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 TALES OF THE HEART. 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. OPIE. 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 
 There h no killing like that which kills the heart." 
 
 Shakspkare. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 PRINTED FOR 
 
 LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, 
 PATERNOSTER -ROW. 
 
 1820.
 
 Printed byRiihiiid and Arihier Tayldr, Shoe-Lane.
 
 v.'l 
 
 TALES OF THE HEART. 
 
 LOVE, MYSTERY, AND 
 SUPERSTITION. 
 
 My grief lies all within ; 
 
 «% 
 
 And these external manners of lament 
 Are merely shadows to the unseen grief 
 tt Tliat swells with silence in the tortured soul : 
 There lies the substance." 
 
 RiCHABD II. 
 
 CL ^ INTRODUCTION. 
 
 By desire of the same gentleman who 
 
 employed me to edit the Narrative which 
 
 -I published two years ago, as a Tale of 
 
 -Trials, I now publish the following Tale, 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 I LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 found, as he says, among the same hoard 
 of family manuscripts. 
 
 When he looked over this manuscript 
 after I had fitted it for pubUcation, he ex- 
 pressed his surprise and disappointment 
 that I had not, as Editor, exclaimed, 
 as the story went on, against the su- 
 perstitions and the mistaken zeal ma- 
 nifest in the events related; but as I 
 thought that the events were in perfect 
 keeping with the sentiments of the un- 
 known writer, and of the heroes and he- 
 roines of the piece, Idid not like to injure 
 the unity of a Catholic story by the com- 
 ments of a Protestant Editor. 
 
 ^* But are.you not afraid,'* said he, *^ ot 
 being supposed to approve what you do 
 rf ot pointedly reprobate ? " , 
 
 ; I, could not help smiling as I replied, 
 that I had no such fears, as my Protest- 
 antism, I trusted, wi^s beyond the reaph
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 3 
 
 of suspicion. (I did not wonder, how- 
 ever, that such a fear occurred to him, 
 as he had only recently abjured the Ca- 
 thoHc faith ; and it was this circumstance 
 no doubt which made him displeased with 
 my forbearance.) 
 
 " One thing I must observe,*' said I. 
 ^* There are some observations made by 
 two of the principal characters, which 
 seem to me inconsistent with their reli- 
 gious belief : how does this happen .^ "— 
 and I pointed to the passages as I 
 spoke. 
 
 " They are interpolations of mine,'* 
 he replied ; " as they point out the moral 
 which I wish to be adduced from the 
 story." 
 
 I will not give the argument which 
 
 ensued; suffice that we entered into a 
 
 compromise, that if he would allow me 
 
 to print those passages in italics, I would, 
 
 b2
 
 4; LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 U> oblige him, give up my original inten- 
 tion of calling the tale Love and Mystery, 
 and would name it, — 
 
 LOVE, MYSTERY, AND 
 SUPERSTITION. 
 
 PART THE FIRST. 
 
 Who calls so loud at this late peaceful hour 
 
 In the winter of the year 1693 a family 
 ill the north of England was alarmed at 
 midnight by a violent knocking at the 
 gates of the mansion : but the noise was 
 heard by the young lady of the house only, 
 the Lady Barbara Delmayne ; who, easily 
 awakened from the light slumbers of youth, 
 and terrified at the unusual sound, hasten- 
 ed to call the servant that slept near her, 
 and then opening her window, asked who 
 was there.
 
 AND SUPERSTITIOK. M 
 
 ** It IS I, my ownselif, my lady! It is 
 O'Carrol ; and for the love of the Holy 
 A^irgin, I conjure you to let me in : for I 
 hold a dead woman in my arms, whom I 
 want to bring to life ; and I am quite dead 
 myself!" 
 
 Lady Barbara, who immediately recog- 
 nised the voice, waited to hear no more; 
 but scarcely allowing herself time to throw 
 an additional clothing over that which she 
 had already seized, she ran down stairj^, 
 and with her own delicate hands endea- 
 voured to unbar the massy gates. She 
 tried however in vain; but the summons 
 of the bell was quickly obeyed by the rest 
 of the family : O'Carrol and his burthen 
 were admitted. 
 
 *' Alas! I fear she is indeed dead! ^ 
 exclaimed Lady Barbara, taking one of 
 the passive hands that hung powerless 
 over O'CarroFs shoulder; while her eyes
 
 6 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 rested on a face beautiful and pale as any 
 statue in her father's gallery. 
 
 " Quick ! quick ! a fire ! " cried the kind- 
 hearted young man, following Lady Bar- 
 bara into the kitchen, where, to their 
 great surprise, they found a blazing fire 
 already; and on a table beside it, ale and 
 spirits, and a jug of hot water. 
 
 "Here are wicked doings indeed," cried 
 Mrs. Mendham, the housekeeper (who 
 in the absence of Lord and Lady Delmayne 
 was particularly tenacious^of her authori- 
 ty). " Come out, ye vipers, from where 
 you have hidden yourselves ;" — and she 
 dragged one of the housemaids and the 
 under butler from their hiding-place : 
 but Lady Barbara insisted that all discus- 
 sion of their guilt should be deferred- till 
 the next day, and that she should come 
 and assist in restoring, if possible, a feL- 
 low-creature to hfe.
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. / 
 
 " And how do we know,'* said the pru- 
 dent Mrs. Mendham, *' who it is that 
 O'CaiTol has picked up ? " 
 
 "Taith! oldjontlewoman, I only know 
 she is a distressed creature, whom I 
 found in the deep snow, in a violent stormy 
 near the ruined shrine of the Holy Virgin, 
 about a mile off, where she had been pray- 
 ing, I'll engage." 
 
 "It does not matter who or what she is," 
 cried Lady Barbara ; " she is in distress." 
 
 " And a Catholic too," said the priest ; 
 " and the victim of her piety." 
 
 " And a bonny creature too," cried 
 Donald, a Scotch servant, who had lived 
 many years in the family ; " and I hope 
 that — " but as he bent over her, he start- 
 ed back in a kind of agony, and ran out 
 of the kitchen. 
 
 Lady Barbara meanwhile was desiring 
 the maid to bring her a complete change
 
 S LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 of linen for the stranger, and the house- 
 keeper to assist her in putting it on. 
 
 " Mighty fine ! " muttered Mrs. Mend- 
 hani, who had grown old in power, and 
 scarcely knew how to obey the child whom 
 ^he had seen in her cradle ; " mighty fine! " 
 but, without further objection, began re- 
 luctantly to undress the unfortunate pil- 
 grim. She was soon converted into a 
 wiUing assistant ; for, on loosening the 
 pilgrim's cloak, and the collar of the in- 
 ner garment, she perceived a broad black 
 riband round the sufferer's throat ; and 
 following it with her hand down the fold.s 
 of the gown, she found hanging to the end 
 of it a miniature picture set round with 
 very large diamonds. 
 
 " What fine jewels !" cried Mrs. Mend- 
 ham : "Poor dear lamb! she nuist be 
 somebody." 
 
 " What a beautiful face ! " said Lady
 
 ANCt. SUPERSTITION . 
 
 Barbara, looking only at the picture; 
 ** but take it away : we must not lose 
 time," she added, handing it to Donald, 
 who was now returned to the room. 
 
 In a few moments after the warm linen 
 had been put on and the friction resumed, 
 theliousekeeper declared that she felt the 
 Bweet lady's heart beat. O'Carrol, hear- 
 ing this, loudly gave thanks, for then he 
 should have saved a fellow-creature ;, while 
 Donald, giving him a hug that almost 
 throttled him, laid the picture down, 
 and hastily left the room, declaring 
 that he was mad with the tooth-ache. 
 Not a hand was now lifted from the limbs 
 of the sufferer, for life seemed to return 
 with every touch; not an eye was removed 
 from her countenance, as every one ex- 
 pected to behold the heavy eyelids lui- 
 close, and returning consciousness beam 
 from the first startled glance. 
 
 Lady Barbara hung with suspended 
 b5
 
 10 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 breath over the object of her solicitude,, 
 watching every languid movement, and 
 listening to every struggling sigh. — At 
 length the anxiously expected moment 
 arrived, — and dark but as yet rayless eyes 
 opened upon the anxious spectators. 
 
 " Thank God ! " ejaculated Lady Bar- 
 bara ; while the tears of grateful emotion 
 glittered on her glowing cheek : " but,'* 
 added she mournfully, " alas ! she is not 
 yet conscious." 
 
 Those dark and rayless eyes now as- 
 sumed a different appearance ; for they 
 lighted up with sudden recollection^ and 
 throwing inquiring glances around, they 
 at length fixed with wonder on Lady Bar- 
 bara ; then, raising herself on her elbow, 
 she exclaimed,^ " Dove sono ? — Rinaldo^ 
 Rosalie, dove s'lete P =^ " 
 
 " How fortunate it was," thought La- 
 dy Barbara, *' that my cousin Aubrey 
 
 * Where am 1 ?— RinaldO;, Rosalie^ where are you \
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 11 
 
 taught me Italian I " Then, in imperfect 
 words, she informed the stranger she was 
 amongst friends, though those whom she 
 mentioned were not present. 
 
 " Je parle Francois : Je le parle ton- 
 jonr.s,'' was the agitated and eager an- 
 swer, — '*' et mhne V Anglais quelquefois. 
 Mais Oil snis-je, et a it sont-ils ^ P '* 
 
 Lady. Barbara now again assured her 
 she was in safety, adding, that those whom 
 she asked to see should be sent for imme- 
 diately. 
 
 ** I wish, I wish to go home directly,'^ 
 she exclaimed, in broken English: ** they 
 will be so wretched ! " 
 
 She then tried to rise; but her strength 
 
 failed her, and she fell back, nearly faint- 
 
 ,ing, on the mattress. — At this moment 
 
 the door of the hall was heard to opew, 
 
 * I speak French : I always speak it ; and 
 even English sometimes. But where am I, aild 
 where are they ?
 
 12 LOVE, MYSTERY/ 
 
 and O'Carrol appeared, followed by a 
 neighbouring surgeon. 
 
 '* Is it possible," eagerly asked Lady 
 Barbara, " that this lady can undertake to 
 go home to-night with safety ? " 
 
 " No," said he, feeling her pulse : ** it 
 would be at the hazard of her life : the 
 cold is intense, the night dark, and the 
 snow so untracked, that even were she 
 well, it would be tempting death to un- 
 dertake it." 
 
 *' Death!" said the stranger mourn- 
 fully t "Ohi that were happiness. But 
 I must live, must suffer, must — Well ! 
 God's will be done ! I must stay where I 
 am. But who are you, sweet creature ? " 
 
 ** I am called Lady Barbara Delmayne ; 
 
 and you are in the castle of my father, 
 
 cWho, with my mother, is unfortunately 
 
 absent ; and this is Father Vincent, our 
 
 .chaplain." 
 
 The lady bent her head reverently to
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 13 
 
 the priest, who gave her his blessing, and 
 bade her be comforted ; he then remind- 
 ed her of her providential escape. 
 
 *' Providential indeed ! But where is he 
 who was made the instrument of my pre- 
 servation ?'' 
 
 O'Carrol was now forced forward by 
 .Donald, whose face was nearly enveloped 
 in a large black handkerchief. The lady 
 beckoned O'Carrol to approach her. 
 
 " You have saved my life; and wretch- 
 ed as it is,. I thank you. There are those 
 who will thank you also, and reward you 
 too." 
 
 " I ask no reward, lady ; I only did my 
 duty. I saw you perishing, and I tried 
 to save you, that's all : and you are saved, 
 and that's reward sufficient." 
 
 " An approving conscience is indeed 
 its own reward," said the lady, sighing, 
 '* and may- it ever be yours, kind young 
 man ! But when will morning dawn ? for 
 I do so wish to go home ! "
 
 14 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 ^' We will send you home when you 
 are able to go; and in the meanwhile, as 
 soon as it is day, we will dispatch a mes-- 
 senger to your friends. Do they hve far 
 off?" 
 
 " About four miles, I believe, at the 
 village of Greenval.*' 
 
 '' Oh ! I know it v/ell," cried Donald 
 in a low voice; " and I will go my- 
 self." 
 
 Lady Barbara now asked, for whose 
 house he was to inquire. 
 
 *^ For the house of Mr. Dupont," said, 
 the lady in a faltering tone ; ** and beg 
 him to send for me as soon as possible." 
 
 Donald bowed very low, promised im- 
 p?icit obedience, and withdrew. 
 
 " I am sorry you are in such a hurry 
 to leave us," said Lady Barbara; ** but 
 I have no right to interfere." • 
 
 " Your ladyship must interfere, to 
 persuade this lady to try to sleep," said 
 the surgeon.
 
 AND SUPERSTITION'. 15 
 
 *' To sleep ? " exclaimed the lady. " OH, 
 no ! I have a terror of sleep." 
 
 She was at length, however, persuade^ 
 to take an anodyne draught, and, after 
 much importunity, to go to bed. While 
 she was undressing, she for the first time 
 missed her picture, and inquired for it 
 with trembling anxiety. 
 
 " I have it here," said Mrs. Mendham, 
 taking it from her pocket, "and a precious 
 thing it is. If those are real diamonds, 
 they might make a duchess proud." 
 
 '' But not happy," said the stranger, 
 pressing the picture to her lip.. *' This 
 inanimate ivory is what I value." 
 
 " So should I," observed Lady Barbara, 
 ** if I loved any one resembling that face." 
 
 " It is — yes, it is like you,'' said the 
 stranger with surprise, and gazing oh 
 Lady Barbara: "how singular!" But not 
 choosing to satisfy the curiosity which 
 she saw depicted on the countenance of
 
 16 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 her young hostess, she fastened the ri- 
 band round her neck herself, and hid the 
 picture in her bosom. 
 
 Mrs. Mendham now brought the night- 
 clothes, which the stranger insisted on be- 
 ing allowed to put on without help : but 
 as the former had conceived some suspi- 
 cions which she was eager to remove, or 
 confirm, she persisted so resolutely, that 
 the latter was forced to accept her assist- 
 ance; and as she gave it, she started back 
 with an expression of horror in her face, 
 and, crossing herself, stood gazing on the 
 consciour' lady with a look of strange scru- 
 tiny. Mrs. Mendham soon after abruptly 
 quitted the chamber. The stranger was 
 now removed to her pillow, and was com- 
 fortably settled when the housekeeper re- 
 turned. Approaching the lady, she de- 
 sired to know whether she would not wish 
 to see Father Vincent before she settled 
 for the night.
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 17 
 
 ^* No," she meekly replied; '* I have 
 nothing to say to him." 
 
 ** What means this interference .^ " 
 cried Lady Barbara angrily. 
 
 "I am sure 'twas well meant," said 
 Mrs. Mendham ; " for few of us would 
 like to die without confession and the 
 rites of the church, my lady, and if — " 
 
 Lady Barbara was about to interrupt 
 her with great indignation, when a tap- 
 ping at the door was heard, and Father 
 Vincent himself now entered the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 " Whence this intrusion, father .^" ex- 
 claimed Lady Barbara; but before he 
 could reply, the lady with a significant 
 smile desired him to approach. 
 
 " Shall I bid every one withdraw .'^" 
 gaid he in a solemn tone. 
 
 " No, not one — I have nothing for 
 your private ear. My mind is at present 
 burthened by nothing but the fulness of
 
 18 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 :^ratitucl€ to Heaven and to my pre- 
 servers." 
 
 *' But if you should have a relapse ?" 
 " If I have, I trust there will be time 
 allowed me to summon you and your 
 holy aid, father. And if not, be sa- 
 tisfied to learn, that before I set off on 
 my pilgrimage, I had performed all my 
 religious duties: and when you remember y 
 father," she added, casting a meaning 
 glance at him, "the severe duty in the 
 performance of which I nearly lost my 
 life, and other circumstances of which I 
 , believe you to be aware, you cannot sup- 
 pose I do not feel comforted by the blest 
 :assurance that ' there is joy in heaven 
 over the sinner that repenteth.' " 
 
 The priest looked confused, crossed 
 himself, and departed; and while the 
 latter in a petulant tone demanded of 
 Lady Barbara what was next to be done, 
 " Again I beg, I entreat, that you will
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 19 
 
 retire to rest, and your lady also," said 
 the stranger. But Lady Barbara was fixed 
 to stay : she however desired the other 
 bed to be made ready for her, and insisted 
 that Mrs. Mendham should go back to 
 her own apartment. 
 
 Lady Barbara now seated herself in a 
 chair, and prepared to watch by her in- 
 teresting charge. 
 
 At fifteen and a half, and Lady Barbara 
 was no more, the hnportarice of such an 
 office was very grateful; and what a fine in- 
 cident she thought it would be to tell her 
 cousin Aubrey ! But as the stranger de- 
 clared she could not sleep, her gentle 
 nurse thought there could be no harm in 
 a little conversation, with a view of elicifc- 
 ing some particulars of the lady's story,: 
 and she proceeded to give her a short de- 
 tail of her own family and connexions. 
 
 " My father and mother," said she, 
 "are gone to London to pay their re-
 
 20 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 spects at Whitehall ; but it is for the 
 first time, as the earl was a friend to the 
 exiled family, and the oaths have not sat 
 veiy easily on his mind. But William 
 Tyrconnel, a distant relation, who is heir 
 to my father's title, and Aubrey his bro- 
 ther, are great favourites with the new 
 sovereign, and have at last prevailed on 
 my father to go to court. Tyrconnel is 
 very clever, has travelled a great deal, and 
 thought and read more. You must 
 know that it is intended he should marry 
 me, and therefore he has great influence 
 here ; but he and I intend no such thing. 
 His brother Aubrey is far more lively 
 than he is. Oh so lively! and though 
 he has not travelled much, he is quite 
 master of Italian, and has taught me to 
 read it at least. But he speaks it so 
 well ! Oh ! I wish he was here for your 
 sake." 
 
 " Not for my sake only.**
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 21 
 
 *' Oh jio ! not entirely ; because I like 
 my cousin Aubrey excessively." 
 
 " And does he not like you, sweet 
 girl?" 
 
 '' Oh dear, yes ! I hope so. Nay, I 
 am sure so." 
 
 " But then your parents' wishes are 
 for your union with the elder brother .'' " 
 " Yes ; but Tyrconnel is not in love 
 with me." 
 
 " And Aubrey is .^" 
 
 " Why, yes ; I think he is ; but there 
 
 is a long time before us yet. I am not 
 
 sixteen, and I assure you I have no wish 
 
 to be married before I am seventeen. My 
 
 elder sister, indeed, married at sixteen, 
 
 but I think seventeen quite early enough." 
 
 " So do I," said the stranger, sighing; 
 
 ** and then it is necessary that a parent's 
 
 blessing should accompany a child to the 
 
 altar. No vows, I believe, are blessed of 
 
 God our Father in heaven, that are not
 
 22 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 first blessed by his representatives on' 
 earth.'* Here she paused in some agita- 
 tion. Lady Barbara now felt her curiosity 
 strongly raised, but it was as quickly sup- 
 pressed by respect and delicacy ; and when 
 her companion stretched forth her hand 
 to her, smiling through her tears, and 
 looked at her as if expecting her to speak, 
 she only said, 
 
 " I never will marry without my pa- 
 rents' consent ; and I think they will let 
 me marry the younger brother, as the 
 elder will not have me. Aubrey has an 
 independent fortune left him by an aunt. 
 Oh, I wish you could see him ! He will be 
 here in a day or two, and so will my fa- 
 ther and mother ; and if you would but 
 stay here till then. Is it impossible V* 
 ' *•' Quite, lam sure; even if I wished to' 
 stay, Rinaldo, that is, Mr. Dupont I 
 mean, would never consent." 
 
 ** Is Mr. Dupont's name Rinaldo ?"
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 23 
 
 " It — that is, I call him so someti mes , 
 which is very foolish; he is called Ber-- 
 tram Dupont, a Swiss name ; of a Swiss 
 family.'' 
 
 " And he is your husband .^ " 
 
 " My husband ! " exclaimed the lady. 
 " Alas ! he is my brother !" 
 
 " But prpy who is the Rosalie you 
 talked of?" 
 
 " I ! did I talk of Rosalie ? When ?" 
 
 " When you first recovered." 
 
 " Ah ! very likely ; I awoke as from a 
 dream." 
 
 " Rosalie is the name of a sweet girl 
 that lives with Mr. Dupont and me, and 
 is under our care." • 
 
 " How I should like to know her ! " 
 
 ^' Would you could!" 
 
 *' But, as you are not Mr. Dupont's 
 wife, your name is not Dupont." 
 
 ** My name, the only name I wish to 
 be called by, is Madeleine."
 
 24 LOVE^ MYSTERY, 
 
 " Madeleine ! How romantic ! — -what 
 pretty names: Eosalie, Madeleine, Ri- 
 naldo!" 
 
 " No, no, — not Rinaldo, I beseech 
 your 
 
 . " Well, then, be sball be plain Mon- 
 sieur Bertram Dupont, But I am well 
 read in Tasso, and Rinaldo is a favourite 
 hero of mine ; and I am sure, when well, 
 you are, or must have been, quite hand- 
 some enough for an Armida." 
 
 "An Armida! What a comparison!" 
 
 '* I could only mean in beauty," has- 
 tily added Lady Barbara, distiessed at the 
 agonized expression which the 5tr^nger*s 
 countenance assumed. .. 
 
 "Alas!" exclaimed the lady,, seizing 
 her hand, "was not Armida a seducer?" 
 
 " Yes ; but then the fault was mutual, 
 and Armida loved Rinaldo quite as ten- 
 derly as he loved her." 
 
 " True, most true ; but then had she not
 
 AKD SUPERSTITION. 25 
 
 tempted, Rinaldo had not fallen. Let us, 
 sweet girl, if we must talk of such things, 
 talk of Tancredi and Clorinda, where love 
 was united to purity and piety." 
 
 " It is not necessary to talk of either ; 
 and indeed,"added Lady Barbara, " I had 
 much rather talk of a more interesting 
 subject, y ours elf r 
 
 -Of me!" 
 
 ** Yes : but your voice grows faint, and 
 your eyelids seem heavy." 
 
 " You are right. It is an exer£ion to 
 me to speak loud. Come nearer me, dear 
 child." 
 
 Lady Barbara obeyed, and, sitting on 
 the side of the bed, leaned over her pil- 
 low. Never was there a more complete 
 contrast than that exhibited by Lady Bar- 
 bara and her charge. The latter was pale 
 and thin almost to emaciation ; her eyes 
 were dark, and shaded with still darker 
 eye-lashes ; while her black and glossy 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 -LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 hair^ parted ^ la Madonna on the fore- 
 head, was twisted round her small and 
 g'faceful head ; and her countenance told 
 a tale of deep sorrow, sorrow borne with 
 resignation, but felt bitterly, and to be 
 felt for ever. She seemed also to have 
 been faded by affliction, not by years. 
 
 The happy being who leaned affection- 
 ately over her looked, on the contrary, all 
 the happiness which she felt. Hope and 
 gladness sparkled in her bright blue eyes, 
 and her face glowed with the tints of 
 health ; while glossy ringlets burst from 
 their confinement over her flushed and 
 dimpled cheek, and her night-gown 
 marked out the finely-fashioned form and 
 limbs beneath it. 
 
 . ** Sweet lovely girl!" cried the. stranger 
 as she gazed on her, " may no cloud dim 
 the brightness of thy lustre ! May no 
 self-confidence betray thee ! , May thy 
 course on earth be long and pure, and
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 27 
 
 mayest thou resign thy breath innocent 
 as thou art at present ! And thou hast 
 a mother. Happy woman! and she may 
 kiss thee, and clasp thee to her heart, and 
 shed over thee the deHghtful tears of ma- 
 ternal fondness. Happy, happy woman I 
 how I envy her!" 
 
 Here she groaned aloud. The kind 
 girl for a moment or two could not speak ; 
 at length she timidly said, " O that I 
 were worthy to know the cause of this 
 mysterious grief! and O that I could 
 alleviate it ! " 
 
 " Both are impossible," repHed the 
 lady in a solemn tone of voice : " but it 
 were better for us to talk no more. I 
 feel as if I could sle^p now." Then of- 
 fering her faded lip to the full and crim- 
 son one of the youthful being beside her, 
 she turned to rest. 
 
 Lady Barbara, left to silence and her 
 own reflections, struggled some minutes 
 c2
 
 8 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 against the approaches of sleep, but in 
 vain ; when seeing the lady was in a 
 calm slumber, she gently stole to her own 
 bed, and soon forgot her curiosity, and 
 even Aubrey Tyrconnel, 
 
 The sun had been risen a full hour be- 
 fore she awoke to a recollection of where 
 she was, and the transactions of the pre- 
 ceding evening. The fire still burnt on 
 the hearth, and Lady Barbara, having 
 heaped fresh faggots on it, turned on tip- 
 toe to the bed of the stranger: but she 
 forgot that no tiptoe motion could pre- 
 serve the sleep of one whose slumbers 
 were invaded by the crackling of green 
 wood ; and the noise soon woke the lady 
 so completely, that she was immediately 
 conscious where she was, and held out her 
 emaciated hand. To Lady Barbara's in- 
 quiries after her health, she repHed, 
 that she had passed the most comfort- 
 able because the most unconscio^iSi night
 
 AND ^SUPERSTITION. *29 
 
 she had known for years ; but that she 
 felt great pain in her limbs, and wished, 
 if the day was not far advanced, to remain 
 in bed a little longer. Lady Barbara de- 
 clared it was wise to remain tliere, how- 
 ever late it might be : then ringing for 
 servants, she insisted on it that breakfast 
 would be the next best thing for her 
 g^aest. 
 
 The housekeeper now entered the room 
 with Lady Barbara's own woman ; and 
 while her lady v/as dressing, she ap- 
 roached the stranger, and told her that 
 the gentleman whom she sent for would 
 arrive very soon. 
 
 *' Soon! Is it possible .^" cried she, 
 starting up with a countenance where 
 ♦>leasure and pain seemed struggling for 
 nmstery. 
 
 ^' Yes, very possible : for it seems a mes- 
 senger set off for Greenval before day- 
 break, and it is now near nine o'clock."
 
 •^0 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 " As this is the case,'' said the stranger, 
 " I will endeavour to get up before Dupont 
 comes." 
 
 " No, no/' cried Lady Barbara, " I 
 will not allow it indeed; and hither comes 
 tlie surgeon himself to forbid such an act 
 of suicide." 
 
 " Not absolute suicide, my Lady," he 
 repjied, after feeling her pulse : " there is 
 no fever at present, and the night I find 
 has been a good one. Let us now try to 
 revive the patient by a little breakfast.*' 
 
 Soon the hand became trembling that 
 conveyed the coffee to her lip, and vainly 
 did she attempt to eat the offered viands ; 
 while Lady Barbara could not behold 
 her suddenly increased emotion, and the 
 universal shaking of her frame, without 
 secretly wondering what had occasioned 
 it. Father Vincent now knocked at the 
 door, to say that the gentleman was ar« 
 rived.
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 3 1 
 
 *' I was sure of that, for I heard his 
 voice at a distance," exclaimed the stran- 
 ger in great agitation. *' Pray show him 
 hither directly." 
 
 Lady Barbara, who was kneeling by 
 the bed-side, now rose, and motioned to 
 every one to leave the room. She was 
 preparing to follow them, when the lady 
 begged her to give her the cordial ; whicli 
 she had only just swallowed as the 
 stranger hastily entered tliC apartment.' 
 
 " What a Rinaldo ! '' involuntarily, 
 though in a low tone of voice, ejaculated 
 Lady Barbara ; but what she said or what 
 she did was alike unheeded by these two 
 mysterious beings. The lips of the lady 
 uttered no sound, although they moved ; 
 but her eyes swimming in tears were 
 fixed on "her brother, who with difficulty 
 suppoiced his trembling frame. He 
 too was silent, and in his wild but stead- 
 fast glance sternness seemed strange-
 
 32 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 ly struggling with tenderness ; till on ob- 
 serving Lady Barbara, with a look expres- 
 sive of awe mingled with astonishment 
 he exclaimed, " What do I see ? Lovely 
 vision, what art thou ?" 
 
 " It is Lady Barbara Delmayne," said 
 the lady with a meaning smile, which the 
 stranger immediately returned. Lady Bar- 
 bara believing that her presence was a 
 check on their mutual feelings, was now 
 hastening to the door, when Dupont in a 
 deep and plaintive tone exclaimed, " Stay, 
 young lady, stay ! I have nothing to say to 
 my sister which you may not hear ; and I 
 am impatient to thank you for your hos--, 
 pitality." 
 
 " No thanks are due to me, sir ; giyo 
 them all to O'Carrol, who snatched her 
 from destruction and brought her hither." 
 
 *' Bless him!" cried he, clasping his 
 hands convulsively together, and fixing 
 his eyes on his sister ; then turning them
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. ^?} 
 
 away with a shuddering emotion he buried 
 his face in his cloak. 
 
 " Yes, Dupont/' said she, " my escape 
 from death was miraculous ; I was found 
 senseless and — ^" 
 
 *' Name it not," he wildly exclaimed : 
 ** It is over, and thou art here !" 
 
 " But I am not alone, Madeleine ; Ro- 
 salie is vath me. Shall she come in ?''' 
 
 '* Oh, yes ! do let me see her," cried a 
 sweet voice ; and in another moment a 
 beiiatiful girl, after bowing timidly to 
 Lady Barbara, was by the pillow of Ma- 
 deleine. The lip of Madeleine, however, 
 courted not the pressure of hers, nor did 
 her arms open to receive her embrace ; 
 but such was the violence of her internal 
 struggle that she fainted away. 
 
 Rosalie screamed with terror ; and Lady 
 Barbara, ringing hastily for assistaiKre, 
 seemed in the mean while by looks to en- 
 treat aid from the hands of Dupout. 
 c5
 
 34 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 " O sir ! do help me to raise her," 
 cried Lady Barbara. 
 
 *' Let Rosalie," was his reply. But Ma- 
 deleine now slowly recovered ; and find- 
 ing it was on Rosalie's bosom that her head 
 reposed, she folded her arms round her 
 for one moment, then coldly desired her 
 to withdraw, and conquer her eihotions. 
 
 ** I hope, sir," said Dupont, address- 
 ing the surgeon who now entered, " that 
 you tbinlc this lady able to bear a journey 
 of a few miles ?" 
 
 *' Oh, no, impossible, impossible!" 
 cried Lady Barbara. ^ 
 
 The surgeon, however, thought differ- 
 ently, and only stipulated that she should 
 be well wrapped up, and be conveyed in 
 the easiest nianner. 
 
 ** Come, Rosalie," criedDuporit ; '*'^ and 
 while our dear Madeleine gets ready, let 
 us go thank the preserver of her life.'* 
 
 Lady Barbara was now attracted differ-
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 6D 
 
 ent ways : she did not like to leave Ma- 
 deleine, yet she wished to witness their 
 interview with O'Carrol, and also to see 
 the beautiful Rosahe's manner on the'oc- 
 casion ; for though Rosalie was near two 
 years her junior, as she had been told, she 
 perceived that she had a povver of self-com- 
 mand even beyond her years. But the 
 struggle in her mind was soon ended by 
 Madeleine herself, who desired her to go 
 after her friends, and hear what Dupont 
 said to her preserver. Oh, how swiftly did 
 Lady Barbara bound along the oaken 
 ^tairs, . cross tTie marble hall, -and reach 
 the parlour where Dupont and Rosalie 
 were awaiting O'Carrol ! The former was 
 traversing the floor with long but rapid 
 strides. At sight of her he' stopped, and 
 eagerly said, " She is not Worse ? No re- 
 aps e, I hope ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! and she is dressing herself 
 as fast as weakness will allow."
 
 M LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 Dupont then bowed^ sighed, and re- 
 sumed his restless motion ; while Lady 
 Barbara gazed upon him with a variety of 
 mingled sensations. 
 
 He was tall almost to a fault ; and sor- 
 row or sickness had evidently worn him 
 greatly, while the large proportions of his 
 muscular figure were increased by a long 
 mantle of black serge, worn like an Ita- 
 ViSinfirrwia, and falling in graceful dra- 
 p^y from his shoulder. His features were 
 large and regular ; and his eyes ! — Lady 
 Barbara thought she had never seen such 
 eyes before, — so dark, so wild, so mourn- 
 ful, so stern, and yet at times so sweet 
 and so expressive 1 His lips had once, she 
 thought, been full and red; but strong 
 emotion, or perpetual care, had given him 
 a habit of contracting them till the under 
 one was rarely visible ; and the same 
 causes had prematurely printed on the 
 smooth front of manhood the lines of old
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 37 
 
 age. And then his voice ! She had never 
 heard so fine a one, so full, and deep, and 
 plaintive! To be sure, he is not the Hi- 
 naldo in the book : still, though not my 
 hero, he looks as grand, and holds his head 
 as loftily as any prince in Christendom. 
 But who and what is he ? He a private 
 Swiss gentleman, and she a private Swiss 
 lady '^ It cannot be ; for lofty birth and 
 high pretensions mark their port and 
 countenance : certainly there is abundarrt 
 mystery about them. 
 
 Then that sweet though cold being, Ro- 
 salie ! She fancied she was like them 
 both. Oh ! never was a romantic girl, not 
 auite sixteen, so curious and so bewilder- 
 ed, yet so pleased as Lady Barbara Del- 
 mayne. Tliis was indeed an adventure, 
 and how Aubrey would enjoy it ! 
 
 While all these thoughts were shoot- 
 ing with the rapidity of lightning through 
 her head, Rosalie was not without her
 
 38 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 thoughts and her wishes. She had Unlced 
 her arm in that of her lovely hostess, and 
 was saying to herself, *' O that I might 
 stay a while in this fine castle, and with 
 this beautiful young lady!" and Lady 
 Barbara felt that she pressed her arm 
 gently to her side. She rephed to the 
 pressure by clasping the hand next to her, 
 and was about to express her hopes that 
 this casual meeting would be followed by . 
 many. others, when O'Carrol, introduced 
 by Donald, entered the parlour. 
 
 " This is O'Carrol," said Lady Barbara 
 to Dupont, who instantly grasped his 
 hand with the convulsive pressure of 
 strong emotion, while his right arm was 
 lifted up as if in the attitude of blessing 
 him. " I thank thee", burst in broken 
 accents from his quivering lip. 
 
 Rosalie, meanwhile had pressed O'Car- 
 rol's hand to her lips. *^ She can feel 
 acutely, then," thought Lady Barbara;
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 39 
 
 " and lie too ;" and while she gazed on 
 those evident marks of strong, deep, 
 though subdued feeUng, an unconscious 
 tear stood on her crimson cheek. Du- 
 pont now turned round, and his eye rested 
 on that lovely face glittering with the tears 
 of unaffected feeling. 
 
 Instantly those speaking eyes lighted 
 up with the most marked expression of 
 pleasure and approbation ; and taking her 
 hand in a manner at once affectionate yet 
 respectful^ he imprinted a kiss upon her 
 fair and polished forehead, saying as 
 he did so, " Daughter of a noble house, 
 be thou ever as now thou art, its pride and 
 its ornament ! " 
 
 Lady Barbara could only answer by 
 bending her head in silent and grateful 
 reverence. ** Strange, mysterious being ! " 
 thought she; " I, though an earl's daugh- 
 ter, feel myself flattered by a kiss and a 
 (Complimentary wish from an odd-looking
 
 40 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 Stranger, a private obscure person whom 
 nobody knows." 
 
 Lady Barbara at this moment almost 
 started to observe how sternly Rosalie 
 was gazing on her ; and she was going to 
 speak to her, when perceiving Donald, 
 and remembering she had not seen him 
 since his expedition to Greenval, she 
 called him to her, and said ** You were 
 always a kind-hearted creature, Donald, 
 and I thank you for going to Greenval as 
 you did, and in such pain too, at an hour 
 when no one could have required it of you. 
 I assure you, you shall be rewarded." 
 
 Donald with great effect ejaculated, 
 " God bless you, Lady Barbara ! God 
 bless my lord and lady ! " then ran out 
 pf the room. He soon returned, however, 
 equipped for a journey, and wrapped up 
 in a large horseman's coat. 
 
 ** But how is this ?'' cried Lady Bar- 
 bara. " Whither are you going, Donald ? "-
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 41 
 
 ** With your permission, madam," said 
 Dupont, " he is going to ride back the horse 
 on which he accompanied me hither." 
 
 " Oh, by all means," courteously re- 
 plied Lady Barbara ; ** but if you must go, 
 may we not hope to see you here again ?" 
 ** That must depend on circumstances," 
 was the evasive reply. 
 
 " But this young lady, may she not 
 remain with me ? or, if not, can we not 
 fix a day for her return ?'' 
 
 But Dupont coldl)' replied, " Not 
 now, not now : besides, you forget, young 
 lady, that you are not the mistress of the 
 house." 
 
 " Oh, if that be all the objection," she 
 eagerly exclaimed, ** I am sure my mo- 
 ther will wait on you to request this plea- 
 sure herself. Indeed I cannot bear to 
 think we shall not meet again." 
 
 Rosalie at these words turned suddenly 
 round with a look of satisfaction : but
 
 42 LOVE^ MYSTERY, 
 
 when she saw that Dupont, was raishig 
 Lady Barbara's hand to his lips, it seemed 
 as if the sight was strangely displeasing 
 to her, for she started back, and resumed 
 her coldest manner and her sternest ex- 
 pression. 
 
 " Donald,'* cried Dupont at this mo- 
 ment, ''is every thing ready ?" 
 
 '' Yes, sir." 
 
 *' Then we only wait for my sister : is 
 she coming .^" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; the lady is now leaving her 
 room, and here I believe she comes ;" for 
 the dome of the saloon at the top of the 
 high marble staircase now opened, and 
 Madeleine appeared, supported by the 
 priest and the housekeeper. 
 
 '' Now then, my good man," said Du- 
 pont to Donald, " be so good as to go 
 and see that my chaise is come round to 
 the gate." 
 
 Donald bowed, but hesitated one mo-
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 43 
 
 inent before he obeyed. He looked at 
 Lady Barbara, and seemed as if he wished 
 to speak, but could not ; then, without 
 further word or look, he ran out of the 
 apartment. 
 
 " I fear you were too hospitable to 
 poor Donald," said Lady Barbara, " and 
 gave him drink too potent for his head 
 this morning, for he is not like himself. 
 I hope your horse is a safe one, sir .^" 
 
 " Believe me," cried Dupont, "Donald 
 is in no kind of danger." 
 
 Lady Barbara now turned to receive the 
 last thanks and farewell of Madeleine. It 
 was the first time she had seen her stand- 
 ing; and as she gazed upon her tall 
 and graceful person, and on her fine 
 though faded face, which were both set 
 off by her black hood and cape, and the 
 long pilgrim's cloak which hung loosely 
 round her, she felt the expression of her 
 affectionate feelings checked by a sensa-
 
 44 LOVE, JHYSTERY, 
 
 tion of reverence and awe ; and Instead of 
 meeting her with a kiss, she only pressed 
 her offered hand. 
 
 " Come, Madeleine,'* said Dupont in 
 a hurried voice, " come, I hate long 
 fidieus ;" and she advanced to embrace 
 Lady Barbara. 
 
 ** Oh, do promise that you will come 
 hither again, or let me visit you," cried 
 Lady Barbara. 
 
 ** It is my earnest wish," an'swered Ma- 
 deleine, " to do both ;" but Rosalie was 
 silent. 
 
 '; Dupont now, turning to the priest and 
 O'Carrol, begged that one of them would 
 bear the lady to the carriage. 
 
 ** Had you not better carry her yourself V 
 asked Lady Barbara in a tone of surpiise. 
 
 *' No," was his laconic reply. 
 
 By this time the great gates of the 
 castle were thrown open, and O'Carrol 
 advanced to assist Madeleine, who in tear-
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 45 
 
 ful silence printed a fervent kiss on the 
 lips of Lady Barbara. 
 
 " We shall meet again, sweet girl, I 
 trust," said she in a faltering voice. " I 
 leave you my blessing and my thanks." 
 
 O'Carrol then lifted her in his arms, 
 and she was soon placed in the carriage. 
 
 Rosalie had now resumed her cold man- 
 ner, and almost started back as if with 
 aversion, when Lady Barbara advanced 
 to salute her. She then, at the desire of 
 Dupont, took his arm down the last flight 
 of steps, and seated herself in the chaise ; 
 while Dupont, accompanied by O'Carrol, 
 returned into the hall to take leave of hia 
 young hostess. 
 
 It was unwillingly that Lady Barbara 
 had remained in the hall, and had not 
 attended her guests to the bottom of the 
 steps ; but a sense of her dignity as the 
 *' daugliter of a noble house" restrained 
 her eager feet. 
 
 I ■ ■
 
 46 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 When Dupont returned into the hall, 
 he took a crucifix from his bosom, and, 
 returning to O'Carrol, said, ** I am told 
 that you are too rich, young man, to need 
 a pecuniary recompense ; but receive this ; 
 wear it for my sake, O'Carrol, and re- 
 member that it was given in reward of 
 a humane and benevolent action : may 
 it remind thee and strengthen thee to 
 persevere in the practice of Christian 
 duty ! Now, I have only to bid you fare- 
 well, kind and lovely being! I know you 
 will often think of us ; and I beseech yoUi 
 do so with Christian charity. I shall al- 
 ways think of you with afFectionategra- 
 titude. Farewell : farewell to you all, and 
 Peace be with this house! " 
 
 While he said this, the priest, O'Car- 
 rol, the housekeeper, and several of the 
 domestics had ranged themselves on 
 either side of their young lady, and front- 
 ed the majestic stranger, who, letting fall
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 47 
 
 liis mantle as he reached the gate, turned 
 once more round, and, raising his arms to 
 heaven, gracefully waved them over their 
 heads, as if bestowing his benediction, 
 while they bowed themselves reverently 
 before him ; then folding his mantle round 
 him, he hastened down the steps, and in 
 another minute the carriage was heard 
 driving from the door. 
 
 Lady Barbara turned away with a full 
 heart ; and then slowly walking up the 
 marble stairs, she locked herself into the 
 saloon, and threw herself on a couch ; 
 but starting up again, she ran to a window 
 in front of the house, which commanded 
 the park, and followed with her eyes the 
 course of the travellers. 
 
 " Well, at least I shall hear of them 
 .when Donald returns," she exclaimed ; 
 and remembering that she had not yet 
 seen the crucifix which Dupont had given 
 ti)0*Carrol, she summoned him into the
 
 48 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 saloon. He came accompanied by the 
 priest and Mrs, Mendham. 
 
 ** It is very handsome," said O'Carrol. 
 
 ** I have rarely seen one so handsome," 
 observed the priest. 
 
 " And to give it away was handsomer 
 still," cried the house -keeper. " I must 
 say, whatever else she may be, the lady is 
 very generous." 
 
 So saying, she produced a double louis 
 d'or which Madeleine had given her. 
 
 " Wliatever else she may be ! " echoed 
 Lady Barbara. ** Remember the stranger's 
 parting injunction, that we should judge 
 them with Christian charity ; and let 
 me hear no more such insinuations aS' 
 these." 
 
 Lady Barbara seeing that the priest was 
 going to speak rather angrily, asked him 
 whether he did not think the stranger had 
 the appearance of being an ecclesiastic. 
 
 '* I have no doubt of it," he replied ;
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 49 
 
 " I have seen a print or picture like him 
 somewhere, though where I know not." 
 " I wish / had a print of him," said 
 Lady Barbara, '* for he has the most strik- 
 ing face and is the most graceful man 
 I ever saw." 
 
 . As soon as she was alone, Lady Bar- 
 bara laid down the book which she had 
 taken up, for she found that she could 
 not read, and she sat for an hour or two 
 leaning on her elbow, patting the floor 
 with the point of her foot, and indulging in 
 strange but interesting fancies and recol- 
 lections ; but she was sometimes inclined 
 tq- think it was only a dream, all the oc- 
 ^rrences of the night and of the day 
 seemed so improbable and so romantic, 
 jlowever, she had perhaps, in spite of 
 mysterious appearances, made a valuable 
 acquaintance ; and then she could not 
 help wondering what Aubrey Tyrconnel 
 would think of the young Rosalie. To be 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 sure, she would be more to the taste of 
 William Tyrconnel, as he liked dark eyes, 
 nnd Aubrey could not bear them. Still 
 he must think her very handsome — in- 
 deed she should not forgive him if he did 
 not. As to William, he would probably 
 fall in love with her. But then his father, 
 Lord Bellamore, would never approve his 
 marrying her, unless she was really some" 
 body. But then could any one doubt who 
 looked at all the three, but that they were 
 all somebody^ and somebody of conse- 
 quence .^ At last she worked up her ima- 
 gination to conceive that Dupont was ac- 
 tually a Cardinal in disguise ; that Ma- 
 deleine was his sister, and Rosalie some 
 other sister's daughter; and on those 
 thoughts alone, however improbable they 
 might be, her mind could find repose. 
 
 But how was she to get through this 
 day .'^ how beguile the time till Donald's 
 return .^ At the utmost, indeed, he
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. ^ I 
 
 conld not be gone more than four hours, 
 and she would read concerning Rinaldo 
 and Armida till then. But when four, six, 
 eight hours had passed away, and even 
 night, dark night, was come, and no Do- 
 nald appeared, her alarm superseded her 
 curiosity, for she feared that he had met 
 with some accident ; and it was a great 
 comfort to her mind that O'Carrol, who 
 had been passing the day in the servants' 
 hall, volunteered to accompany the foot- 
 man in search of him . 
 
 Upon reaching the house pointed out 
 to them as the residence of Mr. Dupont, 
 they knocked loudly at the door, but no 
 one came ; and the sounds seemed to 
 echo through empty apartments. How- 
 ever, a woman from an adjoining cot- 
 tage advanced towards them. From her 
 they learnt that Mr. Dupont, on the 
 arrival of a messenger that mornirg, 
 paid and dismissed his two servant?, gave 
 D 2 
 
 U OF iU. J .,.
 
 OZ LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 the key of the house to her care, with a 
 letter to the landlord ; and then, taking 
 Miss RosaUe and his trunks, he drove 
 away in his queer-looking chaise, follow- 
 ed by the strange man on his Honour's 
 own horse : " and I have neither heard 
 nor seen any thing of them since," she 
 added : upon which, without further delay, 
 O'Carrol mounted his horse and gallop- 
 ed back to the castle. 
 
 Lady Barbara listened to his story with 
 the most painful interest. Why had 
 they so suddenly left their habitation ; 
 and, as it should seem, in consequence 
 of what Donald had said ? Yet surely 
 he at least meant to return, and not leave 
 thus abruptly a family to which he seem- 
 ed so much attached, 
 
 ** But, my lady," said the governess, 
 " we do not believe they tvere strangers 
 to Donald: his behaviour was very queer 
 when he first saw the lady."
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 53 
 
 " I must own," she replied, that I was 
 struck with the oddity of Donald's man- 
 ner then, and when on horseback. Gra- 
 cious powers ! who can these mysterious 
 persons be ? But no doubt Donald knew 
 them when he was abroad. However, it 
 is very certain that the lady did not 
 know she was not going back to Green- 
 val." 
 
 " I think / understand all this but 
 too tvell, and why poor Donald was asked 
 to ride the horse home; which," cried the 
 housekeeper, " no doubt he promised to 
 do, expecting to return ; but he will ne- 
 ver return again — no, never ! " 
 
 Here she burst into tears. 
 
 " And why not return again .^" 
 
 " Because that vile man, that Italian, 
 — for Italian he is, I am sure, — will make 
 away with him, now he is in his power, 
 for fear he should tell who he is ; as I 
 dare say he has committed murder, and
 
 54 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 been forced to fly his country, spite of his 
 crucifixes and his fine fly- about arms and 
 blessings." 
 
 Lady Barbara started and shuddered ; 
 the priest crossed himself, and owned 
 there was too much reason in what Mrs. 
 Mendham said ; for he did not hke his 
 countenance, and it was very strange that 
 he should want to employ another per- 
 son's servant, and one too who was in a 
 nobleman's service. 
 
 ** But," said O'Carrol, who was, like 
 Lady Barbara, very averse to think ill of 
 Dupont, " if Donald went away expect- 
 ing to return when the service for which 
 he was employed was performed, he has 
 •no doubt taken no change of clothes 
 with him ; and we shall find all his ac- 
 customed wardrobe in his room. Then 
 let us search that first, before we judge 
 others in this unchristian manner." 
 
 '' Spoken like yourself, O'Carrol," said
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. OO 
 
 Lady Barbara : "let the search be made 
 directly." 
 
 It was made ; and O'Carrol and the 
 others returned to say, that upon exa- 
 mining his room, they found, that though 
 Donald's liveries were on the bed, his 
 own two suits of plain clothes and his 
 Highknd dress were gone. Upon the 
 liveries was pinned a paper with these 
 words, " God bless and preserve you 
 all!" 
 
 ^' It is then evident," said Lady Bar- 
 bara, " that wherever he is, his life is in 
 no danger ; for he has with his own free 
 will left our service, and gone into that 
 of the strangers. Why he has done so 
 is a different question, and one I cannot 
 pretend to answer. — I am hurt and dis- 
 appointed by Donald's conduct; but I 
 should be ashamed to let the acquaint- 
 ance and events of a few hours, how- 
 ever interesting, engross my thoughts
 
 56 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 any longer. Come then, good father! 
 I challenge you to a game at chess, and 
 let us talk no more of what we can nei- 
 ther help nor explain." 
 
 Lady Barbara " talked this well," 
 though she spoke in a tone of pique: 
 but she overrated her own powers ; she 
 could not forget beings so interesting 
 and circumstances so strange. She was 
 therefore check-mated perpetually; and 
 she was very glad when her supper was 
 eaten, and the hour of bed-time was ar- 
 rived. It was late the next day before 
 Lady Barbara awoke to hear the welcome 
 tidings, that the earl and countess, with 
 Mr. Tyrconnel and his brother, were 
 within a few hours' journey of the 
 castle. 
 
 Never had Lady Barbara felt any hours 
 perhaps so long as these were ; but she 
 at length beheld the carriage enter the 
 gate, and ran on bounding step to meet
 
 AKD SUPERSTITION, 57 
 
 her parents. She reached the saloon at 
 one door, just as her mother and tlie 
 earl entered it at another, followed hv 
 Tyrconnel ; but when she saw them, her 
 power of utterance failed her; and wholly 
 unlike her usual self, she turned away and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 ** My darling child! my sweet girl! 
 my dear little cousin ! what has hap- 
 pened ? what is the matter ? " cried her 
 parents and Tyrconnel at once. 
 
 Lady Barbara would have found it 
 Very difficult to explain with precision 
 the causes of her emotion.. Perhaps 
 there is no feeling so painful, as that 
 which we experience when for the first 
 time in our lives we find that the attach- 
 ment on which we relied had in reality 
 n(» permanent existence. 
 
 Though Donald was only a servant, 
 Lady Barbara had recollected him froiv. 
 her childhood ; and she had believed hir. . 
 D 5
 
 58 LOVE, MYSTERr, 
 
 one of the firmest adherents of her fa- 
 ther's house, and one too who felt the 
 most devoted attachment to hei*self — ^yet 
 he had left their service under most my- 
 sterious circumstances r This w^as one 
 cause of her tears;, the other was the 
 flutter of spirits occasioned by the strange 
 occurrences of the eventful hours so re- 
 cently passed ; and a third, — though 
 Lady Barbara would not have Hked to 
 own it, — was her disappointment in not 
 seeing her cousin Aubrey : she had been 
 told he was coming, and she saw him 
 not !. 
 
 This last cause, however, speedily va- 
 nished ; for he entered the saloon fol- 
 lowed by the priest, who was earnestly 
 conversing with him. The earl now re- 
 (!eivedfrom the priest and the housekeeper 
 that information which Lady Barbara was 
 us yet unable to give. Aubrey meanwhile 
 stood aloof,, looking at Lady Barbara^ but
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 59 
 
 not approacliing her. This coldness made 
 her tears flow faster. 
 
 " Nay, now, sweet coiishi, the matter 
 grows too serious," cried Tyrconnel : 
 '* this great grief appals me. Poor little 
 dear ! what is the matter ? " and as he said 
 this, he gently rested her head on his 
 shoulder — " Your first tears I attributed 
 to joy at seeing me, but these seem to 
 flow in agony." 
 
 *' Nonsense! " said Lady Barbara, '' I 
 am not at all unhappy." 
 
 " No ! then be so good as to give m.e 
 one of your smiles again. Why, child, 
 gloom on thy merry face is like a frosty 
 night in the dog-days — so impossible, 
 one can hardly believe it though one sees 
 its white legacy on the ground. — Aubrey, 
 I begin to believe you have told Barbara 
 she looks prettiest in tears, and some 
 nonsense about blue flowers peeping 
 tlifough dew."
 
 60 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 " I ? Not I, indeed ! " replied Au- 
 brey ; " and if I had, I have not influ- 
 ence enough with her ladyship, I dare 
 say, to make her do any thing to please 
 me." 
 
 " Why, Aubrey ! what ails you, man ? 
 You are as little yourself as her lady- 
 sMpr 
 
 " Her ladyship / " echoed the wonder- 
 ing girl: but she had now courage to 
 look up rather saucily in Aubrey's face ; 
 for, with that quickness which belongs par- 
 ticularly to women where their affections 
 are concerned, she now was certain that 
 Aubrey spoke in pique ; but she said no 
 more. Her mother and Tyrconnel were 
 both listening to the narrative of the 
 priest. 
 
 " A fine-looking man did you say. 
 Father.'^" asked the earl. 
 
 " He was a tall raw-boned man, with 
 large dark eyes. I saw nothing fine about
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 61 
 
 him ; but Lady Barbara, as I was telling 
 Mr. Aubrey, my lord, thinks him charm- 
 ing, and the most handsome, striking and 
 graceful person she ever saw," 
 
 *' Indeed!" 
 
 " Yes, indeed, dear sir, when giving 
 his blessing." 
 
 " His blessing ! Was he a priest, 
 then ? " 
 
 " A priest ? " cried Aubrey, coming 
 nearer. 
 
 " Yes ; we fancy so." 
 
 ** And how old did he seem.^" asked 
 Lady Delmayne. 
 
 ** Between thirty and forty." 
 
 ** Nay, father," said Lady Barbara, *' he 
 must be full forty." 
 
 " Forty! " cried Aubrey, seating him- 
 self eagerly on a stool at Lady Barbara's 
 feet, and looking up in her face with 
 an expression which she understood; 
 while Tyrconnel whispered her, " Aubrey
 
 62 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 unbidden has placed himself on the stool 
 of repentance, for he is not jealous of a 
 youth of forty." 
 
 " How absurd ! " cried Lady Barbara, 
 on whose face smiles had superseded 
 tears. 
 
 *' Absurd, indeed ! " echoed Aubrey ; 
 and in another moment she felt the 
 hand which she had suffered to hang 
 down by her side, grasped in his trem- 
 bling fingers and pressed to his lips, 
 when no one but his brother could see 
 it. 
 
 Lady Barbara could now enter upon 
 her story, and had the satisfaction of 
 hearing her conduct entirely approved : 
 but the subject was not allowed to be 
 dropped ; and during the whole day 
 Lady Barbara had to answer some new 
 question or other from each of the 
 party. 
 
 "And so," cried William Tyrcoimel,
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 63 
 
 " this little Rosalie is very handsome, 
 is she ? " 
 
 " Little ! Dear, no ; though only thir- 
 teen, she is taller than I am." 
 
 " And still she may be more like a 
 pink than a holly-hock in stature. And 
 her eyes are dark ? " 
 
 *' Yes : I am sure ?/ou would fall in 
 love with her, Tyrconnel." 
 " And why not Aubrey P " 
 '' Because — because Aubre}' likes blue 
 eyes better than black." 
 
 *' And is there no ot/ie?' ' because ' that 
 you could give us ? " said Tyrconnel 
 archly smiling. 
 
 Lady Barbara blushed, and Aubrey 
 whispered in her ear, *' I could give an- 
 other." 
 
 The next day^ and every day for a 
 week afterwards, the mysterious visiters- 
 were talked of, and the probability of 
 hearing from them discussed: when as no
 
 64 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 news of them was received, they were 
 forgotten, except by Lady Barbara ; who, 
 in the midst of much nearer interests 
 and dearer ties, used frequently to say to 
 herself, " I wonder who they were, and 
 whether or not I shall ever see them 
 agam ! 
 
 END OF TART THE FIRST.
 
 LOVE, MYSTERY, AND 
 SUPERSTITION. 
 
 PART THE SECOND. 
 
 '' To you and to your honour I bequeath her 
 
 Six years had elapsed since the events 
 above narrated had occurred, and Lady 
 Barbara was become the vi^ife of Aubrey, 
 w^hen William Tyrconnel, his elder bro- 
 ther, was travelling in an unfrequented 
 part of the Isle of Wight. 
 
 He had been visiting Carisbrook Cas- 
 tle, and with no inconsiderable share of 
 mournful curiosity; for though a firm 
 friend to William III., he could not sur- 
 vey without much interest the scene of 
 the imprisonment of Charles I., and the 
 window whence he had vainly, alas ! at- 
 tempted to escape.
 
 66 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 Lord Bellamore, the father of Tyrcon- 
 nel, had recently purchased a seat near 
 Portsmouth, whence his son, though it 
 was now near the end of November, had 
 set off on his journey. In truth, he was 
 dissatisfied with his home. His father 
 had wished him to marry Lady Barbara ; 
 he saw therefore his second son carry off 
 the prize, with some feeling of disappoint- 
 ment : but there were other women as 
 beautiful, as rich, and as much to be 
 coveted for wives, Tyrconnel replied, 
 and all he asked was, to be allowed to 
 choose for himself. But this his father did 
 not seem willing to grant, and he often 
 filled his house with young ladies, in 
 hopes that at last Tyrconnel's heart 
 would be the victim of some one amongst 
 them. 
 
 But against these schemes that indepen- 
 dent heart rebelled; nor could he admire 
 the delicacy of the parents or the daugh-
 
 AND SUPERSTITION, 67 
 
 ters who were thus wUhng to bring them- 
 selves in array before him. Accordingly, 
 when a party of beauties and heiresses 
 were expected at Lord Bellamore's seat, 
 he declared his intention of setting off for 
 the Isle of AVight, not to return till he 
 had visited its wildest and most seques- 
 tered retreats. 
 
 On hearing this, Lord and Lady Bel- 
 lamore expostulated with him upon the 
 folly of making such a tour in such a 
 season, and in a country notorious for 
 the badness of its roads in winter. 
 
 *' But consider, dear sir," replied Tyr- 
 connel, "that every common-place tourist 
 would visit the island in summer ; it ac- 
 cords therefore with an eccentric being 
 like myself, to go thither when no one 
 else would : besides, as I shall travel on 
 horseback, the state of the roads does not 
 signify much to me; and as you, dear ma-
 
 68 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 dam, have often been so obliging as to 
 fear for the safety of my lungs, you 
 should rejoice that in an English winter 
 I shall breathe so mild and balmy an air." 
 
 *^ One question, William, and I have 
 done," said his father, well knowing that 
 his son had too much decision of charac- 
 ter to give up a design which had evi- 
 dently been much considered. ** One 
 question, and I charge you to answer it 
 sincerely : Have you no particular views 
 in your intended tour ?" 
 
 " Yes, my lord, I have : the views 
 round Cowes in particular." 
 
 " You trifle with me, and you know I 
 hate puns. I mean. Is there an Island 
 Queen to whom you are going to pay 
 court V 
 
 " Would there were, if she would al- 
 low me to share her dominion ! But as I 
 see you are serious in asking this ques-
 
 a:>d superstition. 69 
 
 tion, I as seriously answer A o, on my ho- 
 nour, I shall certainly pay a visit to my 
 friend Clarges, who lives near Carisbrook 
 Castle ; but w^hen I have seen him, I shall 
 have seen the only person whom I knov/ 
 in the island." X 
 
 " Enough, I am satisfied ; and shall 
 only add, that we shall impatiently ex- 
 pect your return." 
 
 Tyrconnel smiled to himself, when he 
 recollected this conversation, to think 
 that his father, by expressing his fear of 
 there being a favourite lady of his in the 
 Isle of Wight, had excited in him a 
 wish to find one ; and his imagination 
 thus awakened, he delighted, as his bark 
 glided across the ocean river, to picture 
 to himself at the door of a myrtle-covered 
 cottage some beautiful recluse who should 
 turn out to be a high-born beauty reduced 
 to poverty ; but who, unlike the high- 
 born beauties of his acquaintance, shouW
 
 70 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 fly With unaffected modesty from his pur- 
 suit, and blush with endearing timidity ut 
 witnessing the effect of her charms. 
 
 " What an idiot I am ! " thought he, 
 when his arrival on shore woke him from 
 his reverie; ^' what an idiot I am to 
 fancy delights not likely to be realized ! " 
 But he sighed as he said this ; and it is 
 certain that he looked eagerly, for two 
 days at least, at the door of every cottage 
 which looked smarter than another. 
 
 After spending two or three days (as 
 he had intended) in the neighbourhood of 
 Carisbrook, he set off for the wild coun- 
 try below Cliff. 
 
 The hand of art had not then, as now, 
 improved the luxuriance of the scenery : 
 but nature had covered the hills with 
 trees of the finest growth ; and as the 
 rocks and the shore had charms for the 
 lover of wild and rugged scenery, Tyr- 
 connel, though he had admired the
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 7l 
 
 charms of other countries, was too much 
 an Englishman not to be eager to do jus- 
 tice to those of his own . 
 
 He was attended only by a servant on 
 horseback, and even that attendant he had 
 been obliged to leave behind him on ac- 
 count of the lameness of his horse : still, 
 however, he persisted to continue his 
 route that evening, desiring his servant to 
 follow as he could the next day. But he 
 regretted his decision, when,having missed 
 the direct road to the place of his desti- 
 nation, he found himself, at eight o'clock 
 in the evening of a November night, tra- 
 velling in a mountainous country without 
 guide or companion^ and sheltered only 
 by a thin surtout from one of the heaviest 
 rains which he had ever experienced. 
 
 As the soil was of clay, it soon became 
 almost impossible for his horse to keep 
 his feet ; Tyrconnel was therefore forced 
 to dismount, and lead him by the bridle.
 
 72 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 But whither could he direct his steps ? 
 No twinkhng light declared his vicinity to 
 any house; and when he looked around, 
 he could only be sure that on one side of 
 him rose a mountain ; on the other side 
 there was, he suspected, a precipice ; and 
 he knew that the sea was at the foot of 
 it. His only safety, therefore, lay in as- 
 cending carefully the height above, and a 
 .sort of path which he could with diffi- 
 culty trace, seemed to afford him the 
 means. Still his difficulties were great, 
 as he was forced to drag after him his un- 
 willing horse, who once was nearly preci- 
 pitated down the steep and slippery path. 
 Tyrconnel, who was almost blinded by 
 the rain, as his hat was turned up in 
 front, according to the fashion of the 
 times, was often forced to stop in order 
 to take breath ; and at these moments he 
 could not help sighing, to think how his 
 fond parents would be agonized were they
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 73 
 
 conscious of his danger, and how gladly 
 they would have welcomed fear for the 
 heart of their son, in exchange for this 
 more painful apprehension. 
 
 *^ But am I really in peril?" exclaimed 
 Tyrconnel, starting at his own suggestion. 
 ^* Well, then, it is fit that I make .one great 
 effort to get out of it." Then breathing 
 a silent prayer, he exerted his utmost 
 strength, and found himself at last on the 
 place which he had struggled to reach ; 
 but he fell as soon as he had reached it 
 and his horse fell beside him. However, 
 he trusted that they were now both re- 
 moved from danger, and his heart glowed 
 with ferv^ent gratitude ; but it also glow- 
 ed with joy, when, on proceeding a few 
 paces further, he beheld at no great di- 
 stance an extensive building, and at one 
 end of it a light. Instantly re-mounting 
 his now recovered steed, he soon reached 
 what appeared to be the gate of a ruin. — 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 Still, however hopeless of hospitality, 
 he had resolved to knock loudly for ad- 
 mission, when a strain of sw^eet solemn 
 music broke upon his delighted senses 
 from the illuminated corner of the build- 
 ing. It was the evening service to the 
 Virgin, accompanied by the chords of 
 the harp ; while ever and anon one female 
 voice, clear yt^t touching in its tones, 
 was heard above the other, and some- 
 times unaccompanied, while every pulse 
 in his heart responded to the sound. 
 
 " This is indeed an adventure," 
 thought Tyrconnel, while with suspended 
 breath he continued to listen to the 
 strains. But at length he gained 
 courage to knock violently at the door, 
 and the music suddenly ceased ; a case- 
 ment was cautiously opened, and a deep 
 voice demanded who was there. 
 
 " A benighted traveller," replied Tyr« 
 connel, *' who only asks shelter for a
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 75 
 
 short time for himself and his horse, and 
 afterward a guide, if possible, to the next 
 town or inn." 
 
 The casement was then closed again ; 
 and in another instant a man unbarred 
 the gate, held up a dark lantern to the 
 face of Tyrconnel, and, uttering some in- 
 colierent exclamation, admitted Tyrcon- 
 nel and his horse into the porch, which 
 led into a large Gothic hall where a few 
 faintly-burning faggots lay expiring on 
 the capacious hearth, and hastily with- 
 drew. 
 
 '' A strange reception," thought Tyrcon- 
 nel, "at once hospitable and unhospita- 
 ble." But the idea had scarcely crossed 
 his mind, when another person ap- 
 peared, in whom Tyrconnel concluded 
 that he beheld the owner of the man- 
 sion ; for with great courtesy he bade 
 him w^elcome to w'hatever comfort his 
 roof afforded. As he said this, he heaped
 
 76 LOVE, mVsteky, 
 
 some wood upon the embers on the 
 hearth, and Tyrconnel speedily disencum- 
 bered himself of his wet hat with its 
 dripping feathers. On turning round to- 
 wards the gate, meaning to speak to the 
 servant, he found his host attentively re- 
 garding him; and if, as Tyrconnel fan- 
 cied, that look of earnest inquiry was one 
 of approval also, he was very sure that it 
 was met by him with one of admiration ; 
 for never had he seen a countenance of 
 more touching expression. But he was not 
 allowed to remain long in quiet con- 
 templation of it ; for his host insisted on 
 his taking off his wet garments, telling him 
 with a smile which did not seem a frequent 
 visiter of his faded lip, that he must sub- 
 ^niit for that evening to wear a garment 
 resembling his, for he was sure that his 
 own dress would not be dry till morning. 
 "Do you then mean to give me shelter 
 •for the whole night.^" said Tyrconnel,
 
 AND SUPERSTITION^; 17 
 
 shaking back, as he spoke, his auburn 
 hair, winch now fell almost deprived 
 of curl upon his manly shoulders, and 
 disclosed to full view a face lighted up 
 with an expression of grateful pleasure. 
 
 *' To be sure I do," repUed the other; 
 *' and a bed is already ordered for you. Why 
 do you look surprised ? Is my appearance 
 so very unpromising, that you expected 
 me to turn you out again into the piti- 
 less storm '^ Were such my nature and 
 my custom (said he), believe me, sir, for 
 your sake I should forgo them." 
 
 As he spoke these words, he grasped 
 TyrconneFs hand with evident emo- 
 tion. 
 
 *' This is very strange," thought Tyr- 
 connel, courteously returning the pres- 
 sure, and bowing as he did so in silent 
 gratitude ; for, though conscious that his 
 figure was good, and his face handsome, 
 he was surprised to find that he had made
 
 78 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 SO favourable an impression under such 
 circumstances. 
 
 " But I am not giving you a proof of 
 my hospitality," observed the stranger, 
 *' while I let you remain in your coat ;' 
 and leaving the room a few moments, he 
 returned with a large wrapping gown of 
 black serge. 
 
 Tyrconnel, who hoped he should at 
 length be introduced to the singer, was 
 involuntarily solicitous concerning his ap- 
 pearance, and took pains to restore his 
 hair to its wonted curling beauty ; while 
 he held his ruff to the fire, to make it 
 again fit for use, 
 
 " Psha!" cried he the next moment, 
 ashamed of his vanity ; " and after all, the 
 dinger may be the wife of my host, or the 
 wife of some one else, and ugly and dis- 
 agreeable besides . What an idiot I am !" 
 
 He now followed his conductor into an 
 apartment where supper awaited their
 
 AXD SUPERSTITION. 7^^ 
 
 coming. But neither whie^ nor ale, nor 
 viands of a very tempting nature, could 
 at first make Tvrconnel amends, when he 
 found no one in the apartment, and saw 
 the table prepared for two persons o?d^ ; 
 for his imagindtion, which had for some 
 time previously dwelt on the fancied re- 
 cluse at the door of the myrtle-covered 
 cottage, had now allowed itself to fancy a 
 recluse as beautiful in the unknown 
 singer of the ruined castle. But great as 
 was his disappointment, it did not take 
 away his appetite, though, whenever he 
 heard the tread of woman's foot over his 
 head, he flattered himself there was going 
 to be an addition to the party. But his 
 host did not even mention that he had a 
 lady residing with him, and Tyrconnel 
 was too consious of his own thoughts and 
 wishes to make any inquiries. At length 
 he ventured to say, 
 
 *' I cannot but admire, sir, the gene-
 
 80 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 rous confidence so indicative of a noble 
 mind, which has allowed you thus to shel- 
 ter a stranger travelling without a ser- 
 vant, and who might have thrown himself 
 upon your hospitality with evil inten- 
 tions." 
 
 " Your countenance," he replied, *' is 
 one that inspires confidence, and your air 
 and manner bespeak the gentleman. 
 Nay," he added with a smile of much, 
 meaning, ** I should not be surprised to 
 find that you are nobly born." 
 
 ** Indeed !" cried Tyrconnel, blushing 
 with pleased surprise: *' if your penetra- 
 tion, sir, is so great, I shall be afraid to 
 stay, lest you discover what I may wish 
 to conceal." 
 
 *' Heaven forbid," returned the other 
 gravely, "that you should ever have a 
 thought or feeling, while you are under 
 this roof, which ought to be concealed! 
 Young man, / believe you are worthy of
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 81 
 
 confidence, and to-morrow you shall have 
 a proof of mine. To-night^ however, I 
 wish you to retire early to rest : you 
 have undergone much fatigue. Permit me 
 to show you the way to your chamber : 
 but I must warn you, that this castle is 
 old and full of strange noises. However, 
 you may sleep too soundly to be disturb- 
 ed by them ; yet, should you hear aught 
 unusual, do not be alarmed, but turn, 
 and sleep again." 
 
 *' And will you not ask who I am, and 
 what I am.'^" said Tyrconnel smiling. 
 
 *' What would you think / am, were I 
 to tell you that I know your name al- 
 ready ? " 
 
 *' Impossible!" cried Tyrconnel, sur- 
 veying his host in his turn with a scruti- 
 nizing look. " No, no, I never saw you 
 before, for, if I had, I could not have for- 
 gotten you." 
 
 ** You never did see me, nor I you ; 
 e5
 
 82 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 and you shall, if you please, tell me your 
 name and quality ^ 
 
 *^ Quality ! What, then you are sure I 
 am a man of rank ? You are right ; my 
 name is Tyrconnel, and I am the son of 
 Lord Bellamore." 
 
 '* Are you Aubrey or William Tyrcon- 
 nel ?" eagerly asked his host. 
 
 " William, the elder son," replied Tyr- 
 connel in an accent of surprise. " How 
 strange it is that you should ask that 
 question ! " 
 
 " You may think so ; but come, I am 
 impatient till you are in a warm bed. 
 To-morrow I will be more communica- 
 tive." 
 
 They now reached the apartment de- 
 signed forTyrconnel; and the stranger with 
 a cordial pressure of his hand wished him 
 good night, and left him to his repose. 
 
 But though Tyrconnel slept, it was not 
 with unconscious sleep. His dreams were
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 83 
 
 full of tlie dangers he had passed : he still 
 trod on the slippery edge of the preci- 
 pice, still dragged after hiui a resisting 
 horse, still heard the appalling roar of the 
 ocean ; and when he started from his un- 
 quiet slumbers, it was to hear, on awak- 
 ing, the very sound which haunted his 
 dreams. The wind, too, howled along 
 the ruinous corridors of the building ; 
 mournful noises caught his attention, and 
 struggled, though for some time vainly, 
 with the power of sleep over his senses. 
 But again he was locked in deep though 
 restless slumbers, when a sudden blast of 
 wind rocked his apartment, displaced his 
 sword from his bedside, and woke him 
 completely — woke him not soon to rest 
 again ; for, between every gust, deep groans 
 as of one in ao;onv burst on his ear, and 
 he started from his bed in order to con- 
 vince himself that what he heard was not 
 the creation of fancy.
 
 84 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 Immediate conviction attended his 
 leaving the bed. The sounds were real, 
 and came from a room at no great di- 
 stance from his own. But what occasioned 
 them ? Perhaps the wind had shaken 
 down part of a wall or chimney, and had 
 buried some one in its fall. He could 
 not therefore hesitate a moment to offer 
 his aid; and gently though rapidly he 
 drew near the apartment whence the noise 
 proceeded, and distinctly heard, mixed 
 with the groans, the following words : — 
 '' O mercy, mercy, thou offended God ! " 
 This was followed by groans, as of a spirit 
 in agony. He could no longer forbear to 
 knock. " Who is there ?" replied a stern 
 voice ; and immediately the door was; 
 opened by his host, who, having thrown his 
 cloak over his apparently naked body, de- 
 manded in an angry tone and with a fierce 
 look why he did not remain in his bed. 
 
 " I could not," he replied; ** for I heard
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. So 
 
 the groans of some one in distress, and I 
 came in hopes to assist the sufferer." 
 
 *' Assist the sufferer ! Kind but deluded 
 youth !" exclaimed his host with a laugh 
 inconceivably horrid : " Tyrconnel, I told 
 you, whatever noises you heard, to turn 
 again and sleep. You have not regarded 
 my request ; but I honour the motives 
 which prevented you. Now return to 
 your chamber, and forget when we meet 
 again, that we have met now and thus." 
 
 Tyrconnel, shocked yet awed in spite 
 of himself into instant obedience, re- 
 turned as he was bidden to his apartment 
 but not to sleep ; for had he not almost 
 beheld a penitent sinner in the act of in- 
 flicting punishment on himself for some 
 conscious crime ? and if so, what was 
 that crime, and who was the criminal ? 
 
 He was now sure that the noise he 
 heard, mixed with the groans, was that of 
 the knotted rope upon the uncovered
 
 86 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 flesh. But perhaps this mysterious man 
 was a monk of the order of Fiageilants : 
 still, his cry for mercy to an offended God 
 seemed to proclaim him suffering under 
 the stings of conscience. Yet, if so, could 
 his countenance ever look so placid as it 
 had done the preceding evening ? No, it 
 was impossible. " But how weak it is in 
 me to wear aw^iy the hours in these idle 
 conjectures ! " Then, laying his head once 
 more on his pillow, in a short time he fell 
 into slumber, deep, quiet, and refreshing. 
 The morning sun, darting its beams 
 through his window, first awakened him 
 as he thought, and awakened him time 
 enough to hear some one leaving his 
 apartment. 
 
 " Who is there ?'' cried TyrconneL 
 ** I came to bring your honour's 
 clothes," replied a voice which he thought 
 was not unknown to him. ** The family 
 is ready for breakfast, if you are."
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 87 
 
 "Ready for breakfast?" cried Tyrcon- 
 nel: but the man was gone ; and on look- 
 ing at his watch he was surprised to find 
 that it was near ten o'clock. He made, 
 therefore, a hasty toilet, even though he 
 expected to meet " the family y' one of 
 whom was no doubt the singer herself ; 
 but he had no reason to be displeased 
 with his appearance. Rest had restored 
 the wonted bloom to his cheek, and his 
 hair, which parted on his forehead, had 
 recovered its waving beauty. Tyrconnel, 
 except when obliged to appear at court, 
 and in the circles of the metropolis, 
 claimed the privilege of a young and hand- 
 some man of quality to dress as he liked ; 
 and consequently never wore but on such 
 occasions that encumbering wig which 
 replaced the simple and picturesque style 
 of wearing the hair adopted in the days of 
 the first Charles, and which a traveller on 
 horseback in the Isle of Wight would
 
 88 LOVfi, MYSTERY, 
 
 Lave found a very troublesome appen- 
 dage. 
 
 When his host met him on the stairs, 
 on his way (as he assured him) to call him 
 to breakfast, his manner was so kind that it 
 entirely removed Tyrconnel's embarrass- 
 ment, and he was able to shake off every . 
 unpleasant impression and recollection. 
 
 ^' I must now introduce you to the 
 ladies of my family," cried he, as he opened 
 the door of the apartment in which they 
 had supped the preceding evening. 
 
 " Ladies ! " thought Tyrconnel : " I re- 
 collect to have heard a low and faltering 
 female voice singing with the others ; but 
 I had forgotten it again, and only remem- 
 bered one;"^ and Tyrconnel was now in 
 the presence of her, to whom that one 
 voice belonged. 
 
 She was standing by the side of a couch 
 on which reclined a female in a morning 
 habit, whose pale cheek assumed a faint
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 89 
 
 flush as if of pleasure on his entrance, 
 while her dim eye lighted up with the 
 brightness of former days. 
 
 " This, Mr. Tyrconnel," said his host, 
 ** is my sister Madeleine." He started at 
 the name^ while Madeleine extending her 
 hand bade him welcome to their retreat. 
 
 ^' Oh, all is now explained to me," 
 exclaimed Tyrconnel, ** in one moment. 
 I now know that I am so happy as to 
 behold the visiters of my sister Lady 
 Barbara." 
 
 '* Your sister ! " said Madeleine. 
 
 " Yes, she is now my younger bro- 
 ther's wife ; and you, sir, are no doubt 
 Mr. Dupont, and this young lady is 
 Mademoiselle Rosalie." As he spoke, a 
 deep involuntary blush overspread his 
 cheek ; for he not only remembered Lady 
 Barbara's prophecy, but he knew not 
 what to call the fair creature before him. 
 Rosalie alone seemed too familiar j the
 
 90 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 Lady Rosalie would have implied suspi- 
 cion of their being persons of rank in 
 disguise ; and yet Mademoiselle, the ap- 
 pellation of a French girl, though the only 
 one he could usfe, seemed the one least 
 befitting her appearance, as she reseni- 
 bledmore a statue which had been changed 
 by some modern Pygmalion into a woman, 
 but retained all the stillness and all the 
 coldness of its original material. For 
 scarcely could that beautiful head be said 
 to move in return to Tyrconnel's bow, 
 and certainly that faultless lip did not 
 vouchsafe a smile of welcome. 
 
 Whence did this insensibility pro- 
 ceed .^ Was it from bashfulness .^ In that 
 case it might wear off, at least Tyrconnel 
 hoped it would ; and in the mean time he 
 turned to meet the kinder glance of the 
 faded but still beautiful Madeleine. Her 
 dress was of black silk, her veil black 
 idso, and parted on her fair forehead was
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 91 
 
 the dark hair which Lady Barbara had 
 described to him, while the marked eye- 
 brow and the long eye-lashes formed the 
 strongest possible contrast to the trans- 
 parent skin of the cheek beneath them. 
 
 That clear pale cheek told a tale of ap- 
 proaching dissolution, and the rapid heav- 
 ing of the dress which was folded over 
 her bosom declared that her fluttering 
 heart had nearly beaten its last. 
 
 Tyrconnel, when he approached her, 
 meant to speak of Lady Barbara, and of 
 her enforced visit to the castle of Del- 
 mayne : but bis power of utterance failed 
 him ; for he felt that he beheld a being on 
 the brink of the grave, one too whom he 
 had learnt to consider with mysterious in- 
 terest, and spite of himself his counte- 
 nance betrayed what was passing in his 
 mind. 
 
 Madeleine, raising her expressive eyes.
 
 92 LOVE, MYSTERT, 
 
 answered to his look, while Dupont stood 
 with folded arms beside them. 
 
 " Yes, you see before you a poor dying 
 creature ; but one whose heart, while there 
 is yet a spark of life left it, will glow with 
 gratitude to your warm-hearted and lovely 
 sister ; and you are welcome hither for 
 her dear sake.'* 
 
 ** Welcome indeed," cried Dupont in a 
 hoarse tone of voice. 
 
 Rosalie at this moment changed her 
 posture, and seemed about to speak ; but 
 though her lip moved she said nothing ; 
 and Tyrconnel, who was now earnestly 
 gazing on her, felt himself mortified and 
 disappointed. 
 
 A new recollection now suddenly came 
 over Tyrconnel, and he ventured to say, 
 " Where is Donald ? for I suspect he it 
 was who last night obtained me so cour- 
 teous a reception,"
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 93 
 
 ^* True," said Dupont gravely ; '' but 
 Donald dares not appear before you, till 
 I have assured you that in leaving Lord 
 Delmayne's family he believed himself 
 to be fulfilling a superior duty, and I am 
 of his opinion." 
 
 ^* I am satisfied,'* replied Tyrconnel, 
 " and I heartily wish to see him ; for he 
 was always a favourite of mine, and poor 
 Barbara wept for his desertion." 
 
 '^ You may come in^ Donald," said 
 Rosalie, with a smile which almost made 
 the youthful traveller start with pleasure ; 
 and Donald entered the room 'vith a smile 
 on his face, but a tear in his eye, for he 
 was sincerely attached to the family of 
 Delmayne. He hoped the Lady Barbara 
 was well and her bonny laird. 
 
 Tyrconnel said she v/as well, and the 
 happy mother of t\*'o children the image 
 of herself. 
 
 '* Aye, indeed !" replied Donald ; then
 
 94 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 they must be bonny bairns ; for my lady 
 hei'sel is a bonny lassy, and I should 
 like to see her blue e'en again." 
 
 " And Lady Barbara is now a wife and 
 a mother ! " said Madeleine. " Sweet girl! 
 may she be happy in every relation of life ! 
 And she has married the man of her 
 heart too — for I soon discovered that she 
 was in love with Aubrey Tyrconnel, and 
 that he loved her." 
 
 " Pray, is your brother like you ?'^ 
 asked Rosalie with some eagerness. 
 
 ^' Very like." 
 
 *' Oh!" was the answer of Rosalie — 
 and Tyrconnel wished he could be sure 
 what that ** Oh !" meant, and whether it 
 was complimentary or otherwise ; but 
 perhaps it meant nothing. 
 
 It was mid-day before the breakfast 
 was over, for Tyrco^mel purposely pro- 
 longed the meal, because he knew that he 
 must offer to go away at its conclusion,
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 95 
 
 as he had no excuse for staying ; and at 
 last he reluctantly desired to have his 
 horse saddled. 
 
 ^' Surely you are not going to leave us ?'' 
 exclaimed the poor invalid. 
 
 ** You cannot be so unkind," said Du- 
 pont, laying his hand on his arm, while 
 Rosalie looked up and looked down again 
 and began to tear a piece of paper which 
 she held in her hand. 
 
 " If you wish me to stay," said Tyr- 
 connel. 
 
 " If^is'h you to stay!" echoed Dupont. 
 " Oh! indeed I do, and so I am sure does 
 Madeleine." 
 
 " Yes, Tyrconnel : and if neither pa- 
 rent, nor friend, nor mistress, is counting 
 the moments of your absence, you will 
 oblige a poor dying woman by giving her 
 a few hours of your company. I would 
 have said days, if we had any thing to
 
 96 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 offer, capable of repaying you for the sa- 
 crifice." 
 
 " It would be no sacrifice," replied 
 Tyrconnel, affectionately grasping her 
 moist yet burning hand. " Command 
 me as you please ; my parents are pre- 
 pared for my spending at least a month 
 in the island ; my friends do not want 
 me, and I have no mistress : believe me, 
 I came hither with a heart as free as 
 air." 
 
 " And you will stay with us a day or 
 two at least .^" said Dupont, eagerly. 
 
 *' Yes, days^ if you desire it. After 
 which I shall probably directly return to 
 my father's residence near Portsmouth, 
 where I expect Barbara and the rest of 
 my family." 
 
 *' Will Lady Barbara be so near us ?" 
 
 " Yes." A look of great meaning 
 passed between Dupont and Madeleine.
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 9/ 
 
 ^* Have your brother and Lady Barbara 
 a house of their own?" was Dupont's 
 next question. 
 
 " They have ; they live in London, as 
 Aubrey is studying the law." 
 
 " It was a benevolent and merciful 
 Providence that sent you hither;" and Du- 
 pont, as he said this, grasped Tyrcon- 
 nel's hand, and quitted the room. 
 
 Rosalie, who had listened to this cgnver- 
 sation with her usual statue-like stillness, 
 now raised her eyes to Tyrconnel's with 
 a look of evident pleasure : but they were 
 instantly withdrawn again ; and blushing 
 at her own boldness, with a sort of bound- 
 ing step she followed Dupont. 
 
 Madeleine now beckoning Tyrconnel to 
 sit down beside her, assured him, that by 
 promising to stay a few days with them 
 he had made her last moments compara- 
 tively happy." 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 ** Your last moments, dear lady ! Do 
 not say so. Surely you do not expect 
 that I should witness your — '' 
 
 ** I will fill up the sentence 1 do 
 
 wish you to be here when I breathe my 
 last; that time is nearer than those 
 beloved beings suppose; and for both 
 their sakes, I am desirous that a man of 
 feeling and honour like yourself should 
 be present to sooth and assist one whose 
 agonies, I know, will be great indeed. 
 Rosalie too ^But my brother will him- 
 self tell you the service which we mean to 
 request of you." 
 
 ^* If it be in my power to serve you, or 
 any one belonging to you, command me; 
 but do not talk of dying." 
 
 " It is a prospect too pleasant for me 
 not to indulge in the anticipation of it* 
 If you knew," said she, " what an hour of 
 comfort that of death will be to a long-
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 99 
 
 suffering heart like mine, you would be 
 pleased to hear me talk of it as near." 
 
 " The interest and the mystery con- 
 nected with these strangers, increase in ex- 
 act proportion," thought Tyrconnel: "but 
 I expect this day will end the latter. Yet, 
 if it does not, there is a something of 
 dignity, nay, even of sacredness about 
 them, which forbids the indulgence of 
 idle curiosity." 
 
 At this moment, Dupont came in to 
 invite Tyrconnel to take a walk with 
 him. 
 
 " Donald tells me," said he, " that 
 you draw from nature, and I can show 
 you some very fine views. Rosalie also 
 has a taste for drawing, and perhaps you 
 will to-mon'ow have the kindness to give 
 her a lesson ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; but why not to-day ?'' 
 
 ** Because to-day I wish to have some 
 serious conversation with you." 
 f2
 
 100 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 And Tyrconnel, on hearing such a rea- 
 son given for the delay, was no longer 
 averse to it. 
 
 Rosalie now returned with a book in her 
 hand ; and Madeleine telling Dupont that 
 Rosalie was going to read her to sleep, he 
 begged Tyrconnel to follow ; and they 
 quitted the apartment together. 
 
 As they began their ramble, Tyrconnel 
 found that when he fancied he had at- 
 tained the top of the mountain, he had 
 only reached a terrace halfway up its un- 
 even side, on which the house stood. 
 
 The mansion itself seemed originally, 
 from its castellated towers and its still re- 
 maining foss6, now nearly overgrown with 
 grass and weeds, to have deserved the ap- 
 pellation of a castle ; but one wing only 
 had survived the ravages of time, and was 
 now converted into a comfortable habita- 
 tion. 
 
 After they had proceeded a little way in
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 10 t 
 
 silence, Dupont turning to bis compa- 
 nion, and laying his hand on his shoulder, 
 exclaimed, " Look round, young man, 
 and see that not a trace remains of the 
 winter's storm of yesterday, except what 
 ^eems to add new beauty to the scene: — 
 the storm of the passions alone, that 
 storm, far more terrible in its course 
 than the whirlwind of winter, leaves 
 traces behind it of its awful visitation, al- 
 though the visitation be past ; fearjul 
 and indelible traces, which no earthly 
 power can hope to remove. T}TConnel, 
 I have urged your stay, though at 
 the certain risk of wounding the feel- 
 ings of your susceptible heart. But 
 you have, I trust, a long life of happiness 
 before you, and can afford to let the af- 
 flicted draw upon you for a few agitated 
 moments. Besides, before we part for 
 ever, (and we shall so part, I trust, at no 
 very distant day,) you shall hear a story
 
 102 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 which may serve as a salutary warning to 
 yourself, and to your children after you." 
 
 <« Why not tell it now^ sir ?" eagerly 
 asked Tvrconnel. 
 
 ** Now ! Impossible ! A vow of the most 
 solemn nature has sealed my lips ; and it 
 is only when I am beyond all question 
 on my death-bed, that this warning tale 
 can be revealed." 
 
 " Your death-bed, sir ! " 
 
 " Yes ; and I am happy to assure you, 
 that I have within me the seeds of a mor- 
 tal malady, and that when she goes / 
 shall not long survive her." 
 
 Here he seemed for some minutes la- 
 bouring with strong emotion. 
 
 " Let me now," he rejoined, *' describe 
 to you our route after we quitted the castle 
 of Delmayne. We left the North road as 
 soon as we could, and stopped for sleep 
 and refreshment as little as possible till 
 we reached Southampton.
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 103 
 
 " As it had occurred to Donald, that the 
 Isle of Wight was a most desirable resi- 
 dence for those who wished for retire- 
 ment, and for a mild and genial air, and 
 as he was well known there, his mother 
 being a native of Newport, he knew he 
 should have no difficulty in gaining leave 
 from the Governor for us to reside on the 
 Island. 
 
 *'From Southampton we sailed hither, 
 nor was it long before one of our rambles 
 led us to this deserted building. On in- 
 quiry, we learnt that it belonged to a no- 
 bleman who had quitted his country on 
 the murder of his king; and who chose 
 to remain abroad. At a very low rent we 
 were at last allowed to take possession : 
 the result of our labours you have seen ; 
 and I have derived much comfort from 
 my share of the occupation. Already, you 
 see, the myrtle flourishes around us ; and 
 I trust that when the stone closes over
 
 104 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 Madeleine and myself, this abode, which 
 sheltered the sorrowful, may one day be 
 the dwelling of the cheerful and the 
 happy," 
 
 " But, sir," said Tyrconnel, " if you 
 and your sister realize these sad forebod- 
 ings, s-urely, surely. Mademoiselle Rosalie 
 will not remain here alone ? " 
 
 " I trust not^' replied Dupont, turning 
 with a brightening glance towards Tyr- 
 connel, ** and this is the subject on which 
 1 am longing to speak to you. When 
 Madeleine and I are no more, Rosalie, 
 dear friendless girl, will have no protector 
 but her God!" 
 
 *' Say not so," cried Tyrconnel, grasp- 
 ing his arm ; "she shallh'dNe.^. protector. 
 I have a brother and Vi father,''' 
 
 " Can you promise for them that they 
 will befriend the poor orphan, and secure 
 for her a safe and honourable home ?" 
 
 " For ■ my brother, I am sure I can
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 105 
 
 promise ; and remember, Aubrey's wife 
 was Barbara Delmayne." 
 
 " You have almost healed a broken 
 heart," murmured out Dupont. Then 
 raising his eyes and arms to Heaven, he 
 exclaimed, *' Thou hast done this ! I sea 
 the hand of mercy here ! Blessed be thy 
 name^ and now let me depart in peace J' 
 
 It was some minutes before Dupont 
 recovered from the devout abstraction 
 into which he had fallen, and Tyrconnel 
 was too much awed by his manner, to- 
 break the silence himself. At length,, 
 with a placid smile he said, 
 
 " How did this happen, Mr. Tyrconnel? 
 How was it that I came to the end I had 
 in view, before I had even begun my ap- 
 proach to it ? I meant gradually to un- 
 fold to you my wishes concerning Rosalie,, 
 and to solicit your intercession with Lady 
 Barbara: but somehow or other, we went, 
 a quicker way to v/ork, and my heart 15^. 
 f5
 
 106 LOVE, MYStERY, 
 
 lightened of such a load! Lady Barbara 
 will be delighted, I doubt not, to ratify 
 your promise ; for I never saw a face so 
 expressive of benevolence and sweetness 
 of temper as hers. When I came to Del- 
 inayne, I thought that the guardian an- 
 gel of poor Madeleine, in a shape most 
 dear to her, was made manifest to bus- 
 man eyes, and was watching beside her 
 pillow." 
 
 " What! my rosy^, bright-eyed sistef 
 taken for an angel, and that by such a 
 man as you sir ! O dear ! I never dare tell 
 her this ; for I am sure her little head 
 would be quite turned, and she would 
 prove a very woman to my brother." 
 
 ^' Perhaps, mine," said he, *' may be a 
 tete exaltee^ and at that moment my feel*- 
 ings were particularly susceptible. Ex- 
 pecting only to see my faded suffering 
 sister, I beheld the image of youthful 
 beauty hovering over her bed-side. A
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 107 
 
 "bright winter's sun shone through cur- 
 tains of a golden hue, and its beams dif- 
 fused an unearthly radiance round her, 
 while her blue eyes were uplifted with an 
 expression of the most benevolent pity, 
 Tyrconnel, she has been to me a 
 guardian angel ; for, whenever anxiety 
 concerning Rosalie has come across my 
 mind, I have pourtrayed that face upon 
 the gloom of night, and I have said to my- 
 self, 'Yes, to thee, sweet being, will I try 
 one day or other to consign my poor or- 
 phan ;' and then I used to invoke a bless- 
 ing on her, and fall into a quiet sleep." 
 
 " Pear sir," said the gratified Tyrcon- 
 nel, " I always loved Barbara dearly, but 
 now I shall love her twice as much as 
 ever." 
 
 *' Let me add," said Dupont, ** that 
 Rosalie will be richly independent in for- 
 tune, and will want nothing but pro- 
 tection. It is not improbable that, a few
 
 108 LOVE, MYSTERY , 
 
 years hence, she may wish to take the 
 veil ; but in my will I have positively for- 
 bidden her, on pain of forfeiting her for- 
 tune, ever to enter a convent till she has 
 mixedwith the world some years^ and given 
 herself a chance for being a happy wife, 
 " No sir, no," he added in a hurried man- 
 ner, "Rosalie, while a young woman, shall 
 not enter even the gates of a convent." 
 
 "I trust that she will never enter one 
 — such beauty as hers." 
 
 "Beauty! Aye, she is beautiful. But 
 had you seen Madeleine in her pride, oh ! 
 Mr. Tyrconnel, that was beauty indeed, 
 but now ! — *' 
 
 Here he rapidly paced the turf on 
 which they had been seated ; then return- 
 ing with a countenance still bearing the 
 marks of violent agitation, " We will 
 now," he said, cross the mountain, and 
 explore some of the scenes in the valley 
 beyond."
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 109 
 
 Tyrconnel consented ; and as his host 
 talked of Switzerland, of Italy, of paint- 
 ing, and of music, the walk did not ap- 
 pear long to him : though he certainly 
 sometimes felt a strong desire to return 
 to Madeleine and to Rosalie. 
 
 When they were within a mile of the 
 house, Dupont observed that they should 
 scarcely get home by dinner time. 
 
 ** Indeed, sir," said Tyrconnel, *'I am 
 very sorry to hear it, as I wished to do 
 something to my dress." 
 
 ** What can you want to do to your 
 dress ? You will see no one you know 
 but Madeleine and Rosalie." 
 
 "jBw/ Madeleine and Rosalie!" thought 
 Tyrconnel, with a conscious smile and 
 an unconsious sigh. 
 
 " Quick ! quick ! there is no time to 
 be lost," cried Tyrconnel, as he led the 
 way to his room, followed by his servant, 
 who had now arrived with his portman-
 
 110 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 teau, and who was surprised to see how 
 difficult his young master was in the 
 choice of a dress ; but his surprise was at 
 an end when^ as they descended the stairs, 
 he saw Rosalie cross the halL Tyrconnel 
 now desired him to return to Ryde, and 
 Temain there till further orders. 
 
 Rosalie had no great variety of ward- 
 robe ; but she had folded her long hair 
 round her head, antl had fastened it on 
 the top with more care than usual, and 
 she had put on a gown of pink Lyons 
 silk which she had tried to shape after the 
 fashion of Lady Barbara's. This gala dress 
 was, however^ thrown away on Tyrconnel: 
 all he saw was, that her countenance was 
 more animated than before, and that 
 she was the most perfectly beautiful of 
 women. 
 
 They found Madeleine still lying on 
 the couch where they had left her ; but 
 her face wore a look of comfort added
 
 AKD SUPERSTITION. 1 1 I 
 
 to that of resignation, which Tyrconnel 
 had not before observed. 
 
 '' Surely," said Madeleine, *' I have 
 now a hope of seeing Lady Barbara once 
 more ? " 
 
 *' She will be only too happy to come/' 
 replied Tyrconnel ; " and with your leave 
 I will write to her directly, to tell her what 
 an unexpected though clouded pleasure 
 awaits her here : but then I fear she vAW 
 not let Aubrey rest till he sets off." 
 
 '' We must run the risk of that," re- 
 plied Madeleine faintly, and wiping the 
 damps of weakness from her brow; ^'for^" 
 added she in a low voice to Tyrconnel, 
 *' my time on earth is growing very 
 short." 
 
 " Do not say so," cried he. 
 
 " Well, well, I will say so no more ;" 
 then elevating her voice to its usual tone, 
 she said, * Once an enthusiast, always an 
 enthusiast,' is a remark which I have
 
 1 1 2 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 heard, only that the objects of enthusiasm 
 change ; therefore, I expect to find Lady 
 Barbara as enthusiastic as when I saw her 
 atDelmayne, but perhaps for new objects." 
 
 " No, Barbara's heart is constant to 
 its first loves. Aubrey and Tasso are still 
 her two prime passions ; but she has, I 
 own, added to them two or three others." 
 
 " What are they ? " 
 
 ** Two lovely children, working chairs 
 in tent-stitch for her drawing-room, and 
 making up baby-linen. All these in their 
 turn are passionately pursued, and the 
 dear enthusiast is alternately laughed at, 
 praised, pitied, scolded, and fondled by 
 us all ; but loved also, loved to the great- 
 est degree." 
 
 *' Happy creature ! " cried Madeleine. 
 
 '* Happy indeed ! " cried Rosalie mourn- 
 fully. 
 
 ** Shall you not be delighted, Rosalie, 
 to see her again ?'' asked Dupont.
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 113 
 
 Rosalie, to Tyrconnel's great mortifi- 
 cation, remained silent. 
 
 "Rosalie, why do you not answer your 
 guardian.^" said Madeleine. 
 
 *' I hope to be glad,'* said Rosalie at 
 last with a faltering voice ; " but de- 
 lighted is so very strong an expression." 
 
 " But is it possible you do not love 
 Lady Barbara," said Dupont, " after the 
 kindness she showed your best friend V 
 
 ** My best friend, and you, sir, seem 
 to love Lady Barbara so much, that 
 though I believe I do love her, my love is 
 quite unnecessary." 
 
 Tyrconnel was hurt at this unamiable 
 speech, and it was evident that Rosalie 
 was jealous ; but his attention was drawn 
 from this disagreeable consciousness, by 
 his observing the look of extraordinary 
 meaning which passed between Dupont 
 and Madeleine. Dupont soon afterward 
 suddenly quitting the room — ■
 
 114 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 " Rosalie," said Madeleine in a voice 
 of emotion, " you have distressed your 
 guardian ; he hoped that you had kinder 
 feelings toward our young friend." 
 
 '' Mistake me not," replied Rosalie, 
 seizing her hand and kissing it, while she 
 strongly struggled to take it from her. 
 " I do love Lady Barbara ; but I should 
 love her better, if you and my guardian 
 did not seem to love her so much — seem, 
 indeed, to love her better than poor 
 Rosalie," 
 
 '' Oh, this cup is a bitter one," cried 
 Madeleine, raising one emaciated hand to 
 Heaven, while she suffered the other to 
 remain in that of Rosalie, 
 
 " Recollect, dear friend," she conti- 
 nued, '' that I have seen you both em- 
 brace Lady Barbara; but when, in all these 
 melancholy years, whe;i have you ever ca- 
 ressed or fondled poor Rosalie ? Till we 
 went to Delmayne, and till I saw how differ-
 
 AND SUPERSTITION, 115 
 
 ently you behaved to Lady Barbara, I did 
 not feel this coldness, but I have ever 
 since been so wretched at times! for I have 
 feared—" 
 
 *' What have you feared ?" 
 
 *' That there was something in my 
 manner or nature to excite aversion rather 
 than love ; and I have wished, often and 
 often I have wished — to die.''* 
 
 Here, she paused from excessive emo- 
 tion : but the pause was unheeded by the 
 unhappy being whom she addressed; for 
 Tyrconnel, on looking at Madeleine, saw 
 that she was lying insensible on the couch. 
 He was trying to afford his assistance 
 when Dupont entered the room ; but 
 without stirring from the spot where he 
 stood, he only desired Rosalie to lend 
 her aid. Tyrconnel could hardly help 
 .reproaching him with want of feeling ; 
 but he was disarmed by the excessive 
 misery which his appearance displayed,
 
 1 1 6 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 as his hands were closely squeezed 
 together as if from the agony of mental 
 struggle. At length he sprung forward, 
 exclaiming, ^* She is not dead ! are you 
 sure she is not dead ?" and then hasten- 
 ing to the window he threw it open to its 
 utmost extent. As the feeble invalid gra- 
 dually returned to life and consciousness, 
 joy seemed to agitateDupont not less than 
 grief had done. " Strange, inconsistent 
 being !" thought Tyrconnel, " to stand 
 aloof, and prove your fondness only by 
 your agony ! '* 
 
 " Poor Rosalie ! I can perfectly under- 
 stand and excuse all you have said ; for so, 
 I see, they have both acted towards you.'* 
 
 Madeleine now raised her head from 
 Tyrconnel's shoulder, and, opening her 
 eyes, beheld Dupont tenderly gazing on 
 her. Instantly she closed them again, 
 and her head fell back on the shoulder 
 not of Tyrconnel, but of Dupont, But
 
 AND SOPERSTinON. 117 
 
 there it was not suffered to remain : he 
 started away from the evidently unwel- 
 come burthen, and rushed out of the 
 apartment. 
 
 Madeleine sighed deeply, took he 
 crucifix from the fold of her robe, pressed 
 it with lifted eyes to her lips, then begged 
 T^TConnel to replace her on her couch, 
 desiring that Rhoda would watch beside 
 her, and that Rosalie should take a walk 
 with Tyrconnel. 
 
 *' But you do not send me from you in 
 anger, I hope ? " said Rosalie. 
 
 " hi anger ! No, dear girl," said Ma- 
 deleine; " but do leave me to Rhoda's 
 care. 
 
 ** Dear girl,^^ cried Rosalie, kneeling 
 beside the couch, and pressing a now pas- 
 sive hand to her quivering lips, " I go 
 now almost happy ! You never spoke to 
 me so affectionately before," 
 
 *' But how have I looked at you, Ro-
 
 118 LOVB, MYSTE41Y, 
 
 salie?" said Madeleine, with unwonted 
 energy ; '^ have my looks never loved 
 you, dear ungrateful girl ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes ; and I was almost con- 
 tented till We knew Lady Barbara. But 
 come, Mr, Tyrconnel, she waves me from 
 her ; and I will go, now I am sure she 
 loves me at least a little,^'' 
 
 *' A little r murmured Madeleine ; and 
 Rosalie, accepting Tyrconnel's arm, ac- 
 companied him to the terrace. 
 
 They walked some time in silence ; for 
 Tyrconnel's heart, like Rosalie's, was too 
 full to allow him to speak, after the agi- 
 tating scene which he had just witnessed. 
 But as soon as he could compose his 
 perturbed mind, he felt that it would 
 be only kind in him to try to convince the 
 distrustful heart of Rosalie, that however 
 Cold the manner of both her guardians 
 might be to her, she alone was the object 
 on whom their aifections rested. The
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 1 19 
 
 difficulty was how to begin the conversa- 
 tion, if Rosalie did not begin it herself. 
 
 It was not long, however, before Ro- 
 salie said, " I am afraid, Mr. Tyrconnel, 
 you think me very ungrateful for not lov- 
 ing Lady Barbara as much as my guar- 
 dians do ; but indeed — " 
 
 *' But, indeed," cried Tyrconnel, press- 
 ing as he spoke the arm that was linked 
 in his, *' sweet Rosalie, I cannot blame 
 you even when I think you unjust ; for I 
 am sure your guardians love you better 
 than any thing in the world." 
 
 " Do you think so ?" replied Rosalie, 
 looking up in his face and smiUng through 
 her tears. ''So poor Mary Anne thought, 
 who lived with us when I first remember 
 any thing : Mary Anne was such a com- 
 fort to me I and when she died, I thought 
 I should never have been happy again." 
 
 *' But did you loveMarianne better than 
 your guardians ?"
 
 120 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 " Oh, no ; but when they repulsed my 
 caresses, and seemed to look upon me 
 almost with horror, I used to fly to Ma- 
 rianne, who soothed me to sleep, and 
 then all was well again." 
 
 ** Happy Marianne!" said Tyrconnel, 
 tenderly. 
 
 " Happy ! She was not happy : she had 
 been crossed in love. Poor Marianne ! I 
 often wish that I could go and cry on her 
 grave as I used to do. But she lies buried 
 at Greenval ; and I fear all the flowers are 
 dead which I planted round her grave." 
 
 " If they are," said Tyrconnel, "I will 
 plant new ones when I go next to Del- 
 mayne, and I will give orders to have 
 them attended to." 
 
 " And mill you do this ?" cried Ro- 
 salie, clasping her hands together, and 
 her countenance glowing with pleasure. 
 ** Oh! Mr. Tyrconnel, how gfiod you 
 are ! They may talk of Lady Barbara \ but
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 121 
 
 indeed / think you the kindest person 
 that I ever saw, and I dare say you will 
 take care that the grave is weeded too." 
 
 ** I will weed it myself)'^ said Tyrcon- 
 nel, who would have promised any thing 
 at that moment. 
 
 " Will you .^ Oh, how I shall love you ! " 
 she was going to add, but a feeling of in- 
 nate delicacy restrained her, and she only 
 §aid ''likeyony 
 
 Tyrconnel saw this, and, with a feeling 
 of delicacy akin to her own, forbore to 
 notice it ; and though his looks were so 
 expressive as to make Rosalie cast down 
 her eyes in confusion, he only said, ** I' 
 thank you for your good opinion of me ;' 
 but then he repaid himself for his forbear- 
 ance, by imprinting an impassioned kiss 
 on the hand which he had taken. 
 
 '^But surely," he observed after a pause, 
 during which Rosalie had resumed her 
 statue-like appearance, " surely your 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 guardians never in reality seemed to feel 
 horror at your caresses ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! indeed they did ; and when 
 I asked them who I was, they only told 
 me I must remain contented with know- 
 ing that I had been under their joint care 
 from the time of my birth, and that while 
 I lived I should never want a friend. 
 Upon such occasions if I ventured to 
 throw my arms around their neck, press 
 their hands to my heart, and bless them 
 for their kindness to a poor orphan, they 
 invariably started from me with a sort of 
 aversion, told me such importunate ca- 
 resses were unbecoming, and dismissed 
 me. But when I found that they could 
 show their regard for another by caresses, 
 though I was to be kept at a distance, 
 I felt a sense of injury, and a feeling of re- 
 sentment, which made me resolve, in the 
 hall at Delmayne, to restrain every evi- 
 dence of those strong affections which in
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 123 
 
 me, and me alone, seemed not to be 
 valued, and to be colder and more unper- 
 turbed even than I bad lately been. Do 
 not think me vain," she added, blush- 
 ing as she spoke ; '* but as 1 cast my eyes 
 on a statue in the hall of the castle, I 
 fancied that I was like it in features, and 
 I resolved to be also like it in character 
 from that unhappy moment. * They shall 
 no longer be disgusted at my warmth of 
 expression,' said I to myself ; and I kept 
 my word, till at last I fancied that my 
 heart was as still as my face, and that I 
 had ceased to love any one. Tell me, Mr, 
 Tyrconnel, did I not freeze you when you 
 first saw me ?" 
 
 *^ Not absolutely, but I own that I 
 thought I never saw any thing alive so 
 like a statue." 
 
 Dupont now appeared in sight, and 
 they hastened to meet him. He looked 
 dejected, and Rosalie felt her heart re- 
 g2
 
 124 LOVE, MYSTERYj 
 
 proach her as the cause. Struggling 
 therefore with her tears, she begged his 
 forgiveness, and assured him that she 
 would never, if possible, occasion him un- 
 easiness again. 
 
 *' I forgive you/' replied Dupont so- 
 lemnly and mournfully, '* and I hope you 
 will keep your word ; for, believe me, some 
 time or other, if you do not, dear mis* 
 taken girl, you will bitterly repent it." 
 
 Rosalie, overcome by the epithet 
 " dear,^ would in the agitation of her 
 feelings have caught his hand ; but he 
 shook his head reprovingly, and waved 
 her from him. 
 
 " You see,'' said she in a low voice to 
 Tyrconnel. 
 
 " I seC) and I ivonder^' he replied, 
 looking at her with eyes that said, " / 
 could not act thus towards you." 
 
 Rosalie sighed, but probably more from 
 pleasure than pain, as she felt the kind-
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 125 
 
 ness of his glance; and the rest of their 
 walk passed in silence. 
 
 On returning to the house, they found 
 Father Prevost, who officiated as their 
 priest ; and as he told them it was time 
 to repair to the chapel, he, Donald and 
 Dupont bore the couch, with Madeleine 
 stretched upon it, to the chapel. When 
 there, Madeleine was laid upon her face 
 on the floor, and Tyrconnel involuntarily 
 started forward in order to place a pillow 
 under her bosom ; but Rosalie mournfully 
 assured him it was her custom so to lie, 
 and he reluctantly drew back, while Rosa- 
 lie seated herself at the organ. 
 
 The service now began, and Tyrcon- 
 nel's devotion was disturbed by the at- 
 tention which he could not help gH'ing to 
 that of Dupont and Madeleine. They 
 were both prostrate before the altar, and 
 the groans of agony seemed to mingle 
 with the breathings of adoration. But 
 he forgot even to attend to them when the
 
 126 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 exquisite voice of Rosalie joined in tlie 
 service. 
 
 The offices of devotion ended now only 
 too soon for Tyrconnel ; and as he led Ro- 
 salie back to the parlour, he felt that he 
 was indeed gone an age in love, and that 
 whether as a statue, or as an affectionate 
 accomplished woman, she was, and must 
 be, most fondly dear to every feeling of 
 his heart. 
 
 A letter from Lady Barbara was now 
 given to Tyrconnel, which his servant had 
 brought. 
 
 " Good news," cried he; "Barbara is 
 already at my father's, and may be here; 
 any day, tide serving, in a few hours." 
 
 ** The sooner the better," said Made- 
 leine. 
 
 A servant now came in to say that 
 Mr. Fenton, Madeleine's medical attend- 
 ant, was come, and she was left alone 
 with him. 
 
 Eagerly was his leaving her watched for
 
 AN'D SUPERSTITIQN. 12/ 
 
 by Dupont and Rosalie : but wbat he told 
 them was far from encouraging, for the 
 fainting fits of the poor invalid evidently 
 grew more frequent ; and that very after- 
 noon, ere they had left the dinner-table, 
 Dupont, laying his hand on Tyrconnel's, 
 exclaimed, "Look there, she faints!" 
 but never offered to go himself to her as- 
 sistance, though he rung for her servants. 
 
 ^^ How very strange!" again thought 
 Tyrconnel ; but he dared not inquire a 
 reason for conduct so unusual. 
 
 That evening a servant brought a 
 second letter from Lady Barbara in reply 
 to one written by her brother. 
 
 ** My dearest William, 
 
 ** Never was delight greater than 
 mine! And so you have found the my- 
 sterious strangers, and are actually living 
 with them ? and they wish to see me and 
 Aubrey ? and they cult me sweet and an-
 
 128 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 gelic ? (But you are only laughing at me, 
 I know.) Well, but, dear William, how 
 trying it is that we can't come directly, as 
 I wish, and you wish ! and the cause too 
 is so trying ! My sweet little Aubrey is 
 indisposed; but I hope he will be well 
 again in two or three days, and then we 
 will hasten over to you and your fascinat- 
 ing friends. But, alas ! you say that the 
 amiable Madeleine is very, very ill, and 
 I must come, she says, directly, if I wish 
 to see her alive. No, no ; she must not, 
 shall not, die. Rosalie and I will nurse 
 her into health. I can't bear to think 
 that I must lose her, when I have just 
 found her again. But I am called ; depend 
 on seeing us as soon as the child is well^ if 
 we sail at midnight. 
 
 " B. T." 
 " P. S. Ah, cunning William ! Not a 
 word of Rosalies looks ! it was very un- 
 kind in you not to tell me whether Ro-
 
 AND SUPERSTITIOK. 129 
 
 salie turns out tall or not ; and whether 
 she is a beauty still, and whether you are 
 in love with her or not ; but I shall come 
 and judge for myself, and find you out, 
 that's certain. I can tell you, your silence 
 looks very suspicious." 
 
 " Rosalie," said Dupont one morning, 
 as she entered the room, " it is my hope 
 that Tyrconnel and myself shall be able to 
 prevail on Mr. Aubrey and his lady to be- 
 come your guardians, and allow you to 
 live with them, when our beloved Made- 
 leine is taken from us." 
 
 *' And do you mean," exclaimed Ro- 
 salie, bursting into a passion of tears, *^ to 
 send me away from you ?'' 
 
 ** It will be so much for your good, 
 Rosalie, so much more cheerful for you to 
 go about with Lady Barbara, that I cer- 
 tainly do." 
 
 " And do you think that I will obey 
 you ? Do you think I know so little what 
 G 5
 
 130 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 gratitude is, that I will leave you to live 
 with strangers, and visit and amuse my- 
 self, while you are here in solitude and 
 sorrow ? No, never, never. How could 
 you be so cruel as to think of such a 
 thing?" 
 
 *' There, Mr. Tyrconnel!" added the 
 sobbing girl. " There now, tell me after, 
 this, if you dare, that my guardian loves, 
 me!" 
 
 "Do you doubt it, Rosalie.'^" cried 
 Dupont reproachfully. 
 
 *^ I shall, if you send me away from 
 you. But mark me, sir," she added, wip- 
 ing away her tears, and assuming all her 
 dignity and self-possession, though evi- 
 dently it was with great effort; "do 
 what you will, say what you will, I never 
 will forsake you, I do not say to you^, 
 that ' where ihou diest, I will die, and 
 there will I be buried ;* but I do say, that 
 evil be my portion, and my days feiv upon
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 131 
 
 earth, if aught but death part thee and 
 me!" 
 
 Here her firmness again forsaking her, 
 she hurried out of the room. 
 
 " Calm your disordered spirits, dear 
 girl," said Tyrconnel, who followed her : 
 '' your guardian declares he will not urge 
 you to live with Lady Barbara during his 
 Hfe." 
 
 " And I conclude that you think I am 
 right. Air. Tyrconnel.^" 
 
 *' To be sure I do ; you have spoken 
 and acted worthy of yourself." 
 
 " Oh ! how happy you make me ! Your 
 praise has raised me in my own opinion. 
 I sometimes flatter myself that you vAW 
 in time like me almost as well as Lady 
 Barbara." 
 
 " Almost as well l Believe me, I shall 
 in time love you i^ter than Lady Bar- 
 bara; b^plr thaiifS ever loved, or can 
 love, any cfther ^|5^Inan."
 
 132 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 " Better than Lady Barbara ! Oh ! that 
 is more than I asked for, or expected. I 
 am sure now I shall love Lady Barbara 
 dearly myself." 
 
 The breakfast meal passed in silence : 
 Kosalie was too happy to talk, for Made- 
 leine seemed better, and Dupont allowed 
 her to stay, and Tyrconnel had been so 
 kind ! But Tyrconnel was silent, because 
 he was perplexed. 
 
 After what he had said to her that 
 morning, he felt bound to disclose his 
 attachment to Dupont and Madeleine, 
 before he renewed the subject to Rosalie. 
 Soon after breakfast Dupont invited Tyr- 
 connel to walk. 
 
 Madeleine nowbeckoningRosalie to the 
 side of her couch, said, " Let me make you 
 amends, my dear girl, for the pain which 
 was in kindness inflicted on you to-day, 
 by assuring you that your determination 
 has been a comfort to my mind, and tha4:
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 133 
 
 I always disapproved of your guardian's 
 plan of sending you away, when I be- 
 lieve he will want your presence most. I 
 bless you, Rosalie, for what you have 
 done, and I doubt not but your feeling 
 and recollections will reward you when 
 two broken and contrite hearts are quiet 
 in the grave." 
 
 Rosalie, gratified yet affected by this 
 address, would have thrown herself on the 
 neck of Madeleine, but she dai^ed not ; 
 and only murmuring out a blessing on 
 her, she hurried from the apartment. 
 
 When she had vented her full heart 
 in prayer, and regained her usual self- 
 possession, she hastened to join Dupont 
 and Tyrconnel on the terrace ; and as she 
 knew Tyrconnel was much interested in 
 the study of botany, she offered to con- 
 duct them where they would find a va- 
 riety of mosses and some curious lichens. 
 Tliey conseoted to follow her route, and
 
 134 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 set off with her to a romantic dell at no^ 
 great distance. As Madeleine felt her- 
 self unusually well that morning, and the 
 servants were particularly busy in pre- 
 paring for the reception of Lady Barbara, 
 she had forbidden any one to stay with 
 her, and had taken up a book, when a 
 sound reached her ear, which she knew 
 from experience to be oi alarming import. 
 
 Though our recluses during their six 
 years residence in the Castle had avoided 
 society, the indigent and the helpless 
 were well known v^ithin their gates ; and 
 when Madeleine could walk, her smile 
 of pious love and her words of holy peace 
 had often whispered hope to the wretched, 
 and led the trembling soul to reliance on 
 its God. 
 
 Amongst the superior class of poor in 
 the neighbourhood was a young woman 
 who had seen better days, and who had 
 found beauty a most pernicious gift,
 
 ANU SUPERSTITION. I'oO' 
 
 especially as to beauty she united exces- 
 sive ambition, an imperious spirit, and 
 ill-regulated feelings. What her con- 
 duct and fate had been, no one exactly 
 knew ; but one day after a long absence 
 she returned to her mother's cottage in 
 misery and madness. Whatever had been 
 her woes and her wrongs, (and in the 
 wildness of her ravings she talked most 
 touchingly of both,) they had left her just 
 reason enough to know that the humble 
 door which in the days of her pride she 
 had disdained, would open to receive her 
 in her state of degradation,^, and that the 
 mother whom she had neglected in her 
 hour of sunshine, would forgive and 
 shelter her in the night of her, despair. 
 She therefore wandered jas, far as Ports- 
 mouth, though alone, and unprotected,, 
 only by her evident insanity, from insult.. 
 She therefore reached the port in safety, 
 andembarked in the packet-boat to Cov/es,
 
 136 LOVE, MYSTERY^ 
 
 retaining on her person the few orna- 
 ments, the wreck of former splendom*, in 
 which the impulse of phrensy had led her 
 to deck herself. 
 
 On reaching the shore, she ran along 
 the road that led from Cowes to Newport 
 with a speed which nothing but phrensy 
 could have induced. When the poor 
 Anna saw the well-remembered field, and 
 beheld at a distance the chimney-top of 
 her mother's cottage, she stopped in 
 her wild career ; but it was only to tear 
 the garments from her person which the 
 thorns and briars as she passed had begun 
 to destroy ; while the glittering baubles 
 which had so lately fed her pride were 
 strewed upon the unthankful ground, 
 and shone there as uselessly bright as the 
 poor maniac's sparkhng eyes in the midst 
 of her phrensy. 
 
 In a few minutes the violence of the 
 paroxysm abated, but not its unconscious-
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 137 
 
 ness ; but by the mechanical power of 
 habit the steps of the maniac were di- 
 rected to the garden-gate which led to her 
 mother's door. That mother, whose 
 heart had been nearly broken by the neg- 
 lect of her child, had at that moment 
 forgotten all her sorrows in sleep, when 
 she was half awakened by a sound resem- 
 bling the voice to which she had so often 
 listened with pride and pleasure in happier 
 days, and which now she fancied her 
 dreams were recalling to her. The song 
 too w^as one which Anna used to warble, 
 little thinking, poor girl, that the fate 
 which it described would be her own, and 
 the stanza of it which she now sung wa^ 
 as follows : 
 
 O say, on a pillow of down can you rest, 
 While I on the earth or on straw must recline ? 
 
 Oh! say, can you wrap the warm fur o'er your 
 breastj 
 \\Tiefl bare to the winds and the tempest is mine }
 
 ]38 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 No pillow have I, even that you deny one : 
 No garment have I — nor a penny to buy one. 
 He hears not ! nor pities my frantic distress. 
 Yet sure he remembers mad wandering Bess. 
 
 As the tones came nearer, and were 
 more and more distinctly caught by the 
 still, half- slumbering parent, she fancied 
 that her child was dead, and that it was 
 her spirit whom she thus heard ; and for 
 a few moments the sorrows of her heart 
 w^ere soothed; for it was less bitter to 
 believe she was no more, than that she 
 was alive and undutiful; and she was 
 lifting up her heart in thankfulness to 
 her God, when the increased loudness 
 of the voice banished the lingering re- 
 mains of sleep, and a scream which vi- 
 brated to every pulse of her heart, con- 
 vinced her that the being whom she heard 
 was yet ahve, and was her long lost 
 daughter : she therefore sprung from the 
 bed, and beheld from her window the
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 130 
 
 wretched but still dear beitig beneath. 
 In another moment the door was un- 
 barred, and she clasped the now laughing 
 maniac to her heart. 
 
 *' O my child, my child ! " said she, 
 " welcome, welcome, though I see thee 
 thus." 
 
 To be brief: By the kindness of friends, 
 but chiefly by the bounty of Madeleine 
 and Dupont, Anna was sent to a place of 
 confinement, and recovered her senses 
 completely for a time, though it wasvvith 
 difficulty her mother had been prevailed 
 upon to part with her, and she returned 
 home apparently quite cured. But she was 
 subject to relapses, which the fond but weak 
 parent concealed as long as she could; lest 
 she should be sent fmm her again ; though 
 sometimes she was very mischievous in 
 her paroxysms, and had once endangered 
 the life of a young v/oman who had, as 
 she fancied, stolen her lover from he:'.
 
 140 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 It was a curious fact, that while she was 
 well she never sung ; but as soon as her 
 phrensy was returning she used to resume 
 her singing ; and the sound of her voice, 
 which could be heard at a great distance, 
 was the signal for those who feared her to 
 get out of her way. 
 
 This was the sound which now burst 
 on the ear of Madeleine, and, rapidly 
 drawing nigh, struck terror to her heart ; 
 and she feared for Rosalie, whose life the 
 maniac had once threatened as her sup- 
 posed rival, till recollecting that she was 
 well guarded, she began to fear for her^ 
 self, and tried to pull the string of the 
 bell which was usually within her reach : 
 but this day it had been forgotten, and 
 Madeleine found that she had no means 
 of making herself heard by the servants, 
 except by an exertion of voice to which 
 she was wholly unequal. At this mo- 
 ment of alarming conviction she heard a
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 141 
 
 noise behind her, and she beheld the un- 
 happy maniac, who, probably knowing 
 that she might be refused admittance at 
 the front door, had climbed over a hedgp 
 behind the house, and at this moment 
 stood at the window. She then threw 
 open the casement, and in another mo- 
 ment was in the room, and at the couch 
 of the trembling invalid. 
 
 " Tell me," she cried with great fierce- 
 ness of manner, "where Rosalie is." 
 
 " She is gone out," replied Madeleine 
 gently. 
 
 " Is she gone to him P" 
 
 *' She is with her guardian, and a 
 friend of his." 
 
 " O yes ! that friend is I know who— 
 but I shall find them. See," said she, 
 " how beautiful I am ! I have dressed my 
 hair like hers, to be like her :" and Ma- 
 deleine saw the poor thing had fastened
 
 142 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 her long hair round her head with skewers, 
 to look like Rosalie's. This method in her 
 madness, which proved how full her brain 
 was of the subject of Rosalie, overcame 
 her so much, that she fell back on her 
 couch, catching hold of the maniac at 
 the same time, and exerting her small 
 remaining strength to draw her down be- 
 side her. 
 
 -** What do you mean by holding me 
 down ?'' screamed out Anna in an angry 
 voice, and lifting up her arm as if to 
 strike her, while her eyes glared with ter- 
 rible expression. 
 
 Madeleine let go her hold, and her hand 
 fell nerveless beside her; for she thought 
 her last hour was come, and oh ! how un- 
 like that last hour, which she had loved 
 to anticipate ! But who can calculate on 
 the caprice of phrensy ? Madeleine's eyes 
 were closed, to shut out the terrible object
 
 AND 6UPERSTITI0X. 143 
 
 before ber ; but she soon found that her 
 life was in no danger, for in soft and 
 mournful accents she heard her say, 
 
 " She is dead ! quite dead ! cold and 
 pale ! and she was very kind and good. 
 There, there, I owe her much." She then 
 laid Madeleine's limbs straight upon the 
 couch, wrapt her cloak tight round them, 
 pulled her black veil over her face, knelt 
 beside her, and chaunted over her a 
 kind of hymn for the dead, ending it 
 with these four lines. But it was all 
 sung in a voice so subdued, that it frus- 
 trated poor Madeleine's hope the servants 
 would overhear her^ and come into the 
 room : 
 
 He gave me gems, and he gave me gold., 
 
 And proud was I to wear them ; 
 But the love he gave, Oh ! it soon grew cold., 
 
 And then I could not bear them. 
 
 She was soon^ however, freed from her 
 alarming guest ; for after she had finished
 
 144 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 lier song she rose up, miirmured out 
 " God rest her soul h" and made her exit 
 the same way she came. 
 
 Not long after her departure Made- 
 leine beheld Rosalie alone, pursuing with 
 rapid step the same way that the maniac 
 had taken; and she recollected with 
 terror that she had seen something like 
 a knife glitter in Anna's girdle. In an 
 instant, present weakness, impending 
 death, all was forgotten ; and borrow- 
 ing strength from despair, she sprung 
 from her couch, and, rushing to the 
 hall door, flew out of it toward the path 
 of danger, when she heard a scream 
 which seemed to her startled ears to re- 
 semble the voice of Rosalie. It was the 
 voice of Rosalie, who had left the gentle- 
 men behind her in order to gather for Tyr- 
 connel a plant which he had never seen ; 
 when just as she was stooping, she felt 
 herself seized by a powei'ful arm, and be-
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 145 
 
 held the fierce eye of the maniac glaring 
 upon her. 
 
 ** I have caught you," cried she in a 
 hoarse and hollow voice ; "and now for 
 vengeance ! but we will die together." 
 
 She then tried to drag Rosalie towards 
 a bush, under which she thought she saw 
 something glitter like a knife ; but Rosa- 
 lie resisted her so powerfully^ that she 
 could not effect her purpose. 
 
 ** Well then," said she, " we will roll 
 down this precipice." The former now 
 uttered those screams which were heard 
 by Madeleine, and which fortunately were 
 also heard by persons more able to assist 
 her ; for just as Rosalie's strength was 
 failing, Dupont seized the maniac by the 
 throat, and threw her from him with a vio- 
 lence which shook her to the earth, while 
 Rosalie nearly fainted on his bosom. 
 
 At this moment Tyrconnel, who had 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 been a considerable distance behinfd^ 
 came up just as tbe maniac, who had con- 
 cealed herselfj snatching up the hatchet 
 which she had hidden, stole unheeded 
 behind Dupont, and was about to intiict 
 probably a mortal blow on his uncovered 
 head ; when Tyrconnel turned round jiist 
 time enough to seize her uplifted arm, 
 and snatch the weapon from her hand. 
 The wretched woman, thus baffled again 
 in her murderous intentions, ran with 
 phrensied speed along the path to the 
 shore, where she was seized by some 
 sailors who were preparing their boat for 
 sea, and was soon afterward sent again 
 into confinement. 
 
 By this time the danger and the rescue 
 of Rosalie were known to the servants and 
 others whom her scream had summoned 
 to her aid, and who had passed Madeleine 
 on their way to the spot. But as soon as
 
 AND SUPERSTITION* 14/ 
 
 the danger was over, they remembered 
 where they had left the invaHd, and hast- 
 ened back to het assistance : and now, 
 with feelings of alarm not easy to be de- 
 scribed, Dupont and Tyrconnel beheld 
 Madeleine coming forward to meet them, 
 supported by Donald and Rhoda. 
 
 *'Is she saved ?" exclaimed Madeleine 
 wildly. 
 
 - She is." 
 
 '* Who saved her ?'* 
 
 •* I did," replied Dupont ; " and Tyr- 
 connel saved me." 
 
 Madeleine now looked at Tyrconnel 
 with such an expression of love and gra- 
 titude ! but seeing that Rosalie still seem- 
 ed insensible, she screamed out, " But 
 she is dead now V^ 
 
 She was instantly answered by Rosalie, 
 
 who threw herself into Madeleine's arins ; 
 
 but she had not power to hold her; and 
 
 after pressing her cold cheek to Rosalie's, 
 
 h2
 
 148 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 and calling her by every tender name her 
 native language couldfurnish, her strength 
 failed, and she fell back on her support- 
 ers, who bore her to the house. Rosalie, 
 bewildered though not insensible, would 
 have sunk on the ground again but for 
 the supporting arm of Tyrconnel. At 
 length she opened her eyes, and gazing 
 wildly round her exclaimed, " Surely, I 
 have been in a dream ! Methought I had 
 found a — a — and—" 
 
 " Rosalie," cried Dupont, " recollect 
 yourself: there is no one present but 
 your guardians and Tyrconnel." 
 
 Rosalie looked up earnestly in his face. 
 " Oh ! I feel very strangely," said she, 
 putting her hand to her head : " I fear 
 madness is catching, for I have fancied 
 strange things." 
 
 ** But you see and recognise us now, 
 dear girl ?" 
 " Oh, yes ! I do, I do," answered Rosalie,
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 149 
 
 bending her head submissively, and cross- 
 ing her hands devoutly on her bosom : 
 " Oh, yes ! I am convinced, entirely con- 
 vinced now, and my senses are quite 
 clear, quite." So saying, she rose with 
 the assistance of Tyrconnel^ and begged 
 him to lead her to the house. 
 
 '* Do you now, dearest Rosalie, doubt 
 the love of your guardians ? " said Tyr- 
 connel. 
 
 ** No, Mr. Tyrconnel," she replied : 
 ' they have too, too well convinced me 
 of it." 
 
 *' Oh ! do not fear that this exertion will 
 shorten the life of the invalid. It has 
 convinced me how strong she still is." 
 
 "Indeed!" replied Rosalie in a tone 
 of the deepest dejection ; and as soon 
 as she had seen Madeleine on her couch, 
 she retired to her chamber. But nothing 
 could prevail on Madeleine to follow her
 
 150 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 example ; she persisted in remaining 
 below stairs : she consented however to 
 allow the priest to read to her while she 
 tried to rest ; and as Dupont also retired 
 either to his chamber or the chapel, they 
 now separated, and Tyrconnel was left to 
 his own thoughts. But he was at present 
 no pleasing companion to himself,— for 
 in the lover he found that he could not 
 wholly forget the son ; and he knew that 
 his attachment would entirely blast all the 
 bright plans of his parents. Again, he 
 was not sure that Rosalie loved him ;■ 
 and when a doubt of her affection came 
 over his mind, he lost all consideration 
 cf the disappointment of Lord and Lady 
 Bellamore^ and was full of anxious reverie 
 concerning the probable event of his love. 
 He had just resolved to speak first to 
 Madeleine on the subject, when the priest 
 came to tell him that she wished to see 
 him. Tyrconnel found her alone; ant]
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 151 
 
 when be besought her to approve his 
 addressing Rosalie as a lover, that he 
 might be enabled to give her the best 
 of all protection, that of a husband, 
 
 " Joy does not kiU^ Tyrconnel," said 
 she in a voice almost extinct from emo- 
 tion, '* or I should expire this moment. 
 From tbe first hour I saw you, it was 
 the dearest wish of my heart to see 
 Rosalie your wife : but then I felt the 
 improbability that such an event could 
 take place ; for how could I ever suppose 
 that your noble parents would allow you 
 to marry an obscure though not portion- 
 less girl ; and over whose birth must 
 hang, for some time at least, an impene- 
 trable mysteiy V^ 
 
 *' But that m.ystery I am told will one 
 day or other be cleared up." 
 
 " But if not cleared up to the satis- 
 faction of your parents, then I shall with
 
 J 52 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 my dying breath declare against your 
 union with Rosalie." 
 
 " Yet, after all," cried Tyrconnel, rising 
 
 from his seat, " this is but idle talk, for 
 
 Rosalie herself may be averse to the 
 
 union." 
 
 . "Is Rosalie then ignorant of your love ? " 
 
 *' I have made no direct declaration, 
 and she does not seem to understand iu' 
 direct avowals." 
 
 At this moment they heard a carriage 
 driving up to the gate. 
 ' ** 'Tis she her ain sel," cried Donald, 
 hastily entering the room ; '* and she 
 nodded her head tul poor Donald. O 
 her twa bonny blue een ! there's na the 
 like o' them in the known world 1" 
 
 " What aie you talking of .^" cried 
 Tyrconnel: "whose eyes have turned your 
 head thus ?'' 
 
 " Whose but my ain young ladie's ? —
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 153 
 
 She's come ! ray lady ! the Lady Barbara, 
 and Maister Aubrey!" 
 
 " Come ! Then where are they ? AVho 
 has let them in ?" 
 
 " Oh ! gude faith, I forgot that ; the 
 sight of her made me daft, and I forgot 
 to open the gate." 
 
 But Tyrconnel got to the gate first, 
 and opened it to admit the welcome 
 visit-ers. 
 
 " Are we in time to see her alive ?" 
 asked Lady Barbara eagerly, as she sprung 
 into his arms. 
 
 " Oh yes ! but we have had a day of 
 terrible agitation." 
 
 "But shall I see her to-day .^ " said 
 Lady Barbara. 
 
 " I dare say you will ;" and Madeleine 
 desired to see them directly. 
 
 " I come, I come to nurse you, and 
 make you tuell^'' Lady Barbara would 
 have said ; but when she came near. 
 H 5
 
 154 LOV£, MYSTERY, 
 
 the poor sufferer,— when she felt herself 
 pressed to that quick-beating heart, her 
 tongue refused to utter such a word of 
 mockery, and she hid her tears on the 
 shoulder of Madeleine* 
 
 " What a pleasure it is to me to see 
 you again before I close my eyes on 
 earthly objects ! " said she, still gazing with 
 joyful animation on her young friend. 
 
 After a short interview, however, she 
 requested to be left alone, and the ex- 
 hausted sufferer fell into a calm and re- 
 freshing slumber. 
 
 But the sight of her had had a very 
 different effect on Lady Barbara ; for it 
 told her a tale of approaching death, and 
 she dreaded to behold the grief which she 
 could not alleviate. 
 
 " But where is my fancied rival ?'' said 
 Aubrey, to turn his wife's thoughts from 
 the painful sight which she had left. 
 
 " I dare say he is in the chapel."
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 155 
 
 Tyrconnel was right : on opening the 
 door of the chapel he found Dupont 
 prostrate on the steps of the altar, and he 
 did not venture to disturb him : but the 
 noise which the door made caused him to 
 turn round, and he beheld Tyrconnel first, 
 and then the head of Lady Barbara peep- 
 ing in. He knew her instantly ; but, in- 
 stead of hastening to meet her, he let fall 
 his mantle, which was before folded round 
 him, and stretched forth his arms to her, 
 in silence indeed, but with a countenance 
 radiant with pleasure and benignity. Lady 
 Barbara hastened to him as silent as him- 
 self, for emotion choked her utterance ; 
 and when he had embraced her, he lifted 
 up his arms as if in prayer for a few mo- 
 ments, while she involuntarily bent one 
 knee before him and crossed her hands 
 on her bosom. He then laid one of his 
 hands on her^head, while the other was 
 elevated ; and as he did. this, Tyrconnel
 
 156 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 and Aubrey both beheld him as Lady 
 Barbara and O'Carrol had done m the 
 castle-hall at Delmayne ; and they did 
 not wonder at the description which had 
 been given of his dignity of air and his 
 gracefulness of motion. 
 
 When his d(?vout abstraction was end- 
 ed, he courteously raised Lady Barbara 
 from her knees, and desired her to present 
 her husband to him. She did so ; and 
 as he grasped the hand of Aubrey he sur- 
 veyed his countenance with an inquiring 
 eye ; then observed to Tyrconnel, that 
 they were so truly brothers in appear- 
 ance, he doubted not but that they were 
 the same in mind and in tastes. 
 
 " But tell me, Mr. Tyrconnel^ where is 
 Rosalie?" 
 
 ' ' Aye, where is she ? I long to see her 1" 
 
 As they said this they were leaving the 
 chapel, and Lady Barbara found an op- 
 pGitunity of whispering to her husband^
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 157 
 
 ^* Tyrconnel may say and think as he 
 pleases, but I beheve our host is nothing 
 less than a cardinal !" 
 
 Rhoda, who had overheard her master's 
 question to Tyrconnel, now came forward 
 and told him Miss Rosalie was in bed. 
 
 "In bed!" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; she has been there ever 
 since she came in." 
 
 " Do, Rhoda, go into her room gently, 
 and, if she is awake, tell her who are 
 come : — the poor thing has undergone a 
 great deal to-day, and I only wonder we 
 are any of us at all recovered." 
 
 This led to a demand for an explana- 
 tion; and it was scarcely ended when 
 Rhoda came to say that her young lady 
 hoped Lady Barbara would take the trouble 
 to come to her bedside. 
 
 '' She must be ill, or I am sure she 
 would have risen to receive you," said 
 Dupont with a countenance from which
 
 158 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 every trace of recent pleasure was banish- 
 ed : and Lady Barbara followed Rhoda. 
 
 When she reached Rosalie's bedside, 
 she was shocked to see such marks of evi- 
 dent dejection in her countenance, and 
 every vestige of colour gone from her 
 cheek : nor was her distress lessened when 
 Rosalie, having murmured out ** Thank 
 God ! Oh ! I am so glad you are come ! " 
 threw herself on her neck and wept for 
 some minutes in silence. 
 
 It were tedious to relate the conversa- 
 tion that followed, which consisted chiefly 
 of inquiries concerning Rosalie's health 
 after the fright of the morning, and 
 mournful presages concerning the ap- 
 proaching fate of Madeleine. But when 
 Rosalie declared her aversion to rise and 
 join the party, as her spirits were too 
 much depressed to allow her to mix in 
 company, Lady Barbara began to fear 
 some painful secret lurked within her
 
 AKD SUPERSTITION. 159 
 
 heart, and could hardly be restrained by 
 politeness and decorum from expressing 
 her suspicions. 
 
 Rhoda now entered the room to tell 
 Rosalie that Madeleine sent her word, if 
 she was not well enough to come down 
 stairs, she would come to her ; for that 
 anxiety for her health would not allow 
 her to stay where she was. 
 
 " If that be the case, pray assure her 
 that I will dress and come down directly. 
 Do, dear Lady Barbara, go down while I 
 rise, and tell my guardians I am not really 
 ill." 
 
 " I can tell them that with a safe con- 
 science, believe me," replied Lady Bar- 
 bara, shaking her head ; ** at least, I am 
 sure your illness is not of the body." 
 And with a slow step, a very unusual 
 thing with her. Lady Barbara went down 
 the stairs. She found Tyrconnel waiting 
 at the foot of them.
 
 160 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 ** Tell me," said he eagerly, *' how is 
 Rosalie ? And how did she receive you ?" 
 
 *' With the greatest kindness and cor- 
 diality. — But she is ill ; — very.*' 
 
 " And not coming down stairs ?" 
 
 '' Yes ; she is dressing. But her ma- 
 lady is of the mind : such a face of de- 
 jection I never saw before in one so young. 
 O William ! if I could think you were 
 the cause of this !" 
 
 *' But you camiot think so ; for you 
 know me to be a man of honour." 
 
 '' But let a man be ever so much a man 
 of honour, a beautiful girl may fall in love 
 with him." 
 
 *' She may be likely to do so : but if 
 a man be really a man of honour, as soon 
 as he sees that his presence is dangerous, 
 he will fly the spot before it is too late. 
 No, no, my dear sister, if you are inclined 
 to pity, pity mel I see already that Aubrey 
 does, and has read my heart."
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. Iftl 
 
 " Is it indeed so ? Tlien poor Lord and 
 Lady Bellamore ! But perhaps Rosalie 
 does not, cannot return your love, and 
 that makes her unhappy ? Yet, dear mel 
 it would seem so unnatural for her not 
 to love you I" 
 
 " Butyoz/ did not love me, Barbara, — 
 you preferred Aubrey.'* 
 
 *' Aye, but remember, you did not love 
 me, and Aubrey did." 
 
 " True. But come, there is an hour 
 to dinner, and before you dress I wish to 
 show you and Aubrey some views." 
 
 Aubrey, who had been closeted with 
 Dupont, now joined them ; and the 
 brothers and sister had an undisturbed 
 conversation till they went to dress : but 
 it was of no satisfactory nature. 
 
 Aubrey and Lady Barbara were quite 
 willing to receive Rosalie as their ward 
 and companion ; but if she rejected the 
 addresses of Tvrconnel, or if she accepted
 
 162 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 them and was herself rejected by the 
 parents as the wife of their son, how could 
 Rosalie live where she and Tyrconnel were 
 exposed to meet daily ? And the way in 
 which Tyrconnel obviated this difficulty 
 gave great pain to his affectionate brother 
 and sister ; for, '* In that case," said Tyr- 
 connel, ^' I should go abroad, and never 
 return till Rosalie was married or in a 
 convent." 
 
 They were interrupted by the approach 
 of Rosalie herself, who told her fair guest 
 that it was near dinner-time, and she 
 came to offer to assist her at her toilet. 
 Tyrconnel now presented his brother to 
 Rosalie, who was himself struck with the 
 air of deep dejection which obscured the 
 most perfect face that he had ever seen. 
 But the form of Rosalie was not yet im» 
 paired by secret grief ; and as he surveyed 
 her tall majestic figure, and heard the 
 touching tones of her voice, he did not
 
 AND SUPERSTITION, 163 
 
 wonder that his brother's heart, all the ro- 
 mantic circumstances also of their meet- 
 ing considered, became the victim of her 
 charms. 
 
 As they walked towards the house, 
 Aubrey kindly told Rosalie, that he had 
 heard since he came of a most unexpect- 
 ed good fortune which was likely to befal 
 himself and Lady Barbara ; and on her 
 asking what it was, he said it was the 
 prospect of having her to reside with 
 them when she was deprived of her pre- 
 sent guardians, 
 
 " Unless," said Lady Barbara archly, 
 *' you are previously claimed by a better 
 guardian, an amiable husband." 
 
 " That I shall /^^^/'^r be," replied Rosalie^, 
 her face covered with the deepest blushes. 
 "No man, lam, sure will ever solicit my 
 hand in marriage ; and if he did, he would 
 sojicit in vain." 
 
 A silence^ ^ painful silence followed
 
 164 XOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 this unexpected and unwelcome speech, 
 which was soon broken however by Au- 
 brey, who casting a sidelong glance at his 
 brother, was terrified at his excessive pale- 
 ness, and exclaimed, 
 
 ^' My dear brother I Tyrconnel, you are 
 ill ! I am sure you are ill I" 
 
 " 111 ! " exclaimed Rosalie, turning pale 
 ■as death itself, while she seized TyrconneFs 
 arm, and looked anxiously in his face. 
 ; The husband and wife exchanged looks ; 
 and Tyrconnel, pressing her hand to his 
 lips, assured her he was well^ quite well 
 again. 
 
 " What does all this mean ?" whispered 
 Lady Barbara to Aubrey. 
 
 "Mean V replied he. *' Why,thatTyr- 
 connel has not offered as soon as he ought 
 to have done." 
 
 And Lady Barbara thought he might 
 be right. 
 
 *' I am afraid you will find me a very
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 165 
 
 awkward waiting-maid," said Rosalie to 
 Lady Barbara, while with trembhng fin- 
 gers she officiated at her toilet. 
 
 " I do indeed, my dear," replied she, 
 laughing; " for you were intended to have 
 women to wait on you, and never to wait 
 on any one. I have no doubt I shall see 
 you a lady of quality before I die, spite 
 of your recent declaration against mar- 
 riage. Believe me, your heart is more 
 tender than you fancy it." 
 
 " Lady Barbara," cried Rosalie, *' I told 
 you I should not marry; I did not say that 
 I could not loveT 
 
 ** What, my dear! would you love and 
 not marry.'' Lnpossible! As soon as / 
 was in love I wished to marry ^ and so will 
 you. 
 
 " Nay, Lady Barbara, think of the dif- 
 ference of our situations : you, highly 
 born, — ^you, blessed with noble parents, 
 the pride and ornament of an illustrious
 
 166 Love, mysteRv^, 
 
 housfe; and I, the poor, obscure, uriknown 
 Rosalie! No, believe me, if I loved to 
 distraction I would never be the wife of 
 ^ny man of family." 
 
 " Well, well, we shall see when the 
 time comes," replied Lady Barbara with 
 ail arch smile : and taking Rosalie's arm^ 
 they proceeded together into Mudeleine'f 
 apartment. 
 
 Rosalie, who had not seen her for some 
 hours, was sensible that an evident change 
 had taken place, and was not surprised to 
 hear that the dinner, at her desire, was to 
 be served in the front room. 
 
 ** Would you could have come yester^ 
 day !" said Dupont with more than usual 
 despondency of mannefi ** Yesterday we 
 were all more like ourselves ; our Rosalie 
 was cheerful yesterday,^* he added, dart- 
 ing a penetrating look at her, which evi- 
 dently distressed her ; and so general a 
 gloom seemed to pervad? the party, that
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 10/ 
 
 the summons to dinner was a relief to 
 them all. 
 
 But nothing could long entirely depress 
 the elastic spirits of Lady Barbara ; and 
 even Dupont and Rosalie were for a while 
 enlivened by her sallies ; the good priest 
 seemed quite captivated with her vivacity, 
 and Donald forgot he was waiting at table 
 while gazing on Lady Barbara's bonny 
 blue een . Her countenance however was 
 clouded when Mr. Fenton, who had visit- 
 ed the invalid while they were at dinner^ 
 called Dupont out of the room, and in- 
 formed him that he was convinced the 
 forebodings of his patient were just ; and 
 that though she might outlive the night, 
 she would never be able to come down 
 again. 
 
 This information so completely overset 
 the wretched man, that he was unable to 
 remain with the company, and the priest 
 felt it is duty to retire with him ; while
 
 168 LOVE, MYSTEHV, 
 
 Rosalie went to take her station by tlie 
 couch of the beloved sufferer till the bell 
 called them to vespers. When that sum- 
 mons came for the first time, Madeleine 
 owned herself unable to obey it^ but de- 
 clared her resolution not to be carried up 
 stairs till her usual hour ; adding, with a 
 melancholy smile, *' I have my reasons 
 for it ;" and Mr. Fenton promised to stay 
 with her till her friends returned. 
 
 Dupont and the priest were already 
 there when the guests and Ptosalie en- 
 tered the chapel : but words cannot paint 
 the agony of Dupont's countenance when 
 he learnt that Madeleine could not attend 
 the evening service : and when the priest 
 began, he threw himself on the very spot 
 where he had been accustomed to see her 
 throw herself, and there he lay enveloped 
 in his cloak, heaving such sighs as spoke 
 a spirit tried almost beyond its power. 
 Ill indeed could Rosalie exert her voice
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 16D 
 
 while witnessing the miseiy of one guar- 
 dian^ and anticipating the death of tlic 
 other. At length her devotional con- 
 quered her other feelings ; and, with the 
 exception of the broken-hearted Dupont, 
 the tones of her voice breathed peace OTer 
 the disturbed spirits of her hearers. 
 
 Mr. Fenton meanwhile took leave of 
 Madeleine, recommending her to be car- 
 ried to her own room without further 
 delay, as the night air was chilly, and she 
 had to cross the hail. 
 
 " I shall soon be more chilly than the 
 night air," said Madeleine ; " and a few 
 minutes more or less here can do me' no 
 harm. Rosalie, my love," cried she, while 
 the epithet, never heard but once before, 
 thrilled through the affectionate heart of 
 the dejected girl, " Rosalie, hold up the 
 candles, that I may gaze on every object 
 in this room, where I have known so 
 many dlfierent feelings, for the last time. 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 Now," said she, " seat yourself at your 
 harp, where I have been used to see you 
 sit, and sing me the evening hymn to the 
 Virgin." 
 
 She obeyed; and Madeleine joined in it 
 with a voice so sweet and tones and man- 
 ner so overpoweringly affecting, that Ro- 
 salie's voice failed her before she came to 
 the close, and Lady Barbara sobbed aloud. 
 
 *^ Enough," she cried: " now let me 
 be removed to my chamber. I have sung 
 my last hymn on earth ! " 
 
 That nighty though Madeleine was un- 
 conscious of it, Rosahe watched, wept, 
 and prayed by her bedside. That night, 
 too, the wakeful ear of Tyrconnel heard 
 those well-remembered groans from the 
 self-tormented penitent, and wondered 
 what new sin had called for such an ex- 
 piation. 
 
 At length the time of rising came, and 
 the matin bell summoned the family to
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 171 
 
 chapel. With what different looks did 
 those who composed the congregation 
 meet there ! Aubrey and his wife, though 
 their faces wore the expression of sym- 
 pathetic sorroWj were still radiant in their 
 complexions and features. But Dupont, 
 Rosalie, and Tyrconnel bore in their dim 
 eyes and pallid cheeks the traces of the 
 sleepless night of woe. 
 
 ** I once thought," said Lady Barbara 
 to Tyrconnel as they left the chapel, *^x)f 
 bringing my little girl with me; but I am 
 glad I did not, for I would not for the 
 world put her out of love with good and 
 pious persons ; and really the countenance 
 of poor Madeleine, Dupont, and Rosalie, 
 and even of you, William, would frighten 
 her into horrors ; and good and terrible 
 would ever after be associated in her 
 mind." 
 
 ^ Towards eveningMr . Fenton called again 
 
 and positively, at Madeleines earnest 
 
 i2
 
 172 LOVE, MYSl^RY, 
 
 command, assured her that life was ebbing 
 apace, 
 
 "Then I am actually on my death-bed> 
 and in my hour of death ? " she said, with a 
 countenance lighted up with joy. 
 
 ^' You are :" and her transparent hands 
 were silently lifted, as if in praise and bless- 
 ing. 
 
 ** Enough ! God bless you, sir ! You 
 may now leave me, and send Father Pre- 
 vost hither. I thank you cordially for all 
 your^^kindness." 
 
 The priest now came, in and admini- 
 stered extreme unction to the dying Ma- 
 deleine. The sacramental rite followed, 
 of which the brothers, Lady JBarbara, Ro- 
 sdie, and Dupont, at her earnest request, 
 were summoned to partake. 
 
 " And now, where is Rosalie V^ cried 
 Madeleine. "My beloved, where art thou .^ " 
 
 " Here," she replied, hastening to meet 
 the now offered embrace.
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 1/3 
 
 *' Leave US," said Madeleine : '*I would 
 be alone with Rosalie." 
 
 They had been together near an hour, 
 when Rosalie pale and agitated ran down 
 stairs and begged Tyrconnel to find Du- 
 pont, and send him to Madeleine, who 
 earnestly requested to see him. He did 
 so, and Rosalie returned to the chamber 
 of death. 
 
 T}Tconnel found him in his own apart- 
 ment, and was obliged to sapport him to 
 that of Madeleine, and even to her bed- 
 side. They found Rosalie lying beside 
 her, supporting the head of Madeleine on 
 her arm ; while the dying sufferer was 
 gazing on her with unutterable fond- 
 ness. 
 
 " Leave me now, dearest," said Made- 
 leine, pressing her lips to hers, and clasp- 
 ing her to her bosom. She then bade Tyr- 
 connel lead her to Lady Barbara; while, as 
 the weeping girl withdrew, she followed
 
 1/4 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 her with her eyes till the door closed and 
 she could see her no more. 
 
 " There ! " said Madeleine with a deep 
 sigh, ** that pleasure and that pang are 
 over, and now ! — ^" 
 
 It was not long before the anxious fears, 
 of Rosalie, who had herself been forbid- 
 den to come again till she was sent for, 
 led Tyrconnel, whose presence had not 
 been forbidden, and who had always been 
 desired by Madeleine to be with Dupont 
 at the moment of her death, to go to the 
 door of the room, and listen to what was 
 passing. 
 
 And he was very soon impelled to 
 enter the room, for he heard the increase 
 ing loudness of the expiring breath ; and 
 he heard Dupont exclaim in the bitter- 
 ness of his agony, Tyrconnel at thi& 
 moment stood at the feet of the bed. 
 
 " I am dying, beloved of my soul," 
 cried Madeleine, struggling as it were to
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. l/o 
 
 repel the quick approach of death, and 
 eager to indulge for one short moment 
 that faithful tenderness so long repressed 
 and subdued: as she said this, she stretch- 
 ed out her arms to the agitated Dupont, 
 who clasping her with phrensied agony to 
 his breast, wildly conjured her, as he kissed 
 her damp brow, to live a little longer, and 
 wait till his appointed hour was come. 
 
 ** It will not be," she faintly replied. 
 
 Then, while she gasped for utterance 
 the priest gave the cross into her closing 
 hand : she pressed it to her breast, fixed 
 her last, long, expiring glance on that be- 
 loved being who now tenderly supported 
 her ; and as he pressed his cold and tear- 
 ful cheek to hers, she smiled and expired. 
 
 For one moment all was still as was 
 the corpse before them ; for Dupont was 
 stunned by the blow, though it had been 
 so long expected, and he stood gazing on 
 his lost Madeleine as if he expected to
 
 176 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 see her move and hear her speak again ; 
 v/hiie reverence for such deep grief as his 
 forbade Tyrconnel and the priest to speak 
 or move. But at length the unhappy 
 man awoke to the full extent of his suf- 
 fering; and throwing himself beside thebo- 
 dy, he called her by every endearing name, 
 amongst which, however rapidly he spoke, 
 and in Italian too, Tyrconnel could 
 clearly distinguish the name of Angela, 
 amante, 7nia vita, and all the words that 
 denote the tenderest ties which bind the 
 heart of man. It seemed as if that im- 
 perious love, which had for years been con- 
 fined within oppressive bonds, and tyran- 
 nized over and trampled upon, now rioted 
 in its recovered liberty, and gave way to 
 that violence which might be fettered, 
 but could not be annihilated. 
 
 At last, when he had raved himself into 
 insensibility, Tyrconnel and the priest 
 removed him into his own room, and the
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 177 
 
 latter promised to summon him when- 
 ever he thought his presence would be of 
 service. He then proceeded to fulfil the 
 painful task of imparting to Rosahe the 
 death of Madeleine. 
 
 "Am I sent for?" said she eagerly: " I 
 saw you remove my guardian from the 
 room ; I thought the scene would be too 
 much for him. I shall go to her now." 
 
 " No, deai'est Rosalie, you must go 
 with my sister to your chamber," replied 
 Tyrconnei, the tears trickhng down his 
 manly cheek. 
 
 ** What do you mean ?'' cried Rosahe, 
 catching his arm; "shall I see her no 
 more? Is — is — " 
 
 " Yes — all is over, and we can now 
 only pray for her soul ! " 
 
 Lady Barbara did not leave the mourner 
 that night, but partook of her sleepless 
 bed and restless pillow. 
 
 Tyrconnel's night was a sleepless one; 
 1 5
 
 178 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 for Dupoiifs frantic grief, which was 
 often succeeded by quiet and cahn dejec- 
 tion, admitted of the soothings of friend- 
 ship, and caused him therefore to pass 
 most of the hours till day-break in the 
 mourners chamber. 
 
 With what new and mournful feelings 
 did the sleepers now hear the bell which 
 summoned them to matins ! with what 
 painful emotions did the mourners hear 
 that sound which, they at once remem- 
 bered, she whom they most loved could 
 hear no more ! and with what overpower- 
 ing wretchedness did they behold the 
 beams of that sun which diffused a gene- 
 ral cheerfulness upon the face of nature, 
 and called every thing around them into 
 new life, save her more dear than even life 
 itself ! O the painful contrast between 
 the still, cold, dark paleness of the dead, 
 and the warm, revivifying sun, and the 
 bright blue sky above them !
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 1/9 
 
 Lady Barbara and her husband arose 
 indeed to renewed gratitude alone to the 
 Giver of good; for they arose to a con- 
 sciousness of their own still unimpaired 
 enjoyments. But they could not forget 
 that mourning was in the house; and Lady 
 Barbara, bursting into tears, exclaimed, 
 when she heard the matin bell, " The 
 poor Madeleine hears it not ! " 
 
 " She hears better music, I trust, my 
 beloved," replied her husband. And Lady 
 Barbara said she wondered she could be 
 so foolish as to weep for her. 
 
 ^Vhen they entered the chapel, they 
 found Rosalie had taken her seat as usual 
 at the organ, and Dupont was stretched 
 along the self-same spot as the night be- 
 fore ; while Rosalie's voice only faltered 
 occasionally, as some recollection, proba- 
 bly, came over her mind and agitated her 
 feelings. 
 
 When the service was ended, Dupont
 
 180 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 moved not from his recumbent posture, 
 and took no notice of any one. But Ho* 
 ssalie accepted the offered arm of Tyrcon- 
 nel ; and with a pensive but placid coun- 
 tenance gave and received the usual 
 greetings, and accompanying her guests 
 to the house officiated at the breakfast 
 table ; but when the meal was over she 
 retired again. 
 
 *^ It is very certain," said Lady Bar- 
 bara the next day, " that Rosalie's counte- 
 nance is not so dejected, not so full of woe, 
 as itwas before this event happened." 
 
 ''Certainly not," rephed Aubrey: ** at 
 least, if it be, it is a dejection of a dif- 
 ferent nature. That seemed bitter hope- 
 less dejection ; but this has an air of 
 placid sweetness, that only belongs to the 
 occasion ; and Rosalie^ while sorrowing 
 for the poor Madeleine, cannot sorrow 
 like one without hope." 
 
 " True! " replied Tyrconnel, '* and I
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 181 
 
 myself have observed the change with 
 great pleasure; and I also know exactly 
 when the change took place. I ob- 
 served it after she came from her long 
 conference with the deceased, as soon 
 as ever she had recovered her first emo^ 
 tions, and was composed enough to con- 
 verse; and I suspect this change in 
 her was the result of that conversation. 
 \Vliat it was that so affected her the day 
 you came^ I cannot guess ; but that was 
 the first time I had ever observed it in 
 her. But I will go in search of her : I ex- 
 pect to find her in the chamber of death." 
 " Now Tyrconnel is gone we must 
 talk of our departure," said Lady Bar- 
 bara. " When can it with propriety take 
 place ? for remember, I have left my dear 
 children tv/o days ! " 
 
 ** But we cannot go before the fune- 
 ral, Barabara." 
 
 ** AVhat necessity can there be for our
 
 1S2 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 attendance ? Besides, I have no niourn- 
 ing; I can do no good here, and I am 
 wanted at home." 
 
 " Is it doing no good, to show respect 
 to that person when dead whom you 
 loved while Uving ? Is it doing no good, 
 to show countenance and kindness to a 
 poor orphan girl when she is in afflic- 
 tion, Barbara ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, it is : I own it, I own it. 
 Still, I think a superior duty is owing to 
 my own children." 
 
 " So I should think, if they were in 
 danger, or in distress; but as they are 
 well and happy, and under the best pos- 
 sible care, not even excepting your own, I 
 think your superior duty is to stay here." 
 
 ** And do you not think a mother's 
 duty paramount to all others, a wife's 
 excepted.'^" 
 
 *' Yes : but when a mother prefers go- 
 ing to her children to staying where she
 
 AND SLIPERSTITION. 183 
 
 is wanted, because it is far more delight- 
 ful to her to go than to stay, then I think 
 her maternal tenderness looks very like 
 selfishness disguised under the form of 
 maternal duty." 
 
 ** Well, Aubrey, well, rather than seem 
 selfish in your eyes, I am sure T\\ stay a 
 month if you wish." 
 
 "Nay, Barbara, that would be still more 
 selfish; for then you would really from 
 selfish motives sacrifice your children." 
 
 " I am incapable now-a-days of argu- 
 ing with you, Aubrey, since you became 
 a barrister ; therefore I shall only say, I 
 am your wife, and I feel it my duty to 
 obey your will." 
 
 "Is it not your pleasure too, Bar- 
 bara ? I have always flattered myself it 
 was — are you changed^ my love .^ " 
 
 *' I ! Oh no! but you are, or you would 
 not have thought me selfish."
 
 184 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 " I did not think so ; and I was sure 
 you only seemed so, because you had not 
 allowed yourself to consider the point in 
 question properly and on both sides. I 
 was always certain that, if you did so 
 consider it, you would give it up as 
 quietly and good-humonredly (with an 
 emphasis) as you have done now^ 
 
 Lady Barbara, as he said this, looked 
 at him with a suspicious and inquiring 
 glance. Then, shaking her head, and 
 holding up her hand at him in a threat- 
 ening manner, she exclaimed, *' Aubrey, 
 you are a sarcastic, hateful person !" and 
 went in search of Rosalie. 
 
 Lady Barbara found lyrconnel with 
 her standing by the dead body of her 
 whom they loved : but she hesitated to 
 enter the room ; for what is soothing to 
 strong feelings of affection is painful 
 where the affections are not deeply en-
 
 AND SUPERSTITION, 185 
 
 gaged. And Tyrconnel, observing her 
 reluctant step, whispered Rosalie, that 
 they had better go to her ; and they led 
 the agitated Lady Barbara to Rosalie's 
 apartment. 
 
 *' I am afraid," said she, wiping her 
 eyes, " you think me a great fool.'* 
 
 *' Oh, no! I can understand your feel- 
 
 mgs 
 
 •' It is more than I can ; for how 
 strange it is that / cannot bear to 
 look on that which you^ who loved 
 her so much more, can like to contem- 
 plate ! " 
 
 *' There are many v/ays of accounting 
 for that. In the first place, nothing can 
 increase the grief already at its height; 
 and it loves whatever suits and feeds it. 
 In the next place, it is sweet to me to 
 be with her as long as I can ; and next 
 to seeing her r.live, it is pleasing to me 
 to gaze on her when dead. I shall soon
 
 186 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 not see her at all, you know. But prsty 
 let us change the subject." 
 
 " Willingly; and I must venture to 
 observe the change in your countenance: 
 your expression is quite altered, not from 
 woe to joy, but from one sort of sorrow 
 to another." 
 
 " I can believe it; for so are my feel- 
 ings changed. The woe you mean was 
 a bitter, blighting distress ; but my last 
 conversation with the dear lost Made- 
 leine removed the cause of it ; and now 
 I only feel a tender softening kind of 
 melancholy occasioned by her loss." 
 
 " I do understand this distinction, 
 Rosalie. Your first woe was an acute 
 wearing pain like the tooth-ach. Your 
 present resembles a slight gentle head- 
 ach, and is by the by rather agreeable 
 than otherwise, when one may rest one's 
 head on the shoulder one loves." 
 
 ^' I should think, Lady Barbara, that
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 187 
 
 even sorroiu when soothed by those one 
 mo6t loves would be sweet also." 
 
 " Try the experiment. I dare say Tyr- 
 connel will be very glad to sooth your 
 sorrow." 
 
 " How can you joke, Lady Barbara, 
 and at such a time ? " 
 
 " Indeed, it was wrong, and I sincerely 
 beg your pardon. I am afraid I want to 
 meet with a severe affliction, to prevent 
 my growing hard-hearted; for a life of 
 continued blessings is a most fearful 
 state, and very bed for the soul, I believe ; 
 and I never lost any thing I loved, ex- 
 cept a very fine long-eared setter. There 
 are some losses which I cannot bear to 
 contemplate. I leave you to guess what I 
 mean — the very idea — " Here she paus- 
 ed, and wiped the tears from her April 
 face. 
 
 " Do you know," said she, *' that I 
 have often wondered at the fuss that i&
 
 188 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 made in a Greek play about a wife who 
 prevailed on the gods to let her die in- 
 stead of her husband? Alcesiis her name 
 w^as. But I never could see so much in 
 it. I am sure it appears to me a very easy 
 and natural thing. I had much rather 
 die for Aubrey, than endure the misery 
 of losing him. Do you not think you 
 should feel the same towards your hus- 
 band, if you loved him ? " 
 
 *' I would never," said Rosalie solemnly, 
 ** marry any man, for whom I should not 
 be willing to die." 
 
 So much for the enthusiasm of two- 
 and-twenty and nineteen. 
 
 When dinner was announced that day, 
 to their great surprise, Dupcnt himself 
 took his seat at table, and with a coun- 
 tenance which spoke forcibly of recent 
 sorrow, but of sorrow subdued into calm- 
 ness by the consolations of religion. As 
 Madeleine had not for many weeks par-
 
 AKD SUPERSTITION. 189 
 
 taken of that meal with him, he did not 
 miss her at it, and that added to his com- 
 posure. He ate Uttle himself, but was 
 attentive to his guests, particularly to 
 Lady Barbara, who had not at all lost 
 her power to charm his imagination, and 
 whom, to her confusion, he often gazed 
 upon till tears came in his eyes ; for he 
 recalled the first moment in ^^hich he 
 saw her, and when he was then fearing 
 an event might happen, which had since 
 taken place. 
 
 " How like Lady Barbara is," said Du- 
 pont starting from a reverie, " to one 
 of Guido's angels 1 " 
 
 '' She is a better thing to me, dear sir," 
 said Aubrey affectionately: " she is a real 
 angel, not a pictured one ; and she is 
 my own little wife : but I do wish you 
 may not turn her head with your flat- 
 tery : praise from most men to a sen- 
 sible woman is no better than a tempo-
 
 190 LOVE, MVSTERV, 
 
 raiy and trifling allowance, which is never 
 to be depended on ; but praise from you 
 is a large fortune at once, which may 
 make the person who receives it proud 
 and independent." 
 
 *^ And what are you yourself now do- 
 ing, Aubrey ? have not you praised me 
 enough to make me proud ? Indepen- 
 dent I never can be, never wish to be, of 
 you and your affection.'* 
 
 " Tyrconnel," said Dupont with great 
 feeling, ** if I live long enough to knoiv 
 that you and that dear girl will one day 
 be united, I shall almost think the mi- 
 series of my own existence repaid." 
 So saying he left the room. 
 " What does this mean ? " cried Lady 
 Barbara, turning to the blushing Ro- 
 salie : ** have you changed your opinion 
 since yesterday, and learnt to think that 
 marriage may as well attend on love; 
 ^d that love is a bad thing without it?"
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 191 
 
 " I never did think otherwise," replied 
 Rosalie : " I only said, that I might love, 
 though I could not marry." 
 
 " Could not marry ! that is to say, 
 *' will not marry : dearest Rosalie, 
 do not conjure up such a distracting 
 thought ! why will you give up all hope 
 thus?" 
 
 " I do not give up hope — I cannot 
 hear to give it up — I am not ashamed 
 to repeat to these kind friends what I 
 owned to my departed guardian, and to 
 my living one, — that I love you, Tyrcon- 
 nel ; and that 1 believe I can never love 
 any other man : but then I must also as- 
 sure you, and in their presence^ that with- 
 out the consent of your parents I never 
 will be yours. You best know what pro- 
 spect there is of obtaining it ; and alas ! 
 when I consider what a splendid mar- 
 riage has been made hy i\\t younger son, 
 can / believe Lord and Lady Bellamore
 
 192 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 will allow me to be the bride of tbe 
 eider?" 
 
 '^ Very true," said Aubrey : *' I did 
 marry wonderfully well for a younger 
 brother; and little splendid here, this 
 small diamond, but of the first water, 
 which I wear in my bosom, was thought 
 a fit match even for my eider brother. 
 But remember that, in the first place, a 
 man who will be the representative of 
 two rich and noble houses does not 
 want so much money as his younger 
 brother; and in the second place, a no- 
 bleman — a — a 
 
 Alas!" cried Aubrey, " though sure 
 of the indulgence of my audience I can- 
 not go on ; for I cannot speak against my 
 conscience— ^without a fee at least — and 
 I own my fears of ultimate disappoint- 
 ment for you, my dear brother, are equal 
 to my hopes of your success." 
 
 The next d,^y the brothers challenged
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 193 
 
 Lady Barbara to take a long walk with 
 them ; and as they went along they told 
 her that in their rambles that morning 
 before breakfast, they had seen in a cot- 
 tage the prettiest children they had ever 
 beheld. 
 
 '' Do you say so, Aubrey.^" asked 
 Lady Barbara reproachfully. 
 
 '^ Yes : I do." 
 
 " What! prettier than your own chil- 
 dren?" 
 
 " Prettier than they were when I last 
 saw them." 
 
 " Aye: but that is three days ago, and 
 one had not been well. William has not 
 seen my children a long time ; therefore 
 his praise does not mortify me." 
 
 " And why should mine, my love.^ 
 If our children were ugly, I should not 
 think them so ; nor should I love them 
 the less, if I did: for are they not equally 
 yours and mine, Barbara ? " 
 
 VOL. i^ K
 
 194 LOVE, MYSTERY. 
 
 *^ Yes: but still one likes to have 
 pretty children." 
 
 " But you^ it seems, want yours to 
 be the prettiest children ; and though I 
 reverence maternal tenderness, I do not 
 admire maternal vanity." 
 
 ** But must they not always go toge- 
 ther, Aubrey ? Can you separate the weed 
 from the flower .^ " 
 
 *^ But 1 can discourage the one, and 
 cherish the other." 
 
 " Well, as you please ; only do not, if 
 you love me, think any children prettier 
 than your own. But where are these 
 wonders ? am I to see them '^ " 
 
 They nov/ entered the cottage ; and Tyr- 
 connel, with a countenance of affectionate 
 pleasure, held out to the delighted Lady 
 Barbara her own rosy girl, while the nurse 
 made her appearance with the other child. 
 "Oh! my dear considerate brother, how 
 did you contrive this delightful surprise.^"
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 195 
 
 *' Why, you must know, Barbara, that 
 when I found from Aubrey liow reluctant 
 you were to stay, though benevolence con- 
 quered selfishness, I resolved that my gcrin 
 should not be your loss ; and having dis- 
 patched a note to my mother, I prepared 
 Rosalie's friends at this cottage to accom- 
 modate your children for a few days." 
 
 '' A few days, WiUiam! If you wish 
 It/' cried the enthusiastic Lady Barbara, 
 ^' I will now stay months." 
 
 *' But what would ouv parents say to 
 that, Barbara.^" 
 
 " And what would the law say to tw^P" 
 said her husband. 
 
 " True, I see I am wrong; but, my 
 dear husband and brother," cried she, 
 folding each child by turns to her bosom, 
 *' how difficult it is when one is very 
 happy, to consider other people!" 
 
 " But not difficult to consider one's 
 parents ? " 
 
 k2
 
 196 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 ** No: to be sure not; but when one's 
 near view is so delightful, it is very ex- 
 cusable, for a few moments at least, to for- 
 get a more distant one, however dear." 
 
 As they left the cottage, to which Lady 
 Barbara made an excuse for returning at 
 least half a dozen times, she said with 
 great earnestness, ''' Do you think Rosalie 
 will consider it a breach of decorum and 
 feeling to come with me to the cottage 
 before the funeral is over? for I do so 
 long to show her my children !" 
 
 To shorten my narrative as much as 
 possible, I shall only say that Madeleine 
 was interred in thechapel, under the stonCsS 
 w^here she had been accustomed to pro- 
 strate herself; that the interment was at- 
 tended by a numerous congregation, who 
 had lost in the deceased the kindest of 
 benefactors. 
 
 Sweetly soothing was this tribute to 
 the souls of the survivors; and when
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 197 
 
 Dupont rejoined his guests in the even- 
 ing, Ills countenance was placid, and his 
 conversation cheerful. 
 
 After breakfast thiC next morning, Tyr- 
 connel entered the room where his bro- 
 ther and sister were sitting, vrith a dis- 
 turbed countenance and with an open 
 letter in his hand. 
 
 * See here," said he, *' what one of my 
 father's servants has just brought me ! 
 
 Aubrey read the letter, and observed 
 that it was what he expected : " Your 
 servant," said he, " gave such a descrip- 
 tion of Rosalie's beauty to the lady's maid 
 at Forest Lodge, that I foresaw what 
 would happen." 
 
 ** And pray, what has happened.^" 
 asked Lady Barbara. 
 
 " My father and mother, and your fa- 
 ther and mother, with Lady Honoria 
 Mandeville and others, are now at Cowes, 
 on a tour round the island if the snow 
 does not fall ; and you and Aubrey and
 
 198 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 I are expected to join them there im- 
 mediately." 
 
 *^ What I and leave my children and 
 Rosalie ! No, no ; you may go, but I 
 shall stay here." 
 
 '' Thank you ; but if I go you must go, 
 or our parents would be offended : and 
 Tyrconnel must go, I fear, at all events.'* 
 
 " I fear so too. I must not run any 
 risk of offending them, as on their favour 
 now so much depends : besides, they have 
 been such kind and tender parents, that 
 till now I always found my best pleasure 
 in my duty : but then, to leave Kosalie! " 
 
 To shorten my story: — When Tyr- 
 connel communicated the contents of his 
 father's letter to Dupont, the latter told 
 him he was very glad that he had received 
 a summons, for that he meant to pro- 
 pose that he should quit the castle im- 
 mediately, and go to Lord Bellamore to 
 acquaint him with his attachment, and 
 the peculiar situation of the object of it ;
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 199 
 
 for that he could not think he himself 
 was acting an honourable part, while al- 
 lowing any man to address a ward of hh 
 unknown to his parents. " WtW do I 
 know," continued he, ** that your father 
 will disapprove your passion, and forbid 
 your marriage ; but tell him not to bid 
 you utterly despair, till he knows every 
 thing concerning the birth and connec- 
 tions of Rosalie. If, when acquainted with 
 them, he objects to her as )'our wife, I 
 have not ?iow to tell you, my dear young 
 friend that that objection must be final." 
 I shall not describe the parting hour ; 
 that hour, more trying to those who 7t- 
 mai/i than to those who go ; as a path, a 
 view, a chair, the merest trifle, are to the 
 former, melancholy memorials of depart- 
 ed pleasures — while for the latter, new 
 scenes, new objects, and even motion it- 
 self, possess a power to lull the mind in 
 temporary forgetfulness.
 
 LOVE, MYSTERY, AND 
 SUPERSTITION. 
 
 PART THE THIRD. 
 
 Most dangerous 
 
 Is that temptation which does goad us on 
 To sin in loving virtue." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 After Tyrconnel had been gone more 
 than a week, Dupont received the follow- 
 ing letter from him : 
 
 *' It is only nine days since I left you, 
 my dear friend, yet it seems to me nine 
 months ; and it will really be nine months 
 I believe before we get round the island, 
 if we travel as slowly as we have hitherto 
 done.
 
 LOVE, MYSTERY, ETC. 201 
 
 " Oh ! how time drags with me now ! 
 Did you ever see me weary while I was 
 with you ? Never. But how can I hear 
 to enter on what must, however reluct- 
 antly, be told ? 
 
 "I soon found that Lady Honoria Man- 
 deville and another beauty were, like two 
 greyhounds in one string, to be let slip 
 against my poor heart, and that I was ex- 
 pected to gallant them about. But I was so 
 undutiful as always to carry off our own 
 dear Barbara under my arm, and leave 
 the single women to Aubrey. How could 
 I do otherwise ? I had been told that 
 Lady Honoria was my intended bride, 
 and that our parents had talked mat- 
 ters over. Could I then, as a man of 
 honour, pay the young lady any atten- 
 tion, since that attention was liable to 
 misconstruction ? No, no, I could not. 
 Besides, one thought of Rosalie was 
 enough to render all pretenders to my 
 k5
 
 262 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 love odious to me ; especially as I was 
 sure that William Tyrconnel, the son of 
 a mere private gentleman, would not 
 have obtained one of the kind glances 
 cast on the Honourable William Tyr- 
 connel, son of Lord Bellamore, and heir 
 to Lord Delmayne. O these titles ! would 
 I were indeed plain William Tyrconnel! 
 Then perhaps — Yet no : she is worthy 
 of coronets, and I am glad I can place 
 them on her brow ; but can I do so ? 
 Hear and judge. 
 
 " You may suppose that Lady Honoria 
 was not pleased, nor at all amused, by 
 my disagreeable silence: at the end of a 
 week, therefore, .^he made an excuse for 
 returning to London ; and I then | erceiv- 
 ed that I should have a S'cciie vvith my 
 father. But of this 1 was desirous: my 
 secret lay heavy on my mind ; for nevep 
 till now had I had a thought or a wish 
 concealed.
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 203 
 
 " I dreaded however to have the expla- 
 nation tete-a-tete with my father. I 
 therefore contrived to lead to it when 
 my mother, brother, and Barbara were 
 present. Suffice, that after I had told 
 my tale, after Barbara and Aubrey had 
 pleaded better for me than I did for 
 myself, (blessings on their generous na- 
 tures!) all I could obtain was a promise 
 not to forbid me entirely to hope, till the 
 mystery hanging over Rosalie's birth 
 be cleared up ; and then, if no disgrace 
 attends her birth, in favour of her ac- 
 complishments and virtues he will wave 
 all other considerations ; and, for the 
 sake of his son's happiness, receive her as 
 his daughter : but this only on 07ie con- 
 ditiori — that we do noi jueet till the time 
 for solving the mystery arrives. 
 
 *' I cannot go on. () sir I kr.ow you 
 will enter into my feelings, aid will not 
 suppose that selfish consideration for my-
 
 204 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 self can make me fail in love and duty 
 towards you. But surely, surely, your 
 vow may be more generously interpreted. 
 Surely, if, as you say, your health is wast- 
 ing daily, and you are every day therefore 
 expecting the approach of death, you are 
 as it were on your d<^ath-bed ; and it 
 would be no infringement of your vow to 
 disclose the secret : do it then while you 
 can reasonably hope to witness the happy 
 results. But forgive me ! Your own con- 
 science is your best guide ; and I respect- 
 fully await its decree. 
 
 '* I write to Rosalie, but it is for the last 
 time — all intercourse is forbidden — ab- 
 solutely all, God bless you ! My heart 
 is too full to allow me to say more. 
 ** William Tyrconnel." 
 
 The Answer^, 
 " Your father, dear Tyrconnel, has in 
 * The letter to Rosalie and her answer do not appear.
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 205 
 
 my opinion acted a wise and virtuous 
 part ; and has refused, as I myself should 
 have done, to admit into his family a 
 young woman of mysterious birth and 
 unknown connexions ; but he has, with a 
 degree of justice which I honour, consent- 
 ed to receive her if her birth be not stain- 
 ed with disgrace. 
 
 *' That, time will soon reveal — and in 
 the mean while his prohibition of inter- 
 course between you is another proof of 
 his wisdom ; for, if you are not ultimately 
 to be united to Rosalie, further inter- 
 course would be cruel to you both, as it 
 would only increase your mutual attach- 
 ment; and if that attachment cannot 
 stand the test of absence, your union 
 ought never to take place. 
 
 ** I have a pleasure in telling you, that 
 Mr. Fenton confirms all my ideas of my 
 own malady ; and that the organs of life 
 become more diseased every day ; but be
 
 206 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 assured, that only when I am literally on 
 my bed of death will I make the pro- 
 mised disclosure. When I am really 
 there, I shall dispatch an express to 
 you. 
 
 '^ Rosalie looks pale, but she bears up 
 for my sake wonderfully ; and so, I hope, 
 do you for the sake oi your parents. 
 
 " Believe me, both in life and in death, 
 ** Your faithful and affectionate 
 
 " Bertram Dupont." 
 
 Three weeks had worn heavily away; 
 and bad roads, heavy carriages, and occa- 
 sional indispositions made long excur- 
 sions impossible; when at length Tyr- 
 connel one morning received by express 
 from the castle, a letter written in a hand 
 scarcely legible. It contained only a few^ 
 words : 
 
 *' My prayers are heard — I am dying — 
 and before you have left the island —
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 207 
 
 Come you ! come all, at the earnest re- 
 quest of an expiring man ! 
 
 " RlNAr.DO CONTE AI. G." 
 
 Tyrconnel went instantly to his father's 
 bedside, and obtained his promise, and 
 that of his mother, that they would fol- 
 low him (as they hoped) with the rest 
 of the party, as soon as their six horses 
 could be harnessed. 
 
 The brothers set off immediately. — 
 They found Dupont quite composed, and 
 with an evident expression of satisfaction 
 in his countenance ; while his whole 
 soul seemed in his eyes as he gazed on 
 Rosalie, who sat on the bed beside him 
 wiping the damps of death from his brow, 
 and giving and receiving the most affec- 
 tionate caresses, scarcely turning from her 
 interesting charge to welcome her long 
 absent lover. 
 
 ** Here are the papers which I men-
 
 208 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 tioned to you," said Dupont ; *^ and they 
 are so long, that / have wished, earnestly 
 wished, your parents would arrive, as it 
 would be a trial to me indeed to die un- 
 certain of the fate of this most precious 
 child. Yet, if it must be so, I shall not 
 dare to murmur; for I have merited no- 
 thing but chastisements, and every mercy 
 shown me surprises as much as it en- 
 courages rne." 
 
 Tyrconnel received the packet with a 
 trembling hand, and though he longed to 
 open them he dared not do it : besides, 
 he wished to hope as long as he could, 
 and those papers rnight bid him despair. 
 
 It was more than an hour before Tyr- 
 connel, who was anxiously on the ivatch, 
 hailed the arrival of the party; but at 
 length they came, and Aubrey went down 
 to receive them. 
 
 *^ Surely," said the dying man," Rosalie 
 ought to go down to welcome them."
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 209 
 
 " What! and leave you ? I cannot, in* 
 deed I cannot." 
 
 '' You can return again in a short 
 time; and really my mind is so relieved 
 now I know they are here, that I be- 
 lieve death much more distant than I 
 expected." And as Mr. Fenton, who 
 now entered, declared that the pulse was 
 rather stronger than when he felt it last» 
 Rosalie allowed Tyrconnel to lead her 
 down stairs. But it was as much against 
 his inclination as against hers: for, as yet, 
 Tyrconnel knew her by no other name 
 than Rosalie ; and as Rosalie mibj he 
 could not present her to persons who to 
 high rank, and the pride of lofty birth, 
 united formality of manners and rigid 
 ideas of decorum. But there was no al- 
 ternative; and Tyrconnel tried to repress 
 in his beloved charge that reluctance 
 which he was only too conscious of him- 
 self. In Rosalie, however, it was reluc-
 
 210 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 tance onhj^ unmixed with any feeling of 
 bashful trepidation ; for how coiild that 
 being who had just left the chamber of 
 death, and the contemplation of the dying, 
 feel awed at appearing before any one of 
 mortal mould ? "Dust and ashes as we are, 
 or soon must be, is it for us," she might 
 have said, ''to plume ourselves upon the 
 distinctions of worldly grandeur, and look 
 down on our fellow-creatures, when the 
 time perhaps is near that shall make one 
 act of recollected virtue, and a single as- 
 piration of present faith, however gently 
 breathed, of more value than all the 
 splendours of a coronet ? " But it was not 
 to such reflections, however just, that Ro- 
 salie was indebted for her present cou- 
 rage. • It was sacred s or roiv which lifted 
 her above the admission of any other 
 feeling, and even made her insensible to 
 the wish of pleasing the parents of Tyr- 
 connel.
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 211 
 
 When she entered the room, Tyrconnel 
 v/as reHeved at once from his embarrass- 
 ment by Lady Barbara, who joyfully 
 exclaimed, '' Oh ! here is my dear friend 
 Rosahe." 
 
 The Countess of Delmayne and the 
 Lady Bellamore, and their lords, imme- 
 diately rose ; and with a manner which 
 they meant to be very gracious, and 
 with the consciousness of condescension, 
 the ladies advanced a step or two to 
 meet the pale and tearful girl. But the 
 long and fine-turned neck of Rosalie 
 bent itself more courteously than hum- 
 bly to their salutation ; and her step was 
 so firm, her manner so self-possessed, 
 that they who came intending only to 
 bestow protection were struck with in- 
 voluntary respect. 
 
 Aubrey had set a chair for her near his 
 mother^ and every one seemed expecting 
 her to speak. Rosalie too felt that she was
 
 212 LOVE. MYSTERY, 
 
 called upon to do so, and in words nearly 
 inaudible she thanked the visiters for 
 their truly kind compliance with the 
 wishes of a dying stranger ; but as the re- 
 collection that he was dying recurred to 
 her, she earnestly conjured them to ex- 
 cuse her, if she returned instantly to his 
 room. 
 
 The expiring sufferer looked eagerly 
 in the face of Tyrconnel, as he led Ro- 
 salie to the bedside, to read there, if he 
 could, what impression she had made on 
 his guests ; for he had urged her going 
 to them, in hopes that her beauty and 
 her sorrow would make her an interest 
 in their hearts. But he had seen little of 
 the world, and knew not how much the 
 habits and restraints of civilised society 
 fetter not only the expression of the feel- 
 ings, but the feelings themselves. 
 
 Deluded man! Rosalie's appearance had 
 produced an unfavourable effect on tl^e
 
 AND SUPERSTITIOK. 213 
 
 mother of Lady Barbara, who had never 
 quite forgiven Tyrconnel's indifference to 
 her daughter. Still, however, as she was 
 a generous good-hearted woman, she felt 
 a wish to promise protection to a poor 
 friendless orphan: 2J\d. protection implies 
 power; and the love of power is not only 
 a universal passion, but one that it is 
 gratifying to indulge. And Lady Del- 
 mayne pleased herself with the example 
 she should set Lady Bellamore, and with 
 the anticipation of soothing the terrors 
 of the trembling and embarrassed Ro- 
 salie. But lo ! Rosahe was neither trem- 
 bling nor embarrassed. Lady Delmapie, 
 therefore, was mortified and disappointed. 
 
 Aubrey's observing eye discovered this, 
 and he dared not ask what the family 
 thought of Rosalie. 
 
 Not so Lady Barbara. With her usual 
 warmth of heart she exclaimed, " Well, 
 is she not very beautiful ?"
 
 214 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 '' We saw her to great disadvantage," 
 said Lady Bellamore. 
 
 " Her face we did," said her lord ; 
 *' but her figure is the finest that I ever 
 saw, and her air dignified." 
 
 ''Dignified!" cried Lady Delmayne : 
 '* Proud, I think. Surely no Duchess 
 could have carried her head more high." 
 
 "True," said Aubrey coldly ; " for Ro- 
 salie has great dignity of mind, and that 
 usually gives dignity of manner and self- 
 possession. Were she the child of a 
 peasant, her manner would be the same. 
 What you call pride, I call proper self- 
 respect." 
 
 " But do you not think, Aubrey, that 
 the consciousness of high birth gives a 
 sort of grace and air to the person, how- 
 ever diminutive, which no one could mis- 
 take.?" 
 
 " My dear madam," replied Aubrey, 
 *' do you think that if a stranger were
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 215 
 
 not told who this laughing-eyed, bustling 
 little person beside me was, he would in- 
 stantly discover that she was an EaiTs 
 daughter ?" 
 
 *^ He would know, at least, that sh« 
 was of rank ; for you have often said your- 
 self, sir, that it was impossible for Lady 
 Barbara Delmayne to move ungrace- 
 fully : and what can this be owing to, 
 but to that consciousness of her own 
 consequence, which alone can give that 
 ease to the manner, in which grace con- 
 sists ?" 
 
 " What a piece of pride and conceit, 
 then, have I been loving so tenderly and 
 so long without knowing it !" 
 
 " You are always laughing at Barbara 
 about her littleness, Aubrey ; but she is 
 not so very short, though she is certainly 
 not a May-pole." 
 
 " My dear lady, she knows she is ' as
 
 216 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 high as my heart ; and knowing that, I 
 know she is contented. Are you not, 
 Barbara ? " 
 
 " I was— but am so no longer." 
 
 "No!" 
 
 *' No," replied she, seeing the storm 
 gathering on her mother's brow% and 
 wishing to avert it by a joke. " No, not 
 since I have gained the high appella- 
 tion of angel ; and you know the poor 
 Count says I look and am an angel ; his 
 guardian angels 
 
 " Does the Count say so ?" said Lady 
 Delmayne, frowning no longer. 
 
 -Oyes!" 
 
 Tyrconnel's entrance interrupted her. 
 He came with the manuscript in his 
 hand. 
 
 '' Begin, dear brother, begin," cried 
 Lady Barbara. 
 
 But finding he was too much agi-
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 217 
 
 tated to command his voice sufficiently, 
 he resigned the task of reading it to 
 Aubrey ; and he read as follows : 
 
 Confessions of ^iSK\.T>o, Conte Manfredi 
 di Guastalla. 
 
 Little did you suspect, that the son 
 of one of the first families in Italy, a fa- 
 mily which has given ambassadors, states- 
 men, and heroes to its country, was hid- 
 den under the unhonoured name of Ber- 
 tram Dupont, and was wearing away 
 existence in a foreign land, in solitude 
 and in penance. Little could you ima- 
 gine, that he who avoided the eye of cu- 
 riosity, and whom real and imagined 
 fears forced into concealment, was once 
 the object of public veneration, and courted 
 and applauded by the learned, the virtu- 
 ous, the good, and the pious. Yet, so it 
 was ; till self-confidence hurled me down 
 from my pinnacle of earthly exaltation, to 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 LOVEi MYSTERY, 
 
 prove a warning example to others, that 
 he who trusts in his own strength shall 
 fall ; and that those who fancy them- 
 selves superior to temptation shall be 
 cast down in the midst of their imagined 
 security, to change the vauntings of a 
 confident spirit for the agonies of a con- 
 trite one. 
 
 I was the second son of the Duke 
 Manfredi, by his second wife, in right of 
 whom I bore the name and enjoyed the 
 fortune of the family of Guastalla : but at 
 an early age I discovered a distaste for 
 the things of this world, and a passion 
 for retirement and theological studies, 
 which seemed to prove me called by a 
 voice from Heaven to devote myself to 
 the service of the church. 
 
 My father opposed my calling, but my 
 brothers encouraged it : on them and their 
 motives, however, I wish not to dwell : 
 suffice it, that I persisted in my religious
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 210 
 
 vocation, and that my first degrees in 
 sanctity were taken by a v iolation of the 
 duti/ of obedience to my father. 
 
 He menaced, he entreated, in vain; and 
 at the age of sixteen I began my novi- 
 tiate in a convent of Benedictines at 
 Rome. 
 
 With what delight did my ears drink 
 in the praises bestowed on my early and 
 distinguished piety ! How was my pride 
 gratified, when I found my acts of extra- 
 ordinary self-denial and penance the 
 theme of admiration, and that I wan held 
 up as a model to the other novices in the 
 convent ! Infatuated being ! not to feel 
 that the heart which was elated by hu- 
 man praise for homage to its God^ was 
 actuated by an earthly ambition, not by 
 the irresistible impulses of heavenly zeal. 
 But I thought myself the holiest of the 
 [holy, and I took the vows at the age of 
 seventeen. Yes, the youthful Count 
 l2
 
 220 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 Manfredi di Guastalla laid down his 
 worldly honours, to be known no more 
 but as the Father Francesco. Still the 
 ambition of my soul prompted me, in 
 spite of my renunciation of my titles, to 
 illustrate the name of Father Francisco 
 by eloquence and learning ; and in idea 
 the sacred tiara already glittered on my 
 brow. With this view, though I re* 
 doubled my austerities, I at the same 
 time also redoubled my attention to 
 my studies; and my fame as a preacher, 
 when once I had been permitted to ascend 
 the chair, spread from Rome through 
 every town in the Pontificate ; till, by the 
 time that I was one-and-twenty, crowds 
 collected wherever I was, to see me pass 
 along, and kiss the hem of my garment ; 
 and the proudest beauties of Italy hum- 
 bled themselves in the overwhelming con- 
 sciousness of sin before the holy elo- 
 quence of the youthful Benedictine. But
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 221 
 
 did not he who thus admonished others, 
 require admonition himself ? Was he 
 who called sinners to repentance, free 
 himself from the consciousness of sin ? 
 Alas ! undetected, the damning sin of 
 pride clave unto my secret soul, and ter- 
 rible was the humiliation preparing for 
 me. 
 
 By this time I was known personally 
 as a theologian, a saint, and an orator, to 
 some of the first men of the age; to 
 Cardinal de Retz, and other distinguished 
 men who visited Rome ; and I was invited 
 to go to Paris, to preach before the Grand 
 Monarque: nor would my vanity have 
 denied itself this gratification, had I not 
 been certainly stopped in my career by 
 a power whose influence I despised, and 
 against which, puffed up with self-righte- 
 ousness, I had never thought of arming 
 myself by humble reliance on my God. 
 
 The Marquis di Romano, a distant re^
 
 222 Love, mystery, 
 
 lation of our family, who had married the 
 heiress of the house of Viseonti, died, 
 leaving only two daughters to inherit his 
 and his wife's possessions. 
 
 The younger of these daughters, Sera- 
 phina Celesi, became attached, at the age 
 of fifteen, to a Scotch nobleman, theyoung 
 Earl of Monrose^ who was travelling in 
 Italy with a tutor and his servant, our 
 faithful Donald. But her poor widowed 
 mother, who could not bear that her child 
 should marry a foreigner, though a Catho- 
 lic, violently opposed the union ; she op- 
 posed it in vain, andat last she was brought 
 to consent, that at the end of two years the 
 marriage should take place, if Monrose 
 returned at that time to Italy as much in 
 love as when he left it. 
 
 The elder of these daughters, Rosmunda 
 Celesi, who was two years my junior, be- 
 lieved herself, alas ! incapableof any earthly 
 love; andglowingwith enthusiasm, resolved
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 223 
 
 to resign the pride of rank, of wealth, and 
 of beauty, and devote herself to a cloister. 
 
 The Marchioness opposed this hea- 
 venly union, as much as she had done 
 the terrestrial one : but filial duty had no 
 power against the impulses of a heated 
 imagination. She was resolved, as I had 
 been, to live and die in the odour of sanc- 
 tity ; and when she heard of my exalted 
 sacrifice of the world and all its allure^ 
 ments, she declared that it was her am- 
 bition to prove herself worthy of the con- 
 sanguinity which she bore me; and that 
 she trusted I should one day be proud of 
 my cloistered kinswoman. 
 
 Alas! I fear that I was proud of her al- 
 ready ; proud of having made so distin- 
 guished a convert, and of having snatched 
 from the snares of the world a being so 
 beautiful, and a soul so precious. Em- 
 boldened by her conscious call, she ad- 
 dressed a letter to me, though we had
 
 224 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 never met, in which she solicited my ad- 
 vice and encouragement in the path 
 which she had chosen, and I gave them 
 with pride. 
 
 My letter, perhaps, nay certainly^ put 
 the seal to her fate, and her unhappy mo- 
 tlier continued to plead in vain, 
 
 '^ Only wait a fev/ years, my beloved 
 child ; you are too young yet to form any 
 opinion on subjects of such importance ; 
 and remember, that if you become a nun^ 
 you leave me desolate and alone." 
 
 Such Vv^as the language of the Mar- 
 chioness ; but the poor victim of her own 
 rashness thought it, as I did, the plead- 
 ing of worldly selfishness, and prepared to 
 enter upon her novitiate. But the time 
 of her probation was delayed by an acci- 
 dent which happened to her mother, 
 who by a fall from a carnage appeared 
 to have been killed upon the spot : she 
 recovered however to existence, though
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 225 
 
 never to reason and perception. Still, 
 her daughter resolved to leave her to 
 the care of ethers, impelled (she fancied) 
 by a higher duty, and began her novitiate 
 in a convent of female Benedictines at 
 Ferrara. 
 
 In the mean while I was advancing in 
 reputation, and was the delighted idol 
 of kneeling crowds ; and engravings of 
 me, taken from the picture which you 
 will find in the box I shall give you, were 
 spread over the Continent. Scarcely, 
 pei'haps, will you believe, that I ever re- 
 sembled that picture, which exhibits a 
 man glowing with the bloom of youth, 
 and in unblighted pride. The print, 
 however, which is colourless, resembles 
 me still ; and little did Father Vincent 
 think, when he looked on the mysterious 
 stranger with so suspicious an eye at Del- 
 mayne, that a portrait of me was hang- 
 ing up in his apartment, as the holy Fa-
 
 526 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 ther Francesco. This print was given by 
 one of our mutual relatives to Rosmunda, 
 who sent me in return, with a letter full 
 of humble veneration, a miniature of her- 
 self painted by a pensioner in her nun's 
 dress, soon after she had taken the vows, 
 and when the austerities of her religi- 
 ous duties had begun to injure the roses 
 of her cheek. But, though I knew it not, 
 in spite of its languid eye and faded 
 bloom, that face, when I first beheld it 
 even in painting, called forth in me emo- 
 tions nevei' known before. I fancied 
 them the result of admiration for that 
 zeal, which could resolve to bury such 
 beauty in a convent : but though my proud 
 beart disdained to believe that aught of 
 human passion mingled with my adora- 
 tion, certain it is, that I have often turned 
 fi'om the image of the Virgin, to gaze on 
 Sister Angela (as Rosmunda was now 
 called) ; and'that, having done so, I have
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 227 
 
 penned letters to her glowing with all the 
 fervour of earthly and forbidden ardour. 
 She, poor innocent ! believed as I did; and 
 we were far gone in a correspondence, 
 which, though it treated wholly of religion, 
 was written with the pen of passion, when 
 we both of us fell ill, — I from the fatigues 
 and austerities of ray religious profession, 
 which threatened me with consumption, 
 and she from her too rigorous observance 
 of fasts and penances. We were both or- 
 dered by our physician to the baths of Baia, 
 near which our mutual relative, the young 
 Marquis di Romano, had lately purchased 
 a villa. Our noble relatives were exces' 
 sively devoted to holy books and holy .be- 
 ings; and the idea of having two such youth- 
 ful saints near them was most gratifying 
 to their enthusiastic minds. Nor was it 
 long before they formed to themselves 
 the delightful prospect of prevailing on us 
 to take up our abode under their loof.
 
 228 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 And what should prevent It ? No danger 
 could accrue to two such sanctified beings 
 from a familiar intercourse ; and there 
 was no doubt but that their whole family 
 would be edified and hallowed by our pre- 
 sence. 
 
 Alas ! our own betraying wishes agreed 
 but too well with theirs ; and I veiled my 
 real motives from my view, by believing 
 that I wished to converse on doctrinal 
 points with my correspondent face to 
 face, because I had reason, as I fancied, 
 to apprehend that she was a little tinc- 
 tured with Jansenism ; as she had been 
 deeply impressed with the high reputation 
 and talents of Sister Angelica of Port- 
 Royal, where heresy was suspected to 
 flourish under the countenance of the ce- 
 lebrated Arnauds. 
 
 To be brief : We consented to stay at 
 the villa of the Marquis, and still more 
 eagerly consented to meet there. O day of
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 229 
 
 fate ! a day big with inconceivable mi- 
 sery, when I first gazed upon that form of 
 breathing loveHness, and viewed that face 
 where the woman's impassioned tender- 
 ness, and the saint's holy zeal, shed inde- 
 scribable fascination over the features of a 
 Grecian Venus ! Never shall I forget my 
 emotion, when she bent her knee with 
 modest reverence before me, and,crossing 
 her beautiful hands on her bosom, be- 
 sought my blessing. 
 
 Those hands, so often lifted with con- 
 fidence to call down blessings upon others, 
 now trembled, as if palsied by conscious 
 forebodings, while raised to Heaven for 
 her; and the voice faltered, which uttered 
 the now inarticulate prayer. 
 
 When she rose, with a glistening eye 
 and blushing cheek, and gazed upon me 
 with a look of flattering regard and re- 
 verence, the tender impulse which made
 
 230 LOVE, MYSTERV, 
 
 me wish to clasp her to my heart, ought 
 to have convinced me, that though I 
 proudly thought myself a teacher 
 and an example, my breast was about 
 to glow with a consuming fire, and one 
 which other love than that of Hea- 
 ven had kindled. But I was self-con- 
 fiding ; and I thought that for me, the 
 gifted one, to fall from grace, was im- 
 possible, and I hurried blindly on to 
 my destruction. Alas ! I hurried not on 
 alone. 
 
 We had met, and we were left daily to- 
 gether ; for we feared not for ourselves, 
 and who should presume to fear for us ? 
 When not alone, we witnessed the wed- 
 ded happinesis of the Marquis and his 
 Paulina ; and we judged by their parental 
 transports, as they beheld the gambols of 
 their children, how sweet it was to be a 
 jjarent. Once, too, the inconsiderate
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 231 
 
 Marquis said, as he held one of his babes 
 up in his arms to be kissed by Angela, 
 
 " See, my dear cousin, what a cherub 
 this girl is ! And such a blessing might 
 have been yours, had not you been called 
 Hpon to resign all worldly ties, and even 
 the lawful indulgence of the purest af- 
 fections^ for the still higher joys of the 
 self-devoted vestal." 
 
 ^' Aye, and you too, holy father," cried 
 Tiis innocent wife, "you too gave up a great 
 deal to gain the height at which you now 
 stand. What a beautiful couple would 
 you and sister Angela have been ! Your 
 children would have been little angels !" 
 
 It is strange, though true, that till this 
 moment the veil had never been removed 
 from the eyes of either of us ; but it now 
 fell, never to be replaced ! 
 
 I felt a mist come over my sight, and 
 should have fallen to the ground had not 
 a acream from the Marchioness restored
 
 232 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 me to myself; for Angela, conscious like 
 myself, too late, of the sacrifice we had 
 made through the delusions of a heated 
 fancy, had sunk nearly insensible at her 
 feet. However, my support she deter- 
 minedly avoided, while to the arm of the 
 Marquis she clung with conscious pre- 
 ference. But she had not an equal power 
 over her eyes ; for when she unclosed 
 them again they involuntarily sought 
 mine ; and that look, given and returned, 
 discovered by a single glance the heart of 
 the one to the other. 
 
 Terrible was the night I passed. — She, 
 I conclude, had slept as little ; and we ap- 
 peared the next day with such altered 
 looks, that our kind-hearted relations, 
 who had rejoiced in our renovated bloom 
 during our stay at Baia, now grieved to 
 think they should restore us to our cells 
 with the same pallid cheeks we wore at 
 our arrival. — Restore us to our cells ! As
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 233 
 
 well might they have hoped to restore the 
 Neapolitan to his dwelling which had 
 been covered with a burning tide of lava. 
 We had indeed recovered our health 
 during our fatal visit, for we were happy 
 in the unconscious gratification of the 
 dearest feelings of our nature. We loved, 
 and we were near each other ; no pang 
 of remorse clouded over our pleasure ; 
 and when we retired at night, we knew 
 that we should meet and converse the 
 next day, and nearly all the day, with 
 each other. But now, what was to be 
 done ? I felt that we must separate ; at 
 least I thought this in my cooler mo- 
 ments : but sometimes, as I was sure my 
 passion was returned, I had serious 
 thoughts of conjuring Angela to fly with 
 me from the unnatural fetters in which 
 the frantic dreams of our youth had bound 
 us, and vow at another altar to pass our 
 lives together. Next moment, shocked
 
 234 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 at my own delinquency, I shrunk not from 
 the less criminal resolve, — as I considered 
 it, — of self-destruction : for how could I 
 bear to live, and live without Angela ? 
 
 Weak, deluded being ! Now was the 
 time to prove the reality of that holy vo- 
 cation, in whose imagined security I had 
 60 presumptuously gloried, proudly sup- 
 posing myself raised above the frailties 
 and temptations of human nature, be- 
 cause I had never been exposed to their 
 assault. Now was the time to show my 
 faith, by conquering my weakness : hi- 
 therto I had claimed the honours of a tri- 
 umph, before I had fought, or even beheld 
 a battle. 
 
 What was passing in the mind and 
 heart of Angela was, as I afterwards 
 found, a transcript of mine ; but, more 
 Capable of self-command than I was, 
 she continued to avoid me, and for two 
 days, under pretence of indisposition, she
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 235 
 
 kept her chamber. — This conduct, instead 
 of exciting my respect and my emulation, 
 piqued my pride ; for I began to fear I 
 had deceived myself in thinking that she 
 loved me, and that her avoidance of me 
 proceeded from a desire to repress the 
 daring hope which my looks had dis- 
 played. Not from principle, thei*efore, 
 but from pique, I resolved to avoid her. 
 I did so ; and I had soon the cruel satis- 
 faction of seeing that she was wounded 
 by my averted eyes, and that her resolu- 
 tion of avoiding my presence was fast 
 failing her. But where, you will say, was 
 the penetration of the marquis and mar- 
 chioness ? Did they not guess the cause 
 of your altered conduct ? — No ; there are 
 some persons, and such were they, who, 
 when they have once conceived an opi- 
 nion, never can be led to change it. They 
 h^d believed, tliat for a monk, though he
 
 236 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 was only a monk of one-and-twenty, to 
 feel the power of beauty and the force of 
 passion was impossible ; and that a nun, 
 though only a girl of nineteen, could not 
 be susceptible of any love but that of her 
 Saviour. Therefore, they interfered not 
 to save us from each other and from our- 
 selves, and we were too faithless to our 
 best interests to implore with sincerity of 
 heart the aid of a higher being. 
 
 At this critical moment, Angela's 
 sister, who had just been united to the 
 man of her heart, came to pass the first 
 days of her marriage at the baths of Baia; 
 as she longed to make the sister whom 
 she loved the witness of her felicity. Lit- 
 tle did she think, that the nun whom she 
 had seen absorbed in her religious exer- 
 cises had now learnt to hold the cloister 
 in abhorrence. 
 
 Thev came; and we, whose bosoms
 
 AND SLTERSTITION. 237 
 
 burned with as warm a flame, were 
 doomed to witness the happy love which 
 we were forbidden to know. 
 
 At length my resolution was taken. — 
 I would return to my cell ; I would re- 
 sume my labours ; the dreams of ambi* 
 tion should replace those of love, and by 
 fasting and penance I would drive An- 
 gela from my thoughts. Yet, I was 
 resolved to grant my passion one indul- 
 gence, — I would own it to its object; I 
 would wring from her a confession of a 
 mutual attachment, and then resign her 
 for ever. And I did not long watch in 
 vain for an opportunity. 
 
 One day, as the shade of twilight stole 
 over the lovely gardens filled with a thou- 
 sand odours, and gently tinged with the 
 beams of the setting sun, the two pairs of 
 married lovers left us alone together. — 
 Conscious of the weakness of her own 
 heart, and suspecting that of mine.
 
 238 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 Angela rose, and would have followed 
 them ; but I forcibly detained her, and, 
 grasping her trembling arm, pointed to 
 the objects of our united envy, and ex- 
 claimed, *' See, Angela ! see those happy 
 husbands ! and think what tortures I en- 
 dure, who love as tenderly as they do, 
 and never must hope to be as happy ! — 
 Speak, thou whose beauty has undone 
 me ! Say, have you no pity for a wretch 
 whom you have made ? Tell me, Angela, 
 do I suffer alone ? " 
 
 As I spoke with passionate violence, 
 but in a voice subdued even to woman's 
 gentleness, I pressed her to my heart ; 
 and as her head fell upon my shoulder, 
 she murmured out, ** Yes, you must go ; 
 but know that my sufferings and my love 
 are as great as yours." 
 
 " Then why should we part?" cried I. 
 
 The scene, the hour, the sight of the 
 wedded happiness before us, and my im-
 
 AND SUPERSTITIOV. 239 
 
 passioned tenderness, laid the voice of 
 conscience to rest ; nor was it long be- 
 fore she bore to hear me talk of the 
 means of our elopement. To attempt 
 it would have been dangerous in the 
 extreme had we not each possessed, as 
 if it had been granted us on purpose 
 to lead us into temptation, a large sum 
 in money, and Angela a considerable 
 one in jewels. The marchioness had 
 breathed her last just before Angela 
 came to Baia ; and her share of the mo- 
 ney, which she had just received, together 
 with the jewels, which came to her as 
 the elder sister, were at that moment in 
 her apartment. I too had recently re- 
 ceived a considerable legacy from a rela- 
 tion. 
 
 It was dark before our companions, 
 lost in pleasing converse, returned to the 
 bower, and it was well for us that it was 
 so ; for though they believed our conver-
 
 240 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 sation had only been of spiritual things, 
 our disordered countenances,where reign- 
 ed by turns, tenderness, alarm, and con- 
 tentment, must have excited wonder if 
 not suspicion in their minds, could they 
 have beheld them. 
 
 My plan was this : I was to pur- 
 chase of one of the servants of the mar- 
 quis a complete suit of his oldest clothes ; 
 disguised in which I was to hire a mule, 
 and proceed to Naples^ where I should 
 purchase the dress of a male and female 
 peasant » In these we were to contrive 
 to escape to Bastia in a boat, which I 
 was to hire; and there the first priest 
 whom we met was at the nearest altar 
 to join our hands, 
 
 Angela, as I thought^ agreed to this 
 proposal ; and I bade her farewell, full of 
 love and joy. 
 
 But that night was a terrible trial to 
 her feeliogs ; for her sister followed her
 
 AND SUPERSTITiaN. 241 
 
 into her room, and, throwing herself on 
 her neck, bewailed with an agony of 
 tears the evident unhappiness which her 
 countenance betrayed. 
 
 *' You know how earnestly I opposed 
 your religious profession," said she: " but 
 when I thought it was for your happiness, 
 and when I saw you happy I was reconciled 
 to it. But now that some secret sorrow is 
 evidently undermining your health, I fear 
 you find too late you have deceived your- 
 self, and repent the sacrifice which you 
 then made." 
 
 This affectionate appeal was more than 
 the conscious Angela could bearj while 
 with a beating heart she assured her be- 
 loved sister, that though she was deject- 
 ed then, she should not be so long. An- 
 gela's heart, however, died within her, 
 when she remembered that ere three days 
 were past she should never perhaps see 
 this darling being more ! The thoxight 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 was madness ; and as I was absent, and 
 this beloved sister present, her resolution 
 to sacrifice every thing to love and tne 
 died away; and I waited for her at the 
 appointed place in vain. 
 
 Oh 1 how desperate were my feelings, 
 while I resumed the garb which I thought 
 I had resigned for ever, and, hastening to 
 the villa, walked with indignant mien to the 
 balconyj where I saw Angela sitting alone ! 
 Terrified at my frantic gestures, she join* 
 ed me in the garden ; and when I swore 
 never to survive another disappointment, 
 she solemnly promised to follow me that 
 night to the shore. Unseen we reached 
 it, and embarked on board the vessel. 
 
 When we reached Bastia, we had no 
 difficulty in finding a priest and an al- 
 tar, and Angela became my wife ; nor 
 did any remembrance of our broken vows 
 come over us, to cloud the first bright- 
 ness of our joys, — out vh'tuotis joys, as
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 243 
 
 v;e presumptuously called them. But 
 thinking Bastia too near Baia, we em- 
 barked on board a vessel bound for the 
 port of Marseilles : even there, I did not 
 think we were safe from the pursuit which 
 I fancied would be made for us ; and with 
 the terrors of the Inquisition before me, I 
 resolved to remove into Switzerland; nor 
 did I allow the soles of our feet to rest 
 till we reached Geneva, where we assum- 
 ed the habit of the country, and called 
 ourselves by the name of Muller. There 
 we remained six months, but not as happy 
 as we had been during the first weeks 
 of our union ; for now would be heard 
 the voice of a reproaching conscience. — 
 Angela, or Madeleine, as she had named 
 herself, sighed to hear tidings of that 
 tender relative whose heart she was cer- 
 tain of having wounded, not only by her 
 desertion but disgrace; and I remem- 
 bered the father, whose gray hairs I 
 M 2
 
 244 LOVE, mysterV, 
 
 might perhaps have brought with sorrow 
 to the grave; fori, who was once his pride, 
 was now become his dishonour. But of 
 these dear relations we had no means of 
 hearing, except at the greatest risk to our- 
 selves ; and we found that short was the 
 existence even of wedded happiness, 
 when obtained by the surrender of the 
 most sacred of duties. 
 
 At this time I had amused myself with 
 improving by study some knowledge of 
 simples and of physic, which I had ac- 
 quired in the convent ; and I had per- 
 formed one or two cures amongst the 
 poor around me. 
 
 One night, the person whom I had 
 last attended came to inform me, that an 
 English servant, who was waiting for his 
 master, an English nobleman expected 
 at Geneva, was taken ill at his house, 
 and he wished me to visit him. I did so; 
 and with a mixed feeling of alarm and
 
 AND SUPERSTITION* 245 
 
 pleasure, I found in the invalid the 
 faithful Donald, who was the foster>bn>- 
 ther of Lord Monrose, and was attached 
 to him with most devoted affection. For 
 a moment, the terror of detection prompt- 
 ed me to leave him to his fate, as he was 
 delirious, and could not as yet recognise 
 me; but humanity conquered selfishness, 
 and I staid. I took care, however, to be 
 alone while I watched the effect of my 
 medicines : and it was well that I did so ; 
 for, when he recovered his senses, he 
 with surprise and joy vociferated my 
 name, adding, *' Oh ! how glad my lord 
 and my lady will be to see you 1 But 
 where is the Lady Angela ? " He was 
 not yet well enough to listen to the ex- 
 planation which he asked for : his deli- 
 rium returned, and for two days and 
 nights Madeleine and I watched beside 
 the bed of this faithful creature. He 
 was scarcely convalescent, when intelli-
 
 246 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 gence came that his lord and lady were 
 arrived, and Madeleine and I retreated 
 precipitately to our own house, there to 
 await the result of Donald's communi- 
 cation repecting us. When he came, he 
 came not alone, and Madeleine was press- 
 ed with forgiving tenderness to the bosom 
 of her sister. Not such was the recep- 
 tion which I received from the high- 
 principled Caledonian. He rebuked me 
 as the seducer of innocence, and my con- 
 scious heart shrunk from the awful se- 
 verity of offended virtue. But never can 
 I forget the vehemence with which Ma- 
 deleine repelled this charge against me. 
 " He my seducer, my lord! Rather say I 
 was his; for I have long been convinced 
 that I loved him even before I saw him." 
 Even he shuddered at the thought of 
 our being discovered. However, not be- 
 lieving us safe on that side of the Ger- 
 man Ocean, he advised our flying instant-
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 247 
 
 ly to Aberdeen, near which port his estate 
 was situated, and hiring a cottage in the 
 neighbourhood, that his nearly heart- 
 broken wife might sometimes see her un- 
 happy sister. He gave us also bills of 
 exchange on his agent at Paris for our 
 cumbrous specie, and thus facilitated to 
 us the means of travelling. 
 
 He told us, that when our flight could 
 no longer be concealed, and the circum- 
 stances were known at our respective con- 
 vents, the consternation was great in pro- 
 portion to our great reputation for sanc- 
 tity ; and in the same degree that we had 
 been considered an honour to our order, was 
 the disgrace which we had brought upon 
 it. This disgrace, however, it was pos- 
 sible to avoid; and the superiors resolved 
 to give out to the world, that I had died, 
 after my return from Baia, of a rapid de- 
 cline, and that Angela had sunk a victim 
 to her rigid fasts and penances. They
 
 248 LOVE^ MYSTERY, 
 
 also solemnized our funeral obsequies 
 with due solemnity. 
 
 *' Would to God," said Monrose, 
 " that we could have been deceived like 
 tfie rest of the world! Would to God 
 that we could have believed you had 
 died holy and virtuous ! But we could 
 not long flatter ourselves, as we at first 
 did, that you were gone on some holy 
 pilgrimage, or mission, and had perished 
 in it ; for the boat-men who rowed you 
 to Bastia talked of the great reward which 
 they had received for rowing two young 
 peasants (and on the very night on which 
 you were missing), who looked more like 
 a king and queen than what their dress 
 bespoke them to be." 
 
 " But if," cried I after a long pause, 
 " we are supposed dead, what danger 
 have we to apprehend from the pursuit 
 of the Inquisition ? " 
 
 •'Every danger, if you remain wheixits
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 249 
 
 power can reach you. Have they not to 
 punish sinners, if they cannot reclaim 
 them ? Believe me, you will be most se- 
 cure in England or Scotland; and I con- 
 jure you to set off directly. But even 
 there, you must be on your guard while 
 living on the coast ; for Madeleine might 
 easily be ensnared and seized, if you were 
 traced to Aberdeen, and carried off un- 
 known to the Government, to a vessel 
 stationed for the purpose." 
 
 " True, true," I exclaimed in an agony 
 of apprehension, of apprehension the ex- 
 tent of which I would not reveal ; for I 
 feared that xio\.\yj violence, but by jo^r- 
 suasion, my beloved wife might be taken 
 from me, and that she might be pre- 
 vailed upon, by secret agents from Fer- 
 rara, to leave me, and return a volun- 
 tary victim to her cloister. Impelled 
 by this hoiTible apprehension, I would 
 have fled with her, had it been pos- 
 M 5
 
 250 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 sible, to the end of the earth. No longer 
 therefore did I hesitate; and;, after a 
 mournful farewell between the sisters, 
 we proceeded to Boulogne, and thence 
 embarked for Aberdeen. Never, never 
 did we behold the angehc face of Sera- 
 phina again ! But we have seen one like 
 it, as you yourselves will say, if you exa- 
 mine the picture which Madeleine al- 
 ways wore in her bosom ; for Seraphina 
 was a tall Lady Barbara ; and when I 
 told you that I thought she was Made- 
 leine's guardian angel made visible to my 
 sight, her likeness to Seraphina favoured 
 the illusion. Seraphina was totally dif- 
 ferent to Italian women ; for her hair and 
 eyes were light, and this singularity she 
 inherited from her grand- mother, who 
 was a noble Scotch v^oman. 
 
 But to proceed with my narrative. 
 Scarcely were we sailed, when a violent 
 storm arose ; and for several hours, no-
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 251 
 
 thing but different modifications of de- 
 spair were visible or audible around us. 
 But oh ! the horror of that moment to 
 us ! to us, who with yet unrepented 
 crimes upon our heads were about to be 
 hurled, as we feared, into the presence of a 
 just and omnipotent Judge ! Never can 
 I forget the moment when, holding the 
 fainting Madeleine in my arms, I was 
 about to vow unto that power whom I 
 had offended, that if he would but spare 
 our forfeited lives, we would break those 
 ties which we had sinned in forming. — 
 But at that moment the storm abated, 
 and we landed at Aberdeen in safety. 
 
 Great, however, as were our joy and 
 thankfulness, they could not equal the 
 agony which we had endured, nor enable 
 us quickly to forget it. Mine ** was con- 
 tinually before me," and it had far ex- 
 ceeded that of Madeleine — nor dared I 
 disclose it to her ; for I knew that she
 
 252 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 would shudder to think of the vow which 
 had so nearly escaped my lips, and which 
 I could not recall without horror. 
 
 But soon a new train of delightful 
 hopes took possession of my heart, and 
 banished the gloom which the recollec- 
 tions of the storm had occasioned. 
 
 Madeleine was likely to become a 
 mother; and to increase our comfort, we 
 received letters from Lord and Lady Mon- 
 rose. 
 
 I now, in order to legitimate my child 
 as much as possible, procured a license, 
 and we were married according to the rites 
 of the Protestant church. Our comfort, 
 however, was not of long duration. 
 
 Alas ! one night a ship was heard to 
 fire signals of distress ; and on hastening 
 to the shore, 1 saw a vessel seemingly on 
 the point of perishing in the storm ! 
 
 With what eagerness did I join in the 
 means taken to succour the distressed
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 253 
 
 people ! With what alacrity did I, at 
 some risk to myself, enter the boat sent 
 out to their assistance!' — And we succeed- 
 ed in saving some of the passengers. The 
 crew, most of them^ alas! were swallowed 
 up with the vessel before our eyes. 
 
 But judge of my dismay, when I tell 
 you that in one of them I recognised a 
 monk, an officer of the Inquisition, whom 
 I knew to be my most determined ene- 
 my ; and who was of the same convent as 
 myself ! 
 
 And what could have brought him to 
 Aberdeen ? I could not but suppose that 
 we were the inducement : but if not, still, 
 if he discovered Madeleine and demand- 
 ed to see her, I could not prevent it ; and 
 I feared that his awakening eloquence 
 might lend force to those compunctious 
 visitings inker heart, which were too often 
 difficult to be suppressed in mine. What 
 was to be done ? At present I saw that
 
 254 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 he was too full of his recent danger to be 
 alive to external objects, and had, conse- 
 quently, not yet seen me. 
 
 We were now approaching the shore ; 
 and while the rest waded to land, I was 
 left alone in the boat with him. — Easy 
 then would it have been for me to push 
 him into the waves, when he had one leg 
 over the side, and to hold him under them 
 tMl he had ceased to breathe ; for, busy as 
 the rest of the people were in dragging 
 the boat to land, and assisting the half- 
 drowned crew, I could have committed 
 this crime unseen and unsuspected. But 
 I prayed to be delivered from the temp- 
 tation, and I was enabled to resist it. 
 I instantly quitted the spot, and reached 
 my home unperceived by this alarming 
 man. But I felt that there was no time 
 to be lost, and we left Aberdeen. 
 
 When I reached the wide world of Lon- 
 don, I felt once more secure \ and there I
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 255 
 
 should have spent the rest of my days, had 
 I not found that the air disagreed with Ma- 
 deleine: we therefore again bent our faces 
 to the north, but kept far from its shores. 
 But now I had to endure anxiety of 
 another kind: for three long days and 
 three long nights I was doomed almost to 
 witness the agonies of the being on whom 
 my soul doted, to expect that every mo- 
 ment was to her the moment of death, and 
 to anticipate the still more awful moment 
 of judgement to come. All that I thought, 
 all that I felt and feared, I cannot reveal : 
 but then for the first time was my soul 
 awakened to deep and true repentance, 
 and to the necessity of expiation : and I 
 solemnly vowed, prostrate on the earth, 
 that if she might be spared for contrition 
 and amendment, I would break our un- 
 hallowed ties^ and still further punish my- 
 self by never revealing to any one, except 
 when I was on my death-bed, that I had a
 
 256 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 right to the dear name oi father. Having 
 taken this heart-rending oath, I became 
 more composed, and waited the event 
 with something hke resignation. 
 
 The event was a merciful one : Made- 
 leine lived through her agonies ; and the 
 delighted nurse gave a living infant into 
 my arms, which eagerly opened to receive 
 and embrace it : but the next moment 
 remembering my oath^ I imprinted a long 
 kiss on its unconscious brow, and gave it 
 back into the nurse's arms, never, except 
 in life's last hour, to be received into 
 them again. This child was baptized by 
 ■ the name of Rosalie ; and the register of 
 her birth and baptism accompanies the 
 certificate of both our marriages. I need 
 not add, I think, that this child was our 
 dear Rosalie. 
 
 Here Tyrconnel in great agitation in- 
 terrupted his brother, and said, 
 
 " Surely sufficient has now been read
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 257 
 
 of the manuscript to enable its hearers to 
 form a judgement on the point on which 
 my whole happiness depends ? " Still they 
 were silent. 
 
 " Go on," said Lord Bellamore, " with 
 Count Manfredi di Guastalla's narrative." 
 
 Drowning men catch at straws, says 
 the proverb; and Tyrconnel caught a 
 gleam of hope from his father's having 
 given the father of Rosalie his title : and 
 Aubrey continued : 
 
 I shall pass over my first interview 
 with Madeleine, the jcy with which she 
 showed me her child, and her wonder 
 that I refused to nurse it ; and proceed to 
 that awful moment when I had to disclose 
 to the woman whom I adored, and who 
 loved me with all a virtuous woman's 
 ardour, that lue must part, and that I 
 wished her with her child to reside near 
 her sister, while I retired into some mo-
 
 258 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 nastery in France and spent the rest of 
 my life in rigid penance. 
 
 " And this painful proof of love," she 
 cried, but with a calmness that astonished 
 me, ** was wrung from you, my beloved, 
 in a moment of agony. — Believe me, I, 
 in one of perfect self-possession, will give 
 you one more painful, more convincing 
 still : I will propose to you a penance to- 
 morrow, more hard to undergo than any 
 your monostic discipline can teach you." 
 
 The next day, to my great surprise, 
 Madeleine met me at breakfast, where I, 
 with a beating heart, awaited what she 
 had to propose to me. 
 
 '^ Rinaldo/' said she at length,, sum- 
 moning all her fortitude, " have not ab- 
 sence and entire cessation of intercourse 
 been always held up as most calculated 
 to calm the agonies of hopeless paS" 
 sion.P" 
 
 '' Granted."
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 259 
 
 " And can any torments inflicted on 
 the body, equal the tortures hourly in- 
 flicted on the heart?" 
 
 " None." 
 
 " Well then, if you leave me and enter 
 the walls of a cloister, separation, however 
 painful at first, will in time calm the yearn- 
 ings of your affections towards me, and 
 you will become resigned, and perhaps 
 cheerful. Yours then will be no ex- 
 piation, for you will endure no constant 
 struggle, Mark me then ! Do not let us 
 separate! Let us live together, not as 
 brother and as sister only, for brothers 
 and sisters may clasp each other's hand, 
 may assist each other's steps, and by 
 many little offices of kindness prove their 
 mutual regard : but let us, my beloved, 
 live wholly as the coldest and most distant 
 strangers would live together. Let no 
 fond epithet be used by either of us ; and 
 aftei* this day let us glide along the path
 
 260 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 of life like ghosts, to each other visible, 
 but intangible, for ever! You have sworn 
 never to caress or own your child, except 
 in the hour of death. — I will make the 
 same vow, and oh ! to fulfil it will rend a 
 mother's heart far more than a father's. 
 Stili, when she is old enough to feel and ; 
 to return caresses, from that moment, i 
 most interesting to the parental heart, I 
 will solemnly swear, in expiation of my 
 offences, never to caress her nor call her 
 child till I am on my death-bed. Rinaldo, 
 the fulfilment of va^ first vow depends on 
 you. Can you consent to live with me 
 on those terms ? or must we cease not 
 only to love, if that he possible, but also 
 to live together ?" 
 
 I hesitated to decide ; for terrible ap- 
 peared the probation and the penance. 
 At last, after a few hours of conflict and 
 earnest prayer, — for I was no longer con- 
 fident in my own strength, — I ventured to
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 261 
 
 tell her that I approved of all she had 
 proposed. And then we both of us, after 
 humbling ourselves before the throne of 
 mercy, besought its blessing on our task, 
 and took the trying vow. 
 
 *' Trying indeed !" said Aubrey. 
 
 ^* And cruel and unnatural!" cried 
 Lady Barbara. " What ! deprive them- 
 selves of the indulgence of a parent's feel- 
 ings, those purest and sweetest of feel- 
 ings ! They were great sinners, and they 
 had a right to punish themselves, but not 
 to punish their innocent child ! " 
 
 " I wonder," said Aubrey, " they lived 
 so long under such trials ; not that they 
 sunk under them so soon." 
 
 " Do go on, Aubrey," cried Tyrconnel 
 rather pettishly : and he obeyed. 
 
 Yes, Tyrconnel, yes, we took that 
 painful oath ; and, by the aid of Heaven,
 
 262 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 we never can be said to have infringed 
 it. 
 
 Once, when I was taken up apparently 
 dead from a fall, poor Madeleine, as she 
 wept over me, tried to revive me by the 
 tenderest endearments ; but, on recover- 
 ing my senses, she shrunk from my re- 
 proaching look, and hurried from me 
 with horror and self-abasement. In ex- 
 piation of this involuntary offence it was 
 that she resolved to go on that fortunate 
 pilgrimage to the shrine of the Blessed 
 Virgin, which led her to the hospitable 
 kindness of Lady Barbara Delmaync. 
 
 But she previously inflicted on herself 
 severe self-punishment of another kind ; 
 and the ?narks of this being perceived by 
 the housekeeper, as she informed me, 
 gave rise to her singular manner towards 
 her, and to the uncalled-for visit of Father 
 Vincent to her chamber. 
 But let me confess to you, what Made-
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 263 
 
 leine herself owned in our last conver- 
 sation, how utterly we deceived ourselves 
 in resolving to remain together on such 
 hard conditions, and by the belief that we 
 should thus perform the severest of pe- 
 nances. The truth was, that to us the 
 
 GREATEST OF ALL TRIALS, and of all pe- 
 
 nanceSy was the idea of separation ; an4 
 any trial was welcome, save that of ceasing 
 to see and to hear each other. This I 
 am convinced was the truth, so deceitful 
 above every thing is the human heart ! 
 And well do I remember, that when as- 
 sured I should not be forced to leave her, 
 I became comparatively tranquil, nay, 
 comparatively happy. But, though hap- 
 pier than I deserved or meant to be, He 
 who reads the heart knows that in this 
 instance we both were innocent of inten- 
 tional deceit ; therefore I do not regret 
 the mitigated suffering which this self- 
 deception occasioned.
 
 !i!64 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 But to return to the point whence 1 
 have digressed. 
 
 These vows which we have described 
 will account for my strange coldness 
 towards the dear sufferer, which I sav/ 
 astonished and even displeased Lady Barr 
 bara.— I dare say she remembers the tone 
 in which, when I toldO'Carrol and Donald 
 to carry Madeleine to the carriage, she 
 exclaimed, 
 
 " Had you not better carry her your- 
 self?" 
 
 And she must also remember how sur- 
 prised she looked at my not approaching 
 Madeleine when I first saw her after her 
 escape from death. 
 
 (" Oh yes ! I shall never forget how 
 strange I thought it !" ) 
 
 You too, Tyrconnel, reproached me 
 with your looks for not assisting her when 
 she fainted. But one of the greatest 
 pangs which we either of us felt was caused
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 2(35 
 
 by our discovering the effects of our pain- 
 ful reserve upon our darling child. 
 
 But this was not of long continuance; 
 for, deprived of recollection and self- 
 command by her danger, both Madeleine 
 and I called her by the name of our dear 
 child, our beloved daughter : and Rosalie 
 understood the deep yearnings of our 
 hearts. She saw, and sickened at the 
 sight; for, if she was our child, she feared 
 she must also be the child of shame ; 
 and thence arose that bitter dejection for 
 which we alone knew how to account. 
 On her death-bed Madeleine reassured 
 Rosalie upon this subject, and a change 
 in her was instantly visible. 
 
 I have little to add, save that unalarm- 
 ed we remained near fourteen years at 
 Green val ; where, as I meant to educate 
 Rosalie fpr the world and for retirement 
 also, I made her mistress of Italian and 
 French, and provided her other accom- 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 LOVE, MYSTERYj 
 
 plishments. But though, owing to the ex-' 
 treme loneliness of our abode, we had no 
 more fears of being found out, we th^re 
 received information of an event Whi^^ 
 Madeleine, I believe, never recovered* 4)l( 
 •itiWe- had not been above two year* ati 
 Greenval, when Madeleine grew uneasy 
 concerning her sister ; I therefore hired a 
 peasant in the neighbourhood to go to 
 the Castle of Monrose, and he returned 
 wjth the "jsad intelligence that both the 
 Earl and Countess were no more> ;^ 
 
 It was months before Madeleine held 
 lip her head after this terrible blow*' She 
 was always repeating "No letter! no fare- 
 well! no notice iron) either of them ! " At 
 length I convinced her that, while hiding 
 ourselves so completely from o^r foes, 
 we had hidden ourselves As completely 
 from our friends* 
 
 ^ I come now to the memorable night 
 ivhen Madeleine went on her pilgrim- 
 
 ov
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 267 
 
 age* It was without my knowledge. I 
 was asleep, unconscious of her danger, 
 when a loud knock at the gate before 
 day-break roused and alarmed me. It 
 was Donald. From him I learnt that a 
 print of me was hanging up in the chamber 
 of Father Vincent, ihe priest, an officious 
 prying man, and ^ great zealot; and that 
 should he suspect that I and Father Fran- 
 cesco were the same person, he would 
 not rest till he found out the truth; which 
 he would certainly do by application to 
 a brother- of his, who was also brother to 
 one of the Benedictines at Rome ; and I 
 could not in the end fail of being discover- 
 ed. We therefore resolved that I should 
 remove that very night, to avoid all risk of 
 having my face scrutinized by the priest ; 
 and Donald advised us, as I told you be- 
 fore, to settle in the Isle of Wight. 
 
 The faithful creature I found was re- 
 solved to follow our fortunes— having on
 
 2(38 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 her death-bed promised his beloved mis- 
 tress, if he could ever discover her sister, 
 that he would never desert her. 
 
 I also found that Seraphina bequeath- 
 ed her u^hole property, at her lord's de- 
 sire, to Madeleine; that Monrose, feeling 
 his death near, and not knowing where 
 to find us, as we had so suddenly left 
 Aberdeen, had gone in person to his 
 agent's in London, and there deposited 
 the fortune left to Madeleine — taking 
 Donald with him ; and the agent, or his 
 heirs, or executors, were to keep that 
 money in trust, and never let any part of 
 it be touched, except Donald Cameron 
 brought an order for such a payment, or 
 sent a person accredited to receive it by 
 the said Donald Cameron. 
 
 Not long afterward Lord Monrose 
 breathed his last at his house in London, 
 having left a considerable bequest to the 
 niece of his Seraphina ; and Donald, hav"
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 209 
 
 Ing long vainly sought us, entered into 
 the service of Lord Delmayne. 
 
 You know the rest. I came and bore 
 away Madeleine and Rosalie, escorted by 
 Donald, to this retreat; and as I wished to 
 restore the chapel to its former beauty,. I 
 sent Donald to claim some part of Made- 
 leine's legacy, which in eighteen years 
 had accumulated to a large amount. 
 
 But though obliged to give up the 
 pleasure of seeing Lady Barbara, her 
 image pursued me every where. *' If she 
 resembles the lost Seraphina so strongly 
 in countenance," we used to say to each 
 other, *' surely she must resemble her 
 also in mind; and that benevolent smile^ 
 and those courteous manners, must be 
 the result of genuine kindness of nature." 
 We therefore resolved to bequeath our 
 Rosalie to her pity and protection. 
 
 Yes, dearest Lady Barbara, in the 
 cheerless night of our desponding souls.
 
 270 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 anxious for the fate of our only trea- 
 sure, your image beamed brightly upon 
 as like the light from some building at 
 a distance, which cheers the weary \^ tra- 
 veller on his journey. ^>^o 
 
 More than protection, however we 
 might wish it, we did not dare to hope— 
 nor dare I now. And yet, listen, ye 
 happy parents of noble youths ! listen, ye 
 who are high in rank and rich in worldly 
 prosperity, to the representation of one 
 in birth at least your equals and once as 
 richly gifted v/ith every thing that can 
 call forth the glow of pride in man ! 
 
 He is now on his bed of death ! There 
 he has learnt the emptiness of all worldly 
 grandeur, and of all distinctions save those 
 of virtue and piety! 
 
 Rosalie is pious ; Rosalie is pure. But 
 then I own she is the child of parents wha 
 committed great sin before they could 
 be the authors of her being ; and I should
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 2/1 
 
 not wonder if dread of the world's scorn 
 on such an alliance deter you from ap- 
 proving it. 
 
 But why must the world know that 
 Rosalie, Countess Manfredi de Guas- 
 talla, U the child of Sister Angela and 
 of Father Francesco? 
 
 No : if it be your will, the stone which 
 covers my mouldering remains and those 
 of the partner of my error may also hide 
 our sorrow, our shame, our names, and 
 our penitence. ' ' 
 
 When this sad narrative shall be 
 known to you, I probably shall be on 
 the point of appearing before my final 
 Judge! •y^:^'*^Xh'-:\ 
 
 Short and few have been my hour» of 
 happiness on earth : but you, Lord'Bel- 
 lamore, may, if you choose it, bestow on 
 my expiring moments a happiness de- 
 nied me throughout a painful life. Give
 
 '272 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 my daughter to your son, and let nie go 
 my way rejoicing ! 
 
 RiSALDo, Count Manfredi di 
 
 GUASTALLA. 
 
 ^Vhen Aubrey bad finisb'ed the MS. & 
 j^hort expressive silence ensued. It was 
 brdiven by Lord Delmayne, who observed, 
 that certainly no one need know who 
 Kosalie'g parents were ; and that if they 
 took her abroad with them, and Lord and 
 J^dy Bellamore followed them with Tyr- 
 connel, he might return to England, bring- 
 ing with him a rich and noble Italian 
 bride ; and what more need transpire ? 
 
 **But we should know more ourselves," 
 said Lord Bellamore. 
 
 ** Yes," said Lady Delmayne, " and 
 we should also know that she was the 
 child of wicked people." 
 
 ** Nay, now, Lady Delmayne, you are 
 very severe," said Lord Bellamore,
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 2/3 
 
 " And very unjust too," cried her lord, 
 whose heart had been softened toward 
 the dying man by the love and admira- 
 tion which he had testified toward Lady 
 Barbara. *' And really I must say — " 
 
 " Remember, Oh ! remember," cried 
 Lady Barbara, starting up with a look of 
 terror, " that while you are deliberating, 
 poor Manfredi is dying, and may die per- 
 haps without ever having known one mo- 
 ment's real happiness. Think of that, you 
 happy ^ happy people ! " 
 
 " Dear father, must he die unblest ?" 
 cried Aubrey. 
 
 Tyrconnel did not speak ; but he threw 
 himself on his father's neck and wept. 
 
 ** My lord and father, hear us," cried 
 Lady Barbara, falling at Lord Bella- 
 more's feet, while Aubrey clasped his 
 arm round his kneeling wife, and sunk 
 beside her. Lady Delmayne spoke not* 
 n5
 
 274 LOVE, MYSTERY, 
 
 Her lord too was silent ; for, though his 
 heart was with the pleaders, he felt that 
 Lord Bellamore ought to be left to the 
 influence of his children alone. "''^^ 
 
 '^ Hark ! " cried Lady Barbara, " there 
 is a noise in the room above; perhaps he 
 is dying ! " and Tyrconnel looked up im- 
 ploringly in the face of Lord Bellamore. 
 
 " What says your mother, Tyrconnel.^" 
 
 Tyrconnel clasped her knees in si- 
 lence. 
 
 " Say! That she wishes her son happy, 
 to be sure," she replied : and while Tyr- 
 connel folded her in his arms, Lord Bel- 
 lamore in a faltering voice added, " Then 
 the Countess Rosalie shall be TyrconneFs 
 -wife!" 
 
 *^ Blessed hearing ! " cried Lady Bar- 
 bara, flying through the door; and in 
 an instant she was at the bed-side of the 
 dying Manfredi.
 
 AND SUPERSTITION. 27o 
 
 " Angelic being! " cried he, " I see you 
 bring me joy !" 
 
 " Yes," cried she, grasping his chill 
 cold hand : '' he consents." 
 
 At this moment Lord Bellamore lean- 
 ing on his son, and followed by the whole 
 group, entered the room. Manfredi 
 with eager eyes gazed on what was pass- 
 ing. Lord Bellamore, too full at heart 
 to speak, then took the hand of Rosalie, 
 and placed it silently in that of Tyrcon- 
 nel. The action spoke for him ; but re- 
 covering his firmness, he laid a hand on 
 the head of each, as they kneeled before 
 him, and faltered out *^ My children ! 
 God bless you together ! " 
 
 " Enough ! " murmured out Manfredi: 
 " I thank you, and I die happy." 
 
 Rosalie now sprung forward to catch 
 his last parting look. It was hers, and 
 his lips moved as if he blessed her. The
 
 276 LOVE, MYSTERY, ETC. 
 
 next moment the movement was gone. 
 He pressed his crucifix to his heart, and 
 he lay in the stillness ?^nd silence of 
 Death.
 
 AFTER THE BALL; 
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 
 
 The family of Sir John Wallington, a 
 Yorkshire baronet, consisting of Lady 
 \\'allington, a son, two daughters, and a 
 niece (the daughter of an elder brother), 
 were preparing one evening for a public 
 ball in their neighbourhood,with great but 
 varied expectations of pleasure. 
 
 The anticipations of Lady Wallington 
 would have been the most enviable, had 
 not the prospect of seeing the admiration 
 which her daughters would excite been 
 sullied by the hope of witnessing the mor- 
 tification of those mothers v/hose daugh- 
 ters were contending the palm of beauty
 
 278 AFTER THE BALL ; OK, 
 
 with her own : while Miss Wallington 
 and her sister Laura were too conscious 
 of their personal charms, and too desirous 
 of having the best partners in the rooniU 
 to experience any feelings dear to the 
 heart of benevolence. 
 
 Their brother, perhaps, was actuated 
 by a more amiable selfishness ; for he ex- 
 pected to meet his old college friend. Sir 
 William Dormer, who had lately suc- 
 ceeded to an estate in the neighbourhood, 
 and who was a desirable match for one 
 of his sisters. He also hoped to meet 
 there another friend. Sir William Ma- 
 berley, who, though not possessed of so 
 large a property, might, he thought, 
 suit the other sister. He therefore an- 
 ticipated valuable additions to his do- 
 mestic circle, and his head was full of 
 family aggrandizement. Besides, Major 
 Wallington had also views for himself: 
 Sir William Dormer had a sister, who
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 2/9 
 
 lived with him, and who had inherited an 
 immense fortune from her grandfather ; 
 and she was to make her first appearance 
 that evening, previously to presiding at a 
 ball which her brother and herself were 
 to give the ensuing week, and to which 
 they had already invited those who had 
 paid their respects at Park Place. 
 
 But neither the sister nor the brother 
 was as yet personally known to any one 
 in the county, except Major Walling- 
 ton. He therefore thought, and on good 
 grounds, that an immediate introduction 
 to his own family would be a desirable 
 thing to these young strangers. His 
 cousin Caroline had also her anticipa- 
 tions ; but they were of a more humble 
 nature. She felt that in the presence of 
 Anne and Laura she was not likely to be 
 noticed : still, however, she was eager to 
 see the two young men who might be, as 
 she was told, her future relations ; and
 
 280 AFTER THE BALL ; OR, 
 
 she was even more desirous to see Miss 
 Dormer, as she had heard much of her 
 amiable quahties, and fancied she might 
 find in her a companion better suited to 
 her retiring nature than the showy and 
 flattered Miss Walhngtons. 
 
 The coach was now ordered round; and 
 the Major had taken his mother's hand to 
 lead her down stairs, when he received 
 letters by express from his commanding 
 officer, which compelled his immediate 
 departure. He promised, however, to 
 return as soon as he could ; and teUing 
 them they must introduce themselves to 
 his friend Maberley, for whom he should 
 order a bed, and who would, he trusted^ 
 attend them home, he bade them fare- 
 well. 
 
 When the ladies reached the ball-room, 
 they found, that though Miss Dormer 
 was there, neither of the Baronets had 
 arrived.
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 281 
 
 However^ respectable partners offered 
 immediately for the three young ladies, 
 and they joined the set ; but Miss Wal- 
 lington, who had always been used to be- 
 £in the dance in that room, could hardly 
 see with complacence Miss Dormer, as 
 the daughter of the elder Baronet, taking 
 the lead. 
 
 This ball in other respects had nothing 
 in it to distinguish it from former Ijalls; 
 but the Miss AValUngtons found it dif- 
 ferent from what their high-raised expec- 
 tations had anticipated. In the ftrst place, 
 neither their brother nor his two friends 
 were there : in the next, Miss Dormer 
 did not desire to be introduced to them ; 
 and a feeling of pique mude them for 
 once not willing to put themselves for- 
 waid, and request to be presented to her. 
 Thirdly, they saw, that though not present- 
 ed, Caroline had already formed an ac* 
 quaintance with the heiress, and that it was
 
 282 AFTER THE BALL ; OR, 
 
 evident she was prepossessed in their cou- 
 sin's favour, as she made her a distinguish- 
 ing curtsey on leaving the room. They 
 were, howrever, made some amends by 
 the sudden appearance of their brother, 
 though evidently dressed for a journey, 
 just as their carriage was ordered, bring- 
 ing with him his friend the Baronet, 
 whom he was introducing as his friend Sir 
 WilUam — when he was suddenly called 
 away, and could only add, " I am very 
 sorry that I am forced to leave you, Sir 
 William ; but I am sure my mother and 
 sisters will be proud to do all they can to 
 entertain you, and they expect you to ac- 
 company them home." 
 
 The Baronet bowed — Lady Walling- 
 ton smiled and curtsied, as did her daugh- 
 ters ; and the former saying that her car- 
 riage was at the door, Sir William, after 
 placing them in it, took his station, iiV 
 spite of all entreaties, on the coach-box,
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 283 
 
 leaving the ladies at liberty to comment 
 on his person and manner, and to won- 
 der whether Sir William Dormer was as 
 handsome as this their new guest, Sir 
 William Maberley. 
 
 When they reached Old Hall, Lady 
 Wallington s first inquiry was for Sir 
 John ; but he was just gone to bed. 
 
 ^' Then he can't be asleep," murmured 
 Lady Wallington ; and she hastened to 
 his bedside to tell him Sir William Ma* 
 berley was below, and he must rise to do 
 the honours of Old Hall to him. 
 " And pray what for ?" 
 *^ Why because he is James's friend, — 
 and, — and for your daughters' sake, as it 
 may be a good thing for them, you know.'* 
 ** But a very bad thing for me to get 
 up with the gout in my great toe : there- 
 fore, for my own sake, I shall stay where 
 I am ; and I will not get up for all the
 
 284 AFTER THE ball; OR, 
 
 Sir Williams, and all the daughterb in the 
 world." 
 
 " Selfish ahd self-witted as usual," 
 muttered Lady Wallington as she left 
 the chamber, throwing the door to ra- 
 ther loudly considering her husband's 
 gout: and when she entered the din- 
 ing-room, where a handsome supper had 
 been prepared, she assured Sir William, 
 that, but for a Yitry bad lit of the gout, 
 Sh" John would have risen to welcome 
 him to Old Hall, and that he desired her 
 to assure her guest, he was au dlsespoir 
 not to be able to enjoy his society.'* 
 
 The young Baronet, who was by no 
 means a man of words, and from a sort 
 of mauvaise hoiite^ only too common to 
 Englishmen, was never quite at ease with 
 strangers, only bowed in return ; and the 
 party sat down to supper. 
 
 It was now increased by the presence
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 28o 
 
 of a lady whom Miss ^A^allington had 
 graciously gone to summon, and now 
 as graciously supported on her arm into 
 the room ; for youth and beauty appeared, 
 she well knew, to great advantage while 
 lending their aid to infirmity. 
 
 This lady, on being introduced to Sir 
 William by the name of Mrs. Norman, 
 took care to call his attention to this tri- 
 fling piece of benevolence, by observing, 
 
 ** My sweet young friend's angelic at- 
 tention makes me not feel my lameness;" 
 while the sweet young friend seated her 
 by herself, and, patting her on the shoul- 
 der, insisted on her making a good sup- 
 per, as she had been so foolish as to sit 
 up on purpose to hear all about the ball. 
 
 " Well, but you have told me nothing 
 yet." 
 
 *^ No, nor can, till I have supped. Sir 
 William, be so good as to help me to a 
 leg of that chicken."
 
 286 AFTER THE BALL ; aR, 
 
 He obeyed. In the mean while the 
 lame lady was still questioning Miss Wal- 
 lington, and whether she and her sister 
 had made any netv conquests, 
 
 " Nonsense!" cried both the young 
 ladies at once; but Mrs. Norman, who 
 knew such questions were usually wel- 
 come, had not tact enough to feel that 
 they might be ill-timed in the presence of 
 a stranger ; and she still went on with^ 
 -jiff Well ! and was the handsome young 
 fcaronet Sir William Dormer there ?" >. 
 *' No ; he was not," petulantly returned 
 Miss Wallington, while the handsome 
 young baronet who was present looked 
 up with a strong expression of astonish- 
 ment ; but he said nothing, and Miss 
 Wallington feared that he was shocked 
 at the petulance with which she had 
 replied. 
 
 " Well, my Lady, and how did you 
 like the ball ?" resumed the impracticable
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 287 
 
 Mrs. Norman. ** But no doubt you liked 
 it, and, as usual, felt yourself the most 
 favoured of mothers ?" 
 
 Lady Wallington smiled complacently, 
 and said, " Yes, I felt that I was a fortu- 
 nate mother; but there were others as 
 much so. The Miss Selvyns looked 
 lovely to-night, only they were comme de 
 coutume\ over-dressed. Their mother, 
 though she has long been a private gen- 
 tleman's wife, can't forget she was once 
 on the stage; and she loads them and 
 herself with such trumpery finery !" 
 
 " Aye, she does indeed; but you are 
 too candid ; the Selvyns c^ti't look lovely." 
 .' *' Oh! Mamma quite patronizes their 
 beauty, you know, Mrs. Ndrman ; and I 
 am sure it needs patronage. To-night 
 these lovely creatures looked as red as 
 red-cabbage, and red-cabbage dipped in 
 oil too." 
 
 u
 
 288 AFTER THE BALL ; oi^; 
 
 *' O you clever creature ! that was sd 
 like you!" 
 
 Miss Wallington, gratified by th\i 
 praise of her wit, and fancying it would 
 add to the piquancy of her beauty, went 
 on with her observations. 
 
 " Yes, Mamma is so over candid. — 
 There was Mrs. O'Connor sprawling 
 about her large limbs in a quadrille, and 
 Mamma looking on and asking me if I 
 did not think the handsome widow im- 
 proved in her dancing ! " 
 
 " Well, indeed, / thought she was," 
 said Caroline Wallington with a timid 
 manner and a blushing cheek. 
 
 " Aye, and so did I," said Miss Laura. 
 
 " There, Anne ; it is three to one 
 against you,^' observed Lady Walling- 
 ton. 
 
 " No matter : I may be out-voted, but 
 not convinced. All I can own is, that
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 289 
 
 Mrs. O'Connor's foot has now diplan to 
 pursue, since she took lessons in town ; 
 find before it was * a might?/ maze, and 
 ^quiie ivithout a plan; and as this foot 
 kicked in all directions, she ought in 
 common humanity to have cried out ta 
 those nearest her, *Gare toes, gare toes !'" 
 This lively sally, which she thought 
 witty, drew forth smiles from Lady Wal- 
 lington and her complaisant friend. But 
 Miss Laura said^ " You are ahvays so se- 
 vere, Anne !" and Caroline looked very 
 grave, while she observed, " How hand- 
 some Mrs. O'Connor is, even now /" 
 
 ** She would not thank you for that 
 compliment, with the ^even now'' tacked 
 to it ; but you think every body hand 
 some, Caroline. I really do believe, — don't 
 blush, — that you think yourself ^o^ 
 
 " No indeed, cousin Anne, that I do 
 not,** replied the poor girl, covered with 
 the most becoming blushes ; ** and I am 
 
 VOL. I, o
 
 290 AFTER THE BALL * OR, 
 
 sure you do not think I ever did ; and 
 you only say it to — " 
 
 " To what ? " cried Anne, rising and hid- 
 ing her anger at the iinuttered word un- 
 der a smile, while she threw her beautiful 
 arms gracefully round her agitated cousin, 
 and kissed her cheek with seeming afFec- 
 tion, "What did I do it for, dear Gary ? " 
 
 Caroline had not courage now to say, 
 •* To tease me:" and while Sir William 
 g?«^ed an the exquisite form and grace- 
 ful attitude of Miss Wallington, and 
 saw her caressing manner towards her 
 cousin, he forgot (as she thought he 
 would) the unkind raillery which had 
 produced it. 
 
 Miss Wallington returned to her seat, 
 agreeably conscious that the Baronefs 
 eyes followed her with admiration. 
 
 " Well," now observed the curious 
 Mrs. Norman ; ''^ well, and ,so Sir Wil- 
 liam Dormer, to the disappointment of
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 291 
 
 all the young ladies, was not there after 
 all!" 
 
 " Not to my disappointment, I assure 
 
 /jou," cried Miss Wallington scornfully ; 
 
 ** for I have been told he is very proud, 
 
 reserved, and conceited, and not very 
 
 good-looking." 
 
 *' Dear me, Anne," cried her sister, 
 ^' how changeable you are! It was only 
 to-day that you said you would give any 
 thing to know if he would be at the ball, 
 and whether he liked fair or brown wo- 
 men." 
 
 " Nonsense ! No such ^hing," replied 
 
 Anne, blushing with anger at hearing her 
 
 real sentiments thus exposed before Sir 
 
 William Maberley ; but Laura provok- 
 
 ingly went on to say, *' Yes, it is true^ 
 
 sister ; and you know what you said about 
 
 Miss Dormer's ball, and about opening 
 
 it with her brother." 
 
 Miss Wallington's reply was now pre- 
 o2
 
 292 AFTER THE BALL; OR, 
 
 vented by Sir William's rising suddenly, 
 and saying that it grew late, and he muJ>t 
 go. But it was in vain that he made 
 the attempt ; Anne, with an air and a 
 manner which she had often found irre- 
 sistible, playfully set her back against the 
 door, and looked up in his face with a 
 fascinating smile ; and while Sir William 
 muttered a few unintelligible words, he 
 suffered himself to be persuaded back to 
 his seat : but it was evident that he was 
 not at ease, and that though he, resumed 
 his chair he did not resume his compo- 
 sure. 
 
 ** It is very strange," said Caroline, 
 " that not one of us has yet mentioned 
 the great novelty of the evening, the 
 young heiress. Miss Dormer." 
 
 ** The less that is said of her the better, 
 perhaps," observed Anne, " though it is 
 wrong to jadge of any one at first sight. I 
 own I was terribly disappointed in her..*'
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 203 
 
 *' Indeed!" replied Caroline: " I am 
 sure she quite equalled my expectations, 
 high raised as they were." 
 
 " High raised ! And pray, child," said 
 Lady Wallington, " what could you know 
 of Miss Dormer ? " 
 
 ** Oh ! I know an intimate friend, a 
 school-fellow of hers; and she described 
 her as all that was amiable, and indeed 
 she looks so. Why, is it possible, cousin 
 Anne, that you do not think her face and 
 countenance beautiful ?'' 
 
 " Beautiful ! she is deformed." 
 
 ** Her face is not ; and the defect in her 
 shape I should never have found out, if 
 it had net been pointed out to me." 
 
 <* No ! — • Why, her wretched style of 
 dress called one's attention to it ; it was so 
 showy, and so unbecoming ! " 
 
 ^* I must own it was to 3 rich and 
 splendid to suit my taste," said Caro- 
 line.
 
 294 AFTER THE BALL ; OR, 
 
 '* Or your pocket either, my dear,'' said 
 Lady Waliington : " and Miss Dormer 
 could have no eye^ no taste, to adopt 
 it." 
 
 ^* I dare say, dear aunt," replied Caro* 
 line, " Miss Dormer did not choose her 
 own dress: I suspect that sweet-looking 
 old lady with her chose it for her." 
 
 " And why ?" 
 
 ** Because she seemed so pleased with 
 her appearance, and surveyed her and it 
 with so much delight; and then she 
 stroked it down with such complacence 
 just before Miss Dormer began to dance ; 
 and looking so affectionately and so like 
 a mother at her, I really could not help 
 envying Miss Dormer a friend so like a 
 parent ; and I am told she lives with her, 
 and is quite a mother to her. How de- 
 lightful ! " 
 
 Here the eyes of the warm-hearted 
 ^irl filled with teal's of affectionate re-
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 295 
 
 gret ; for She had not very long been an 
 orphan. But less tender tears succeed- 
 ed, when Lady \ValIington with no very 
 soothing tone exclaimed, " Caroline, you 
 surprise me ! I had flattered myself that 
 you had found an affectionate mother in 
 me, and sisters in your cousins ; and that 
 you of all persons in the world were not 
 likely to envy Miss Dormer or Aliss ajuj 
 one. Really, Caroline, I did not think 
 you had been so ungrateful ! " 
 
 " Ungrateful! II ungrateful!" cried 
 the agitated girl, casting an appealing 
 look at Lady Wallington. Then, un- 
 able to restrain her tears, she left the 
 
 room. 
 
 " I assure you, Sir William," said 
 
 Lady Wallington in the gentlest accents,. 
 
 " that girl, when her father, a most ex- 
 
 travagant man, died, was received into 
 
 our family, to be maintained by us, and
 
 2yt) AFTER THE BALL ; OR, 
 
 has ever been considered and treated as 
 d daughter/' 
 
 " 7''/tat she has," cried Mrs. Norman ; 
 " you may Sdy so indeed." 
 
 *' Nay, I claim no merit for what 1 
 did; it was only our duty. But I am very 
 sorry that I liave hurt the child's feelings. 
 J think, Laura or Anne, you had better 
 go to your cousin." 
 
 ' " Poor dear girl ! I will go, mamma,'* 
 cried Laura, who had the acuteness'to 
 see by Sir William's downcast eye and 
 continued silence, though addressed by 
 hrs hostess, that the scene and the con- 
 fidence reposed displeased him. 
 
 *' Kind, good creature!" exclaimed 
 Airs. Norman. " Well, I^ady Waliington, 
 I have always said you are the happiest 
 of mothers ! " 
 
 When Caroline returned, the traces of 
 recent tears were still visible on her cheek ;
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 29/ 
 
 and they almost began to flow again oh 
 her aunt's kindly taking her hand, and, 
 saying she was a foohsh child tp be so 
 soon overset, told her she must, as a 
 proof of forgiveness, eat the pastry which 
 she offered her. Caroline obeyed her; 
 looking up in her face as she prepared to 
 do so, with so sweet and touching an 
 expression of patient resignation, that 
 Sir William, who caught the look, won- 
 dered he had not observed her sooner, 
 and began to find out, that though Anne 
 and Laura were strikingly handsome, they 
 had not the beauty of countenance which 
 distinguished Caroline. Besides, he pitied 
 her, and he remembered too that she had 
 eulogized and defended Miss Dormer. 
 
 ** By the by, Caroline," said Miss 
 Wallington, " you must explain to me 
 how it happened that you were th^ only 
 one of our party whom the proud heiress 
 deigned to notice. For my part. I thought 
 o 5
 
 298 AFTER THE BALL; OR, 
 
 it her place to desire to be introduced to 
 mey as I saw that she felt herself my su- 
 perior. I dare say she only took her right 
 precedence; but as she was a stranger, and 
 I, you know, usually begin the dance, 
 I thought she might have offered me 
 the place, though I should not have ac- 
 cepted it." 
 
 *' You had no right to accept it, 
 Anne," cried Laura, who was never sorry 
 to mortify her domineering sister. " If 
 Miss Dormer had waved her right at all 
 as the daughter of the elder baronet, it 
 would have been in favour of Caroline^ 
 the child of papa's eldest brother, who 
 ought always to stand above you." 
 
 " Oh dear!" replied the provoked Miss 
 Wallington, " I always forget that Ca- 
 roline has precedence of me ; and I sup- 
 pose from this time forward, as she and 
 Miss Dormer seem to be already tender 
 friends, I must make up my mind to see
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 299 
 
 her pressed into the place of honour at 
 balls." 
 
 " Miss Caroline knows her place better 
 than to accept it, I am sure," observed 
 Mrs. Norman, tossing her head; *' nor 
 can I think but that when Miss Dormer 
 knows you, my sweet young friend, she 
 will be eager to do you every honour 
 in her power. But, perhaps, as she is 
 very young, she might be aived by your 
 dignified manner, and a little fieeling of 
 jealousy might prevent her seeking to 
 know you ; and — " 
 
 " Miss Dormer jealous, madam ! " 
 cried Caroline eagerly : " Oh ! that is 
 quite impossible y 
 
 " Why really the heiress and her smiles 
 have turned thy head, Cary," said Anne, 
 trying to conceal her spleen . " But come, 
 explain how you were introduced." 
 
 "Oh! her waist riband came unpinned
 
 300 AFTER THE BALL ; OR, 
 
 in the dance ; and — and as that sweet- 
 looking old lady was not near her, I of- 
 fered to pin it for her." 
 
 *' Well, for a modest, timid girl, that 
 was tolerably forward, Cary." 
 " Dear ! do you think so ?" 
 " It was very kind,'* said Sir William, 
 breaking for the first time a long silence. 
 ** And what did Miss Dormer say to you ?'* 
 ** She thanked me, and in such a tone 
 of voice, and with such a smile, that I 
 ventured, as I stood near her, to tell her I 
 knew a friend of hers ; and so we talked 
 together the rest of the evening, whenever 
 we had an opportunity." 
 
 ** Quite a romantic friendship, begun 
 at first sight!" cried Miss Wallington : 
 .** I see, Laura, you and I have no chance 
 now of pleasing either the brother or the 
 sister; \i is place prise, and Cary carries 
 all before her."
 
 THE TWO SIR WILUAM5?. 301 
 
 *' Nay, dear Afiss Wallington," said 
 Mrs. Norman, "how can you talk so? 1 
 would lay any wager that Sir William 
 Dormer will begin the ball at his own 
 house with you." 
 
 *' What ! in defiance of Caroline's 
 rights^ on which Laura has been so elo- 
 quent ?" sarcastically answered Miss Wal- 
 lington. *' Cary," she contin ;ed, ** I wish 
 you would as a friend advise Miss Dormer 
 not to dance quadrilles, for hers really is 
 not a figure to exhibit. I own, by padding, 
 her crookedness is as much hidden as pos- 
 sible, and it might possibly pass unnoticed 
 in a country dance, but in a quadrille it 
 must be obvious to all the world." 
 
 *' I conclude you are joking," said Ca- 
 roline blushing : ** I could never presume 
 to wound any one's feelings by such 
 ad\dce ; and after all, where there is 
 so much to admire as there is in Miss 
 Dormer, it would surely be most unkind
 
 302 AFTER THE BALL; OR, 
 
 in the by-standers to remark only her sole 
 defect." iriii*' 
 
 ''Unkind! Was that aimed atf^n^, 
 madam ?" vhf. I 
 
 ^ ^' Oh dear ! No ; it was a general ob- 
 servation," 
 
 " Pray," said Mrs. Norman, seeing 
 the cloud gathering on the brow of the 
 haughty Anne, " do tell me who this 
 Miss Dormer is like. Can you. Miss 
 Caroline, describe your idol ; or did her 
 effulgence bhnd you too much ? " 
 
 *' Really, madam, I cannot say whom 
 she is like." 
 
 *' She is like you," said Sir William, 
 smiling with great complacency on Ca- 
 roline : " I never saw two countenances 
 more alike." 
 
 ** Like her !" exclaimed Mrs. Norman : 
 ** Why, I thought some one said she was 
 handsome." 
 
 *' So she is, madam, in my eyes," ^e-
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 60, J 
 
 turned Sir William coldly. Caroline 
 blushed with surprise and pleasure; while 
 the sisters bit their lips. 
 
 Lady Wallington at length, after hem- 
 ming to get rid of an involuntary hoarse- 
 ness, remarked, " You know Miss Dor- 
 mer then ? " 
 
 " Perfectly, madam." 
 
 " Perhaps you will be at her ball .^" 
 
 " Certainly/' he replied smiling ; *' for — 
 and — and — " Here some strange em- 
 barrassment broke off his speech ; and, 
 looking at his watch, he suddenly rose, 
 declared it was very late, and^ hastily bow- 
 ing, prepared to depart. 
 
 '• Oh no, indeed ! you must not leave 
 us yet," cried Lady Wallington ; " per- 
 haps you are musical. Sir William.^ — 
 Anne and Laura, perhaps Sir William 
 would like to hear a duet "^ " Sir William 
 declared he should be delighted; and Ca-
 
 304 AFTER THE BAX>l; OH, 
 
 roline sat down to accompany her Cou- 
 sins, who sung a duet. 
 
 The sisters sung admh'ably ; and Ca- 
 roHnfe, in Sir William's opinion, accom- 
 panied admirably ; but her cousins found 
 fault with her, and the poor girl humbly 
 asked their pardon. 
 
 Anne now challenged Sir William to 
 dance a reel of three, and he accepted the 
 challenge; while Caroline continued at 
 the instrument. The reel over, the grace- 
 ful sisters, preparing for a waltz, desired 
 Caroline to play slowly and as well as she 
 could. She did so ; and Sir William 
 surveyed with admiration their fine fi- 
 gures and graceful motions ; but Caro- 
 line, whose whole soul was in the be- 
 witching air, and whose countenance, as 
 she gazed on her cousins, expressed the 
 generous pleasure with which she beheld 
 their excellence, did more than share his
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 305 
 
 admiration with the dancers, till, much to 
 their surprise and hers, he moved to the 
 side of the instrument and cried '* Bravo! 
 bravo ! " to her expressive playing. 
 
 This was the signal for the sisters 
 to leave off waltzing ; they hoped, how- 
 ever, that Sir William would offer to' 
 waltz with them, and give them an op- 
 portunity to show their sense of propriety 
 by assuring him they only waltzed lulth 
 each other: but he was hanging over Ca- 
 roline's chau', and begging her to indulge 
 him with that waltz again. She obeyed, 
 but with a tremulous hand and a bewil- 
 dered mind ; for she was confused by 
 such gratifying and unusual approbation, 
 and observed her severely -judging rela- 
 tions with sarcastic smiles watching her 
 execution, till at last she was forced to 
 declare her inr.bility to go on, — begging 
 her cousins, who were so much more 
 able, would take her place. Anne did so,
 
 306 AFTER THE BALL; OR, 
 
 and played what she called a voluntary, In 
 a masterly style. '* There ! Sir William," 
 cried Caroline : " that is playing." 
 
 " And so was yours, in a different 
 style." 
 
 He then complimented Anne on her 
 perfect command of the instrument. She 
 then played an adagio and a slow waltz ; 
 but Sir William did not praise the lat- 
 ter, nor encore it as he had done Ca- 
 roline's. 
 
 Caroline now entreated her cousin 
 Laura to sing her favourite song. " I 
 will," she replied, *^ if you will aceom^ 
 pany me, and promise not to blunder T 
 
 ** I will try," she meekly replied ; and 
 Laura sung as follows : 
 
 SONG. 
 
 "Whene'er the moon in silvei pride 
 Illumes the soft-reflecting tide. 
 And spreads reviving lustre wide. 
 Oh ! then 1 think on thee, Henry.
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 307 
 
 For so upgn my darken 'd view 
 Thy love reviving splendours threw j 
 \M[\[\e life thou badest to shine anew. 
 And smile once more on me^ Henr)\ 
 
 But ah ! when o"er the rolling w^ave 
 I see destructive tempests rave ; 
 While nought can struggling sailors save- 
 Then^ then I think on thee, Henry. 
 
 For now thy heart is mine no more. 
 To me life's cheering light is o'er ; 
 Despair's dark billows round me roar. 
 And thou hast shipwreck'd me, Henry. 
 
 The third verse was to a quick move- 
 ment with a rapid bass, which Carohne 
 executed so well, that Sir WiUiam could 
 not help applauding her ; and when the 
 song was over, Caroline said with great 
 naivete, " Well ! I could never have sup- 
 posed that while Laura was singing, any 
 one would have heard my accompanir 
 ment ! " 
 
 Her cousins were quite as much sur- 
 prised as she was ; and when Sir William
 
 308 AFTER THE BALL; OR, 
 
 next declared that he must go, they did 
 not press him to stay, though Lady Wal~ 
 lington said, " We expected you would 
 sleep here, and a bed is prepared.'* 
 
 " A bed ! Is it possible ? I have but 
 a very little way to go, and I ought to 
 have gone away long since, as my car- 
 riage has been here some time." 
 
 Then, not allowing Lady Wallington 
 time to ring, he darted out of the room, 
 and they heard him drive off. 
 
 *' I could lay any wager, Sir William 
 Maberley is in love with Miss Dormer," 
 cried Laura, as soon as he was gone. 
 
 ** O heavens ! if he is, how he nvr^t 
 bate me ! " said Anne. 
 
 ** And like Caroline! " cried Laura. 
 
 ^' Yes ; and if so, no wonder he thought 
 Caroline by implication handsome. Upon 
 my word, it would mortify ?ne to be 
 thought so by a man evidently so devoid 
 of taste."
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 300 
 
 ** Well said, Conceit ! " cried Laura : 
 *' but you are always so satirical, Anne, 
 and always cut up people so unmerci- 
 fully." 
 
 " With a little of your assistance, my 
 candid sister. If I use the knife, you hold 
 the body." 
 
 " Be quiet, girls," cried Lady Wal- 
 lington : ** You know I can't bear to 
 hear your constant bickerings with each 
 other." 
 
 *' Well, mamma, I did not begin ; 
 Laura attacked me first." 
 
 " I know it." 
 
 " And what did I say, mamma .^ No- 
 thing very severe ; and I am sure it is all 
 true." 
 
 ** Perhaps so; but — " 
 
 " Perhaps so ! 1 like your saying that, 
 Lady Wallington ; for who is so severe 
 as yourself.'* I am sure, if your daughters 
 are so, they learnt It from yoii^''
 
 310 ATTER THE BALL; OR, 
 
 " Very dutiful, indeed. Miss Wal- 
 lington! But it is my own fault: my 
 indulgence, and the tenderness of my 
 nature, my exquisite maternal feelings, 
 which led me never to deny you any 
 thing, have brought on me this ungrate- 
 ful return." 
 
 " Ungrateful! No, madam, we are 
 not ungrateful!" exclaimed both the sis- 
 ters at once, united now in a common 
 cause. 
 
 " You talk of your exquisite maternal 
 feelings indeed ! " cried one. " Your self- 
 ish feelings you mean," cried the other, 
 " which w ould not let you be at the trou- 
 ble of correcting us. Had you done your 
 duty by us, we should have been grateful. 
 If I am violent in temper, who made me 
 
 ^* If Anne and I quarrel more than sis- 
 ters should, it is owing to your partiality 
 for her when she waS a child, which made
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. oi 1 
 
 n^e dislike her; and which your apparent 
 love for me since I grew up and have been 
 thought as handsome as Anne, has never 
 banished from my memory." 
 
 " As handsome as / am ! " cried Anne, 
 fire flashing in her eyes : " You vain — " 
 
 Here she was interrupted by a violent 
 scream from Lady Wallington, which 
 ended in a fit; and this *' happiest of mo- 
 thers" was carried to bed in strong hys- 
 terics, brought on by the unkindness of 
 her spoiled children. 
 
 Mrs. Norman, the toad-eater of the 
 family, meanwhile, now at least was sin- 
 cere, and gave way to a natural feeling, 
 when she muttered to herself, though 
 loud enough for Caroline to hear, before 
 she followed her screaming friend and 
 the now penitent daughters to Lady Wal- 
 lington s apartment, " What vile tempers 
 they all have ! I am sure no one would 
 live with them who could live any where
 
 312 AFTER THE ball; OR, 
 
 else. Do you not agree with me, Miss 
 Caroline ? " — shrugging up her shoulders, 
 and looking up in Caroline's face with all 
 the contempt which she felt for her ty- 
 rannical relation. 
 
 But she met with no answering glance 
 from the high-principled Caroline ; who, 
 elevating her head with the pride of vir- 
 tuous feeling, replied to her, " I believe 
 you forget, madam, that you are speak- 
 ing to me of my relations, and that I 
 am the object of their bounty." 
 
 So saying, she hastened to her aunt's 
 apartment; and it was Caroline who per- 
 formed a daughter's duty by her, and 
 watched by her bedside. Lady Walling- 
 ton woke after an hour's forgetfulness, 
 and asked, " Who is there ? Is it Anne 
 or Laura ? " 
 
 " No; it is I, dear aunt," replied Ca- 
 roline. 
 
 '* You ! "
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 313 
 
 " Yes ; my cousins were so tired, they 
 were forced to go to bed." 
 " And were not you tired '^ " 
 " Oh ! dear! not in the least." 
 *^ And you did not make me e'//.'" 
 ** Indeed, dear aunt, my cousins were 
 very soriy to go, but they were quite over- 
 powered. They however desired me to 
 call them, if you were ill again." 
 
 " Indeed! Well, that was much for 
 the^n : but it is all my own fault ; and 
 you, Caroline, you, whom — You are a 
 kind, affectionate creature, Caroline, and 
 I will not forget it." 
 
 Here she heaved a deep sigh, and was 
 silent, if not asleep again. 
 
 Caroline sooke the truth when she said 
 she was not tired; for the occurrences of 
 the former part of the evening had exhila- 
 rated her so much, that she was not con- 
 scious of fatigue. In the first place, she 
 had become acquainted with Miss Dor- 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 314 AFTER THE BALL; OR, 
 
 mer, and had evidently been regarded by 
 her with partiality. In the next place, the 
 handsomest and most agreeable-looking 
 man whom she had ever seen had thought 
 her like Miss Dormer, whom she believed 
 beautiful, and he thought handsome. 
 She, the plain CaroUne, as she had al- 
 ways been taught to consider herself; 
 she, who had always been told it was a 
 wonderful thing if she had good partners 
 and many of them, because she had so 
 few personal pretensions, had that even- 
 ing evidently ?no)^e than divided with her 
 cousins the attentions of this very pleas- 
 ing man ; and a feeling of self-compla- 
 cency, which she had never experienced 
 before, gratified her artless and innocent 
 bosom. *' /like Miss Dormer.^ Im- 
 possible ! " she said to herself : then go- 
 ing on tiptoe to the glass, she endeavoured 
 to contemplate her features by the light 
 of the lamp in the chimney; but she
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 315 
 
 could only see them imperfectly, and she 
 returned disappointed to her chair. 
 
 However, the same thoughts again re- 
 curred ; while again the wish returned to 
 gaze upon those features which now, for 
 the first time, had gained importance in 
 her eyes. She therefore made another 
 effort ; and took the lamp to the glass, 
 instead of carrying, as she had before 
 done, the glass to the lamp ; but, in so 
 doing, she struck the lamp against the 
 drawers, and awoke her aunt, who ex- 
 claimed, " What noise is that ? " Luckily 
 however for Caroline, who v/ould not lie, 
 and who would have blushed to own the 
 truth, she fell asleep again without wait- 
 ing for an answer. 
 
 Caroline now returned the lamp to its 
 place without another attempt to profit 
 by its light ; for her rightly-feeling mind 
 was shocked to think she had, in order to 
 indulge a trumpery vanity, disturbed the 
 'p2
 
 316 AFTER THE BALL; OR, 
 
 rest of one whose slumbers she was pre- 
 tending to guard ; and she now sighed, 
 while she thought how soon that mind 
 which she had once fancied could not be 
 upset, was capable of being misled if the 
 same incense was applied to her self-love. 
 "I see that I should have been like my 
 cousins, if I had had the same tempta- 
 tions : " and while her heart glowed with 
 pious thankfulness for exemption from 
 their dangers, she felt the most generous 
 indulgence for their errors, and the senti- 
 ment of self -blame for having ever judged 
 them severely. 
 
 It was not till six o'clock that Lady 
 Wallington woke ; when assuring Caro- 
 line that she was quite recovered, she in- 
 sisted on her retiring to bed and calling 
 her own maid to her. 
 
 The breakfast that morning at Old 
 Hall was much later even than usual. 
 Caroline, on entering the room, was sur-
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 317 
 
 prised to see her uncle there, but not sur- 
 prised to behold him looking, as usual, 
 the stern dictator ; especially as the gout, 
 she knew, was no sweetener of the tem- 
 per. The sight of her, however, smoothed 
 his perturbed brow : **Wlvdt! Gary, up 
 already ? " cried he : " This is a comfort 
 I did not expect, as thou hast been up 
 all night, child. Come hither, my girl, 
 come and tie this handkerchief round 
 my foot. Those clumsy-fingered girls 
 can't do it at all. I protest, there is no 
 one in the house good for any thing but 
 thy little self." 
 
 Caroline obeyed. " So, ladies/' he then 
 added, " I find you take advantage of my 
 absence to quarrel with your silly fond 
 mother, and throw her into those horrible 
 squalling fits of hers. But mark me! I will 
 have no one abusive in this house but my- 
 self! and if you do not obey me, you shall 
 rue it. And I find too that, instead of stay-
 
 3 IS AFTER THE ball; OR, 
 
 ing with her to show your penitence, you 
 went to bed, and let that sweet unoffend- 
 ing girl sit up." 
 
 *' Dear me, papa ! " cried Laura ; ** it 
 was only an hysteric : there was no need 
 to sit up, only Caroline chose to do it." 
 
 " Caroline always chooses to do right. 
 Come hither and give me a kiss, dear." 
 
 " What an owl the child looks to-day! " 
 observed Anne spitefully, being piqued at 
 her father's commendation of Caroline. 
 
 '* She only looks like one who has had 
 no sleep^ Miss Pert. And why had she 
 not '^ Because she was performing the 
 duty you neglected. Though not the 
 handsomest^ Caroline is the best girl in 
 the world." 
 
 Here the two sisters forced a violent 
 ** Ha! ha! bal" as if in derision, while 
 Caroline was secretly thankful that she 
 had already restored her mind to its 
 wonted state of humility on the score of
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. ?)\9 
 
 '\\^x pwR beauty ; else her cousins' re- 
 mark and her uncle's comment would 
 have mortified her exceedingly. She was 
 also prepared for the further mortifica- 
 tions of which her cousins' laughter was, 
 slie knew, the forerunner. 
 
 '* Pray, what does that confounded 
 cackle mean .^ for laugh it was not : ex- 
 plain," said Sir John in a loud tone. 
 
 " Why, papa, there is a gentleman in 
 the world who, by implication at least, 
 thinks Gary handsome: no less a man 
 than our guest of last night." 
 
 '* Does he ? Then he is a sensible man, 
 and I honour him ; for * handsome is that 
 handsome does ;' and if he could only see 
 Gary nurse me in a fit of the gout, see 
 how lightly she trips along the floor, and 
 how gently her beautiful little fingers tie 
 on my shoes, I should not wonder if he 
 thought her beautiful; and if he has a 
 tendency to gout, Gary's fortune would
 
 320 AFTER THE BALL; OR, 
 
 be made directly. — What say you, girl ? 
 Could you like Sir William ?'* 
 
 This unexpected question made all the 
 blood fly from her heart to her cheeks ; 
 for she had ventured to whisper to her- 
 self that perhaps she could have liked Sir 
 William, if it had been possible that he 
 could have liked her ; and Mrs. Norman, 
 enjoying her confusion, said "Poor Miss 
 Gary ! what a pity it is Sir William seems 
 enamoured of Miss Dormer ! " 
 
 Here a sharp twinge of the gout 
 caused Sir John to exclaim violently, 
 and taking Caroline's arm he hobbled to 
 his study and his couch. 
 
 It was now only two days to Sir William 
 and Miss Dormer's ball, and the sisters 
 were busily employed in making prepa- 
 rations. They had bespoken dresses from 
 London, which were the objects of daily 
 admiration. Caroline was forced to 
 content herself with an old dress ; and
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 321 
 
 she virtuously endeavoured to hush the 
 murmurs of her vanity, by the conviction 
 that a dress Hke that of her cousins, espe-. 
 cially as her other was still as good as 
 new, would have been highly unbecom- 
 ing her dependent situation. 
 
 Still, in spite of her self-discipline, she 
 could not help being most unphilosophi- 
 cally delighted, when, on Miss Walling- 
 ton's asking Caroline whether she did not 
 mean to wear some new trimming, her 
 aunt replied, " There is no necessity for 
 it, as I have by to-day's post ordered her 
 a dress exactly like your own, except that, 
 as she is not so tall or large as you are, 
 she is to have a flounce less, and the 
 branches of flowers are to be smaller." 
 
 The sisters were at first silent from 
 mortification, and Caroline from pleasur- 
 able emotion; while Mrs. Norman ex- 
 claimed, " What attention and genero-^ 
 
 sity!" 
 
 p5.
 
 322r AFTER THE BALL ; OR, 
 
 ^* Say rather What justice!" said Lady 
 WaUington ? "I only have remembered as 
 I ought that good girl's attention to me." 
 
 ^' My dear aunt," cried Caroline, seiz- 
 ing her hand, and finding her power to 
 speak return, "how you overrate my little 
 services! which after all are only your 
 due. But I never wore a dress with such 
 pleasure as I shall wear this : I wish it 
 was come. How I long to see it ! I hope 
 Miss Dormer will admire it, because I 
 shall have such pleasure in saying it was 
 my aunt's present for the occasion." 
 
 ** I think, madam, you might have 
 consulted my sister and me, before you 
 ordered Caroline a dress exactly like ours. 
 You know we always dress alike ; but we 
 make a point of Caroline's dressing dif- 
 ferently." 
 
 " Then the more shame for you, as 
 she is your first cousin, and moreover the 
 child of the elder brother."
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 323 
 
 " lliere is no reason for you to throw 
 that in my teeth always." 
 
 ** Dear me, Anne," cried Laura, *' how 
 can you be disconcerted at Caroline's be- 
 ing drest like us .^ Dresses look so dif- 
 ferent on tali women to what they do on 
 little creatures like her, that I dare say no 
 one will see her dress is like ours ; espe- 
 cially as it is to have a flounce less." 
 
 " True. But no : "as Gary is coming 
 out in a new character, that of a beauty, 
 the chances are that she and her dress 
 alone will be remarked, and we and ours 
 wholly overlooked." 
 
 Here they attempted to laugh ; while 
 their mother, whose affection had been 
 somewhat alienated by their undutiful 
 behaviour, enjoyed their mortification, 
 and, telling Caroline she knew slie had 
 too much greatness of mind to be an- 
 noyed by their raillery, desired her to go
 
 324 AFTER THE BALL ; OR, 
 
 with her into her apartment, and read 
 one of Crabbe's Tales to her. 
 
 When Caroline appeared at dinner 
 that day, every one observed that she 
 looked thoughtful, and was frequently on 
 the point of saying something ; and when 
 her aunt and cousins remarked, that they 
 thought it strange Sir William Maberley 
 had not called, they saw that Caroline's 
 countenance had a peculiar expression. 
 
 *^ Come, Cary, out with what you wish 
 to say ; for I have watched you for some 
 time, and I am sure you have something 
 to communicate, but want resolution," 
 said Sir John. 
 
 " Yes : really, I wish to say something; 
 but I am afraid you will laugh at me, 
 and—" 
 
 ** Laugh at you, Cary .^ Who shall dare 
 to laugh at you in my presence, ha '^ " 
 
 Here he gave his daughters one of his
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 325 
 
 fiercest looks, and Caroline ventured to 
 ask, " Pray, dear aunt, are you quite sure 
 who the gentleman was that supped with 
 us last night ? " 
 
 " What fancy has she got in her head 
 now ? " muttered Anne. 
 
 ^* Silence! " vociferated Sir John. "^^ An- 
 siuer Lady Wallington ; I hope you did 
 not bring home a sharper with you "^ " 
 
 " No : certainly not, for your son in- 
 troduced him to us." 
 
 ** Yes : but what did he call him? Did 
 you hear him distinctly say Sir William 
 Maberley .^ / certainly heard him say 
 only Sir WiUiam ; for he just then turned 
 away." 
 
 " Well, Gary, and what then ^ 
 
 " Why, sir, I have my suspicions that 
 —that—" 
 
 " Oh ! I see it all now," said Anne with 
 one of her most provoking laughs : " Gary 
 thinks, nay hopes perhaps, that our guest
 
 32(] AFTER THE ball; ok, 
 
 was really Sir William Dormer, and not 
 Sir William Maberley ; and if so, slie 
 thinks zae have no chance of being Lady 
 Dormer, and she certainly has — '' 
 
 " No, indeed," replied Caroline, *' I 
 am not so conceited ; but I have some 
 reason for my suspicions *' 
 
 " I hope not, my dear," said Lady 
 Wallington gravely: " for if so, I should 
 be ashamed to look Sir WiUiam Dormer 
 in the face." 
 
 " And so should I, I am si/re, mam- 
 ma. 
 
 *^ I also, and all of us but Caroline. 
 But quick^ your reasons, Cary ? " 
 
 ** When I first began to have my sus- 
 picions, I asked the butler v^hither Sir 
 William ordered his postillion to drive ; 
 and he said that he called out Home ! 
 Now, Sir William Maberley lives in an- 
 other county, and he certainly told us 
 he had his own carriage and horses."
 
 THE T\vO SIR WILLIAMS, 327 
 
 ^ "I declare there is some probability in 
 what Gary says. But go on." 
 
 " What made you first suspect ? " 
 
 '^ The gioo??i, and the ve?y odd look 
 which I remembered to have seen on his 
 countenance when you were so — when 
 you were criticising Miss Dormer, and 
 the pleasure which his looks expressed 
 when I defended her." 
 
 " Well, but if he was he?* love?* he 
 would have looked the same." 
 
 " Yes : but remember that he got 
 lip and tried to go away when you 
 talked of Sir William Dormer ; and I 
 saw every now and then, that though he 
 looked confused, the corners of his mouth 
 showed that he could hardly help laugh- 
 ing." 
 
 ** I cannot say I watched the man's 
 countenance," said Anne. 
 
 ** Or the corners of his mouth either," 
 cried Laura.
 
 32() AFTER THE BALL; OR, 
 
 was really Sir William Dormer, and not 
 Sir William Maberley ; and if' so, she 
 thinks ive have no chance of being Lady 
 Dormer, and she certainly has — '' 
 
 " No, indeed," replied Caroline, " I 
 am not so conceited ; but I have some 
 reason for my suspicions " 
 
 " I hope not, ray dear," said Lady 
 Wallington gravely: " for if so, I should 
 be ashamed to look Sir William Dormer 
 in the face." 
 
 ** And so should I, I am sm^e, mam- 
 ma." 
 
 *^ I also, and all of us but Caroline. 
 But quick, your reasons, Cary ? " 
 
 " When I first began to have my sus- 
 picions, I asked the butler whither Sir 
 William ordered his postillion to drive ; 
 and he said that he called out Home ! 
 Now, Sir William Maberley lives in an- 
 other county, and he certainly told us 
 he had his own carriage and horses."
 
 THE rvO SI R.WILLIAMS. 32? 
 
 " I declare thei-e is some probability in 
 what Gary says. Bat go on." 
 
 " What made you first i-uspect ? " 
 
 *^ The gloom, and the very odd look 
 which I remembered to have seen on his 
 countenance when you were so — when 
 you were criticising Miss Dormer, and 
 the pleasure wliich his looks expressed 
 when I defended her." 
 
 " Well, but if he was her lover he 
 would have looked the same." 
 
 " Yes : but remember that he got 
 lip and tried to go away when you 
 talked of Sir William Dormer ; and I 
 saw every now and then, that though he 
 looked confused, the corners of his mouth 
 showed that he could hardly help laugh- 
 ing." 
 
 ** I cannot say I watched the man's 
 countenance," said Anne. 
 
 ** Or the corners of his mouth either," 
 cried Laura.
 
 330 AFTER THE BALL ; OR, 
 
 our guest give for not being earlier at 
 the ball?" 
 
 " He said he had been forced to attend 
 a christening dinner on his way." 
 
 "And pray, most oracular cousin,"cried 
 Anne, *' did Miss Dormer mention her 
 brother to you ? " 
 
 *' Yes : she said she did not expect 
 him that evening." 
 
 " There! And yet Cary has frightened 
 us all by her ridiculous suspicions!" 
 
 " Why really, Gary, I begin to think 
 Anne is right : as Miss Dormer did not 
 expect her brother, it is most likely he 
 did not come." 
 
 Lady Wallington now rose from table, 
 and the ladies left Sir John to his nap 
 in his elbow chair. 
 
 At tea-time Mr. Nowell arrived, and 
 was eagerly questioned concerning Sir 
 William Dormer, and whether he was 
 at Park Place, or not.
 
 THE TWO yiR WILLIAMS. 331 
 
 '' Dormer ! " replied he, " Let me re- 
 collect, what did Lord John Rory write 
 me word about Dormer ? No : it was 
 not Lord John, it was the Marquis. Oh, 
 I have it : he said Dormer was going 
 to dine with him the next day at the Star 
 and Garter at Richmond. So you see 
 he can't be here, because he dined at 
 Richmond yesterday." 
 
 "lam satisfied:" ''And so ami;" *'And 
 so am I," said the three ladies in great joy. 
 
 ''• What is all this ? " asked Mr. Now- 
 ell affectedly : " I seem to have imparted 
 great satisfaction." 
 
 *•' Oh, nothing : only Caroline was sure 
 Sir William Dormer was come to Park 
 Place, and we were sure to the contrary. 
 What sort of looking man is SirWilliam ? 
 Is he tall .^" 
 
 > " About my height," replied Nowell, 
 drav/ing up his head to the utmost. 
 
 " Is he stout or thin ?"
 
 332 AFTER THE BALL ; OR, 
 
 " About my size," throwing back his 
 shoulders as he spoke. 
 
 " Is he fair or dark ? " 
 
 *^ Much such a complexion and hair 
 as mine." 
 
 "Eyes dark or light ? " 
 
 Here Mr. No well, instead of replying, 
 fixed his own, stretching them to their 
 utmost bounds, on his fair interroga- 
 tor; and after a pause, during which 
 the ladies could scarcely restrain their 
 laughter, he exclaimed, ** Look and judge 
 for yourselves ! " 
 
 ^' Do you mean to insinuate," said 
 Anne, " that you are really Sir William 
 Dormer himself in disguise '^ " 
 
 **No : but we are so alike that we have 
 been spoken to for each other. Lord 
 John calls us the two Amphitryons." 
 
 " Then, I am sure, mamma," cried 
 Laura, " we have never yet seen Sir 
 William Dormer."
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 333 
 
 Caroline was silent ; for so difficult is 
 it for the most candid minds to part 
 with a strongly conceived opinion, that 
 she even thought she saw in the coxcomb 
 before her, an ugly likeness of the hand- 
 some baronet. 
 
 Those who love to indulge in banter- 
 ing are very glad of variety of object for 
 it ; and Anne ceased to laugh at her little 
 cousin, in order to play off Mr. Nowell 
 and Mrs. Norman, which she did in her 
 own judgement so successfully, that she 
 was good-humoured to her sister, kind 
 to Caroline^ and tolerably dutiful to her 
 mother, though her father was not pre- 
 sent ; and their ambiguous guest was 
 entirely forgotten. 
 
 Mr. Nowell was at all times a fit ob- 
 ject for her ridicule; for he was in every 
 way a consummate coxcomb; and at that 
 moment he was dressed, though he was a 
 gentleman of birth and fortune, in the ex-
 
 334 AFTER THE BALL; OR, 
 
 treme of dandyism ; — that is, the breast 
 qf his coat and waistcoat were padded till 
 they bestowed on him a protruding chest, 
 while his waist was tightened in till it 
 became small to an apparently wasp-like 
 degree ; and his pantaloons were plaited 
 and gathered in at top till they assumed 
 a petticoat fulness, giving an unnatural 
 appearance of roundness to his person, 
 and making him, like many other young 
 men of the present day, look like a woman 
 on the stage attired in boy's clothes ; 
 while the collar of his shirt was almost 
 in loving contact with his nostrils, and 
 his wristbands had formed an equally in- 
 timate connexion with his knuckles. 
 
 But, happy am I to say that a less ef- 
 feminate description of dress seems likely 
 soon to prevail; a dress more worthy of 
 the manly youth of Britain. 
 
 The next day was passed by the sisters 
 some miles off at the hoube of a school
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 335 
 
 friend; andby Sir John, Lady Wallington, 
 and Caroline, at a little cottage near the 
 sea, inhabited by his favourite physician . 
 
 When the family returned home they 
 found Sir William Maberley's call card, 
 who had called during their absence; 
 and while it filled the rest of the party 
 with exultation, Caroline vainly tried to 
 be equally glad ; but when she reached 
 her own apartment she involuntarily said 
 to herself, *' So then it was Sir William 
 Maberley after all ! and he is certainly in 
 love with Miss Dormer ! " 
 
 The next day that dawned was the day 
 of Miss Dormer's ball ; but hour follow- 
 ed hour, and no dress arrived for Caroline : 
 she summoned all the fortitude of eighteen 
 upon the occasion : at last she observed, 
 she had better prepare her other gown, 
 thankfully accepting a trim.ming of Laura's 
 to add to the necessary decoration. 
 
 By the latest coach the long-expected
 
 3S6 AFTER THE BALL; 
 
 box appeared ; and the dress, endeared 
 still more by the dread of its not arriv- 
 ing, was received in uninjured beauty. 
 When the ladies ready dressed for the 
 ball u^ere waiting for their carriage, they 
 saw, to their great surprise, Sir John him- 
 self enter the room in his very best at- 
 tire, save that one of his shoes was a 
 gouty one, and declaring that he was re- 
 solved to witness the conquests he antici- 
 pated; for little Gary really looked so 
 charmingly, that he foresaw she would be 
 the cause of great trouble to him. 
 
 ** And do not your own daughters 
 look charmingly too. Sir John ?" said 
 Lady Wallington, whose maternal pride 
 now took the alarm. 
 
 ** Yes ; but that they alivays do, and 
 look as if they knew it too : but Caroline 
 never looked so well before, nor was ever 
 so well dressed before, I fancy ; and her 
 consciousness of it only just serves to
 
 OR, THE TWO SIR WiLLIAJ^S. 337 
 
 deepen the colour of her cheeks to a most 
 becoming hue." 
 
 The sisters tossed up their heads at this 
 just description, while Caroline looked 
 still prettier from the blush which it 
 called forth on her dimpled cheek, and 
 with sparkling eyes jumped into the car- 
 riage after her cousins. 
 
 For a mile before the carriage reached 
 Park Place, the company approached the 
 house through an avenue in which every 
 tree was filled with pale green lamps, 
 whose light increased by contrast the 
 brilliancy that met their eyes on every 
 side when they entered the Hall, the 
 dome of which was studded with white 
 lamps, while magnificent cut glass lustres 
 were suspended from every ceiling in 
 the suite of rooms on the first floor, and 
 displayed to advantage the beauty of the 
 pictures. 
 
 VOL. I. a
 
 338 AFTER THE BALL ; OR, 
 
 Miss Dormer received Lady Walling- 
 ton and her daughters coldly, but politely ; 
 she looked more graciously on Sir John. 
 But when she saw Caroline, she took her 
 hand with a smile of animated welcome. 
 Nothing could exceed the simplicity of 
 Aliss Dormer's dress that evening ; and 
 now, as Caroline said to herself, no eye 
 surely, but that of a very envious woman, 
 could discover any fault in her shape. 
 
 The ladies looked round to try if they 
 could see Sir William Maberley, but in 
 vain ; and as no gentleman came forward 
 to receive them, they concluded Sir Wil- 
 liam Dormer was not present. 
 
 Miss Dormer now proposed to adjourn 
 to the dancing-room, and, on the doors 
 being thrown open, led the way into a 
 long gallery brilliantly lighted and orna- 
 mented with fine statues. At the end 
 of this gallery were a number of gentle-
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 339 
 
 men, two of whom advanced from the 
 group : in one of the^e the Wallingtons 
 recognised Sir William Maberley; the 
 other was, they concluded, the master of 
 the house. 
 
 As the two gentlemen advanced to 
 meet her, she said, '* Give me leave, my 
 dear brother, to present you to Sir John 
 and Lady Wallington, and the Miss Wal- 
 lingtons ; and this is my friend Miss 
 Caroline Wallington," taking at the same 
 time the hand of the supposed Sir ^\'il- 
 liam Maberley ! 
 
 Caroline was now full of pity, and even 
 of mortification, on witnessing the con- 
 sternation of her aunt and cousins, and 
 the wonder, mixed with painful suspicion, 
 with which Sir John obsei*ved the evident 
 discomposure of his family. 
 
 •* What does all this mean ? " said he. 
 "Answer me, Lady Wallington: Is this 
 
 €l2
 
 340 AFTER THE BaLL; OR, 
 
 the gentleman whom you mistook the 
 other night for Sir WilHam Maberley ? " 
 
 '* / am the real Simon Pure," said the 
 other gentleman : " and I did myself the 
 honour, though personally unknown, to 
 call yesterday at Old Hall, to thank you 
 for the civilities intended for me." 
 
 " Hark ye ! Sir WiUiam Dormer," said 
 Sir John taking him on one side, " I trust 
 you are too sensible a man to be affected 
 by the impertinence of women, or to 
 think the worse of me because I have a 
 foolish wife and prating daughters. I un- 
 derstand that all my family, little Car}' 
 excepted, said many things which they 
 now wish recalled : but for my sake, and 
 for Caroline's sake, who is a little angel, 
 and I dare say behaved like one, pray for 
 give the rest of the family." 
 
 Sir William, who was a singular mix- 
 ture of mmcvaise-honte and dignity, felt
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 341 
 
 embarrassed during this address ; but at 
 the end of it he cordially gave his hand 
 to Sir John, and said, " Not only for 
 your sake, and that of Miss Caroline, 
 but for theirs, will I banish from my 
 mind every recollection of what passed 
 at Old Hall ; though for my own sake I 
 wish to remember it, as mortifications to 
 the vanity are always salutary- What 
 was said of one dearer to me than my- 
 self, she, also, I trust, will profit by. And 
 now, Miss Caroline, let me reward your 
 candour and kindness, by presenting you 
 to that sweet old lady, my aunt, who pro- 
 mises, that when she chooses a dress for 
 her niece again, it shall be such as your 
 better taste approves." 
 
 While he said this, he led the de- 
 lighted Caroline to Mrs. Fitzroy, who gave 
 her such a reception as proved that her 
 nephew had spoken most highly of her.
 
 34*2 AFTER THE BALL; OR, 
 
 Miss Dormer now gave the signal for 
 the music to begin. The sets were form- 
 ed; and Sir WiUiam Maberley led Miss 
 Dormer to the top of one of the dances, 
 while Sir William conducted Caroline to 
 the head of the other set. 
 
 To Anne and Laura, and indeed to 
 Lady Wallington, the evening was now 
 completely spoiled. Lady Wallington 
 had great pride in her daughters ; pride 
 in their beauty and external graces, 
 upon which she depended for their ad- 
 vantageous establishment in life. She 
 had looked forward to the ball of that 
 evening, with great expectation : but her 
 views were now frustrated ; and had she 
 been a wise woman, she would have 
 blamed herself for not having tried to give 
 her daughters virtues as well as accom- 
 plishments, when she saw that Caroline, 
 witli inferiority of face, person, and ac*
 
 THE T\VO SIR WILLIAMS. 343 
 
 quirements, by the simple exertion of 
 candour, and a kind, indulgent spirit, had 
 contrived to nidki^ J'riends where they had 
 made enemies, and was enjoying that 
 ball-room, which was to them and to her 
 a scene only of regret, envy, and resent- 
 ment. 
 
 They had the pleasure of being en- 
 gaged for every dance ; but they were not 
 dancing with the first men in the room, 
 and Caroline was ; nor could they hear 
 without excessive mortification, how even 
 BEAUTIFUL CuToline looked; and what 
 marked attention she received from Sir 
 William and Miss Dormer : for there is, 
 perhaps, no feeling more trying to the 
 self-love of both sexes, than that of being 
 forced to own a superior or an eglual 
 in one w^hom all your life you have con- 
 sidered as your inferior. 
 
 In the course of the evening Sir Wil- 
 liam Dormer owned to Caroline, that he
 
 344 AFTER THE BALL : OR, 
 
 had chosen, knowing his sister's strength 
 of mind, to impart to her what Miss Wal- 
 Ungton and CaroUne had said concerning 
 her dress, and her dancing quadrilles ; 
 and had expressed his wish, that she 
 would be more simple in the one and dis- 
 continue the other. 
 
 " You see," he added, *' that she has 
 complied with my request; she did it 
 with the greatest good humour ; and 
 though we have danced quadrilles this 
 evening, she has declined doing so, and 
 her dress is as simple as you would have 
 advised. Let me add, however, that 
 Augusta was more gratified by your de- 
 fence, than she was wounded by the se- 
 verity of the rest of the family. But see, 
 hither she and Mrs. Fitzroy are coming 
 to speak to you, and I hope that you will 
 receive what they have to say with a wish 
 to oblige them." 
 
 As soon as Caroline heard what they
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAM?. 345 
 
 hail to -communicate, she flew on the 
 wings of hope and joy to seek her uncle 
 and aunt; to whom her cousins were ex- 
 pressing their wish to return home. 
 
 '' What! so soon ?" cried Caroline, her 
 look of joy suddenly changing. 
 
 '•' So soon ! Why it is three o'clock, 
 and we are both tired." 
 
 "Tired!" 
 
 *' Don't echo my words, if you please, 
 - — it is very vulgar. Yes, tired ; for I 
 never passed a more disagreeable even- 
 ing." 
 
 *' Disa — " Caroline checked herself, and 
 almost begged her cousin's pardon : then 
 turning to Sir John and Lady Wallington, 
 the former of whom observed her look of 
 aninuited pleasure with kind satisfaction, 
 she told them that Mrs. Fitzroy and Miss 
 Dormer had asked her to spend a week 
 with. them, if they would allow it; and 
 before Lady Wallington could reply.
 
 346 AFTER THE BALL ; OR, 
 
 those ladies came in person to urge their 
 suit. 
 
 "Ladies," said Sir John, " it is I, and I 
 alone, who am the person toconsult; for 
 Caroline is my head nurse : — however, as 
 the gout is nearly gone, I shall willingly 
 spare her whenever you choose to sum- 
 mon her." 
 
 " Could she not stay to-night .^" 
 
 " Why, yes," he answered, ** I have no 
 objection, and then the dear little girl 
 may dance as long as she likes." 
 
 " Oh ! my kind good uncle," said Ca- 
 i*oline, "I never can thank you enough !' 
 
 Caroline's joy, however, was not wholly 
 on account of being able to rejoin the 
 dance; she was glad to escape the sar- ^ 
 casms and ill humour which her cousins, 
 she knew, would vent on her defenceless 
 head, and also perhaps on the master and 
 mistress of the feast. 
 
 But to spend a lueek with such mild
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 34/ 
 
 and blessed spirits as Mrs . Fi tzroy and Miss 
 Dormer! Mrs. Fitzroy, who had known, 
 slie found, her own dear mother ! Never 
 since that regretted parent died had Ca- 
 roline felt so happy ; and it was so kind 
 in her uncle to spare her, before he had 
 gotten his own shoe on again ! 
 
 How worthy of love is that being who 
 is fond of encouraging sources for thank- 
 fulness ! and how salutary is the influ- 
 ence of such a one ! Such a temper, like 
 the Claude Lorraine glass, sheds a glow- 
 ing tint over scenes which are already 
 pleasing, and creates them where the pro- 
 spect is gloomy and cheerless. 
 
 Caroline stayed a week ^t Park Place, 
 and then obtained leave to stay another, 
 and another. At the end of the third, 
 when Sir William Dormer and his sister 
 conducted her to Old Hall, the former 
 came to urge a still dearer and more im- 
 portant request to Sir John ; namely,
 
 348 AFTER THE BALL; OK, 
 
 that he would part with his little nurse 
 for life, and allow her to he the mistress 
 of Park Place. 
 
 Sir John was luckily, at this moment, 
 quite free from gout; therefore it was no 
 trial to his selfishness to grant the request: 
 besides, if it had, it was so good a thing 
 to part with a portionless niece to such a 
 man, that even the gout would have re- 
 monstrated in vain. With a glow of af- 
 fectionate pleasure, he said, " Take her. 
 Sir William, she is yours ; and I, who 
 know her worth, for I have tried it, can 
 assure you that I give you a treasured 
 
 It is not to be supposed that the sisters 
 could see without great pain, their de- 
 spised cousi^Cary made the choice of a 
 man of splendid fortune and high con- 
 nexion ; nor that they could ever help re- 
 gretting the supper *' after the ball ;" 
 because they felt assured that, but for 
 that unfortunate conversation, Sir Wil-
 
 THE TWO SIR WILLIAMS. 349 
 
 Ham Dormer might have chosen one of 
 themselves ; for it was a little salvo to 
 their vanity, to believe that it was by the 
 incense offered that evening unconsciously 
 to his fraternal vanity, that Caroline had 
 obtained the preference ; and when they 
 were in a very spiteful mood, they worked 
 up each other to suspect that Caroline^ 
 though they did not, knew him all the 
 time to be Sir William Dormer. 
 
 Whether the mortifying results of that 
 memorable evening made them more 
 careful in future how \\\Q,y pulled to pieces 
 and cut up (to use two expressive though 
 common metaphors) their companions 
 and friends, on their return home from 
 routs or assemblies, I cannot determine ; 
 but certain it is, that Caroline continued 
 to be as candid, and as averse from de- 
 traction, as she had then proved herself; 
 and Sir William Dormer often declared, 
 that his little wife never looked so lovely
 
 350 AFTER THE BALL. 
 
 in his eyes, as when on such occasions 
 she dwelt dehghted on the looks or 
 graces of the ladies whom she had met, 
 and kindly threw their defects into shade, 
 — proving herself, I must own from fre- 
 quent experience, an exception to a ge- 
 neral rule ; as what is more common than 
 for a party to assemble round the table of 
 refreshment, to talk over, criticize, and 
 ridicule the company, and prove detrac- 
 tion the greatest of pleasures " after 
 the ball ? " 
 
 END OF vol. I. 
 
 Priniai iy Richard and j-Juhm Tut/lofj Skoe-Lane,

 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOI8-URBANA 
 
 III 
 
 30112055267089