind to this fact. But though she 
 regretted Mrs. Darryll's want of sufficient ballast 
 to keep her from running into extremes, even 
 in her friendships, she little dreamed what was 
 the real nature of the position into which she 
 was being rapidly drawn, or of the clouds which 
 were already beginning to gather on the horizon 
 of her hitherto peaceful life. In mercy, verily, 
 has a veil been drawn over the future. If 
 memory alone can do all it does to poison the
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 187 
 
 present, what chance would there be for un- 
 happy mortals if, to bitter recollections of the 
 past, were added dire forebodings of sorrows to 
 come ! 
 
 Maud sought in vain, in all that had happened 
 that evening, for any cause for Mrs. Darryll's 
 evident annoyance. There was not a thing that 
 she could think of to account for it, and she 
 could only suppose that she must have been 
 right in her supposition, that something had 
 happened during the game of chess which 
 had displeased her, and that it had escaped 
 the dean's notice. 
 
 The next morning, however, her maid brought 
 her a note from Mrs. Darryll, before she was 
 up, saying the servant was waiting for an 
 answer ; it was very short — 
 
 " Dear Maud, 
 
 " Do make a point of coming here this morn- 
 ing, I want particularly to speak to you. 
 " Yours ever, 
 
 " Isabel." 
 
 " Then it's all right, I suppose," thought 
 Maud. "Tell the man to give Mrs. Darryll 
 my love," she said, " and say that I will be with 
 her soon after breakfast."
 
 188 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " Do you mean to ask her what was the 
 matter ? " the dean asked, when Maud told him 
 what had passed. 
 
 " Not unless she introduces the subject. I 
 think those things are better unnoticed ; but 
 I strongly suspect it is about that she wants 
 to speak to me. I am going to ride, so I shall 
 stop there on my way out." 
 
 Maud found Mrs. Darryll in her dressing- 
 room, and could not help thinking she looked 
 as if she had not passed a very tranquil night. 
 She was pale, and did not look altogether 
 serene. 
 
 " What urgent business requires my presence 
 this morning, Isabel ? " she asked. 
 
 " At any rate, I see, by your dress, you don't 
 intend it shall detain you very long," replied 
 Mrs. Darryll, with some little asperity. 
 
 " Nay," said Maud, " as it is not much more 
 than twelve hours since we parted, I did not 
 think you would want my presence for any 
 great length of time. I thought you only 
 wanted to ask me some question." 
 
 " Twelve wretched hours they have been to 
 me," replied Mrs. Darryll. *' I have not closed 
 my eyes all night." 
 
 " My dear Isabel," said Maud gravely, '* it is
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 189 
 
 useless for me to affect not to know that you are 
 annoyed about something ; but neither papa nor 
 I can imagine what it can be." 
 
 " Oh, you have been discussing me, have you, 
 then?" 
 
 " Most undoubtedly we have. It was im- 
 possible to help seeing, when you left last night, 
 that you were annoyed about something ; and 
 papa was very much vexed about it, for neither he 
 nor I could imagine what had displeased you." 
 
 " Is that true, Maud ? " 
 
 " What ? " asked Maud. 
 
 " That you could not imagine what had dis- 
 turbed me." 
 
 She looked closely at Maud as she spoke, and 
 Maud returned the look with one of most un- 
 feigned astonishment — 
 
 " My dear Isabel, what on earth can you 
 mean ? " 
 
 " Well, I see I was wrong, and I am very 
 sorry, but I really could not help fancying it." 
 
 " Fancying what ? " asked Maud, more and 
 more bewildered every moment. 
 
 '^ You must not be angry with me for thinking 
 so," said Mrs. Darryll, looking more like herself, 
 " but the truth is, I could not help thinking you 
 and Guy were talking about me."
 
 190 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 Maud's eyes flashed for a moment, and her 
 colour rose, but she only answered quietly, 
 " Not a very complimentary suspicion, cer- 
 tainly, either to Sir Guy Eivers or myself." 
 
 " Oh, I don't care a straw about Guy," re- 
 plied Mrs. Darryll, " but I am really very sorry, 
 Maud, about it. I don't know what put the 
 idea into my head, but I fancied you were talk- 
 ing about me when you were together at the 
 window ; and when you both went out on to 
 the lawn it confirmed my suspicions. Then, when 
 you came in again, I felt sure I saw you both 
 look at me ; and, afterwards, I just caught some- 
 thing Guy said about deanery influence exor- 
 cising the devil, and I felt certain it was about 
 me he was talking. It made me so angry I 
 could not stand it any longer. I am sure the 
 dean must have thought I was mad. I could 
 not play a bit. Dear Maud, you will forgive 
 me, won't you ? You don't know how miserable 
 I have been. I hated myself for thinking of it, 
 and yet I could not shake off the feeling. Do 
 assure me you were really not talking about 
 me. 
 
 *'For the matter of that," answered Maud, 
 " we were, for a few moments ; for Sir Guy asked 
 me whether you had told me what he had been
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 191 
 
 saying about friendships ; but certainly beyond 
 that your name was never mentioned." 
 
 Maud did not consider that truth laid a 
 solemn obligation upon her to state the exact 
 nature of Sir Guy Kivers' remarks upon his 
 sister, though the present state of affairs re- 
 called them rather vividly to her mind. 
 
 " And you are not very angry with me for 
 thinking so, are you ? " Mrs. Darryll said, 
 taking Maud's hand. " Indeed I am very sorry." 
 
 " There is nothing to be angry about, Isabel, 
 though certainly your suspicions were by no 
 means complimentary." 
 
 "Yes, indeed, there is, and it would only 
 serve her right if you were very angry indeed." 
 
 "I suspect you have been punished quite 
 enough without any intervention of mine/* 
 
 " Indeed I have. I have been miserable ; 
 and now I have such a dreadful headache, I 
 don't know how to endure it. Do you know 
 I really begin to fear that you must be right, 
 and that I am rather suspicious naturally." 
 
 '' I do not feel the slightest doubt on the 
 subject. You have abundantly justified the 
 accusation, and if you do not keep it in check 
 it will cause you much misery." 
 
 " Not as far as you are concerned, Maud.
 
 192 WISE AS A SERPEXT. 
 
 I might have such a fancy as this, sometimes, 
 but I should always ask you about it directly, 
 so it could not do much harm there." 
 
 " Don't be too sure of that, but try to keep 
 the feeling in check." 
 
 '' I will, indeed, and you will forgive me, will 
 you not? You don't know how wretched I 
 have been." 
 
 " You are a silly girl," Maud answered, ** so 
 now think no more about it, save to remember 
 in future to be wiser." 
 
 " You may be sure I shall be that. I shall 
 not soon forget the lesson last night has taught 
 me. I never suspected I had the disposition 
 before. I shall be on my guard now against it. 
 Good-bye, Maud, my good angel, I won't keep 
 you from your ride this beautiful morning, or I 
 should like to keep you here all day." 
 
 As Maud crossed the hall Mr. Darryll came 
 out of the library. "Have you been to see 
 Isabel ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," answered Maud, " she asked me to 
 come and speak to her this morning." 
 
 " Yes, I know," he replied. " Are you going 
 to ride?" 
 
 " Does not my dress answer that question ? " 
 she asked, with a smile.
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 193 
 
 " Yes, of course it does. In fact, the truth 
 is, I was not thinking of what I was saying. 
 What on earth is the matter with Isabel, Miss 
 Yernon ? " 
 
 "I do not think she is ill," replied Maud. 
 " She complains of having a headache, but 
 nothing more serious." 
 
 " No, I don't mean anything about her health, 
 but what on earth put her out so dreadfully last 
 night ? I never saw her in such a state before. 
 I thought she had caught the infection from 
 Rivers. He was ramping about, all yesterday 
 afternoon, more like a caged wild beast than a 
 christian, declaring there was thunder in the 
 air, and it made him restless ; but he seemed all 
 right when he came home, apparently having 
 made over the attack to Isabel. I could not get 
 her to say what was the matter ; but she was in 
 a tremendous state about something." 
 
 " She says she had a dreadful headache when 
 she came home last night." 
 
 " That won't account for it. Miss Yernon. 
 She has often had headaches, but they never 
 produce such an effect. I suspect the headache 
 was the effect, not the cause. When she sent 
 off for you this morning I thought it was on the 
 subject of whatever was wrong." 
 
 VOL. T.
 
 194 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " She wanted to ask me about somethiDg she 
 was uncertain about," replied Maud, " which I 
 think had been worrying her. I think you will 
 find she is quite herself now." 
 
 "I'm sure I hope so," replied Mr. Darryll. 
 *'I wish you would wait a moment," he added, 
 as he settled Maud in her saddle, " and I'll go 
 and ride with you ; it is such a splendid 
 morning. They'll saddle my horse in two 
 minutes." 
 
 "No, thank you," replied Maud. "I had 
 rather not." 
 
 " Candid, at any rate," exclaimed Mr. Darryll, 
 laughing. 
 
 " You know I always say what I mean," she 
 answered lightly, as she rode away. 
 
 "I should think I did," Edgar Darryll 
 muttered to himself as he stood watching her. 
 " What a noble creature she is ! " Then his 
 thoughts went suddenly back to years that 
 were gone, and assumed a tone which would 
 hardly have helped to confirm his wife's re- 
 stored composure could she have seen them, 
 and which his own good sense condemned even 
 while he indulged them. " Confound it," he 
 exclaimed at last, '^ this will never do ; " and 
 turning suddenly back into the house, he went
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 195 
 
 off to the library again to seek refuge in the 
 papers. 
 
 He did well to start away from his thoughts 
 at that moment. They were dangerous ones 
 for any man to indulge, doubly dangerous for 
 him in his peculiar circumstances; amounting 
 to little less than a mental contrast, pretty 
 vividly drawn, between his present position as 
 he actually stood, and as it would have been if, 
 five years ago, Maud Yernon had been of a 
 different mind. Edgar Darryll had made a 
 mistake, and he knew it now. He had really 
 and truly loved Maud Yernon, but her evident 
 indifference had made him aware from the first 
 moment that the feeling was a hopeless one; 
 though, perhaps, not thereby rendering it an 
 easier one to conquer. He fully believed, 
 however, that he had conquered it, and ima- 
 gined he really loved Isabel Rivers. He did 
 too, to a certain extent, though whether he 
 would have arrived at that conclusion had she 
 been only Miss Rivers, and not Miss Rivers the 
 heiress, might perhaps be doubtful. At any 
 rate, in all good faith, he had asked her to be 
 his wife, and never doubted but that they 
 should get on very well. But the bubble burst 
 the moment he saw Maud Yernon again. Then 
 
 2
 
 196 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 he learned what many another man like him 
 has learned too late ; aye, and woman too, for 
 the matter of that. That neither man nor 
 woman can safely tell whether an old love is 
 really dead, as long as they have never tested 
 what effect the presence of the object of it will 
 produce. It may sleep for years in the calm 
 tranquillity of absence, and yet start into full 
 life again, as if touched by an enchanter s 
 wand, the moment the well-known form, or 
 face, is present; or, perhaps, even more, the 
 moment the old familiar voice is heard. Edgar 
 Darryll shook from head to foot with the 
 violence of the storm which the sight of Maud 
 aroused on that occasion, to which Mrs. Darryll 
 had referred when driving home from Atherley 
 Park ; and of which Maud had then given what 
 she, in all sincerity, believed the correct inter- 
 pretation. She suspected, it is true, a part of 
 the truth, but only a part. She did not believe 
 that Mr. Darryll was animated by any very 
 romantic devotion to his wife ; but of his feel- 
 ings towards herself she never dreamed, and 
 fully believed that any passing regard he had 
 felt for her had long been over. Little did she 
 know the effort it had cost him, that day, to 
 hide the internal tumult her presence had pro-
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 197 
 
 duced ; or how carefully since he had striven to 
 avoid her society, as much as possible, until he 
 believed he had really conquered the feeling. 
 He was not, perhaps, possessed of a very highly 
 exalted moral tone, but he was an honest 
 straightforward man, with a fair share of good 
 sense, and he steadily resolved to make the best 
 of his position. To love his wife if he could. 
 To be, at any rate, a good husband, under any 
 circumstances. To make the best thing he 
 could out of his life, and, above all, to get over 
 this feeling about Maud, now that it was im- 
 possible to find safety in absence. He really 
 believed he had succeeded in this, and hence 
 had grown bold enough to volunteer to accom- 
 pany her in her ride. But his feelings at her 
 quiet refusal, and the subsequent tenor of his 
 own thoughts, rather tended to disturb his tran- 
 quillity on that point, and sent him back to 
 the library in anything but a pleasant frame of 
 mind. 
 
 Maud continued her ride, in a not much more 
 serene frame of mind than Mr. Darryll's, at 
 that moment. The cloud had been lifted off 
 Isabel, only to settle down on her. What could 
 she hope from such a disposition ? evidently, in 
 spite of her own protestations, so quick to sus-
 
 198 WISE AS A SERPEXT. 
 
 pect, and afflicted with such an amount of mor- 
 bid egotism as was conspicuous in her. If she 
 had not felt, through it all, that Mrs. Darryll 
 was really deeply attached to her, Maud would 
 have felt much inclined to draw back from the 
 acquaintance ; but that she could not do. Isabel 
 was, truly, with all her wealth, strangely with- 
 out friends, and seemed so thrown upon her. 
 
 She was so deep in thought, that she did not 
 hear the sound of approaching hoofs, until she 
 was startled by hearing a voice close to her 
 say— 
 
 " Grood morning, Miss Maud ! Here's another 
 case of a deep reverie." 
 
 " Oh, Dr. Marsh ! " she exclaimed ; " how you 
 startled me." 
 
 " So I perceive. Is it too incautious a ques- 
 tion to ask, who was the absorbing object of your 
 thoughts ? " 
 
 He spoke playfully, but he watched her closely 
 as he did so. 
 
 Why do you say * who ' ? " she replied. " Why 
 not ' what ' ? " 
 
 " Humph ! " said Doctor Marsh, " when one 
 finds a young lady in a deep study, with " — he 
 added, with a mischievous look — " a strange con- 
 fusion between curb and snaffle reins, one is apt
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 199 
 
 to think the subject of contemplation must be 
 something more absorbing than any ' what ' 
 could be." 
 
 Maud laughed. " You have me fairly there," 
 «he said, re-arranging her reins. " If papa had 
 seen me, what would he have said ? and, after 
 all, you are not far wrong. It was of some one 
 I was thinking, and of some one who is, at this 
 moment, causing me a great deal of uneasi- 
 ness." 
 
 " Can 1 be of any use ? " asked Dr. Marsh. 
 
 "Yes, I think you might. It was of Mrs. 
 Darryll I was thinking." 
 
 " Of Mrs. Darryll ? " rephed Dr. Marsh, with 
 a decided shade of relief in his tone. 
 
 " Yes, she is rather a source of uneasiness to 
 me, at present," said Maud. And she told 
 Doctor Marsh all that had passed. 
 
 He listened attentively, and his face grew 
 graver and graver, as she proceeded. 
 
 " My difficulty is," said Maud, " to know how 
 to treat her. It is a sort of disposition I have 
 never come across before." 
 
 "It is a most unfortunate one," replied Doctor 
 Marsh, " and about the most difficult you could 
 have to deal with." 
 
 " Consolatory," she answered. " I had looked
 
 200 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 forward to a mistress coming to the priory as an 
 increase to my enjoyments here ; but if this is to 
 go on, I don't think I shall find it so." 
 
 " It is just what I feared," Doctor Marsh 
 said. 
 
 " How do you mean ? " 
 
 " Why, you know I have known about Mrs. 
 Darryll ever since she was an infant ; though I 
 have never spoken to her. In fact, I was pre- 
 sent when she was born — poor child ! poor 
 child ! " he added thoughtfully. 
 
 Maud looked at him in some surprise. " What 
 makes you speak in that way ? " she asked. 
 
 Dr. Marsh did not answer for a moment. Then 
 he said earnestly — 
 
 " My dear Miss Yernon, I am afraid you have 
 had an acquaintance almost forced upon you 
 which may cause you a great deal of trouble ; 
 and yet, to tell you the truth, I can hardly regret 
 it. Mrs. Darryll is evidently, from all you tell 
 me, of a most unhappy disposition ; a suspicious, 
 self-tormenting egotist. But I think you have 
 it in your power to do much for her." 
 
 " Do you really think so ? " Maud asked. 
 
 " I do, indeed, if you have patience for the 
 task ; but you will need it." 
 
 " Explain," said Maud, the deep thoughtful
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 201 
 
 loolv coming over her face, wliich always meant 
 that she was prepared to take firmly hold of a 
 subject. 
 
 " These sort of dispositions," continued Doctor 
 Marsh, " often bring their possessors into our 
 hands, for they constantly exercise a prejudicial 
 influence on the general health, so we see a good 
 deal of them ; but I think you could do more 
 than I could, in such a case as Mrs. Darryll's. 
 If you have patience to bear with these fancies ; 
 to reason or laugh her out of them, as your judg- 
 ment shows you may be best ; to try and draw 
 her thoughts away from herself, and encourage 
 her to occupy herself in any pursuits whatever 
 which interest and amuse her — you may do a 
 great deal for her, and make a most beneficial 
 use of the hold her affection for you gives you 
 upon her." 
 
 " That is the very thing I cannot understand," 
 Maud said. " We have not known each other 
 many months, and yet her devotion to me 
 amounts almost to absurdity. If we had been 
 friends from infancy, it could not have been 
 stronger." 
 
 " That is another characteristic of such dispo- 
 sitions ; and, my dear Maud, you must not expect 
 to escape on that point as well. Such people
 
 202 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 are generally disposed to be jealous of those to 
 whom they are attached." 
 
 " I have suspected that," she said. 
 
 "Does Mrs. Darryll show any tendency to 
 matrimonial jealousy ? " asked Dr. Marsh. 
 
 Maud hesitated. "I am not quite sure. I 
 thought once I detected just the faintest symptom 
 of it, but only for a moment." 
 
 " Is her health good ? " 
 
 " Yery good, seemingly. She complains occa- 
 sionally of suffering from bad headaches, but 
 never anything else." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Dr. Marsh, " I thought so. You 
 should persuade her always to endeavour to get 
 rid of those by the use of any remedies she 
 finds available. That is an inheritance, I don't 
 doubt. Her poor mother used to suffer some- 
 times from most frightful headaches. Well, 
 my dear young lady, we must part here ; and I 
 cannot congratulate you on your new friendship, 
 as far as your own personal enjoyment thereof 
 is concerned. But if you have a mind to be 
 very useful, you have an opportunity, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " That certainly puts the subject in a different 
 light," she answered. " I cannot return Mrs. 
 DarrylFs enthusiastic devotion, but I have a sin-
 
 SMALL CLOUDS. 203 
 
 cere regard for her, and would gladly do a great 
 deal for her." 
 
 So Maud rode off to the deanery, with some 
 light upon her perplexities ; the cloud being 
 now transferred to Dr. Marsh ; and, to judge by 
 his face, as he rode home, it had settled down 
 pretty heavily upon him. " I wish I could think 
 I were justified in telling her the truth," he 
 thought. But unfortunately he could not arrive 
 at a conviction agreeable to his wishes, which- 
 ever way he looked at the subject, unless 
 
 " Then nothing shall prevent my speaking out," 
 he said aloud, as he dismounted at his own door, 
 much to the astonishment of his groom, of whose 
 presence he had been totally oblivious.
 
 204 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 
 
 Mrs. Darryll seemed quite herself again the 
 next time Maud saw her. Maud had been re- 
 volving deeply in her mind the advice Doctor 
 Marsh had given her, and determined to put it 
 in practice at once. Too earnest in purpose and 
 too decided in character to allow any unnecessary 
 time to elapse between the deciding that a thing 
 ought to be done and beginning to do it, she had 
 already resolved on trying to make Mrs. Darryll 
 occupy herself in some way calculated to draw 
 her out of herself. She had not merely listened 
 to Doctor Marsh, and determined to follow his 
 advice as that of a more experienced judge in 
 the case than herself; that was not her method 
 of proceeding, under any circumstances. She 
 had taken what he said as her guide, and de- 
 veloped a great deal more out of it ; and, in fact,
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 205 
 
 felt herself now master of her subject. Maud 
 was wrong there, though ; she was not master of 
 her own position, by any means, though quite 
 enough so to enable her to understand the re- 
 quirements of her eccentric friend, and treat her 
 accordingly. One thing she was quite aware 
 she should need sorely, and that was patience, 
 though, for the present moment, that did not 
 seem likely to be tried. 
 
 "Do you know, Maud," Mrs. Darryll said, 
 the next time they met, " I have been thinking, 
 ever since I saw you, about my absurd fancy the 
 other night." 
 
 " I'm sorry to hear it, Isabel." 
 
 " Why?" asked Mrs. Darryll. 
 
 " Because I think you might have found a 
 more profitable subject for reflection." 
 
 " No, indeed, you are wrong there. I have 
 learned a great deal, by thinking it over, that 
 will be very useful to me hereafter. I never 
 suspected before that I was naturally of a sus- 
 picious disposition, and now I see that I must be. 
 You know I said it was being so often deceived 
 that had made me watchful ; but that never 
 could have led me to suspect you, Maud. I see 
 now that I must be naturally suspicious, and 
 indeed I cannot regret that things happened as
 
 206 WISE AS A SERPEXT. 
 
 tliey did. I shall be on my guard against the 
 danger now, and I know you are too generous 
 to resent my bad conduct." 
 
 "If you have really learned to feel your 
 danger, and guard against it, you will certainly 
 have gained something ; but I wish you would 
 try another safeguard." 
 
 " What is that ? " 
 
 " A little more occupation, to keep your 
 thoughts from dwelling on these things." 
 
 " More occupation, Maud ? Why, I am never 
 idle." 
 
 "Perhaps not exactly sitting still, doing 
 nothing, but still not occuj)ied enough to keep 
 your mind busy." 
 
 " But what can I do ? We have no tenantry, 
 you know. I don't see what I could find to 
 occupy my time more than it is already occupied." 
 
 " You might do a good deal in the town if you 
 would. There are many things in which they 
 very much want some lady to take the lead." 
 
 " Oh, but I cannot bear that. People stare at 
 one, and talk about one, if one takes the lead in 
 anything." 
 
 " What nonsense, Isabel ! Let them stare and 
 talk, what harm will it do you ? Now, will you 
 come down to the orphan school with me this
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 207 
 
 afternoon and see the matron ? There are half 
 a hundred ways in which you might help her, 
 and the school is not supported as it ought to he 
 in the county." 
 
 " Yes, I should like that, I think. Children 
 always take to me directly. In fact, dear Maud, 
 I will do anything you wish." 
 
 To the orphan school they went accordingly 
 that afternoon ; and Mrs. Darryll became directly 
 most ardently interested therein, and full of 
 plans for the benefit of the children. Maud 
 thought her first attempts on Mrs. Darryll's 
 behalf had been very successful so far, but as 
 they walked up to the deanery afterwards Isabel 
 suddenly said — 
 
 " You know, Maud, I don't think I really care 
 much about those wretched children. It is more 
 because you asked me, that I am interested in 
 the school, and because you made a point of my 
 going there." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it," answered Maud. 
 
 " What, sorry to hear that I wished to do a 
 thing because you asked me?" n>i. Ai. 
 
 " No ; but sorry you cannot extend the sphere 
 of your interests a little." 
 
 " I don't want a more extended sphere of 
 interests. I have you, and that is enough."
 
 208 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 Maud began, after that, to feel somewhat 
 doubtful as to the success of her scheme. 
 
 "Is there any chance of our meeting you 
 at Atherley Park on Thursday ? " Mrs. Darryll 
 asked, as she was preparing to leave the deanery. 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Maud ; " we never 
 visit there — at least, not beyond a morning 
 call." 
 
 " I do wish you knew Miss Lisle better ; I am 
 sure you would not dislike her so much if you 
 did." 
 
 " I don't feel at all sure on that point ; and 
 certainly if my liking her better is to depend on 
 my knowing her better, there is no chance. I 
 am never likely to know her better than I do 
 now." 
 
 " I never saw any one so prejudiced as you 
 are against Miss Lisle." 
 
 " Perhaps," replied Maud ; " time will show." 
 
 " I believe you have infected Guy, too." 
 
 " How so ? " 
 
 " He has taken one of his absurd fancies about 
 Miss Lisle, says she makes him think of a rattle- 
 snake, and that he can quite well imagine by 
 his feelings when he is near her, how a bird 
 feels when a rattle-snake is looking at it ; and I 
 don't know how much more nonsense besides."
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 209 
 
 Maud made no answer, and Mrs. Darryll left 
 her. 
 
 " I wish to goodness/' Sir Guy exclaimed, on 
 Thursday morning, " I had not been such a fool 
 as to promise to go over to that j)lace. It is a 
 horrid bore." 
 
 " Nonsense, Guy ! " replied his sister ; " you 
 will enjoy it well enough when you are there." 
 
 " I don't know. I don't feel in the humour to 
 enjoy anything, particularly ; besides, I want to 
 get back to Eiverston." 
 
 " You were in hurry enough to get away a 
 very short time since." 
 
 " Quite true ; and now I am in a hurry to get 
 back. You see we are never satisfied in this 
 world." 
 
 With many lamentations over his hard fate. 
 Sir Guy took his place in the carriage, in the 
 afternoon. 
 
 "Mind, Isabel," he said, ''I won't have you 
 growing enthusiastic, and asking the Lisles over 
 to Eiverston." 
 
 " You should not have suggested the idea,'' 
 she answered. "I should never have thought 
 of it if you had not. Now, I think I am very 
 likely to do it." 
 
 " It will be very awkward for you if you do," 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 said her brother^ calmly, " as you would only 
 have to unsay the invitation again. At least, I 
 will choose who visit at my own house." 
 
 " I do believe Maud has been saying some- 
 thing to you about that girl, Guy. I declare, if 
 I did not knov/ Maud so well, I could almost 
 imagine she were jealous of her." 
 
 " Miss Yernon jealous of Miss Lisle ?" said Sir 
 Guy. 
 
 The tone of his voice made his sister look at 
 him, and she became unusually quiet afterwards, 
 for a time. 
 
 It was time to dress for dinner before they 
 reached Atherley Park, and when Mrs. Darryll 
 descended to the drawing-room, she found a large 
 party assembled there. 
 
 " What a shame of you to have such a lot of 
 23eople," she whispered to Mrs. Lisle. '' I told 
 you how I hated strangers." 
 
 '' But really, my dear Mrs. Darryll, I can 
 assure you I could not help it. Every one is so 
 anxious to know you. You really must get over 
 that feeling. Ah, here comes Sir Guy !" 
 
 He entered at the moment ; and, just at the 
 same time, Pauline appeared at another door, 
 more beautiful than ever, Mrs. Darryll thought, 
 as she gracefully crossed the room, and with a
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 211 
 
 slight formal bow to Sir Guy, seated herself on 
 a low stool beside Mrs. Darryll, and looking np 
 with an arch look, said — 
 
 " Now, am I not improving ? Did I not do 
 that like the best behaved young lady in the 
 county ? If I had done as I felt inclined, I 
 should have rushed up to Sir Guy and shaken 
 hands with him, and then given you a host of 
 kisses. Did I not look thoroughly English 
 then r 
 
 '' You looked very charming/' said Mrs. 
 Darryll. 
 
 So she did ; and Sir Guy was looking hard 
 at her, as she sat in a most graceful attitude at 
 Mrs. Darryll's feet. Strangely enough she was 
 dressed in violet velvet, with a few simple white 
 flowers in her hair. But incongruous as such a 
 dress would have looked on most girls of her 
 age, it did' not seem so on her ; she had so 
 thoroughly the art of making whatever she wore 
 look as if it belonged to her. Wonderfully the 
 deep rich colour set off her beautiful arms and 
 shoulders, and marvellously the almost entirely 
 untrimmed dress displayed the faultless propor- 
 tions of her figure. 
 
 Dinner was announced almost immediately, 
 and Sir Guy found himself exactly opposite to 
 
 r 2
 
 212 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 Pauline. She was very quiet during dinner, 
 and he watched her with some interest. Could 
 that be the girl of whose doings he had heard 
 such strange stories ? so quiet ; even pensive ; 
 with such an almost melancholy look in her 
 beautiful eyes. Yet, at the same time, he could 
 not get the thought of a rattle-snake out of his 
 head, as he looked at her. 
 
 The moment they were in the drawing-room 
 again, Pauline was back at Mrs. Darryll's side. 
 
 " Leave mamma to entertain the old dow- 
 agers," she whispered, " and come and sit here, 
 where we can talk quietly." 
 
 She settled Mrs. Darryll among a pile of 
 cushions, and herself on the ground beside 
 her. 
 
 " My dear Miss Lisle," Mrs. Darryll began, 
 "I want to ask you a question." 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Darryll," she replied, "I have 
 a very great favour to beg. If you will grant 
 me that, I will answer any number of questions 
 you choose to ask." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " That you will call me Pauline. I hate being 
 called Miss Lisle by people I like; and you 
 know you have promised me a little reversionary 
 bit of friendship."
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 213 
 
 <* Yery well, and now answer my question. 
 What induces you, at your age, to wear 
 velvet ? " 
 
 " Doesn't it suit me ? " 
 
 " Yes, it does. I believe anything you wore 
 would suit you ; but it is such a strange dress 
 for such a young girl to choose." 
 
 *'Do you know, Mrs. Darryll, I am almost 
 ashamed to tell you the reason ; it seems such a 
 silly one. You will think me such a goose." 
 
 " No, I am sure I shall not," replied Mrs. 
 Darryll. 
 
 " Well, then, I really have no better reason 
 than this, that I hate to do just the same as 
 other people. I am sick of ringing the changes 
 on blue and pink silk and white tulle, so I 
 insisted on having this velvet. Mamma was 
 dreadfully shocked, and I was nearly suffocated 
 with laughter when I heard the chief reason." 
 
 " Why, what was it ? " 
 
 She came out with it at last — " That every one 
 who saw me would think I was married, and so 
 my prospects in life would be ruined. Wasn't 
 it the anxious mamma all over ? I only said I 
 didn't care a straw, and insisted on having the 
 dress all the same." 
 
 " You are a wilful girl," said Mrs. Darryll.
 
 214 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " I'm afraid I am ; but you don't know how 
 good I am going to be. Do promise me you 
 will scold me if I do anything naughty. I do 
 so much want those people I really like, to see 
 that I don't really deserve all that has been said 
 of me." 
 
 " I will, indeed. But you have been a model 
 of decorum all this evening." 
 
 '' Have I ? I am so glad. Do you know I 
 was just thinking, when you were talking about 
 my dress, how splendid Miss Vernon would 
 look in velvet. Don't you think she would ? " 
 
 ''Maud would look splendid in anything," 
 replied Mrs. Darryll, enthusiastically. " Cer- 
 tainly velvet would suit her to perfection." 
 
 " I am so sorry she and the dean are not 
 here to-night. I did try to get them asked, 
 though I do not think they would have come, 
 but I knew you would like to meet them here ; 
 but it was no use. You know," she added, with 
 a sigh, " poor papa has not much fancy for 
 clerical society." 
 
 " It was very good of you to think of it, dear 
 child," said Mrs. Darryll, laying her hand 
 caressingly on the soft hair. 
 
 " How frightened I should have been if they 
 had been here, all the same. I am horribly
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 215 
 
 afraid of the dean, and almost as mucli of Miss 
 Yernon's stately dignity. I always feel quite like 
 a little child when she is near." 
 
 " Ah, you would like her if you knew her 
 better. I hope you will, some day." 
 
 Pauline shook her head. " I don't know. I 
 should always admire her, but I am sure I 
 should always be afraid of her. Now Mrs. 
 Darryll," she continued, springing suddenly up 
 from the ground, and kneeling in front of her, 
 " confess that she does not like me at all. Now I 
 am going to kneel here, straight in front of you, 
 and look right into your eyes, until you answer 
 me. I can always tell, if I look straight into 
 any one's eyes, whether I am being told the 
 truth." 
 
 She folded her arms as she spoke, and looked 
 full into Mrs. Darryll's face, with an affectation of 
 intense solemnity, belied by the mocking smile 
 just quivering round her mouth. 
 
 Mrs. Darryll hesitated ; but, before she could 
 answer, Pauline's face suddenly became quite 
 grave, and she rose to her feet, with a slightly 
 heightened colour, saying — 
 
 " Do you sing, Mrs. Darryll ? I hope you do. 
 I am so fond of music." 
 
 Mrs. Darryll looked at her in astonishment,
 
 210 AnSE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 the change was almost Hke magic ; and then she 
 saw that Sir Guy was standing in the doorway 
 leading into the library, contemplating the scene. 
 
 Mrs. Lisle bore down on Mrs. Darryll at the 
 moment, with a request to be allowed to intro- 
 duce some one, and Sir Guy came up to 
 Pauline. 
 
 '^ What was going on ? " he said. *' I am 
 afraid I appeared just at the wrong moment." 
 
 " Only a little nonsense not meant for you," 
 she answered. "' I never dreamed of your coming 
 through the library." 
 
 " But what was it Isabel was to answer so 
 truly ? " 
 
 Pauline hesitated a moment, and then said 
 frankly, " I was trying to get her to admit that 
 Miss Yernon has a very bad opinion of me." 
 
 " What makes you think that ? " 
 
 " I don't think it ; I feel it. I am quite sure 
 she dislikes me very much, and I don't wonder. 
 I have no doubt she has heard very ill-natured 
 things said of me. But, to talk of something 
 more interesting, mamma tells me you are going 
 to have quite a gay party at Riverston." 
 
 " I hope so, shortly, and am thinking of 
 having a ball, by way of a kind of house- 
 warming, you know, and inauguration of myself
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 217 
 
 in my new character as a model landlord. I 
 am sorry to hear, from Mrs. Lisle, that she 
 thinks it would be too far for you to come." 
 
 " Oh, yes, quite too hr, I am very sorry, for I 
 should like so much to be there. I don't much 
 care about balls in general, but I should like to 
 be present at yours : it certainly is rather dull here 
 sometimes, but it is quite out of the question." 
 
 " Well, Isabel shall send you a card whenever 
 it is settled, in case some lucky concurrence of 
 circumstances should come to the rescue and 
 secure us the pleasure of seeing you." 
 
 " Thank you, it is very kind of you," replied 
 Pauline, demurely. 
 
 " Do you know, I am dying to ask you a 
 question. Miss Lisle," said Sir Guy, after a 
 moment's pause ; " only I am afraid you will 
 think it rather an impertinent one." 
 
 Pauline looked up with a half shy look — ''I 
 daresay I shall be able to forgive you^ if it is 
 not anything very bad." " 
 
 " Well, the fact is, you have totally routed all 
 my ideas to-night on the subject of dress. I 
 thought it was a law of the Medes and Persians 
 that only married women, or ladies of a certain 
 age, wore velvet, and I am greatly perplexed in 
 consequence. Was I wrong ? "
 
 218 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 Pauline looked round, with a merry little 
 laugh. " Ah, Mrs. Darryll is gone away. She 
 has just been taking me to task about it. No, 
 you are not wrong, it is a dreadful offence 
 against time-honoured customs. But, the fact 
 is, I am rather wilful, and I like it so much 
 better than what I call the froth one is sup- 
 posed to wear while one is young. One must 
 wear it sometimes, but I never do when I can 
 avoid it. One feels so much more real and true, 
 I think, in something substantial. Perhaps," 
 she added, '' when I am really growing an old 
 maid, I shall like the froth better than the solid 
 material." 
 
 " IVIien that happens. Yes, perhaps," said 
 Sir Guy. 
 
 " I wonder why it is people always laugh at 
 old maids ? " said Pauline, meditatively, " it 
 seems very strange. I don't see what difference 
 it can make, wdiether a woman is married or 
 not." 
 
 '' Are you partial to old maids ? " asked Sir 
 Guy, with a slight quiver of his moustache. 
 
 ** I don't know that I ever thought about it," 
 she answered frankly. " Certainly, if there is 
 one person in the world I should like to think I 
 could ever be like, it would be one who is what
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 219 
 
 is generally termed an old maid. I mean papa's 
 aunt, Miss Lisle. I should be very happy if I 
 thought I could ever be what she is ; so good, so 
 kind^ and so universally loved." 
 
 She was silent for a moment, then, with a half 
 sigh, she jumped up, saying, " We must have 
 some music. I want so much to hear Mrs. 
 Darryll sing." 
 
 She sang herself, and made others sing ; 
 moving about everywhere with perfect ease 
 and self-possession. Always graceful, always 
 quiet, and with a certain air of earnest sim- 
 plicity, with which Mrs. Darryll was enchanted. 
 
 " You are a charming little witch," she said, 
 as Pauline sat down beside her again. " I would 
 give anything to be able to be so delightfully 
 unconscious as you are." 
 
 " I unconscious ! Dear Mrs. Darryll, you 
 don't mean you think so ? Then I am a better 
 actress than I thought I was. I never felt so 
 horridly conscious in my life." 
 
 " Why, what makes you so ? " 
 
 " Your dreadful brother," replied Pauline, 
 laughing. " I know he has been watching me. 
 I could feel it all the evening." 
 
 *' Guy has a way of watching every one," 
 said his sister.
 
 220 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " Yes, I can see that ; but it is a thing I feel 
 always, and it makes me horribly nervous. I 
 always feel directly I cannot be natural." 
 
 " It is the most dreadful thing in the world," 
 replied Mrs. Darryll. " I cannot endure feeling 
 that people are looking at me. I shall take Guy 
 to task on his impertinence." 
 
 '' Oh, Mrs. Darryll ! please," said Pauline, 
 clasping her hand, with an expression of the 
 greatest distress, '' don't, don't do that. Don't, 
 I implore you, let Sir Guy Rivers know what I 
 have said ; he would not in the least understand 
 what I meant, and it would give him such a bad 
 opinion of me. Not, I mean, you know," she 
 added, colouring in the prettiest way, " that that 
 would matter ; but .... you understand what 
 I mean, don't you ? I should not like him to 
 .... to .... in plain English, to think I had 
 been thinking about him. I really didn't mean 
 to let it out at all, but I was so pleased to find I 
 had not been looking a conceited conscious fool 
 all the evening that I was thrown off my guard. 
 Don't betray me, dear Mrs. Darryll, please." 
 
 " No, I will be very discreet," answered Mrs. 
 Darryll. 
 
 An hour later Mrs. Darryll heard a tap at her 
 dressing-room door.
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 221 
 
 " Come in," she said. 
 
 " It is I, Isabel," answered Sir Guy's voice. 
 " Are you visible ? " 
 
 " Yes ; come in. I had not begun to dream 
 of going to bed yet." 
 
 Sir Guy sauntered in,» arrayed in a most 
 wonderful dressing-gown, and proceeded to 
 survey himself in the glass. 
 
 " Humjoh ! " he said, after a few moments' 
 silent contemplation, " I think that's a success ; 
 don't you, Isabel? I declare blue cashmere — 
 isn't that what they call the thing ? — is as be- 
 coming to my complexion as violet velvet is to 
 Miss Lisle's. I think I shall study complexions. 
 Blue's the thing for fair hair, and violet for 
 dark, isn't that it, Isabel ? " 
 
 " Guy, how can you be so ridiculous ? " ex- 
 claimed his sister. 
 
 " I don't think it's at all ridiculous. I'm 
 going to write to London to-morrow morning 
 for a complete suit of sky-blue velvet, to shoot 
 in next season at Riverston." 
 
 " Do be reasonable, Guy. I want to know 
 what you think of Miss Lisle." 
 
 " What do you ? " 
 
 " I think she is a charming little creature, and 
 I do really beheve her eccentricities are the
 
 222 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 result of mere girlish thoughtlessness. What 
 beautiful arms and shoulders she has, too." 
 
 " She has certainly, and gives one a good 
 opportunity of judging of them," said Sir Gruy, 
 with something between a smile and a sneer. 
 
 " Guy ! " exclaimed his sister, angrily, " you 
 have no right to speak in that way. I am sure 
 there was no fault to be found with Pauline's 
 dress." 
 
 " I daresay you didn't think so. She's a regu- 
 lar Frenchwoman in that respect. They've so 
 many dodges. If an Englishwoman takes to 
 
 that sort of thing, she looks well, in your 
 
 presence, I won't say what — but a Frenchwoman 
 does everything so adroitly. But it don't take us 
 in, you know, though it may you. She is awfully 
 pretty though, certainly, and a first-rate actress." 
 
 " And no wonder she did look rather like an 
 actress. It is only surprising she didn't look 
 more so." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Sir Guy. 
 
 " Because she was perfectly aw^are you were 
 watching her. I was sure she was, and she 
 admitted it afterwards — though, mind, she 
 begged me not to let you know that — and how 
 can any one be perfectly natural, when she knows 
 she is being watched ? "
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 223 
 
 " Ob, she did know it^ did she ? I thought 
 so!" 
 
 "Yes, and it is really too bad, Gruy. You 
 watch a girl that way till you make her 
 thoroughly nervous, and then accuse her of 
 being an actress." 
 
 " I susj3ect it would take a deal of watching 
 to make Miss Lisle nervous. But we've had 
 enough of her, and I want to talk to you about 
 Eiverston, and settle about your visit there." 
 
 Their discussion on that subject was amicable 
 enough ; which was more than could always 
 be said for consultations between the brother 
 and sister ; Sir Guy's excitable and irritable 
 disposition, and Mrs. DarrylFs egotism and con- 
 sequent want of tact, frequently bringing them 
 into violent collision. 
 
 Sir Guy Eivers went back to his room, but he 
 did not feel the least inclined to sleep ; a very 
 common occurrence with him ; so, leaning out of 
 the window, he resigned himself to a cigar and 
 contemplation. 
 
 His thoughts were a strange medley of past, 
 present, and future ; with both Maud Yernon 
 and Pauline Lisle figuring largely therein. The 
 two would keep coming up together before him : 
 Maud, with her earnest, truthful face, and calm
 
 224 W^ISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 repose, always making him feel as if she brought 
 all that was good in him into full activity. Pau- 
 line, with her grace and beauty, fascinating him 
 with a sort of syren influence, even while, to a 
 certain extent, he saw through her ; and by no 
 means caUing into operation the same part of 
 his nature which Maud did. " What a fool I 
 am ! to be so easily influenced by those around 
 me," he thought ; " I almost wish I had never 
 come here. The girl brings up just the same 
 
 feeling I had when first I met ." He did 
 
 not even mentally fill up the blank, but his brow 
 contracted, and he bit his lip, as he thought of 
 what a narrow escape he had had some years 
 since from a danger brought upon him by his 
 own rash excitability. He must, he thought, 
 shake off the tendency, it would never do. Then 
 his thoughts went back, more than ten years, to 
 the last few months of his father's life, and to 
 many long conversations they had had. Surely 
 his father must have been conscious of his weak- 
 ness, and susceptibility to external influences; 
 and that must have been what made him so 
 earnestly implore him to settle quietly at River- 
 ston as soon as possible, and to marry. And to 
 that consciousness must have been owing the 
 double earnestness with which Sir Rupert had
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 225 
 
 exhorted him to weigh long and carefully before 
 he chose a wife ; and to let no passing fancy or 
 mere outward attractions lead Kim to decide 
 rashly. Then, somehow, Maud Vernon came up 
 again, but without Pauline ; and though Sir Guy 
 declared to himself that he was not the least in 
 love, still it did occur to him that she was just 
 the sort of girl his father would have delighted 
 to see him marry ; and with the idea he seemed 
 to grow more quiet and composed, and soon 
 much more inclined to go to bed. He started, 
 as he looked at his watch, to find he had been 
 leaning out of the window for more than an 
 hour, and in ten minutes he was fast asleep. 
 
 Mrs. Lisle was suffering the next morning 
 from a severe attack of nervous headache ; at 
 least so Pauline said, with a hundred apologies to 
 Mrs. Darryll for her mother's non-appearance, 
 and^many entreaties that they would prolong 
 their visit for a few days now they were there. 
 
 " Do stay, dear Mrs. Darryll," she pleaded, 
 " at least till to-morrow. It would be so 
 charming." 
 
 " Quite impossible, dear Pauline, I assure you. 
 I promised to go down with Miss Yernon to the 
 orphan school early to-morrow morning ; we 
 should never get back in time." 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " But, surely, that is not so much conse- 
 quence as all that ? " 
 
 " No, I don't suppose it is ; but I would not 
 break even the most trifling engagement I had 
 made with Maud on any account." 
 
 " I never shall really like Miss Yernon now, 
 I am sure," said Pauline, reproachfully. 
 
 "You mustn't say a word against her," ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Darryll. 
 
 " No, I know. But we could send a note 
 over this afternoon to the deanery ; and I am 
 sure Miss Yernon would not be so selfish as to 
 grudge you to us for another day." 
 
 " Maud could never be selfish," said Mrs, 
 Darryll, energetically. 
 
 " Then, do stay ; please do." 
 " What a coaxing little creature you are." 
 " Ah ! then you will stay, won't you ? " 
 " No, indeed, I cannot." 
 
 Sir Guy had been silently watching the scene, 
 and now remarked — 
 
 " I don't see why you should not, Isabel, as 
 Miss Lisle wishes it so much. I should go over 
 to Stowminster at any rate to-day, so I could 
 take a message to Miss Yernon, and, at the same 
 time, invite myself to dine at the deanery." 
 " No, I don't like to do it," answered his sister ;
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 227 
 
 " Maud might have made her arrangements 
 expecting me, and I should not like to make her 
 change." 
 
 " Ah, well ! " said Pauline, with a pretty little 
 shrug of her shoulders, " I see I must yield. 
 You are a very obstinate woman ; but I know 
 what I will do. I will ride over beside the car- 
 riage, and then I shall see the last of you." 
 
 " No, indeed, I will not let you do that ! " 
 exclaimed Mrs. Darryll ; " it is so horrid, riding 
 beside a carriage." 
 
 '' Indeed, I like it of all things," replied Pau- 
 line ; " it is so much nicer than driving, so we 
 will go after luncheon, and I shall get back in 
 plenty of time for dinner. And now do come 
 to the drawing-room, I want to talk to you." 
 
 She carried off Mrs. Darryll, and Sir Guy and 
 Captain Lisle betook themselves to the billiard- 
 room. 
 
 The carriage was at the door, and Mr. and 
 Mrs. Darryll and Sir Guy seated, before Pauline 
 appeared. Then she came running down, in a 
 charming state of hurry and distress. 
 
 " I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, Mrs. 
 Darryll ; but my whip was lost, or I should have 
 been ready long ago. Come and put me on, 
 Hnvrv." 
 
 <i 2
 
 228 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 Most gracefully she went up into lier saddle ; 
 and a most beautiful little foot it was that just 
 peeped out for a moment, as her brother put it 
 into the stirrup and arranged her riding-habit. 
 As the groom placed her reins in her hands, he 
 said something in a low tone. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " replied Pauline, rather sharply ; 
 " papa said it was all right." 
 
 They started, Pauline riding close behind the 
 carriage, chatting and laughing merrily with 
 Mrs. Darryll. 
 
 If she looked well in the house, she looked 
 doubly well on horseback, with her splendid 
 figure and the rich colour the exercise brought 
 into her face. Her horse was a first-rate trotter, 
 and she as good a rider ; so, altogether, the 
 picture beside the carriage was a very pretty one 
 to look at, and Mr. Darryll evidently thought 
 so. Sir Gruy was moody, and seemed rather 
 inclined either to go to sleep or look out the 
 other side of the carriage. 
 
 They were little more than a couple of miles 
 from the priory when Pauline stopped to speak 
 to an acquaintance, and when she came up to the 
 side of the carriage again Mr. Darryll exclaimed — 
 
 " Hulloa ! Miss Lisle, your horse is beginning 
 to go lame, I think."
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 229 
 
 " Oh dear ! don't say so," she answered ; 
 " surely not. Yes, indeed, I believe you are 
 right. Would you mind stopping a moment 
 and letting the footman just see whether he has 
 picked up a stone. I thought I felt him tread 
 on one just now." 
 
 The footman got down, but no stone was to 
 be found. 
 
 " It can't be anything, then," said Pauline ; 
 " he must have trodden on one that hurt him 
 for a moment." 
 
 " I don't think it's that," said Sir Guy, 
 coolly ; " the groom told me, before you started, 
 til at if you trotted him all the way to S tow- 
 minster, he would be dead lame before he got 
 there." 
 
 Pauline coloured deeply, and really, as she 
 answered — 
 
 " And this is just the result of Eichard always 
 prophesying that the horses will be lamed, or 
 something ; one never believes him at all. Papa 
 said it was all right now ; of course, I don't know 
 about it. A nice scrape I am in, am I not ? " 
 she added, turning to Mrs. Darryll ; " thirteen 
 miles from home, and a horse dead lame. So 
 much for my independent habit of riding about 
 without a groom. I might have taken his horse
 
 230 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 then, and left him to bring poor Larkspur 
 home." 
 
 " G-et into the carriage now," said Mr. Darryll, 
 *^ and leave Charles to lead your horse on to the 
 priory. We will find you a horse to go home 
 upon." 
 
 " I don't think you will find that quite so 
 easy," said Sir Guy. 
 
 *' Why not?" 
 
 " Isabel's horse is ill, and I don't suppose you 
 propose putting Miss Lisle on that mad beast of 
 yours, and sending her riding over the country 
 alone." 
 
 " No, by the bye, I forgot that." 
 
 " Oh dear, what a lot of trouble I am giving 
 you!" exclaimed Pauline, in a tone of distress; 
 " I am so sorry." 
 
 " There is no trouble at all," said Mrs. Darryll ; 
 " it is easily settled. We can catch the postman 
 passing, and get him to leave a note for Mrs. 
 Lisle, to say what has happened ; and then you 
 can stay at the priory all night, and I will drive 
 you home to-morrow." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, dear Mrs. Darryll ; how kind 
 of you to propose it ! " 
 
 So Pauline got into the carriage, and the lame 
 horse was left in the hands of the footman, to
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 231 
 
 bring on to the priory — where he seemed likely 
 to remain for some time, to judge by his appear- 
 ance when he got there. 
 
 Sir Guy did not speak again during the drive, 
 and when they got out of the carriage he turned 
 away, saying to his sister — 
 
 " Don't wait, if I am not in by dinner-time." 
 
 " Where are you going ?" she asked. 
 
 " To the deanery." 
 
 " Are you going to dine there ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 In a few minutes he walked into the drawing- 
 room at the deanery. " Miss Yernon," he said, 
 abruptly, " is the dean at home ? " 
 
 " Not at present," she answered, 
 
 " Will he be at home at dinner ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then may I come and dine here ? " 
 
 Maud looked up at him for a moment, and then 
 said, quietly — 
 
 " Certainly, if you wish it." 
 
 " I thank you — I do very much. Seven 
 o'clock, is it not ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Thanks very much," he said, and was 
 gone. 
 
 " What is the matter now, I wonder," thought
 
 232 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 Maud ; " I hope he and Isabel have not been 
 quarrelKng." 
 
 Sir Guy appeared at dinner time, and seemed 
 more like himself again. "Stay a moment," 
 said the dean when he rose to leave, "I want 
 you to take a book for your sister which I 
 promised to lend her." 
 
 He went into the library as he spoke, and Sir 
 Guy, turning to Maud, said : " I'm afraid I was 
 very like a bear this afternoon, was I not. Miss 
 Vernon ? " 
 
 " You were very like yourself/' she answered, 
 laughing. 
 
 " I was horribly put out." Then after a pause 
 he abruptly asked, " Is it very cowardly to run 
 away from danger ? " 
 
 "I think it is foolhardy to run into it need- 
 lessly," answered Maud; "but if it came to me 
 I think I should like to meet it boldly." 
 
 " But suppose you dare not trust yourself?" 
 
 "Then, I suppose the strength of weakness 
 must lie in flight." 
 
 " Ah ! " he said thoughtfully, and looking 
 rather sad, " strength ; yes, there's the rub. 
 You don't know your own advantages, Miss 
 Yernon." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" she asked.
 
 SIR GUY RIVERS AT ATHERLEY. 233 
 
 ** What I say," he replied, turning away as 
 the dean re-entered the room. But as he wished 
 Maud good night, he said in a low, half bitter 
 tone, *' Thank Grod, every day of your life. Miss 
 YerDon, for your mental and moral structure, 
 and feel for those less highly favoured/' 
 
 Before she could answer, he was gone. 
 
 " Where's Gruy ? " asked Mr. Darryll, when 
 he came down to breakfast the next morning. 
 
 " You may well ask," replied his wife. *' He 
 went off to Riverston about eight o'clock this 
 morning." 
 
 " What on earth made him do that ? " 
 
 " A very useless question, my dear Edgar. 
 Who could account for Guy's wild freaks ? 
 Now, my dear Pauline, what am I to do with 
 you ? You cannot go tramping all about the 
 town in your riding habit ; and, you know, 
 I must go with Miss Yernon to the orphan 
 school." 
 
 " Oh, please don't think of me. I shall do 
 quite well with a book till you come home." 
 
 Mrs. Darryll settled Pauline with the last 
 new novel, and then went off to keep her 
 appointment with Maud. But Pauline did not 
 read, she only sat idle with the book before 
 her, nor did the expression of her face seem to
 
 234 WISE AS A SERPEN-T. 
 
 imply that her thoughts were very satisfactory. 
 But, Hke a flash, the dissatisfied look passed, and 
 the bright happy one came back, when Mrs. 
 Darryll entered. 
 
 " How did you like the book," she asked. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Darryll, don't scold me ; but I 
 have not read a word." 
 
 " Why, what have you been doing ? " 
 
 " Dreaming a day-dream," she answered, in a 
 pensive tone. 
 
 " A bright one, I hope, then." 
 
 " A mixed one," she replied ; and, after 
 luncheon, she went home again.
 
 MRS. WELLWOOD. 235 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MRS. WELLWOOD IS MORE TRANSPARENT THAN 
 SHE SUPPOSES. 
 
 It was with no small satisfaction that the good 
 old vicar of Eiverston, Mr. Wellwood, had heard, 
 at the time of Isabel Elvers' marriage, from Sir 
 Guy's steward, that in future Eiverston hall 
 was to be his master's principal home. One of 
 the last acts of Sir Eupert Eivers' life had been 
 to present Mr. Wellwood to the living of Eiver- 
 ston, and he had found his parish suffering 
 under all the disadvantages of a non-resident 
 landlord when he arrived there ; disadvantages, 
 which ten years more of the same state of things 
 had certainly not rendered less apparent. He 
 had hoped for some change when Sir Guy 
 came of age, but had been disappointed. Beyond 
 occasional visits of a few days, followed by spas- 
 modic attempts at improvement, when Sir Guy's 
 conscience smote him, as he saw personally how
 
 236 MRS. WELLWOOD IS MORE TRANSPARENT 
 
 much his tenantry suffered from his carelessness, 
 everything had continued in the same state as 
 before. It was well for Sir Guy that his steward 
 was an honest man, or he would have probably 
 found cause to rue severely his hatred to any- 
 thing like business. 
 
 Now it seemed as if a complete change had 
 come over Sir Guy. He had indeed, as he told 
 his sister, been working very hard ; and when 
 he did make up his mind to set about anything, 
 he did it with an energy which carried every- 
 thing before it. Leases were looked into, abuses 
 corrected, cottages repaired, and Sir Guy de- 
 clared by his tenantry to be really like a Rivers. 
 
 " But, surely," Mr. Well wood said, to an old 
 pensioner of the family who energetically ex- 
 pressed this opinion, " the Riverses have been, for 
 long, rather remarkable for acting very differ- 
 ently from the way in which Sir Guy is acting 
 now." 
 
 " Not until Sir Rupert's time, sir. Never be- 
 fore that. I ought to know, for I can remember 
 Sir Rupert's father, and grandfather too." 
 
 " So I've heard you say," replied Mr. Well- 
 wood. " But it seems hardly possible." 
 
 *' It is so, indeed, sir. I can just remember 
 old Sir Guy, Sir Rupert's grandfather. I was
 
 . THAN SHE SUPPOSES. 237 
 
 but a little cliap when he died; but I often 
 heard my father tell of him, and what a land- 
 lord he was. Why, there wasn't a cottage on 
 the property he did not know all about. There 
 never was a man more loved than he was. He'd 
 been squire here for more than forty years ; and 
 I'd lay there wasn't a dry eye in the village 
 the day of his funeral. Then Sir Bertram, Sir 
 Rupert's father, was just like him ; but he didn't 
 live very long, and then came Sir Rupert. He 
 began well enough ; aye ! but he was a hand- 
 some merry lad, and as kind hearted a one as 
 ever breathed ; but people do say as something 
 went terribly wrong. At any rate^ everything 
 went wrong here till he came back with Lady 
 Clara, and then every one thought the old times 
 were back again, but it didn't last; and, since 
 then, everything has been going back, I think, 
 till now. You see I can make it all out clear, 
 sir. My memory is better for what happened 
 long since than for what happens now. Thank 
 Grod ! I've lived to see things looking better 
 here before I die. It's lain heavy on my heart 
 to think of it." 
 
 " Did Sir Rupert never come back after Lady 
 Clara's death ? " asked Mr. Wellwood. 
 
 " Never, sir. I was gamekeeper then, and he
 
 238 MKS. WELLWOOD IS MORE TRANSPARENT 
 
 sent for me to come up to the hall, a few days 
 after she was buried, and I declare, I don't think, 
 if I'd met him without expecting to see him, I'd 
 have known him. He looked awful. He gave 
 me his orders, short, hard, and cold, and then 
 said I might go ; but, just as I got to the door, 
 he called me back, and his face worked a bit, 
 and then he said — ' You're an old and faithful 
 servant, Lawrence, and we mustn't part this way. 
 You'll never see me again, but when you feel 
 you are getting too old for the work, you have 
 only to say so, and you'll find there's a cottage 
 and a pension for you. Good-bye.' He held out 
 his hand, and I took it, but I couldn't have 
 spoken for my life. And, sure enough, I never 
 saw him again." 
 
 " Was he so very much attached to Lady 
 Clara, then ? " asked Mr. Wellwood, rather sur- 
 prised at finding the old man so communicative ; 
 for he was generally rather mysterious about the 
 Eiverses. 
 
 " Attached to her ! " repeated the old man, 
 " that wasn't the word for it. He just worshipped 
 the ground she trod on." 
 
 " It must have been an awful blow to him." 
 
 " I believe he never held up his head again, 
 sir. But, after nil, perhaps it was better so."
 
 THAN SHE SUPPOSES. 239 
 
 " What was better ? " asked Mr. Well wood. 
 
 " Better that Lady Clara did die." 
 
 " What makes you say that ? " 
 
 " Because, as you often tell us, sir, what God 
 does must be best ; we can't tell. That was all 
 I meant." 
 
 Mr. Wellwood did not quite believe that ; 
 but the old man's communicative fit was evi- 
 dently over, and he knew there was nothing 
 more to be had out of him. 
 
 " It really is quite delightful to see the im- 
 provement already in the state of the village,'' 
 Mr. Wellwood said afterwards to his wife. 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " we only want one thing 
 more now." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " A lady at the halL" 
 
 " Ah, in due time," replied the vicar. You 
 may depend upon it, if Sir Gruy settles down 
 here, it will not be very long before that comes 
 to pass." 
 
 " I wish it might," said Mrs. Wellwood, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 The vicar thought it was very likely to come 
 to pass. He had met Sir Guy that very morn- 
 ing, and congratulated him on the success of his 
 labours, adding —
 
 240 MRS. WELLWOOD IS MORE TRANSPARENT 
 
 " There is only one thing more, now." 
 
 " What is that ? " asked Sir Guy. 
 
 " Tha't you should get the hall itself into 
 order." 
 
 "The very thing I am just going to set 
 about," he replied ; and entered immediately 
 into a description of all he intended doing. A 
 description to which the vicar was a delighted 
 listener ; for surely, he thought, be cannot 
 intend doing all that, merely to lead a bachelor 
 life there ; and he had seen enough of Sir Guy 
 to make him wish much to see him well married, 
 and quietly settled at Riverston. 
 
 They were a quiet, simple old couple, the 
 vicar and his wife, with no family of their own. 
 They had adopted, and brought up entirely, 
 the only child of Mr. Wellwood's only brother ; 
 but he had been for some years in a govern- 
 ment office in London^ and the vicarage had 
 grown to look very solemn and quiet ; only 
 enlivened, occasionally, by a visit from Frank 
 Wellwood, or, still more rarely, by one from 
 Mrs. Lisle or Pauline. Mrs. Lisle had been 
 rather a source of trouble in years gone by to 
 her aunt. Though Mrs. Wellwood's gentle 
 nature made her very disinclined to judge 
 harshly of any one, she could not but condemn
 
 THAN SHE SUPPOSES. 241 
 
 some of her niece's proceedings strongly, and 
 had greatly rejoiced to see how, with years, 
 more wisdom, at least so she thought, had come. 
 She had been very fond of Pauline when a 
 child, and terribly distressed at the Paris scheme ; 
 unnecessarily, she thought now, judging by the 
 little she had seen of her great-niece since she 
 had been at home. 
 
 ^' She is a dear, gentle, affectionate girl," she 
 reported to her husband after a few days' visit 
 to Atherley Park, and not half so much spoiled 
 by being educated abroad as I feared she would 
 be. She is much more quiet and unaffected than 
 Louisa was herself at her age." 
 
 So Pauline was established in her aunt's good 
 graces ; having, it may be mentioned in passing, 
 received a hint from her mother that Mrs. Well- 
 wood had a few thousands, the ultimate desti- 
 nation of which was entirely in her own hands ; 
 with the further information, that the old lady 
 was a desperate fidget about propriety. A 
 simple-minded, gentle, kind-hearted old lady, 
 possessed of an adopted son, whom she thought 
 absolutely perfect, and who was, in truth, a 
 manly, honest, straightforward young fellow ; 
 and of a great-niece, only a few years younger 
 than the same, of whom she had also a very 
 
 VOL. I. li
 
 242 MRS. WELLWOOD IS MORE TRANSPARENT 
 
 good Opinion. And what would, or .rather 
 what must be, the result? Every woman in 
 the world has a certain tendency, though it 
 may never be developed, towards match-making ; 
 and good old Mrs. Wellwood had had some 
 visions on the subject. It would be so charm- 
 ing to see a union brought about between the 
 only two people in the world for whom she and 
 the vicar really cared, and would make the 
 settlement of her own and his property so easy. 
 Yes, it would certainly be delightful if it could 
 be brought to pass ; but no one, not even the 
 vicar, must be allowed to dream of what was 
 passing in her mind. Men were so incautious, 
 and the slightest hint on the subject might ruin 
 all. So Mrs. Wellwood nursed her little scheme 
 in secret, and had had, as yet, no opportunity of 
 doing anything more. 
 
 The very day after that on which Sir Guy 
 Eivers so abruptly quitted the priory before 
 breakfast, Mrs. Wellwood, when she came down 
 stairs in the morning, found a letter waiting for 
 her from her adopted son. 
 
 "Oh, this is charming ! " she exclaimed, when 
 she had read it. 
 
 " What is charming ? " asked her husband. 
 
 " Frank is coming down for a fortnight. He
 
 THAN SHE SUPPOSES. 243 
 
 will just be in time for the festivities at tlie hall. 
 It will not be quite so dull for him, poor fellow. 
 Is there to be a very large party at the hall ? " 
 
 " I don't know, I am sure." 
 
 **I wish Sir Guy had asked the Lisles to 
 come," said Mrs. Wellwood, meditatively. 
 
 Mr. Wellwood looked up in some surprise. 
 Neither he nor his wife were ignorant of the 
 fact that Mr, Lisle was in no favour, generally, 
 in the county. 
 
 " Why you know there is not the least chance 
 of that," he said. 
 
 " No, I know ; but I regret it, for Pauline's 
 sake. It must be rather dull for her at Atherley, 
 and I don't like to think of her having no 
 society except what is to be had there." 
 
 "It is certainly not the best place in the 
 world for a young girl," said Mr. Wellwood ; 
 " but it can't be helped." 
 
 " No, I suppose not," replied Mrs. Wellwood, 
 with a sigh ; and there the subject dropped. 
 
 It dropped from discussion, that is to say, and 
 from the vicar's mind, but not by any means 
 from his wife's. She thought a great deal about 
 it, and had, in truth, been playing the hypocrite^ 
 as far as that was possible with her, in her 
 conversation with her husband — not as to facts, 
 
 R 2
 
 244 MRS. WELLWOOD IS MORE TRANSPAREN'T 
 
 but as to motives. She did very much wish 
 Pauline had been nearer at the moment, but 
 not exactly because she thought Atherley dull 
 for her, or because the society there was objec- 
 tionable ; and she was revolving in her mind 
 whether it would be prudent or not to ask her 
 to come and stay at the vicarage for a little, 
 when the sound of horse's hoofs on the gravel 
 made her look up, and there was Pauline herself. 
 A somewhat uncomplimentary proverbial remark 
 would possibly have risen to most people's 
 minds, but such • thoughts never came to Mrs. 
 Wellwood, and she only threw up the window, 
 exclaiming — 
 
 " My dear Pauline ! I am so glad to see 
 you." 
 
 " Are you, auntie, dear ? I am so glad, too, 
 then ; for I am come to stay all day, if you will 
 let me." 
 
 " Let you, indeed ! I shall be only too glad 
 to have you. Why, how early you must have 
 left home ; I declare it is not quite eleven yet." 
 
 " I wanted to have a long day with you," 
 replied Pauline. 
 
 " You are a dear good child. Wait one mo- 
 ment, till I ring for some one to take your 
 horse."
 
 THAN BHE SUPPOSES. 245 
 
 " No, don't do that ; I can ride him round to 
 the stable myself. Don't you take any trouble, 
 auntie." 
 
 In a few minutes she came in and bestowed a 
 fond kiss on her aunt, who was quite in a little 
 flutter of delight at this most unexpectedly for- 
 tunate accident. 
 
 " Do you know, your uncle and I were talking 
 about you at breakfast this morning ?" 
 
 " Were you ? "What were you saying about 
 me?" 
 
 " That we wished there was a chance of your 
 coming in for some of the festivities at the hall." 
 
 " Oh, we are quite too far for that, and I really 
 don't care about it either. That's not what I 
 want, auntie." 
 
 " What do you want, then, dear child ?" 
 
 "I don't know what, myself; I only know 
 that I am very unhappy sometimes." 
 
 Mrs. Wellwood was interested immediately. 
 " What makes you unhappy ?" she asked. 
 
 " That's just what I don't know myself; but I 
 think it must be for want of something to do. 
 I have felt it so often since I came home. I feel 
 as if I was no use to any one." 
 
 " But you might find a way to be useful, dear." 
 
 " I'm not sure of that, auntie," she added, half
 
 246 MRS. WELLWOOD IS MORE TRANSPAREXT 
 
 bitterly ; " there's no denying the fact that people 
 don't expect any good from Atherley Park. I 
 feel it more and more every day." 
 
 Mrs. Wellwood sighed, but made no answer. 
 The fact certainly neither admitted of doubt nor 
 needed confirmation. 
 
 " That is just what brought me over here this 
 morning. I have had a momentary glimpse of 
 a better sort of life, and it made me feel the dif- 
 ference so much." 
 
 " How was that, my child ?" 
 
 Pauline explained how they had made ac- 
 quaintance with the Darrylls and Sir Guy Rivers, 
 and told Mrs. Wellwood of her compulsory visit 
 to the priory. 
 
 " It made me feel the difi(erence so much 
 between my life and theirs. There were Mrs. 
 Darryll and Miss Yernon, such firm friends, and 
 interested in things in Stowminster, and occupied, 
 and happy. Oh, auntie, I wish I was of any use 
 to any one ! " 
 
 " Then you saw Sir Gruy Rivers ? " said Mrs. 
 Wellwood, rather absently ; " did you like him ? " 
 
 Pauline looked rather sharply at her for a mo- 
 ment ; but the old lady was knitting, with a most 
 imperturbable countenance. 
 
 " I am not quite sure," she replied ; " I think
 
 THAN SHE SUPPOSES. 247 
 
 I did upon the whole, but I had hardly any oppor- 
 tunity of judging. Mrs. Darryll is charming, 
 though — I like her so much." 
 
 They chatted on for some time ; but it did not 
 escape Pauline's notice that Mrs. Wellwood was 
 rather absent. More than once her answers 
 were very wide of the mark, and evidently her 
 thoughts were rather pre-occupied. The good 
 old lady fancied herself a deep schemer ; but she 
 was a very transparent one* 
 
 " Why, Pauline ! " exclaimed Mr. Wellwood, 
 when he came into luncheon, " you here ? I 
 could not think who it could be. That, surely, 
 is not your horse in the stable ? " 
 
 "No, indeed," she said, "poor Larkspur is 
 hard and fast at the priory ;" and she told her 
 uncle what had happened. 
 
 " Dear, dear, how unfortunate ! " exclaimed 
 Mrs. Wellwood; "when did that happen?" 
 
 " Why, auntie, I told you all about it this 
 morning." 
 
 " Did you, dear ? Well, really, I didn't notice 
 it; I must have been thinking of something 
 else." 
 
 Again Pauline looked sharply at her for a 
 moment ; but she did not speak. 
 
 " I can tell you all about the hall arrange-
 
 248 MRS. AVELLWOOD IS MORE TRANSPARENT 
 
 merits now," said Mr. Wellwood ; " I have just 
 been talking to Sir Guy." 
 
 " What are they?" asked his wife. 
 
 " There is not to be a very large party in the 
 house. The dean and Miss Vernon are coming, 
 and Mrs. Darryll said she thought her brother 
 had better ask some other young ladies, as per- 
 haps Miss Yernon would not care to be the only 
 one, so Mr. and Mrs. Feversham and their two 
 daughters are going ; and that, with some few 
 stray comers, makes up the party in the house. 
 But there is to be a ball and all kinds of fes- 
 tivities." 
 
 " How nice the place looks now," said Pauline. 
 
 " Yes ; isn't it different from what it was ? " 
 said Mrs. Wellwood. 
 
 " I suppose it is ; but, do you know, auntie, I 
 never saw the hall till this morning." 
 
 " Never saw it ! " exclaimed her aunt. 
 
 " No, indeed ; at least, not that I can re- 
 member. We never come that way from 
 Atherley, because of the hill ; but I rode round 
 there this morning, on purpose to look at it." 
 
 Pauline sat talking to Mrs. Wellwood the 
 greater part of the afternoon, occasionally 
 bringing up her lamentations on the state of 
 things at Atherley again, which did not, how-
 
 THAN SHE SUPPOSES, 249 
 
 ever, seem to interest Mrs. Wellwood as much 
 as anything connected with Pauline generally 
 did. At last Pauline said — 
 
 " I must really go. The days are closing in 
 so fast, it will be dark now before I reach home. 
 May I ring for my horse ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear, if you really must go." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I must ; I wish I could stay 
 longer." 
 
 " Pauline, my dear child," said Mrs. Well- 
 wood, laying down her knitting and looking 
 very earnestly at her, " would you like to come 
 and stay here for a little ? You would be useful 
 enough then, for you could do all kinds of things 
 for me in the parish, and your bright face would 
 cheer up the house delightfully." 
 
 "Like it? Oh, auntie!" and Pauline's eyes 
 were positively full of tears ; " I should like it 
 of all things." 
 
 " Then do come^ dear, and stay for a week or 
 two." 
 
 Pauline's only answer was to throw her arms 
 round Mrs. Wellwood's neck and kiss her. 
 
 " You are a dear good child," said her aunt, 
 returning her embrace. 
 
 " And you are the best and kindest of aunts," 
 replied Pauline.
 
 250 MRS. WELL WOOD IS MORE TRANSPARENT 
 
 '' By the bye," said Mrs. Wellwood, after a 
 moment's pause, in a tone she intended should 
 be very unconcerned, " did I tell you that Frank 
 is coming here directly for a visit ? " 
 
 A sudden flush passed over Pauline's face as 
 Mrs. Wellwood spoke. 
 
 " No, you did not," she said. 
 
 " Oh, did I not ? I thought — I mean I in- 
 tended to do so, and, by the bye, Pauline, if you 
 come next week he will be here^ and then it will 
 not be quite so dull for you." 
 
 " I don't care a bit about that, auntie ; I only 
 want to feel I am of some use to some one. 
 Don't you think I had better put off coming 
 until Frank is gone ? You won't be dull while 
 he is here, and I should be of more use to cheer 
 you up a little afterwards." 
 
 " No, no, my dear," said Mrs. Wellwood, " I 
 had rather you came at once ; it won't be quite 
 so dull for Frank then. Not that I wanted you 
 to come for him at all, you know ; but it will be 
 pleasanter for you both." 
 
 " Yes, I quite understand," replied Pauline. 
 *' Very well, I will come next week. I should 
 like to see Frank, too. I have not seen him 
 since we used to fight and quarrel as little 
 children."
 
 THAN SHE SUPPOSES. 251 
 
 " Ah, he is a dear good fellow, and has been 
 a good son to us," said Mrs. Well wood. " But, 
 Pauline, dear, I don't like all you said about 
 being unhappy at home," and Mrs. Wellwood, 
 apparently satisfied upon whatever point had 
 been occupying her thoughts, discussed Pauline's 
 troubles with the deepest interest, until her horse 
 came to the door. 
 
 " Grood-bye, dear, dear auntie," said Pauline. 
 " I shall go home much happier than I came 
 away this morning." 
 
 " What a dear good child she is ! " thought 
 Mrs. Wellwood, as she watched her riding 
 slowly down the lane. " She is worthy of a 
 better lot than hers. I only hope a change 
 may not be far distant. I couldn't have believed 
 a girl, brought up as she has been, could have 
 been so little injured by her education ; and she 
 certainly is beautiful. I think Frank is sure to 
 
 fall in love, and " but here Mrs. Wellwood's 
 
 thoughts suddenly went off into dreamland, with 
 as much ardour as if she had been sixteen, instead 
 of nearly seventy. 
 
 And very much more of youthful freshness 
 there was, too, in her visions, than in the 
 thoughts of Pauline Lisle as she rode home. 
 
 " Dear old simpleton," she thought, "that's
 
 252 MRS. WELLWOOD IS MORE TRANSPARENT 
 
 what she has got into her head, is it ? " And 
 then she, too, thought a great deal ; but they 
 were extremely practical thoughts, without one 
 grain of romance in them, simply amounting 
 to a steady consideration of her position, from 
 every probable, or even possible point of view, 
 in order that she might hold all her threads 
 clear, and be prepared for every possible con- 
 tingency or entanglement of circumstances which 
 might arise. Would this new aspect of affairs 
 complicate her schemes, or render them more 
 manageable ? She was forced to admit that she 
 could not very well tell, and had by no means 
 arrived at any conclusion on the subject when 
 she reached home. 
 
 " Mamma," she said, as soon as she and her 
 mother were alone in the evening, " I am going 
 to stay with Aunt Wellwood next week." 
 
 " You are a clever child," said her mother, 
 with an approving smile. 
 
 " Not in this case, mamma, Aunt Wellwood 
 is very anxious I should come." 
 
 " Is she ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Pauline, in the same calm 
 tone. " Frank is coming down, and she wants 
 to get up a match between us." 
 
 " Pauline ! impossible ! "
 
 THA^ SHE SUPPOSES. 253 
 
 '* Perhaps ; but quite true, nevertheless.*' 
 " My dear child ! you must be dreaming." 
 '' It is no dream^ mamma. Aunt Wellwood 
 was quite absent, and unlike herself, when I 
 first got there, and never said a word about 
 Frank's coming, though you know quite well 
 how full she always is of it whenever she 
 expects him. She never mentioned his name 
 until I had said I would go there, and then she 
 tried to say, quite unconcernedly, that he was 
 coming ; but it was a dead failure ; so, just to 
 try her, I proposed to put off going until he 
 was gone, and she wouldn't hear of it. When 
 it was all settled, she was quite like herself 
 again." 
 
 " How very absurd ! " exclaimed Mrs. Lisle. 
 Pauline made no answer, but went on reading 
 her book for a little, then she spoke again — 
 " Mamma, has Uncle Wellwood much money ? " 
 '* No, certainly not. That is to say," she 
 added, after a moment's pause, "not a great 
 deal. Still, he and Aunt Louisa, between them, 
 have enough to be worth having." 
 
 Not another word passed, but when Pauline 
 balanced her mental accounts that night she did 
 not feel quite so cast down about her day wasted 
 at the priory, and her favourite horse lamed for
 
 254 MRS. WELLWOOD IS MORE TRANSPARENT 
 
 nothing. She would have been in a very con- 
 tented frame of mind, had it not been for the 
 fact that the dean and Maud were going to stay 
 at River ston hall; that she did not like. But 
 suddenly an idea came to her on that subject as 
 well, and the next morning, as soon as breakfast 
 was over, she asked her mother whether she was 
 going out. 
 
 " No, I am not going out at all to-day." 
 
 " Then, may I have the carriage ? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear. Where are you going ? " 
 
 " To Stowminster." 
 
 " My dear child," remonstrated Mrs. Lisle. 
 " Riding all the way to Riverston and back 
 yesterday, and taking the carriage all that 
 distance to-day, will never do. You will have 
 your father in a way about the horses." 
 
 " Never mind that, mamma. I will settle 
 it with him, if you don't want the carriage. 
 I want to see how Larkspur is, so I will stop 
 there, and then the carriage can go on, and the 
 horses rest for an hour at the hotel, while I do 
 some things I want to do." 
 
 Pauline carried her point, somehow, with her 
 father, and set off. 
 
 " You are just in time," Mrs. Darryll said. 
 " We are off to Riverston after luncheon."
 
 THAN SHE SUPPOSES. 255 
 
 " But I didn't come to see you, I came to see 
 Larkspur." 
 
 " Ah, poor Larkspur is very bad," replied 
 Mrs. Darryll. " They say he won't be able to 
 go home for a week at least. Our coachman 
 says you must have been mad to trot him 
 all that distance, with his foot in the state it 
 was." 
 
 " Well, papa said he was all right again, and 
 that I might ride him safely ; but I mustn't keep 
 you, if you are going this afternoon." 
 
 " You are not keeping me ; besides, you have 
 sent the carriage away, have you not ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am going to walk down to S tow- 
 minster to execute some commissions, and then 
 pick up the carriage at the hotel." 
 
 " Then just stay to luncheon, and we will 
 drop you, as we drive through on our way to 
 Riverston." 
 
 This exactly suited Pauline, and was a greater 
 stroke of luck than she expected. 
 
 " How long are you going to stay at River- 
 ston ? " she asked. 
 
 " Until Guy and I quarrel, I suppose," replied 
 Mrs. Darryll, laughing, " and that event always 
 happens by the time we have been a month in 
 each other's society."
 
 256 MRS. WELLWOOD IS MORE TRAIfSPARENT 
 
 " I can't understand any one quarrelling with 
 you," said Pauline. 
 
 " It's not always so very hard, I can tell you, 
 and I think any one would find it easy to 
 quarrel with Guy, he is so dreadfully provoking 
 sometimes." 
 
 " When do the dean anot Miss Yernon go to 
 Eiverston ? " Pauline asked. 
 
 " The end of next week. I am going to settle 
 everything about the ball first, and the people 
 who are coming to stay in the house will come 
 afterwards." 
 
 " How long are they going to stay there ? " 
 
 " I am not quite sure. Maud wanted to 
 stipulate for only a formal three days' visit, 
 but I told her I would not hear of that. I 
 shall make them stay as long as I can. I don't 
 much care about going to Eiverston myself, so 
 it will be something to have Maud there." 
 
 " Do you know," said Pauline, " I came over 
 to-day intending to ask you a question about 
 Miss Vernon ; and, now I am here, I am afraid to 
 ask it. I don't know whether to think it prudent 
 or not. I'm afraid I do foolish things some- 
 times. I don't think I have much judgment." 
 
 " You needn't be afraid, dear, unless it is 
 anything against Maud."
 
 THAN SHE SUPPOSES. 257 
 
 " Oh, no, nothing ; but " 
 
 She paused and looked quite uncertain whether 
 to go on. 
 
 " But what ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't know whether I am right or 
 not to tell you, but I think perhaps you could 
 give me authority to contradict the story ; and 
 I have such a respect for Miss Yernon, I don't 
 like to hear it said ; but, the fact is, I have 
 heard people say that, some years ago, she was 
 rather in love with Mr. Darryll, and " 
 
 She stopped short, for Mrs. Darryll was in a 
 violent fit of laughter — 
 
 " You may tell all the world it is the most 
 absurd story that ever was got up. I had heard 
 something, but Maud told me all about that." 
 
 " I am so glad to hear you say so. I shall be 
 so glad to be able to contradict it, and say I 
 have really good reason for knowing that it is 
 not true." 
 
 Pauline set that down to the account of arrows 
 that had gone astray, and so it had, from want 
 of knowledge of the situation. She had not 
 yet, at least, got a near enough view of Mrs. 
 Darryll's weak side to know exactly how to 
 reach it. 
 
 Mrs. Lisle's mind was slightly disturbed by 
 
 TOT,. T. s
 
 258 MRS. WELLWOOD IS MORE TRANSPARENT 
 
 what Pauline had told her the previous even- 
 ing, after her return from Eiverston, and began 
 almost to regret that her daughter had promised 
 to go to the vicarage the following week. She 
 remembered Frank Wellwood perfectly well, 
 though she had not seen him for some years, 
 and that remembrance was of a good-looking, 
 good-humoured young fellow, with an abundant 
 supply of spirits, and altogether rather dan- 
 gerously attractive. In spite of the excellent 
 training Pauline had received at the hands of 
 Madame Delpierre, her mother reflected that she 
 was but twenty ; a mere girl, just at the age for 
 romance. It would be most unfortunate if, at 
 the very moment when Mrs. Lisle was begin- 
 ning to entertain hopes that a vision — which 
 had more than once presented itself before her, 
 but which she had always hitherto looked upon 
 as one of the wildest of castles in the air — might 
 be within the bounds of possibility, a little foolish 
 romance on Pauline's part should ruin all. The 
 more she thought, the more uneasy she grew, 
 until at last she determined to give her child a 
 little maternal counsel on the subject ; so, the 
 evening before she was to leave home, she began, 
 but very cautiously — 
 " Pauline, my child — "
 
 THAN SHE SUPPOSES. 259 
 
 Pauline was sitting in her usual attitude of 
 studied repose, with her eyes half-shut, doing 
 nothing. Under ordinary circumstances she 
 would have answered her mother without raising 
 her eyes ; but when Mrs. Lisle began a sentence 
 with " Pauline, my child," the child knew by 
 experience that it portended something more 
 than mere after-dinner chat; so she looked up 
 at her mother for a moment, and then said, as 
 she dropped her eyes again — 
 
 " What is it, mamma ? " 
 
 " How long do you mean to stay at Eiver- 
 ston, my dear ? " 
 
 " I don't know how long Aunt Wellwood 
 expects me to stay. Do you want me to come 
 back at any particular time ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. Stay as long as you like, my love, 
 only I'm afraid you will find it rather dull." 
 
 " I don't think so, mamma. I have no doubt 
 I shall find plenty to do." 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know what you can find to 
 do there," said Mrs. Lisle. 
 
 " I had a note from Aunt Wellwood this 
 morning," Pauline remarked, without noticing 
 her mother's answer. " She wants me to bring 
 a horse over with me, that I may be able to 
 ride." 
 
 s 2
 
 260 MRS. WELLWOOD IS MORE TRANSPARENT 
 
 " My dear child, I don't see how it can be 
 managed, as Larkspur is lame. Your father 
 would never consent to let you take one of the 
 others." 
 
 " It's no consequence," replied Pauline. " I 
 don't care to have a horse there. In fact I 
 think it will be better that I should not." 
 
 Mrs. Lisle rather wondered why, considering 
 how fond Pauline was of riding, and how re- 
 markably well she looked on horseback; but 
 she did not say anything about it. 
 
 " Do you know how long Frank Wellwood is 
 going to stay at Eiverston, my child ? " 
 
 This, then, was the subject really occupying 
 her mother's thoughts, though why, Pauline 
 could not imagine. 
 
 " I think Aunt Wellwood said about a fort- 
 night," she answered. 
 
 " How long is it since you have seen him, 
 Pauline ? " 
 
 " How long, mamma ? Not since we were 
 both little children, I believe ; certainly not since 
 I first went to Paris^ six years ago." 
 
 " He is a very nice young fellow, I must say," 
 replied Mrs. Lisle ; " but, Pauline, my child, do 
 you know I am rather distressed at this idea, 
 which you tell me your aunt has taken into
 
 THAN SHE SUPPOSES. 261 
 
 her head, about getting up a match between 
 you." 
 
 "Why? "asked Pauline. 
 
 Mrs. Lisle almost shuddered. Could it be 
 possible that the idea seemed attractive, even to 
 Pauline herself ? Her mother was frightened into 
 speaking more plainly than she had intended. 
 
 " Why, my dear child, you know, as I have 
 often told you, your future life must depend on 
 what sort of a marriage you make. Now, love- 
 marriages are all very well in their way, for 
 those who can afford them ; but it is no use, for 
 those who can't, to think about them ; and I tell 
 you plainly it's no use for you to think of such 
 a thing." 
 
 " I know that, quite well, mamma." 
 
 ^' And you know, my love, you are very beaur 
 tiful." 
 
 "Yes, I know that quite well, too," replied 
 Pauline, calmly. 
 
 Mrs. Lisle did not think it necessary to point 
 the moral of her remarks, she only added — 
 
 " Well, I hope, by the way you speak, my 
 fears are groundless. But I did feel a little 
 nervous at the thought of you and Frank Well- 
 wood staying at the vicarage together. I should 
 think he is very likely to fall in love."
 
 262 MRS. WELL WOOD IS MORE TRANSPARENT 
 
 " Not improbable, I daresay," replied Pau- 
 line. " Men are sad fools about that kind of 
 thing." 
 
 " And then, the fact is, my dear, I began to 
 feel a little nervous, lest you should get any 
 foolish fancy into your head, and think you 
 cared about him. You are very young yet, 
 dear, and girls are so apt sometimes to get silly 
 notions into their heads about love-marriages, 
 and sacrificing everything for the sake of some 
 man they really are attached to, and all that 
 kind of thing; and it would be a very very 
 great pity if you were to fancy anything of the 
 kind, and let it stand in the way of your doing 
 better. I should What, my dear ? " 
 
 The flow of Mrs. Lisle's ideas was suddenly 
 cut short by an expression of astonishment, 
 which escaped Pauline. 
 
 " Mamma, do you mean that all this long, 
 rambling discourse, simply means that you are 
 afraid that I shall fall in love, and let my heart 
 run away with my head ? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear," said Mrs. Lisle, rather re- 
 lieved at having the matter so clearly stated for 
 her. 
 
 " You have ruined my character^" replied 
 Pauline, with a smile.
 
 THAN SHE SUPPOSES. 263 
 
 " What do you mean, Pauline ? " 
 
 " Madame Delpierre used to say that I was 
 the only one of her English pupils who really 
 did her credit; for she believed that nothing 
 could make me betray genuine astonishment; 
 but you have done it, mamma." 
 
 Mrs. Lisle laughed ; she felt much relieved. 
 
 " I feel so very anxious about you, darling ; 
 that must plead my excuse." 
 
 " But, mamma, you said the other night that 
 if Frank had all that Uncle and Aunt Well- 
 wood could leave, it would be something worth 
 having." 
 
 " Yes, my dear, and I should not feel so 
 anxious if you were seven or eight years older. 
 It might then be worth thinking about ; but, at 
 your age, and with so many chances open to 
 you of doing better, I should be sadly distressed 
 to see you entangling yourself in anything of 
 the kind." 
 
 Mrs. Lisle did not think it necessary to speak 
 more plainly, and Pauline made no answer. 
 She only looked very thoughtful. Mrs. Lisle 
 congratulated herself that night on the posses- 
 sion of such a daughter ; and repeated to herself, 
 more than once, that certainly they had no
 
 264 MRS. WELLWOOD IS MORE TRAXSPAREXT 
 
 reason to regret the expense that had been be- 
 stowed upon her education. 
 
 " You look loveHer than ever, my darHng," 
 Mrs. Lisle whispered, as she stood with Pauline 
 at the hall-door the next day. " Good-bye, dear. 
 Make just whatever arrangements you like about 
 your visit to Riverston." 
 
 " Good-bye, silly mamma/' replied Pauline, 
 returning her mother's embrace. She got into 
 the carriage, and then, at the last moment, called 
 her mother back for a parting word. 
 
 " Mamma, I want to speak to you." 
 
 " What is it, my child ? " 
 
 Pauline leaned out of the window, and whis- 
 pered into her mother's ear — 
 
 " Whatever you may hear, mamma, don't be 
 afraid that I shall ever make a fool of myself. 
 Mind what I say, mamma ; whatever you may 
 hear." 
 
 There was a depth of meaning in her face and 
 tone most consolatory to Mrs. Lisle's feelings, 
 and she responded fervently — 
 
 *^ God bless you, my child." 
 
 A censorious listener might have been un- 
 charitable enough to think the invocation some- 
 what out of place, but it did not strike either
 
 THAN SHE SUPPOSES. 265 
 
 mother or daughter in that light ; and with a 
 loving smile in answer, Pauline drove off. 
 
 "Pauline! is it possible?" exclaimed Frank 
 Wellwood, as he came into the vicarage drawing- 
 room just before dinner. 
 
 " Frank ! is it possible ? " repeated Pauline, in 
 exactly the same tone. 
 
 Frank laughed. " Why, the last time 1 saw 
 you, you were a sort of spider of a girl, with 
 long thin arms, and of a generally disjointed 
 appearance ; and now ^" 
 
 " And the last time I saw you," said Pauline, 
 '*you were an exceedingly ugly boy, with un- 
 pleasantly dirty hands, and a head, in general, 
 quite guiltless of the brush ; and now " 
 
 *'Ah," replied Frank, "we had better stop 
 there, I suppose-; but really I am very glad to 
 see you again." 
 
 " And I to see you," she said, holding out her 
 hand with charming cordiality. 
 
 Mrs. Wellwood looked on in great delight. 
 This was just the sort of meeting she had wished 
 to see, and feared there would be no chance she 
 should see. She had feared there might be some 
 little constraint about their first meeting after 
 so many years, and had dreaded the *' Frank " 
 and " PauHne " of childhood might have grown
 
 266 MRS. WELLWOOD IS MORE TRANSPARENT 
 
 into "Miss Lisle" and "Mr. Wellwood;" and 
 now she saw tbem meet, as if they had parted 
 but yesterday as brother and sister. 
 
 " What a dear, unaffected girl she is," she 
 thought, as she watched Pauline chattering 
 merrily to Frank, and heard her soft clear laugh, 
 as he reminded her of various incidents of their 
 childish acquaintance. "Why most girls would 
 have been stiff and awkward at first, meeting 
 again under the circumstances, but she is too 
 artless for such nonsense." And all through 
 dinner she watched them with quiet satisfaction ; 
 her visions of the future becoming, at the same 
 time, much more distinct, both as regards shape 
 and colour. 
 
 " Have you brought your horse, Pauline ? " 
 she asked, the moment they were in the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 " No, auntie, he is still lame, I could not bring 
 him." 
 
 *' Oh dear me^ I am so sorry. But surely your 
 father could have let you have another ? " 
 
 "I don't know. I rather doubt it; but I 
 didn't ask him," 
 
 "Whvnot?" 
 
 " Well, to tell you the truth, I did not very 
 much wish to have a horse here."
 
 THAN SHE SUPPOSES. 267 
 
 "But why not?" 
 
 « Why, you see auntie, riding about alone is 
 all very well when I am at home, but I don't 
 quite like to do it here." 
 
 " But you wouldn't have had to do it, dear. 
 That's just the very thing. You see, Frank 
 being here, makes everything so different. You 
 would have had him to ride about with." 
 
 "Ah, ha!" said Pauline. ''I thought that 
 was in your mind, and that is just what I don't 
 choose to do." 
 
 " Not choose to do, Pauline ! " 
 
 '' No, auntie, certainly not. You know I 
 look upon Frank as a brother, and you have got 
 into a way of thinking of us as brother and 
 sister, but other people, you may be sure, will 
 not forget that we are really no relations ; so I 
 don't choose to go riding about the country with 
 him." 
 
 "I'm sure I don't see what objection there 
 could be," replied Mrs. Wellwood ; not, however, 
 altogether displeased to find that Pauline did not 
 entirely forget the fact that she and Frank 
 Wellwood were really not related. 
 
 " Well, I'm not going to run the risk," she 
 answered. 
 
 '' It was just the thought of that, made me
 
 268 MRS. WELL WOOD IS MORE TRANSPARENT 
 
 propose not to come to you until after he went 
 away ; and, besides, there is another thing," she 
 added. " You know quite well, auntie. Sir Gruy 
 Rivers is the great catch of the county ; and if 
 I went riding all about here, people would say I 
 had just come over on purpose. You see I am 
 growing very prudent and cautious. I havn't 
 heard all the ill-natured things that have been 
 said about me for nothing." 
 
 "You should not mind people's ill-natured 
 sayings, my dear, they will talk." 
 
 "No more I do generally, but you see in. 
 this case I feel I really gave them some cause. 
 I didn't a bit understand county proprieties in 
 England. I'm beginning to understand it better 
 now. I came over here on purpose to stay 
 with you, and to help you, if I can ; so I shall 
 do nothing but run about the village, with a 
 great big basket, and talk to all the old women, 
 and teach the children in the school." 
 
 " Indeed, I am not going to let you do any- 
 thing of the kind, Pauline. You are a dear 
 good child, and shall help me ; but I mean you 
 to have some amusement ; besides, I depend on 
 you to amuse Frank a little ; it is rather dull 
 here for him, with only two old people like your 
 uncle and I."
 
 THAN SHE SUPPOSES. 269 
 
 " If all dull places are like this, I should like 
 to spend a great deal of time in dull places, then. 
 It is so charming here." 
 
 ^' And I won't have you fancy you are not to 
 go about at all with Frank." 
 
 '* Oh, no, auntie, I didn't mean that ; only I 
 don't want to go too far. You must tell me, or 
 I am sure I shall do something dreadful. I 
 wish people wouldn't be so ready to put a bad 
 construction on what one does." 
 
 And Pauline heaved a deep sigh ; and lean- 
 ing her head back against the crimson window 
 curtain, opened her large eyes to their full ex- 
 tent, and gazed, with a dreamy, thoughtful look, 
 up at the church spire. The beautifully-shaped 
 head, classical profile, and clear pale complexion, 
 relieved against the crimson background, looked 
 uncommonly well, and so Frank Wellwood 
 thought, who entered the room a moment 
 after. He stood for a moment looking at her in 
 silence. 
 
 ''Come here, Frank," she said, without mov- 
 ing, "and look at the church spire, with the 
 moon just rising behind it." 
 
 '' How did you know I was in the room ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " I felt a pricking of my thumbs," she replied,
 
 270 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 turning her eyes upon him, with an arch look, 
 " and Hkewise heard a creaking of boot-leather." 
 
 " You have no idea how jolly you looked," he 
 said, " with the lamp-light falling on your face, 
 and the crimson curtain behind." 
 
 *' Did I ? " she answered. " What a pity 
 there was no one to see it. No one of conse- 
 quence, I mean." 
 
 "Thank you," said Frank. 
 
 "Dear me ! " she replied, " I declare I believe 
 the dear child's feelings are hurt. I really didn't 
 mean to be uncivil." 
 
 " You don't deserve a compliment," he re- 
 torted, somewhat piqued at her tone. 
 
 " Then, my dear, don't pay me any," she 
 replied, " and then you won't get snubbed." 
 And she got up and went to the piano, and 
 began singing little French airs, as if to herself, 
 Frank Wellwood sitting on the sofa she had 
 left, and silently watching her ; which was what 
 most men did whose fate brought them into the 
 society of Pauline Lisle.
 
 A WARNING AISTD AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 271 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A WARNING AND AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 
 
 The moment Mr. and Mrs. Darryll had dropped 
 Pauline Lisle in Stowminster, on their way to 
 Riverston, Mrs. Darryll exclaimed — 
 
 " Edgar ! the most delightful thing has hap- 
 pened. I have been dying to tell you." 
 
 " What is it ? " he asked. 
 
 " What do you think people are saying about 
 you?" 
 
 " About me ? " he repeated. 
 
 " Yes, about you and Miss Yernon." 
 
 If Mrs. Darryll had really been as quick an 
 observer as she flattered herself she was, the 
 sudden change in her husband's manner would 
 not have escaped her notice, as he asked — 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Why, Pauline Lisle has just been telling me
 
 272 WISE AS A SERPEXT. 
 
 that people say she was dreadfully in love with 
 you when she first came out." 
 
 Mr. Darryll laughed heartily enough for a 
 moment, but then checking it, he said — 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it though. It would be 
 very unpleasant for her if it reached her 
 ears. What on earth made Miss Lisle tell you 
 either ? " 
 
 " Only because she admires Maud very much, 
 and wanted to be able to contradict the story 
 authoritatively." 
 
 " I don't see how she could gain any power to 
 do that from you," he said. 
 
 " Why, of course she thought if there had 
 been any truth in it, I should have known 
 something about it." 
 
 "I don't see that at all, Isabel, and I can't 
 help thinking your silky friend, whom I must 
 confess I don't like, must have had some ulterior 
 motive for telling you about it. If Miss Yernon 
 had done me the honour to fall in love with 
 me, I certainly should not have talked about 
 it ; and I don't suppose she could imagine that 
 Miss Yernon would have made a confidant of 
 you upon the subject." 
 
 She certainly had no motive further than 
 what she stated. You may call Pauline silky
 
 A WARNING AND AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 273 
 
 if you like ; and so she is, though not in the 
 sense you mean it, for she is very sincere and 
 straightforward ; and moreover, as it happened, 
 I was able to give her an authoritative contra- 
 diction." 
 
 " The devil you were ! and how did you 
 manage it ? " 
 
 " Edgar ! " exclaimed his wife. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my dear Isabel, but I 
 was so astonished." 
 
 " I don't see why you need be." 
 
 ** How could you contradict the story ? " 
 
 " Because Maud had told me something which 
 enabled me to do so." 
 
 Mrs. Darryll was somewhat nettled by her 
 husband's remarks on Pauline Lisle, or she would 
 hardly have allowed herself to be betrayed into 
 such an incautious admission. 
 
 Mr. Darryll caught the remark instantly — 
 
 " Pray, what has Miss Yernon been telling 
 you about me ? " he asked, in a rather startled 
 tone. 
 
 Mrs. Darryll saw the false step, and en- 
 deavoured to draw back, but it was too late. 
 Her husband insisted on knowing what had 
 passed, and at last, on her persisting in refusing 
 to tell him, threatened to ask Maud Yernon, 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 the moment she arrived at Riverston, what it 
 meant. Terrified at this threat, she told him 
 all that had passed on the occasion of their drive 
 home from Atherley Park. 
 
 "■ And so you did me the honour to be jealous, 
 did you?" he said. 
 
 . " No, indeed — at least, I don't think I was ; 
 but Maud says I am jealous, so perhaps I was a 
 little. But really, Edgar, I didn't know that I 
 was." 
 
 " Why did you not ask me about it, Isabel ?" 
 " I didn't care to do so," she replied. 
 " You ought to have done ; that's a dangerous 
 game where husband and wife are concerned, 
 remember." 
 
 " I should never be really jealous of you, 
 Edgar." 
 
 " Don't be too sure of that," he said ; " you've 
 got a touch of it in you." 
 
 " I used to have, perhaps, but it's all gone 
 now, or going fast. I can trust those I love now, 
 which I never could before, and I don't doubt I 
 shall become weakly confiding at last." 
 
 Edgar Darryll had sense enough to have a 
 strong suspicion that the two dispositions were 
 by no means incompatible, but he did not telL 
 his wife so. He was rather puzzled, but at the
 
 A WARNING AND AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 275 
 
 same time much relieved, by all he had heard. 
 It seemed so contradictory that Isabel should be 
 at one moment so disposed to jealousy, and at 
 another so apparently free from all inclination to 
 it ; and he could not fathom it. But Maud's 
 explanation to Isabel of what had passed when 
 they first met, was very satisfactory to him. He 
 knew how entirely truthful she was, and that if 
 she said so, it was because she really thought 
 so ; consequently, he thought, it was evident that 
 Maud really had no idea how much more than 
 the mere passing fancy people had believed it, 
 his affection for her had been, which was just 
 what he wished. He thought he was conquering 
 the feeling, and should soon have extinguished 
 it entirely. " If only/' he thought, *' she was 
 like ordinar}^ women, it would be easy enough ; 
 but such a girl as that ! " Here he began to think 
 it necessary to put the curb on his thoughts 
 again, and, after a little, he succeeded in falling 
 asleep, until he was roused by a sudden excla- 
 mation from Isabel. A turn of the road had 
 brought them within sight of Riverston hall. 
 
 " Why, even from this distance," she ex- 
 claimed, " it looks quite a different place. How 
 much Guy must have done ! " 
 
 It did certainly look very different from any- 
 
 T 2
 
 276 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 thing Isabel Darryll remembered it looking like. 
 Ri version hall was associated entirely with 
 gloom and desertion in her mind, and Sir Guy's 
 energetic restorations seemed almost like the 
 work of an enchanter's wand. By the time they 
 reached the hall she was in a state of enthu- 
 siastic dehght. 
 
 " I never saw any place so altered, Guy ! " she 
 exclaimed ; " I really had no idea the old hall 
 was such a fine building." 
 
 " It does look rather different, certainly ; but 
 there is a great deal to be done yet, before it is 
 what I want to see it." 
 
 " Well, I am sure you could not have anything 
 better than it is," answered Mrs. Darryll. 
 
 Sir Guy made no reply. He was not in the 
 habit of favouring his sister with much informa- 
 tion on the subject of his feelings about Riverston. 
 Perhaps he hardly knew himself what it was the 
 place needed for him. It was not restoration it 
 wanted, but fresh association. He could not 
 shake off the shadow of the past — at least, he 
 had never yet been able to do so, and, until he 
 could, he knew that Riverston could never be a 
 home to him. Of late he had thought a great 
 deal about the subject, and had also constantly 
 found these thoughts ending in Maud Yernon,
 
 A WARNING AND AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 277 
 
 as if she was destined to have something to do 
 with driving away the dark shadow. Yet Sir 
 Guy would have laughed at the idea of his being 
 in love. " More chance of that/' he thought, 
 " where that ' little witch,' " as he mentally desig- 
 nated Pauline Lisle, " was concerned." He had, 
 at least so he told himself, a sort of veneration 
 for Maud Yernon. There was, in the strength 
 and quiet repose about her, something which 
 seemed to exercise such a strange influence over 
 his excitable nature ; but he felt certain he should 
 never feel love for her — at least, not what he 
 had been accustomed to think of as love. All 
 he would ever care for would be, to be able to go 
 to the deanery whenever the evil spirit within 
 was more than usually roused, and find protec- 
 tion from himself in the soothing influence of 
 the spot, and of Maud's calm face and clear deep 
 eyes, which always seemed^ when she looked at 
 him with that quiet earnest look, to speak peace 
 to the troubled waters of his restless nature. He 
 had a sort of half unconscious hope that she 
 would leave some of her influence at Riverston, 
 and thereby help to remove the gloom which he 
 always fancied lingered about the place. Clearly 
 Sir Guy was getting romantic, though he was 
 not, according to his own account, in love. But
 
 278 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 of all this Mrs. Darryll knew nothing. Perhaps 
 there were few people among his acquaintances 
 who had less idea of Sir Guy's real character 
 than his own sister; so he made no answer to 
 her remark, but only asked, after a moment's 
 silence — 
 
 " When are the dean and Miss Yernon 
 coming?" 
 
 " Next week," Mrs. Darryll said. 
 " Have you any idea how long they intend to 
 stay, Isabel?" 
 
 " Maud wanted to stand out for the regular 
 three days' visit," said Mrs. Darryll; "but I 
 would not hear of that." 
 
 " I should think not ! " exclaimed Sir Guy ; 
 " I calculated on their staying a fortnight, at 
 least." 
 
 " Well, you had better settle it with the dean. 
 I don't think Maud really cares, and I want her 
 to stay as long as I do. I shall be so much 
 happier while she is here. I shall want to get 
 back to the priory the moment I know she is at 
 the deanery, I am sure. I can't think why she 
 should be in such a hurry to go again." 
 
 " I don't think Miss Yernon's reason is very 
 hard to divine," put in Mr. Darryll. 
 " What do you suppose it to be ? "
 
 A WARNING AND AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 279 
 
 " Simply, that she is not the least likely to let 
 it be supposed that she is very anxious to be, for 
 very long, Eivers' guest. I think, if you and 
 Guy want her to stay longer, you will find the 
 best chance of success in persuading Mrs. Fever- 
 sham and her daughters to stay." 
 
 " I am sure I should never have thought of 
 such a thing, in her place," Mrs. Darryll replied. 
 " Of course she wouldn't have liked to be the 
 only young lady invited ; but beyond that, I 
 should never have thought of such a thing." 
 
 " I daresay not," said her brother, drily ; 
 " but I don't doubt Darryll is right." 
 
 " Ah, I suppose he ought to know what she 
 is likely to feel ! " said Mrs. Darryll, with a mis- 
 chievous look at her husband. 
 
 " Hulloa ! " said Sir Guy, " what does that 
 
 ^^^^ . 
 
 His sister told him what she had heard. Sir 
 Guy's colour rose, and his eyes flashed ominously. 
 
 " If I hear any man say that," he muttered, 
 " I'll thrash him till he can't stand." 
 
 " Mercy upon us, Guy ! " his sister exclaimed, 
 " you are wondrous enthusiastic on the subject. 
 But unfortunately you couldn't quite thrash my 
 informant." 
 
 " I have much too high a respect for Miss
 
 280 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 Yernon to hear any one say such a thing of 
 her ; but who told you ? " 
 
 " Pauline Lisle." 
 
 A strange look passed over Sir Guy's face, 
 but his answer was inaudible, and he turned 
 away, saying — 
 
 " You had better go and get ready for dinner, 
 Isabel ; it will be ready in ten minutes." 
 
 Sir Guy turned to his brother-in-law the 
 moment she was gone and said — 
 
 " Darryll, I needn't ask whether you had 
 anything to do with that story ; but do you 
 believe it ? " 
 
 " Most emphatically not," was the answer. 
 
 " How did it get about ? " 
 
 " How on earth should I know ? " 
 
 '' Because sometimes it is exactly the reverse 
 of the truth that gets abroad." 
 
 " Rivers ! " exclaimed Mr. Darryll, angrily, 
 " I don't choose to stand anything of that 
 kind." 
 
 " My dear fellow, don't get in a rage. I'm 
 not going to ask indiscreet questions. All I can 
 say is, that if such a thing as I have hinted ever 
 really happened, it is no business of mine. Only, 
 I strongly recommend you by no means ever to 
 let your wife get scent of it."
 
 A WARNIXG AND AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 281 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Because there'll be the devil to pay if you 
 do, that's all. You'll find out then, that Isabel, 
 with all her romantic ideas about love and 
 friendship^ hasn't, at heart, very much faith in 
 human nature, either masculine or feminine." 
 
 " You don't mean to say, that, where Miss 
 Yernon is concerned, she could ever be jealous ? " 
 
 " You had better not try. I don't forget 
 either that Isabel is your wife, or my sister, 
 but I tell you for your own safety. You may 
 depend, my dear fellow, that people who really 
 have faith and trust in love and friendship 
 never talk much about it, and Isabel is always 
 setting forth most romantic ideas on the subject." 
 
 " I didn't know you went in for moral phi- 
 losophy, Rivers." 
 
 " No more I do ; but I've contrived to tumble 
 over a stray fragment here and there." 
 
 He walked away to his own rooms as he 
 spoke, and Mr. Darryll went up to his dressing- 
 room in a highly-reflective frame of mind. 
 
 If Maud Yernon had known it, Sir Guy Rivers 
 had paid her a very high compliment, in con- 
 senting to allow his sister to ask Mrs. Feversham 
 and her daughters to stay at Riverston hall, in 
 order to make the visit more agreeable to her.
 
 282 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 He would rather have foregone the presence of 
 any one else than have submitted to that of Mrs. 
 Feversham. Not that he disliked her, that was 
 a feeling it would have been hardly possible for 
 any one to entertain towards her ; but her 
 association with his mother's death made him 
 shrink from her society, and, but for her tact, 
 would have rendered her very presence almost 
 unendurable to him. But she knew his feeling 
 on the subject, and, knowing it, treated it with 
 an amount of respect which he could not but 
 feel, and for which he was grateful. Never, in 
 the whole course of their acquaintance, had Sir 
 Guy heard his mother's name pass Mrs. Fever- 
 sham's lips, nor the slightest allusion to the 
 past ; and, but for the memory of that act of 
 quiet heroism, which all had admired, though 
 the cost of it was known to none save herself 
 and Doctor Marsh, people might have almost 
 forgotten Mrs. Feversham's connexion with 
 Lady Clara Eivers. It was strange, and almost 
 mysterious, the extraordinary hold upon Sir 
 Guy that everything had which was connected 
 in any way with his mother. Mysterious, at 
 least, to all except Doctor Marsh and Mrs. 
 Feversham. Some years before, when Sir Guy 
 was quite a boy, he had come to Eiverston for
 
 A WARNING AND AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 283 
 
 the first time since his mother's death, and Mrs. 
 Feversham had seen him. A few days after, 
 she met Doctor Marsh. 
 
 " Doctor," she said, " I have seen Guy 
 Rivers." 
 
 " Well ? " was the answer. 
 
 " He is the image of her," she replied, in a 
 low sad tone. 
 
 " I always said it would prove so." 
 
 " I know, but I had hoped against hope. He 
 is so handsome, doctor." 
 
 ** He must be, if he is like her." 
 
 " Do you not think he may outgrow it ? " 
 
 " It is quite possible. Likenesses often change 
 so much, but I cannot say I think it probable. 
 Have you seen his sister ? " 
 
 " Yes. She is at Riverston too." 
 
 " What is she like ? " 
 
 " Dark, and promises to be very good looking 
 when she is a little older. Not the least like her 
 brother." 
 
 " No look at all of Lady Clara ? " 
 
 " Not the slightest ; and yet there is some- 
 thing about her face I don't quite like, but 
 perhaps it is only imagination. When one has 
 an idea, one is so apt to ride it to death." 
 
 Doctor Marsh did not think Mrs. Feversham
 
 284 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 was very likely to do so^ but he did not say 
 what he thought. 
 
 A very different person the Mrs. Feversham 
 who arrived at Riverston hall a few days after 
 Mrs. Darryll, was, in appearance, from the Mrs. 
 Feversham whose scarlet tuft had startled Lionel 
 Chaplin so much, as she rode up the lane to the 
 meet, four-and-twenty years ago. Then she was 
 a slight, pretty, dark-haired girl, not very long 
 married. Now she was a portly, middle-aged 
 woman, with many silver threads in her dark 
 hair, but handsome still, carrying her years 
 well ; with a cordial manner and smile that 
 were very irresistible. Mrs. Feversham's eldest 
 daughter was older now than she herself was on 
 that fatal day of Lady Clara Rivers' first and 
 last appearance in the hunting-field after her 
 marriage. Sir Guy Rivers met her with more 
 cordiality than he had ever shown before, but it 
 did not deceive Mrs. Feversham. She saw the 
 same shrinking at heart, and sighed over it ; 
 knowing well that the outward cordiality was 
 but owing to the fact of her being his guest. 
 
 " I wish," she said to her husband, " he had 
 not that feeling. I think it is a bad sign." 
 
 " So it is ; but he never will get over it." 
 
 " I'm afraid not ; but I had hoped, by his
 
 A WARNING AND AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 285 
 
 deciding to come and live here and putting 
 the place in order, that it was beginning to 
 die out." 
 
 The dean and Maud arrived the following 
 day, and a few stray comers came dropping in 
 by degrees ; birds of passage, taking E-iverston 
 hall in the course of their periodical autumnal 
 migrations. Various overtures of the kind had 
 been made to Sir Guy on the part of affectionate 
 mammas ; but Sir Gruy's answer had been one 
 and the same to all. That, deeply as he regretted 
 it, he was unable to have the honour of enter- 
 taining them at Eiverston, as the house was 
 only, as yet^ partly fitted up, and all the avail- 
 able rooms were already occupied. 
 
 " I thought it was a wise step," he remarked, 
 to his sister, " not to have all the house done up 
 at present, and I see I was right. It's not safe 
 for a bachelor to have too much room to spare." 
 
 '' I should think the sooner you make it safe, 
 then, the better^ Guy." 
 
 " There's plenty of time for that," he replied. 
 " I don't mean to be in a hurry." 
 
 Mrs. Darryll would have liked to say that he 
 had a good opportunity now to do so if he liked, 
 but she had the sense to hold her tongue, on 
 that subject at least.
 
 286 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " Isn't it a fine old place ? " Mrs. Darryll said 
 to Maud, as they were wandering about the 
 grounds the morning after her arrival. 
 
 *' Yery," she replied. " What a pity it should 
 have been so long deserted." 
 
 " So it is, but I hope it will have a mistress 
 before long, now." 
 
 She looked at Maud as she spoke, but could 
 read nothing in her face, or in the calm tone in 
 which she replied^ — 
 
 " A most desirable appendage to Sir Guy's 
 establishment, I should think. Oh ! what a 
 beautiful view of the house there is from 
 here." 
 
 " Yes, it is one of the best ; and look, Maud, 
 that large bow- window on the first floor, and 
 the two next it, to the left, are the windows of 
 mamma's rooms. They are the very best rooms 
 in the house, and quite wasted by Gruy's absurd 
 fancy." 
 
 " How can you call it so, Isabel ? " 
 
 " I do, most certainly, call it a most ridiculous 
 folly to waste the best rooms in the house, for 
 the sake of a piece of romantic nonsense. I 
 have tried to laugh and talk him out of it ; but 
 he gets into such a fury now, if I name the sub- 
 ject, that I am obliged to leave it alone. I only
 
 A WARNING AND AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 287 
 
 hope, when Guy marries, his wife will have the 
 sense to insist on having those rooms for her- 
 self." 
 
 " I should think, if she did, she would pro- 
 bably find she had paid rather a dear price for 
 them." 
 
 '' How do you mean ? " 
 
 " I think that any woman, who married your 
 brother, would have cause to repent it, if she 
 treated him in that kind of way." 
 
 " My private opinion is," said Mrs. Darryll, 
 laughing, " that whoever marries Guy will have 
 cause to repent it ; and yet," she added, check- 
 ing herself, " I ought not to say that. Guy is a 
 very good fellow, only he has such a temper." 
 
 " I don't think it is altogether an unmanage- 
 able one," replied Maud. 
 
 " Well, I don't know ; I never could manage 
 it, I know. We are always better friends apart. 
 But do come in now, Maud ; all the other peoplje 
 are engaged, one way and another, and I will 
 show you mamma's rooms. They are just the 
 same as they were when she was killed." 
 
 Maud followed her, though rather reluctantly. 
 There was something in the way Mrs. Darryll 
 spoke of her mother which always rather grated 
 on her feelings.
 
 288 WISE AS A SERPEXT. 
 
 " Oome up to my dressing-room," Mrs. Darryll 
 said, " and we'll send for the keys." 
 
 She rang the bell, and sent to the housekeeper 
 for the keys. In a few moments her maid re- 
 turned — 
 
 " Mrs. Parsons says she can't give you the 
 keys, ma'am." 
 
 " Not give them to me ! What does she 
 mean ? " 
 
 " She hasn't got them, ma'am." 
 
 " Why, she used always to have them." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am ; but since Sir Guy has been 
 here this time, he has taken them himself, and 
 always keeps them." 
 
 " Where is Sir Guy ? " asked Mrs. Darryll. 
 
 " He's gone out, ma'am, with the dean." 
 
 "Very well, then, we must wait," she added, 
 turning to Maud. " I will ask Guy for them the 
 first opportunity." 
 
 " No, Isabel ; please don't do that," said Maud, 
 earnestly. 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Because I had much rather not. If Sir Guy 
 says anything about it, well and good ; but please 
 don't ask him." 
 
 " My dear Maud, how ridiculous ! " exclaimed 
 Mrs. Darryll. " I declare you are getting as
 
 A WARNING AXD AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 289 
 
 absurd as Gruy himself. I shall certainly tell 
 him you wish particularly to see the rooms, and 
 have especially desired me to ask for the keys." 
 
 " I hope you will not, Isabel." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 ^* Because, in that case, I should feel obliged 
 to tell Sir Guy myself that the information was 
 utterly false ; and that you had made the request 
 against my express wish." 
 
 Mrs. Darryll had never heard Maud speak in 
 that tone before, and was rather startled. 
 
 " My dear Maud, I was only jesting." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it/' was the quiet 
 answer. 
 
 " No, but really Maud, you don't mean that 
 you have any sympathy with such nonsense ? " 
 
 *^ I have certainly considerable sympathy with 
 Sir Gruy's feelings, and do not by any means 
 consider them nonsense." 
 
 " Do you mean that you would feel the same ? '' 
 
 *^I think I should, under the same circum- 
 stances ; and I am sure such feelings have the 
 utmost possible claim to respect, even from those 
 who do not share them." 
 
 " Well, but I don't feel the least like that 
 about mamma, and she was my mother, just as 
 much as Guy's." 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " But you and Sir Gruy are not the least alike 
 in disposition." 
 
 " No, indeed ; I should hope not," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Darryll. 
 
 '' You might gain by resembling him in some 
 things^ Isabel." 
 
 '* Dear me ! you are very enthusiastic in 
 Guy's defence," Mrs. Darryll answered, in a 
 half-jesting tone. 
 
 ^^ I alwaj^s say what I really think," answered 
 Maud, "and am, as you know, tolerably indifferent 
 as to what motives people assign for my words." 
 
 " Yes, I know you are, dear, and how on earth 
 you can be so independent I can't imagine. I am 
 always in a nervous state about what people 
 think of me. But in what way do you think I 
 should gain by resembling Guy ? Do you wish 
 me to have his temper ? " 
 
 " No, certainly not." 
 
 " What then ? " 
 
 " A little of his frank generous disposition, 
 and absence of self-consciousness, and " 
 
 "And what?" 
 
 " Shall I go on," said Maud, smiling. 
 
 " Yes ; go on." 
 
 " And absence of everything like suspicion or 
 jealousy."
 
 A WARXIXG AND AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 291 
 
 " Now, Maud, that isn't fair. You have de- 
 cided that I am suspicious, and jealous, and you 
 will always believe it to the end of the chapter ; 
 but I can assure you, since you showed me that 
 I had those tendencies, I have been on my guard 
 against them, and I have felt neither for a long 
 time." 
 
 "I am delighted to hear it," replied Maud. 
 
 " And don't believe it, I can see." 
 
 "My dear Isabel, how can I tell whether you 
 have been feeling anything or not. I can only 
 tell this, that if you are counting upon extin- 
 guishing a natural tendency, entirely, in two or 
 three months, you are very ignorant of the 
 strength of such tendencies." 
 
 " But I have had proof that I have got over 
 the feelings." 
 
 " Have you ? " 
 
 " Yes " — and she told Maud what Pauline Lisle 
 had said. 
 
 Maud looked rather grave. 
 
 " My dear Maud, what makes you look so 
 serious ? Is that the way you show your indif- 
 ference as to what people say about you ? " 
 
 " I don't care a straw about it being said ; 
 but, at the same time, I don't believe it ever 
 
 was." 
 
 u
 
 292 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 *' But Pauline told me she had heard it." 
 
 "I don't doubt that. But I believe I am 
 indebted for the story entirely to the prolific 
 brain of Miss Lisle." 
 
 " There you go ! " exclaimed Mrs. Darryll. 
 " Always ready to think evil of poor Pauline." 
 
 " Well, we need not discuss her," replied 
 Maud. " There's the luncheon bell." 
 
 They went down stairs ; Maud making some 
 new mental notes on suspicion ; watchful, and 
 ready to take alarm where there was no cause ; 
 and, at the same time, blind to most direct at- 
 tempts at mischief-making, and more than ever 
 anxious about Mrs. Darryll. She could not 
 avoid seeing that Miss Lisle's conduct gave good 
 cause to fear that she had detected the weak side 
 of Mrs. Darryll's character, and was prepared to 
 profit by the discovery, with considerable skill, 
 in furtherance of whatever ends she had in view, 
 though, at the present moment, no idea of what 
 they were had crossed Maud's mind. 
 
 While she and Mrs. Darryll had been wan- 
 dering about the grounds that morning. Sir Guy 
 had carried the dean off to the church. It was a 
 beautiful one, and Sir Guy was at the moment 
 enthusiastically anxious it should be restored, of 
 which it stood in great need. The dean was, he
 
 A WARNING AND AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 293 
 
 knew, an authority on all points connected with 
 church architecture, and he wanted his opinion 
 upon the subject. 
 
 " I'll let you into the church, Mr. Dean," he 
 said, as he took the keys from the clerk's wife, 
 and then just run up to the vicarage and ask 
 Mr. Wellwood to come and join us." 
 
 " Why shouldn't I go up there with you ? " 
 
 " Oh, certainly, if you like ; only I thought, 
 perhaps, as Mr. Wellwood has not called yet — " 
 
 " That I should stand on ceremony ? Not at 
 all. Besides, Wellwood and I were at Oxford 
 together." 
 
 They went up to the vicarage accordingly; 
 but^ as they entered the drawing-room. Sir Guy 
 fairly started. There, beautiful and graceful as 
 usual, sat Pauline Lisle, copying music, in a 
 most becoming attitude. 
 
 " Miss Lisle ! " exclaimed Sir Guy, " you are 
 the very last person I expected to see." 
 
 " And this is the very last place in which I 
 expected to find myself, until a few days since," 
 she replied. " Only Aunt Wellwood was so very 
 anxious I should come to her for a few days." 
 
 " Is Mr. Wellwood in ? " asked Sir Guy. 
 
 " He is somewhere about the garden I think. 
 They will find him directly."
 
 294 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 " The dean is going to look at the church, and 
 we want him to come." 
 
 " He will be delighted. Uncle Wellwood 
 says," she added, turning to the dean, *'that he 
 remembers you at Oxford, Mr. Dean; but he 
 fancies you will not recollect him." 
 
 "I do, perfectly, and shall be delighted to 
 renew my acquaintance." 
 
 Mrs. Wellwood came in at the moment, and 
 Pauline turned again to Sir Guy. 
 
 " I don't know what Mrs. Darryll must think 
 of Aunt Wellwood," she said, " for not having 
 called upon her yet; but she has had such a 
 heavy cold, she has been quite unable to leave 
 the house." 
 
 " Isabel will be delighted to see her, whenever 
 she can venture out ; but I hope she won't run 
 any foolish risks for the sake of a morning 
 visit." 
 
 " No, I don't let her do that. I have pre- 
 vented her going more than once. Her health is 
 of more consequence than ceremony, I tell her." 
 
 " Most certainly. How long are you going to 
 stay. Miss Lisle ? " 
 
 '' I havn't the least idea. I came over on 
 purpose to help Aunt Wellwood, and I shall stay 
 just as long as she wants me."
 
 A WARNING AND AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 295 
 
 '^ Then you will be able to come to the ball 
 next week ? " said Sir Guy. 
 
 " Oh, dear, no," replied Pauline; "it is very 
 kind of you to think of it, but it is doubly 
 impossible now. I have no one I could go 
 with." 
 
 " But you are so close, you might come up 
 early. In fact, you could easily come and dine 
 at the hall, and then Isabel could take you 
 under her charge, couldn't she ? I suppose that 
 would satisfy all the requirements of propriety ? " 
 
 " Most certainly. You seem quite up on the 
 subject, but really I think it would be better 
 not. It seems horribly ungracious to make so 
 many difficulties, I'm afraid you will think I am 
 doing it on purpose; but, you see, that would 
 not provide about the difficulties of my getting 
 home. I could hardly come home alone, and, 
 indeed, that's not the end of it. Frank Well- 
 wood is here, and though we are almost like 
 brother and sister, really I'm afraid it would be 
 a fearful outrage on all propriety if we were 
 known to have come home from a ball together 
 at the small hours." 
 
 " Ah, that complicates the matter, certainly," 
 said Sir Guy. 
 
 " Yes, does it not ? I should like to be there.
 
 296 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 but, under the circumstances, I feel I had better 
 not think of it." 
 
 ^' I'm afraid we could hardly find you a bed ; 
 for one or two people from a distance have been 
 asked to stay all night, so the house is quite 
 full." 
 
 " I wouldn't think of such a thing for a mo- 
 ment," said Pauline; "and, after all, though it 
 would be very charming to me, because your 
 sister is there, still, the loss of a ball, merely as 
 such, would never greatly endanger my hap- 
 piness." 
 
 " Pauline," put in Mrs. Wellwood, " had you 
 not better go to the church, too ? You are fond 
 of all subjects of architecture." 
 
 " Yery, auntie ; but at the moment the strings 
 of duty and pleasure are pulling in opposite 
 directions. I promised the organist these chants 
 should be copied for him by luncheon time^ so I 
 must get them done, which I could not do if" I 
 went to the church." 
 
 " But, I'm sure, that is of no great conse- 
 quence." 
 
 " I promised, auntie," said Pauline, gravely, 
 "" so it must be done." And she set herself again 
 to her work. 
 
 " What was that I heard Sir Guy saying to
 
 A WlRNING AND AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 297 
 
 you about the ball, Pauline ? " Mrs. Wellwood 
 asked, the moment she and Pauline were alone. 
 
 " He wanted to make arrangements for my 
 going to it." 
 
 "" And I mean you to go, my dear." 
 
 " No, indeed, auntie^ it is not to be thought 
 of. I couldn't go with Frank, and I could not 
 go alone. I didn't come over here for the sake 
 of a ball, and I'm not going. Why, I havn't 
 even a dress to go in." 
 
 " When is the ball to be, Pauline ? " 
 
 " Next week." 
 
 Mrs. Wellwood sat silent for a little, and then 
 said — 
 
 " I think I shall call on Mrs. Darryll to- 
 morrow morning. I shall go before luncheon, as 
 she will be more likely to be at home. Will you 
 drive me up to the hall in the pony-carriage ? " 
 
 " Of course I will, auntie ; and now tell me 
 what I am to do for you in the village this after- 
 noon." 
 
 Mrs. Wellwood gave her a long list. 
 
 " Is that all ? " she said, as she finished. 
 
 " All ! my dear child ? Why, what more 
 would you have? I'm not going to make a 
 slave of you." 
 
 " A slave ! " exclaimed PauHne ; " you don't 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 298 WISE AS A SERPENT. 
 
 know how happy it makes me to have some- 
 thing to do." 
 
 " You are a dear, useful child. I don't know 
 how I shall get on without you." 
 
 " I wish you would keep me always, then. 
 You don't know how much happier I am here 
 than at home. I know I ought not to say so, 
 but it is quite true." 
 
 " My poor, dear child ! " said Mrs. Wellwood, 
 kissing her affectionately. " Perhaps a happier 
 life may be coming for you." 
 
 Mrs. Wellwood really thought so. She was 
 quite sure that, even the short time they had 
 been together, had considerably modified Frank 
 Wellwood's strictly brotherly feelings towards 
 Pauline; not that Pauline, she could see, had 
 the most distant idea of anything of the kind. 
 She treated Frank exactly Hke a brother, with 
 only just enough caution in public to show how 
 really anxious she was not to give any cause for 
 idle remarks ; and for the present Mrs. Wellwood 
 was well satisfied that it should be so. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : PJUNTUD BY W, CLOWES AKD 60KS, DUKE STREET, STAMtOKD STKBET, 
 AND CUAEING CEOSS.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUN0I3-URBANA 
 
 lllllllllllllllll! 
 3 0112 041410116 
 
 
 .'r4m.::.\ 
 
 
 m\ 
 
 ?«sf. 
 
 #