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 A WOMAN' S STORY. 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. S. C. HALL. 
 
 « 
 
 those first aflfections, 
 
 Those shadowy recollections, 
 
 Which, be they what they may, 
 
 Are yet the fountain light of all our day." 
 
 Wordsworth, 
 
 O THEEE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS 
 SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1857. 
 
 The right of Translation is reserved.
 
 PHINTED BY CHAIiLKS BEVAX AKD SON, CHAPEL STBEKT, GEOSVEKOR SQX7AHE.
 
 C 'S^ 
 
 
 A WOMAN'S STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 '' The innocent brightness of a new-born day 
 Is lovely yet : 
 
 The clouds that gather round the setting sun 
 Do take a sober colouring from an eye 
 That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality : 
 Another race hath been, and other palms are won." 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 Although there is nothing to gratify self-love 
 in the distinction I claim, it is, notwithstand- 
 ing, very pleasant for a person — such as I am 
 — who has acquired a habit of observation, 
 and who loves to listen rather than talk, to 
 be considered a Nobody — a sort of harmless 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 A woman's story. 
 
 ' familiar ^ — permitted to go and come, to 
 move about, to read, work, or nod in a corner, 
 without giving offence, and without being no- 
 ticed, except by a bright look, a kind smile, 
 or to be greeted, on entrance, perhaps, by 
 words like these — 
 
 " Oh, we are so glad to see you! sit down; 
 and, as we never make a stranger of you, we 
 will go on with our talk, just as if you were 
 ' nobody ;' that is exactly what you like." 
 
 And so it is ; I desire to glide noiselessly 
 through life, observing and thinking, not 
 musing and dreaming; studying the charac- 
 ters of my friends, not to pry into their secrets, 
 or display their foibles to the world, but from 
 an earnest wish to practise what would give 
 them pleasure, and to avoid causing them 
 pain. I daily balance the motives which im- 
 pel or impede the movements of the circle 
 that forms my world ; that is sufficient to in- 
 terest me day by day, while things and events 
 of greater import hang about my heart, or 
 crowd upon my memory. I have lived in won- 
 derful times, and seen what the past would 
 have rejected, had it been foretold by the
 
 A WOMAN S STORY. 6 
 
 voice of prophecy, and to which the future 
 will hardly give credit. Yet, on the whole, 
 comparing that which now is, with that which 
 must be hereafter, I think my faculty of ob- 
 servation — I say, on the whole — has given me 
 more pleasure than pain. I have silently 
 chronicled within my heart of hearts many 
 noble deeds, of which the world has heard 
 nothing ; and, by much comparing, and much 
 pondering, I have been able to clear up and 
 remove, to my own satisfaction, and frequently 
 to the satisfaction of others, doubts and sus- 
 picions thrown upon actions that deserved an 
 immortality for their purity and unselfishness. 
 I have seen great hearts, although worn out 
 by mighty beatings, accomplish high purposes 
 in the end, and so depart, with their triumph, 
 to the Heaven they were worthy of entering ; 
 and I have also seen the mean and base, 
 however prosperous for a time, left to pant 
 out the last hours of unworthy or polluted 
 lives, without consideration and without re- 
 spect. I have seen people change uncon- 
 sciously — proud, lonely men pass from old 
 opinions, and embrace new ones, not feverishly, 
 
 B 2
 
 4 A woman's story. 
 
 or with indecent haste, but gliding smoothly 
 with the moving times, mingling in kindlier 
 communion with their fellow-beings, extending 
 their sympathies, and combining in one great 
 brotherhood those from whom, a few years 
 before, they would have turned with most un- 
 christian loathing and contempt. Preserving 
 the semblance of the old, when all things have 
 become new, men do not seem to understand 
 how they mock and contradict themselves, by 
 talking as if they still held by the shadows of 
 the past ; while, in reality, they grasp, and 
 are with, and of, the realities of the present ; 
 it is a sort of innocent self-delusion that — one 
 of the things which give to an observant old 
 woman a right to the luxury of a quiet smile. 
 The rush of new sympathies into society is 
 among the most marvellous of the movements 
 I have seen ; and I sometimes wonder if the 
 wear and tear of so many exciting causes will 
 not exhaust us, before our time ; but we still 
 continue to take excellent good care of our- 
 selves, however much our sympathies are acted 
 on. I do not know one comfortable, well-to- 
 do sort of person, they have as yet hurried
 
 A woman's story. 5 
 
 to an untimely grave ; and it is a great bless- 
 ing to think, that while the poor benefit by 
 being drawn nearer to the rich, the rich are 
 none the less prosperous for thinking of, and 
 assisting, the poor. I have seen — but why do 
 I use the privilege of years to this extent ? — 
 I have seen nothing but what all other persons 
 might have seen, had they only enjoyed the 
 privilege of being considered a ^Nobody,' and 
 used such privilege as a means of observation. 
 It is astonishing what books might be made, 
 and histories recorded, out of the every-day 
 occurrences of life; how dull and spiritless 
 fiction would seem when contrasted with facts 
 — how the ideal would shrink into insignifi- 
 cance before the real — how the actual would 
 distance the poetic, and the hearts of human 
 beings beat and throb at tales of simple, un- 
 adorned, and unexaggerated truth ; this has 
 been said scores of times, and as frequently 
 forgotten. 
 
 The progressings of some I knew in my 
 earlier days may, I think, be as interesting to 
 others as they were to me; while the lessons of 
 life taught by them, and which are graven on
 
 6 A woman's story. 
 
 my heart, might be useful — more especially to 
 such as float upon the surface, and never dive 
 beneath the waves, of time. 
 
 There is a Memory, always with me, of one 
 who, some years ago, made what is called a 
 ' great sensation ' in the word — a ^ beauty,' 
 with enough of wit to have fascinated if she 
 had been born a ' fright ;' with 1-earning ac- 
 quired I can scarcely tell how ; in short, a 
 Genius rare as extensive — and well garnished 
 by womanly grace, a sweet, playful, natural 
 manner, and a generous and feeling heart. 
 The reality and romance of this fair creature's 
 life were interwoven with many singular peo- 
 ple, and as singular events. A number of cir- 
 cumstances, which, at several periods of her 
 brilliant career, were involved in the deepest 
 mystery, are not a mystery to me; they will be 
 readily recalled, and with no ordinary emotion, 
 by the few who still personally remember Helen 
 Lyndsey ; while the many who (so devouring 
 is Time) have almost forgotten her name, 
 will, perhaps, attach some degree of interest 
 to the development of feelings and actions, 
 apparently, so contradictory. But I will let
 
 A woman's STORf. 
 
 the story of her singular and fitful life speak 
 for itself, going back to the time when I first 
 saw her, in the arms of her nurse, enveloped 
 in flannel and lace, and all kinds of old- 
 fashioned baby finery, a huge coral and bells 
 tinkling at her side, and her deep blue lustrous 
 eyes, even then completely shadowed over by 
 the longest and thickest fringe that ever rested 
 on the cheek of infant beauty. I little thought 
 
 then but I must, as I have just said, let 
 
 my story speak for itself ; yet it is my inten- 
 tion less to record a ' story,' than merely to 
 note down people and events as they ap- 
 peared or occurred ; especially those that were 
 connected with the remarkable history of this 
 ' life/ 
 
 My duty will, in reality, be little more than 
 this. 
 
 The parents of Helen Lyndsey lived in one 
 of those white houses close to the Firgrove, on 
 the broad, bold heath of Hampstead; there 
 are gardens in front of the houses, and they 
 command a view which, whether you look 
 towards the deep, grey shadowy common of 
 Finchley, with its clouds of mist rising from
 
 8 A woman's story. 
 
 the murky plain — or on the magnificent extent 
 of mighty London, gorging the vale of the 
 sweeping Thames with its multitude of palaces 
 and marts, its strangely -mingled population, 
 its steeples and freighted argosies, its charities 
 and miseries, its vastness and its noisomeness, 
 its amazing power as a city of fearful extent — 
 is a view which cannot be equalled in our own 
 proudly-beautiful land. In one of these houses 
 Mr. and Mrs. Lyndsey resided, rejoicing, long 
 after they were married, in having no children 
 — Mr. Lyndsey disliking 'juveniles,' because 
 they were noisy, and Mrs. Lyndsey hating 
 everything under eighteen, because it made the 
 room untidy, and endangered her old china. 
 At one time I imagined no human brain could 
 exist with so limited a number of ideas as were 
 contained within the head of Mr. Lyndsey, 
 but that was before I had the pleasure of 
 knowing his wife, to whom, however, the word 
 ' gentle ' could never be applied with any 
 degree of truth — she was, poor thing, both 
 ungentle and unquiet ; a snappish, fidgetty sort 
 of little woman, never entertaining more than 
 one idea per week, which she wore thoroughly
 
 A woman's story. 9 
 
 out before she had done with it, and without 
 
 having a clear notion of what she complained 
 
 of, or what she desired ; always finding fault 
 
 with somebody, and ever uncomfortable if she 
 
 had not some one to find fault with ; in short, 
 
 she was always wanting something it was next 
 
 to impossible to obtain. She had one set of 
 
 books a month from the library, which she 
 
 never read ; she knitted after breakfast, 
 
 grumbled at the servants, and paid visits ; she 
 
 slept between dinner and tea ; and she knitted 
 
 in the evening. Mr. and Mrs. Lyndsey had 
 
 married too late in life to have any sympathies 
 
 in common — her bitter nothingness was harder 
 
 to endure than her husband's insipidity — and 
 
 yet they got through the routine of suburban 
 
 existence respectably ; they ' paid their way ' 
 
 every month, returned visits and dinners (and 
 
 visits and dinners in the country, as Hamp- 
 
 stead considered itself some years ago, were 
 
 not the mere card-leaving, light, easy-got- over 
 
 things of the present day) punctually ; and 
 
 gave a pound each, at Christmas, to furnish 
 
 the poor of the district with coals and blankets 
 
 — it was only at that period of the year Mrs.
 
 10 A woman's story. 
 
 Lyndsey suffered the idea of poverty to enter 
 beyond the garden -gate ; if stray beggars, or 
 fortune telling gipsies, asked for charity, she 
 invariably reminded them that they had the 
 parish to go to. 
 
 I have written that at one time I believed 
 Mr. Lyndsey a man of few ideas ; when I be- 
 came more observant, I found he was only 
 a man of few words. He had been much 
 abroad in his early youth, at the period when 
 travel conferred distinction ; yet he never 
 alluded to that circumstance, or, indeed, to 
 any other of the past ; he avoided all mention 
 of foreign lands, and would steal quietly out 
 of the room when the movements of our 
 troops were discussed; while Mrs. Lyndsey 
 lost no opportunity of declaring that she loved 
 the French as a nation — they made such sweet 
 lace, and such fine cambric ! Mr. Lyndsey was, 
 as his wife often bitterly said, " absent when 
 present, and had as well never be present at 
 all." There was a rumour of his having been 
 once strikingly handsome, and quite ^ the man 
 of fashion ; ' his features were certainly fine, 
 but they were so immoveable, and his eyes so
 
 A woman's story. 11 
 
 indrawn and dull, that you might as well have 
 looked to a statue for varied expression as to 
 him, except that occasionally his cheek would 
 burn and flush, and he would start, not appa- 
 rently from any external cause, but as if 
 aroused by some internal pain ; indeed, I used 
 to think he suffered from spasm, and once 
 asked him, after a flush and start, when we 
 were quite alone, if I could do anything for 
 him, but he covered his face with his hands, 
 and walked out of tlte room. As to fashion, I 
 never knew him to dress otherwise than as a 
 sober citizen, and his wife complained bitterly 
 of his want of * style.' 
 
 Mr. Lyndsey evinced some interest in a 
 stout-built, heavy cob, ^ equal to sixteen 
 stone,' that had never warmed into a gallop 
 in its life, and spent much of his time in the 
 stable — always observing to Jerry Leary, an 
 old Irish groom who had lived with his father, 
 that he would ' back Brown Bob against any 
 ^ bit of blood ' on the road," — poor gentleman, 
 he generally stroked Bob down one sleek side, 
 and then down the other, in a dreamy sort of 
 way, and usually left the stable with the same
 
 12 A woman's story. 
 
 observation — to which Jerry invariably replied 
 '^ Ay, bedad, sir !" and then Jerry would 
 follow his master with his large, loving eyes, 
 and murmur, " Poor dear gentleman." Not- 
 withstanding Mrs. Lyndsey's proficiency in 
 the art of ingeniously tormenting, she would 
 often have lacked subject for murmur and 
 complaint, but for the existence and occasional 
 presence of Jerry Leary. Jerry kept out of 
 his mistress' way as much as possible ; he lived 
 over the stables (she had' long forbidden his 
 entering the house), and skulked about to 
 avoid getting into her sight — as he said, 
 " more like a thief than a man !" — his sole en- 
 joyment was in the society of Brown Bob, and 
 a grey horse that nothing could fatten, called 
 " Staggers," upon which he rode whenever 
 Mr. Lyndsey visited the house of business in 
 some city place, Change Alley, I believe — a 
 duty he performed every Saturday, come 
 what would ; and occasionally on other days. 
 As I have said, neither Mr. nor Mrs. Lynd- 
 sey were young when they married, and they 
 had quarrelled and sulked through ten years 
 of wedded life, when Mrs. Lyndsey became
 
 A woman's story. . 1 3 
 
 seriously indisposed — at least she said she was 
 so — and Mr. Lyndsey, after the lapse of a few 
 days, despatched Jerry into town to fetch a 
 doctor. I had owed them a visit for more 
 than a week, and knowing Mrs. Lyndsey's 
 punctual habits — people of small minds are 
 always punctual in small things, however 
 much they neglect greater — I feared I might 
 be transferred from her ostentatious visiting- 
 book into her black book, and was driving my 
 pony leisurely up the hill to pay my debt, when 
 1 espied Jerry on his ghostly-looking horse, 
 zig-zag-ing downwards ; he touched his hat, 
 which he always wore in a sailor-like fashion 
 at the back of his head, while his red hair 
 matted round it ; and drawing his bridle up 
 with a jerk, said, " Don't stop me, ma'am, if 
 you please, the mistress is very bad intirely, 
 and I'm going for a doctor." I expressed my 
 surprise and sorrow. " Bedad its true — and 
 very bad intirely she must be, for the women 
 say she hasn't uttered a cross word to them 
 these two days ; and you'd think the life 
 would lave the poor masther; ^Make haste, 
 Jerry,' he says, ' and don't stop to draw breath
 
 14 A woman's sroRY. 
 
 till you're back — for I fear she's going — she 
 hasn't said a syllable about the putting up 
 clean window curtains, though they have been 
 hung three days longer than usual." 
 
 " Then ride on, good Jerry." 
 
 " God bless you, ma'am, I will — I little 
 thought she'd be the first to go — for, in gene- 
 ral, it's the best that goes first." 
 
 I was received by Mr. Lyndsey as hereto- 
 fore ; he was neither depressed nor elevated ; 
 he said Mrs. Lyndsey's spirits had been giving 
 way lately ; she scolded less, but wept more, 
 and her appearance was strangely altered. 
 In due time the physician arrived, bad a long 
 interview with the lady, and announced to Mr. 
 Lyndsey, with a smiling countenance, there 
 was little doubt that in a very short time, 
 he would have an addition to his family. Mr. 
 Lyndsey did not bear this news with his ac- 
 customed fortitude — he told the doctor he 
 must be mistaken, turned red, and then really 
 white, sat down and rose up, and when he 
 found he attracted observation, suddenly en- 
 quired whether boys or girls cried most — and, 
 as the doctor did not at once reply to the
 
 A woman's story. 15 
 
 question, Mr. Lyndsey seized his arm, and 
 looked earnestly in his face ; the doctor then 
 shook his head, and said, " It depended on the 
 disposition, he must take his chance." This 
 was all that passed below ; presently Mrs. 
 Lyndsey's own maid, a poor, scared, heart- 
 broken looking creature, requested I would 
 go to her mistress, who considered me 
 *' Nobody,'' and would be glad to see me. I 
 found her in a state of considerable agitation, 
 and, as usual, her consolations were but the 
 aggravations of misfortune ; she could not 
 have believed it — she always disliked chil- 
 dren ; there was only one comfort, she might 
 not live — there was another, the child might 
 not live — there was a third, suppose she lived 
 and the child lived, it might be a boy ; then it 
 could be sent out to nurse ; on its return, for- 
 warded to school ; after it came from school, 
 to college, and when it was of age, it would 
 go abroad, or marry, or do something — and so 
 she could get rid of it altogether — that was a 
 comfort. But she should have no comfort 
 not she, she never had, never could have I 
 other people had, but not she. No, no, she
 
 16 A woman's story. 
 
 wouldn't be a bit surprised, after all, if it 
 turned out a girl, just to vex her — a little 
 messy girl, that one would be obliged to have 
 at home sometimes, or else people would talk ; 
 that would break the china, and never shut a 
 door after her, and want a maid ; and she 
 would be obliged to give up her blue dressing- 
 room for a nursery : there, that was a trial — 
 her pretty blue dressing-room ! 
 
 Fatigued with the unusual quantity of ideas 
 that had crowded into her head, she twisted 
 them all into one ; though she felt assured a 
 girl would come to vex her, still she would 
 prepare only for a boy — that was what she 
 would do ; she would get ready a basketful of 
 blue, white, and pink cockades, and white, 
 blue, and pink satin hats, nothing else — and 
 so we parted. The expected addition to Mr 
 and Mrs. Lyndsey's household was an extra- 
 ordinary stimulus to the conversational powers 
 of the inhabitants of the hamlet of Hampstead ; 
 it was ^' so unexpected,'' "so unlocked for,'' 
 " so strange," " after ten years," and '' at the 
 lady's time of life," and so forth. The three 
 maiden sisters who lived at Green Cottage, in
 
 A woman's story. 17 
 
 the swampy locality which looks so pretty, 
 and feels so damp, called the ' Vale of Health ' 
 —those three sisters stoutly declared they 
 would not believe it ; and even Mrs. Lyndsey's 
 particular friend, Mrs. Brevet-Major Cobb, 
 who, by dint of pushing and talking, had 
 established for herself the unenviable repu- 
 tation of a ' clever woman,' was positively 
 indignant, declaring, in an authoritative, unde- 
 niable tone, that if " Mrs. Lyndsey intended 
 to have a family, she should have had it at 
 once, and been done with it — that she, for 
 one, should not countenance such goings on, 
 even in her dearest friend. It would be dif- 
 ferent if she had begun in proper time ; but 
 at her age — it was too bad — what could she 
 know about a baby ! She took no interest in 
 anything living. She had the cat drowned 
 because it had kittens ; and never suffered a 
 servant to marry, because their children would 
 cry, and come to the workhouse." Mr. Lynd- 
 sey received the congratulations of the little, 
 broad, round-faced major with the air of a 
 martyr, repeating what he had said often 
 VOL. 1. C
 
 18 A woman's story. 
 
 before, and frequently afterwards — '^We are 
 all in the hands of a wise Providence ! '^ 
 
 The Cobbs in those days were great people 
 at Hampstead — very great. In the first place 
 they were reputed wealthy. They lived in a 
 large, awkward house; with an uncountable 
 number of doors, and a multitude of small 
 windows, which, if the trees that wooded in it 
 had been removed, would have commanded a 
 noble prospect ; but the major loved the trees, 
 and his lady patronised them, '■' Because," she 
 said, "they kept the^eyes of the commonalty 
 from intruding upon them in the way that 
 people of note are always intruded upon in 
 England." The major had lost a leg in India, 
 where he had spent, according to Mrs. Cobb, 
 "the flower of his youth;" and where she 
 assured me she had married him when she was 
 quite a child. I observed that she never made 
 this statement in her husband's presence, who 
 excited her ire one day, by saying, that ** she 
 certainly was, in one sense, his senior officer." 
 The major was a hot-temperfed, fiery little 
 man, with a round, red face, in which his nose 
 and small light-blue eyes were more than half
 
 A woman's story. 19 
 
 buried ; he was a great martinet, positive and 
 full of self-esteem, as short persons generally 
 are ; his voice was so shrill and sharp, and its 
 intonation so false, that when he finished a 
 sentence, which he often did without ever 
 completing the sense, you were led by the 
 sustained squeak to imagine that he only 
 paused for breath. I have looked for a con- 
 tinuance, until, in an angry tone, he would 
 exclaim — " Well, madam ! what are you wait- 
 ing for ? '^ Yet, with these personal disadvan- 
 tages, he possessed many of the fine qualities 
 of an English soldier. The major had risen 
 from the ranks, and was (much to his wife's 
 anguish) proud that he had so risen. He was 
 brave as a lion, and the unflinching heroism 
 of truth could be traced in all his words 
 and actions; he abominated what he called 
 * humbug ; ' and it was really marvellous how 
 the major and his wife continued to live to- 
 gether, differing as they did upon one or two 
 most material points. The major wished to 
 be considered a plain soldier, his wife panted 
 for the distinction of a fine lady ; he loved to 
 hear the truth, and to speak the truth, she 
 
 c2
 
 20 A woman's story. 
 
 did not care whether she was amused by truth 
 or falsehood, so long as she was amused ; and 
 as to speaking the truth, by one of the unac- 
 countable mistakes so often made, her great 
 ambition was to be considered ' a creature of 
 the imagination '—this she expected, as a 
 matter of course, from all her acquaintances. 
 ' A creature of the imagination ' — with a roll 
 of frizzed, pale hair, standing out and about a 
 heap of huge, misshapen features, hard and 
 high, the summit surmounted by a crimson or 
 yellow turban ; while a figure, tall, thin, and 
 angular, in those ' unbustled ' days, was thrust 
 into as narrow a compass as possible, so that 
 when the lady walked, or rather tramped, 
 along the road, her steps extended her dress 
 to its full dimensions. It was exceedingly 
 ludicrous to see Mrs. Brevet and her husband 
 setting out for ^ morning parade,' as he called 
 his walk on the heath ; at first they went ofi" 
 in regular matrimonial fashion, she stooping 
 on one side to take his arm, and he erect and 
 stiff", making the most of his inches, stumping 
 along right valiantly ; then, after the first 
 pause to inhale the air and look at the land-
 
 A woman's story. 21 
 
 scape, Mrs Brevet would start forward, the 
 feathers in her hat streaming like a pennon 
 during her quick march of about fifty yards, 
 when she would suddenly halt, and then face 
 about and meet the little man, only to leave 
 him again behind ; everybody laughed at 
 them, and though the lady's presumption and 
 bad tact annoyed her neighbours, still it would 
 have been difficult to get on well with- 
 out *the Indians of Haverstock Hall.' The 
 lady was universally known as ' Mrs. Brevet,' 
 from a little domestic ' squabble ' that once 
 took place between her and her husband in 
 * the Library,' as the small book and stationer's 
 shop of the village was called. The military 
 couple had been waited on, at their residence, 
 by the long, pale man of books, who, being, 
 unfortunately, only a retail dealer in human 
 intellect, and not a publisher thereof, had 
 never managed to increase either in pocket or 
 person, and Mrs. Cobb assured him, with a 
 condescending nod of her scarlet turban, that 
 she would certainly patronize him. Accord- 
 ingly, after the various Indian packages had 
 been opened, and the house decked out with
 
 22 A woman's story 
 
 china, and living and dead birds, and mats, 
 and gongs, and various implements of war, 
 and cases of butterflies, smelling of camphor, 
 and tiger skins (Mrs. Brevet said the tigers 
 had all been shot by her husband, only he did 
 not like it mentioned), the worthy couple 
 sallied forth to the library for the purpose of 
 having their cards printed. 
 
 '^ In large letters, if you please, sir, fine 
 large letters," said the lady, " with the ad- 
 dress underneath, upon a flag, or something 
 pretty of the kind, indicating the Major's pro- 
 fession." 
 
 ^^ Would you like Eoman letters, madam ?" 
 inquired the librarian. 
 
 '^ No, sir, cer-tain-ly not ; English letters, 
 sir, large and commanding, with ' Haverstock 
 Hall,' on a flag, underneath." 
 
 '^ Shall I take down the name exactly, or 
 would you write it, madam ?" 
 
 " No, you write it — Mrs. Major Cobb." 
 
 Her husband, who had been waiting at the 
 door, turned round abruptly. 
 
 *' No, madam, that won't do, no tricks with 
 the Army List, no false colours at the Horse 
 Guards, I am not full Major."
 
 A woman's story. 23 
 
 '^But you are called Major!" 
 
 ^' By courtesy : I am only Brevet-Major." 
 
 " But one can't put thai on a card, sir," re- 
 plied the lady, "you really are very foolish : 
 everyone calls you Major." 
 
 "Then let it be plain Mrs. Cobb." 
 
 " And sink my position ? No ! I've gone 
 through too much for it," she answered, tossing 
 her feathers. 
 
 " Then , madam, I say, if you must have a 
 title, let it be a true one — Mrs Brevet- 
 Major Cobb." 
 
 She would not hear of this, but stalked out 
 of the shop, leaving the shopkeeper pen in 
 hand, while one or two other attendant cus- 
 tomers regretted that " the fun " was so soon 
 over : in the evening the bookseller received a 
 note, directing him to print the cards Mrs. B. 
 Major Cobb ; and thus, by a skilful manceuvre, 
 the Major had, to a certain degree, his own way 
 which, I have observed, is generally quite as 
 much as any married man can accomplish. 
 Mrs. Brevet had been born in Ireland — a cir- 
 cumstance she concealed with extraordinary 
 precaution ; and truly, if her tongue had not
 
 24 A woman's story. 
 
 betrayed her, she might have led most persons 
 to believe she had never breathed the air of 
 the Emerald Isle, for she took up every pre- 
 judice against the unfortunate country with 
 the determination of a zealot ; and this was the 
 great point of sympathy between her and Mrs. 
 Lyndsey — they both entertained the greatest 
 dislike to the old groom, simply because he 
 was Irish. The small world of Hampstead 
 had many other denizens, revolving in the 
 same circle with the Cobbs and the Lyndseys 
 — several lawyers and their families, one or 
 two men of letters, a few merchants, and some 
 who occupied good situations in public offices. 
 The rector was respected, according to the old 
 phrase, by rich and poor, high and low ; he 
 was personally beloved, so that the parish 
 church was crowded, while those whose faith 
 led that way, went quietly to the Dissenting 
 chapel, without vaunting their own hohness, 
 or undervaluing the church-going of their 
 neighbours; one of many proofs I have ob- 
 tained through life that, in nine cases out of 
 ten, it is dislike to the clergymen, and not to 
 the church that keeps so large a portion of
 
 A woman's story. 25 
 
 this Protestant country without the church 
 porch. He was a truly good man, that Mr. 
 Mathias, visiting the sick, feeding the hungry, 
 clothing the naked, and performing the still 
 more difficult deeds of neighbourly love, by 
 healing those little wounds of society, so prone 
 to increase as often to endanger soul and body, 
 made at first by heedless tongues, or heedless 
 actions, by words lightly spoken, or courtesies 
 neglected, or, still worse, by words spoken in 
 bitterness, and repeated by malice and envy, 
 and, perhaps as frequently by people who 
 having no legitimate employment, make their 
 tongues do more than tongues ought ever to 
 undertake or be expected to perform. In 
 truth, our good rector had but one fault, and, 
 sad to say, it was one that became worse and 
 worse daily ; he was old, even at the time I 
 write of, and it seemed vain to look abroad for 
 one who could be what, for thirty years, he 
 had been. Mrs. Cobb yielded to his influence, 
 and even Mrs. Lyndsey, with all her grumb- 
 lings, confessed he was a man sure to make 
 one think too favourably of the world, and 
 therefore it was well he was breaking so fast.
 
 26 A woman's story. 
 
 There were several noble, aristocratic houses 
 in the neighbourhood, towards which we 
 usually pointed as we passed the entrance 
 gates, saying, *' my Lord This," or '^ Lady 
 That,'' lived there ; but we never saw their 
 inhabitants except at church, and they held no 
 intercourse with the less influential dwellers of 
 the heath, and valley — sweeping, in their 
 stately and well-appointed equipages, past the 
 humble ' one horse shay,' lofty curricle, or 
 pretty pony carriage of their as happy, but 
 less elevated, neighbours. 
 
 Such people gave, we thought, great dig- 
 nity to Hampstead, and whenever we read 
 their names or doings in the Court Circular, it 
 might be that we held our heads a little 
 higher, and talked of our neighbour's ^pre- 
 sentation ' or ^ dress ' at the Drawing-room 
 with a borrowed consequence. There were 
 individuals in our own circle who panted 
 eagerly to be received, or even noticed by 
 these courtly ones — I could hardly tell why, 
 and fear at times I was even uncharitable in 
 my unspoken censures of those who set so 
 high a Value on ' my Lady's ' smile, or ^ my
 
 A woman's story. 27 
 
 Lord's' bow; who preserved a stray visiting 
 card, impressed with a noble name, dusting it 
 carefully, cleaning it, at least twice a-year, 
 with India-rubber, and placing it on the top 
 of the card basket— or who repeated what he 
 bad often heard before, that, by special per- 
 mission, they had the privilege of walking in 
 the grounds of Hollymount, never adding, 
 ^ during the family's absence ) yet — and 
 here let me pause a moment to say how useful 
 self-examination is, how charitable we are 
 made by diving into our own hearts, and how 
 ashamed we ought thereby to be at our own 
 short-comingF ; — this finding out of oneselfi if * 
 not capital sport, is an excellent lesson, and 
 one which it is wise to practise at all con- 
 venient opportunities — an admirable mode of 
 employing the odds and ends of time. I had 
 left Mrs. Brevet-Major Cobb rubbing away on 
 the worn-out cards of a general, a rajah, and 
 a Lady Caroline Macnab, and, while I wan- 
 dered up the hill, was indulging the most 
 quiet and sly smile you can imagine at her 
 vanity, which, as I was ^nobody,' she had 
 not taken the trouble to conceal from me,
 
 28 A woman's story. 
 
 when one of our neighbour's stately carriages 
 passed ; the lady pulled the check, and waving 
 her hand to me, I had what seemed a very 
 familiar chat with her for full five minutes. 
 I was pleased that the Misses Saunders, of 
 the Yale of Health, the inhabitants of the 
 Green Cottage, saw me. I could perceive 
 them turning round and watching, whispering, 
 and calculating as to what we were talking 
 about ; going a few yards on, they crossed the 
 road and turned back, so that after the car- 
 riage drove on, I met them ; it was with a 
 very foolish uplifting of mind that I returned 
 Miss Griselda's curtsey, and held out ray hand 
 to Miss Jane. At last the elder of the two 
 observed she had seen me talking to Lady 
 Evelyn — she did not know that I was ac- 
 quainted with her ladyship. I smiled, but did 
 not tell her the fact, that our stately neigh- 
 bour had only spoken of the nature of a cloth- 
 ing society we had established, and of which 
 she wanted to know the particulars, taking a 
 very strange time to do so. When I came to 
 think this over, my better self became ashamed 
 of my other self, particularly when I remem-
 
 A woman's story. 29 
 
 bered how I had, in my own mind, sneered at 
 the poor lady, Mrs. Brevet-Major, who had 
 never been disciplined as I had been, or, per- 
 haps, been taught to think ; so, after musing 
 upon my own littleness and ill-nature, I set 
 myself a penance — it was to visit the Green 
 Cottage before I slept, and tell the ladies 
 why Lady Evelyn had spoken to me on the 
 hill. I remember this little circumstance so 
 well, because, on my homeward walk, I met 
 Jerry, returning from my house, where he had 
 been to communicate the news that Mrs. 
 Lyndsey had presented her husband with a 
 daughter ; and, he added, '' the nurse, ma'am, 
 desired me to say that it hasn't cried much ; 
 and sure that puts me in mind of a story, 
 only I hav'n't time to tell it now — for running 
 about, as I am, the poor bastes in the stable 
 hav'n't had a feed of oats this blessed day ; 
 and I was told to leave word everywhere, 
 that the missis, and the baby, and the masther, 
 were as well as could be expected." 
 
 I never recal those earlier scenes of Helen's 
 life without a memory of the poor Irish 
 groom ; he stands out before my mind's eye
 
 30 A woman's story. 
 
 in bold relief, like an awkward gurgoil on some 
 time-honoured building — a quaint, grotesque, 
 unbeautiful thing — yet a thing to be remem- 
 bered of itself, and for itself. I felt assured 
 he was wound up, in some way, with the 
 thread of Mr. Lyndsey's early life ; and that 
 Mrs. Lyndsey hated him chiefly on that 
 account, covering her hatred with the sem- 
 blance of terror at the effects of the ' evil eye / 
 — those narrow-minded, small-souled women 
 are so cunning ! 
 
 I have all my life had the habit of recalling 
 at night the events of the day, thinking over 
 and jotting down whatever occurred to me. 
 Strangers may glance coldly over such notes : 
 so be it 1 but they have sometimes been pro- 
 phetic, and, at all events, I like to travel 
 back with them to the past; I feel my book of 
 memories would be incomplete without them. 
 I shall do this often, I trust, without wearying 
 those who read.
 
 31 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " We look before and after, 
 
 And pine for what is not ; 
 
 Our sincerest laughter 
 
 With some pain is fraught ; 
 
 Our sweetest songs are those which tell of saddest 
 
 thought ! " 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 The allotted month of Mrs. Lyndsey's seclu- 
 sion was a period of most unheard-of tran- 
 quillity in her domestic circle ; to her husband 
 it must have been a time of positive content- 
 ment. He rode to Change Alley as often as 
 he pleased ; he dined at the Jerusalem Coffee- 
 house, and even went to see Mrs. Siddons in 
 what may be called the ' last days ' of Lady 
 Macbeth, and no one found fault with him ;
 
 32 A woman's story. 
 
 he might stay as long as he liked in the 
 stables, and there was no one to chide his 
 delay. Jerry became altogether a different 
 person ; his mistress was not in the way to 
 insult him ; he held up his head, and walked 
 into the kitchen, and, standing with his back 
 to the fire, even maintained a dispute with 
 the cook touching the boiling of potatoes, just 
 as if he, too, were an in-door servant ! Then, 
 whenever he went through the village, every- 
 body stopped him, and asked him questions, 
 and listened to his replies ; or to the stories 
 he was fond of telling — apropos of everything 
 and nothing. Servants invariably become im- 
 portant during the period of muffled knockers^ 
 caudle, and * kind inquiries ;' but poor Jerry 
 had never been important on the heath before, 
 and seemed resolved to make the most of it. 
 " They are all wishing this thing, and that 
 thing, and the other thing," he said, " for the 
 little dawshy darling, which puts me in mind 
 of a story I heard once about a baby — a little 
 heiress, as this will be ; it was a vision came 
 to the mother, and she lay thinking of all the 
 wishes herself and other people made for her
 
 A WOMAN S STORY. 33 
 
 child ; and so she fell asleep, and thought how 
 one had wished her child wit, and another 
 beauty, and another learning, and another 
 riches, and another a great duke for a hus- 
 band ; and the time had passed away un- 
 know^nst, and the child was a woman, and the 
 mother saw her beautiful face all soaked in 
 tears ; and there was a crowd of people, with 
 bleeding hearts, pointing and gibing at her, 
 and they said she had wounded them with her 
 bright, sharp words ; and her fingers, all co- 
 vered with jewels, turned over the leaves of 
 books in all languages, and though she sat in 
 a chair of diamonds, with the globe for a 
 footstool, there was no happiness about her, 
 only sad trouble; and, though she was the 
 greatest beauty that ever the sun shone upon, 
 yet her husband was far away with other loves, 
 having no heart-love for her. 
 
 ^^ And her poor mother bowed her head 
 over her : and ' Mother ' darling,' she says, 
 ' why didn't you wish at the first that I should 
 have God's grace, and then I couldn't be the 
 mourning creature I am ; that's wanting to me 
 in all things, so it is. And if I had it, I'd have 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 A woman's story. 
 
 all things ; whether 1 had all other things or no 
 to the sight, I'd feel I'd have them : and it's 
 a want of understanding not to make it the 
 first wish to any poor baby that enters this 
 sinful world.' Now look straight at the great 
 sense of that blessed dream/' persisted Jerry ; 
 " the lady awoke, and there was her little in- 
 nocent infant smiling on her arm, and she 
 prayed hard and fast that it might have God's 
 GRACE ; and so it had, and grew up a beauty, 
 and all the other things, and as happy as forty 
 queens. So when I saw the little darling riz 
 in the nurse's arms at the window, I fell to 
 praying the Lord to mark her to grace, and so 
 he will I hope ; and that's my wish for her, 
 poor darlint." 
 
 When Mrs. Lyndsey recovered her astonish- 
 ment at finding herself in a new position, the 
 real mother of a living baby, she drew abun- 
 dant discomfort from the birth of a daughter. 
 I could hardly believe that this heartlessness 
 was real, it seemed impossible for a woman to 
 be so unnatural ; but her selfishness overpowered 
 every other sensation — the child was in her 
 way. Mr. Lyndsey seemed a changed man —
 
 A woman's story. 35 
 
 and yet so strangely changed. He kept re- 
 peating between his teeth — " poor baby " — 
 — " poor little innocent '' — ^' poor, poor 
 baby;" — and though he did not resent, 
 as I thought he should have done, his 
 wife's neglect of the child — for she wished it 
 to be nursed out of the house — still, either 
 from a sort of half sleepy opposition, or some 
 new-sprung and unacknowledged tenderness, 
 Mr. Lyndsey forgot the noise, and insisted 
 upon the engagement of a nurse. The doctor 
 was fortunate in his selection, and the child 
 throve apace ; in a few months it became a 
 perfect model of beautiful babyhood ; but its 
 temper was violent, though the paroxysms of 
 wilfulness were neither frequent nor of long 
 continuance. The nurse was not slow to dis- 
 cover the mother's want of natural affection ; 
 she therefore sought to conceal rather than to 
 overcome the defects of the child. ■ One day 
 Mr. Lyndsey heard it crying, and inquired the 
 cause of the noise ; the nurse affirmed that 
 little miss wanted something very unfit for her 
 to have. 
 
 " Let her have it, by all means," said the 
 
 D 2
 
 36 A woman's story. 
 
 father ; ^^ anything is better than that dreadful 
 wailing." 
 
 " Although that baby is an ill-tempered 
 little vixen/' observed Mrs. Lyndsey, " if you 
 did not treat her cruelly, she would not cry 
 in that violent way." 
 
 The nurse conceived herself obliged to pacify 
 the baby by yielding to all her wishes, which 
 she did ; and this was Helen Lyndsey's first 
 triumph. And let no one smile at this as a 
 victory of little consequence ; it is a leading 
 point for the future. The little creature, 
 though violent and excitable, was gentle and 
 affectionate as the fondest mother's heart could 
 have desired when the paroxysm was over ; 
 repentant too, if, in her anger, she had slapped 
 her nurse, or inflicted angry looks on any one: 
 apprehensive, and showing, when not eighteen 
 months old, a decided aversion to her mother's 
 presence ; caresses she had never offered to 
 her child, beyond the cold kiss on Helen's high 
 and expansive forehead ' when there was com- 
 pany,' and the child's beauty had been strongly 
 commended, and it was pretty to evince some- 
 thing like maternal tenderness. But it was
 
 A woman's story. 37 
 
 evident the little maid loved her father ; she 
 would crow and stretch out her hands to him 
 whenever he divided his attention between her 
 and the brown cob ; truth to tell, he became 
 as frequent a visitor to the nursery as to the 
 stable. And, next, Helen evinced a strong 
 partiality for Jerry. The window of the dres- 
 sing-room, converted, as Mrs. Lyndsey had 
 predicted, into a nursery, overlooked the stable- 
 yard, and Jerry, despite his bowed legs, would 
 dance and caper for the " little darlint," so as 
 to give her extreme delight. She would 
 watch for him, express much annoyance at his 
 delay, and, when at last he came, scream and 
 spring with pleasure. This partiality, as the 
 child grew older and fond of talking, became 
 known to Mrs. Lyndsey, who mingled cun- 
 ning and folly together, and appeared to have 
 seized the idea that all Irishmen had evil eyes, 
 and that Jerry's eye was not only especially 
 evil, but that its evil influence was particularly 
 directed against her child. She therefore 
 ordered the window panes to be painted over, 
 and when Helen, as usual, made her way to 
 the window, climbed on the chair to look at
 
 38 A woman's story. 
 
 her favourite, and could see nothing, in one of 
 her paroxysms of temper she seized a pink 
 china shepherdess and flung it through the 
 glass. While shouting with joy at her exploit, 
 she did not see her mother enter, until she felt 
 the blow which struck her down. Poor child ! 
 it was a sad earnest of after mismanagement 
 and cruelty, of outbreaks that were redeemed 
 by no softness or kindness of disposition, and 
 of the practice of that which children suffer so 
 much from in this world — injustice. Parents 
 would, I have thought, be frequently shocked 
 if they paused to consider the iniquity of their 
 injustice towards their offspring, not perhaps 
 in great matters, but in the small, daily occur- 
 rences of actual life. How often is the child 
 punished for crying, without investigating the 
 cause of its tears ; how frequently do we vent 
 upon a child the temper which sheer cowardice 
 averts from a companion ! We punish the 
 child for untruths, while we practice before it 
 the ^ got up ' courtesies, and all the habitual 
 falsehoods of society ; we lack the commonest 
 patience in our teaching, expecting the seed we 
 sow to produce immediately, and all soils to
 
 A woman's story. 39 
 
 yield an equally abundant harvest, . forgetting 
 that one child is born to smiles and another to 
 shadows, and that it is quite impossible to edu- 
 cate two children exactly on the same plan, 
 and absurd to expect equal excellence in all 
 things from both. 
 
 We bestow unnecessary pains on the clever 
 and the quick, while we neglect the dull, slow 
 child, who more especially needs culture — for- 
 getting that the moral faculties, the faculties 
 of our better nature, are probably in greater 
 perfection in the calm than in the brilliant 
 mind ; we embitter the innocent and happy 
 time of youth, and force it into maturity before 
 its strength is equal to the struggles of ad- 
 vanced years ; we are unjust to our children 
 in a hundred ways before they leave the pro- 
 tection of our roofs for the more flagrant in- 
 justice of the school, and we continue so, from 
 a want of the valuable habit of self-examina- 
 tion, quite unconscious, or, it may be, culpably 
 careless, of the sufferings we inflict, and of 
 their probable results. After a time, the gene- 
 rality of boys fight against injustice, either 
 openly or secretly, according to their tempera-
 
 40 A woman's story. 
 
 ments and circumstances ; but girls, with few 
 exceptions, though they outwardly submit, 
 become suspicious of those parents who, from 
 not entering into their characters, and study- 
 ing their natures, have treated them unjustly; 
 thus arises the secrecy and mistrust which 
 parents so frequently complain of, where heart 
 should be open to heart, and where to feel and 
 to confide would be from child to parent one 
 and the same thing. Whenever we act un- 
 justly, in thought or deed, we secure to our- 
 selves a certain and sorrowful retribution. 
 Mrs. Lyndsey had been warned more than once 
 by our good clergyman that she mismanaged 
 Helen ; and I never forgot the look with 
 which the little creature regarded her 
 mother when she scrambled up from the floor, 
 after the first dreadful blow I witnessed, and 
 folded herself into my cloak — not sobbing, as 
 children sob in general, but heaving and swel- 
 ling with pain and anger. " Why should she 
 look at Jerry ? " inquired the mother, " she is 
 my child, and she shall do what I desire. 
 The Irish have an evil eye ; I have read in 
 books that they have ; and Jerry is Irish, and
 
 A woman's story. 41 
 
 has the evil eye, that he has ! and his looking 
 so much at Helen makes her wilful, and dislike 
 me so ; I know it is that, and nothing else : 
 it's Jerry's evil eye, and I'll have him sent 
 away." 
 
 "He shan't go," said Helen, stoutly. 
 
 "There's the evil eye again," said Mrs. 
 Lyndsey, " and I'll insist upon him being 
 turned away without a character, except for 
 an evil eye, I will, that I will, as soon as ever 
 Mr. Lyndsey comes from town , and I am 
 sure all Mrs. Brevet and Major Cobb say of 
 him is quite true ; and the Irish are all the 
 same in that respect. The major says they 
 were the plague of the army, except on the 
 field of battle — they fought there, and always 
 conquered —that was because they are so 
 naturally fond of fighting, you know." 
 
 " Or, perhaps," 1 said, quietly, " they 
 looked on the enemy with their evil eyeT 
 
 a Yery true, indeed, I should not wonder in 
 the least if they did ! I never thought of that 
 before — it's very likely — how else should they 
 manage, poor starved creatures, you know ? 
 and as to you, nurse, if you permit that man
 
 42 A woman's story. 
 
 to look at that child, you shall lose your situa- 
 tion, that you shall ; and as I consider her 
 tempers to be entirely your fault, if she is not 
 broken of them, Til send you away, whether 
 or no, that I certainly will, for as Mrs. Brevet- 
 Major Cobb says " — and then she returned to 
 Jerry, and the evil eye, and poured forth a 
 tide of nonsense ; while, having crept round 
 me until she got opposite the door, Helen 
 walked sulkily out, followed by her maid, who 
 loved the child too well to hear of being sepa- 
 rated from her without tears. 
 
 Helen grew more rapidly in mind than in 
 body, frequently punished, very much admired, 
 and treated by her mother with fitful unkind- 
 ness — fitful, because it went from one species of 
 unkindness to another, according to her caprice; 
 and all the while she was injudiciously fondled 
 by her father. Months passed away, slowly 
 enough with me, for I had a severe illness, fol- 
 lowed by weakness and a depression of spirits 
 more difiicult to combat than illness itself; 
 summer and winter succeeded each other, and 
 at last I was prevailed on to promise to 
 leave my house, to spend some time with Mr.
 
 A woman's story. 43 
 
 / 
 
 and Mrs. Middleton, at what was then an 
 obscure sea-side village, called Little Hamp- 
 ton, on the Sussex coast, not far from the 
 stately castle of Arundel. Mrs. Middleton 
 was Mr. Lyndsey's youngest sister ; she had 
 married a gentleman of moderate fortune, 
 but she was indeed a fortune to him. Mrs. 
 Middleton was different in almost every 
 respect from her brother ; in person, lovely, 
 rather than beautiful, with just enough wit 
 and woman's playful humour to save her 
 from insipidity ; an even temper, seldom 
 ruffled, aud quick to subside ; a most affec- 
 tionate and unselfish nature, and a high and 
 fixed estimate of all things that the mind 
 should be made up upon, so as to move 
 steadily through life ; her piety had been 
 rightly directed by her father, who lived to 
 see her happily married, and then died full of 
 age and honours. She was essentially bene- 
 volent, and would have been more generally 
 so, if her observation and action had enjoyed 
 a more extensive field than a limited circle 
 permits. I am not speaking of what is com- 
 monly called charity — giving food and raiment
 
 44 A woman's story. 
 
 — I mean the benevolence that is slow to 
 impute evil intentions even to the sinner, that 
 seeks to make allowance for those whose prac- 
 tice is opposed to our own, and that sympa- 
 thizes after the model of our blessed Leader 
 and Lawgiver, with those who err — hoping to 
 save them from after error. Sometimes Mrs. 
 Middleton would be a little severe in her 
 spoken judgments; she knew nothing of the 
 temptations of sin, or of folly, having been 
 hedged in, during girlhood, by a watchful 
 father's duty, and afterwards by a husband's 
 as watchful love ; she would sometimes, as 
 I have said, speak severely, but her heart 
 contradicted the words of her lips — so that 
 her Heavenly Master's example was sure 
 to guide her actions : thus, unlike world- 
 lings, her deeds were often sweeter than her 
 words. 
 
 Most fortunately for my friends, they married 
 before the w-orld had hardened the one into 
 the flintness of old bachelorhood, or tainted 
 the other with the desire for a ' suitable estab- 
 lishment,' or the resolve to be married for the 
 sake of the position which is ceded only to a 
 married lady.
 
 A woman's story. 45 
 
 Their means were sufficiently large to in- 
 sure them comfort, and what they considered 
 all reasonable luxuries. And if this had 
 not been the case, they loved each other well 
 enough to brave the worst that could come to 
 those who, sustained by each other's affection, 
 could endure anything — except separation ; 
 thus, it will easily be believed, they enjoyed to 
 the fullest the implicit faith and trust in each 
 other which the early wed alone can truly 
 enjoy. The morning of their young lives had 
 been spent together in an abounding happi- 
 ness, which was too pure and too real to, be 
 affected by ordinary means ; it was unalloyed 
 by a grain of self-reproach, and their habits, 
 tastes, feelings, sympathies, had grown on to- 
 gether ; they read the same books, strength- 
 ened their minds with the same prose, en- 
 livened and enriched it with the same poetry, 
 and yet the difference of their natures — the 
 strength of his temperament, and the gentle- 
 ness and uplooldng of hers — prevented their 
 being insipid either to each other or to their 
 friends ; it was a beautiful union, a delicious 
 example of the purity and holiness of wedded
 
 46 A woman's story. 
 
 life ; it was a very happiness in itself to see 
 this happy woman growing wiser in her hus- 
 band's wisdom, having nothing to conceal, and 
 looking up to him with the highest of all 
 earthly reverences, second only to that she 
 felt for THE highest power. No one could 
 think of drawing a comparison between them, 
 both were charming in their several spheres ; 
 and the more so, because af the absence of all 
 rivalry. And yet Mrs. Lyndsey manifested a 
 greater degree of energetic dislike to Mr. and 
 Mrs. Middleton than she did towards any 
 mere acquaintance ; she was pettish, and fac- 
 tious, and fault-finding, both by nature and 
 habit, but she hated Mrs. Middleton with a 
 confirmed bitterness. Mrs. Lyndsey had been 
 elevated by her marriage, and regarded those 
 who knew her in her days of obscurity as if 
 they were prepared to do her an injury. Sisters- 
 in-law, I have observed, are seldom sisters- 
 in-love ; their interests almost invariably clash. 
 Educated on different principles, frequently in 
 a different sphere, having preconceived opinions 
 on both material and immaterial points, 
 strangers by birth, they are suddenly made
 
 A woman's story. 47 
 
 relations by law ; and the human mind is 
 prone to rebel against a tie which a continu- 
 ance of misunderstanding hardens into a yoke ; 
 a host of petty feelings and small jealousies 
 spring into existence, especially amongst 
 women, against it ; and formal civilities, the 
 interchange of ^ calls ' and ^ dinners/ deno- 
 minated ' friendly/ to conceal a want of at- 
 tention on the part of the giver to the comfort 
 of the invited, lengthen either into a puppet- 
 show ceremonial, gone through at stated times, 
 — or terminate in a quarrel too bitter and de- 
 termined to admit of being healed, except, 
 perhaps, upon a death-bed, where a dread of 
 the future, of the just judgments i^iseparable 
 from the future, forces us to look back upon 
 the past, and so covet a cowardly peace-making 
 — which, in all probability, were health and hu- 
 man strength restored, would lapse into the old 
 bitterness, at variance with the law of God and 
 the best laws of life and peace. It would have 
 been quite impossible so to ^ manage ' as to be 
 friends with both Mrs. Lyndsey and Mrs. 
 Middleton. I had know Mr. Lyndsey for 
 some years ; and I had been the playmate of
 
 48 A woman's story. 
 
 his sister ; she had often entreated me to 
 ' keep friends ' with her brother, as I was the 
 only link not severed between them. It is 
 not possible for a lady to receive the husband 
 and not the wife, and I found I got on with 
 Mrs. Lyndsey as well as others, very much 
 better than the best 'managers,' simply by 
 saying little, but taking care that that little 
 was the truth, though occasionally, perhaps, 
 not the whole truth ; this system secures both 
 safety and self-respect- 
 Mrs. Lyndsey would sometimes, clinging to 
 her one idea, grow very angry with me sud- 
 denly, but, remembering the circumscribed 
 range of her intellect, I always felt compas- 
 sion for her that God had given her so little, 
 and answered quietly — rather in proportion 
 to her folly than my own strength — never 
 moving a hair's breadth from what I considered 
 right — and then leaving her for days or weeks, 
 as it might be, to herself, and meeting her 
 either by chance, or when she called, as if we 
 had only parted the day before. 
 
 When I told her I was to set off for Hamp- 
 ton Lodge the next morning, she put her
 
 A woman's story. 49 
 
 handkerchief to her eyes, and said, " I might 
 have spared her the pain of saying I was going 
 to her enemy, and suffered her to hear it from 
 others ;'' and concluded by hoping 1 would 
 not forget to tell my friend that Helen "quite 
 inherited the Lyndsey temper." 
 
 I answered, that 1 made it a rule never to 
 retail the faults of children, and that both Mr. 
 Lyndsey and his sister had remarkably sweet 
 tempers ; then she flew out, and asked if I 
 thought Helen inherited her ' temper.' 
 
 I replied, " I hope not," and finding I had 
 dropped a stitch in my knitting, I walked to 
 the window to take it up. This would have 
 given time for reflection to anyone wdth com- 
 mon sense, yet she took no advantage of the 
 pause, but continued in the same strain. 
 
 " I only hope Mrs. Middleton may hear of 
 the handsome tea-service, urn and all, my 
 brother Jacob left me, with the family arms on 
 the shield.'^ She paused, and looked towards 
 me, but I offered no observation. " Our family 
 arms on pure silver, none of your plated 
 goods, genteel beggary, got-up finery, but 
 real, downright, positive out-and-out silver, 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 A WOMA?^ S STORY. 
 
 solid as a rock, silver all through, inside and 
 outside ! Td submit, that I would, to have 
 her company to tea, just to mortify her with 
 the sight, that I would ! " 
 
 Still I made no reply, but rolled up my 
 knitting, and stuck my needles into the ball, 
 "And," she continued, '* I should be glad to 
 know if her little girl, her Florence — Flo- 
 rence 1 the heathenism of that ! and the con- 
 ceit, to give her an outlandish name — such a 
 disrespect to the Marys, and Mauds, and 
 Helens of the dear departed family, — if her 
 Florence is better dressed than my child, or 
 prettier, or half as clever. I do hope Helen 
 may be a beauty, and clever, just to spite her, 
 and rival her fine Florence ! She had so many 
 too — the indelicacy of women having so many 
 children, just like rabbits ! — yet hers are all 
 gone but one ; we'll see which child will make 
 the greatest noise in the world. I pray, night 
 and day, that my child may be something 
 wonderful, something remarkable, A star, just 
 to outshine hers. If it wasn't for that ! — and 
 I don't mind who knows it — but if it wasn't 
 for that, I'd not care a straw how Helen
 
 A WOMAN S STORY. 51 
 
 turned out. And now you are tying on your 
 bonnet to go away, leaving me a prey to my 
 maternal feelings ; you, and your friend, Mr. 
 Mathias, have spoken to me before now of my 
 want of interest in my child, and, when I tell 
 you what I have determined her to be, you 
 tie on your bonnet." 
 
 " I perceive no maternal affection or feeling 
 in what you have said," I replied. 
 
 " No ! I shall spend every pound we have 
 on her accomplishments, and I shall take care 
 to instil into her mind, that if she does not 
 distance Miss Florence in everything, she 
 shall be no child of mine ! " 
 
 " And you call sowing the seed of envy and 
 hatred in your child's mind a proof of maternal 
 affection?" I observed, looking, as I felt, 
 highly indignant; and then when I saw no 
 gleam of understanding in her weak and irri- 
 table countenance, nothing but an expression 
 of dull, senseless venom, I turned away with a 
 disgust and contempt which the most resolute 
 silence could alone control from finding vent 
 in words. T pinned and unpinned my shawl, 
 and fastened and unfastened my bonnet, so as 
 
 e2 
 
 U OF ILL V^
 
 52 A woman's story. 
 
 to give myself time to cool, and Mrs. Lyndsey 
 time to think ; but she pursued her comments 
 upon the cruelty of my telling her, ^ with my 
 own lips,' that I was going to Hampton Lodge, 
 and bade me * good morning ' with her hand- 
 kerchief to her eyes. 
 
 The next day, about noon, as 1 was count- 
 ing my parcels, and my maid was arranging 
 with the post-boy as to the placing of a trunk 
 — Little Hampton being in those times a two 
 days' journey from town — up rode Jerry on his 
 lean grey horse, leading the brown cob. It 
 was evident he had left his master at the 
 counting-house, and was returning home. 
 
 Jerry dismounted, and, assuming an air of 
 mingled mystery and importance, said he 
 wished to speak to me. I perceived he was 
 encumbered with a large parcel, which seemed 
 dropping to pieces 
 
 " The masther, ma'am, charged me to give 
 ye these things to take to Miss Florence; just 
 little remembrances, as he bid me to say, from 
 Miss Helen to her cousin, and never to mind 
 letting on a word about them — at home — toys, 
 you see, to amuse the young lady."
 
 A WOMAN S STORY. 53 
 
 " And who selected them ?" I enquired, 
 while looking in dismay at the heap of whips, 
 and dogs, and horses of various kinds, which 
 Jerry displayed with infinite parade, and 
 knowing that one of his rambling discourses 
 would be sure to follow. 
 
 ^^ I did!" he exclaimed. ^^The masther, 
 God bless him, gave me two guineas, to buy 
 what I liked for the jewel that I never set 
 eyes on, and never may — glory be to God ! 
 and sure it would be only nature in her to take 
 to the horses ; and now, may be, you'll be so 
 good as to think of it, ma'am, here's the very 
 moral of the brown cob, only it is spotted, and 
 here's my own grey, barring the tail ; they 
 might make them a dale better than they do, 
 but still the horses might keep her in mind of 
 her uncle, and it's ill letting love go to the bad 
 intirely among relations ; they ought to love 
 one another, not to be all as one as the animals 
 that have no souls, and so needn't care who 
 they meet in another world ; it's a mighty 
 foolish thing to keep giving the young ladies 
 nothing but allyblaster dolls, as if they'd have 
 nothing in the wide world to do but nurse
 
 54 A woman's story. 
 
 babbies all the days of their life. I like to see 
 a lady understand the virtues and ways of a 
 horse. My old masther — " 
 
 " I have not time for a story now, Jerry/' 
 I said, " but I will take the toys, and I am 
 sure Mrs. Middleton will bear in mind who 
 selected them for Florence." 
 
 ^^ I wouldn't mind asking the masther for a 
 holiday, and travelling to see her ; and if you 
 plase, ma'am, as I know its all known to you, 
 don't let on the way I'm treated by the mis- 
 tress, don't ; Miss Emma, that's Mrs. Middle- 
 ton, minds how much her honoured father 
 thought of me, and how I used to carry her 
 about when she was learning to walk, and 
 how, if she was wanted, the cry was, ' Oh, 
 she's with Jerry, she's always safe with Jerry ;' 
 little thinking I should ever be looked down 
 on, by one, God forgive me, who's blood's 
 nothing but dirty wather, and who hasn't the 
 heart to think that any one else has a heart. 
 I'm forced to look at my masther's own child 
 through the kay-hole ; think of the cruelty of 
 that ! through the kay-hole ! and I try to 
 strengthen my heart agin her, and keep on
 
 A WOMAN S STORY. 55 
 
 never minding her, but its no use, the minute 
 I hear her innocent tongue, it's all over with 
 me, for I've been used to young things all my 
 life, and never fancy the stable half so much, 
 as when Fan, the baste, has a litter of puppies, 
 and fine ones they are this time ; and young 
 rabbits, I like to feel them hopping over my 
 feet, indeed Vd put up with a young rat 
 sooner, than have nothing young about me — 
 only don't, lady dear, don't let her know I'm 
 in any trouble, though it's often my heart is 
 breaking through the mistress, and that 
 thramphing Mrs Brevet-Major Cobb — Major 
 enagh ! and me, too, that knows the cabin she 
 was born in * but that's neither here nor there, 
 neither meal nor malt, and I'd never go against 
 anyone elevating themselves, if so be that 
 they don't turn nature altogether out of their 
 bosoms — that's what I look to ; next to the 
 Almighty, is the nature which he gave us, to 
 love one another, specially those that are of 
 the same blood, the same faction, you under- 
 stand me ; to be upright to that, sure I'd die 
 rather than let on to anyone that a masther of 
 mine was unhappy or uncomfortable in himself
 
 56 A woman's story. 
 
 about anything. And as to the thrifle of 
 whips, children wear them out mighty fast. 
 I remember, when masther was a boy, and to 
 see him now, no one would ever believe he 
 was the same fine, high spirited, beautiful 
 young man he was before you knew him, or 
 he went abroad, in spite of all his father 
 could say" — 
 
 "Went to France/' I said, in a tone of 
 inquiry. 
 
 " There's more places abroad than France," 
 observed Jerry, shrewdly, and " worse, I'm 
 thinking; and one thing's certain, poor mas_ 
 ther was never the same, nor like the same, 
 after he returned. Whisht ! they said he was 
 crossed in love ! and that was the reason no 
 one thought he'd ever marry, only his father. 
 (I've tied the skipping rope round them horses, 
 ma'am.) His father would have disinherited 
 him, if 'he'd gone on, and that made him — 
 what you know ; and now, ma'am, good-bye, 
 and good luck to you, and the Lord send you 
 safe back and soon, and don't miss an oppor- 
 tunity of putting in a good word, just to keep 
 the love alive for the masther and the little
 
 A woman's story. 57 
 
 lady ; and if you can put in that I never for- 
 got 'em, and that I'm brave and hearty, and 
 equal to the hounds, if I could get any to 
 hunt with, and pray every night on my two 
 bended knees, for Miss Emma that was, Mrs. 
 Middleton that is ; there now, ma'am, I see 
 by the smile on ye'r lip, you're thinking, it's 
 always bent they are ; well, it's the bend of 
 the horse ; I'd as soon ride without stirrups as 
 with 'em, ever since I was a dog-boy, and 
 began my knowledge of the world by stopping 
 the fox holes. Oh, those war happy days, 
 when I hadn't a shoe to my foot." 
 
 All the time poor Jerry had been talking, 
 my maid and the post-boy had been packing, 
 and when I was seated, and the chaise ready 
 to drive off, Jerry, with the ease of manner 
 peculiar to his countrymen — which trenches 
 on familiarity, but originates in genuine kind- 
 ness, yet which in an English servant could 
 not be tolerated for a moment — came up to 
 the door, and, touching his hat in his usually 
 respectful manner, said, *^ Put up the window 
 that side, ma'am, or you'll be catching the 
 rheumatis, all through the wind, that's always 
 contra-ry —
 
 58 A woman's story. 
 
 " '■ Aest, north-aest — 
 Neither good for 
 Man nor baste.' " 
 
 On the road I had ample time to muse upon 
 the weakness and bitterness of my unhappy 
 neighbour, for if ever woman was unhappy — 
 perfectly and entirely unhappy — Mrs. Lyndsey 
 was so. She had but one month in her 
 year, and that was November, its fogs ' iding a 
 nature leafless and sapless. It is really wonder- 
 ful the power of creating misery that is dele- 
 gated to a weak, bitter-minded woman. 1 
 could not desire her better educated, for edu- 
 cation may guide, but it cannot change. I 
 dare say this opinion is unphilosophic, yet it 
 is no less (according to my way of thinking) 
 true. I tried to pray for her, but could 
 hardly frame my prayer, until I thought of 
 Helen, and then prayer welled up from my 
 heart, that some change might be granted, for 
 Helen's sake. 
 
 Why did I not pray, also, for her father ?
 
 59 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 *' By thy glad youth and tranquil prime 
 Assured, I smile at hoary time ; 
 For thou art doom'd in age to know 
 The calm that wisdom steals from woe : 
 The holy pride of high intent, 
 The glory of a life well spent. 
 
 Wilson. 
 
 Hampton Lodge was situate about half a mile 
 from the village of Little Hampton, not very 
 far, if I remember rightly, from an old church, 
 among the trees ; but it is long since I 
 was there, and the Downs, they tell me, have 
 been so over-built, that I should have great 
 difficulty in recognizing the various walks
 
 60 A woman's story. 
 
 which, during a period of great mental anxiety, 
 afforded me much and frequent delight. Time 
 has galloped through the last fifty years at an 
 amazing rate ; and it has been no easy matter 
 to keep pace with him. I sometim.es feel, 
 when I look back at the events of this present 
 miraculous age, as if I had lived almost as long 
 as the Wandering Jew, such wonderful changes 
 have taken place around me. I do not speak 
 of the wars and revolutions that shook earth 
 to its very centre, but the still more extraor- 
 dinary revolutions in things and people — the 
 sweeping away of much that impeded the range 
 of thought and the spread of information — and 
 at the same tim€, the danger that those swel- 
 ling floods might overthrow what they could 
 not restore ; it certainly is very, very wonder- 
 ful to look back even for a little time ; and all 
 that I, an old woman, can do, is to pray that, 
 whatever we let go, we may hold fast that 
 which is right. Hampton Lodge was very re- 
 tired in its situation, and Little Hampton a 
 charming, quiet country village ; its proximity 
 to the sea imparting a deeper interest to its 
 inhabitants than inland villages possess — at
 
 A woman's story. 61 
 
 least, for me. In addition to the usual dwellers 
 in an out-of-the-way hamlet, there were one or 
 two boat-builders, and some comfortable well- 
 to-do householders, who were more than sus- 
 pected of being given to smuggling. You fre- 
 quently met careless, off-hand-looking fisher 
 lads on the beach, singing snatches of Dibdin's 
 songs, and throwing stones at the seagulls, that 
 seemed hardly to avoid them ; and a rudely 
 constructed pier very near the mouth of the 
 river, where it rushed into the sea, was the 
 tri/si of many of the village girls with their 
 sailor-lovers. Where the most convenient 
 bathing machines have long congregated, there 
 then stood a blackened-looking hut, that 
 seemed to have been built of drift wood ; its 
 door was secured by a huge hasp and pad-lock ; 
 this building contained a coffin-like tub, in 
 which, by giving notice on a previous night to 
 a weird sort of woman who lived in a fisher- 
 man's house close to the rockless beach, yon 
 could, on the following morning, enjoy the 
 luxury of a warm salt-water bath ; and if you 
 did not like to make your toilet on the strand, 
 you might be able to secure the shelter of the
 
 62 A woman's story. 
 
 ^ bathing house/ by application to the same 
 woman and the payment of sixpence, that is 
 supposing she was in good humour and at home, 
 two circumstances not to be always reckoned 
 on. It certainly was a primitive place in those 
 days ; the inhabitants of the village were 
 quite natural and unsophisticated — disposed to 
 treat visitors at the lodge with great respect, 
 for they saw few strangers — and the curate's 
 wife was likely to borrow your spencer, or re- 
 quest to see how your bonnet was trimmed, 
 coming so lately from London ; while inquiries 
 as to how you bore the fatigue were as 
 numerous as the families who visited the 
 Middletons. There were old ladies, who shook 
 their heads and gravely hinted at the wicked- 
 ness of a town life — and young ones, who 
 thought with the thoughtless bravery of youth, 
 what signified the wickedness to them ! if 
 they could only get to ' town,' they would 
 not care for its wickedness — they would have 
 nothing to do with that. There was a half mad 
 woman who wrote rhyme and called it poetry ; 
 and a sentimental young man who commenced his 
 conversations by the inquiry, " By the bye, do
 
 A woman's story. 63 
 
 you admire Shakespere?" or, " Don't you think 
 Milton is ray-ther heavy ?" There was a bluff 
 fox-hunting squire, all noise and ' bluster,' who 
 tally-ho'd his daughters into dinner, and in- 
 stilled early into his sons a hatred of French 
 wines and an affection for strong drinks ; who 
 associated the idea of a university education 
 with beer-drinking, rowing, and mad pranks 
 on the provost — who cracked jokes upon the 
 parson, which the parson, I am sorry to say, 
 was not either slow or delicate in returning ; 
 and yet he spared the curate, and would send 
 him a hare and a brace of birds frequently, 
 simply because the curate's earnestness and 
 piety commanded his respect. There were 
 children — that a childless prince would have 
 coveted to call his own — wandering from their 
 cottage-doors into the sheltered meadows or 
 breezy uplands — there were dames in linen 
 caps, pinned beneath their chins, ^neatly put on,' 
 who had never been so far from home as Arun- 
 del, and did not know that England was an 
 island, though they heard she ^ ruled the 
 waves ' — there was a schoolmaster, plump 
 and brisk, who rattled his cane as if it had
 
 64 A woman's story. 
 
 been a drum-stick, right joyfully, and thrashed 
 his pupils to the time and tune of ' poor Jack,' 
 which he whistled gleefully during the opera- 
 tion — there was a pale, thin, shrivelled wo- 
 man, whose husband had been drowned soon 
 after their marriage — he commanded a fishing- 
 boat, which had drifted in keel- uppermost — 
 her grief Avas so full of anguish, that her 
 neighbours considered it a mercy when her 
 mind seemed to shred away, fragment by frag- 
 ment, leaving the ' pride of the village,' as I 
 saw her, a mere vestige of life, passing swiftly 
 from her mother's inland cottage to the beach, 
 dai*ly, at the same hour, with that eager, 
 anxious, restless gait, uttering no words, taking 
 no notice of man, woman, or child, seeing 
 nothing but the ocean, straining her large, dry 
 eyes towards that, fluttering up the pier like a 
 wounded sea-mew ; she would then stand 
 looking out — her hand shading her eyes — in 
 sunshine or shower — in storm or calm — ever, 
 ever looking out ! an hour, or two, or three, 
 according to her strength, until some com- 
 passionate fishwife or fisherman, knowing by 
 her waving to and fro ' a reed shaken by the
 
 A woman's story. 65 
 
 wind/ that she could not stand much longer, 
 led her tenderly along the blackened planks of 
 the old pier, and told her the boat would 
 come in next tide ; and then she would flit, 
 and falter homewards — taking no note — speak- 
 ing no word. There were also stately neigh- 
 bours, paying and returning visits — quiet, 
 kind, and high-bred, good samples of the pure 
 old English gentry — the father of a noble 
 bearing — the mother queen-like, yet gentle 
 and obedient to her lord — the daughters gene- 
 rally lovely and loving — and the sons full of 
 college, or the stables, according to their tastes. 
 ' The county people ' never, of course, dreamt 
 of calling on the ' bathers,' or ordinary inhabi- 
 tants, unless they were known to them in some 
 direct line; even then, there never existed 
 much cordiality between those who ' gave 
 dinners ' and those who ' only invited their 
 friends to tea ;' they belong everywhere to 
 separate spheres. 
 
 The calm and quiet of those days is some- 
 thing, even now, quite delicious to think about. 
 I can shut my eyes and fancy myself in the 
 low-ceiling'd parlour, with its bow window, 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 A woman's story. 
 
 which looked over the grass-plot and the broad 
 yew hedge on to the Downs beyond, gh'dled 
 by the sea, not the rampant, roaring sea of 
 a rocky coast, foaming and thundering, and 
 dashing against the citadels of nature, but the 
 gentle waves of Sussex, washing the beach, 
 rolling up and running down, so as hardly to 
 disturb the pebbles, coming to us in murmurs, 
 in deep mysterious whispers, telling of the 
 eternity of waters. 
 
 And within, on a carved seat, beside her 
 work-table, sat my friend, the freshness of 
 youth hardly faded from her lovely cheek, her 
 child ever near her, and she, patient of the 
 hundred questions which intelligent childhood 
 pours into a mother's ear, replying or parry- 
 ing, as it seemed best to her admirable judg- 
 ment. Sometimes Mr. Middleton would come 
 in, and then both mother and child were 
 decked in their very brightest smiles. His 
 presence banished every care, every thought? 
 but of the fulness of peace and hope, and all 
 the blessed certainties of domestic love — a 
 harmony only to be surpassed by that ever- 
 lasting harmony which true affection can all
 
 A woman's story. 67 
 
 but realize on earth. So much for my me- 
 mory's picture. Nothing elevates a woman 
 so securely, either abroad or at home, as the 
 willing, the natural, reverence she shows her 
 husband, conveyed in no set terms, evidenced 
 by no prescribed form, paying no compliment, 
 abstaining from no freedom of speech or 
 opinion that womanly liberty permits, and 
 yet, plain to sight and understanding, a deep 
 Amr^reverence, which, unless a woman can 
 truly feel, she sins to kneel before God's altar 
 as the bride of the present, the wife of the 
 future — 
 
 *' Through grief and through danger, 
 Through sorrow and shame !" 
 
 But Mrs. Middleton, as may be supposed from 
 what we have said, had no trials of the heart 
 — no trials of duty ; she could not help 
 honouring him, and she did so to her own 
 heart's content ; yet, I doubt, if any woman 
 without large veneration (to speak phrenolo- 
 gically), would have been so very, very happy 
 with Mr. Middleton ; he was exceedingly par- 
 ticular in small as well as great matters ; he 
 was too well bred to find direct fault with a 
 
 F 2
 
 68 A woman's story. 
 
 visitor, though, if I failed to replace a book I 
 had been reading in its proper position on the 
 shelf, I could see his eye directed towards it 
 with a restless glance, and then his sweet wife 
 would get up and ask, " If I had done with 
 it ?" and I saw I was expected either to read 
 on or put it by. He was learned in etiquette, 
 and exact to a day in returning calls and an- 
 swering letters ; he could not endure a bit of 
 thread on the carpet, or a chair pictorially out 
 of its place — I write 'pictorially,^ because he 
 hated chairs placed rank and file against the 
 wall as much as I did ; but there was a variety 
 of chairs, and his good taste had allotted each 
 a place, where it certainly produced an ^effect,' 
 and was seen to the best advantage. " Please, 
 my dear friend, '^ said Mrs. Middleton to me, 
 one morning, ''please do not put that pale 
 maple chair against those crimson curtains — 
 Middleton says it looks like a spot, and that 
 the Elizabethan chair has the best efiect in 
 yon corner. You will excuse my mentioning 
 it ; but we must consider you ' nobody,' and 
 it made him restless the whole evening to see 
 the chair there.^' Of course, I said I was
 
 A WOMAN S STORY. 69 
 
 very sorry, and regretted he had not told me 
 — which I might have known he would not 
 have done for the world. But his particularity 
 kept me always in a state of watchful fever. 
 Instead of moving happily about when he was 
 in the room, T used to worrv mvself thinkino: 
 if I were in the right place, or if I had said or 
 done anvthincr jn ^ bad taste/ for this ^ bad 
 taste ' was the domestic ' bugbear/ " Please, 
 our own dear nobody, '* whispered little Flo- 
 rence to me, "do not wear those turquoise 
 again ; papa says, dark ladies should wear 
 coral, and you have beautiful coral." It cer- 
 tainly was very wrong of me ; but, despite my 
 respect for, and admiration of, Mr. Middleton, 
 it was sometimes a relief when he left the 
 room ; when he was present, I felt like a school- 
 girl under the immediate eye of a very erect 
 governess. 
 
 The children Mr. and Mrs. Middleton had 
 lost, had been taken from them just as the 
 bud of life was unfoldinsr into full existence, 
 and the one who remained was so perfect as 
 to leave its parents no rational wish unsatisfied, 
 Mr. Middleton's manner was not as warm or
 
 70 A woman's story. 
 
 genial as that of his wife ; it was more calm 
 and thoughtful ; and when he brought a book, 
 or came to tell us an incident, we all drew up 
 and put ourselves to rights, pretty certain that 
 we should be improved and interested rather 
 than amused. He might have thought (for 
 he always acted after thinking) that, in her 
 young days, his ' Emma' somewhat needed such 
 monishing — needed an infusion of reflection — 
 thought and spoke more from impulse than is 
 wise, however pleasant to those who listen ; 
 yet he admired her so much, appealed to her 
 so frequently in matters of judgment, as well 
 as in matters of taste and feeling, that it might 
 have been the habit of his mind, and nothing 
 premeditated. And it was pleasant, despite 
 his peculiarities, to see them in that quiet 
 room ; it was a living, overflowing happiness 
 to go with them among the poor, to note the 
 total absence of all ostentatious charity — to 
 see many humble eyes turned on them with 
 the certainty of relief, accompanied by Avords 
 and advice more valuable than gifts ; to hear 
 how the village children raised their voices and 
 shouted when they saw Mrs. Middleton from
 
 A woman's story. 71 
 
 afar, and then sank into a sort of reverential 
 silence, the silence of affection, as she ap- 
 proached ; to know that the husbandman was 
 able to pay his rent, and save something for 
 the required comforts of the evening of his 
 days ; to hear the simple, straightforward 
 statements of his few tenants, who were 
 satisfied with ^ the squire's opinion,' or ^ the 
 squire's decision,' let it be what it would. Mr. 
 Middleton had established a reputation in his 
 immediate neighbourhood for a sort of infalli- 
 bility, and retained it by the invariable prac- 
 tice of the means by which it was obtained. 
 You never heard him complaining of the in- 
 gratitude or improvidence of the ' lower 
 classes.' If he met with the one, or observed 
 the other, he would reason upon it — begin to 
 consider that, perhaps, he expected too large a 
 return for what he had done, or that the per- 
 son had not the mental power to appreciate 
 his exertions, and, therefore, had committed 
 no moral fault ; calling to mind how little the 
 poor really have to save from, or turn it off 
 with an allusion to a science, which, perhaps, 
 the beautiful development of his wife's head
 
 72 A WOMAN^S SrORY. 
 
 led him, more than any other cause, to trust 
 in, and laughingly say, ^' After all, my dear, if 
 we were to examine, I dare say, we should 
 find that it is their phrenology that is in 
 fault ; there is some depression of that parti- 
 cular organ, we must not blame them for that, 
 you know — and if it is not the phrenology, a 
 great portion of the fault may rest with my- 
 self; I am often ungrateful to the Power to 
 whom I owe my many blessings, and if with 
 my knowledge and enlightenment, I am un- 
 grateful, why should I turn away from those 
 who know so little, and have so few opportu- 
 nities of practising the higher virtues of our 
 nature?" The neighbouring gentry, while 
 they loved and admired my friends, considered 
 them ' odd,' ^ peculiar,' with ^ extraordinary 
 notions.' Fond as he was of field sports, Mr. 
 Middleton, with all his particularity, did not 
 strictly ' preserve ' his game ; in fact, if his 
 hares and pheasants ^ poached ' on the farmers, 
 he never objected to their being shot ; and it 
 was singular how eager the farmers were to 
 prove that all the game they found wandering 
 on their farms, belonged to Mr. Middleton.
 
 A woman's story. 73 
 
 I said that little Florence Middleton was so 
 perfect, that no reasonable mother could wish 
 her different from what she was ; but mothers, 
 no matter how reasonable on other matters, are 
 sometimes unreasonable in the returns they re- 
 quire from their children. 
 
 Florence was two years older than her 
 cousin Helen, but I soon perceived that her 
 mind was hardly as advanced — certainly not 
 so acute ; they were both lovely — beautiful, 
 in fact — but of a different order of beauty. 
 Florence was almost a blonde, though her eyes 
 were of a deep, thoughtful grey, and her eye- 
 lashes so dark as to assure us that her hair 
 would become brown in time ; her features 
 were regular, her mouth (the unsatisfactory 
 feature in Helen's face) perfection ; the upper 
 lip short and curved, the under small and full ; 
 her forehead was higher than her cousin's, but 
 hardly as spherical, and the contour of her face 
 so graceful that I have often pushed back her 
 curls to enjoy the pleasure of looking at the 
 perfect oval, while the soft, full cheeks dimpled 
 into smiles ; she was larger in proportion than 
 Helen, and, although her limbs were models 
 of young beauty, they were somewhat heavy.
 
 74 A woman's story. 
 
 " She will be large/' said her mother, " not 
 awkward, I hope, but large ; yet her feet and 
 hands are small — don't you think so ? And 
 she is slow in comprehending, very slow at 
 comprehending imaginative things, though I 
 have never perceived that she lost anything 
 she had once gained. Whatever pain it 
 cost me, I never suffered her, even in her 
 nurse's arms, to do what I said should not be 
 done ; nor have I ever degraded her or my- 
 self by the chastisement of a blow ; where 
 children are trained with firmness from their 
 birth, blows are worse than unnecessary ; she is 
 utterly and entirely incapable of an untruth, 
 for she knows no fear, except the fear of 
 offending, and nothing in any one offends so 
 much as falsehood. We never doubt her ; and 
 if she meets with an accident, or does any- 
 thing that is wrong, she is the first to come 
 and tell it." 
 
 While Mrs. Middleton was speaking, Flo- 
 rence entered the room. 
 
 " Go, my love, into the library ; I do not 
 wish you to hear what I am saying to my 
 friend ;" and Florence went at once. She had
 
 A woman's story. 75 
 
 to cross an ante-room leading to the library, and 
 the suite of rooms were only divided by curtains. 
 We continued talking ; and in a few minutes I 
 saw Florence re-cross the ante-room, and heard 
 her trotting up stairs. We continued our con- 
 versation, Mrs. Middleton expressing her 
 thankfulness for her child's fine moral quali- 
 ties, deep affections, excellent disposition and 
 temper, but still showing that she regretted 
 the absence of more striking manifestations of 
 talent. " She will never make a figure in the 
 world,'* she added, with a sigh. 
 
 '^ How often have I heard you say, that the 
 less figure a woman made in the so-called 
 ' world ' the better ?'' 
 
 " Ah, you remember things so," answered 
 my friend, blushing ; " but I should not like 
 her to be deficient — or to seem stupid — or pay 
 the penalty of not being able to express what 
 she feels as she feels it, and the mortification 
 of being distanced by smaller persons." 
 
 " She is too like her father not to be above 
 all that," I observed. ^^You will give her 
 both a higher and better aim, than to waste 
 the strength of an eagle in the flutterings of 
 a sparrow." 
 
 r
 
 76 A woman's story. 
 
 " You are right," she said, after a pause ; 
 " and you see how unworthy such hopes for 
 my child, such weakness in her mother, are of 
 the estimation in which my husband holds me. 
 You know how open my heart is to him ; he 
 has frequently reproved me for this inconsis- 
 tency. I always consider you nobody, so am 
 less pained at your seeing my weakness, than 
 I should be at exhibiting it to any other 
 human being. Florence has even now a calm, 
 steadfast mind, not quick to take impressions, 
 certainly, but strong to retain them." 
 
 " Old Jerry," I observed, '^ would tell you 
 your chief wish ought to be ' that God ' — (I 
 quote his very peculiar phraseology) — ^ would 
 mark her to crace.'" 
 
 '^ Poor Jerry is right. There are for us all 
 diversities of gifts ; but the best gift for a 
 woman is " 
 
 "'That God would mark her to grace?'" I 
 said, inquiringly. 
 
 " We may smile," she replied ; " we may 
 smile at the curious structure of the sentence, 
 but Jerry, poor old, faithful Jerry, is right — 
 to be ' marked ' to grace, to be chosen of the
 
 A woman's STORr. 77 
 
 Lord for His high, His holy, His gracious 
 purposes, is surely the most glorious distinc- 
 tion that can be bestowed upon a human being 
 — to live on in the humble but earnest work- 
 ing out of His commands, of His love, of His 
 charity, is, indeed, a high privilege. Florence 
 will do that; and, as a Christian parent, I 
 ought not to wish for more ; but there are 
 many and strange stirrings in a mother's 
 bosom — it is foolish, and worse than foolish — 
 I sometimes fancy her future; and when I 
 know I have wrought up my feelings into the 
 high-souled prayer, which both her earthly 
 and her heavenly Father would approve, I 
 find myself fancying how a coronet would 
 become her brow, or my ears tingle at the 
 idea of her announcement among the nobility 
 
 of the HEREAFTER." 
 
 " That large veneration of yours,'' I said 
 laughing ; " Mr. Middleton would vouch for 
 its leading you astray." 
 
 '^ No, no, that keeps people right. It is my 
 
 vanity, and my that bump at the back 
 
 with a long name. I never had those foolish 
 dreams for myself when I was a girl, and it
 
 78 A woman's story. 
 
 seems so absurd I should have them for her 
 — they are, however, but passing — they enter 
 and flit away, and, until this moment, were 
 known only to my husband — my better self." 
 ^' And your own poor nobody?" 
 " Even so. What a blessed thing it is to 
 know two human beings from whom you have 
 no concealment, whom you feel assured, cannot 
 think evil of you, because of the small weak- 
 nesses of human nature — the every hour no- 
 things, which lose their importance when com- 
 municated, and become dangerous only when 
 admitted to secret conference with our secret 
 selves, — whose philosophy has been taught by 
 Christianity, and who know that foolish fancies, 
 whatever they are born of, do not impede the 
 healthful beatings of our hearts." 
 
 I loved her all the more for the simple and 
 pure transparency of her nature. To see her 
 ruffled, as a dove ruffles its feathers for the 
 greater protection and comfort of its young, 
 was quite new to me ; and I could not but ad- 
 mire the delicate forbearance she evinced to 
 question me, or even express the least desire 
 to learn anything of Mrs. Lyndsey, or her feel-
 
 A woman's story. 79 
 
 ings. She was incapable of ' hinting at/ or 
 * fishing ' for, information. Her brother's wife 
 was distasteful to her, and she avoided any 
 allusion to her ; once only she said, "Do not 
 imagine that I do not love my brother or his 
 child, because I do not speak to them : except 
 by sending those toys to Florence, my brother 
 has not recognized my existence since our last 
 meeting, and I could not endure to hear any 
 thing of him or his that would not communicate 
 pleasure. Time will bring things round, and 
 make things plain which are now mysterious, ; 
 and my heart is open to him and his child, 
 whenever he permits it to be so." All this 
 conversation passed, and much more, after 
 Florence left the library, and in something 
 more than an hour we went upstairs to Mrs. 
 Middleton's dressing-room ; there sat the 
 subject of our thoughts, trying to make out a 
 story in a new book. 
 
 " Why are you here ? " asked her mamma. 
 The child turned her large eyes, bright with 
 truth and honour, to her mother's face. " Why 
 are you here, my dear ? " repeated Mrs. Mid- 
 dleton ; "I told you to go into the library,
 
 80 A woman's story. 
 
 where your playthings were, yet now I find 
 you here." 
 
 '^ I knew," answered Florence, " that you 
 sent me out of the drawing-room because you 
 wished me not to hear what you were saying ; 
 but as I could hear it quite as well in the 
 library as in the drawing-room, I came up 
 
 here." 
 
 Mrs. Middleton bowed her face over the 
 child to hide one of the most delicious emotions 
 she had ever felt. " My good, honourable 
 child, my own dear, dear Florence," she said, 
 ^ May this feeling increase in all things, I 
 may have to explain to you the meaning of 
 the word ^honour' hereafter, but I shall have no 
 trouble to teach you its principle." She shed 
 tears of joy when repeating this little anecdote 
 to her husband in the evening, and he kissed 
 them away in his own solemnly affectionate 
 manner. (They did not mind the nobody.) 
 
 I think this little circumstance, trifling as it 
 may seem to many, strengthened my friend's 
 faith in her child, so as to increase, if possible, 
 the happiness she enjoyed ; Florence had not 
 only evinced a nice sense of honour, but she
 
 A woman's story. 81 
 
 i 
 
 had proved her power of self-control. Jerry's 
 
 stud of horses had set her thinking how much 
 she should like a rocking-horse, and one had 
 been placed that very morning in the library ; 
 but even that she had left, that she might not 
 hear our conversation. The more numerous 
 my facilities of observing Florence became, 
 the more I was convinced that she would ripen 
 into a character of great value ; her mind was 
 far more active than her father believed it to 
 be, but it was thoughtful rather than demon- 
 strative. Her dog- and her pony became her 
 constant companions ; she would seek and 
 gather shells on the sea-shore, group flowers, 
 and learn their names and properties. Children 
 who live in an inland district have only half the 
 opportunities of acquiring the knowledge and 
 poetry of nature enjoyed by those who live at 
 the sea-side. Florence could suit her mood 
 by rambling either in the plantations or on the 
 beach, on the wide outspread downs — so blithe 
 and pleasant — such a world of sunshine ! — 
 along the paths which skirted hedge-rows, 
 enamelled by the freshest, sweetest flowers — 
 she would linger by the little gardens, inhaling 
 
 VOL. 1. G
 
 82 A woman's story. 
 
 the perfume of flowers, only found in perfection 
 when cultivated by the cottager — and the 
 dame, never failed to offer a posey to 
 * pretty Miss,' — which Florence was often too 
 shy to accept. Sometimes she would ask me 
 to take her to the churchyard, which was 
 shielded from the cold winds by three match- 
 less yew trees — beneath whose shadows the 
 earth was covered with the same cold coarse 
 grey moss that encrusted the grand old church, 
 nothing green sprang from its walls — it seemed 
 as though green were all too young a colour, 
 for its reverend age. There never was a sea- 
 side churchyard, without numbers of name- 
 less graves — and here were many — set close 
 together all in a row — the same height and 
 length — poor shipwrecked mariners — one great 
 mound there was — eleven bodies beneath a sin- 
 gle mound ; but these were not strangers, and so 
 a tombstone rudely carved with a few masonic 
 emblems, told how they all perished — having 
 put out '^ on the boiling waves " — to save a 
 ship — when all went down together — what a 
 record of desolation ! — the villagers' graves 
 were generally marked by wooden crosses, or 
 crossed over with willow wands. Florence
 
 A woman's story. 83 
 
 always paused beside three little graves, where 
 wild violets and primroses sheltered beneath 
 the waving grass. The legend ran — that three 
 little girls — sisters — had died of fever, and 
 were buried there. It was a pretty sheltered, 
 but sunny nook — and after church on Sundays, 
 there was generally a knot of the best children 
 of the school, clustering round those pretty 
 graves, and looking down on them with silent 
 were, and yet with sympathy ; but after all, the 
 old — rough-handed, weather beaten, seamen — 
 
 " Too old for work — but not too old for prayer," — 
 
 are the most interesting features in our 
 sea-side church scenery — we used to find 
 them seated on the fiat tombstones — or linger- 
 ing about the stile, as if they liked to know 
 their future dwelling. 
 
 In her rambles, Florence was generally 
 accompanied by one or other of her parents, 
 teaching — when she had no idea she was learn- 
 ing, and mingling thought and mirth together 
 in such sweet communion that she could not 
 tell which she loved best. Nothing could 
 contrast more strongly than the different edu- 
 cations of the two cousins.
 
 84 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 " Those earthly hopes that to the last endure, 
 Those fears, that hopes superior fail to cure, 
 At best a sad submission to the doom, 
 Which, turning from the danger, lets it come." 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 I REMAINED six montlis at Hampton Lodge, 
 my mind soothed, and my spirits revived, by 
 the love and harmony of its inmates; and 
 v^hen I returned home, the first news I heard 
 was, that something was going very wrong at 
 the Lyndseys. This I was told in answer to 
 my usual inquiries after my neighbours ; and, 
 the following morning, when Martha Eyland, 
 the mantua-maker, came to make the sundry 
 alterations in my wardrobe, which so long a 
 country residence rendered necessary, she in-
 
 A woman's story. 85 
 
 formed me But Miss Eyland, her home, 
 
 and its inmates, deserve an introduction — an in- 
 troduction of a rather minute kind ; for Mary, 
 Martha's sister, had much to do with the for- 
 mation of Helen Lyndsey's taste, not for 
 finery, but for poetry. Martha was a slight, 
 bent, delicate-looking young woman, of about 
 twenty, pale and placid, speaking slowly in a 
 clear, low-toned voice, with the power of 
 adapting fashions to the wearer that might 
 have been envied by the most successful mo- 
 distes of the present day ; she had really a 
 genius for her calling, and an undeniable stock 
 of patience, a patience which neither scolding 
 or ^ nagging,' or discontent, or violence, could 
 overthrow ; tears would gather in her eyes, for 
 her feelings were acute when ladies exercised 
 their caprice upon her ; but nothing could pro- 
 voke her to utter an impatient word, or make 
 an impatient gesture. Sometimes she went 
 out to work by the day, and I have wondered 
 how, hour after hour, her meek head would 
 bend over her task, and her fingers ply their 
 allotted flight unceasingly ; yet, when spoken 
 to, she answered pleasantly, and her smile
 
 86 A woman's story. 
 
 was as gentle as a moonbeam, and as sad ! it 
 was the saddest thing I ever saw, to be con- 
 sidered a smile. When she knew her em" 
 ployer sufficiently, she would venture on a few 
 words, but she always needed encouragement, 
 and avoided as much as possible talking of her 
 past life or circumstances. And what a world 
 of enduring love and heroism dwelt within the 
 two rooms she called her own ! One was a 
 sort of village show-room ; a deal table^ painted 
 red, half covered by a yellowish-green baize, 
 displayed sundry patterns, and one or two 
 stands, upon which caps flourished, not the 
 tight-headed caps of modern days, but those 
 wonderful things standing out like a radiance 
 round the head, and bristling with flowers and 
 colours ; a hard, high-backed sofa, two chairs, 
 a leaning glass, a corner cupboard, and a work- 
 box, so handsome as to belong altogether to 
 another sphere, constituted the furniture ; there 
 were no green and blue shepherdesses on the 
 chimney, broken or entire, only a few rare 
 shells. A canary bird, blind from age, hung 
 in the window, and beneath, on the broad ledge, 
 were a few plants ; a myrtle, two sickly-looking
 
 A woman's story. 87 
 
 geraniums, running into green, sappy, feeble 
 wood, and some very fine double primroses. 
 On the high-backed, hard sofa, Martha's 
 sister, Mary, generally reclined, from about 
 eight in the morning until midnight, always 
 in the same position, ior she had lost the use 
 of her limbs. And yet Mary was as necessary 
 to Martha, as Martha was to Mary : her face 
 was round and cheerful, and her voice had 
 the ringing sound of happiness in its tone. 
 Mary was older and better educated than 
 Martha, but everyone considered her the 
 youngest, perhaps because of her helplessness ; 
 yet she was wonderfully useful to her sister, 
 she ran all the ' breadths.' hemmed the ^ tails, 
 and as to * tucks !' her ^ tucks ' were the most 
 imaginative * tucks ' that can be conceived, 
 they were so minute and delicate. She had 
 an astonishing taste for millinery; her me- 
 mory was retentive ; she not only remem- 
 bered people's orders and addresses, but their 
 tastes and fancies, and so saved her sister a 
 deal of anxiety and care, for she knew that 
 Mary remembered everything ; and she had 
 also the art of talking her sister's crossest cus-
 
 88 A woman's story. 
 
 tomers into good humour. Martha was sadly 
 untidy, but Mary, notwithstanding her help- 
 lessness, managed to keep the sitting-room in 
 the most perfect order ; with the aid of her 
 crutch she picked up threads and ^ cuttings," 
 and put the faded table-cover straight, if 
 Martha had left it ever so crooked. Nor was 
 it only on business and passing events that 
 Mary's memory was exercised. She knew, 
 and could repeat, at least a score of ballads, 
 and sing them too ; and I have often seen a 
 cluster of children group round the half- open 
 window, which, though curtained, did not pre- 
 vent her sweet voice from being heard and 
 appreciated by the little listeners. Although 
 this room was a room of intense labour — labour 
 born of privation, a yet deeper distress was en- 
 closed — I had almost written entombed — with- 
 in the other chamber. On a clean bed lay the 
 mother of these two girls, a living sorrow, yet 
 cherished in their affections beyond all telling ; 
 she was their mother, utterly helpless, with- 
 out the power of raising a cup of water to her 
 own lips, and as feeble in mind as in body, 
 recognising her children at long intervals, not
 
 A woman's story. 89 
 
 by a look, or a word, or a smile, but by the 
 shedding of tears. No one ever saw this 
 afflicted woman in a soiled cap, or with a 
 crumpled riband folded round her head, or 
 heard her voice, or found her asleep ; though 
 her eyes emitted no ray of intelligence, 
 they would turn towards the direction from 
 which Mary's voice proceeded with something 
 like interest in her song. And there she con- 
 tinued, the same stricken, lonely creature, 
 watched and tended by those daughters whose 
 industry and singleness of purpose had won for 
 them so true a feeling of respect in the neigh- 
 bourhood, that even ^Mrs. Brevet-Major' 
 treated them, as she herself would have said, 
 with distinction.' It was almost a realized 
 union between the quick and the dead, the 
 union between this mother and her children ! 
 And in the interest excited by the industry 
 and patience of the Misses Ryland, the good 
 people of Hampstead almost forgot the 
 rumours which attended their first appearance 
 amongst them, when their mother was able to 
 move about, though even then she never spoke 
 to a stranger, and avoided even the society of 
 her own daughter.
 
 90 A woman's story. 
 
 Enough of them for the present. I inquired 
 when Martha Ryland had seen Mrs. Lyndsey, 
 aad she answered, " Not for some time. Miss 
 Helen/' she added, " came in as usual to hear 
 her sister sing old ballads, but she had not seen 
 Mrs. Lyndsey for more than a month ; and 
 Mr. Lyndsey went so early into the City, and 
 returned so late, that people wondered he was 
 not afraid to ride the lonely road from town by 
 himself, or with only Jerry ; the tea-garden 
 patrol was a great protection a few seasons 
 ago, but that had been done away with, though 
 the road was still dangerous from highway- 
 men." 
 
 I was very anxious to learn if the report my 
 maid had mentioned had a wide circulation ; 
 yet my objection to asking questions was so 
 great, that I hardly knew how to frame the 
 inquiry, and began to consider whether I had 
 not better stifle my curiosity altogether, when 
 Miss Jane Saunders entered. Miss Jane had 
 a fancy for spreading sea- weed on white paper, 
 sticking it out into weeping willows, and birch 
 trees, and poplars, and the like, and when they 
 were arranged, some up, some down, in what
 
 A woman's story. 91 
 
 I used to think a very unnatural manner, Miss 
 Jane (who was said to have the taste of the 
 family) used to have them framed, and hung as 
 pendants to the black ^ cuttings out ' of herself 
 and her sisters — poor things ! who, very lean 
 and long, looked like cameleopards in profile. 
 I had promised to get her some specimens 
 while in Sussex, and, I dare say, her early 
 visit was prompted by a desire to see if I 
 had kept my word — perhaps with a kindly 
 wish or curiosity as to the state of my health, 
 and an anxiety to be the first to 
 
 " Hear or tell some new thing." 
 
 The Saunderses, one at a time, and when 
 there was no scandal in the case, were very 
 pleasant women, particularly to me, to whom 
 talking in the ordinary way was always a 
 trouble ; but when they all talked together, on 
 different subjects, it was too much, and after- 
 wards I was thankful to think that Miss Jane 
 was the only one who called that morning, 
 for there is something painful in hearing pri- 
 vate trials made the subject of public talk. 
 Misfortunes are in themselves so sacred, that.
 
 92 A woman's story. 
 
 whether they concern our friends or enemies, 
 they should be whispered, not shouted, to the 
 world. Miss Jane was not of this opinion. 
 She began immediately by the enquiry, " Had 
 I heard the dreadful report about the house of 
 Lyndsey and Co.?" She said this in such a 
 tone of loud and vulgar exultation, that I in- 
 voluntarily looked at the dressmaker, as a 
 sign to Miss Jane to be more cautious. 
 This, however, had no effect whatever. 
 ^' Oh ! " she exclaimed, *^ I understand ; Miss 
 Martha Kyland has told you, I suppose ?'^ 
 
 " No, ma'am I have not," said the dress- 
 maker ; "I, myself suffered so much from 
 reports some years ago, that I do not like 
 to repeat what may not be true ; at least," 
 she added, " I had no means of ascertaining 
 whether it was true or false.'' 
 
 " Oh, very right, and very prudent, and 
 very necessary in your position ; but I know 
 what I say — and a very shocking thing it is 
 — very mournful and sad to think of; though, 
 if we had known the ins and outs of it, 
 it might have been expected, long ago. Not 
 only is the house unable to meet its creditors, 
 but there is strong suspicion of forgery. '^
 
 A woman's story. 93 
 
 " Oh, Miss Jane, not as regards Mr. Lynd- 
 sey," said Martha Ryland. 
 
 "Well, I declare!'' muttered Miss Saun- 
 ders ; " some people hardly know their proper 
 places in society." 
 
 Martha coloured, and bent over her work. 
 
 " The Lyndseys were very kind to Miss Ry- 
 land," I said. 
 
 " Gave her work, and paid for it, I 
 suppose," was the reply ; and then she con- 
 tinued, with the voice and manner of a person 
 who would add vinegar to green gooseberries, 
 " I repeat there are strong suspicions of 
 forgery — somewhere. I do not say where, 
 but Lyndsey and Co. are suspected of forgery ; 
 one partner is all the same as another." 
 
 "No," I replied indignantly, "not so. I 
 have known Mr. Lyndsey all my life, and I 
 am certain he is utterly incapable of approach- 
 ing such dishonour ; he could not commit a 
 crime — it is impossible !" 
 
 " Lord bless me !" she said, " Lord bless 
 me, who would have thought to see you so 
 moved on the subject, you who are so quiet 
 that one never minds saying anything before
 
 94 "A woman's story. 
 
 you — I am sure the Cobbs believe it. My 
 sister Selina has never ceased watching the 
 road from breakfast till dinner with a telescope, 
 and neither the Major, nor Mrs. Brevet Major 
 Cobb, have passed near the Lyndsey's house, 
 or even looked at it, for more than a week. 
 All the tradespeople have sent in their bills ; 
 the apothecary told me he should call no more. 
 And these two Sundays there has not been a 
 creature in the Lyndsey pew ; as my sister 
 Selina says, that's a shame, for it's when 
 people are in trouble they ought to pray most 
 to God.'' 
 
 " And not when they enjoy his blessings ?" 
 
 ^' Now that is so much like you ; but still 
 they ought to go to church" 
 
 " And have all their acquaintances deserted 
 them ?" I enquired, without noticing her ob- 
 servation. 
 
 '' Indeed I think so ; we pity Mrs. Lyndsey 
 very much, and if anybody called, we would ; 
 but we are too humble to take the lead in such 
 a place as this, where everybody knows every- 
 body. Mr. Lyndsey has not been home for 
 some days ; and what provokes all Hampstead
 
 A woman's story. 95 
 
 is, the brazenness of that Irishman, exercising 
 the brown cob on the Heath every day at the 
 usual hour, just as if nothing had happened. 
 I met him yesterday, and could not help say- 
 ing that he seemed to have plenty of time on 
 his hands now. And he answered so im- 
 pertinently, that, ^ Whatever he had on his 
 hands, he knew how to make a good use of.^ 
 He was always an exceedingly disagreeable 
 person." 
 
 I arose and looked out of the window, first 
 over the common, and then up at the light 
 fleecy clouds that were folding and unfolding, 
 now floating away and dispersing in light 
 vapours, only to congregate again more densely 
 than before. 
 
 " I hope," I said, after a protracted investi- 
 gation of the state of the atmosphere. " I hope 
 it will not rain to-day." 
 
 " Why, you are not going out ? I met your 
 boy, (' the boy ' of those days was ^ the page ^ 
 of the present,) I met him, and he said he was 
 going to the milliner's to order some bonnets 
 wanted to be tried on." 
 
 " But," I replied, taking up what had been
 
 96 A woman's story 
 
 ray best, although my sea-side residence had 
 converted it into my worst, ^^ this hat is surely 
 good enough to visit the Lyndseys in V 
 
 I do not know whether my look or my words 
 disconcerted Miss Jane, but it was some time 
 before she spoke ; when she did, she ob- 
 served, — 
 
 *^And you will call ! after staying with his 
 sister, and after all the ill-natured things Mrs. 
 Lyndsey said of you while you were away, 
 which, of course, I am not going to repeat." 
 She paused, and looked at me, expecting I 
 would ask her to do so, but I only shifted the 
 strings of my bonnet. She added, in a per- 
 plexed and disconcerted tone, *^ I was certain 
 you would never enter the house again." 
 
 " Mrs. Lyndsey is not a white pebble upon 
 the heath — I mean she is not the one to avoid 
 scandal or gossipping, and has given, it would 
 seem, cause for both ; but she is in trouble." 
 
 '^ But, think of what people will say even of 
 you, who are nobody." 
 
 " That is the reason why I go." 
 
 " No one goes near them." 
 
 " Another reason why T, who have known 
 the family so long , should not forsake them/'
 
 A woman's story. 97 
 
 ^' The Cobbs and the Yeseys, the Langdales 
 and the Bruces, will think it strange." 
 
 '^ I am not accountable to them for my 
 actions." 
 
 " Really," continued Miss Jane, in a tone of 
 extreme vexation, " there is no use in telling 
 you anything ; you act as if you did not be- 
 lieve one." 
 
 '' Nor do I." 
 
 Miss Jane drove the pin more deeply into 
 the foldings of her shawl, and looked daggers. 
 
 *^ I disbelieve the statement ; I have no 
 reason to doubt you. You repeat what you 
 hear; not having an active imagination, you 
 repeat it correctly. The person to whom you 
 tell it has a very active mind and tongue, and 
 she repeats it with additions ; and so it goes 
 on till the grain of sand grows into a bushel." 
 
 " But, my dear lady, there can be no 
 doubt, no question, as to his difficulties — 
 house stopped — bills dishonoured — ^"Mr. Lynd- 
 sey away : the butcher would not give them 
 credit for a leg of mutton, nor the baker for a 
 loaf." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Miss Saunders," said 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 A woman's story. 
 
 the dressmaker ; '^ the butcher went there for 
 orders to-day, and told me he was very sorry 
 for the temper he had shown when Mr. Lynd- 
 sey's bill was dishonoured. ' He was a good 
 customer to me for twelve years,' said Mr. 
 Candy, ' and I was worse than a brute to 
 forget it.'" 
 
 " Some people have great luck," observed 
 Miss Jane ; ^' I always thought Candy looked 
 like a fool." 
 
 " Miss Jane," I said, ^' one w^ord will do as 
 well as twenty; saves time and breath, both 
 of which we ought to take care of; time is not 
 our own, and breath we shall want hereafter. 
 The misfortunes of the Lyndseys I can only 
 regret, but Mr. Lyndsey's character I will 
 defend until I find it unworthy ; I will not 
 take an evil report of any old friend upon 
 trust. I must know immediately the truth.'^ 
 
 ^^ Good gracious me ! " exclaimed Miss Jane, 
 in evident alarm ; '^ you are surely not going 
 to inquire at the house — not going to repeat 
 what I have said, and get me into trouble? " 
 
 I could not help thinking how little she 
 thought of the trouble in which she placed
 
 A woman's story. 99 
 
 others by random talking, but made no ob- 
 servation. 
 
 '^ I know," she continued, ^^ you will not do 
 that ; every one trusts you, and nobody cau- 
 tions you, and you never get any one into 
 trouble. I would not have spoken as I have 
 done, only you are so safe." 
 
 I gave Miss Jane the sea-weeds, and we 
 parted. She had not opened to me a fresh 
 page in the book of life ; it was an every-day 
 story told over again — making disasters worse, 
 and turning away from falling houses ; but it 
 is a poor, common-place, paltry thing, and 
 makes us ill at ease with our fellow-creatures. 
 I longed to see or hear some good of human 
 nature, after such a whirlwind of dizzy scandal, 
 which, from its frequency, is not considered as 
 vile as it deserves to be. 
 
 Miss Jane waited for me without, and per- 
 ceiving what T thought, or rather feeling that 
 we did not think alike, she began saying that 
 Mrs. Lyndsey was always a wilful, mindless, 
 foolish woman, and Mr. Lyndsey an inactive, 
 indolent man, fond of low company, being with 
 his groom and his horses rather than with 
 
 H 2
 
 100 A woman's story 
 
 gentlemen ; but it struck me how very odd it 
 was that Miss Jane Saunders should never 
 have noted so much before ! Another ugly 
 page, I thought, turned over ; which rendered 
 me so uncomfortable in her society, that I 
 drew my veil over my face, and wished her a 
 most determined good morning. 
 
 That night, after a day of painful expe- 
 riences, I had a dream — which I will relate 
 here, rather than at the end of the next chap- 
 ter, where I shall have something else to say. 
 
 I heard a continuous sort of chatter — the 
 peculiar tender tone, in which insincere people 
 pay compliments, fearful to speak out, lest 
 their words should be heard by others than 
 their victim, and registered; and I looked, 
 and saw a flock of tattered jays and pies, and 
 unclean birds fluttering round a ladder ; and 
 on this ladder was a man, mounting vigorously 
 upwards ; the ladder seemed to stand up of 
 itself, against nothing, and I observed that the 
 higher he got, the more the ladder trembled — 
 which he perceived not, for it did not stay his 
 progress ; but, with eyes fixed upon a quan- 
 tity of trumpery baubles that were piled on
 
 A woman's story. 101 
 
 the topmost steps, he went jauntily up, 
 over two or three bars at a time, running a 
 risk of breaking his neck, and for what ? — the 
 higher he got, the louder became the voices of 
 the birds, and I could hear them compliment- 
 ing him more and more on his beauty and 
 bravery, talent and power, urging him on, and 
 for what ? The youth was mightily delighted, 
 and tossed his head, as if in triumph. It was 
 curious to hear the kite and the hawk dis- 
 coursing more fluently than parrots, and to 
 see the bare-necked vulture bending his bald 
 head, and schooling his fierce insulting eyes 
 into servility — while he praised and flattered 
 and encouraged the hair-brained youth on his 
 course ; the higher the youth climbed, the more 
 the ladder shook to and fro — and at last I 
 looked down to see how it was supported — 
 and to my horror T perceived that it was based 
 upon a sand -heap — I looked up, and saw the 
 foolish young man, grasping at the baubles ; 
 the ladder reeled — I shrieked out, and as 
 I did so, the ladder fell with a great crash, 
 and the birds which had fluttered round 
 — flattering the climber, and encourage-
 
 102 A woman's story. 
 
 ing him in his idle course, when they 
 saw him helpless, and shelterless, grovel- 
 ling in the sand, pounced upon him — and 
 with a loud insulting, reproaching noise, tore 
 him to pieces — Alas ! alas ! — that this dream 
 should be one of the realities of life !
 
 103 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " Thou hadst no anxious hopes for me 
 In the winning years of infancy, 
 
 No joy in my upgrowing ; 
 And when from the world's beaten way 
 1 turned 'mid rugged paths astray, 
 No fears where I was going." 
 
 SOUTHEY. 
 
 If you enter the house where death has been, 
 the black dresses and downcast eyes of the 
 servants tell at once the cause of the hush 
 and silence which the passing of the dark 
 angel's wing has produced. You speak in a 
 low tone, and tread softly, as if fearful of dis- 
 turbing that which can wake no more. It is 
 likely there is a cloth over the cage of the 
 singing-bird, and that the blinds are all drawn
 
 104 A woman's story. 
 
 down. The child that used to spring like an 
 arrow to meet you, steals to your side, and 
 looks up into your face with such an expres- 
 sion of meek misery, that you know her heart 
 is full, and that the moment you speak her 
 eyes will overflow. When you turn the lock 
 of the well-known sitting-room, the full gush 
 of memory overpowers all other sensations; the 
 snuff-box or spectacles are in their usual places 
 on the little round table, by the side of the old 
 arm-chair ; if the friend you have lost was 
 young, or in the full summer of life, the flower 
 vase she delighted to fill, is empty, and the 
 music-books are piled with as much order as if 
 no one had ever given voice to their pages ; 
 the favourite dog rises from the hearth, and 
 gazes at the door, watching to see who next 
 will enter, hoping still that she may come who 
 never came but in kindness. The house of 
 mourning, though calm and desolate, has been 
 set in melancholy order ; but the house where 
 the conflict between past and present is ^ afoot' 
 tells a different and more painful story. When 
 the grave is closed, though there is no more 
 joy, there is no more extension of sorrow, and
 
 A woman's story. 105 
 
 the uplooldng to imraortalitj elevates above 
 the world ; but in these earthly troubles, 
 where the worst is yet to come, and the 
 broken spirit and crushed heart know not 
 what the morrow may bring, and suspicions of 
 wrong float like a black flag above the portal, 
 while the sufferers either shrink away from 
 human sight and sympathy, or, in the fever of 
 assumed strength, dare the world to say and 
 do its worst ; or, having faith in the purity 
 of their intentions, however inefficient their 
 power to work such intentions out, bend to 
 the storm, only to be broken by its violence ; 
 still, no matter how the conflict between pecu- 
 niary difficulties and a harsh judging world is 
 carried on, the scene of the combat is always 
 a scene of disorder and wretchedness; the 
 over-seeing mind is disturbed, filled with other 
 thoughts and anxieties than belong to the 
 regulating of a household, or the minutiae of 
 domestic comforts; while the servants, with 
 rare exceptions, judge even more harshly than 
 those without the walls. 
 
 The relation existing between master and 
 servant in England, is of a less confiding, less
 
 106 A woman's story. 
 
 endearing nature, than in any other part of 
 the world ; tlie master commands and pays 
 for labour, the servant obeys and takes wages 
 — that is all ; the master is too proud to re- 
 ceive sympathy with service, and the servant 
 knows that he never can be more than ^ a low 
 fellow ' in his employer's estimation. In large 
 establishments, the master and mistress recog- 
 nize only their upper servants ; they give 
 pay, but not even protection to the ^ under ' 
 ones. And in all the small domestic homes 
 of England, the principle is still the same ; 
 children are instructed to keep servants at a 
 distance, and until a higher moral tone is in- 
 fused into the education of their attendants 
 the precaution is necessary, though its being 
 so is one of the blots on our social system. 
 Upon the first approach of sorrow or changed 
 circumstances, ' the hireling fleeth, because he 
 is an hireling,' and then people cry out at the 
 ingratitude of servants, without remembering 
 they had given them nothing to be grateful 
 for. The mere fulfilment of a contract calls 
 for no gratitude ; while an interchange of the 
 small attentions and kindnesses of life never
 
 A woman's story. ]07 
 
 diminishes the respect which is necessary for 
 the preservation of distinctive ranks ; on the 
 contrary, they may be thus made to cling more 
 closely together, the servant being often more 
 proud of his master than the master is of him- 
 self. It was evident to me, when the knock 
 I gave at Mr. Lyndsey's door echoed so 
 mournfully, that the parlours were unoccu- 
 pied ; the garden in front of the house, when 
 I last saw it, was smiling in all the gaiety of 
 blooming annuals ; now all things were trail- 
 ing and ragged ; the white curtains, which 
 Mrs. Lyndsey used to fuss and torment her- 
 self and others so much about, covered with 
 dust, hung loosely from the cornice ; a snail 
 had fixed itself upon the division where the 
 nearest window opened, and the steps on 
 which I stood were green at either side. I 
 knocked again, and, at last, one of the doors 
 of the underground offices banged, and I heard 
 the heavy, measured tread of a domestic, not 
 in too much haste to obey the summons ; pre- 
 sently the cook's face was pressed against the 
 glass of the side-lights to ascertain who I was ; 
 the chain was unhooked, and the bolts with-
 
 108 A woman's story. 
 
 drawn, and I stood in the liall, to receive infor- 
 mation that she did not know whether Mrs. 
 Lyndsey was in or not ; the footman had left 
 that morning, and if they expected her to open 
 the door, she must do the same : " Not," added 
 the woman, with an insulting sneer, '' not that 
 there's many call now, only it's not my business." 
 She threw open the door of the breakfast-room, 
 and shouted from the hall twice, ^^ Rachel;'' 
 then one of the doors upstairs opened, and, 
 after a brief whisper between the two servants, 
 the nurse, always a well-behaved young woman, 
 entered. Eachel had received no kindness 
 from her mistress, but she was devotedly at- 
 tached to Helen, who had literally taken the 
 place of her own child, whom she had lost at 
 its birth. She turned away to hide her tears 
 when she saw me, and, in answer to my in- 
 quiries, said her mistress was very unwell ; 
 she saw no one, but she would tell her I was 
 below. 
 
 I had ample time to observe the neglect 
 of that well-known room ; the looking-glass 
 was covered with dust, the furniture displaced, 
 and the carpet unswept. A broken pane in
 
 A woman's story. 109 
 
 the window admitted a strong current of air, 
 and the fire-irons were dotted with rust. I 
 longed to set it in order, and make it look as 
 it used to do, and walked backwards and for- 
 wards, examining one picture and then 
 another. At either side of the carved look- 
 ing-glass hung the portraits of Mr. Lyndsey's 
 father and mother. It must have been pure 
 imagination, but I fancied the expression of 
 each countenance changed, they seemed to me 
 so full of melancholy ; and the old lady, I re- 
 member, had such a happy, placid face, and 
 such a calm smile ; but now the picture frowned 
 from the canvas on all around, while the old 
 gentleman had a keen, sharp look of inquiry, 
 as if he said, '' What does all this mean ? ^ 
 Then I began to torment myself as to how Mrs. 
 Lyndsey would receive my visit, whether she 
 might not altogether misunderstand my mo- 
 tive, and behave rudely or coldly ; neverthe- 
 less, I felt I was doing right. At length the 
 nurse returned : she apologised for keeping 
 me waiting so long, — said she ^ could not help 
 it — her mistress had not been well — her spirits 
 were flurried, though she would not let any
 
 110 A woman's story. 
 
 one say so. Would I walk up to the drawing- 
 room ? she and Miss Helen would be there to 
 receive me.' 
 
 I was much surprised at Mrs. Lyndsey's re- 
 ceiving morning visitors in the drawing-room, 
 for that stately apartment was generally can- 
 vassed up, put into brown holland pinafores, 
 like a great baby school-boy, and only dis- 
 played at Christmas and on company days ; 
 but, before I could draw an inference of any 
 kind, Rachel ushered me in, and there, on the 
 blue chintz sofa, sat Mrs. Lyndsey, dressed as 
 ladies then dressed to receive a dinner-party, 
 in a low yellow satin, with a boxful of orna- 
 ments spread over her withered throat, and 
 glaring on her stomacher in the daylight. The 
 fire was just lighted, and the wood was hissing 
 and sparkling, unwilling to ignite, while the 
 covers hastily torn off the chairs, were peep- 
 ing from beneath the sofa cushions. Little 
 Helen, decked in the very extreme of childish 
 finery, made a spring to meet me with all her 
 natural impetuosity ; but her mother placed her 
 hand upon her shoulder with a grasp that made 
 the child quiver. She then arose in the most
 
 A woman's STORr. Ill 
 
 stately manner, advanced slowly, and with 
 much pomp, hoped ^ I had received benefit 
 from the change of air, and that I left all my 
 friends well ' — a marked emphasis on the word 
 'friends.'' With great show of ceremony she 
 begged me to be seated, and then burst into a 
 fit of talking, while her fingers twitched con- 
 vulsively at the ends of a blazing yellow mode 
 scarf, and every pause showed a rising and 
 swelling movement of the throat, that was 
 evidence of the agitation of her feelings. In- 
 stead of keeping, in her usual way, to one idea, 
 she rushed into a multitude of events and plea- 
 sures, chattered of the beauty of the royal 
 family, of the almost forgotten Irish rebellion, 
 and Vauxhall, of Mrs. Siddons and the French 
 fashions, talking in an insane, feverish manner, 
 yet, like all great talkers, saying nothing, until 
 my brain positively reeled under the infliction, 
 and I asked myself the question, ^^ Is she mad T' 
 When I looked at her, I was dazzled by the 
 brightness of her eyes ; I could see the pulsa- 
 tion of the rigid veins in her temple, while two 
 vivid crimson blotches burned on either cheek. 
 Sometimes she compressed her lips violently,
 
 112 A woman's storv. 
 
 and when tliey opened again tliey seemed 
 drawn apart by an effort. I sought her eyes, 
 but they would not meet mine. I sat before 
 her in an agony of pity, which I dared not 
 express. I saw she could not bear it. I longed 
 to comfort her. I was prepared to hear her 
 sorrows, and listen to her complaints, but she 
 met me with such an air of defiance that I was 
 struck dumb. 
 
 Helen trembled by her mother's side, her 
 deep wandering and wondering eyes straying 
 round the frigid room, now gazing into mine, 
 and then glancing for a moment at her mother's 
 face. Suddenly the poor actress paused, and, 
 apparently worn out by the exertion, asked me 
 what my news was, people only went and 
 came to hear and tell news — Helen might 
 leave the room, she had been looked at — she 
 supposed that was enough — all I wanted, of 
 course, was to compare her and Florence. She 
 did not think her child could lose by the com- 
 parison — Helen moved away, and then, im- 
 pelled by a sudden emotion, ran and flung 
 herself into my arms. 
 
 " Dear me !" exclaimed her mother, quite
 
 A woman's story. 113 
 
 annoyed — " dear me, how very vulgar all that 
 sort of thing is ; I should expect that from a 
 child brought up in an obscure sea-side country 
 *\nllage, but not from you ; there, your face is 
 as red as beet-root. Go ! but come back, do, 
 miss, you were forgetting your curtsey." 
 
 The child, in those few months, had changed 
 as much as the mother ; she seemed half a 
 dozen years older than when I last saw her ; 
 such a world of premature intelligence had 
 crept into her face, rendering every feature, 
 and the movement of every feature, full of ex- 
 pression ; there seemed so little of a child in 
 the meaning glance and the penetrating look. 
 After she left the room there was a silence, 
 Mrs. Lyndsey clicking her rings round her 
 withered fingers, and looking down and ad- 
 justing her finery. I rose to wish her good- 
 morning, seeing how determined she was to 
 avoid the subject that filled my mind, and 
 thinking I should not be able to say a few 
 words at parting to tell why I called ; but she 
 insisted upon my resuming my seat. She had 
 exhausted every topic of what she imagined to 
 be fashionable conversation, and therefore was 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 114 A woman's story. 
 
 obliged to run the same round again ; still she 
 could not rattle through even their limited 
 range as she had previously done ; she paused 
 from sheer exhaustion. The convulsive move- 
 ment in her throat, and the twitching of her 
 fingers, increased every moment, and at last 
 she burst into hysterics. I would have rung 
 the bell, but she prevented me : " No," she 
 said, "it will go off, it will be sure to go off; 
 it's only from having — from having eaten 
 lobster last night, without vinegar!" I pulled 
 up the blind, intending to open the window ; 
 but even the pale sunlight of winter distressed 
 her. 
 
 " No, no," she exclaimed, " shut it down, 
 the sun and the dust spoil the furniture ; and, 
 as I expect to see a good deal of company, I 
 like things to keep fresh ; that will do." 
 
 I am sure my looks betrayed that I was 
 sore troubled ; her want of truth was vexa- 
 tious, and I became forgetful that strength 
 was not given her to walk the straight path, 
 or understand what a friend was. Surely we 
 should judge all persons, not by ourselves or 
 others, but by their own powers. She was a
 
 A woman's story. 115 
 
 feeble, foolish woman, increasing her suffering 
 by those unworthy means which could not 
 have been practised by a worthy mind. 
 
 I inquired for Mr. Lyndsey. 
 
 *' Oh, he is well enough, I dare say — hunt- 
 ing, or fishing, or hiding, or something of the 
 kind," was her convulsive reply, while she 
 dared not look me in the face. " Mr. Lyndsey 
 was an old bachelor when he married me, and 
 so I was never able to mould him in any way 
 — that you must know, for we never kept any 
 secrets from you." 
 
 " And did you ever learn that I abused 
 that confidence ? " I inquired, sitting down 
 beside her — the wish to serve, at least to 
 sympathize with her, still lingered in my 
 mind. 
 
 " No, indeed, you never did — I can say that 
 for you. You have all the secrets on the Heath 
 in your keeping, yet no one ever knows any- 
 thing from you." 
 
 " It was the belief that you so thought," I 
 replied , " w^hich brought me here this morn- 
 ing. I hoped to have been of some comfort 
 to you, or perhaps useful, and I am sorry to 
 
 l2
 
 JlG A soman's story. 
 
 see that you have mistaken a visit, whose 
 object required this brief explanation to ac- 
 count for its informality. 1 only returned 
 last night.'* 
 
 She then commenced speaking with such 
 rapidity, that I could not keep pace with her 
 words, or set her right. 
 
 " And, so, they heard it there. At Hamp- 
 ton Lodge they talked of Mr. Lyndsey's mis- 
 takes, and Mr. Lyndsey's misfortunes, for I 
 have made no mistakes ; / have made no mis- 
 fortunes ; I am the same as ever ; I have not 
 speculated. My house, (this house, its lease 
 for twenty-seven years was bought with my 
 money,) is the same as ever ; my child is the 
 same as ever; and if you were like any one 
 else, you would write, and say so, to the Mid- 
 dletons — tell how you saw me, and found me 
 quite composed^ sitting with my child, all 
 arranged, and dressed, and not ashamed to be 
 seen ; but in high spirits — yes,*' she added 
 with a frightful hysteric laugh, " in very high 
 spirits ; and you would tell it to the Cobbs, 
 and the Saunderses, and the Bayless, and all 
 those horrid Heath people, who have behaved
 
 A woman's story. 117 
 
 so shamefully to me. But you won't — you are 
 so careful, and so silent — 1 know you won't. If 
 you were anyone else, I would say, you came 
 here to spy ; but you do not — you see all, and 
 say nothing. There was no use in my dress- 
 ing for you — you look at me with your large 
 calm eyes, nothing feeling — nothing ! You . 
 have no desire to write and astonish those vile 
 Middletons with an account of how I am, and 
 how I look. Look at me ! " she exclaimed, 
 rising fiercely, and standing erect before the 
 pier-glass, " Look at me ! — do 1 look like the 
 wife of a dishonoured man ? They \ised — 
 those who loved me — used to say I had the 
 presence of a Lady Mayoress — tell the Cobbs 
 that ! but you will not ! Oh, no — you are a 
 safe person, one who never talks or tells. 
 What if Mr. Lyndsey fails? — I had no hand in 
 it — what have I to do with business ? I never 
 mixed myself up with his business. Why 
 should [ ? Oh, if I had the making of the 
 laws, women should be independent of their 
 husbands ! Tell the mild, meek Mrs. Middle- 
 ton that. I hate pattern women, and I hate 
 her ! Oh, that I had a friend to blaze my
 
 118 A WOMAIS'^S STORY. 
 
 courage to the world— to talk of my resolution, 
 and my calmness ! " 
 
 She was almost insane because I would not 
 promise to repeat all I heard, and continued 
 to taunt me with my safety and silence. Here 
 was a state of mind for a woman whose hus- 
 band was in concealment from his creditors ; 
 and whose very life, if there was truth in re- 
 port, might at that moment be forfeited, whose 
 name was surely threatened by the mercantile 
 dishonour of one who cannot pay that he 
 oweth, who had sunk in a few months from, 
 at all events, nominal wealth, with its appur- 
 tenances, to positive poverty. Yet here was 
 his wife — she who ought to have been his 
 friend, in its highest and purest sense — here 
 she was, only intent upon sending abroad, the 
 first opportunity she had, a report of her dress 
 and composure, and the freedom of her mind 
 from all trouble and anxiety ; not seeing how 
 she was injuring herself. It was a novel and 
 degrading picture, and one I felt ashamed to 
 look upon. I said something about the law, 
 or the love, or the duty of a husband and wife, 
 ar i hoped I should soon have cause to see her
 
 A woman's story. 119 
 
 really in good spirits ; and that t>he falling 
 away of mere worldly acquaintances was 
 nothing worth ; and, at this point, she stopped 
 me, by saying, "But we had no other — we 
 never had what you would call intimate 
 friends — people who come in to dine with you 
 in morning dress, or stay tea without invitation, 
 and put their feet on the fender, and ring the 
 bell of themselves. I never allow Mr. Lyndsey 
 to have friends of that kind, — servant maids 
 and married men should have no followers. 
 And as to these troubles, I am very sorry for 
 them, of course ; and I said to Mr. Lyndsey, 
 at the very first, ^ My love,' I said, ' you have 
 got into them somehow, and you must get out 
 again somehow, but it would be very unjust were 
 I to be affected by them; and it is a very shame- 
 ful thing that a woman like me, who sits at 
 home, doing no harm, should be treated as I 
 have been. I had such a pretty little fortune ; 
 and the worst is — those Middletons ! I had set 
 my heart upon Helen's cutting out Florence, 
 Helen grows plain — her skin is not half so clear 
 as it used to be ; and I know very well that 
 Mrs. Middleton will triumph, unless you could
 
 120 A woman's story. 
 
 manage to tell her that I dont't mind it, — you 
 see I don't ; if it had not been so public, I 
 should not mind it in the least — you know you 
 found me looking so well, and so well dressed. 
 Oh ! if you had but the tongue of a woman to 
 repeat what you see and hear !" And, then, once 
 the restraint was shaken off, she ran on without 
 consideration or thought, save of herself. No 
 sympathy with her unfortunate husband, (oh, 
 those late marriages of convenienee ! )no care 
 for the future of her child ; no terror as to the 
 misery the ruin of one mercantile man is sure 
 to entail on others ; no vision of homes made 
 desolate ; no thought, no feeling but for self. 
 
 At last I determined to leave her — my mis- 
 sion unaccomplished, for I had done her no 
 service, and could learn nothing of her hus- 
 band. She had dressed herself in gauds to 
 impress upon me her indifference to circum- 
 stances and opinions ; nor would she let me 
 depart, after her agitation had subsided, with- 
 out certain mean and fishing questions, re- 
 peated over and over again, as to what the 
 Middletons said, and how Florence looked, 
 proving that her mind was even poorer than I
 
 A woman's story. 121 
 
 had imagined it to be. To the last, even 
 knowing me as she did, she did not seem to 
 understand how anything except curiosity 
 could prompt a visit, from which all her 
 former associates had shrunk. She rang the 
 bell with more than her usual energy, and it 
 echoed, I fancied, mockingly through the 
 house. As I passed the cloak-closet little 
 Helen rushed out, and dragged me into the 
 breakfast-room. 
 
 ^' Just give me one real, true kiss before 
 you go," said the impetuous child. " I cannot 
 kiss anyone before her as if I loved them, and 
 I do love you so ! my own dear nobody, who 
 often petted me, and lectured me — and taught 
 me to pray — and tried to teach me to be good. 
 I read quite well now, and could sing you five 
 or six of Mary Ryland's nice ballads. Mamma 
 has been having new dresses made, and 
 she has them so often altered, that Rachel 
 takes them, and waits, and then Mary 
 sings to me. And," she added, ^' may I 
 tell mamma that you asked me to come and 
 spend a day with you, and she will let me, 
 perhaps?"
 
 122 A woman's story. 
 
 " But I have not asked you, dear Helen." 
 The child raised her large lustrous eyes to 
 mine. 
 
 " But you can if you like." 
 
 " Helen, dear, mamma is in trouble, and you 
 ought to stay with and comfort her." 
 
 " But I am never with her, never^ except 
 when she wants to make a show of me, and 
 that's not often now." 
 
 " How do you mean ' make a show of 
 you ? ' " 
 
 "Oh, make me sing, or repeat poetry, or 
 dance my shawl-dance." 
 
 " And do you like this show-work, Helen ?" 
 I inquired, trembling almost for the reply, 
 dreading that the tremulous dew would 
 be shaken from the bud ere it became a rose. 
 
 " Oh, yes, dearly !" she replied, clapping 
 her little hands, " dearly ! It is so pleasant to 
 be praised, and called clever, and caressed ; 
 but it is dull now — papa is away, and no com- 
 pany comes ; and if I write ever so many verses 
 on my slate, I have no one to read them to but 
 Eachel." 
 
 " And what does Rachel say ?"
 
 A woman's story. 123 
 
 ^* Why, she says it is better to hem and 
 sew, fhough I know she does not think so, for 
 she makes me tell them ten times over, and 
 looks so pleased ; and mamma never cares to 
 hear them, except when there is company. 
 Will you hear my last poem ?" 
 
 This poetic fancy in my little friend, who I 
 saw was already tainted by her mother's vanity, 
 was new to me ; and, though holding in abhor- 
 rence all childish exhibitions, my curiosity got 
 the better of my judgment, and Helen brought 
 her slate. The writing was so bad that I could 
 make nothing of it, but the little maid was de- 
 termined not to be foiled ; she read it aloud, with 
 an emphasis and a feeling that quite astonished 
 me. The subject was unchild-like, it was a sort 
 of sonnet to the stars, and would have done no 
 discredit, either in metre or feeling, to any of 
 our minor poets. 
 
 " But did you really compose this yourself, 
 my dear child ? '' 
 
 " Oh yes, and it is not at all my best." 
 
 " And so you love the stars, and to watch 
 them from — 
 
 ^ Where the laburnum sheds its golden blooms.' "
 
 124 A woman's story. 
 
 She looked at me with a very peculiar ex- 
 pression. 
 
 " It is all make-believe, you know, nothing 
 but that," she replied, bursting into a merry 
 laugh, ^' all make-believe. I do not much care 
 for the stars, and the laburnum died last year — 
 it is all the make-believe of my own head. I 
 write all day long, now that the music master, 
 and the dancing master do not come. I take 
 my dear slate about with me all day, and steal 
 it under my pillow at night, I do love my slate 
 — and tell it all my secrets ; but don't whisper 
 it to mamma, for one day she told me to go 
 down, as she wanted to speak to Rachel, and I 
 waited on the stairs, and heard her tell nurse 
 that I must not pore so much over my slate.'' 
 
 The memory of Florence's bright and prac- 
 tical sense of honour came to me at that mo- 
 ment — even while the fascinating child spoke — 
 and I said, " But surely you did not listen.?" 
 
 She only smiled — ''I heard; no one can 
 help hearing," she replied, promptly. 
 
 I then sat down, placed her on my lap, and 
 explained to her how it was and why it 
 was, she had no right to listen to what her
 
 A woman's story. 125 
 
 mother did not wish her to hear, and that if 
 she did so, no good or honourable person would 
 love her. The colour mounted to her cheeks 
 by degrees, and, at last, she nestled close 
 to me, and I felt the blessed tears of shame 
 and regret upon her face. I did all honour to 
 the talent so suddenly discovered in the child, 
 but my heart rejoiced when I found that hers 
 expanded at my reproof — I dreaded — appre- 
 hensive it might have closed against my words 
 — but on the contrary, she clung more closely 
 to me, her little arms twined round my neck. 
 
 ** Do ask that I may spend a day with you," 
 she murmured again. " When the summer 
 comes, and I may take my slate into the gar- 
 den, I never shall be dull, for then I can write, 
 but now it is so cold to sit in the nursery ^nd 
 make stories all to myself; Eachel calls them 
 ^ rubbish,^ and bids me hold my tongue — nobody 
 understands me — and I must not let mamma 
 know that I ever speak to Jerry." 
 
 " But you should not do so, if mamma tells 
 you not." 
 
 '^ But papa always said I might if I did not 
 tell," replied the child, too quickly — and there
 
 126 A woman's story 
 
 I was on the horns of a dilemma, fixed between 
 both. 
 
 ^' And I do like Jerry — he is so funny — 
 tells me about my ancestors, papa's/or^J^ar^, as 
 he calls them ; and such a number of stones about 
 fairies — do you know — only I think mamma 
 would kill papa if she thought it, and I am 
 sure you will not tell — but I do believe — hush 
 — no one can hear, can they ? — no ! — Well 
 then — I really think papa's papa — or grand- 
 papa,or something, was" — she looked about — 
 to be certain no one could hear the secret 
 she was so anxious to communicate — and then 
 whispered — " I do think that my papa's papa — 
 or mamma was Irish ! — there ! " 
 
 I told Helen I would request her mamma to 
 let her spend a day with me, in a little time, 
 and endeavoured to impress upon her. that 
 she must not leave her mother while she was 
 in trouble. 
 
 ^' Trouble, indeed," repeated Helen, " trou- 
 ble ! '' and the tone of the voice, and the short 
 prematurely bitter laugh, told too truly how 
 lightly the * trouble ' was regarded. 
 
 During my homeward walk, I thought over
 
 A woman's story. 127 
 
 and over to what this contradictory culture of 
 so fertile a soil must lead. One parent had 
 evidently been acting upon the child in oppo- 
 sition to the other, and yet both (and how 
 pregnant with a disastrous future was the fact!) 
 bad been sowing the seed of falsehood in a 
 mind so naturally prone to fiction and its ex- 
 aggerations, that every effort ought to have 
 been made to stablish and strengthen it in 
 what was real and true. The love of display, 
 the panting for admiration, so innocently 
 avowed to me by this fascinating child, was 
 not as dangerous as the evident want of moral 
 training in the first great lesson of life — per- 
 fect and entire truthfulness ! 
 
 The fairy tales of Jerry, and the wild 
 ballads of Mary Ryland, were calculated to 
 increase the fever of an imagination already 
 active beyond its strength ; but that was a 
 minor evil. How wretched is the prospect of 
 the child whose mother feels not the influence 
 of that power which directs all things rightly I 
 A mother may lack accomplishments, rank, 
 station, and have no claim to what is deemed 
 the higher order of intellect ; she may be plain
 
 128 A woman's story. 
 
 of speech and of manner, unformed or even 
 rude ; but if she has tasted of the fountain of 
 living waters, if she understand and practice 
 the simple rule of eight, ifshe is the handmaid 
 of truth, and if deceit and vanity have never 
 sheltered beneath her roof — if she is faithful 
 as a friend, gentle as a mistress, and of a lov- 
 ing, duteous nature towards him to whom she 
 is bound till life's pilgrimage is ended, then 
 her children are certain of the best and purest 
 training for time and for eternity. Judgment 
 also (for every child requires peculiar train- 
 ing), is especially needed in education ; yet I 
 have known women, simple in other things, of 
 almost intuitive wisdom in the teaching of 
 children — plodding onward with a few fixed 
 principles, modified by tenderness and affec- 
 tion, according as the strength or weakness of 
 the child required assistance — combat and 
 
 overcome difficulties which but, dear 
 
 me, I am perplexing myself, and not enlighten- 
 ing others, by recalling the train of thought, 
 the feelings and anxieties, the hopes and 
 regrets which that dear child occasioned 
 me, even then. Nay, I remember being espe-
 
 A woman's story. 129 
 
 cially shocked at finding myself contemplat- 
 ing the idea — almost, I fear, the hope— that 
 Mrs. Lyndsey might not live very long, and 
 that then Helen and Florence might be edu- 
 cated together. What wicked thoughts find 
 entrance into our hearts at times ! 
 
 VOL. 1. K
 
 130 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 " My female friends, whose tender hearts 
 Have better learn'd to act their parts, 
 Receive the news in doleful dumps." 
 
 Swept. 
 
 I FEAR my friends may find tedious the noting 
 of persons and things by which these pages 
 have been hitherto filled ; but it is necessary 
 I should be thus minute at the commencement, 
 for out of what are considered the small 
 nothings of childhood arise the great plans 
 which sanctify a generation, or the storms and 
 tempests that revolutionize a world. The 
 near connexion that subsisted between Helen 
 and Florence was, owing to Mrs. Lyndsey's 
 ignorant and perverse mind, the great barrier
 
 A woman's story. 131 
 
 to their knowing each other ; yet I most 
 earnestly desired these children to become 
 acquainted. I saw how valuable an influence 
 the high principles of Florence might exercise 
 over her young cousin, while Helen's quickness' 
 would stimulate Florence ; and I longed to in- 
 terest Helen's talent and imagination in the 
 cause of the better and holier attributes of our 
 nature. If ever I felt certain of anything, it 
 was that this child's career must be brilliant : 
 no matter how circumstances might for a time 
 retard or obscure her genius, it must achieve 
 celebrity, if not distinction, in the end. It was 
 impossible to say how the talent would be 
 directed — it might come forth in one way or 
 in another; but, as surely as the lightning 
 bursts from the thunder-cloud, so surely would 
 that child's career rivet the attention of the 
 world. Florence ! — dear, right-minded Flo- 
 rence ! — so little can we see into the future, 
 that I had no concern for her. I did not 
 know the world then as I know it now; I 
 thought that, brought up as she was, she miist 
 escape the pains and penalties that fall to the 
 lot of those not so highly favoured. " No 
 
 k2
 
 132 A woman's story, 
 
 cause to be anxious about Florence," I would 
 say; " she will have a competency, and, 
 marrying some admirable man, be as happy as. 
 her mother. But Helen, that bright-eyed, 
 intelligent creature ! who seems only to lack 
 power to give her thoughts and feelings words 
 — whose heart and brain are full of love and 
 imagination — the tone of whose young voice is 
 music, and who is balancing so fearfully at 
 this moment between right and wrong, that 
 the question is, whether she will achieve the 
 skies, or be sunk into an abyss too dreadful to 
 think of; for her there will be no medium ! 
 Under her parent's circumstances, what is to 
 become of her ? How or where is she to 
 go?" 
 
 I longed for the solitude of my own room, 
 to think for her ; but my sufferings for that 
 day were not ended. I heard the clatter of 
 voices as I passed my drawing room window, 
 and there was Mrs. Brevet-Major, Mrs. Bruce, 
 the eldest Miss Saunders, and other neigh- 
 bours, waiting, it seemed to me — and I hope I 
 was not unjust or uncharitable in the supposi- 
 tion — for the express purpose of talking over
 
 A woman's story. 133 
 
 the case of the ^poor Lyndseys' to some new 
 ear. Your true scandal-monger abounds in 
 wordy pity for the victim, whose troubles, but 
 for the activity of such agency, might have 
 passed away like a summer cloud And so 
 they raised a sort of funeral-howl over the 
 Lyndseys, wailing their distress ; showing, too, 
 what extraordinary second -sight they possessed, 
 for they one and all declared they had pro- 
 phecied what Mrs. Lyndsey's pride, and Mr. 
 Lyndsey's indolence must come to ; but they 
 never had suspected — never fancied — he could 
 have been so lost to himself as to have forged 
 — that was indeed a climax ! 
 
 "But, had he?'' 
 
 *^ Some one of the house in Change-alley 
 had^ that was certain, because it was in the 
 papers — at least, somebody said it was — or a 
 hint of it ; and it was so distressing to know 
 people who did such things." And, with my 
 heart and head aching, I uttered a mechanical 
 "yes'' or "no." 
 
 Nothing perplexes your genuine scandal- 
 monger so much as a brief monosyllable : there 
 is a desire that the news be properly appre- 
 ciated, and, if it is not, silence conveys a tacit
 
 134 A woman's story. 
 
 reproof that is anything but agreeable. It 
 was curious to see how my visitors looked at 
 each other. Mrs. Brevet-Major Cobb shook 
 her feathers, and sat cross-legged, and then 
 varied her position by placing her feet on the 
 fender, while observing that ^' she never was 
 mistaken in her estimate of character ; her 
 impulses, and instincts, and reasonings were 
 always right ; she would say so much for her- 
 self, whatever other people said or thought." 
 And she always lauded herself in a trumpet- 
 voice, which echoed through the room. To 
 this I said " Yes," a *^ yes " in the wrong 
 place, for which she visited me with some 
 thunder -frowns, while her cheeks became very 
 crimson indeed. Mrs. Bruce said I looked ill; 
 another that I seemed out of spirits ; a third, 
 that I had a tender heart ; a fourth, that I 
 knew a great deal, but would not tell ; when, 
 greatly to my relief, the servant announced 
 Major Cobb. It is very ridiculous to observe 
 how the sitting of a female committee of scan- 
 dal is immediately broken up by the entrance 
 of a gentleman, although the gentleman may 
 be as prone to the vice as the ladies; but,
 
 A woman's story. 135 
 
 somehow, it is a thing which ^both usually 
 avoid when in each other s society, simply 
 because they desire to be well thought of by 
 each other. If women continue to talk scan- 
 dal in an uninterrupted sort of way before a 
 man, it is a decided proof that they hold him 
 in no sort of respect or esteem, and set no 
 earthly value on his good opinion. When the 
 Major entered, a dead silence succeeded the. 
 chatter I had just determined to end. He 
 complimented me on my good looks ; and he 
 did so briefly and rapidly, an evidence that he 
 was in great haste to get on as fast as possible 
 to some other topic. His cheeks were puffed 
 out like love-apples, and the corners of his 
 mouth were in perpetual agitation ; his wife 
 exclaimed rather sharply — 
 
 " Now, Major, what is it ? You are champ- 
 ing your bit — your new bit — like a war- 
 horse." 
 
 " Madam," said the Major, lifting up a chair, 
 and striking it down again, to ascertain its 
 strength, and then sitting down upon it with 
 the weight of a grampus and the gravity of a 
 judge ; " Madam, whatever * bit ' it may be, it
 
 136 A woman's story. 
 
 is not a ' hW of scandal \^ and he looked round 
 triumphantly, thinking he had said something 
 very good and very witty ; and as he was ac- 
 counted a rich man, the ladies smiled and 
 tittered, and murmured, '^ Oh fie ! Major." 
 And that everlasting Miss Saunders smirked 
 and twittered out, " Oh shame I dear Major 1" 
 upon which Mrs. Brevet bridled, and said ^^that 
 unmarried ladies ought to have no dears f and 
 the Major clapped his little fat red hands, and 
 exclaimed, ''Jealous, by Jove!" and then 
 Mrs. Brevet looked so disclaimingly indignant, 
 that her feathers quivered again ; and I could 
 see her great thick fingers close gradually, 
 until her hands looked like knotted clubs ; 
 while the Major chuckled, and Mrs. Bruce, 
 thinking to turn it off", said, '' But then the 
 Major is such a very little dear ; " and this 
 made matters worse. For Mrs. Brevet resented 
 indignantly any observation on her husband's 
 size — and in a low grating tone, asked Mrs. 
 Bruce to '' repeat and explain her last obser- 
 vation — which she did not understand. '' But 
 the Major suddenly arose, and placed his hand 
 on his double-breasted coat, and speaking as it
 
 A woman's story. 137 
 
 he were at the head of his brigade, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Ladies, I have been into the City;" I was 
 so glad to inquire if there was any foreign 
 news. " And I am come from the City," he 
 added, without noticing my inquiry about 
 news ; *' and I have the pleasure to tell you 
 that — Lyndsey's afloat again ! '^ 
 
 My heart beat so rapidly, that I could hardly 
 breathe ; there was a confused murmur of 
 questions, and inquiries, and ejaculations, but 
 what they were I know not. 
 
 " He's a fine fellow," continued the Major ; 
 " a very fine fellow ; pays twenty shil- 
 lings in the pound. He went abroad, when 
 you all missed him, to some friend in Holland, 
 and arranged to pay his creditors to the last 
 farthing, by giving up all he had in the world." 
 
 " But I thought you said he was afloat 
 again," said Miss Saunders, in a disappointed 
 tone ; ^' I though you said he was afloat again." 
 
 " Aye, in marching order, John ? " added 
 Mrs. Brevet-Major. 
 
 ^' And so he is ! " exclaimed the Major, 
 standing on tip-toe, falling back on his heels,
 
 138 A woman's story. 
 
 and rising again on his toes — and looking as 
 happy as if he had just won a twenty thousand 
 pound prize in the lottery, or stolen a march 
 upon Tippoo Saib ; " all Hampstead declared 
 he could not pay sixpence in the pound. And 
 Miss Saunders, I fancy, led the forlorn hope 
 in that forgery report — eh, Miss Saunders ? " 
 
 ^^ Indeed, Major, I did no such thing," said 
 Miss Saunders, growing very red. 
 
 " Well, lady, if you did not lead, you and 
 the other ladies brought up the rearguard^ I am 
 certain of that ; and you all cut the house as 
 decidedly as if the yellow fever had been 
 raging there." 
 
 " Why, Mrs. Lyndsey is a very disagreeable 
 sort of woman," said Mrs. Bruce. 
 
 " And so proud," added Miss Saunders, 
 ** that we knew she would not like to be seen 
 by even her dearest friends, while any 
 suspicion attached to her precious husband's 
 character," she added, with a vain effort to 
 look sympathizing and sentimental. 
 
 " Precious drumsticks ! " ejaculated the 
 Major, who always became excited at the good 
 fortune or honourable conduct of a friend, and
 
 A woman's story. 139 
 
 could render right soldierly homage to the 
 merits of a foe. "Precious drumsticks/' he 
 repeated ; " why ladies, you all know she never 
 cared a farthing for him, and what grieves me 
 is that I have proof she has neither known nor 
 cared where he has been during the last fort- 
 night. I know it, madam, I know it ! '' 
 
 " Then I must say it was more shame for 
 you, Major Cobb, to know anything of the 
 kind without acquainting me with it," said Mrs. 
 Brevet-Major, starting up and pacing along the 
 drawing-room, a pennon of downy feathers 
 floating after her, so that she reminded one of 
 a flagstaff in motion ; " I have no notion of 
 married men having secrets." 
 
 " But they may have a notion that way, 
 sometimes, madam. Besides, it was a private 
 despatch — and a soldier's honour, Mrs. Cobb ;" 
 and the little man again laid his fat hand on 
 his heart and bowed. The lady was somewhat 
 appeased, and resumed her seat. 
 
 " Then, the reports have been false, after 
 all," said Miss Saunders in a mournful tone of 
 voice. 
 
 " Not at all," replied Mrs. Bruce, cheerfully, 
 ^•' the Major still says he is ruined."
 
 140 A woman's story. 
 
 *' I beg your pardon, madam/' said the 
 Major " I said no such thing." 
 
 " Why, you said he has given up all he had 
 in the world." 
 
 " Ay, paid twenty shillings in the pound, 
 and left him self a beggar," observed the Major's 
 wife ; *^ surely that is ruin ! " 
 
 " Not a bit of it," replied the sturdy soldier. 
 ^' He has an honest heart, and an unsullied 
 name, and these are good stock-in-trade for any 
 Englishman to begin life upon. If he had a 
 cheerful home and a loving wife, such a help- 
 mate as you were to me when we followed the 
 drum together, you often carrying the 
 knapsack, dearie," and he looked tenderly to- 
 wards Mrs. Brevet, who returned it by a frown 
 and a pursing in of her lips that intimated 
 silence ; ^' if he had that man's first and greatest 
 
 blessing, a good wife, poor Lyndsey would in 
 truth be afloat on the waves of prosperity ; for 
 when the wind-up of his affairs came to-day ; 
 when he met his creditors — you know what a 
 
 plain simple man he is " 
 
 " And indolent," put in Mrs. Cobb, whose 
 ^ duty walk' was eleven miles per diem, and
 
 A woman's story. 141 
 
 who had no idea of any exertion that was not 
 bodily. 
 
 " Well, my dear, he never was accustomed 
 to the forced marches we had in our early days. 
 I remember " 
 
 " Remember what took place in Change- 
 alley, if you please. Major Cobb, as you have 
 been there, '^ suggested the lady. 
 
 " Well, when he met the creditors, and they 
 came prepared for the worst, looking as black 
 as a detachment of hungry niggers, there was 
 Lyndsey as brave as a lion ; and though, poor 
 fellow, he has grown thin, I never saw such a 
 smile of satisfaction on his lips, or such clear 
 intelligent brightness in his eyes. He was 
 quite another man, strong in his own rectitude, 
 and when he spoke — he spoke like a Briton ! 
 he could not have spoken better if he had 
 been at the head of a regiment.'' 
 
 '^ Well ! " exclaimed Miss Saunders, " who 
 would have thought it ? Everybody said he 
 had run away ; and the reports were really so 
 queer, t*hat, as Mrs. Bruce, and dear Mrs. Cobb, 
 and the Lilleys, and all, did not call, 1 did not 
 like to intrude on Mrs. Lyndsey."
 
 142 A woman's story. 
 
 Then Mrs. Bruce muttered she would have 
 called if Mrs. Cobb had called, and Mrs. Cobb 
 stood firmly upon her rank and propriety, and 
 vowed she never could let herself down to call 
 upon a suspected person. 
 
 " Not, my love," said the Major, twinkling 
 his eyes, " unless of a certain rank." 
 
 " Major Cobb !" 
 
 " Yes, you remember the Eajah's wives, 
 and — and ladies .^" 
 
 " A matter of curiosity. Major Cobb." 
 
 " And Mrs. General Pritch ?" 
 
 " Stop, Major ; that was only on account of 
 your position, and to show my respect for my 
 commanding officer," replied the lady, tossing 
 her plumed head. 
 
 ** And now, after all," continued the accom- 
 modating Miss Saunders, " perhaps it is better 
 as it is. If Mr. Lyndsey must begin again, 
 of course they will not live as they did ; and 
 it might be very painful to them, if their old 
 friends witnessed their new style," and she 
 simpered as if bitterness were wit. 
 
 '' You meant acquaintances, Miss Saunders," 
 I said. There was no other reply to her mean-
 
 A woman's story. 143 
 
 ness, and she fell back upon her original ob- 
 servation, that appearances had been greatly 
 against them. 
 
 '' I don't care the dying squeak of a cracked 
 fife for appearances," said the Major, rapidly ; 
 '*nor for circumstantial evidence, nor for the evi- 
 dence of my own ears — sight — taste — smell — 
 nor for the witnesses of my own senses or any 
 body's senses — against the character of a 
 friend ! — If I know a man to be just and true 
 — if I have had proof of that truth and justice 
 — I would believe myself deceived by myself, 
 sooner than credit anything to his disadvan- 
 tage. — Ay, ladies, smile or sneer — or set 
 James Adam Cobb, Brevet-Major of the 
 Bengal Cavalry, down as a fool if you 
 please — but the first man who dares to look, 
 when I speak of my friend Lyndsey — as you 
 look Miss Saunders at this moment, or as you 
 look, Mrs. Bruce — I'll have great pleasure in 
 calling him out, aud running him through the 
 body — that's my argument with men, ladies. — 
 It's a greater glory to see a man of feeling and 
 honor extricated from his difficulties, than to 
 see a lion break through the hunter's toils, and
 
 144 A woman's story. 
 
 rush across the plain to his native forest — !" 
 
 '' Major, you grow poetic/' sneered Miss 
 Saunders. 
 
 " No, Miss — excuse me — I do not ; but I 
 should like to call a drum-head court-martial, 
 and try all scandal-mongers — male and female. 
 I almost fancy the air of Hampstead creates a 
 good appetite, not only for food, but for evil 
 speaking. — This air is poisoned — I say 'poi- 
 soned^ ladies, by false tongues !'' 
 
 And again the warm-hearted Major balanced 
 himself backwards and forwards on his heels 
 and toes. 
 
 " And more than that," he added, " you and 
 I, my dear, will call there to-morrow. I ought, 
 if I had done my duty as a man and a husband, 
 to have insisted upon this long before." Mrs. 
 Cobb's feathered bonnet oscillated, and she re- 
 peated — '^ Insisted ! Major ! — insisted, sir ! — 
 Strange language to use to me, sir." 
 
 ^'Then madam, it shall be strange no longer, 
 you shall not always wear the little dragoon's 
 boots — and other things. — We will go and call 
 on Mrs. Lyndsey before the sun sets, as sure 
 as your name is Molly Cobb."
 
 A woman's story. 145 
 
 Luckily for the lord of the creation, Miss 
 Saunders muttered — " thank God I am not 
 married" — and Mrs. Brevet heard it, — this 
 gave to her wrath a new direction. 
 
 ^* It is rather curious, madam, to hear a 
 lady thank God for the overthrow of her 
 hopes and expectations — the Miss Saunderses 
 have been rather celebrated husband-hunters 
 — in their day." 
 
 " In their day,^^ — that was a cruel cut, and 
 Miss Saunders felt it, because it was true. 
 
 " You are not quite yourself, and hardly 
 know what you are saying this morning, 
 ma'am," replied Miss Saunders — then letting 
 her head fall on one side, and casting up her 
 eyes, with what her sisters called ' their sweet 
 Jane's Madonna-like expression/' — she added 
 — *' but I can forgive you — poor woman !" 
 
 Mrs. Brevet -Major fired tremendously at 
 the *^ poor woman," and there is no knowing 
 to what lengths the ladies might have pro- 
 ceeded, had I not, for the sake of even ^^ the 
 treacherous peace," the only peace that can 
 exist between pettish, weak-minded, irritable 
 women, who hate each other, not for the sake 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 A woman's story. 
 
 of each other's bad, but each other's good 
 qualities, started a new idea. 
 
 " Would there be a sale at the Lyndsey's," — 
 nothing used to excite the ordinary mass of 
 women residing in a suburban district, so 
 much as a sale — except, perhaps, a shop 
 selling off. — The bait took — it was wonderful 
 how they ran at, and ran over the furniture. 
 
 The major took no part in the discussion 
 that followed ; for he had suddenly seized a 
 newspaper containing an account of one of 
 our victories, and the ladies talked with as 
 little restraint as if he had not been present. 
 There was room for much speculation as re- 
 garded the Lyndseys — whether the furniture 
 would or would not be sold ? whether Mrs. 
 Lyndsey would ever consent to part with her 
 china, especially the ' Limoges ' bowl and the 
 yellow dragon, which Miss Saunders owned 
 she would like to possess? whether she would 
 dress as much as usual ? and which of the four 
 servants she would keep ? All declared their 
 conviction that the house would be disposed of, 
 and wondered who would take it ; and Mrs. 
 Bruce became elevated by honest indignation
 
 A woman's story. 14:7 
 
 at the only thing I ventured to say, namely, 
 that I hoped Mr. Lyndsey would be able to 
 retain Jerry and the brown cob. The idea of 
 a man Avho had been suspected of forgery ; 
 who had avoided his creditors for a whole 
 fortnight, for though it was with the purpose 
 of obtaining the means of paying them, still 
 he had avoided them ; the actually paying 
 twenty shillings in the pound, and leaving him- 
 self penniless — were reasons why he should not 
 keep a groom and a brown horse! She thought 
 J knew^ the duty people owed the public ; that 
 it was a public duty to starve composedly, if 
 they had not the means of living ; and that 
 it was a positive dishonesty for poor people to 
 long or desire, or even look at (except in the 
 way of abstract admiration) any of the luxuries 
 which are the property of the rich ; and she 
 (being a learned lady) talked profoundly about 
 heroic poverty and Spartan virtue, and the 
 holiness of self-denial, until I really became 
 ashamed of myself for having said anything 
 so dishonest as expressing a wish that poor 
 Mr, Lyndsey should retain Jerry and the 
 brown cob ! It is astonishing how some people, 
 
 L 2
 
 148 A woman's story. 
 
 by the dint and din of words, manage to con- 
 fuse your ideas by the non-arrangement of 
 their own. Mrs. Bruce terminated the dis- 
 cussion by a homily on self-denial, and would 
 have enlarged upon all the cardinal virtues, 
 but that she suddenly recollected the hour, 
 and turned her lamentations into a note of 
 fear that the turkey and chine would be 
 overdone.
 
 149 
 
 &5 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 " Old time, old friends, and old events recalling 
 With many a circumstance of trivial note, 
 To memory dear, and of importance grown : 
 How shall I tell them in a stranger's ear ! " 
 
 Lamb 
 
 It was an undeniable fact, and a few weeks 
 proved it to be so — that Mr. Lyndsey had 
 more than saved a reputation ; he had made 
 one ! He, the stolid, un-ideal man — whom his 
 neighbours hardly respected, and certainly mis- 
 understood — became noted as ' honest Lynd- 
 sey ; ' and, strangely enough, his wife caught 
 the idea — her husband being remarkable for 
 anything raised him for a time in her opinion. 
 She did not sympathize with the cause, the
 
 150 A woman's story. 
 
 effect was enough — Mr. Lyndsey had attained 
 a celebrity. At first she was outrageous at 
 his folly ; she could not comprehend why he 
 should do so 'or so ; but suddenly she became 
 enthusiastic in praise of his integrity. The 
 large house was sold, and a small house near 
 Haverstock Hill chosen as their future resi- 
 dence. It was imagined they would have left 
 the neighbourhood ; but both seemed to have 
 entertained a sort of sympathy for the old road. 
 There was no public sale, though more than 
 half the furniture disappeared. But Mrs. 
 Lyndsey kept her yellow dragon and her 
 Limoges bowl, and suddenly took up with all 
 kinds of pastoral and rural notions. She twined 
 natural flowers, particularly jessamine, in her 
 hair, discarded pompous silks, and arrayed her- 
 self in white muslin, with pale pink or cerulean 
 blue breast-knots. She would have dared a 
 crook and a garland to companion her shep- 
 herdess-hat, and sat under a tree with a fat, 
 white poodle, instead of a lamb, had there 
 been a tree of sufficient size to warrant the 
 experiment on the plot of grass called the 
 ^ lawn.' She drank milk instead of wine ; and
 
 A woman's story. 151 
 
 exercised her tuneless voice on pastoral ballads, 
 blending ^ Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill ' with 
 ' Sally in our Alley/ She used to be sublimely 
 ridiculous ; now she had taken to be pastorally 
 absurd. 
 
 The lower order of people have a high respect 
 for what may be termed common honesty ; they 
 understand well what it is to pay debts and to 
 receive money ; and Mrs. Lyndsey's small vanity 
 was flattered by the bows and courtesies of 
 the little dealers, who testified their admiration 
 of her husband by increased civility to herself 
 But it was not alone the homage of the poor 
 that elevated her husband in Mrs. Lyndsey's 
 eyes. Sir Jacob Harris, one of the rich men 
 on the Heath, one of the mysterious dwellers 
 within park-palings, called on Mr. Lyndsey and 
 tendered his services — with true English sin- 
 cerity. How delighted Major Cobb was to 
 have that tb tell, and how pleased Mrs. Bruce 
 would have been to shake hands with Mrs. 
 Lyndsey coming out of church the following 
 Sunday ; but Mrs. Lyndsey turned her back 
 upon her, and, forgetting her assumed pastoral 
 simplicity, stalked proudly forth from the
 
 152 A woman's story. 
 
 church porch, while Sir Jacob took Lyndsey's 
 arm, and, in the face of tlie bright sun and the 
 congregation, walked him more than half-way 
 up the hill, and then drove him to Harris- 
 house. In the evening the carriage rattled 
 him home again — Miss Saunders saw him in it 
 with her own eyes ! Sir Jacob had friends 
 abroad, people said, and no one seemed to 
 understand how Mr. Lyndsey obtained the 
 money which freed him from his embarrass- 
 ments. When the Middletons heard of Mr. 
 Lyndsey's difficulties, all the past was for- 
 gotten ; Mrs. Middleton wrote a most tender 
 and affectionate letter to Mrs. Lyndsey, in- 
 viting her to Hampton-lodge ; speaking with 
 the utmost love of Helen and her brother, 
 and urging that their house ought to be 
 considered her ^ brother and sister's ' country 
 home. Mrs. Lyndsey drew gall and wormwood 
 from this letter ; so much so, that, if possible, 
 the families were more estranged than ever. 
 Any one who observed how matters were 
 managed at Yiolet-cottage would have seen 
 Jerry early in the morning, or late at night, 
 in and out of the knife-house and the back
 
 A WOMAN S STORY. 153 
 
 kitchen, cleaning the knives and shoes, or 
 brushing Mr. Lyndsey's coat, with a hissing 
 sort of noise, as though he were currying a 
 horse. No one seemed to know or care when 
 he came or went : as he did not draw upon Mrs. 
 Lyndsey's solitary hundred a-year (which, to 
 hear her talk, you migh have imagined a thou- 
 sand) she had ceased to object to his services 
 and did not disdain to employ him about 
 sundry messages of her own, his reward being 
 a kind word, a brief "good morning '^ from 
 Mr. Lyndsey, or a bright smile from Helen, 
 whom he regarded with a mingling of pride and 
 admiration, which I believe no other creature 
 beside, except myself, felt at that time. It 
 was at first a sore parting between Jerry and 
 his master, if, indeed, parting it could be called, 
 for Jerry refused to accept the home Mrs. Mid- 
 dleton offered him, and engaged himself as a 
 help with his old friend, the landlord of * Jack 
 Straw's Castle,' where he could, he said, " keep 
 looking after the master, see that his place was 
 always secured in the stage, which journeyed 
 twice a-day, weather permitting, to the Bank, 
 and arrange his great-coat comfortably if, the
 
 154 A woman's story. 
 
 day being fine, lie chose to ride with the coach- 
 man." Such were Jerry's pleasures, and if he 
 had had but the brown cob to look after there 
 is but little doubt but Jerry would have been 
 happy ; the horse, however, had been stolen, 
 after it was determined he should be sold, and 
 Jerry never mentioned his old favourite, but 
 consoled himself with an occasional visit to 
 ^ Staggers,' who became the butcher's property, 
 and called, as Jerry observed, ^'quite naturally" 
 at Violet-cottage for orders. Time passed, and 
 the civilities of the poor, the bows of Sir Ja- 
 cob, and the ^ sensation' created by Mr. Lynd- 
 sey's honesty, were passing with time : he 
 worked as hard as his nature and habits per- 
 mitted him to work in his humbler calling, but 
 very soon found how much more difficult it 
 was to become the sole active person, than 
 remain the almost sleeping partner of an old 
 established firm. To be in the City every day 
 at ten, and not return till six, and that when he 
 was fifty years of age, at the period when, 
 although there is abundant energy to carry on 
 old habits, there is not sufficient to contract new 
 ones, was more than he could endure. The hero-
 
 A woman's story. 155 
 
 ism of his one great act had for a period rendered 
 him a new man ; and, as long as its freshness 
 lasted and its excitement continued, he kept 
 up, to the astonishment of all who were 
 acquainted with his previous habits. But it 
 could not continue ; some of the City men, 
 like Sir Jacob, respected, and at first helped 
 him forward, but many will set the wheel 
 going Avho tire of its monotony ; and at the 
 end of three years poor Lyndsey was a bowed- 
 down and heavy-hearted man, suffering in 
 mind and body. He had not prospered ; he 
 had never been a man of business, and again 
 felt himself on the verge of a real calamity, 
 trifling both in its amount and consequences, 
 but pressing heavily upon his heart, for now 
 he seemed to have no power of doing as he 
 had done — having nothing to sacrifice. Mrs. 
 Lyndsey 's fancy for a cottage had continued 
 as long as the one idea retained its influence ; 
 but, latterly, her eternal repining and discon- 
 tent were wearing away whatever remained of 
 her unfortunate husband's health or intellect, 
 as in addition to the remnant of her fortune, 
 which was really inadequate even to her ra-
 
 156 A woman's story. 
 
 tional wants, she was perpetually worrying 
 her own relatives — purse proud, vulgar people 
 — for what was literally considered by them as 
 alms-giving. Helen was threatened that if 
 she told her papa that her mother had this or 
 that, she should not have whatever song or 
 story she desired ; while Mr. Lyndsey, on the 
 other hand, would bestow little luxuries on 
 his child, which came from Mrs. Middleton, 
 and which her mother would not have allowed 
 her to accept had she known whence they pro- 
 ceeded. This wretched system was pursued 
 without any counteracting influence, except 
 what I had it in my power occasionally to exer- 
 cise, by pointing out to Helen the misery which 
 mystery and untruth must create during our 
 progress in life, even if viewed independently 
 of their great moral wrong ; and this the clear- 
 sighted girl perceived in all its enormity. Shesaw 
 it distinctly, and yet she practised it as a juggler 
 practises the sleight-of-hand at which he laughs. 
 She, too, would laugh at deceptions which 
 curdled my blood ; and so much had my affec- 
 tion increased for her, that I could not chide 
 her as I would have chid another. Her early
 
 A woman's story. 157 
 
 promise of beauty had not been fulfilled as her 
 mother had expected ; at fourteen, she was a 
 small and rather ungraceful girl, her form 
 and manner child-like in the extreme, while 
 her face Avas one of almost painful intelli- 
 gence. 
 
 Sir Jacob Harris had been heard to say, it 
 was a great pity Mr. Lyndsey had not ac- 
 cepted the aid he at first ofiered ; but Mr. 
 Lyndsey had no claim on him, and the offer 
 was not renewed. The major and his wife had 
 gone, for a few months, into Devonshire ; and 
 it was evident that Mr. Lyndsey was sur- 
 rounded by a shoal of petty difficulties, of 
 which Helen, even at that tender age, was the 
 depository. Eeflection was forced upon her 
 by sympathy. Her mother's health improved, 
 while her irritability increased ; her selfishness 
 concentrated, as the sphere of her enjoyments 
 became narrowed, so as to render her more 
 odious than ever ; and, night after night, Mr. 
 Lyndsey returned to a homeless home, for in 
 it there was no peace, no rest, no refuge 
 Helen was in her mother's way ; she grudged 
 the love borne to her husband by their own
 
 158 A woman's story. 
 
 child ; she wanted all that affection to be 
 bestowed on herself, although she did not 
 value it a straw. If Helen sang, she com- 
 plained of the pow^r of her voice ; if she wrote, 
 of her round shoulders ; and if she saw her 
 reading, she grumbled at books and book- 
 making. Nor did Helen's proud spirit brook 
 this patiently — she was not patient; and, 
 though her replies were few, they Avere apt and 
 bitter. Then Mrs. Lyndsey would complain 
 to me, and no creature endowed with life and 
 feeling could endure my reproofs more sweetly 
 than did Helen. She w^ould sit and listen, 
 while the huge tears rolled from beneath her 
 half-closed lids — listen to words far harder 
 than my thoughts, invariably answering by 
 the one observation — ''Oh, I could bear any- 
 thing — everything — if she did but love me ! 
 Why does she not love me ? What have I 
 done not to be loved ?" Even then, her young 
 heart yearned for the love which is the life- 
 spring of woman's existence. This was her 
 reply — her sorrow ! but sorrow and youth do 
 not dwell long together ; the next hour, her 
 clear, pure voice might be heard ringing
 
 A WOMAN S STORY. 159 
 
 tlirough the air, outsinging the nightingales. 
 One evening, I walked down to pay my visit, 
 anxious to seize any opportunity to repeat the 
 offers of sympathy and service with which 
 the Middleton's entrusted me. I paused at the 
 gate, for I heard both Mr. and Mrs. Lyndsey's 
 voice in loud dispute ; and, though they never 
 minded me, yet it is always painful to witness 
 the war of words between man and wife. But 
 as I turned away, Helen rushed out, and, 
 greatly agitated, entreated me to enter. 
 
 '^ I am so glad you are come," said Mrs. 
 Lyndsey — ^^ so very glad. You have known 
 how wonderfully I have borne all my priva- 
 tions — everything I had no right to expect 
 when I married ; and now, when I ask for a 
 few pounds just to pay the maid and things, 
 to be told I cannot have them, and all 
 that ! so I have really made up my mind — 
 quite I — to go to my brother Ben, who has 
 lost his wife, and has written to say that he 
 will be glad to have me — very glad ! I am sure 
 Mr. Lyndsey won't miss me in the least ; he is 
 in that vile City from morning till night, and 
 never brings anything out of it; except the
 
 160 A woman's story. 
 
 blacks on his cravat ; and no one can 
 say I don't behave handsome. Of course, 
 I must keep my paltry hundred a-year, and 
 my yellow dragon, and the Limoges china, and 
 all that, but for the rest, the furniture and all, 
 though my money paid for it, Mr. Lyndsey, 
 they can remain." Her husband made no re- 
 ply, and she continued — '' Your affairs seem 
 to be in such a state, that I can do you no 
 good. You'll be obliged to do something, or 
 get money somehow. The people seem to 
 have forgotten all that silly honesty of yours, 
 and bother as much about their little penny- 
 farthing bills, as if they had never had the 
 pounds and pounds they have received ; and I 
 told you how it would be, at the time ! " 
 
 " Have you done ? '^ inquired Mr. Lyndsey, 
 in that tone which the voice of utter despair 
 can only give. 
 
 " Yes ; our friend here sees as well as I do, 
 that if you are in such difficulty, every mouth 
 less to feed is a relief, and so it must be a re- 
 lief to get rid of me, at all events, for a time." 
 
 Helen continued standing beside her father's 
 chair, while Mrs. Lyndsey was speaking — her
 
 A woman's story. 161 
 
 cheek flushed, her eyes glittering and flashing, 
 her lips compressed, and her well-shaped nostril 
 swelling. 
 
 More than once I placed my finger on my 
 own lip, and looked at her ; but I saw her im- 
 petuosity could not be much longer restrained. 
 At last it burst forth, but not before her mo- 
 ther had again spoken. 
 
 '*It will not take me long to pack up my 
 little things ; though, when I married, 1 had a 
 most abundant wardrobe, Mr. Lyndsey ; and 
 though they did not ask Helen, yet I am sure 
 my brother '^ 
 
 " I will not leave my father ! '' exclaimed 
 Helen, vehemently ; ^^ I will stay with him as 
 long as I live." 
 
 " No, no, Helen,'' he replied, in a voice low- 
 ered by emotion. " No ; you had better a great 
 deal go with your mother ; I never heard her 
 speak so sensibly before. Go, Helen, go ! why 
 don't you all go ? why should any one remain 
 with me ? God knows I have no claim on your 
 love — none on yours — nor on yours, my child! 
 Aye, there it is; that is the bitterness — my 
 Mid ! In a few days I shall be lodged in a jail 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 A woman's story. 
 
 — that will be the end of it — in a hard stone 
 JAIL ! and it is all, I dare say, for the best. 
 Honest Lyndsey in a jail ! There, child, don't 
 hang about me so ; why, you hang closer to 
 me than my troubles ! There's a thing for a 
 man to say who expects to go to jail. Poor 
 girl ! poor Helen ! You came to me when you 
 were not wanted ; and now " 
 
 " Oh, very well/' said Mrs. Lyndsey, hys- 
 terically ; "I don't want her, I'm sure. I 
 never did — that is quite true. She came when 
 she was not wanted. If I had had my way 
 with her, she might have cut a figure in 
 the world. She was like my family at first, 
 but you trained her in falsehoods and things ; 
 and now you can have the good of it. She 
 may want to come to me by-'n-bye." 
 
 *^ Never !" said Helen ; " never! Oh, some 
 mothers have loved their children so dearly, 
 that their children ought to die for them ; but 
 you never loved me, mother — you never loved 
 me !" and she twined her arms round her 
 father's neck, and wept passionately on his 
 shoulder. I would have given much to see 
 tears in Mr. Lyndsey's burning eyes, but
 
 A woman's story. 163 
 
 they continued dry ; while his wife gabbled on, 
 without thought or feeling, all about herself — 
 what she had endured, what she had done, 
 what she would do ; recapitulating what she 
 called her ^sufferings,' as if no one had ever 
 suffered before, or as if she had been alone in 
 them. At last, with a most helpless expres- 
 sion of voice and look, he turned to me, and 
 whispered, "Is she gone yet ? Make her go 
 — make her go ! If she stays much longer I 
 shall be quite mad ; the little reason I ever 
 had will be all — all gone !'^ Then Helen 
 soothed him. Oh ! how like an angel she 
 seemed, kneeling by his side, filling his ears 
 with her affectionate words, and diverting his 
 attention to the small, simple things which, 
 when well, constituted his amusements. At 
 last, Mrs. Lyndsey turned her worked-up 
 wrath on Helen ; she upbraided her with a 
 want of natural affection ; she called her un- 
 grateful, hypocritical, lying ! She said the 
 very locket that glittered on her throat was 
 her gift ; that her beggarly father had not paid 
 five pounds for her clothing during the last 
 three years. Terror-stricken as I was at per- 
 
 m2
 
 164 A woman's story. 
 
 ceiving that Mr. Lyndsey heard not what she 
 said, I was thankful for the unconsciousness ; 
 for he still kept whispering, " Is she gone ? — 
 is she gone ?" and looking round as though he 
 saw her not, and more than once murmuring, 
 in an awful tone, " I deserve it — I deserve it." 
 After many fruitless attempts, I succeeded in 
 drawing Mrs. Lyndsey from the room, to 
 which I was but too quickly recalled by 
 Helen's cries, and I found Mr. Lyndsey 
 stricken by a fit. Helen's presence of mind 
 did not forsake her ; she flew for the nearest 
 medical advice, and in a few moments our 
 good doctor was by his side. 
 
 It was not until the next morning that Mr. 
 Lyndsey was pronounced out of immediate 
 danger. Mrs. Lyndsey had gone to bed and 
 slept soundly, saying that her * staying up 
 could do no good ;' there she was right. 
 
 Helen and poor Jerry watched by Mr. Lynd- 
 sey all night ; and when I came next day, 
 the smile of recognition which fluttered on my 
 old friend's lips, convinced me he was better. 
 He beckoned me to his side, and tried several 
 times to pronounce articulately, '4s she gene?"
 
 A woman's story. 165 
 
 Some few creatures are sent into the world 
 in the guise of human beings, living, breathing 
 models of their Maker, yet partaking, in their 
 nothingness, little of either the angel or the 
 demon — creatures doing no good, and intend- 
 ing no harm ; aimless and purposeless in their 
 lives; without sympathies and without affec- 
 tions ; their hearts hollowed by selfishness, 
 and yet passing from childhood to old age ; 
 partaking of life with its multitude of bless- 
 ings and beauties, yet blessing nothing in 
 return. There are not many such, although 
 position and circumstances harden and obscure 
 much that could increase and multiply the 
 happiness of those around us. There are 
 not many who do not taste the sweets of 
 life's sympathies — who do not in some way 
 reciprocate kindness — who do not honour 
 the Giver of all good, by giving in their 
 turn to others something of the abundance 
 bestowed on them; not many who, bestow- 
 ing coin at intervals, and in small quantities, 
 fancy the world and its creatures have no 
 other claims ; that if they open their purses, 
 they may close their hearts ; that the world has
 
 166 A woman's story. 
 
 no demand upon every faculty given us by the 
 Almighty ; that we have no right to pay tithe 
 of our wisdom, our care, our joy, our consola- 
 tions, so that others may partake thereof- 
 There are, I think, but few utterly shut up in 
 themselves, utterly unwilling to bestow, if it 
 be but a kind word or gentle smile, upon a 
 fellow-wayfarer. We have all taints, and blots, 
 and plague spots, hot and cold prejudices, 
 fevers, and brain-sick fancies ; we have all 
 something of the tyrant in our natures, willing 
 others to do our will, periodical blindnesses, 
 and a proneness to the use of hard unchristian 
 judgments ; but we get over these : Nature 
 struggles and conquers. Indeed, I cannot re- 
 cal one other so utterly heartless, so intensely 
 selfish, so dead to every feeling of propriety, as 
 well as humanity, as was Mrs. Lyndsey ; I do 
 not believe that when first I knew her she 
 would have acted as she did on the morning 
 when she left her husband and her child : dis- 
 appointment, and the perpetual bickerings 
 which had arisen between them, had hardened 
 her naturally unfeeling nature into brutality. 
 She packed up the dragon in the tenderest
 
 A woman's story. 167 
 
 manner, and quitted Violet-cottage with as 
 little concern for the future of Mr. Lyndsey 
 and Helen as if she had been going, to use her 
 peculiar expression, ^^ to fetch a walk upon the 
 Heath/' She talked, too, about returning 
 '' when Mr. Lyndsey 's affairs were wound up :" 
 and when Helen, after her mother had entered 
 the post-chaise, impelled by one of her sudden 
 impulses, rushed to embrace her, Mrs. Lyndsey 
 put her coolly aside, telling her to take care 
 and not break the dragon !
 
 168 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 " It is my youth that, where I stand, 
 Surrounds me like a dream ; 
 The sounds that round about me rise 
 
 Are what none other hears ; 
 I see what meets no other eyes, 
 Though mine are dim with tears." 
 
 Henry Taylor. 
 
 When the shock of this heartless scene had 
 subsided, and the cottage enjoyed an unusual 
 tranquillity, I spoke to Helen of the future, 
 though she, too, regarded me as a * nobody,* 
 and gave voice to her ideas freely. I fancied 
 that of late, at times, she had reserves — 
 thoughts that trembled on her lips, yet rushed 
 back, not in distrust of me, but distrusting 
 themselves. I was deeply grieved to find that
 
 A woman's STORr. 169 
 
 although perfectly aware of her mother's pre- 
 judices, she entertained a decided dislike to 
 her aunt, Mrs. Middleton ; she feared her as a 
 stern, severe woman. She was jealous of my 
 love for Florence ; and if she remembered Mr. 
 Middleton at all, it was as a man devoted to 
 country amusements, which she, in her wilful- 
 ness, pronounced coarse and unintellectual. She 
 imbibed her notions of a country gentleman 
 from books supplied to her mother by a cir- 
 culating library — books she ought never to 
 have read. It was in vain that I reminded 
 her of her mother's ancient dislike to her aunt 
 — a dislike that had increased in proportion 
 to my dear and cherished friend's desire to be 
 of service to her brother : a service which lite- 
 rally would have been one of love. Yet Helen 
 would revert to her mother's words, things of 
 mere impure sounds, like the whisperings of an 
 evil dream, which ought to have passed away, 
 and which she insisted she thought not of; yet 
 she did remember them ! — and they influenced 
 her, though — (and a most unhappy circum- 
 stance it was) — she was perfectly acquainted 
 with her mother's wilful and habitual mis-
 
 170 A woman's story. 
 
 representations. This was to me another sad 
 proof of the enduring mischief of careless 
 speaking. Words that are but breath enter 
 into the heart, and dwell therein, although the 
 speaker may have no moral influence ; this is 
 more especially the case with the young, whose 
 memory is in action long before judgment 
 has birth — before they have the power either 
 to compare or to combine. I believed Helen 
 to have much clearness of observation ; and 
 so she had ; yet the impression against Mrs. 
 Middleton had taken deep root. I reasoned 
 with her, and she admitted the force of my 
 reasoning; yet, the next moment, she went 
 back to the words — the foolish, evil words her 
 mother had spoken. I told her, however, I 
 should immediately write to Mrs. Middleton ; 
 I showed her, that in the present state of her 
 father's mind, and under existing circum- 
 stances, nothing could be arranged without 
 her assistance ; and she heard me, listened to 
 me, agreed that all was true, quite true, yet 
 that she would die sooner than be obliged to 
 them. I asked her, would she suffer her 
 father to die rather than seek their aid ? and
 
 A woman's story. 171 
 
 then she flung herself into my arms in a pas- 
 sion of tears. 
 
 Of course I did write to ray friend, describ- 
 ing Mr. Lyndsey's state both of body and 
 mind, convinced that the letter would bring 
 both her and Mr. Middleton to town imme- 
 diately. 
 
 Mr. Lyndsey became suddenly better — 
 stronger in body than any one could have 
 imagined possible, after so violent an attack ; 
 up and about, more active than I remem- 
 bered him for a long time ; wonderfully col- 
 lected also, though his mind had evidently 
 been severely shaken; and there was an 
 abruptness in his manner, a quickness ini'his 
 eye, and a rapidity of utterance which caused 
 both Helen and myself to observe him closely. 
 I discovered a new beauty of this dear girl's 
 character — a watchfulness and tenderness,, 
 aided by a clearness of perception, which was 
 quite astonishing at her age. 
 
 " My dear father," she said to me, ^^ has; 
 evidently framed some plan which gives him 
 pleasure ; instead of pondering over his sor- 
 rows as he used to do — brooding and sighing
 
 172 A woman's story. 
 
 — whispering his troubles to me, lest the very 
 air should repeat them, — he has been smiling 
 to himself, and has written at least two letters, 
 which Jerry took to the counting-house this 
 morning." 
 
 " Did you see to whom they were ad- 
 dressed ?" I asked. 
 
 " No ; he placed them under cover to his 
 clerk. He has asked me more than once, if 
 I was quite sure mamma would not come back, 
 and hinted it would be well to get out of her 
 way, so that she should not know where we 
 were. I think he will make a great effort to 
 secrete himself from her." 
 
 That day passed, and the next, and no 
 letter from the Middletons. 
 
 Jerry came to me in the evening, looking 
 very melancholy and mysterious. " The mas- 
 ter," he said, '^ was mighty quare in himself — 
 mighty quare, intirely ; with altogether more 
 sense in him than he had seen since long, long 
 ago — God bless him ! — which was a bad sign 
 — a mighty bad sign, and quite unnatural. 
 He didn't seem to think a taste bad of his raal 
 troubles, and they as thick as blackberries in
 
 A woman's story. 173 
 
 harvest; he took no concern for them. It 
 was to be expected that the going away of the 
 mistress, after the first shock, would be a 
 wonderful ease and comfort to him : why not ? 
 — and to poor Miss Helen ; but to see him 
 struck away, as if by a thunderboult, from all 
 care for what was hurrying over him, was 
 mighty quare. From all he heard in the 
 City, he didn't know to-night before to-morrow 
 but the dear gentleman would be arrested, 
 though he (Jerry) would take care that those 
 who laid a finger on him should have a skinful 
 of sore bones." And so he talked, poor fellow ! 
 until advancing close up to my little work- 
 table, he took from his pocket a very dark^ 
 dirty -looking bag, apparently made out of an 
 old gaiter, and holding it up before me, said, 
 *^ That's the value of my hanging ! " 
 
 I could not understand him. 
 
 '^ It's as much as my neck has been worth, 
 lady dear, going on two years ; and a sore 
 trial I had of it. It's the brown cob, ma'am, 
 is in it — the brown cob ! — the darling whose 
 coat shone like a Delhamassy, equal to eigh- 
 teen stone, sound in wind and limb, safe to
 
 174 A woman's story. 
 
 ride or drive, rising seven, and never down 
 once. I could'nt bear the notion of his 
 going out of the family, particular to them 
 who war to buy him ; and the money not going 
 into the master's pocket itself, only to them 
 blackguard — I ax your pardon for the word — 
 them blackguard crediturs that had enough, 
 and too much before ; and, sure, I hope that, 
 seeing the way master was looked up to by 
 everybody, that it would hould on, and that he 
 would be upheld by those who spoke so well of 
 him, and that he'd be soon wanting the brown 
 cob again, and me for his man ; and, night 
 after night, I kep' on drameing of our glories, 
 and he riding the brown cob, fair and asy as 
 ever, and me after him in a bran new livery, 
 to the murdering jealousy of Mrs. Brevet-Major, 
 and poor Miss Mary Ryland's face bameing 
 with pleasure among the little plants in the 
 windy to see us going by as usual ; and so I 
 thought, rather than the blackguard crediturs 
 should have the poor animal, I'd just, fair and 
 asy, steal him on myself out of the 
 
 stable " 
 
 ^* What ! Jerry ? " I exclaimed.
 
 A woman's story. 175 
 
 "Steal him on myself, that's /rom myself, 
 seeing that I had the care of him, ma'am — 
 you understand?" continued the Irishman, 
 with the most unmoved countenance ; " and 
 so I did — put him with a friend of my own out 
 to grass, where he's been ever since, as lazy as 
 a lady, with nothing to do but divart himself 
 gamucking about the marsh, without a shoe to 
 his foot, or a bit in his mouth (barring the bit 
 he ate}, like any gentleman ; and paid for him 
 myself, in coorse — happy to do it ; and all in 
 the hope that when the master (God look down 
 on him !) got a- top of the world again, I'd have 
 been able to bring him the brown cob, that, 
 after the nursing it had, would be ready and 
 willing to break the neck of any man that 
 mounted him. But that hope, like many 
 another, is dead with poor Jerry now. And it 
 was yesterday Miss Helen brought me some 
 bits of goold, a thing for the neck, and her 
 little watch, and bid me sell them for her, as 
 she had no money ; and bid me not let on for 
 my life what she tould me ; and when I asked 
 her why she didn't ask you, ma'am, to lend her 
 some, it would have done your heart good to
 
 176 A WOMAN S STORY. 
 
 see the blood-red colour on her cheek, and the 
 beautiful curl on her lip ; 'deed would it ! " 
 
 ** The proud child ! " I murmured. 
 
 " 'Deed is she, just," replied Jerry, ^*as proud 
 as a thorough-bred filly that never had bit in 
 her mouth. And so I bethought me it would 
 be better to sell it (the cob), when the money 
 was so wanted for the master's own self ; and 
 I went to where the poor animal was, and here 
 he is — his own worth I mean — and I got the 
 man's Bible-oath, that if I wanted him again I 
 should have him at the same price I got for him 
 this blessed day. And I only wish to know what 
 I'm to do with the money ; the masther, for 
 all the new sense he's got, isn't fit to be trusted 
 with money, that's the truth, for it isn't 
 money-sense that's come to him, only a sort of 
 sharpness, and a looking back on his past life, 
 w^hich many can't bear, barring they're angels ; 
 and though some have the memory of his past 
 goodness warm round the bits of hearts the 
 Lord has left them, yet there are others — frost- 
 bitten fools! — squeezed out of poverty, that 
 have no respect for a gentleman, no more than 
 for any other man ; and I've no manner of
 
 A woman's story. 177 
 
 doubt, tliat some of them will be worrying the 
 poor master one of these days, and I'd like 
 to save up the money, so as to be at hand when 
 wanted. It's too much to give to such a 
 young lady as Miss Helen at onct, who ought 
 only to have guinea by guinea, or two or three 
 at most. God bless us ! " he continued, after 
 a thoughtful pause, " it requires bitter know- 
 ledge of the world to know how rightly to 
 manage what manages the world itself" I 
 quite agreed with Jerry upon the latter point, 
 although I strongly condemned his proceedings. 
 
 I remember, after he was gone fancying 
 that evening one of the longest of my life — 
 my life, which, even at that time, I considered 
 a fragment, deprived as I was, in the blossom 
 of my years, of those nearer and dearer ties, 
 which knit us so firmly to this world, and with- 
 out which life would be always hard to endure; 
 yet, happily for myself, though without a near 
 relative during the last forty years of my ex- 
 istence, I have passed but few desolate hours. 
 The ringing laugh which rushes in from my 
 neighbour's dwelling, though I am ignorant of 
 its cause, has pleasant music in it ; the merry 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 A woman's story. 
 
 chiming of the marringe-bells still makes me 
 hope that no l)light may come upon the happi- 
 ness they proclaim ; and, if care and disap- 
 pointment must follow, there is, nevertheless, 
 consolation in the thought, that they have not 
 been doubled by anticipation : the very death- 
 bell tells to me of the termination of a troubled 
 race, and of the future, whose hopes and mer- 
 cies are never absent from me. 
 
 I love the voices of children ; and the birth 
 of flowers, the song of birds, the floating in- 
 sects in a sunbeam, the chirp of the grass- 
 hopper, the very wagging of a dog's tail, or 
 the household purr of a contented cat — they 
 all afford me pleasure ; and then the abundant 
 enjoyments to oneself that arise from being 
 able to minister to the enjoyments of others. 
 There can be no happiness in which there is 
 no one to participate : the selfish can never be 
 happy. Truly do I believe the only really 
 unhappy in the great race of life are the 
 unsympathizing. But I do not know how it 
 was, that evening I felt a disinclination to be 
 happy ; I put consolation away from me ; 
 and — note the wickedness of such perverse-
 
 A woman's story. 179 
 
 ness — with the quaint dealing and mingling 
 of right and wrong displayed by Jerry, afford- 
 ing such food for thought, see how strange it 
 was that I should brood and weep as if there 
 were no mercy in that heaven whence all 
 mercy comes ! The one dear portrait — my 
 shrine of love and memory — looked, I thought, 
 sadly at me ; and, do what I would, I could 
 not that night rid me of despondency. I sat 
 musing and brooding, my hands helpless as an 
 infant's, until I bethought me of some work I 
 had promised a poor widow, and which Miss 
 Eyland had prepared ; but even that failed to 
 interest me ; I went to bed weeping, and with 
 a heavy heart. 
 
 It was ^ the shadow of a coming sorrow.' 
 The next morning brought me a few agonized 
 and agonizing lines from Florence. Her father 
 was dangerously ill, her mother almost dis- 
 tracted ; that^ she was told to say, alone pre- 
 vented their coming at once to town. Mrs. 
 Middleton added as a postscript, that her dear 
 husband wished me to do what I considered 
 best, and that he would be responsible for all 
 I did ; and desiring tenderest affection to her 
 
 N 2
 
 180 A woman's story. 
 
 brother and Helen. Florence also promised 
 to write the next day. I dressed, and went 
 down to Violet-cottage : the gate was open, 
 the door had evidently not been unfastened, 
 nor the shutters taken down. I knocked again 
 and again, but received no answer ; the milk- 
 man came also, and while I was questioning 
 him, Jerry arrived. His changing colour, and 
 his evident distress convinced me that he 
 knew nothing of the mystery, which he at once 
 endeavoured to solve by breaking open the 
 door. There was no trace whatever, of either 
 Mr. Lyndsey or of Helen ! In less than an hour 
 the servant appeared. Miss Helen, she said, 
 had called her at four o'clock that morning, 
 and sent her, before day -break, ^ of a message ' 
 into the City. Her master was up, dressed, 
 and writing : indeed, she did not think he 
 had done more than pretend to go to bed ; he 
 accompanied her to the door, and she heard 
 him bolt it on the inside. Although Miss 
 Helen spoke to her in her usual voice, she 
 knew she had been crying : to repeat her own 
 expression, ^^ there was a sob in her throat 
 which she was unable to keep down." The
 
 A woman's story. 181 
 
 woman seemed to think the most vexatious 
 part of the affair was, that she could neither 
 find the place nor the person to whom the note 
 was addressed, although her master had im- 
 pressed upon her, in the strongest manner, the 
 necessity for bringing him a reply to what, he 
 said, was a matter of such haste and import- 
 ance that he could not wait for Jerry's morning 
 call. Jerry stated, that, after he had left me 
 the previous evening, he took Miss Helen five 
 pounds, returning her little watch, and making 
 her believe that the chain and trinkets had 
 produced so much. This he could easily do ; for 
 she had no idea of the value of such matters, 
 and did not doubt his word, but seemed so 
 displeased that he had not also disposed of the 
 watch, because her papa wanted money the 
 next day, that Jerry, in defiance of his pru- 
 dent resolve, said he would give her five 
 pounds of his own money until he sold it, if 
 that would do. Helen took the money at 
 once ; but, although he wanted her to retain 
 the watch, she proudly insisted on his keeping 
 it : " Indeed," he added, '^ it's seldom she was 
 one hour what she was the next ; but last
 
 182 A woman's story. 
 
 night she was unlike anything I have ever seen 
 her before — so eager for money, yet so proud. 
 What makes many humble made her high.'' 
 
 They had taken only a small portion of 
 their wardrobe ; and a line from Mr. Lyndsey 
 directed that all his things should be sold, and 
 everybody paid. Poor man ! — ^ everybody !' 
 When his senses were perfect, he was not, as 
 I have said, *'a good man of business," but he 
 knew the value of money, and the value of 
 things, and must have known that his personal 
 property could not have been worth a hundred 
 pounds — to pay three times that sum ; this 
 alone convinced me he was acting under some 
 delusion, that his mind was completely shaken. 
 Helen had one pet, a starling, which an acci- 
 dent had deprived of sight. The bird was full 
 of freak and mischief, and called " Helen" as 
 loudly and distinctly as bird could call. Be- 
 fore she quitted Yiolet- cottage, she had given 
 it food and water, placed some of its favorite 
 biscuit in its cup ; and on her slate — the be- 
 loved shite, the scratched, rubbed, ink-stained 
 slate, the depository of her thoughts, the com- 
 panion of her pillow, and of her rambles — she
 
 A woman's story. 183 
 
 had written, in her most peculiar hand, " My 
 bird and my slate for my dear ^Nobody,' 
 and my work-box for Mary Eyland, for love of 
 her and her ballads." Bewildered as I was 
 by the sudden and mysterious disappearance of 
 Mr. Lyndsey and his daughter, I was touched 
 to the heart by poor Jerry's distress. Without 
 saying a word, he placed Helen's watch in my 
 hand, and quitted the room. I commenced a 
 note to Major Cobb, who had just returned 
 from Devonshire, mentioning the circumstance, 
 and asking his advice ; before it was finished, 
 Jerry returned, and put the purse I have al- 
 ready described on the table : 
 
 " Keep it ma'am," he said, while he was fre- 
 quently obliged to pause to wipe away his 
 tears ; *^ keep it ma'am, dear, if you plase ; 
 maybe your having it will turn its luck ; 
 there's no knowing; it's their money. You 
 may live to see them again, but I shan't ; 
 that's the way my drame came true — and the 
 poor innocent animal gone for no good — for, if 
 it hadn't been for that ten pounds, sure they 
 must have been to the fore still. I ask your 
 pardon, ma'am, but put it up, out of my sight
 
 184 A woman's story. 
 
 — for them ; the strength laves me intirely 
 when I look at it; and put it in your /^/if hand 
 pocket with your right hand : maybe crossing 
 the right and left will turn the luck ; it often 
 does in a horse-shoe." 
 
 I folded my note for Major Cobb, and gave 
 it to Jerry to deliver, but he still lingered, 
 under pretence of wiping the starling's perch, 
 and giving it more biscuit. 
 
 '^ I ask yer pardon, ma'am," he said at last, 
 eyeing the scrawled-over slate which Helen 
 had left ; " I ask yer pardon, but is there no 
 word to me?" There was not. "Well, wisha- 
 age 1 what right had a poor ould family slave 
 like myself to expect it? It was a folly to 
 think of it ; but, if there had only been a good- 
 bye, or a God bless you, Jerry, it would have 
 been as good as a priest's blessing every time 
 I thought of it. Well, praise be to the 
 heavens ! I am sure she does not forget me, 
 for all that ; and it's selfish and mighty mane 
 intirely in me to be thinking of such a thing 
 at such a time ; only after I have taken the 
 note to the Major, maybe your honour would 
 be so good as to let me carry the bird to your 
 house, that's all."
 
 A woman's story. J 85 
 
 " Old Jerry I'' exclaimed the starling. 
 
 " She taught it to say that," observed the 
 faithful creature, struggling to suppress his 
 tears ; ^' she taught it to say that, and yet she 
 never left a scrap on the slate to keep life in 
 the ould follower of the family.'^ 
 
 "Jerry," I said, " something more than the 
 usual attachment, felt even in your warm- 
 hearted and devoted country, by a servant for 
 his master, binds you to Mr. Lyndsey." 
 
 " Why do you even the likes of that to me, 
 lady ? " he exclaimed. — " Sure I never 
 gave you or any other the right to think that 
 — only this much I'll let on now — and if ever 
 I've the sorrow to see the sunshine or the 
 dew-fall over their graves — maybe it's more 
 rU tell you than ever I'd tell any other 
 crayshur upon the face of the earth. Only 
 take this with you now — that Mr. Lyndsey 
 (may the Lord look down upon him and his 
 darlint child — God help them both) — Mr. 
 Lyndsey has a right to my body and bones — 
 such as they are, dead or alive ! — the right to 
 take me, or lave me — to have me while there's 
 any good in me, to cast me from him, as the
 
 186 A woman's story. 
 
 live tree casts off the dead leaf to the winds of 
 winter — and never see me more if he plases. 
 And if I knew where to go, maybe I wouldn't 
 follow his track through the world and be his 
 born slave to the end of my days ! — I'll go 
 now, yer honour — for whatever I may feel, I 
 have no more to say." 
 
 The good-natured Major had the art, like all 
 good-natured people, of rousing every kindly 
 feeling within his influence. He went round 
 and about in all directions, puffing and fussing, 
 filled with real anxiety, and bitter regret that 
 he had not been more alive to their circum- 
 stances; but though everyone was anxious, 
 some from interested motives, others from a 
 better feeling — no trace could be discovered 
 of Mr. Lyndsey's whereabouts. A lady, whose 
 delicate health entailed sleepless nights, had 
 heard the hall-door of Violet- cottage shut-to 
 twice — once before day-break, when the ser- 
 vant stated she had been sent out ; and again 
 about an hour afterwards. I had no doubt 
 that Mr. Lyndsey's diseased state of mind had 
 led to some wild project, which the active 
 romance of Helen caught at ; and no matter
 
 A woman's STORr. 187 
 
 what was her father's wish, she would have 
 acted in accordance with it. It is impossible 
 to imagine aught more devoted than had be- 
 come her love for him, since their residence 
 at Violet-cottage : it seemed as though the 
 entire affection of her nature was poured out 
 at his feet. Her mother complained, and with 
 reason, that Helen cared only for her father, but 
 she forgot that she had thrown her daughter's 
 love from her ; and with such a temperament 
 as Helen's repulsed affection could only find 
 refuge in hate ; the more she shunned the one, 
 the more closely she clung to the other, and 
 yet her genius found sympathy from neither : 
 her mother would not listen to her compositions, 
 but simply called them ' rubbish ;'' and her 
 father, though he appeared to listen, never 
 really heard. The ease and grace with which 
 she versified — the precocity of her mind — the 
 originality of her thoughts — were unvalued ; 
 they were not comprehended, much less appre- 
 ciated. Her fits of abstraction — her desire to 
 be alone — were not understood by either 
 parent, but they warred so completely with 
 her mother's views and habits, who found fault
 
 188 A woman's story. 
 
 with everything and was content with nothing, 
 that the misery of both was easily accounted 
 for. Suddenly, and most painfully, the idea 
 suggested itself to me that Helen herself, if 
 she did not plan, rejoiced at, this conceal- 
 ment, thinking that it saved her from the rule 
 of her aunt Middleton ; and yet, if such had 
 been the case, she had such faith in my secrecy, 
 such perfect and entire confidence in my afiec- 
 tion, that I thought, nay, (perplexed though I 
 was) after the lapse of a few minutes, I be- 
 lieved, that Helen Lyndsey would have told 
 me if such had been her desire.
 
 189 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 "Thus star by star declines, 
 Till all are pass'd away, 
 As morning high and higher shines, 
 To pure and perfect day ; 
 Nor sink those stars in empty night, — 
 They hide themselves in Heaven's own light." 
 
 Montgomery. 
 
 Sorrows, like tears, come not singly ! Ano- 
 ther letter from Florence determined me to go 
 at once to Little Hampton. Mr. Middleton 
 had become worse ; yet still Mrs. Middleton 
 did not fail to manifest much anxiety for her 
 brother, little knowing how completely he had 
 bewildered us by his disappearance. Again 
 the village was busied with surmises as to 
 what had become of Mr. Lyndsey and his child.
 
 190 A woman's story. 
 
 Again the various dispositions of its inhabit- 
 ants prompted to uncharitable or charitable 
 conclusions. Again the Misses Saunders 
 Haunted across the heath — up the hill and 
 down the hill ; calling at ' the Library ^ (that 
 great news mart in every village), full of 
 newly-discovered wants, to inquire for some 
 by-gone book, or to ask the price of the 
 month's ' Fashions/ as if it had not been 
 marked on the cover ; or to borrow a catalogue, 
 or ' look at ' some pencils ; or buy a quarter 
 of a quire of letter paper and two pens ; but, 
 in reality, to discover if there was any ' fresh 
 news of the Lyndseys.' And there they gen- 
 erally met Mrs. Bruce and others, intent on 
 the same errand : even poor Miss Ryland, 
 wandered in to ask the price of a ' pricked 
 pattern,' but really in the hope that she 
 might gather some crumb of comfort to carry 
 home to her helpless sister, who had long 
 considered ' Miss Helen ' as the most wonder- 
 ful creature ever born into the world. Many 
 sought out and questioned Jerry, so that the 
 poor fellow was almost heart-broken, and in 
 utter despair betook himself to the loft at
 
 A woman's story. 191 
 
 ' Jack Straw's/ letting down the trap to pre- 
 vent intrusion. The milk-man and the cap- 
 less butchers' boys (those light infantry of 
 traders), together with the sweeper, and as 
 many servant maids as could run out .without 
 being missed for ^Ye minutes, clubbed together 
 at some favourite corner to watch for the post- 
 man, hoping he might have a letter for ^ some- 
 body ' from ^ anybody ;' but that functionary, 
 aware of his own importance — albeit prone at 
 times to gossipry — now waved his questioners 
 away, resolved to gratify none — chagrined be- 
 cause he was as ignorant as themselves, and 
 therefore assuming an air of propriety and 
 reserve — an incorruptible demeanour, as one 
 who should say — ^ Do you, any of you, fancy 
 I shall reveal the secrets of the news-bag, 
 even if I did know more than names and num- 
 bers?' Not a few shook their heads and said 
 — ^ They foresaw it from the first ;' * What 
 were people to expect?' ^ A man, like a horse, 
 who was down once, was sure to go down a 
 second time ;' ' Helen was so proud, too, and 
 pride must have a fall — they were certain of 
 that !' In fact, there was nothing so bad but
 
 192 A woman's story. 
 
 that some would have certified it ; while the 
 few who could discriminate, only saw a man 
 of small mental power, bowed down by the 
 suffering born of circumstances — a man of 
 high probity, carried away by the torrent — 
 gone down, after much struggling — a wreck 
 amid the storm. Yet all agreed that his dis- 
 appearance was very extraordinary, and his 
 wife's conduct, deserting him, as she did, at 
 the moment when her counsel and counte- 
 nance — when her love and loving duty — were 
 most needed, past all telling despicable. There 
 seemed to be an unanimous intention, on the 
 part of the lower order, to ^ mob ' her, if they 
 caught her; while the higher — or, more properly 
 speaking, those of the higher — who expressed 
 an opinion, determined to 'cut' her, as if they 
 had not previously done so. 
 
 It was the first time in my life I anticipated 
 a journey into Sussex, with a heavy heart. I 
 reproached myself with thinking so much more 
 of Helen than I did of my friends, to whom I 
 was bound by every bond of love and grati- 
 tude ; but Helen had the power of creating 
 and concentrating an interest, more intensely
 
 A woman's story. 193 
 
 painful than that I ever felt for any other 
 living creature. She was the first and last 
 I thought of in my prayers. I listened, after 
 the ringing of the gate-bell, thinking it might 
 be followed by her voice ; and whenever a 
 hand rested gently on the handle of the door, 
 I fancied I should see her enter. The star- 
 ling kept continually calling — ' Helen, dear 
 Helen ! Jerry — poor Jerry !' Major Cobb, 
 too, was constantly looking in, with often- 
 repeated enquiries and perpetual surmises 
 of no use or importance ; for, although a kind- 
 hearted man and a brave soldier, he had very 
 little sense. Yet there was no one who so fully 
 sympathised with me as he did ; and, in his 
 anxiety to discover the fugitives, he was actu- 
 ated solely by a desire to seek and to save. I 
 do not know how poor Jerry heard of my in- 
 tended departure for Little Hampton, but he 
 came to me in the twilight, his jacket pow- 
 dered with hay-seed, and his top-boots, which 
 he always wore, wrinkling down his thin limbs, 
 and covered with dust. He had moreover a 
 sleepy, inert look ; the poor fellow only wanted 
 to know if I had any objection to let him have 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 A woman's STORY- 
 
 the starling to take care of while I went to the 
 country — it would be such ' fine company for 
 him/ — '^ lift the throuble off his heart," — 
 ^' keep him employed/' and so forth : and great 
 indeed was his delight when I said, that if I 
 permitted him to take care of the starling, in 
 return he was to take care of my cottage. 
 
 My cook did not like this much, but knew 
 that I seldom changed my mind or my ar- 
 rangements. Up to the hour of my departure, 
 I hoped that some intelligence might be re- 
 ceived from Helen. Mrs. Lyndsey wrote to 
 me twice ; they might be called ' necessity 
 letters,' commencing with inquiries as to her 
 husband and child, and then falling into a wail 
 about herself — herself — her perpetual and 
 most uninteresting self ! I said that another 
 letter from Florence determined me to go to 
 Hampton-lodge, but it required another and 
 still more painful one before I put my determi- 
 nation into action, and really departed 
 
 When Florence threw herself into my arms, 
 and concealed her weeping face on my 
 shoulder, I could hardly imagine it possible 
 that in so short a time, as it seemed to me,
 
 A woman's story. 195 
 
 that child had also grown into a woman ; and 
 when, after a few moments, I held her from 
 me to be assured of her identity, and saw the 
 blending of patience and gentleness in her face, 
 the success of the struggle to regain compo- 
 sure, and the self-possession and dignity of her 
 manner, I almost envied Mrs. Middleton the 
 possession of such a child. My beloved friend ! 
 the joy of our meeting flushed her cheek ; and 
 yet weeks of anxiety did not appear to have 
 impaired her strength. ^^ I shall have you 
 now to watch with me," she said ; ^' I shall 
 have you now. Poor Florence is unequal to 
 the exertion, though she seems to have an in- 
 tuitive knowledge of all necessary cares and 
 duties." And then she entered upon the one 
 engrossing subject of her thoughts — her hus- 
 band's illness, with its alternations of hopes and 
 fears. 
 
 When I saw Mr. Middleton, I confess I put 
 every hope afar from me ; I could cherish none 
 connected with this world for the ghastly 
 skeleton of the once strong and healthful man. 
 But, though changed in person, his mind was 
 as clear, as lucid, and certainly as cheerful as I 
 
 02
 
 196 A woman's story. 
 
 had ever remembered it ; it seemed to me 
 wonderfid how words of such ample content- 
 ment could proceed from any living creature 
 in such a state of suffering ; but it was the 
 triumph of the well-conditioned and soundly 
 disciplined mind over the worn-out body. 
 
 What a season of care it was ! — care for him, 
 the loved, the honoured, the cherished hus- 
 band and father. And his friends and humble 
 neighbours, how they crowded day after day, 
 — day after day, noiselessly, but constantly — 
 up the avenue, or lingered at the gate, wait- 
 ing the doctor's departure, watching in the 
 shrubbery, waylaying the servants, and turn- 
 ing silently aside if the sad reply of " Much 
 the same," was all they received in answer to 
 their eager and hopeful questions. I saw Mrs. 
 Middleton going through the most arduous 
 duties — sitting up night after night — seeing 
 every one — caring for all things ; at one hour 
 thrown into a delirium of joy by a change for 
 the better, so trifling that even her dearest 
 friends could hardly perceive it, and then cast 
 back into the deepest despair by a falter in his 
 voice, or a sigh drawn from his chest with
 
 A woman's story. 197 
 
 greater heaviness than iisuah It was distress- 
 ing past all telling to watch her when the time 
 for the doctor's visits approached. 
 
 The back drawing-room window overlooked 
 the road, and there she would station herself an 
 hour perhaps before his expected arrival. At 
 every shadow cast by a passing cloud, every 
 echo of carriage-wheels, or sound of a galloping 
 horse, she would change colour, look at the 
 watch, which in her nervousness, she unhooked 
 from her side, and then replace it, murmuring, 
 '^ Will he never come ? Must this go on for 
 ever ? '' Then she would, at my entreaty, seat 
 herself, saying, with a faint smile, ^ She was 
 determined to wait with patience." What 
 patience it was, those only who witnessed it 
 could describe. She would sit down certainly, 
 fix her feet firmly on the carpet, twine her 
 fingers closely together, and compress her 
 lips — while her eyes and ears were all ob- 
 servance ; straining her sight towards the 
 window, and listening until she started at 
 every sound : — enduring ten times more than 
 when in motion, for it seemed that motion 
 disquieted her anxiety. One of the physicians
 
 198 A woman's story. 
 
 said to me, after a very prolonged visit 
 to his patient, *' I wish that Mrs. Middleton 
 did not look as she does ; I can reply to her 
 questions, clothed, as they are, in a hundred 
 different forms, all meaning the same thing ; 
 but her eyes penetrate into my very soul : 
 there is something painfully unnatural in their 
 gaze. I hope her mind will bear up against 
 this dangerous excitement." • 
 
 I replied — She was very well — that I be- 
 lieved her to be very well ; that she said she 
 never felt fatigue, or want of rest, or even 
 repose. 
 
 He answered, that was not natural — could 
 not last ; and added, he thought, as I was so 
 evidently her friend, and one whom everybody 
 trusted, he did not mind saying to me that he 
 was very uneasy about her, and, if she were 
 not tranquillized, he feared that in a little 
 time she would be incapable of attending to 
 her husband, or to anything else. 
 
 I did not, of course, tell him so, but I cer- 
 tainly thought him an alarmist — one of those 
 who have pleasure in creating terrors they 
 cannot soothe. A day or two after this, when
 
 A woman's story. 199 
 
 Mrs. Middleton sprang, rather than walked, 
 into the room, I was deceived by the bright- 
 ness of her colour, the expression of her smile, 
 the earnestness and facility of her words. She 
 was animated by a new-found hope ; symp- 
 toms of a favourable nature had appeared, and 
 were to be worked upon ; both the physicians 
 thought her husband better. 
 
 She repeated this a score of times, and 
 clasped Florence to her bosom, falling at last 
 into a passion of tears, so wild and extrava- 
 gant, that, when they subsided, I repeated all 
 the observations which, an hour before, I had 
 scorned, entreating her to ' keep quiet,' to 
 ' be calm,' to ^ curb her feelings.' Still, I was 
 not at all alarmed for her at the time, though 
 I feared the re-action, if, unfortunately, Mr. 
 Middleton should become worse. I im- 
 plored her again and again to keep quiet, to 
 remember how mucli depended on herself 
 
 She laughed at me in her old spirit, repeat- 
 ing, " Quiet, quiet ! What is it ? What can 
 it be — the quiet so allied to insensibility, that 
 would think of itself when such as Middleton 
 is in danger ? Quiet ! friend of mine, I have
 
 200 A woman's story. 
 
 been quiet. Nights and nights, when there 
 was no hopej when the physician departed, 
 expecting, the next morning, to find God's 
 light shut out from the tombed house — all 
 that time I was quiet — quiet as you could wish 
 — in the body. I sat quietly by his bed-side 
 for hours, without thought of motion. I could 
 not have shut my eyes if I would; my eyelids 
 were rigid as marble — that was quiet. I could 
 not remove my eyes from him — they were 
 quiet ! You could not hear me breathe. 
 Florence, poor child ! has come in, and felt my 
 cheeks with her warm lips, to learn if I were 
 really alive ; and yet I seemed to see and hear 
 all things, not as I had ever done before, but 
 intuitively — T was all eyes and ears for him. 
 Oh I I can be quiet, but why should I be so 
 now ? Never had I more need of life 1 — all 
 life's purposes I all that we live for, all that 
 renders life desirable are again gathering 
 round me fresh, bright, glorious, for he will 
 live ! My life revives ! — yes, now I know it 
 — I feel it — I am sure of it ! My child will 
 not have to enter the world fatherless — with 
 only a mother's care — and such a father !'^
 
 A woman's story. 201 
 
 More than once, while she was speaking, I 
 thought her words were wild, and yet, when I 
 rememhered her nature, there was nothing ex- 
 traordinary in her enthusiasm : it was natural 
 to her — her nature. One moment I sympa- 
 thized with all she said ; the next, I almost 
 trembled at what I could hardly understand. 
 I watched her every movement, with eyes 
 rendered anxious by affection. The varied 
 tones of her delicious voice penetrated my 
 very heart. I saw length of days in her firm 
 and buoyant step, and proud, elastic bearing. 
 '' For her," I said in my heart, " is the treasury 
 of a long life." It would be long ere death 
 could overcome such a frame, or palsy such 
 limbs, or dry up the well-springs of such a 
 heart. How could she die ! — she, the life of 
 lives ? I cast all anxiety for the wife far from 
 me, as weak and discomforting, and my 
 thoughts reverted to the husband. All that 
 night and all next day he continued to im- 
 prove. Mrs. Middle ton became, if possible, 
 more excited ; she rushed up and down stairs, 
 doing everything herself; she talked unceas- 
 ingly ; she flew to her harp while her husband
 
 202 A soman's story. 
 
 slept, and, in her sweet, low voice, sung 
 over song after song — his favourites — to get, 
 as she said, her voice in order against his re- 
 covery. When we met for the holy and hal- 
 lowing purpose of family prayer, she poured 
 forth her gratitude to God, in a strain of love 
 and thankfulness which I never heard equalled : 
 it was a loving, humble, but most exalted 
 offering — her voice now full, now plaintive, so 
 melodious in all its tones ; and yet, more 
 than once, through that evening prayer, I 
 observed Florence look up and gaze at Jher 
 mother, whose hands were clasped, and whose 
 face, bright as the face of an angel, was as 
 eloquent as her words were powerful. 
 
 The physician came to us that evening, and 
 Mrs. Middleton flew upstairs to prepare her 
 husband for his visit. 
 
 " Her excitement,! perceive, still continues," 
 he said, approaching the table on which the 
 Bible had been placed. '^ She is worse than I 
 have seen her yet. It is very strange that 
 you do not perceive it." 
 
 *^I do think she is more excited than she is in 
 general," I answered, coldly ; ^' she is naturally
 
 A woman's stoey. 203 
 
 anxious, and this new-found hope elevates her 
 more than usual." 
 
 The old man smiled. The ' faculty ' have 
 a conventional sort of smile, not at all pleasant 
 to observe ; it lowers our self-esteem. 
 
 '^ You have not been used to the various 
 phases of — excitement/' he replied, but paused 
 before the word ' excitement,' as if some idea 
 of more painful import than that word conveys 
 had occurred to him. 
 
 Wh^t an age of suffering passed through my 
 heart at that moment; I trembled like an 
 aspen leaf. 
 
 ^*If she could only be kept quiet " 
 
 Before the sentence was finished, Mrs. Middle- 
 ton was in the room again — pale, haggard, 
 staggering. She grasped the doctor's arm. 
 " He is worse, much worse,'' she murmured, 
 wildly ; " worse within the last ten minutes. 
 Save him — save him, if you value your life ! '» 
 The physician was a small withered man, 
 gathered together and dried up, with little to 
 indicate existence, except his most brilliant 
 eyes ; he fixed those upon her, saying — " Be 
 calm ; he must fluctuate." He gave me an
 
 204 A woman's story. 
 
 expressive look, and, taking one of the candles 
 off the table, went up stairs. To my great 
 astonishment, Mrs. Middleton did not attempt 
 to follow him ; she remained panting and 
 glaring, repeating — "And, after all, he will 
 die ; after all he will die — die ! '^ It was 
 months before the wail of these words ceased 
 to ring in my ears, or her face, changed in a 
 few moments from its beamy brightness, its 
 ecstatic look, to one of such utter despair, 
 passed from before me. 
 
 Florence entered before Doctor Leslie could 
 have entered her father's room. She placed 
 her mother in a chair, rang the bell for some 
 water, and said — " You have agitated yourself 
 needlessly, dear mother. It was the position 
 of the lamp that threw such a shadow on my 
 father's face." 
 
 The answer to this was a loud ringing laugh 
 - — I never heard so sad a laugh before or 
 since. 
 
 Florence became pale as marble, but per- 
 fectly self-possessed. Whether Doctor Leslie 
 heard the laugh or not, I cannot tell, but he 
 was by her side in a moment. Mrs. Middle-
 
 A woman's story. 205 
 
 ton had risen, casting, as it were, her former 
 self away. She continued that fearful laugh- 
 ter, tossing her arms in the air wildly. The 
 doctor seized her hand : — 
 
 " Do you know,^' he said, " that you will 
 awake your husband — who sleeps?" Poor 
 thing! the loving chord of her heart was 
 struck. 
 
 She shrunk down upon her seat, drawing 
 herself away from the physician, and putting 
 her finger on her lip, as she used to do when a 
 child. She looked round, murmuring, " Hush, 
 hush ! '' I have not even now the power to 
 detail what followed, nor do I see why I ought 
 to do so ; what good would it do to me or to 
 others, to recal the ravings of that frightful 
 disease, born, as it was, of over love, brought 
 on by anxiety and watching — throbbing in her 
 aching brain, and consuming her heart by a 
 devouring fever? This shipwreck of a gal- 
 lant nature — of beauty, and bravery, and 
 steadfastness — this crushing of human glory ! 
 the destruction of all but enfeebled life, the 
 quenching of the lamp in which we trust to 
 light us to our journey's end, this separating
 
 206 A woman's story. 
 
 of body and mind ! Alas ! it is dreadful to 
 dwell upon, even now ; but when I recalled 
 not only her nights, but weeks of sleeplessness, 
 her watching, and talking, and writing, her 
 unrest in all things, I only wondered how 1 
 could have been blind to the result. I re- 
 proached myself for the little care, the little 
 thought I had bestowed upon one I so dearly 
 loved. " I had,'' I said, " never been deceived 
 by the favourable symptoms in which my poor 
 friend exulted ;" I thought from the first mo- 
 ment that HE was doomed, and never dreamt 
 that SHE, the bright, lifesome creature, abound- 
 ing in existence, prodigal of strength, of 
 thought, of feeling for others — the spirit, the 
 mind, the essence of all good — could have 
 fallen as she did fall, in what to me seemed a 
 few brief hours. Mr. Middleton had undergone 
 no change for the worse ; it was her imagina- 
 tion, blasted into insanity by the position of 
 the light, which fell in a peculiar way upon 
 his features ! The train had been preparing 
 for some time ; this single spark set it on fire. 
 It was then that the noble, firm, self-sup. 
 porting nature of Florence came forth ; the
 
 A woman's story. 207 
 
 quiet, thoughtful girl was transformed into the 
 resolved woman. Her mother's state could 
 not be concealed from her father ; indeed, 
 Florence, so truthful was her nature, would 
 have found it very difficult to have concealed 
 anything. And this was one of the great 
 points of difference in^the characters of the 
 two cousins ; Helen delighted in the mystery 
 and excitement of concealment, Florence re- 
 velled in the frank and open truth. 
 
 How impossible it is to judge of the balance 
 — the mysterious balance — between life and 
 death ! In less than three weeks my be- 
 loved friend was taken from us ; they said her 
 brain became paralyzed. Certainly the last 
 few days of her life were tranquil ; so tranquil, 
 that we were permitted to sit by her side, to 
 moisten her lips, and perform those offices 
 of love which it is grievous to intrust to any 
 whose hearts are not bound to the sufferer by 
 the tenderest of all earthly ties. Long before 
 this, I had said to Florence, " This will kill 
 your father ;" and she answered, " She thought 
 it would save him." It is quite impossible to 
 determine how far the sympathy between mind
 
 208 A woman's story. 
 
 and body extends — where it ends, or where 
 commences ; but it was extraordinary how 
 Mr. Middleton rallied ; how, while bending as 
 a Christian bends to the will of the Almighty, 
 he strengthened himself for the sake of his 
 child — that beloved child who was now his 
 world— and whose future was to become the 
 sole object of his solicitude. It was mournful 
 to see only the shadow of his form when he 
 rose from his bed ; but he did arise from it ; 
 while she, whose anxiety on his account had 
 worked out the fatal malady that consumed, 
 and then wrecked her existence, departed 
 from among us. Well may we repeat : *' Lord, 
 the issues of life and death are in thy hand ! " 
 
 Sorrow is a great teacher ! and the crumb- 
 ling away of earthly tabernacles serves to 
 build up our homes in heaven ! — the light 
 comes out of darkness ! When this earthly 
 lamp was extinguished, and I had no power to 
 rekindle, or to garnish it — it was a joy born 
 of Mercy, to believe then, as it had been 
 graciously given me frequently to do, that he 
 who cared for liei\ as well as for us^ was great in
 
 A WOMAN S STORY. 209 
 
 wisdom, as in mercy — if this faith ever 
 wavered, I had recourse to prayer, and that 
 never failed to comfort and elevate my 
 spirit- 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 210 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 Forlorn ! the very word is like a bell, 
 
 To toll me back from thee to my sole self; 
 
 Adieu ! the fancy cannot cheat so well 
 As she is forced to do, deceiving elf. 
 
 Keats. 
 
 Mr. Middleton could not remain near the 
 scene of his former happiness ; he determined, 
 after some hesitation, to reside in the neigh- 
 bourhood of London, excusing the movement 
 to others and himself, by saying that Florence 
 now required the assistance of the best mas- 
 ters to complete an education so well com- 
 menced. No man likes to admit he is without 
 strength of mind to endure contact with the 
 inanimate things that remind him continually
 
 A woman's story. 211 
 
 of the past — that recal palpably, what men- 
 tally he can never forget. First he tried my 
 neighbourhood, but that would not do ) he 
 traced an imaginary resemblance between 
 Hampstead-heath and the downs at Little 
 Hampton. Then he took a house for a few 
 weeks at Chelsea. The mild air did not 
 ' brace ' him at all ; and the fine old stately 
 houses, so replete with memories of the past, 
 he fancied increased his melancholy. Florence 
 regretted leaving Chelsea ; the inhabitants of 
 the old Hospital rendered her walks interest- 
 ing ; while her father saw in them only men 
 trembling on the verge of the grave, she be- 
 held the heroes of the old wars, every line 
 upon whose brows was a record of victory, and 
 every wound a stamp of England's glory. 
 
 The young are curious in matters of age 
 and death, while they who feel within their 
 own tottering or sinking frames the approach 
 of what, however mysterious, is the one 
 reality of our existence, shun, rather than seek, 
 any contact with those who are hastening on 
 the same road. 
 
 The deep sorrow which Florence had en- 
 
 p2
 
 212 A WOMAN'S STORY. 
 
 (lured added years to her knowledge ; blithers 
 was a most beautiful mingling of simplicity 
 and wisdom. The memory of her mother was 
 entwined with the faith, and love, and trust, 
 which such a mother was certain to inspire : 
 she joyed to recall all she could remember, 
 from the first prayer she learned, when, a 
 little lisping child, she clung to her knee, to 
 the last song they sung together. 
 
 She delighted to talk to me of this mother ; 
 a stranger would have imagined that mother 
 to be still in life, so earnestly would she say — 
 *^ I wonder would mamma like this ?" — or, 
 ^^ How much I should wish to know if mamma 
 would approve of that !" It seemed as though 
 her mother were always present with her — as 
 if a communion of the purest kind were carried 
 on between them, which nothing could sever. 
 You would hardly have supposed they even in- 
 habited different countries. Florence would 
 occasionally say to me, with her full, yet melan- 
 choly smile, " I have been thinking that over 
 with mamma," and then recalling what I knew 
 she would have said : but she never even al- 
 luded to her mother before her father. He
 
 A woman's story. 213 
 
 had put away a portrait, painted by Lawrence 
 in the dawn of his early fame, during the 
 first year of Mrs. Middleton's wedded life ; 
 nor did Florence let him see the miniature of 
 her beloved parent, which was to her as a com- 
 panion — a friend — a treasure past all telling. 
 This was their only restraint ; but to Florence 
 it was a sad one ; whenever we met, she 
 poured forth her soul in love and memory, 
 dwelling on the past, and arranging for 
 the future, in full confidence that her mother's 
 friend must be her friend. Whatever her 
 mother might have wished to be done, she 
 joyed to do. 
 
 After he left Chelsea, Mr. Middleton tried 
 Kensington ; but that, he soon said, was too 
 courtly. Then Clapham — Norwood — Fulham 
 — these were all abandoned after a month or 
 two : at last he took a house in one of the streets 
 leading out of Park-lane, and seemed resolved 
 to indulge his restlessness by furnishing it. 
 People at that time were very fond of having 
 a house furnished in what was called en 
 suite ; that is, chair matched chair, and table 
 table — all seemed of the same family ; but he
 
 214 . A woman's story. 
 
 anticipated a later fashion, and grouped 
 rather than chassed his furniture, so that his 
 visitors hardly knew what to make of it ; and 
 what they could not quite understand, they 
 set down (so as to save all mental trouble of 
 comprehension or inquiry) to eccentricity. 
 
 He also forced himself to go into society ; 
 and by degrees his house became noted as a 
 rendezvous of learned and accomplished per- 
 sons. He did not ^ see company ' in an ex- 
 pensive way, never inviting more than ten 
 persons to dinner at a time, but classing these 
 with such exceeding good taste and tact, that 
 all appeared to feel an inclination to please 
 aud gratify others rather than to exhibit 
 themselves. He always avoided men, no 
 matter what their rank or abilities might be, 
 who rode their hobbies in company. He never 
 permitted the meeting of rival diners out ; — 
 one at a time of practical men of this descrip- 
 tion was quite enough to secure a few racy 
 and piquant anecdotes, the last hon mot of tho 
 clubs, and the chit-chat which renders so per- 
 fect the mosaic of good society. It was not so 
 much the dinner as the men — I say this, because
 
 A woman's story. 215 
 
 a dinner, being good of its kind, well dressed 
 and well served, is a wonderful stimulant to good 
 humour and even wit. An Englishman — and, 
 indeed, every man — is always more inclined to 
 think well, and speak well of things in general, 
 when he is on good terms either with his own or 
 his host's cook. While Mr. Middleton avoided 
 having all of one class of men, he never intro- 
 duced persons who were likely to jar or clash 
 with each other ; however vam the man of 
 letters may he of his last essay or article, he is 
 not likely to have his self-esteem depressed by 
 the diplomatist ; the poet can amalgamate with 
 the philosopher, for each respects the other; 
 the musician may feel the eulogy he expresses 
 when he speaks of the painter's skill, and the 
 historical painter warm in the praise he be- 
 stows upon the creative mind of a great archi- 
 tect ; there is no rivalry in this. I have 
 always observed that rivalry elicits sparks, 
 which are pretty certain to end in fire ; I never 
 knew many persons of the same calling meet 
 together, who did not separate with a certain 
 soreness in which the host was implicated, 
 although it originated in small jealousies,
 
 216 A woman's story. 
 
 which, if taxed with, they would be ashamed 
 to confess. It is not only poor women, who, 
 however greatly they admire abstract excellence 
 in each other, do not much care to see it 
 shining forth in the blaze of beauty and popu- 
 larity — it is not only poor half-educated women, 
 I say, who are jealous of each other — I could 
 tell such stories, minute, as well as enlarged, 
 of the envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness of 
 the other sex, as would draw down upon me 
 the thunders of their wrath : but it is no plea- 
 sure to me to tell such tales, unless I am moved 
 thereto by some object more worthy than the 
 recording of evil for the mere sake of the 
 doing so. 
 
 These social meetings were not confined to 
 gentlemen; the chaperone whom Mr. Middle- 
 ton had selected for his daughter might safely 
 be pronounced ' old,' despite the extent of 
 the patent which the fair sex take out for 
 perpetual youth ; but Mrs. Dellamere was de- 
 decidedly 'old' — dressed old — thought old 
 thoughts ; while the high polish of old- 
 fashioned manners dignified her words and acts. 
 It was impossible for the most scandal-loving
 
 A woman's story. 217 
 
 person to say that Mr. Middleton was going 
 to marry his daughter's governess; for the 
 lady was old enough to be his mother, and 
 there was none of the silly assumption of 
 youth in the high, close, black silk dress, and 
 the perfectly white hair frizzed round a brow 
 that had been wrinkled by much bravely- 
 endured sorrow. Mrs. Dellamere and I were 
 great friends ; she netted while I knitted ; we 
 taught each other our new stitches, and mea- 
 sured our work to see who had done most. 
 And it was impossible not to be amused by the 
 old-fashioned stateliness of her deportment, 
 while you respected her high principles, and 
 her devotion to her ^ young lady.' Florence 
 listened and observed ; and her father never 
 failed to question her the next morning on 
 the topics that had been discussed at their 
 last reunion ; thus she learned mentally to 
 feed upon society, and was also expected in 
 the evening to contribute her quota of amuse- 
 ment by playing on her harp and singing. 
 Still, Florence wanted a companion, not so 
 much for her feelings and affections as for her 
 tastes ; she knew many young ladies, but she
 
 218 A woman's story. 
 
 was so thoroughly English in her mode of form- 
 ing intimacies, that the acquaintance evapo- 
 rated before anything approaching, to intimacy 
 commenced. Frequently she would revert to 
 her cousin Helen, of whom we had discovered 
 no trace, despite the efforts we made to learn 
 where she was concealed, or how she and her 
 father were supported. For some time I con- 
 tinued to hear from Mrs. Lyndsey, receiving 
 strangely written letters, full of complaining 
 words, and ill-arranged sentences. Then the 
 correspondence ceased altogether, and I heard 
 of her only. Some absurd story, or outburst 
 of extravagance, would come to my knowledge; 
 but no token of any kind did I receive from the 
 one I loved so dearly. 
 
 Florence would long for this unknown 
 cousin, and endeavour to induce Jerry (who 
 for some time, had been a supernumerary of 
 the establishment, and came and went accord- 
 ing to his own pleasure), to speak of his " dar- 
 ling Miss Helen!" but the poor fellow had ceased 
 to be eloquent on the subject — an autumnal 
 tint of what might have been ^ rosy red,* would 
 flush his cheek ; his voice in reply become 
 tremulous, and his eyes fill with tears, as he
 
 A woman's story. 219 
 
 turned away, muttering, " Don't talk to me, 
 if it's plasing to you at all — I don't like it — 
 I can't stand it ! I've nothing to say — only — 
 God bless her !'' 
 
 The miniature world at Hampstead, divided 
 as it was into gossips wdiolesale and retail — 
 persons who talked and persons who listened — 
 had ceased to remember Hhe Lyndseys.' The 
 houses they had inhabited, both on the Heath 
 and on the hill side, passed into other hands — 
 changed tenants, it might be, half a dozen 
 times. The lame dressmaker and her sister 
 were still in the same cottage, and their poor 
 mother in the same state of suffering and 
 silence ; the Cobbs were there also, and Mrs. 
 Major Cobb's dresses were as young in their 
 form and material as heretofore, though cer- 
 tainly the lady was changed. She strode on 
 as manfully as ever ; but her head was bent, 
 and the feather pennon floated three inches 
 lower than of old. Her hatred against pretty 
 faces had become a positive disease, and was 
 so well known, that no servant, with tolerably 
 good looks, ever ventured to solicit a situation 
 in her house. She talked loudly of being tired
 
 2'20 A woman's story, 
 
 of the peace establishment, and of her deter- 
 mination soon to go on active service. She 
 once stormed the Horse-Guards to inquire why 
 Brevet-Major Cobb was not ' made full,' as 
 their services demanded it. The Commander- 
 in-Chief said she ought to be cashiered ; and 
 a lot of the clerks came to Hampstead Heath 
 two following Sundays to have a good look at 
 her. The major said, if he had known it at 
 the time, he would have given them in 
 charge ; but Mrs. Brevet-Major took it as a 
 compliment, drew her lips over her great 
 teeth into a simper, and then showed them 
 in full drill by a smile — hung her head on 
 one side, blush-fashion, and crossed her feather- 
 pennon over her face to conceal it : then toss- 
 ing it playfully away with a loud ^ ha, ha!' 
 which sounded like the laugh of a strong- 
 bodied laundress, she called the panting major 
 ^ a dear naughty child for being at his old 
 tricks again — jealous ! — ^jealous of those sweet 
 Horse- Guard boys, as he was of the Rajah 
 Singadrabad long ago. If he were inclined to 
 do what he ought to do, he would ask those 
 recruits to the mess — she always called dinner
 
 A WOMAN^S STORY. 221 
 
 ^ mess ' — ^' nothing was to be done without 
 interest : and one of the dear fellows she knew 
 was nephew by marriage to the secretary-at- 
 war ; would he be a dear lovee, and take her 
 advice ?'' The major only ^pished!' and 
 'stuffed!' and puffed, and evinced a belief 
 that she had made them both ridiculous; while, 
 forgetting the sentimental, she declared it 
 was a sad thing when a delicate woman was 
 obliged to unsex herself to get her husband on 
 in the world. The little major had grown 
 shorter within the last few years ; but people 
 do not feel the change which others see, or, if 
 they do, will not admit it. The Misses Saunders 
 still apostrophized the Yale of Health as the 
 loveliest valley in England, although the eldest 
 had been sadly afflicted with rheumatism, and 
 the youngest, it was suspected, suffered from 
 the reality of the disease, although she still 
 wore transparent dresses of clear muslin in 
 frost and snow. But these people, and others 
 too numerous or too insignificant to enumerate, 
 had forgotten all about 'the Lyndseys ! * — one 
 wonder hounds another out of the memory of 
 the public ! The dressmaker, indeed, never
 
 ^22 A avoman's story. 
 
 ^ did up ' my bonnet, or fitted on a dress, with- 
 out inquiring if I ever heard anything of Miss 
 Helen — ^dear Miss Helen!' but she was the 
 only exception, unless I instance that once, 
 when Florence was spending the day with 
 roe, she expressed a desire to see the house on 
 the Heath where ' Cousin Helen ' had lived ; 
 and, as we walked there, we met Miss Saun- 
 ders. Florence had become a very distin- 
 guished-looking girl, and it was her father's 
 pleasure to dress her richly ; her appearance 
 and manner attracted my curious neighbour at 
 once, and when I mentioned that my young 
 friend was Miss Helen Lyndsey's cousin, she 
 got up an extemporaneous sort of interest 
 about her immediately, which at first attracted 
 Florence's kindly feelings. After sounding 
 Miss Middleton to discover how she felt to- 
 wards * the interesting runaway,' she expressed 
 her pleasure at finding that they thought 
 exactly alike ; that Helen always was a very 
 clever, engaging — in short, a highly interest- 
 ing little girl ; and that she always fought her 
 batiks, 
 
 ** Fought her battles!" repeated Florence,
 
 A WOMAN S STORY. 223 
 
 who was by no means quick at catching an 
 idea, or in reading a character, but most firm 
 and straightforward in defending one ; " what 
 battles could a young girl like her have to 
 fight ? neither my uncle's faults nor misfor- 
 tunes are to be attributed to his child V^ Miss 
 Saunders looked astonished : it had never en- 
 tered into her philosophy publicly to acknow- 
 ledge a relative who had been once unfortu- 
 nate ; yet here was Miss Middleton speaking 
 of her poor, half-crazed runaway uncle with- 
 out reserve or change of countenance, as if he 
 had been an earl. Miss Saunders had not suf- 
 ficient honesty in her own composition to 
 credit that Florence was really honest in re- 
 sponding to the praise she bestowed upon 'clever 
 little Helen Lyndsey ; ' and such was the 
 character of her own mind, that she believed 
 some good fortune must, after all, have come 
 to 'the Lyndseys,' otherwise that ver\ ' stylish' 
 girl, Miss Middleton — an heiress, it was said 
 — would hardly have become so animated in 
 her defence ! 
 
 This is a very common way of thinking with 
 narrow-minded persons ; who imagine there
 
 224 A woman's story. 
 
 must be an under-current of selfishness be- 
 neath every noble or even kindly opinion that 
 one human being expresses of another. Such 
 folks are incapable of taking a broad view of 
 anything; they would look at the Andes 
 through a microscope, and count the beatings 
 of a dying pulse from mere curiosity. In 
 fact, Miss Saunders was perplexed ; she was 
 anxious to please Florence, because she was 
 well dressed, and had, as I have said, the re- 
 putation of being rich. After a few moments, 
 during which she walked in silence by my 
 side, she took refuge in the last gossip news of 
 the village; floundered amid sundry observa- 
 tions of the ordinary uncharitable kind ; and, 
 after describing Mrs. Cobb's new dinner- 
 service, of the elephant pattern (with silver 
 covers, which she had her own ^ doubts ' were 
 plated), annoyed, perhaps, by the little in- 
 terest we took in the * nothings ^ which ill 
 nature turned into ^somethings, 'she bade us 
 good-morning. 
 
 " It is no wonder Aunt Lyndsey's mind 
 was so narrow, and her temper so acid, if such 
 were her associates," said Florence. '^ I really
 
 A woman's story. 225 
 
 think both temper and taste must be injured 
 by contact with such persons. I felt inclined 
 to like her after the first sentence, despite her 
 manner, but was obliged to fall back upon the 
 impression she gave me before she spoke. 
 How different from the poor dressmaker, whose 
 tears bore witness to her remembrance of 
 ' such kind customers !'" 
 
 "Yes," I said; ^^and yet the poor dress- 
 maker might have been forgiven if she had 
 made no inquiry ; for one injury often, I re- 
 gret to say, effaces the memory of numberless 
 obligations." 
 
 "What injury did she receive?'' inquired 
 Florence, anxiously ?—-" What injury could 
 she have received from them ?" 
 
 "When people are distressed/' I replied, 
 " they cease in many instances to be punctual 
 paymasters; and I know that when Mrs. 
 Lyndsey left Hampstead, she owed poor Miss 
 Ry land an account." 
 
 Florence's cheek flushed, and we walked on 
 in silence until we stood opposite the house. 
 It had just (according to the phrase) been 
 'done up,' and its glare and white-faced 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 A woman's story. 
 
 cleanliness jarred upon the little history we 
 attached to it ; it should have had, we thought, 
 a sober and retiring look. We sat beneath the 
 shadow of one of those Alpine trees, and 
 looked towards the distant scene of mighty 
 ' London, over which a huge pall of mystery 
 floats by night and day ; we could hear no 
 sound of the rolling thunder that resounds 
 through its streets; but there it rested, en- 
 shrouded in a semi-transparent cloud of its 
 own creation ; the dome of Sfc. Paul's, or one 
 of the towers of our proud abbey, or a holy 
 spire, bursting forth occasionally, and catching 
 the light, and then disappearing, while 
 some other object became touched by the same 
 magic influence, and issued into sight, as 
 the steam of clouds and smoke broke into 
 fragmemts of denseyapour; all being suggestive, 
 as the far-ofi" view of a large city even is, of 
 reflections that crowd the imagination, and 
 gather the past, and present them into one 
 grand whole. 
 
 Florence gazed upon the scene until her 
 eyes filled with tears, and it was long before 
 she spoke ; and when she did, it was to re-
 
 A avoman's story. 227 
 
 quest that we might walk to Miss Ryland's. 
 We did so, and saw the pale, earnest face of 
 the lame sister bending in the window, over a 
 clump of sickly-looking primroses which seemed 
 to have been recently transplanted from the 
 more genial bank — 
 
 ** Whereon the wild thyme blows," 
 
 to the earthenware enclosure, contrasted me 
 sadly with the broad green leaves of the country 
 plant. The flowers had drooped, and the poor 
 girl was propping them up by various little 
 artifices, training the leaves to support them, 
 and putting a stick in here and there to catch 
 the blossoms ; but they would droop for all 
 her pains, and when she raised her eyes from 
 her half-pleasing, half-painful, task, she saw 
 we were observing her. I had not questioned 
 Florence as to the object of her visit, but I 
 conjectured rightly. After a few questions, 
 my young friend mentioned her cousin, and 
 something in the kindly tone of her gentle 
 voice at once led the dressmakers to launch 
 forth in praise of Helen. The poor lame girl 
 repeated with flushed cheek various bits of 
 poetry which she remembered ^ the dear voung 
 
 q2 *
 
 228 A woman's story. 
 
 lady ' writing, as she sat on a little stool, while 
 waiting for some alteration or addition to a 
 frock or a bonnet. Florence managed with the 
 tact of a delicate mind — a tact which can never 
 be taught — to inquire as to Mrs. Lyndsey's 
 debt to them, while I was wondering how she 
 would accomplish it : and the reply astonished 
 us both. They exclaimed together, that Mrs. 
 Lyndsey owed them nothing. I was amazed, 
 for Miss Eyland had spoken of the debt 
 to me ; and I had asked more than once, 
 afterwards, if she ever heard from Mrs. Lynd- 
 sey ? and the reply had been " no.'' I now said 
 on the subject I was not aware they had re- 
 ceived any communication from Mrs. Lyndsey, 
 and the eldest said, "Nor have we !" Upon 
 which the lamesisterlookedreproachfully at her, 
 as much as to say, ^ Surely you will not tell !' 
 
 "If you have not heard from Mrs. Lynd- 
 sey," said Florence," how can you have re- 
 ceived the amount of your account ?" 
 
 Neither replied to the question until it was 
 repeated. 
 
 " It is some time since," said Miss Eyland, 
 at last ; " and although my sister seems angry,
 
 A woman's story. 229 
 
 I cannot see any liarm in telling the fact. It 
 is greatly to Miss Helen's honour, I am sure, 
 and if I did not mention it to you, ma'am, at 
 once, it was simply because I was told not to 
 mention to any one that I had heard from her. 
 At three different periods we received money 
 from Miss Helen, which paid our account in 
 full, and she commanded us to destroy the 
 letters, which we did honourably." The hope 
 that brightened Florence's face faded, " Was 
 there no residence — no date ?" she inquired. 
 
 " A date, but no residence," she said. 
 
 " And the post-mark?" 
 
 "Went into the fire," replied the dress- 
 maker in an unconscious, innocent tone, that 
 made me smile. 
 
 "She's a fine creature!" exclaimed Florence, 
 " but, for all that, she must not deprive me of 
 the pleasure I anticipated;" and she forced 
 her purse into the lame girl's hand. 
 
 " It was so noble of her not to forget us ; 
 and then, a young lady like her to have writen 
 so meek an apology fordividing the account, 
 when we never dreamed of receiving it at all ; 
 I often fancy she has been as considerate to
 
 230 A woman's story. 
 
 others. May God bless her !" added Miss 
 Ryland, as she turned away to conceal her 
 tears — •• may God always bless her?" 
 
 This little incident afforded me the warmest 
 pleasure, while it involved me in much per- 
 plexity. I made it my business to inquire in 
 various quarters, and from several persons, 
 and found that in other instances Helen had 
 remitted small sums of money to those o 
 whom her father had been indebted, enjoining 
 a secrecy which, in many instances, was need- 
 less ; for persons are more apt to talk of what 
 they lose, than what either justice or benevo- 
 lence bestows. 
 
 Neither Mr. Middleton nor myself could form 
 the least idea as to how this money was ob- 
 tained. We could not for a moment suppose 
 that Mr. Lyndsey's indolent habits had been 
 conquered, and, that he was making a fortune 
 or even enough to maintain himself and his 
 child. Mrs. Lyndsey never mentioned her hus- 
 band or daughter except when all other sources 
 of lamentation failed; — then, indeed, she poured 
 forth her complaints at their want of nature, at 
 their ingratitude, at their abandonment, quite
 
 A woman's story. 231 
 
 forgetting that it was she who had left them ! 
 — and that during a period of bitter sorrow and 
 trial ! Still she had made up her mind that 
 she was a victim, that she was a forsaken! 
 and so, from all we heard, she drooped her 
 beflowered head over her amber silk, and en- 
 deavoured to impress all who came within her 
 sphere with the belief, that she had been most 
 hardly treated by an ungrateful husband and 
 a more ungrateful child. Her means were 
 limited ; and her selfishness prevented the 
 supposition that she would bestow a farthing 
 wherever she could avoid it. How, then, Helen 
 had found means to act as she had done, we 
 were all perplexed to discover ; still, I must 
 say, in justice to my own penetration, that — I 
 had my suspicions. 
 
 About a month after our interview with the 
 Rylands^ I was dining out ; the party was one 
 of those monster dinners that set you wonder- 
 ing how all the things can be got together, 
 and brought in order upon a table ; while the 
 trained machinery of hands and arms out- 
 stretched and active, placing and replacing, 
 the unheard footsteps and moveless counte-
 
 232 A woman's story. 
 
 nances of the servants, would lead to the belief 
 that you are waited upon by automata, but that 
 you have a certain conviction that such silent 
 living creatures must of necessity be very ob- 
 servant, and you are even led to speculate upon 
 what they will say, when freed from restraint, 
 and at perfect liberty in those unexplored 
 * basements,' where they congregate. The 
 dinner was on the whole very stupid ; that is, 
 as far as general conversation went. Small 
 dinners are usually devoted to cliques^ and 
 woe to the occasional intruder into the eight- 
 OT'ten-cUque — dramatic, literary, or artistic. A 
 word or two may, by courtesy, be addressed 
 to the stranger, but the jests, the conversation, 
 the stories, are all so conventional as to be al- 
 most unintelligible to any but * the privileged/ 
 The duets and trios of a large dinner party, 
 however discordant they may sometimes be, 
 are preferable to the ^ talk ' of a small clique 
 dinner. I have no reason to complain of either ; 
 I never wish to contradict, to interfere, or to 
 sparkle. I always find plenty to interest and 
 amuse in the people ; a train of thought which, 
 even as the grain of mustard seed grows into a
 
 A woman's story. 233 
 
 tree, arises out of I hardly know what, and 
 goes on perpetually increasing. On my left was 
 seated a semi-blue — an awful woman, who had 
 written a little and talked a great deal about 
 it. She had a huge prononcee nose, which 
 lorded it over the other features, a quantity of 
 faded flaxen hair in flowing ringlets, around a 
 face of massive proportions, a mouth, made for 
 containing a great deal at once, and which did 
 not shrink from its destiny, and a profusion of 
 bright pink ribbands in this flaxen hair — a 
 woman of fifty with flaxen ringlets and bright 
 pink ribbands ! She had been a newspaper 
 reviewer, and gave vent to sundry small 
 bitternesses by way of wit ; she had a most 
 unfeminine talent for contradiction, and difiered 
 from everyone within her sphere, declaring 
 she never read a book which became univer- 
 sally popular, because, as a free woman, she 
 would not be led by the mass. Of course I 
 shrunk into my usual * Nobody,' beside this 
 literary Amazon, who talked over my head, 
 and across me, to the extent of flourishing 
 her fork in my face. On my right was a 
 showily-dressed, handsome man, magnificent
 
 234 A woman's story. 
 
 in chain, waistcoat, rings, pins, and a well- 
 curled Brutus — the fashion of the time — 
 which, in emulation of the Eegent's wig, stood 
 up and about, every hair staring its neigh- 
 bour out of countenance. An old friend of 
 mine used to say, such persons were invalu- 
 able in a large room, to dress the corners ; 
 at a dinner-table, it was a fatigue to look at 
 him. The lady, my neighbour, quoted Byron 
 (with whom she said she had danced) over a 
 fricandeau^ lisped a Latin phrase amid the soft 
 confusion of a souffle^ and lectured upon the 
 indelicacy of the anticipated long waists while 
 coquetting with a salad. Now the chain and 
 the Brutus, and all the component parts of my 
 gentleman neighbour, took this very coolly ; he 
 seemed to think that permitting the lady to 
 talk was paying her an indirect compliment, 
 at all events, until he had finished his dinner ; 
 and she became proportionably excited at the 
 idea of having established a conversation with 
 the handsomest man at the table, particularly 
 as the young lady at the other side was a very 
 lovely girl, in the first bewitching blush of 
 womanhood — such a creature as is rarely en-
 
 A woman's story. 235 
 
 countered at a dinner party. The secret was, 
 that the gentleman would not fatigue himself 
 by paying attention to anything until the 
 dinner was over ; and though, after looking 
 twice at the pretty girl, he felt convinced she 
 was pretty, still the other gave him less trou- 
 ble, and his vanity (the vanity of a full-grown 
 man is very extensive and determined) was 
 soothed by attracting the attention of the 
 most * clever ' woman in the room. 
 
 I could not help speculating how any unfor- 
 tunate husband could manage such a woman 
 in domestic life, and came to the conclusion 
 that they ought to change garments. I was . 
 not at all surprised when I heard that this 
 clever woman was separated from her husband, 
 on the ground of " incompatibility of temper.*^ 
 I had been amused for some time by the lady's 
 efforts and the gentleman's nonchalance, but 
 they grew wearisome ; and amid the din, I 
 began counting how many wore turbans, and 
 how many caps — peering phrenologically 
 at heads, and catching the stray sentences and 
 odds and ends of opinions, which are flung, 
 kaleidoscope-fashion, across and around a din-
 
 236 A woman's story. 
 
 ner-table during the third course ; and then 
 some one word sent me wandering far away 
 from the well-bred festival ; and I leaned 
 quietly back in my chair, until the lady, with 
 a most unintellectual titter, intended as a pre- 
 face to a witticism, turned the hot glory of 
 her countenance upon me, and inquired " if I 
 was counting the variety of sweetmeats in the 
 epergne ?" The dinner had given place to a 
 tasteful dessert ; fruits and flowers mingled 
 amid the diamond glass and frosted silver ; 
 delicious perfumes ascended in light vapoury 
 clouds to the ceiling ; fairy bouquets floated 
 like water nyijiphs in the finger-glasses ; and 
 the smiling hostess (whose taste mfete arrange- 
 ments was perfection) was in the act of ex- 
 changing her sparkling flowers with a K.C.B., 
 who found it difficult to discover an unadorned 
 button-hole wherein to fix the favour, when 
 my attention was absorbed by hearing a very 
 calm, placid looking man ask my gentleman 
 neighbour if he had read H. L's last Reverie. 
 I found myself repeating H. L. — H. L., and 
 :my heart palpitated ; while, without hearing 
 !my neighbour's reply, I inquired who was 
 
 ;h. l. ?
 
 A woman's story. 237 
 
 " Oh dear ! do you not know ? have you 
 not heard ?" exclaimed the has hieu ; "why all 
 tlie world echoes that inquiry. Do you not 
 know ?'' 
 
 " I fancy this lady knows as much as any 
 one else," was my neighbour's reply. "H.L. 
 is an invisible poet." 
 
 " Invisible girl !" said the lady. 
 
 *• I suppose you will say that the mind is of 
 no sex,- and yet you contend that the unknown 
 is a lady." 
 
 "None but a woman could breathe such 
 tenderness. '* 
 
 A strange expression passed over the gentle- 
 man's countenance, while he said in an in- 
 quiring tone, — 
 
 " And 'the passion V 
 
 The lady drew herself up, and replied in a 
 voice poised to the most correct inflexion, 
 " she was no judge of that." The man fol- 
 lowed up his victory, — *' And the strength, 
 the play of imagination, the grasp of intellect, 
 — are they, too, feminine ? " 
 
 '^ I could quote you scores of women who 
 have excelled in all."
 
 238 A woman's story. 
 
 " Ladies always excel ! " 
 
 " Then," she continued, *' the argument is 
 at an end." 
 
 " Ladies never argue but for victory ; so it 
 is better to give in at once." 
 
 I spoke : — " In the argument, you have for- 
 gotten the lady." 
 
 ^' Oh, the poet — no, there is little chance of 
 being permitted to do that. An author sel- 
 dom permits the public to become forgetful." 
 This was said with a smile and a sneer — a sort 
 of mingled expression, the exact meaning of 
 which it would be difficult to define. The 
 great lady, who had written a few poems in 
 addition to her reviews, and had once sent a play 
 to a manager, cast a reproachful look at the 
 object of her former attentions, w^hile an in- 
 dignant reply, which, however, I had not the 
 courage to utter, sent the blood to my cheeks. 
 The over dressed gentleman looked round, as 
 if he had said something which, if not heard, 
 was worth hearing ; but the old man who had 
 started the inquiry could not remain silent ! § 
 
 " It is the public, sir," he said, " who will 
 not suflfer the author to be forgotten ; at least,
 
 A woman's story. 239 
 
 not as long as the freshness of novelty and 
 fashion is attached to productions, the popu- 
 larity of which declines after a time/' 
 
 *' Not, surely, if they are of sterling merit," 
 observed another. 
 
 '* I have lived long enough to see sterling 
 merit out of fashion," replied the old man, drily. 
 
 " Authors are injudicious in out-writing 
 themselves ; they should not write when they 
 have out-lived their popularity," said the fine 
 gentleman. 
 
 " But they must live," continued the old 
 man ; " they are seldom so over-paid as to be 
 able to do more than exist, particularly in that 
 sphere for which talent and taste are supposed 
 to fit them." 
 
 " They are sometimes vastly amusing, 
 though ; I could name one, two, or three who 
 never come well out," observed the would-be 
 critic, while sipping his wine, *' but who take 
 one dreadfully in occasionally; for you na- 
 turally expect people to talk as they write ; 
 and yet one I know, in particular, who never 
 says — never absolutely says — anything I can 
 understand."
 
 240 A woman's story. 
 
 ^'Thatj^ said the old man, fixing his deep- 
 set grey eyes on the speaker, " that, sir, may 
 be your fault, not his^ 
 
 After a moment, the over-dressed gentleman 
 bowed, and said — "Perfectly true ;'' and his 
 fair friend tittered. I could have almost 
 pitied him ; the tables were so completely 
 turned, rather by the manner than the words. 
 
 *■ But who," I again inquired, " who is the 
 lady with the mysterious initials ?" 
 
 *' Some say, madam,^' answered the old 
 gentleman, " that the mysterious initials, 
 ^H. L.,' belong to a French lady; for I be- 
 lieve there is ample proof that the communica- 
 tions come from abroad; others, that the 
 translations from the Latin and Greek poets, 
 which are occasionally given, bear witness of 
 classic knowledge, and a taste only brought to 
 perfection in our Universities ; in short, during 
 the last three days, the whole world is alive 
 with curiosity to discover who the unknown 
 poet is. But, to my mind, the less that is 
 seen of an author the better ; I have known 
 popularity injured, if not destroyed, by the 
 sight of an unpicturesque person ; and, as
 
 A woman's story. 241 
 
 everyone forms an idea, unless the poet should 
 be a Proteus, it would be impossible to satisfy 
 all." 
 
 " I like the dramatic pieces which have 
 appeared in the new gazette better than the 
 poems,'' said a lady, whom I had observed as 
 taking much interest in the conversation ; 
 " they are evidently the productions of an ex- 
 perienced dramatist." 
 
 ** The poems," said another, '^ have all the 
 fire and fervour of youth." 
 
 " The translations show such depth of learn- 
 ing, and such a thorough acquaintance with 
 the subject ; while the translator's notes con- 
 tain the ablest criticism I have ever read," said 
 
 * 
 
 the old gentleman. 
 
 I was bewildered. The initials ^ H. L.' had 
 struck upon my heart. I combined them with 
 Helen Lyndsey, and thought, that as she had 
 found a market for her talent, I had discovered 
 how she had gained means to discharge her 
 father's debts ; but I knew she was not an 
 * experienced dramatist,' and I could not fancy 
 her a critic or a classic. 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 A woman's story. 
 
 " Are you not going to follow the ladies ?" 
 inquired the fine gentleman. 
 
 I had not perceived that the ladies had 
 risen, so absorbed was I by my conjectures ; 
 and, as I stumbled after them, the old man 
 said — " We must talk again about this mys- 
 tery. I see you think, or hope, you have dis- 
 covered it.''
 
 243 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Too faithful heart ! thou never canst retrieve 
 Thy withered hopes : conceal the cruel pain ! 
 O'er thy lost treasure still in silence grieve ; 
 But never to the unfeeling ear complain ; 
 From fruitless struggles, dearly bought, refrain !" 
 
 TiGHE. 
 
 If the half-hour before dinner is proverbially- 
 stupid, the hour — or, as (happily gone) used 
 to be in the drinking days of England, the 
 hours — after^ were, in general, very weari- 
 some. Your ^ show ladies,' young or old, 
 those who put on their ' company manners,' 
 as they do their company dresses — for a pur- 
 pose, seldom take the trouble to speak to their 
 fellow-women in the drawing-room. Ensconced 
 in sofa corners, or extended in a way that 
 
 would spoil the ruffs of their great grand- 
 
 R 2
 
 244 A woman's story. 
 
 mothers without the aid of a clear-starcher — 
 they indulge in the dolce far niente to their 
 hearts* content, and will hardly take the 
 trouble to notice the most interesting denoue- 
 ment, or describe the most lovely draperies. 
 Those who can sing will rarely sing until the 
 gentlemen come up, and a Nobody like me, 
 who has neither sons nor daughters to marry, 
 invariably finds ample time for the ' musing,' 
 rather than reflection, which follows dinner in 
 the sleepy atmosphere of the luxurious with- 
 drawing room. If the lady of the house be 
 very good-natured she will give me a nod, or 
 blow me a kiss from the tips of her gloves, 
 across the room ; and no matter how dull I 
 look, she will say, *^ Ah ! I see, amusing yourself 
 as usual, we never mind youy 
 
 On the evening I refer to, however, I was 
 not left entirely to myself; the lady, a Mrs. 
 Hamilton, who had given her opinion concern, 
 ing the mysterious poet, renewed the conver- 
 sation by abruptly saying, " I think, nay, I 
 am certain, that the author of these poems is 
 not only a woman, but a foreigner. I have 
 seen the handwriting, which is very bad, and
 
 A WOMAN S STORr. 245 
 
 the spelling worse ; now, no one who can 
 write, as she writes, could spell badly, unless 
 she were a foreigner !'' 
 
 Helen's careless spelling, arising from her 
 habit of thinking how to express — not how she 
 was to spell — her thoughts, came fully to my 
 remembrance, and my hopes revived. I did 
 not, however, ask any questions, or even hint 
 a difference of opinion, and the lady continued, 
 " I have a bit of her writing at this moment 
 in my possession. I am curious in such things, 
 and, as you seem interested, I will show it to 
 you." 
 
 My heart beat, while with considerable for- 
 mality she drew forth a pocket-book, and 
 placing it on her lap, opened it with much 
 care : it was filled with torn and soiled scraps, 
 and taking them out one by one, she said, 
 ^^ Here it is ! — but no, this is a bit of Hatfield's 
 writing, he who shot at that dear old king ; I 
 had a great deal of trouble to get that ; and — 
 this — but this is a morsel of the real Mrs. 
 Glasse's way of keeping her cooking memo- 
 randa — curious ! look, how oddly she wrote 
 dumpling — then apple — cloves in the middle ;
 
 246 A woman's story. 
 
 and this, I should not wondei if this was it " — I 
 extended my hand — " it is either her writing, 
 or Mrs. Trimmer's receipt in poetry for blacking 
 (she who wrote so charmingly about Flapsey 
 and Dicksey you know !)" 
 
 It certainly was not Helen's writing, neither 
 was it the poetical receipt. I was almost too in- 
 terested in the subject to think, as I had often 
 thought previously, of the weakness that led 
 Mrs. Hamilton to prize things, not because of 
 their worth, but their oddity. She turned 
 paper over paper, gazing at each with her 
 round, good-natured eyes, while I sat by in an 
 agony .of suspense. 
 
 ^' No," she said at last ; " no, I have not 
 got it at all — it must be at home ; but you 
 could have made nothing of it — the most ob- 
 scure pot-hooks and hangers you ever saw ! 
 Moore and Southey write exquisite hands ; 
 and, by the way, notwithstanding what Disraeli 
 says, I quite believe the fact, that people's 
 characters can be traced in their handwriting. 
 I am sure it holds good with young Byron — 
 do you not think so ?'' 
 
 I had never seen his handwriting — how
 
 A woman's story. 247 
 
 could I tell ? I had evidently fallen in Mrs. 
 Hamilton's esteem, but after a time she showed 
 me a bit of the ' Corsair/ which certainly had 
 a most careless, untameable character — up and 
 down, in and out ; and I fear that even my 
 enthusiasm for the great poet was so much 
 checked by the new belief which had taken 
 possession of my mind, that ^ H. L/ and Helen 
 Lyndsey were one and the same person, that 
 I seemed unworthy of the trouble the good 
 soul took to interest and inform my ignor- 
 ance. 
 
 " There is one thing certain !" she continued, 
 " the author, if this popularity continue, must 
 be more or less than human not to stand forth ; 
 and, let her be as old as the pyramids, and as 
 ugly as Sycorax, she is sure of, at least, one 
 season's fame following, and many would think 
 a whole life well spent to achieve tJiat.''^ 
 
 I shuddered for poor Helen, and asked 
 Mrs. Hamilton — ^' if she had ever known an 
 instance where such popularity contributed to 
 a woman's happiness ?" 
 
 " Happiness," she repeated ; " why people 
 form such different ideas of what constitutes
 
 248 A woman's story. 
 
 happiness. Some place it in one or other of 
 the varieties of fame ; some in a bread-and- 
 milk sort of existence, inseparable from hus- 
 band, home, and children ; some consider 
 happiness to be a mighty clapping of hands, 
 and large quantities of praise in the morn- 
 ing papers ; others again place it in specu- 
 lation. I can remember the South Sea Bubble, 
 when all England should have been sent to 
 Bedlam. I believe many couple it with good 
 eating ; some, I believe, would, like the Nea- 
 politans, believe that happiness consists in 
 sleeping in the sun — only, unfortunately, in 
 England we have no sun to sleep in ! I 
 heard a clever man say, that no one who 
 entered on public work but believed public 
 praise the most valuable reward ; and I 
 really think there is truth in the remark ; 
 To bring the thing home : I did a piece of 
 embroidery some years ago; which was shown 
 to Queen Charlotte, and she said, * It is quite 
 equal to Linwood's.' Well, ffor months and 
 months after, I was ill-content with the appro- 
 bation my relatives and friends bestowed upon 
 my handiwork. The county paper had re-
 
 A woman's story. 249 
 
 peated the Queen's praise, and everything I 
 did, whether in cross-stitch, long-stitch, tent- 
 stitch, or even cambric veining, I wanted the 
 Queen to see. It is all past and gone now ; 
 but I suffered bitterly from a lack of the pub- 
 lic praise, of which I had only tasted. It had 
 never been my food, but even the aroma was 
 now sufficient to disturb my brain. 
 
 " A woman," I replied, '^ has so little acknow- 
 ledged influence in public life, that she is 
 better out of it altogether." 
 
 " Very likely," said Mrs. Hamilton, smiling, 
 and evidently thinking my opinion was not 
 worth having ; " very likely, but, for all that, 
 people will think a great deal of it. It is 
 pleasant to be popular and made much of. 
 Why men, great lordly men, will throw away 
 their consistency, their fortunes, their cha- 
 racters, their lives, for praise, or even notoriety. 
 I grant you it is a mistake and a pity, but it is 
 no less Si fact ; and you would feel its truth as 
 keenly as I do, if you had been praised by the 
 Queen, and seen the praise repeated in your 
 own county paper." 
 
 When the old gentleman came up. I waited
 
 250 A woman's story. 
 
 with some anxiety, expecting the conversation 
 he had promised, he looked at me as though 
 we had never met before ; and, in fact, I saw 
 that just then he could not have explained 
 anything, much less a mystery. 
 
 The party separated, not without sundry 
 deprecatory remarks and sneers against the 
 young poet by the disappointed authoress. 
 
 In the morning I communicated my con- 
 jectures to Florence, who had been reading 
 one of H. L.'s Dramatic Scenes, without having 
 an idea that her cousin Helen was the author. 
 My suspicion, I can hardly tell why, had re- 
 solved itself into a certainty — one of those 
 obstinate ^ certainties ' that take possession 
 of the mind, and for which one cannot account. 
 Florence shared my anxiety, but not my 
 belief; indeed, my young friend's mind had 
 been lately much engrossed by faith in the 
 infallible goodness in which first love never 
 fails to enshrine its first idol. Florence was 
 not what is vulgarly called ^ in love.' She 
 had not dressed, and danced, and sung, and 
 flirted herself into a passion, but she had 
 sufiered herself to become, at first interested
 
 A woman's story. 251 
 
 and afterwards almost absorbed, by the atten- 
 tions of a gentleman young enough to secure 
 affection, and sufficiently her senior to com- 
 mand respect. 
 
 I was not astonished that Florence was at- 
 tracted by his personal beauty and his vivid 
 imagination ; but, with all my love for her, I 
 was rather surprised that Mr. Mariey had been, 
 on the first evening of their meeting, so entirely 
 captivated. He seemed to set so much value 
 on state, and style, and fashion ; had lived so 
 much abroad, and was so courted by the 
 highest class of London society, that I fancied 
 some one more sparkling and brilliant than my 
 own simply good and gentle Florence would 
 have been more suited to his taste. There 
 was an uncertainty about his manner which I 
 did not much like, and yet he was constant as 
 a shadow to his young love. He did not (1 
 thought) prize her more valuable qualities as 
 highly as they deserved, yet he set amazing 
 store by the minor ones. Such, after all, is 
 the case with most men : the lesser — more 
 every-day — qualities both of mind and manner 
 of women are the most called into action, and,
 
 252 A woman's story. 
 
 therefore, contribute the most to man's com- 
 fort, and the domestic attractions of his wife 
 and home ; the higher qualities frequently re- 
 main dormant — a vast mine unmoved, un- 
 worked, but ready with its store of value when 
 needed for some great purpose. Mr. Marley 
 was not only a scholar, but an accomplished 
 man, reading as few men do, and adding to 
 the worth of what he read the fascination of a 
 rich voice, and an intonation that gave double 
 power to the charmed words. Moreover, Mr. 
 Marley was the fashion ; he was supposed to 
 be the author of a book, when authors were 
 not as numurous as roses in June, and when 
 it was necessary to write with care concerning 
 what had been observed at leisure ; he had 
 (he did not deny it) produced a volume 
 of travels, deliberate travels, without the 
 assistance of steam or railroads. The book 
 deserved the reputation it acquired, and 
 Mr. Marley was feted and courted, and ladies 
 breakfasted with him, and he supped with 
 them, and sang his words to their music, 
 and their music to his words; he was pro- 
 nounced a ^ love ' by some, and a ^ hero ' by
 
 A woman's story. 253 
 
 others, or fit to be a ^ hero/ which was the same 
 thing ; and, while very young ladies lamented 
 he was not in the Guards, others confessed that 
 a handsome man of thirty, with thousands 
 a-year, varying by report from five to ten, 
 could be out of the Guards, and yet in the fashion. 
 Mr. Middleton appreciated his attentions to 
 Florence, but it never entered into his head to 
 imagine his daughter highly favoured thereby ; 
 and, while ^ fashionables ' were wondering 
 *what could attract Mr. Marley — who, that 
 season at all events, could have commanded 
 any match — to the side of the lovely, quiet 
 Florence Middleton, with not a very large 
 fortune, small expectations, and a very eccen- 
 tric father,' Mr. Middleton held frequent con- 
 sultations with Mrs. Dellamere as to Mr. 
 Marley's eligibility or non-eligibility, as a hus- 
 band for his child. There are few contrasts 
 more startling than the estimate people form 
 of their own little world, and the estimate 
 formed of it by others. It was amusing to me 
 to see how Mr. Marley fell into the habit of 
 thinking me a ' Nobody,' doing sentiment or 
 satire, love or learning, as their fitness for the
 
 254 A woman's story. 
 
 occasion occurred to him, without ever be- 
 stowing upon me the fragment of an idea. 
 Florence hated sarcasm ; she was, perhaps, 
 slow at enjoying wit, seldom seeing the flash 
 before she heard the thunder ; but sarcasm 
 made her uncomfortable, and Mr. Marley 
 managed to soften whatever he said of that 
 sort, as though it were not said from unkind- 
 ness or a love of the habit, but simply as a 
 comment upon what had gone before. He 
 had wonderful tact — too mucli tact for an 
 honest mind ; and while I rounded the heel of 
 a stocking, or gathered the meshes of a purse, 
 I have seen him veer to all points of the com- 
 pass ; yet he did it so adroitly that Florence 
 believed him a miracle of consistency in all 
 things. To be sure, he was her first love, and 
 women become more clear-sighted when they 
 get over that little insanity, as natural to Miss 
 in her teens as teething to the infant, who 
 
 cannot account for yet why should I say 
 
 so ill-tempered a thing when speaking of my 
 dear Florence? As to Mr. Marley, I never 
 thought kindly of him ; his wit and learning, 
 his beauty of person, put me out of temper —
 
 A woman's story. 255 
 
 I could hardly account for it. I talk very 
 little, but I talked less before him than before 
 any one ; so that sometimes, if I made a quiet 
 observation, he would look up astonished, and 
 then, hardly noticing the interruption, pursue 
 his metaphor, or continue the ,poem he was 
 reading. One day, Florence pressed him to 
 read a sort of madrigal of '^H. L.'s:' he seemed 
 unwilling to do so, but Florence said that even 
 her dear ' Nobody ' would like to hear it, as 
 she attached a romance of her own to the 
 mystic letters. It was evidently the first time 
 Florence had alluded to Helen in connection 
 with this mystery, and I could not but think 
 it strange, that what had once occupied her 
 thoughts to the exclusion of other things, had 
 . so completely given place to a new feeling. 
 *'Do you know, Mr. Marley," I said, ^'there 
 are some descriptions in your book so like the 
 'Passes of the Hills,' of H. L.'s, which have 
 been so quoted, that I could have fancied 
 them written by one and the same person." 
 
 Mr. Marley became deadly pale, and bent 
 over the journal into which the madrigal had 
 been copied.
 
 256 A woman's story. 
 
 "Is it possible/' exclaimed Florence, in a 
 tone of mingled hope and enquiry, " that you 
 can be the magician — the * H. L.' of the 
 world's enchantment ?" 
 
 " No, I assure you," he replied ; " Miss 
 Middleton does me too much honour." 
 
 " I have got the * Passes of the Hills ' here," 
 I persisted, withdrawing from my netting-case 
 three poems which I had cut out of the gazette; 
 " and here is Mr. Marley's volume. Now, 
 look, Florence." 
 
 The author rose, and, turning his livid face 
 towards me with an expression which I never 
 forgot, he enquired, *' What do you mean ?" 
 
 The tone roused Florence from her drawing, 
 and the papers trembled in my fingers ; his 
 look chilled my very soul. *• 
 
 "Do you mean that I borrowed ideas or 
 information from this — H. L. ?" he continued. 
 
 "Neither, exactly," I answered; "the poems 
 were published since your book." 
 
 " Then, madam, do you mean that I am 
 H. L. ?" 
 
 " Oh, dear, no !" I replied ; "I never ima- 
 gined that for a moment ; I could not fancy that!"
 
 A woman's story. 257 
 
 Something in my manner, I suppose, 
 offended him, for Florence enquired, ^' What 
 has dear ' Nobody ' said ?" 
 
 " Indeed, I do not know," I replied, " but 
 Mr. Marley seems vexed at something. No- 
 thing is more common than for persons of 
 genius to think alike — and if they think alike, 
 they may write alike ; it is still more probable 
 if they have met, and communed together." 
 
 Mr. Marley's pale cheek became crimson, 
 and in a voice suppressed and stern, while 
 bending over the poem, he enquired — ^^ What 
 reason I had to suppose that he had ever met 
 or communed with the invisible girl ?'' 
 
 " I do not even know it is a girl,'' exclaimed 
 Florence; '^that is my friend's notion. I really 
 think she is in the secret, after all, and you 
 too, Mr. Marley ; you both look so confused." 
 
 "Your friend is a keen observer, I per- 
 ceive," he said, coldly, " and, therefore, ought 
 to know that authors do not like to be con- 
 sidered plagiarists." 
 
 '* She did not mean to accuse you of that, 
 I am certain," apologized Florence. 
 
 ** No !" I said, earnestly, " indeed I did not. 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 A woman's story. 
 
 I have almost forgotten what I meant when 
 first 1 spoke. I believe it was simply, that 
 some passages in Mr. Marley's book, and these 
 * Passes of the Hills,' were written by the same 
 hand ; that was really all." 
 
 " A charming explanation," said Mr. Marley. 
 
 " I dare say," I continued, '-' that Florence 
 may be right, and that you are in the secret.*' 
 
 Mr. Marley's tact had only forsaken him for 
 a minute ; he now smiled as blandly as ever, 
 and turned off the conversation by reading the 
 madrigal with his usual feeling and expression^ 
 There was a sort of ante-room off the drawing- 
 room — now, it would be called a boudoir. 
 It contained a cabinet of shells, and some 
 scientific instruments of Mr. Middleton's, and 
 sundry easy chairs, and a writing-table, which 
 all the habitues of the house used. That same 
 evening we were going to the theatre : Mr. 
 Marley had not dined with us, but he was to 
 be our escort. Mrs. Dellamere was in the 
 drawing-room, where Mr. Middleton was 
 enjoying his after-dinner newspaper ; and 
 Florence had not yet left her dressing-room. 
 Whoever entered the drawing-room, was
 
 A woman's story. 259 
 
 obliged, of necessity, to pass through the ante- 
 room, which, however, when the doors were 
 closed, was altogether a separate apartment. 
 I was seldom without some fragments of Helen's 
 writing in my pocket, thinking they might 
 unravel the mystery, which I confess en- 
 grossed my every thought : these had escaped 
 from their envelope ; and, with my back to the 
 outer door, I was arranging them on the 
 writing-table, when, suddenly, a hand crushed 
 them down, and Mr. Marley, in a voice low 
 and almost inarticulate from agitation, in- 
 quired, " Where did you obtain these papers ?" 
 I looked at him, he was pale and trem- 
 bling. ^^ I had them from Helen," 1 replied, 
 " and do me the favour to remove your hand 
 at once ; I have treasured them with too much 
 care to endure their being crushed." He did 
 so, and sat down. 
 
 " And when did you hear from her ?" 
 " I never hear from her — I wish I did." 
 " Speak the truth ! Do not tamper with 
 me," he said, fiercely. 
 
 " I never speak anything but the truth," I 
 
 s 2
 
 260 A woman's story. 
 
 replied, calmly. " I never hear from her — I 
 wish I did !'' 
 
 ^^ And these papers ?" 
 
 " Her writing when little more than a child. 
 But you know her — you know all ?'* 
 
 He fixed his eyes on me — such a deep- 
 looking, soul-searching gaze as it was ! 
 
 ** I will not attempt to deceive you," he 
 said, " for such penetration renders it impos- 
 sible," — this was said with the sneer of 
 a demon — he paused — but soon continued — 
 '^ ask nothing at present, for I cannot 
 answer ; and, above all, do not let Florence — 
 do not let Miss Middleton know anything of 
 her when she comes to England. Do not, if 
 you value her peace — her character !" 
 
 " You have no right to question the charac- 
 ter of Helen Lyndsey,'' I exclaimed, indig- 
 nantly. 
 
 He made no observation, but the expression 
 of his features was fearful — the most fearful I 
 ever looked upon. There was a pause, and 
 then, in his blandest tone, he said, " You are 
 a woman of the world ?" 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Marley, I am not," I replied.
 
 A woman's story. 261 
 
 I could not suffer him to retain a wrong im- 
 pression. " I never was, and never had any 
 ambition to be — no one ever thought me — a 
 woman of the world." 
 
 " Hush !" he exclaimed, " that is Florence 
 — she is coming down." 
 
 " But we must talk of this again, Mr. 
 Marley. I know you are deceived — or deceiv- 
 ing me." 
 
 ^' My dear lady, why should I deceive you ? 
 — ^you, the dearest, most loved friend of one 
 who you know holds my hopes and happiness 
 in thrall. But we will talk of this again, yet 
 not just now — we have not time. I would en- 
 treat you when this phoenix comes to England 
 not to see her. Well, if that be impossible, 
 not to believe in her : and listen ! whoever 
 brought her in contact with Florence, though 
 it were her own father, I would sever the 
 bond, ay, even between father and child, 
 rather than suffer her to ." 
 
 The opposite glass showed me the expres- 
 sion of his countenance, as he sought a word 
 which should convey his feeling, and yet not 
 outrage mine. At that moment, Helen, all,
 
 262 A woman's story. 
 
 everything in the world, was forgotten by me 
 — all, save an unuttered prayer that Florence 
 Middleton might repose in her mother's grave, 
 rather than in the bosom of such a husband. 
 He was still pausing for a word, when Florence 
 entered, looking like the spirit of peace and 
 love — the perfection of a high-minded, pure- 
 minded Enghsh girl ! a wreath of white roses 
 rested on her brow, and her long, silken 
 tresses descended low at either side of 
 temples, consecrated by the Almighty to the 
 purest intellect. She saw the papers, which 
 now lay before me. 
 
 " Comparing notes — I see," she said play- 
 fully ; " comparing notes. Well, Mr. Marley, 
 you must help my friend, and who knows but 
 we mav find this lost cousin of mine? — that 
 she may really come forth out of this dream 
 and be a light — a very star among us? I shall 
 be a zealous, not a jealous worshipper. I 
 should so like to have a real living poet for my 
 cousin ! — it would be so delightful !" 
 
 Her unusual flow of spirits, at such a time 
 was more than I could bear; I was overcome, and 
 burst into tears. Poor Florence, she caressed me
 
 A woman's STORir. 263 
 
 as if I had been her mother ; she declared she 
 would not go without me ; that she could not ; 
 she would wait. Mr. Marley left us together. 
 I longed to ask her not to go that evening to 
 the theatre. I panted to pour out my thoughts 
 to her, though it needed but little reflection to 
 show how foolish such a course would have 
 been at such a time. I was soon tranquillized, 
 and was obliged to listen to Mr. Marley's ten- 
 der solicitude, his hopes that I was better, and 
 endure the pressure of his hand, accompanied 
 by a ' remember I ' only audible to ray ears. 
 Who was he ? — whence came he ? Mr. Mid- 
 dleton was at no time communicative — and 
 there was a degree of reserve about him, 
 which prevented my giving utterance to the 
 enquiries that I longed to make ; at last I 
 ventured to ask in what part of England Mr. 
 Marley's family resided. Mr. Middleton said 
 that his family had possessions in Barbadoes 
 — very large possessions — which Mr. Marley 
 was then negociating to dispose of, as he 
 wished to transfer his property to England. 
 
 " Had he brothers or sisters ? " 
 
 Oh, dear no ! he was an only son — in fact
 
 264 A woman's story. 
 
 an only child, a man of extraordinary and 
 most varied information — and so thoroughly 
 English in all his affections and tastes, in fact he 
 believed in nothing good out of England. 
 
 We all believed that during the war. 
 
 I dared not speak frankly to him ; and if I 
 had so spoken, what proof had I that Mr. 
 Marley was what I believed ? — what proof 
 that Helen Lyndsey was not what he had inti 
 mated ? — what proof of anything ? Ay, what 
 proof of anything had I ?
 
 265 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " He stood beside that stream again, 
 When years had fled in strife and pain ; 
 He look'd for its calm course in vain, — 
 For storms profaned its peaceful flow, 
 And clouds o'erhung its crystal brow." 
 
 Procter. 
 
 I HAVE all my life been subject to fits (so to 
 call them) of unconquerable lassitude and lan- 
 guor, rendering me unable to move, almost 
 unable to speak. I am sometimes obliged to 
 yield to their influence ; and, worn out in body 
 as well as in mind, feel as though it would be 
 a relief, to pass from this world, without farther 
 care or concern about anything or any human 
 being. This shutting the eyes, the ears, the
 
 266 A woman's story. 
 
 very heart, to what is moving and breathing 
 around me, is never of long duration ; but it is 
 grievous to think, that while it continues there 
 is a passing away of that precious current of 
 time which sweeps into eternity, without one 
 record of good performed, or even contem- 
 plated. This torpidity of soul, however, seems, 
 when past, to have been a time of refreshment 
 to the bodv, and I wake' with increased 
 strength, with no pain but the consciousness of 
 having left much undone that might have been 
 accomplished^ This state frequently succeeds 
 intense anxiety, and I now endured it for a 
 much longer period than usual. After my 
 strange interview with Mr. Marley, I had 
 hardly sufficient energy to enable me to return 
 home — and when within my own sanctuary — I 
 seemed to dream, rather than think, over the 
 little I had said to the purpose ; how much I 
 might have inquired about, how could it be 
 that I had so little presence of mind, when 1 
 ought to have had so much ? I longed to com- 
 municate my thoughts and feelings to some 
 one with whom I could take counsel, and yet I 
 could not endure to repeat to any living
 
 A woman's story. 267 
 
 creature that an aspersion had been cast upon 
 Helen. A doubt no longer existed in my own 
 mind, that H. L. and Helen Lyndsey were the 
 same ; — how could I doubt it ? how confirm it ? 
 The following evening, Florence came to me ; I 
 saw the moment she entered, that the great 
 event of her life had passed — she need not 
 have told me, but I knew she would — and I 
 asked no question, but waited until she talked 
 off her first bashfulness. She had be^n uneasy 
 all night, she said, about me, and had driven 
 out in the evening to know how I was ; she 
 would have come the first thing in the morn- 
 ing, but something Mr. Marley had said the 
 previous night — she almost forgot what it was, 
 but it was something — about wishing to speak 
 to her father, prevented her ; and, then, with- 
 out observing the painful feeling under which 
 I was suffering, she flung her arms around me, 
 and, bursting into tears, declared she had never 
 been so happy, that now she knew his mind 
 — no, she did not mean her father's mind, that 
 was easily read at any time, but another's. For 
 shame ! I knew, I must know whom she meant. 
 She believed in her heart I knew it before any
 
 268 A woman's story. 
 
 of them ; she was certain that he had communi- 
 cated it to me in the ante -room — indeed, he 
 had almost confessed as much ! '^ I quite 
 trembled. Poor child! she thought it was 
 with joy, and blessed me for my warm sym- 
 pathy, and the interest I had always taken in 
 her ; she called me her mother's friend, and it 
 seemed as though I heard a voice crying to me 
 from the grave, ^ to save her child ; ' and, suffo- 
 cating as I was, I entreated her for her own, 
 for her father's sake, not to engage herself so 
 suddenly — to wait : she ought not to decide at 
 once; she was young, and had known him only 
 a little time. I did not ask her to break off, 
 or even meet it coolly, only to consider, to 
 pause, for a little time. Florence drew back 
 at my words : as she looked at me, her face 
 wet with tears, yet glowing with happiness, re- 
 minded "me of a rose upon which the shower 
 has fallen — briojht in the beams of the summer 
 sun. Despite her tears, I never saw such a 
 picture of full and earnest happiness : it was, 
 indeed, as full of beauty as of hope. 
 
 ^^ But I am engaged, dearest," she replied ; 
 and a shade of anxiety, as to why I should
 
 A woman's story. ' 269 
 
 wish her not engaged overspread her face. 
 " Look here/' and half-kneeling, she held up 
 her hand, showing the pledge-ring. " Oh ! 
 I shall be so happy ! I was ashamed to 
 tell my father so ; and dear Mrs. Dellamere, 
 would you believe it ? was full of the business- 
 part of the affair, and talked like an old parch- 
 ment lawyer of settlements and jewels, and I 
 know not what ; but I thought I should have 
 full sympathy from you ; you have always 
 given me that, and yet now you look so dis- 
 contented. What is the matter, dearest ? 
 Why, my dear father seems more than satis- 
 fied. Mr. Marley has behaved so nobly about 
 money matters ; he said he would not hear of 
 my father's parting with a fraction to me now ; 
 and added he would settle some large sum 
 upon me, without reference to my property, 
 this proves a disinterested affection, does it 
 not ? Oh,'' she continued, ^' Oh ! dearest No- 
 body, why are you so cold ? — why so strange 
 to me, in these, the happiest hours of my ex- 
 istence ?" I told her, God knows how truly, 
 that I was not cold, nor strange, but that I 
 disapproved of sudden engagements ; and that,
 
 270 A woman's story. 
 
 as I was not well, she must forgive me. She 
 spoke no more of the happy future, but tears 
 gathered in her eyes, and she sat with clasped 
 hands, seeking some subject to talk upon ; and 
 at last said it w^ould be such a pleasure now to 
 find her cousin Helen, whether she was, or 
 was not the literary mystery, as Marley was 
 just the person to appreciate her in every re- 
 spect, poor girl ! 
 
 I am so unused to deception, so much in the 
 habit, when I do speak, of speaking what I 
 think, that I hardly knew what to reply , and, 
 after all, what could I say ? What right had 
 I to suppose that Marley had not authority for 
 what he had said to me ? — the most brilliant, 
 the most highly-gifted in talent, are not 
 always the highest in moral worth. Why 
 should Helen enshroud herself in mystery ? — 
 why conceal her refuge and her course from 
 those who loved her? My head and heart 
 both ached ; and, at the very moment these 
 thoughts were vibrating in my mind, I had 
 the consciousness that the worldly spirit within 
 me was pleading the cause of the rich man of 
 the world; in opposition to the claims of the
 
 A woman's story. 27 J 
 
 woman of genius. How I hated myself! and 
 yet, in defiance of my own sympathies — I had 
 almost written knowledge — the worldly plead- 
 ing continued. I had evidence from Florence 
 herself, that the man was possessed with a 
 spirit of untruth, that he sought to make her 
 believe he had communicated his love for her 
 to me. H^ had alluded to it certainly, and an 
 untruthful mind shelters itself under various 
 semblances ; but our theme was very diflferent 
 from that to which his betrothed referred. To 
 conceal my feelings, I proposed we should 
 walk together upon the Heath, not along the 
 beaten road, but down the back, leaving the 
 Yale of Health behind us. We did so almost 
 without speaking, and at last rested under a 
 clump of noble trees, in silent contemplation 
 of the ' mighty city ' reposing beneath the 
 beams of the full moon. 
 
 The evening was one of surpassing serenity 5 
 the heavens of that pure mild blue, only seen 
 in England during a few of the clear nights of 
 summer ; the lights in the distant city seemed 
 to sparkle for effect — so as to mark the public 
 buildings, the lines of the noble streets, the
 
 272 A woman's story. 
 
 extent of the great squares, the giant span of 
 our magnificent river — rather than to give 
 light. Many a church spire and massive 
 tower stood out sharply defined against the 
 sky ; while, above all, loomed the round dome 
 of old St. Paul's, the head of the ^ mighty 
 heart/ which still palpitated in the highways. 
 There is an immensity in London, seen- from 
 either of its tributary villages — Highgate or 
 Hampstead — which, be the mind ever so pre- 
 occupied, asserts its mastery over every other 
 thought. The city, so enormous in its pro- 
 portions, so massive when * distance lends en- 
 chantment to the view,' so much greater from 
 the stillness, the solemnity, the vastness, which 
 is indicated, rather than expressed, in the 
 various indistinct distances, so regal, so worthy 
 of our own mighty country — that we forget, 
 while contemplating the magnitude of its ex- 
 tent, how much houseless misery is within and 
 around it ; nor do we hear the curses arising 
 from sin, that bay the heavens, or the wails of 
 want and misery, pleading at the Almighty 
 footstool. The greatest feast a contemplative 
 creature can enjoy, in broad England, is such
 
 A woman's story. 273 
 
 a seat, on such a night, with London under- 
 neath. 
 
 Florence gazed with me in silence ; and I 
 believe her heart was as full as a joung heart 
 could be of the great theme. There is a broad 
 pool of water in a hollow in the foreground, 
 fixed in the rich carpet of the Heath, a mirror 
 where ' th' innocent moon ' can look upon 
 herself; the tiny villas, scattered round the 
 Lower Heath, were sparkling with lights ; and 
 from them arose the laugh of childhoqd, the 
 small bark of the pet-dog, and the various 
 sounds of domestic life, not harshly toned, but 
 softened by distance, so as to be in harmony 
 with all around. 
 
 " The carriage will meet us on Downshire 
 Hill/^ whispered Florence ; '^ come back with 
 me to town, it will do you good. You stay at 
 the cottage until you are beset with fancies 
 that make you ill ; and, indeed, you must not 
 indulge them as you do. Your hand is chill 
 at this moment — chill and moist ; perhaps 
 you think I shall love you less hereafter ; in- 
 deed, indeed, you do me wrong ; that would 
 be impossible." 
 
 YOL. I. T
 
 274 A woman's sTORr. 
 
 On that subject I could speak. It was ray- 
 joy to tell her, that a single thought of self 
 had never intruded on the hope of her hap- 
 piness — that I never imagined we could 
 change — that I knew too well the steadfast- 
 ness of her nature to fancy that ; — I could not 
 then accompany her home, but I would soon, 
 very soon, see her. 
 
 We walked slowly down the hill, and then 
 she would insist on leaving me at my garden- 
 gate, where she entered her carriage. As I 
 passed the window of my little drawing-room, 
 I saw a figure bending over the book I had 
 been endeavouring to read, and could not but 
 smile that ray raaid, who could hardly spell 
 English, should have found any attraction in 
 the Phedre of Corneille, *' It is only," I 
 thought, " of a piece with the acting of world- 
 lings — seeraing to know much more than they 
 do know : " the hall-door was opened, I en- 
 tered the parlour, and, in a moment, was 
 clasped in Helen s arms. I knew her before 
 she spoke — before I saw her ; I knew her 
 stifled sobs, her quick breathing, her grasp so 
 ardent in its affection — although she had
 
 A woman's story. 275 
 
 grown from a child into a woman ; I knew 
 the tresses, braided though they were, that 
 pressed against my cheek — her murmured 
 love. Oh, what a meeting it was ! And when 
 I sunk exhausted on the sofa, she sat opposite 
 to me, her arms crossed upon the table against 
 which she leaned ; her small, white, and ex- 
 quisitely beautiful hands showing, like sculp- 
 tured marble, from beneath the loose sleeves 
 of black silk which fell back from her wrists — 
 her finely moulded throat, supporting a head 
 that combined the highest intellectual powers 
 with grace and beauty, decorated by a simple 
 knot of luxuriant black hair fastened at the 
 back by a golden arrow. Her eyes, fringed 
 by the longest lashes, seemed to me more 
 bright, more wandering, than ever ; and, but 
 that an expression of sadness subdued their 
 fire, they would have been painfully dazzling. 
 The short, abrupt nose was now fully developed; 
 and though at war with classic beauty, it gave 
 a riant effect to the countenance which ren- 
 dered it more piquant and effective in its rapid 
 transitions. If her mouth had but harmonized 
 with the other features, the face would have 
 
 t2
 
 276 A woman's story. 
 
 been the most captivating I ever looked upon. 
 There she sat — rmy long-lost Helen! — there 
 before me, beneath my own roof once more, 
 her beauty in the first and full perfection of 
 womanhood, illumined by an intellect beyond 
 her sex and years. And then there seemed to 
 me no unfeminine confidence about her. The 
 tears — full round tears— coursed each other 
 down her cheeks ; and, at last, resting her head 
 on her clasped hands, she gave w^ay to her 
 feelings, and wept and sobbed abundantly. I 
 restrained my own emotion, and would not 
 even question her, but left her to herself; 
 then, wearied as a child would be with crying, 
 she sat on the floor, and leaned her head upon 
 my lap. 
 
 *^ I left you," she said at last, " I left yon 
 in poverty, and in the bitterest disgrace thafc 
 England recognises — the disgrace of debt. — I 
 return, seared andold at heart and worn in spirit, 
 but with a name which the hereafter of my 
 country shall not blush to hear!" Although 
 there was triumph in the manner in which she 
 spoke this last sentence, it was no unwomanly 
 triumph : it was glory rather than victory.
 
 A WOMAN^S STORY. 277 
 
 " I felt from the first, despite all they sur- 
 mised, felt from the very first you were the 
 * H. L/ that had set all usual conjectures at 
 defiance/' I said. 
 
 *^ 1 thought a sort of instinct would tell you 
 that,'' she replied;" but it must be a secret 
 still. I will not unveil to the world until I 
 have established a reputation — gained a posi- 
 tion that cannot be disputed. I will not de- 
 pend for favour upon either fancy or fashion. 
 I have a consciousness of power, which is 
 power; and if I cannot be happy, I will be 
 great." 
 
 ^' But, my dear Helen ! " said I : she inter- 
 rupted me at once, and the feeling that had 
 lent such dignity and spirit to her expression, 
 changed to one of perfect playfulness. 
 
 ^' Now, my dearest Nobody ! you must not 
 put on your preaching face, and tell me truths 
 and facts ; I know what truth is, though my 
 staple commodity is fiction, and facts are hard, 
 immouldable things ; nothing can be done with 
 them ; turn them which way you will, there 
 they are, and there they will remain. If I had 
 not felt that I deserved all you were going to
 
 278 A woman's story. 
 
 say, I would have discovered ray retreat and 
 my plans to you long ago ; but I should starve 
 were 1 to practise truth ! " I saw she was ex- 
 cited, and thought I would endeavour to 
 change the subject. 
 
 " Your father, dear Helen '' 
 
 *^ A living sorrow ! my dear friend. I would 
 have remained longer abroad, for there I should 
 have had less difficulty in continuing unknown, 
 but for him : even the shadow of protection 
 that he gave, has passed away ; his mind has 
 wandered from its dwelling to return no more . 
 he does not even know me, and I doubt 
 if anvone would know him ! It has driven 
 me almost mad at times to note how uncon- 
 scious he is of my presence. I carry him 
 with me everywhere ; but he grows so much 
 worse, that I know not what to do ; if it 
 had been madness, I could have borne it better 
 than this dreadful dreary stagnation — this 
 worse than childish imbecility. I think that, 
 perhaps, bringing him back to his old haunts 
 might recal him. Is poor Jerry alive?" 
 
 I told her of the Middletons' kindness to 
 the old servant, but that he wearied of con-
 
 A woman's story. • 279 
 
 tinual service, and came and went just as he 
 pleased ; this seemed to give her the deepest 
 pleasure, and she continued to repeat, * Poor 
 old Jerry ! ' ' Good, faithful Jerry ! ' while her 
 lips quivered with emotion. Though it was 
 growing late, we thought not of the time, she 
 had so much to say, I so much to learn, and 
 yet even to me she was not communicative. 
 Her feelings gushed forth, but she avoided 
 events and facts. She spoke guardedly of her 
 literary career, and seemed to shudder at the 
 difficulties which had beset, and still beset her 
 path. Her intense love of poetry, born with 
 her as it was, made her feel it positive degrada- 
 tion to traffic in what she called the * Almighty 
 essence burning in the human heart.' She 
 promised, hereafter, to tell me how her first 
 productions got into print, and how they were 
 first noticed. It was a delight past all telling 
 to pour forth her soul in poetry ; but short 
 poems, even to her, brought small sums, and 
 while so many stars were in the ascendant, 
 she could not dispose of long ones, and so she 
 worked prose to order — so many pages of 
 humour subdued by so many pages of pathos —
 
 280 A woman's story. 
 
 free translations — criticisms — everything she 
 had done, and hoped to do again — sketches of 
 society, which one or two facts, stimulated by 
 her keen observation, and illuminated by her 
 wit, enabled her to make so life-like, that all 
 critics pronounced it impossible for any woman 
 to be so well read in human nature, therefore, 
 they must have been produced by some un- 
 known philosopher, who would one day burst 
 upon the world and confess his deeds ; there 
 was a trembling scorn upon her lip while she 
 Slid this, which told more than words what 
 little faith she placed in such opinions ; and yet 
 she seemed deeply anxious about them, inquir- 
 ing earnestly what I had heard, what read, 
 what seen ? I wanted her to remain with me 
 all night, but she said she could not ; that at 
 night her father was particularly unquiet, call- 
 ing her up ^\e or six times, and not attempt- 
 ing to rest unless she were there to sit by 
 his side until he slept. She had left the 
 carriage at the turn of the hill. She gave me 
 her address, insisting that no human being, 
 not even Florence, should be made acquainted 
 "with her arrival ; told me, with one of her
 
 A woman's story. 281 
 
 rapid transitions from grave to gay, that 
 something wonderful would happen soon ; that 
 I must steal to see her — perhaps her father 
 would know me; then spoke of the pleasure 
 it had given her to peep in at the window 
 of the Rylands', and instead of seeing them 
 working hard, as she had feared they would 
 be, they were seated at their frugal supper, 
 the closed Bible on the table, and the well-fed 
 cat looking sleek and contented on the elbow 
 of the well- remembered sofa. In a moment 
 she had caught the picture and transferred it, 
 and there, with a thousand others, it would 
 remain — mingled, and yet detached. And the 
 Cobbs — the fine Mrs. Brevet-Major and her 
 good-natured husband — she wished to know if 
 they were still moving after the phantom of 
 'high society,' as in the old time. We parted 
 with many embraces, and another burst of tears. 
 I determined, for it was near midnight, to walk 
 with her to the carriage ; but, when she got 
 to the gate, she would turn the other way, as 
 she said, " Just to catch a glimpse of her old 
 home." It was not two hundred yards, and 
 she could see the chimneys, the night was so
 
 282 A woman's story. 
 
 clear. If I were afraid, she would go by her* 
 self — she never knew fear. I did not at all 
 like a walk on the Heath at that hour, but I 
 would not, indeed I could not, control her, 
 and with rapid steps we hastened towards her 
 birth-place. 
 
 " Can you account for it T'' she said to me, 
 '' that the home of ray childhood was the scene 
 of unceasing sorrow — sorrow from sunrise to 
 sunset — nothin gbut sorrow ; I opened my eyes 
 to tears, and tears flowed from them while I 
 slept — nothing but tears ; and yet its memory 
 to me is as the memory of Paradise to our first 
 parents. The little dusty garden at the back is 
 my Eden ; the bower overgrown by privet and 
 ancient woodbine, studded with insect archi- 
 tecture, where I used to steal to write fragments 
 of verse upon my broken slate, excites more 
 emotion in my heart than did the noblest palaces 
 I have seen abroad ; the buttercups which poor 
 Jerry gathered on the Heath, and which I used 
 to weave into crowns — ay, and crown myself 
 with them too, in haughty, heart-swelling 
 triumph, when I had expressed a new idea to 
 my satisfaction, or conquered an obstinate
 
 A woman's story. 283 
 
 couplet ; those buttercups ! richer they are 
 in my memory than circlets of jewels, chains 
 of gold ! and the bird, the bird I loved so 
 much ; believe me, I never yet heard the song 
 of a bird that the image of my own pent-up 
 warbler was not before me. What strongholds 
 these childish things build in our heart of 
 hearts ! My father's old horse ! thick, dispro- 
 portionate creature : I cannot see a horse, no 
 matter how perfect he is in the superb beauty 
 of his race, that I do not remember the caress- 
 ing manner with which my father's brown 
 cob used to rest down his nostril on my head, 
 and lick, like a dog, the little hand I held for 
 his greeting. And those poor Rylands, the 
 suffering patient girl and her ever-working 
 sister, knowing no rest, seeming to require 
 none, always ready, always good-tempered, 
 subduing their emotions, letting no trace of 
 them be seen, except upon their quivering lips 
 and whitened cheeks. And you ! how much 
 enjoyment you procured me, how much pain 
 you alleviated, how much endured, and all for 
 mine and my poor father's sake. The memory 
 of all I suffered there, though it is burnt into
 
 284 A woman's story. 
 
 m}' lioart, is as nothing to the love I bear mere 
 sticks and stones. Oh, those things, those 
 things of nothing that net us in this world !" 
 All this she uttered rapidly, she never seemed 
 to say too much, because what she said laid- 
 liold upon the mind, and could not be for- 
 gotten. She told me at first, the sight of the 
 chimneys would have sufficed, but I knew she 
 would reach the gate ; not one living creature 
 did we meet, not a thing, save a marauding 
 cat, which crossed the road rapidly. It was 
 impossible to imagine anything more solitary, 
 more desolate : the night so bright at its com- 
 mencement, had darkened, and by some effect 
 of light which r cannot understand, when I 
 looked towards London, it seemed risen in the 
 air, a city of shadows ; while Finchley, and all 
 between it, and beyond it, was one huge gulf 
 of mist — grey and impenetrable mist — out of 
 which one or two trees stared wildly, while the 
 clouds careered above, hurled on before a wind, 
 which, though we heard it, we did not feel. 
 We stood before the gate : she shook it, but it 
 was fastened within, and a dog, roused by the 
 attempt, barked loudly.
 
 A woman's story. 285 
 
 '^ I wish they would open it," she said ; how 
 strengthened she had grown in the wilfulness 
 that never brooked contradiction. She thrust 
 her slender arras through the palings, and 
 snatched at the nearest trees, tearing off a 
 handful of leaves from one and then from 
 another, and having done so, turned si- 
 lently away. The longer we remained in the 
 darkness, the more distinctly we could see ; 
 and she held towards me the fragments she 
 had gathered. 
 
 '^ Do you believe in omens, my dear friend ? 
 look here, here is the first garland I have 
 gathered on my return to my own home, to my 
 native land ! Look ; do but look ! — yew and 
 laurel! — a few leaves of the laurel, a great 
 bough of the yew ! I might have read my 
 destiny aright without this — but this confirms 
 it. When a woman achieves the laurel, she 
 must take the yew with it. Immortality ! — 
 only a leaf of immortality, to soften sorrow and 
 envy, and destruction and death — a leaf of 
 the laurel, a branch of the yew ! — and is this 
 really to be all ?" 
 
 I pressed closely to her side, and we walked 
 rapidly towards where we saw the carriage,
 
 286 A woman's story. 
 
 and I felt very glad it was in sight ; two 
 persons, who had evidently alighted to relieve 
 a horse which was dragging a dog-cart up the 
 hill, w^ere close to us ; the one, a servant most 
 probably, was walking in the road, the other 
 was on the pathway. 
 
 " It is Marley," muttered Helen, and night 
 though it was she doubled her veil over her 
 face. She knew him then — she knew him, and 
 wished to avoid him. I was cloaked and 
 hooded from head to foot, so I had little fear 
 of being recognised. 
 
 We passed, and as we did so he raised his 
 hat — a courtesy towards women only learned 
 abroad. I could hear that his step paused. 
 We walked rapidly onward. I could not per- 
 ceive from where the carriage was, whether or 
 not he lingered on the pathway. I fancied 
 he did : and, after bidding adieu to Helen, in- 
 stead of returning by the road, I resolved to 
 do so by a path which led to the back of my 
 cottage. I entered, and desiring the servant 
 not to bring a light to the front of the house, 
 I ascended to my bed-room, which commanded 
 an extensive view\ The horse and servant
 
 A WOMAN'S STORY. 287 
 
 were out of sight, but Marley was pacing 
 backward and forward in front of the house. 
 I sat down, determined to observe his move- 
 ments : twice he came across and laid his hand 
 on the gate, as if resolved to enter and inquire, 
 even at that hour, if I were at home. At last 
 he passed to the opposite side of the 
 road, and I watched his shadow fade away, 
 now quite lost — lost beneath the shadows of 
 umbrageous trees ; then again appearing, 
 slanting along the path, dimly, and indis- 
 tinctly, but still there ! those tell tale 
 shadows! how often have they betrayed 
 lovers sweetest secrets ; how often have they 
 pointed the way which the murderer considered 
 trackless ; how often has the shadow of the 
 loved one, falling upon the latticed window, 
 changed hope into fulfilment; how joy fully do the 
 young birds, the nestlings of spring, recognize, 
 and greet the shadow of the parent's wing, as it 
 crosses the sunbeams, that warmed them in her 
 absence ; how do the shadows lengthen and 
 linger, when as the day draws to its close, we 
 watch for the coming friend ! how chill and 
 unearthly are they in the moonlight, as though
 
 288 A woman's story. 
 
 they partook of the nature of that spirit 
 world, which casts such strange unnatural 
 gleams, upon our material, but mysterious 
 globe ! At last, even Marley's shadow disap- 
 peared, and I felt relieved, as if some noxious 
 vapour had vanished. He must have recognized 
 Helen ; he must, doubtless, have observed that 
 I was with her ; perhaps he even saw that 
 one, not two, entered the waiting carriage. 
 What knowledge, then, had Marley and Helen 
 of each other ? 
 
 «i
 
 289 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ** When the poor flesh, surviving, doth entomb 
 The reasonable soul." 
 
 SOUTHET. 
 
 The next morning, every shadow thrown 
 upon the grass I fancied to be that of Marley ; 
 I attempted to write a note of congratulation 
 to Mr. Middleton, and threw down my pen 
 with a feeling of utter contempt for myself, 
 that I should think of playing the hypocrite. 
 I thought I would drive into town and see 
 Florence, but what could I say to her ? That 
 odious Mrs. Major Cobb called. Time, that 
 fills some people's heads, had certainly emptied 
 hers — she was more absurd than ever — her 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 A woman's story. 
 
 dignity had been offended by the fishmonger s 
 passing off upon her a brill for a turbot, 
 when she had company ! — that and the hot 
 weather, and her crimson satin bonnet with 
 yellow feathers, almost threw me into a fever. 
 She was full of a pair of embroidered slippers, 
 which she proclaimed were intended as a * coo 
 d'eta ' for the Commander-in-Chief — a portrait 
 of Lord Wellington on one, and of Napoleon 
 Bonaparte on the other. She had, she said, 
 added to Napoleon's military character, by the 
 addition of a pair of black up -curled mous- 
 taches, and lamented she had never been able 
 to prevail on her major to mount them ! 
 She had the slippers in her muff. What 
 punishment should be inflicted on a woman 
 with such execrable taste ? I looked at 
 them with offended eyes. '' I see," she 
 added, " you do not comprehend them ; but, 
 my dear !" laying her ' twelve-pounder,' (as 
 Miss Saunders, her ' dear friend,' calls her 
 hand) upon my arm, ^* you know you are 
 * Nobody,' still, 1 assure you, the mere pat- 
 terns cost ten-and-sixpence !" as if cost re- 
 deemed vulgarity. I felt like a prisoner
 
 A woman's story. 291 
 
 breathing the air of freedom when she de- 
 parted. 
 
 I thought I would write to Mr Marley, and 
 ask him to explain what he had insinuated, 
 and then I could not frame my sentences. I 
 was restless and miserable. Mrs. Dellamere 
 wrote me a long letter, in which the superiority 
 of Honiton and Buckingham lace was mingled 
 with raptures about Mr. Marley's generosity 
 • — verily the far-olF sound of a marriage -bell 
 rings the senses out of heads, young and old. I 
 thought her proof against such folly, and yet, 
 had it been that Florence was about to wed 
 any other man, I am certain I should have 
 been speculating in like manner. Mrs. Della- 
 mere counted upon my taste in all the shop- 
 ping — so quiet, sober, and grey, as my taste 
 was ! I took down one book after another, 
 but could not read ; I tried work, but had I 
 continued, should have had it all to unpick — 
 visions of those abominable slippers rose before 
 me. I struck the chords of my piano, they 
 were out of tune ; I ordered a carriage, put 
 on my bonnet, and resolved to visit Helen ; 
 and yet — what strange creatures we are ! — 
 
 u 2
 
 292 A woman's story. 
 
 while I longed to be with her, to observe her 
 — while I anticipated the glory that would 
 surround her, when she came forth in all the 
 radiance of success — I dreaded — what ? — that 
 Mr. Marley's words were true, and that Helen 
 was changed. Changed? Yes, she i(;a5 changed, 
 there could be no doubt of that ; but what 
 right had I for a moment to believe the pre- 
 sence of genius had banished the more valua- 
 ble attributes of woman ? 
 
 The lodging she had taken was in a street 
 oflf the Vauxhall-road. As it was then a place 
 of fog and miasma, she had chosen to be there 
 for a fortnight, she said, because it was out of 
 the wav, and because she could there best 
 arrange her plans. 
 
 The road thither, after passing through the 
 west-end, was like an entrance to another 
 country ; it would be difficult now to believe 
 that such a miniature swamp could exist so 
 near London. Along the widening and sloppy 
 pathways were palings, formed, in most in- 
 stances, of the staves of casks, inclining con- 
 trary-wise, sometimes in^ sometimes out, of 
 the enclosure ; the houses whether advancing
 
 A WOMAN S STORY. 293 
 
 to the front, or thrust backwards, as if ashamed 
 to be seen, had an exceedingly perplexing 
 look ; some of them exhibited in front long 
 strips of stands, upon which were displayed 
 all manner of old iron, while a huge rusty 
 cannon flanked one end, and a perforated vat, 
 large enough for a brewhouse, the other. 
 In truth, it would be quite impossible, passing 
 rapidly as I did, to understand what the 
 various utensils had been, that were heaped 
 amid logs of wood — long rafters, piles of old 
 bricks, mountains of shattered tiles, rabbit- 
 hutches, and dog-houses ; there certainly was 
 nothing of what an artist would call ^ keeping ' 
 in this display ; old musty boxes full of ancient 
 music, modern ribald books, and soiled medi- 
 cine vials, telling their own story of disease 
 and death ; old pictures, so really old and good 
 for nothing as to be past even a picture-dealer's 
 doctoring, close to coloured three-halfpenny 
 prints with green patches and yellow border- 
 ings ; old bird-cages, and hideous arm chairs, 
 vieing with still more hideous new ones ; some 
 marvellous old iron castings, worm-eaten 
 cabinets, and a cheveux de frise of rusty
 
 294 A woman's StORY. 
 
 railings, clothes-poles, old muskets, and pikes, 
 which might have served in the Irish rebellion, 
 formed a sort of back ground. The business 
 of these fag-ends of all imaginable trades 
 was generally carried on al fresco ^ by a brown, 
 ragged, loosely-dressed woman, who bustled 
 about in short full petticoats, and half laced 
 boots, looking earnest and fierce — or by a 
 tawny man, who seemed as though the elements 
 could have no effect upon him. I remember 
 wondering where those people did live, the 
 sheds looked so narrow and defenceless against 
 wind and rain. Here and there a stumpy tree 
 of the willow pattern, that had been cut down 
 half-a-dozen times, shot forth sundry stripling 
 branches, which moved about in a swaying, 
 melancholy way, bending and twisting in the 
 breeze, but looking so fresh and .green that it 
 was evident the soil was quite undrained. At 
 last I closed my eyes, leaving the coachman to 
 find the house without any hint of mine. He 
 succeeded at last. What a dreary, wretched 
 place it was ! a girl, smelling of onions, with 
 slip-shod shoes and stcckingless legs — one 
 of those white slaves who look as if they
 
 A woman's story. 295 
 
 had never sunned in a parent's smile, or 
 heard a gentle word — pointed up to the 
 ' drawing-room.' I stood for a moment at 
 the half-open door, for the damsel flopped 
 down quickly to where a murky flannel 
 was floating in a pail half-full of water, over 
 which I had nearly stumbled, and seemed not 
 to care whether I went upstairs, or remained 
 below — her hopeless face was past caring for 
 anything. I was shocked that a creature so 
 young should look so stolid. Helen was 
 seated on a species of chair — called, I suppose, 
 from their stern unfitness for the purpose, 
 * education chairs,' a tall high-backed thing, 
 quilted with crossed cane ; a desk, small, but 
 superbly inlaid, was propped upon a move- 
 able stand, all resting upon a green cloth, 
 faded into yellowness ; the chair and desk 
 and stand, so out of character with the furni- 
 ture of the room, were evidently her own ; the 
 solitary window was draped by coarse fiery- 
 red merino curtains ; the brown-holland blind 
 was half off* its roller, and, objecting to be 
 rolled after the usual fashion, was pinned in 
 the centre by a long pin — a thick yellow thing,
 
 296 A woman's story. 
 
 that would have thrown a French lady's-maid 
 into convulsions. — The door-skirtings and 
 shutters of the room had become a thick 
 yellow colour, and, ill-painted at first, the tur- 
 pentine oozed forth in large unhealthy spots ; 
 the carpet had never fitted, and showed inter- 
 vals of unclean boards, and a stained baize was 
 drawn over it, and nailed ^ here and there ' 
 with ^ two-penny tacks,' to conceal the rents ; 
 the brass fender and fire-irons looked as if 
 vinegar had been sprinkled over them, and the 
 grate was ornamented by a heap of red and 
 blue wood-shavings, destined to be packed 
 away when winter came, to do duty another 
 summer; half-venetian blinds would neither 
 shut nor open, the laths half in and half out — 
 serving as resting places for generations of 
 spiders ; two gaudily-coloured pictures were 
 mercifully placed out of sight, close up under 
 the wide pink bordering that edged the blue 
 paper, meandering round the room in a series 
 of zig-zag lines. I had ample time to observe 
 the apartment, for Helen bent over her 
 desk, and the only interior noise was oc- 
 casioned by the rapid passage of her pen
 
 A woman's story. 297 
 
 over the paper, and the hard breathings 
 of her father. I could not see him from 
 where I stood. Fearing I might put a 
 valuable thought to flight by an untimely 
 entrance, I retreated to the staircase window, 
 which looked out upon a congregation of small 
 red-walled gardens or yards, backed by a 
 forest of high and low chimneys, pouring out 
 quantities and varieties of smoke. Some of 
 their enclosures were devoted to heaps of ashes 
 and bleached bones, worn-out saucepans and 
 spoutless tea-kettles, ; others were neatly gra- 
 velled, and crossed by lines, where clothes 
 were rather left to smut than dry ; other walls 
 were garnished by French beans, trailing up 
 cords of various thickness, and variegated by 
 nasturtiums ; while in the plot below, amid clay 
 lumps and gravel, grew sea-pinks, small salad, 
 one or two gooseberry-bushes, and clumps of 
 starry London-pride — the borders formed of 
 oyster-shells. The sounds from without told 
 of the eloquence of the laundry, and the in- 
 sanity of intoxication, the peevish sorrows of 
 untended infancy, and the ^ any- beer' knell of 
 the public-house.. It was so disgusting, that,
 
 298 A woman's story. 
 
 let her say what she would, I resolved Helen 
 should not remain there — when suddenly, 
 blythe, as if from the expanded down of its 
 native soil^ rose the clear jubilee of a sky- 
 lark's note ; the song thrilled loud and clear, 
 bringing with it such a host of fresh, free 
 memories, it awoke the poet from her dream, 
 and she came to where I stood transfixed by 
 an emotion which brought tears into my 
 eyes. 
 
 '/ The presence of an angel amid the tombs, 
 is it not?'' she said, embracing me with all 
 her old affection. " Do you know that I was 
 unfeeling enough to offer the poor laundress, 
 to whom it belongs, money for that bird ? and 
 she replied that it was the only pleasure she 
 had in life — the only pleasure a human crea- 
 ture has in life hanging on the hour-numbered 
 existence of a small bird ! — I so despised my- 
 self for having made the offer ; but those who 
 know the want of money are just as much dis- 
 posed to over-rate its value as those who pos- 
 sess no value but what their money gives 
 them. I do all T can to repair the injury ; I 
 put on a clean frill every day, and submit my
 
 A woman's story. 299 
 
 Valenciennes to her mutilations without a 
 word, and have twice been to Covent-garden 
 to bring the lark a sod ! Come in : my poor 
 father is quite tranquil to-day." 
 
 Mr. Lyndsey was seated on a sofa, twisting 
 and untwisting a sheet of paper : his hair was 
 perfectly white, and his once portly person 
 shrunk into the semblance of a lean, withered 
 old man — he certainly looked twenty years 
 older than he was ; and then the fearful va- 
 cancy that had taken the place of every trace 
 of intellect, or even instinct — the total absence 
 of muscular strength, the half closed eye-lids, 
 the hanging mouth, the drooping head, the 
 hands resting almost without power on the 
 knees, and the feet, as he sat, turning inwards 
 — stricken — completely stricken down, mind- 
 less, and utterly helpless ! 
 
 " I want Helen — my child — my (laughter 
 Helen," he said, looking at me with glassy 
 eyes ; ^^ do you know where my child Helen 
 is?" 
 
 " Now, is not that agony?" whispered poor 
 Helen, throwing herself by my side. " I have 
 read and written for sixteen hours out of the
 
 300 A woman's story. 
 
 twenty-four, and never left him, and yet he 
 does not know it — he never will know it — 
 never can know it ! Is it not piteous? — can 
 you imagine anything so full of sorrow ? '' 
 
 ** But he is calm and quiet ? " 
 
 ^^Generally by day ; and at any other time his 
 being troublesome only means that he sobs and 
 weeps like a baby —aye, he will weep for a full 
 hour, until I wonder that the fountains of those 
 lack-lustre eyes are not quite dried up ; and 
 then he will call for me a dozen times in the 
 night." 
 
 " If he does not know you, you are no longer 
 necessary to his comfort.'' 
 
 " God forbid that ! '' she answered impa- 
 tiently ; ^^ I am necessary : for while he calls 
 Helen, and does not know I am by his side, 
 still he will take nothing but from my hand. 
 Oh ! if he could but have lived to know my 
 triumph — to know the power I shall have, 
 though perhaps but for a brief time — to know 
 that I have nearly redeemed his name from 
 shame — that his high principle of honesty will 
 be as a monument on his grave. I need not 
 be in such a place as this if I had not loved his
 
 A woman's story. 30 i 
 
 honour better than my own comfort — than 
 what the world would call my own respecta-' 
 
 bility. Oh, father ! if you did but know *' 
 
 " It's the sum-total of the whole ; and the 
 first was not binding according to English 
 law," he murmured feebly, unfolding the paper 
 — " it's that which grieves me ; where is Helen? 
 — why did she leave me ? " — and then tears 
 showered over his face, and he sobbed and 
 cried so, that I could not help but weep with 
 him. 
 
 *^ This ! " she exclaimed passionately, " this 
 is what will one day drive me mad ; and yet I 
 fear, if he were to pass into other care, these 
 tears would continue for ever, until the rem- 
 nant of his existence was washed away in a. 
 flood of his own weeping! — my poor, poor 
 father ! " 
 
 What a sight it was ! — that young, ardent, 
 enthusiastic, inspiring, and inspired creature — 
 the child of such as that ! We both sat down 
 and watched him, as he wept on, until, ex- 
 hausted, his head droop el upon his bosom, 
 and he slept, 
 
 " He will not wake for an hour at least."
 
 302 A woman's story. 
 
 said Helen in her usual tone. ^^ I will but 
 * correct half-a-dozen lines, and then tell you of, 
 or read you, my morning's work. This tiny 
 desk — what a world of delight it is to me ! 
 my home, my throne, my world ! While here 
 bent thus above it, I can for the time imagine 
 no greater happiness — no queen can feel more 
 full of power — thoughts and w^ords my slaves 
 — no, not slaves, subjects rather ; and if they 
 wdll sometimes become refractory — strive and 
 struggle for the mastery, I do as other mo- 
 narchs do — I put them down ! " She laughed 
 lightly, but there was no mirth in that laughter. 
 I sat in silence, but not long ; she had soon 
 finished. 
 
 ^' And now, dearest,'^ she said, while her 
 eyes sparkled, and her mouth looked absolutely 
 handsome in its smiles ; '^ and now, dearest 
 Nobody, I will tell you my greatest of all 
 secrets ; I have written a play — a mingling of 
 tragedy and comedy, and yet neither the one 
 nor the other — an attempt which, how^ever 
 great, I do not fear ; I think I have strength- 
 ened its weak points, and given it but 
 
 no matter, when you see it you can judge."
 
 A woman's story. 303 
 
 " It is so difficult to get a play even looked 
 at. Managers are a species of living ogres — 
 unbending tyrants ; and then the people, in 
 whose power you are, all want everything 
 their own way," I suggested. 
 
 " My manager is a sweet, civil-spoken gen- 
 tlemen, who overwhelms me with compliments 
 (on paper) ; and my actors 1 am determined 
 shall be all, with a few exceptions, enraptured 
 with their parts. Now the play is to be read 
 in the green-room to-morrow, and you must be 
 there ! — you must not say me nay ; you go as 
 my friend. I sha;ll give you a pass- port. I 
 can rely only on you, and you will be a faithful 
 reporter of all that passes." 
 
 " But is your play accepted ? " I inquired, 
 in bewildered astonishment. 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " And the manager does not know you ? " 
 
 *' He knows my better part — my play ; but 
 he has never seen me ; what need is there that 
 he should ? I enjoy the mystery ; I will never 
 be seen until my fame is too well grounded to 
 be shaken. There was another person whom I 
 had thought of asking to hear my play read ;
 
 304 A woman's story. 
 
 but Heaven knows how glad I am I can do 
 without him." 
 
 " Was it Marley ? " I inquired. She did not 
 scream, or faint, or seek the support of a chair, 
 or do anything that young ladies are supposed 
 to do when electrified by 'some well-known 
 name ;' if she changed colour I did not see it. 
 for she turned to pin together the papers she 
 bad been writinc:: it took her no lono-er to do 
 this than it oudit. Then she looked at me 
 with no more trace of emotion than though 
 the man had been a stranger, and said : — 
 
 " Do you know him ? We met him last 
 night ; but, if possible, I do not wish him to 
 know I am in England yet I dare say he 
 recognised me — he is lynx-eyed." 
 
 " Have you known him long ?*' 
 
 " Yes, some time." 
 
 "And well?" 
 
 " My dear Nobody, it proves how very little 
 you understand the world, to ask me if I know 
 him well ; no woman ever knows a man well; 
 we know just as much as they desire we 
 should know, and that is all. I often smile 
 when I hear young ladies talk of knowing
 
 A woman's story. 305 
 
 their lovers well^ of understanding them welly 
 of believing them all they seem ! And you, 
 dearest, to ask me if I know such a man as 
 Edmund Marley well! Why, he is the per- 
 fection of a man of the world — I know that ; 
 and knowing that, I shall never try to know 
 more of him than he pleases, and that, I sus- 
 pect, is to know nothing ; so that you see my 
 knowledore is verv limited." 
 
 *^ He is going to be married," I said, half 
 smiling. 
 
 ^'I dare say ! When a man of his tempera- 
 ment and character arrives at a certain age, 
 he wants some one to give him coffee and 
 character, tea and comfort, to make his house 
 the fashion, and bear the ill-temper he dare 
 not show at the club — a wife saves her hus- 
 band from many a bilious attack. I always 
 knew he would marry, but hardly thought he 
 would think it pleasant so soon. He cannot 
 be out of fashion yet ; and I did not fancy he 
 would like to share his celebrity ; but perhaps 
 his wife may be one of those simple, loving 
 things who will be content to live in the light 
 of his glory to the end of her days.'^ 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 A woman's story. 
 
 *' The lady he has chosen, '^ I replied (and I 
 was somewhat piqued for Florence), " has a 
 perfect knowledge of her duties, and no desire 
 to shine except in their performance." Helen 
 let fall the papers she had retained until that 
 moment, and holding out her hands, seized mine 
 within hers, looking full into my eyes, while 
 her own were in an instant filled with tears. 
 
 ^' Why should you say that to me ? How- 
 have I deserved so keen a reproof? Has she 
 not had a tender mother to teach her these 
 duties by the loving practice of her own, in a 
 prosperous, happy home, where their exercise 
 is happiness ? — dear friends to watch and 
 cherish, love and praise, away from the war 
 of the world? — no ill-feelings roused by 
 misery, no knowledge forced upon her by ad- 
 versity ? — has she been forced to make elec- 
 tion between two things, either to lay down 
 and see her father (and she pointed to where 
 Mr. Lyndsey still slumbered) starve, or resolve 
 to cultivate and use the power God has given 
 her, and make the world, that would have 
 trampled on her — her slave ?" 
 
 Helen saw I shrank at her last sentence, 
 and, with eyes filled by tears, she continued : —
 
 A TV Oman's story. 307 
 
 *^ Do not, I implore you, judge harshly of the 
 young unshielded woman, whose mother never 
 treated her with kindness, much less love, and 
 who has fought through life unaided and alone 
 — do not judge me hardly — remember what 
 my childhood was. I know that I am not 
 what you would wish ; the very endurance, 
 the very knowledge necessary for my own pre- 
 servation must make me unlike what you 
 believe woman ought to be. I may set more 
 value than you think right upon this Fame — 
 this breath of popularity, but it is my exist- 
 ence ; what else have I to live for ? I may 
 despise the thing itself, even while the breeze 
 wafts me onward ; but what other reward have 
 I for the longj long struggle with the rapacity 
 of publishers — the ignorance of editors — the 
 taunts of the illiberal against a working woman, 
 — the long, long nights and days of labour? and, 
 without one ray of light or love in my own 
 home. Just think of my having none to love 
 or care for, or encourage me — think of my 
 father! — the breathing form, that is all — a 
 body without a soul ; he never had a mind to 
 direct me ; but the last throb of his feeling was 
 
 X 2
 
 308 A woman's story. 
 
 for his child ! yet now he does not know m e ! 
 Imagine all this, and then picture, if you can, 
 the fearful stillness, the loneliness of these 
 days, the deep readings of hearts and minds, 
 and motives, which they gave me ; and when 
 at the house of one acqaintance, whom I did 
 not like, but found it needful to tolerate, I 
 met at long intervals troops of human beings, 
 they did me no good, for my heart did not 
 open to them, and I used to return to my 
 labour, pleased for a time that I was alone. 
 I had a right purpose to accomplish. My 
 father's debts were not large nor numerous, 
 but I resolved to pay them, and that before I 
 devoted my earnings to one luxury for myself 
 I have steeped my head in water, and trimmed 
 my lamp, and worked; and when morning 
 was fairly come, extinguished that lamp, and 
 again steeping my head, folded my hair around 
 it, and worked on. This had its stern reward 
 and my purpose was accomplished, and then the 
 throbbing — burning desire — this passion for the 
 power — the influence — the immortality — yes 
 — that is it — the immortality which follows 
 success — came upon me with tenfold strength, 
 I desired, / do desire, to be known and
 
 A woman's story. 309 
 
 honoured in my own land, to bring another 
 proof to lordly man (though well I know he 
 will detest me for so doing) that the mind is of 
 no sex! I would rather never have been 
 born, than sink into a nameless grave ! " 
 
 *' Oh Helen," I exclaimed " you forget how 
 many saints, who are now angels in heaven — 
 have passed from earth — their names un- 
 honoured and unknown — and yet the good 
 and holy seed sown by them, in silence and 
 obscurity, has fructified and flourished in their 
 descendants — no one is nameless who is a 
 registered follower oiHini, who died to save us. 
 
 ^' Oh, "she exclaimed, in a tone of the deepest 
 and tenderest melancholy. ^^ We differ sadly 
 — it is not given to your calm, well regulated 
 nature to understand the burning desire for 
 fame, which still cries — forward — forward ! ' 
 
 ^' Helen! why not upward — upward?'" 
 
 " My Nobody, you must not preach to me 
 just now, I am fever-stricken, and cannot bear 
 it, and surely, it is not fair to judge me, 
 self-acting almost from childhood, as you would 
 judge those who slumber on roses, and wake 
 to all the endearments of home and 
 love ? Had I been so nurtured, I should
 
 310 A woman's story. 
 
 perhaps have been — what was it you said ? — 
 but I do not wish to recal it ; only do not 
 judge me harshly ; do not — do not, dearest — 
 now or hereafter ! this thirsting — panting — 
 toiling — praying for an immortality, which, 
 after all, it may never be designed that dust 
 and ashes should enjoy — may yet be lifted 
 on angels' wings above this world. I have had 
 visions — obscured by tears and agonies of self- 
 reproach, terrors, which death itself could not 
 darken, that I was not working out the pur- 
 pose of this gift (for / have the gift) according 
 to the will of Him who gave it ! I have not 
 sought to screen, but to beautify. I have 
 desired rather to dazzle than to enlighten — 
 but I am young still ! too proud to seek for 
 sympathy ; yes, I know you are there ; but 
 you are too calm, too passionless to under" 
 stand me ; but have patience with me, and 
 pray for me — pray for me always, and do not 
 judge me harshly. 
 
 This appeal was poured forth far more 
 eloquently than 1 can repeat it — most elo- 
 quently — and I was more than angry with 
 myself for having said anything to wound her; 
 and when at last she drew her handkerchief
 
 A woman's story. 311 
 
 from her face, and looked again brightly into 
 mine, I felt that the only earthly hope to win her 
 to seek what would yield her more happiness 
 than fame could ever give to woman, must arise 
 from her meeting some object upon whom the 
 affections of her heart, and the treasures of 
 her mind could be bestowed, and by whom 
 they would be valued. But the present was 
 now to be thought of, and I said so. 
 
 *' Yes," she replied, " the present, it 
 is very true, the cares of the present, the 
 wants of the present ; the author^s future 
 comes only to the grave. But you have 
 not told me whom Marley is about to 
 marry ?'* 
 
 " Your cousin Florence." 
 
 " Indeed ! but she is a child, is she not?" 
 
 " A few months older than yourself." 
 
 '^ And handsome?" 
 
 '^ Yes." 
 
 " Then she is good, I am sure of it ; no 
 beautiful woman was ever naturally evil ; but I 
 will not see her, will not have her know that 
 I still live, until after the fate of my play is 
 decided; I will not be sympathized with, or 
 * felt for ' by my rich relations. I could not
 
 312 A woman's story. 
 
 bear that — no, T will think of nothing till 
 that is over." 
 
 " But yon must leave this horrid den/' I 
 said ; " these sights and sounds are enough to 
 set to flight all poetic imaginings.'^ 
 
 " When the mind is pre-occupied, rs mine 
 has been, it matters little ; I have as good a 
 taste for magnificence as any one, but I must 
 have means for its display ; if that comes, I 
 can indulge it with an unblushing cheek. 
 Here I shall never be found out. But enough 
 of myself — now for this play. The manager 
 has not a notion who I am, or that I am in 
 England ; the thing will be read with closed 
 doors, none but those who are cast in the cha- 
 racters will be present ; you used to say, I 
 had a talent for secrets." 
 
 ^^A dangerous talent, and at strange va- 
 riance with other portions of your character,'^ 
 I replied, Marley's vile words rising like 
 phantoms around me. 
 
 She smiled. "Well, I have the bump, 
 I suppose ; but perhaps you are not read in the 
 noble science of phrenology ; I can only tell 
 you, that if I had believed it (which I did 
 not)j their German chief should never have
 
 A woman's story. 313 
 
 told over my predispositions — and their pe- 
 nalties.'* 
 
 I laughed ; but Helen looked really angry, 
 and moved about the room to dispel her irrita- 
 tion, speaking all the time. 
 
 ^^You must be there — at the theatre I 
 mean — at two, and you can be with me at five 
 or six ; I wish I could transfer my secretive- 
 ness to you, during your green-room sojourn, 
 for I fancy you will be strictly examined.'^ 
 She sat down and wrote a note of introduc- 
 tion, with her usual rapidity, and, deaf as 
 she certainly was to all ordinary sounds, the 
 least change in the evenness of her father^s 
 breathing, the least movement he made, at 
 once attracted her attention, and she looked 
 anxiously round at him, and then recom- 
 menced her occupation. Under any other 
 circumstances I should have been amused by 
 her manner, which, though older, was in 
 •nothing changed. She never exacted, and yet 
 there was an implied reliance, that whatever 
 she desired to have done, should be done ; it 
 did not occur to her as far as I was — or, as I 
 afterwards observed, others were — concerned, 
 that she should be opposed ; and yet no living
 
 314 A woman's story. 
 
 creature ever appreciated kindness more grate- 
 fully, while her keen perceptions enabled her at 
 once to distinguish the real from the counterfeit. 
 
 During my drive to Mr. Middleton's I had 
 leisure to reflect on what my first appearance 
 in a green-room would be, and I could not but 
 smile at the idea of my being so suddenly 
 thrust among a class of persons for whom I 
 entertained an instinctive dread. I did not 
 find Mr. Middleton infected by the excitement 
 which seemed to have taken possession of the 
 household. The old butler, as he bowed me 
 up stairs, could not avoid saying, " I suppose 
 you have heard, madam ? my dear young lady 
 — and the gentleman— every one says he is 
 the finest gentleman in London T' 
 
 " Florence waited a long time for you," said 
 her father, ' ^ and then she was obliged to go 
 somewhere." 
 
 " But I did not say I would call, my dear 
 sir," I answered ; for T do not like to have my 
 character assailed on the score of punctuality. 
 
 " No, but we thought you would ; you 
 always come when you are most wanted, and 
 therefore Florence relies upon your being with 
 her all day to-morrow."
 
 A woman's story. 315 
 
 " For once I shall lose my good character 
 with you ; I cannot come.'' 
 
 " Indeed ! are you engaged !" 
 
 " I am, I am going to — " it was just out. 
 I paused. 
 
 " There/' said my good friend, *^ you were 
 going to betray a secret : I know you were : 
 however, I will not ask you, will not tempt 
 you — only say I am very sorry for it ; for your 
 being here to-morrow would have been im- 
 portant to us all. However, I am sure no 
 common engagement would keep you from us 
 at this time." 
 
 " I can be here until one, or half-past 
 twelve," I said. 
 
 " Thank you, we are always glad to have 
 you with us; but Florence wished for you 
 most particularly between two and six.'' 
 
 " The hours during which I shall be en- 
 gaged ; will not the day after do as well ?" 
 
 " I believe not," said Mr. Middleton ; '' I 
 wish it would ; for I tell you, whom I always 
 confide in, that T shudder when I think of 
 this marriage ; why can this be ? In every 
 respect Mr. Marley seems the person suited 
 for her j I can find no fault with him, I have
 
 316 A woman's stort. 
 
 tried to, and yet I cannot like him. I have 
 not been what the world calls ambitious for 
 my child, on the contrary, I have rather with- 
 drawn from the circle where high connexions 
 might have been made, because I would not 
 have even the semblance that an iota of her 
 feelings were sacrificed — I could not endure 
 that — and so I kept her back, perhaps too 
 strictly, within our own sphere. When I see 
 how perfectly happy she is — how devoted, too, 
 and proud of the distinguished man who has 
 chosen her — instead of sympathizing with her 
 prospects, I wonder what her waking from 
 that dream will be 1 Mrs. Dellamere seems 
 under the spell of witchcraft ; poor dear soul, 
 she is quite in ecstacies, but / cannot rejoice ; 
 when I attempt it, my spirits sink; I pray, 
 and yet tremble ; this life is a sad perplexity, 
 and I feel the uncertainty of all things more 
 than ever. How we seek to establish and 
 strengthen what crumbles away from us on 
 every side ! how we set the jewels of our ex- 
 istence in fine gold, and build our hopes on 
 foundations that seem imperishable ! and yet 
 our very carefulness aids in their destruction. 
 My own beloved Florence ! I have so refined
 
 A woman's story. 317 
 
 her mind — I have so sought to polish, to purify, 
 to regulate it, that if she discover anything in 
 her husband — anything short of what her 
 standard is — she will pine to death I know 
 this, and I have no faith in Marley ; it is not 
 because at times I perceive a want of keeping 
 in his manner ; I know, that though not as 
 fastidious as I used to be about trifles, I am fas- 
 tidious still, and sometimes he has shocked, by 
 some almost nameless act, my preconceived and 
 established notions of high breeding. But he 
 has lived much abroad, and habits change. I 
 cannot conceal the fact from myself, that I lack 
 faith in him ; yet his reputation is without a 
 blemish, his fortune ample ; he is punctual in 
 all religious observances, and never utters 
 an irreverent word ; my anxiety for my child's 
 happiness amounts to a positive agony — and I 
 dare not tell her so." 
 
 I would have combated this feeling if I 
 could ; as it was, I could only instance how 
 hard it was for fathers to be pleased who had 
 such children as Florence — how highly Mr. 
 Marley was thought of by the world, and how 
 devoted he was to our beloved Florence ; and 
 Mr. Middleton said ^ yes,' ^ true,' ^ very true/
 
 318 A woman's story. 
 
 to all I said, and sighed at each admission. I 
 never saw him so unlike himself — so restless ; 
 and, when leading me to the carriage, he 
 paused on the stairs, and taking me into his 
 library, Avithdrew the curtain that veiled his 
 wife's portrait. '* You see," he said, '^ that 
 picture : you see it — it is almost herself ; and 
 at night, when I pray before it, it is in some 
 lights so very like, that I have called out, in 
 the deep agony of my soul, * Speak to me !' 
 Well, as surely as you see that picture on that 
 wall, so surely did I see HER, as in life, by my 
 bedside last night. I looked earnestly at her — 
 and, as I looked, the foot-curtains drew 
 back, and I saw in the glass which fills 
 the pier between the windows, the shadow of 
 the communion-table — the high windows of 
 coloured glass behind, the tables of the law 
 between the communion rails, hassocks, books, 
 clergymen — all as it is in our own church ; 
 and in front of the communion table, where 
 it is right to be at such a ceremony, stood Flo- . 
 rence and Marley — the semblance perfect. The 
 book was opened ; the figure that had been at 
 my side glided into the group in a moment, 
 closed the book, and, taking Florence by the
 
 A woman's story. 319 
 
 hand, led her to the tomb — the monument 
 which I erected to my wife's memory at Little 
 Hampton. They disappeared together. You 
 will tell me it was an illusion : I know it — 
 what else could it be ! — it could be nothing 
 else. My brain was heated — granted ; but it 
 was strange." 
 
 " Last night/' I said, "you fancied you saw 
 this ?" 
 
 " Last night." 
 
 " Dwelling upon it, as you cannot avoid 
 doing, if you sleep in the same bed — the glass 
 in the same position — it is more than a chance 
 your dream may be repeated to-night. Take 
 my advice : you have a friend at Eichmond-on- 
 the-Hill — sleep at his house to-night ; change 
 the close air of town for the bracing air of the 
 loveliest hill in England, and your nerves will 
 not be assailed again. You owe it to yourself 
 and Florence to make this effort, and I am sure 
 it will be successful. I never knew a mor- 
 bidity of this kind that a bracing ride and a 
 total change of scene did not disperse ; if you 
 yield to it, your whole nervous system will 
 become deranged." 
 
 " You are quite right," he said — " quite —
 
 320 A woman's story. 
 
 quite right. I can leave this evening, and with 
 perfect propriety, for Marley is gone out of 
 town — watj called away unexpectedly last 
 night, and will not return before to-morrow 
 morning. Florence will think I go to com- 
 municate the glad tidings of her marriage to 
 my old friend. I feel relieved by having told 
 you ; perhaps you will call early to-morrow. 
 I will return rather early from Kichmond ; but 
 there is no necessity for my being here before 
 two o'clock, and I feel assured the change will 
 do me good ; besides, I am almost certain that 
 my old chum Beauchamp must have met 
 Marley abroad : they were . at Malta at the 
 same time. It is altogether a fortunate 
 thought of yours." 
 
 He looked quite another man when I bade 
 him adieu. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 CBAULKS BE'VAN AUD SON, F&IMTERS, CHAFEL STREET, OROSTKNOR SQUARE.
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH ST., LONDON. 
 
 lEW AND INTERESTING WORKS 
 
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 From Original Famii.v Documents. By the DUKE OF BUCKING- 
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 " Here are two more goodly volumes on the English Court ; volumes full of new 
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 of this story the documents published by the Duke of Buckingham cast new jets of light, 
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 edification and amusement." — Literary Gazette. 
 
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 and stirring English history. To the Duke of Buckingham, who thus, out of his family 
 archives, places within our reach authentic and exceedingly minute pictures of the governors 
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 by the judicious setting of the explanatory comment that accompanies them, which is put 
 together with much care and honesty." — Examiner. 
 
 LORD GEORGE BENTINCK: A POLITICAL BIO- 
 
 GRAPHY. Bythe RIGHT HON. B. DISRAELI, M.P. Fifth and cheaper 
 Edition, Revised. Post 8vo. 10s. 6d. bound. 
 
 *' This biography cannot fail to attract the deep attention of the public. We are bound 
 to say, that as a political biography we have rarely, if ever, met with a book more dexterously; 
 handled, or more replete with interest. The history of the famous session of 1846, as 
 written by Disraeli in that brilliant and pointed style of which he is so consummate a master, 
 is deeply interesting. He has traced this memorable struggle with a vivacity and power 
 unequalled as yet in any narrative of Parliamentary proceedings." — Blackwood's Mag, 
 
 LORD PALMERSTON'S OPINIONS AND POLICY; AS 
 
 Minister, Diplomatist, and Statesman, during more than Forty Years 
 of Public Life. 1 vol. 8vo with Portrait, 7s. 6d. bound. 
 
 " This work ought to have a place in every political library. It gives a complete view 
 of the sentiments and opinions by which the policy of Lord Falmerston has been dictated as 
 9. diplomatist and statesman." — Chronicle. 
 
 „ This is a remarkable and seasonable publication ; but it is something more — it is a 
 valuable addition to the historical treasures of our country during more than forty of the 
 most memorable years of our annals. We earnestly recommend the volume to general 
 perusal."— S/awdwrd.
 
 HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE COURT AND CABINETS OF 
 
 GEORGE THE THIRD, From Original Family Documents. Uy 
 the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM AND CHANDOS, K.G., &c. The 
 Third and Fourth Volumes, comprising the period from 1800 to 1810, 
 and completing this important work. 8vo., with Portraits. 30s. bound. 
 
 From the Times. — "These volumes consist in the main, of letters written by the two 
 brothers, Lord Grenviile, and Mr. T. Grenville, to their elder brother, the Marquis of 
 Buckingham, for his information as to the political circumstances of the time. In the two 
 former volumes a great amount of curious gossip, and of valuable information, was 
 contained relative to the formation of the Coalition Ministry, ths King's illness in 178S, 
 and the early period of the war with revolutionary France. Volumes 3 and 4 take up the 
 tale where volumes 1 and 2 had left it ; and herein we find a connected narrative of the 
 many stining historical events which occurred between 1800, when Lord Grenville and 
 Talleyrand were in correspondence respecting Bonaparte's proposals for peace, until the 
 return of the King's malady in 1810 and the debates in Parliament relative to the regency. 
 The present collection is more valuable than the last, inasmuch as Lord Grenville, having 
 attained higher dignity and experience, is a more dispassionate observer of passing events. 
 Whoever would desire to read the running comments of so eminent and well informed a 
 man as Lord Grenville upon a decade so interesting as that of 1800 — 10, would do well to 
 consult these volumes. Lord Grenville was certainly among the most far-sighted men of 
 his time ; and to him, from the first, belongs the credit of appreciating truly Napoleon 
 Bonaparte's position and designs. He did so even to a higher degree than Pitt ; and it is 
 most remarkable how far his predictions have been verified by the event, even when 
 submitted to the sharp test of the judgment of posterity. The principal points on .which 
 light is thrown by the present correspondence are, the negociations before and after the 
 Treaty of Amiens until the time of its rupture — the true character of Addington's Adminis- 
 tration, and the relations between 'The Doctor' and Pitt — the formation of the Pitt and 
 Sidmouth Cabinet, when the King's prejudices against Charles Fox were found to be insur- 
 mountable — the Grenville and Fox short Administration — the Duke of Portland's Cabinet — 
 the expedition to Portugal, with its climax at Cintra — the Duke of York's scandal with Mrs. 
 Clarke — Sir John Moore's retreat, with the earlier Spanish campaigns of Sir Arthur VVel- 
 lesley, and, finally, the disastrous Walcheren afiFair. There is much curious matter inter- 
 posed in the shape of precis upon the situation of affairs written from time to time by Lord 
 Grenville himself; and perhaps still more curious reports made to the Marquis of Bucking- 
 ham by a certain , whose name remains a mystery, but who seems to have been 
 
 tolerably well acquainted with the arcana imperii at the beginning of the century. There 
 is much in these volumes which well deserves perusal. There is a portion of their contents 
 which possesses nearly as high a claim upon our instant and careful consideration as the 
 Minutes of the Sebastopol Committee." 
 
 From the Athen^um. — "The present volumes exhibit the same features as the former 
 portion of the series. The general reader is entertained, and the reader for historical 
 purposes is enlightened. Of their value and importance, there cannot be two opinions." 
 
 THE LIVES OF PHILIP HOWARD, EAEL OF 
 
 ARUNDEL, AND OF ANNE DACRES, HIS WIFE. Edited from tlie 
 Original MSS. By the DUKE OF NORFOLK, E.M. 1 vol. antique, 
 10s. 6d.
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF THE LAST FOUR 
 
 POPES. By His Eminence CARDINAL WISEMAN. 8vo. Portraits. (In 
 the Press.) 
 
 EASTERN HOSPITALS AND ENGLISH NURSES; 
 
 The Narrative of Twelve Months' Experience in the Hospitals of Koulali 
 and Scutari. By A LADY VOLUNTEER. Third and Cheaper Edition, 
 1 vol. post 8vo. with Illustrations, 6s. bound. 
 
 "A production which, not only in the subject-matter, but in its treatment, is filled with 
 the purest and best evidences of womanly tenderness. What the nurses did for our sick 
 and wounded soldiers — how they ministered to their wants and assuaged their sufferings — 
 how that composite body of hired attendants, sisters, nuns, and lady volunteers, worked 
 together for a common object — how their duties were apportioned — and how, in health or 
 illness, their time passed away — are all faithfully and minutely detailed in these volumes. 
 •Eastern Hospitals and English Nurses' will, no doubt, command a good circulation." 
 —The Times. 
 
 "The story of the noble deeds done by Miss Nightingale and her devoted sisterhood 
 will never be more effectively told than in the beautiful narrative contained in these 
 volumes." — John Bull. 
 
 " Our readers will find much to interest them in the Lady Volunteer's account of her 
 labours." — Atheneeum. 
 
 JOURNAL OF ADVENTURES WITH THE BRITISH 
 
 ARMY, from the Commencement of the War to the Fall of Sebastopol. 
 By GEORGE CAVENDISH TAYLOR, late 95th Regiment. 2 vols, 
 post 8vo., 21s. hound. 
 
 •' The evidence these volumes contain is exceedingly valuable. The real state of things 
 is here exhibited " — John Bull. 
 
 "There was scarcely an occurrence of any importance that Mr. Taylor was not an eye- 
 witaess of. Balaklava, Inkermann, Kertch, the operations in the Sea of Azof, Anapa, the 
 storming of the Malakoflf and the Redan, and the taking possession of Sebastopol — each 
 event is detailed in that concise but clear, professional style which we have not met with 
 before." — United Service Gazette. 
 
 " Mr. Taylor's Journal is valuable for its genuineness, and for the extent of experience 
 embraced in it." — Examiner. 
 
 TURKEY: ITS HISTORY AND PROGRESS; FROM 
 
 THE JOURNALS AND CORRESPONDENCE OF SIR JAMES PORTER, 
 Fifteen Years Ambassador at Constantinople, continued to the Present Time, 
 with a Memoir of 's{r James Porter, by his Grandson, SIR GEORGE 
 LARPENT, Bart. 2 vols. 8vo., with Illustrations. 16s. bound. 
 "This highly interesting work consists of two parts. The first volume, aftera memoir 
 of Sir James Porter, proceeds to give a general description of the Turkish Empire, of its 
 natural and industrial productions, and its commerce, a sketch of its history from the in- 
 vasion of Europe to the reign of Sultan Mahmud II., and an account of the religion and 
 the civil institutions of the TOrks, and of their manners and customs, chiefly from the 
 data supplied by the papers of Sir James Porter. In the second volume we are made ac- 
 quainted with Turkey as it is j the religious and civil government of Turkey, its Legislature, 
 the state of education in the Empire, its finances, its military and naval strength, and the 
 social condition of the Turks, are all in succession brought under review. The work gives a fuller 
 and more life-like picture of the present state ot the Ottoman Empire, than any other work with 
 which we are acquainted." — John Bull. 
 
 i
 
 HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 ELIZABETH DE VALOIS, QUEEN OF SPAIN, AND 
 
 THE COURT OF PHILIP II. From numerous unpublished sources in 
 the Archives of France, Italy, and Spain. By MISS FREER. 2 vols, 
 post 8vo. with fine Portraits by Heath, 21s. 
 
 " Such a book as the memoir of Elizabeth de Valois is a literary treasure which will be 
 the more appreciated as its merits obtain that reputation to which they most justly are 
 entitled. Miss Freer has done her utmost to make the facts of Elizabeth's, Don Carlos', and 
 Philip II. 's careers fully known, as they actually transpired. The pains this intelligent 
 lady must have been at to have secured the means for so trustworthy a history, cannot but 
 have been very great; doubtless she will be rewarded by finding this, her last and certainly 
 her best publication, as much and as generally appreciated as were her previous memoirs of 
 ftiarguerite d'AngouKme and Jeanne d'Albret, Queens of Navarre." — BeWs Messenger. 
 
 " This interesting work is a valuable addition to the historical biographies of the present 
 day." — Observer. 
 
 "These volumes will well repay perusal. They relate to a period of history extremely 
 important and rich in materials of interest. Miss Freer is an industrious biographer. She 
 goes to original sources of information, and she gives the reader all the details she can 
 collect." — Press. 
 
 "This book will add to the reputation of its able authoress." — Sun. 
 
 THE LIFE OF MARGUERITE FANGOULEME, 
 
 QUEEN of NAVARRE, SISTER of FRANCIS I. From numerous original 
 sources, including MS. Documents in the Bibliotheque Imperiale, and the 
 Archives du Royaume de France, and the Private Correspondence of Queen 
 Marguerite with Francis I, &c. By MISS FREER. Second Edition, 
 Revised, 2 vols, post 8vo., with fine Portraits, engraved by Heath, 21s. 
 
 " This is a very complete and cleverly-written life of the illustrious sister of Francis I., 
 and it may be said of her that the varied and interesting stores of French history oiffer no 
 theme more worthy of research and study than the career of this great princess, who exer- 
 cised so potent an influence over the politics and manners of the age of which she was 
 herself the brightest ornament. The published and manuscript documents and letters 
 relating to the life of Marguerite of Navarre, and which are indispensable to a correct 
 biography of this queen, are widely dispersed. The author has spared no cost or trouble in 
 endeavouring to obtain all that were likely to elucidate her character and conduct. She has 
 furnished us with a very interesting and graphic sketch of the singular events and the 
 important personages who took part in them during this stormy and remarkable period of 
 French and English history." — Observer. 
 
 " This is a very useful and amusing book. It is a good work, very well done. The 
 authoress is quite equal in power and grace to Miss Strickland. She must have spent great 
 time and labour in collecting the information, which she imparts in an easy and agreeable 
 manner. It is difficult to lay down her book after having once begun it. This is owing 
 partly to the interesting nature of the subject, partly to the skilful manner in which it has 
 been treated. No other life of Marguerite has yet been published, even in France. Indeed, 
 till Louis Philippe ordered the collection and publication of manuscripts relating to the 
 history of France, no such work could be published. It is difficult to conceive how, under 
 any circumstances, it could have been better done." — Standard. 
 
 " There are few names more distinguished than that of Marguerite d'Angoulfime in the 
 range of female biography, and Miss Freer has done well in taking up a subject so copious 
 and attractive. It is altogether an interesting and well-written biography."— L£^. Gaz 
 
 THE LIFE OF JEANNE D'ALBRET, QUEEN OF 
 
 NAVARRE, from numerous original sources, including M.S. Documents in 
 the Bibliotheque Imperiale and the Archives Espagnoles de Siraancas. By 
 MISS FREER. 2 vols, with Portraits, 21s. bound.
 
 HURST AND BLACKETt's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 REVELATIONS OF PRISON LIFE; WITH AN EN-. 
 
 auiRY INTO Prison Discipline and Secondary Punishments. By 
 GEORGE LAVAL CHESTERTON, Twenty-five Years Governor of the 
 House of Correction at Cold- Bath Fields. Third Edition, Revised. 1 vol. 
 10s. 6d. 
 
 " Mr Chesterton has had a rare experience of human frailty. He has lived with the,' 
 felon, the forger, the loretie, the vagabond, the murderer j has looked into the darkest 
 sepulchres of the heart, without finding reason to despair of mankind. In his belief the 
 worst of men have still some of the angel left. Such a testimony from such a quarter is full 
 of novelty as it is of interest. As a curious bit of human history these volumes are remark- 
 able. They are very real, very simple; dramatic without exaggeration, philosophic without 
 being dull. In dealing with a subject so peculiar as prison life, Mr. Chesterton was wise in 
 making his treatment personal and incidental. General descriptions, however accurate, 
 interest only a few ; but stories of crime, anecdotes of criminals, may attract all readers." 
 — Athenaeum. 
 
 "This interesting book is full of such illustrations as the narrative of striking cases 
 affords, and is indeed as well calculated to entertain mere readers for amusement as to 
 instruct and assist those who are studying the great questions of social reform." — Examiner. 
 
 " The very interesting work just published by Capt. Chesterton, entitled ' Revelations 
 of Prison Life." — Quarterly Re>new. 
 
 THE OLD COURT SUBURB; OR, MEMORIALS OF 
 
 KENSINGTON ; Regal, Critical, and Anecdotical. By LEIGH 
 HUNT. Second Edition. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. elegantly bound. 
 
 "A delightful book, of which the charm begins at the the first line on the first page, for 
 full of quaint and pleasant memories is the phrase that is its title — 'The Old Court Suburb.' 
 Very full, too, both of quaint and pleasant memories is the line that designates the author. 
 It is the name of the most cheerful of chroniclers, the bestof remembrancers of good things, 
 the most polished and entertaining of educated gossips. 'The Old Court Suburb' is a work 
 that will be welcome to all readers, and most welcome to those who have a love for the best 
 kinds of reading." — Examiner. 
 
 " Under the quaint title of 'The Old Court Suburb,' Mr. Leigh Hunt gossips pleasantly, 
 spiritedly, and at large, over all that is of interest in Kensington and its neighbourhood. The 
 subject is happily chosen, for Kensington comprises in it more of antiquarian and literary 
 interest than any other spot in London. It is precisely the kind of book to be pored over by 
 the sea-side or fire-side, where the reader can transport himself, assisted by the poetic fancy 
 of Mr. Hunt, to the company of the wits and beauties of past generations. We very warmly 
 recommend these pleasant volumes to the attention of our readers." — Chronicle 
 
 "A more agreeable and entertaining book has not been published since Boswell produced 
 his reminiscences of Johnson." — Observer, 
 
 THE LITERATURE AND ROMANCE OF NORTHERN 
 
 EUROPE ; constituting a complete History of the Literature of Sweden, 
 Denmark, Norway, and Iceland. By WILLIAM and MARY HOWITT. 
 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ELIZABETH DAVIS, A BA- 
 
 LAKLAVA NURSE. 2 vols, post 8vo , with Portraits, 21s.
 
 HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 THE LIFE OF MAUIE DE MEDICIS, QUEEN OF 
 
 FRANCE, Consort of Henry IV., and Regent under Louis XIII. 
 By MISS PARDOE, Author of " Louis XIV, and the Court of France, iu 
 the 17th Century," &c. Second Edition. 3 large vols. 8vo. with fine 
 Portraits. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE BARONESS D'OBERKIRCK, 
 
 Illustrative of the Secret History of the Courts of France, 
 Russia, and Germany. Written by HERSELF, and Edited by Her 
 Grandson, the COUNT DE MONTBRISON. 3 vols, post 8vo. 15s. 
 
 The Baroness d'Oberkirch being the intimate friend of the Empress of Russia, 
 wife of Paul I., and the confidential companion of the Duchess of Bourbon, her 
 facilities for obtaining information respecting the most private affairs of the 
 principal Courts of Europe, render her Memoirs unrivalled as a book of interest- 
 ing anecdotes of the royal, noble and other celebrated individuals who flourished 
 on the continent during the latter part of the last century. Among the royal per- 
 sonages introduced to the reader in this work, are Louis XVI., Marie Antoinette, 
 Philip Egalite, and all the Princes of France then living — Peter the Great, the 
 Empress Catherine, the Emperor Paul, and his sons Constantine and Alexander, 
 of Russia — Frederick the Great and Prince Henry of Prussia — the Emperor 
 Joseph II. of Austria — Gustavus III, of Sweden — Princess Christina of Saxony 
 — Sobieski, and Czartoriski-of Poland — and the Princes of Brunswick and 
 Wurtemburg. Among the most remarkable persons are the Princes and 
 Princesses de Lamballe, de Ligne and Galitzin — the Dukes and Duchesses de 
 Choiseul, de Mazarin, de Boufflers, de la Valli^re, de Guiche, de Penthievre, and 
 de Polignac — Cardinal de Rohan, Marshals Biron and d'Harcourt, Count de 
 Staremberg, Baroness de Krudener, Madame Geoffrin, Talleyrand, Mirabeau, and 
 Necker — with Count Cagliostrc, Mesmer, Vestris, and Madame Mara ; and the 
 work also includes such literary celebrities as Voltaire, Condorcet, de la Harpe, 
 de Beauraarchais, Rousseau, Lavater, Bernouilli, Raynal, de I'Epee, Huber, 
 Gothe, Wieland, Malesherbes, Marmontel, de Stael and de Genlis ; with some 
 singular disclosures respecting those celebrated Englishwomen, Elizabeth Chud- 
 leigh, Duchess of Kingston, and Lady Craven, Margravine of Anspach. 
 
 PAINTING AND CELEBRATED PAINTERS, AN- 
 
 CIENT and MODERN ; including Historical and Critical Notices of the 
 Schools of Italy, Spain, France, GeiMiany, and the Netherlands. Edited by 
 LADY JERVIS. 2 vols, post 8vo. 12s. bound. 
 
 " This hook is designed to give to the general public a popular knowledge of the History 
 of Painting and the characters of Painters, with especial reference to the most prominent 
 among those of their works which are to be seen in English galleries. It is pleasantly written 
 with the intention of serving a useful purpose. It succeeds in its design, and will be of real 
 use to the multitude of picture seers. As a piece of agreeable reading also, it is unex- 
 ceptionable." — Examiner. 
 
 " This useful and well-arranged compendium will be found of value to the amateur, and 
 pleasing as well as instructive to the general reader j and, to give it still further praise, the 
 collector will find abundance of most useful information, and many an artist will rise from 
 the perusal of the work with a much clearer idea of his art than he had before. We sum up 
 its merits by recommending it as an acceptable handbook to the principal galleries, and a 
 trustworthy guide to a knowledge of the celebrated paintings in England, and that this 
 Information is valuable and much required by many thousands is a well-proven fact."— 
 Sunday Times.
 
 i 
 
 8 HURST AND BLACKETT'S NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 MY EXILE. BY ALEXANDER HERZEN. 2 Vols. 
 
 post 8vo. 21s. bound. 
 
 •• From these admirable memoirs the reader may derive a clear idea of Russian political 
 society. Mr. Herzen's narrative, ably and unaffectedly written, and undoubtedly authentic, is 
 indeed superior in Interest to nine-tenths of the existing works on Russ\u..'*—AtheruBum. 
 
 "The author of these memoirs is one of the most distinguished writers of his nation. 
 A politician and historian, he scarcely reached manhood before the Emperor Nicholas 
 feared and persecuted him as an enemy. He was twice arrested, twice exiled. In this 
 English version of his memoirs, he presents a highly characteristic view of Russian 
 official society, interspersed with sketches of rural life, episodes of picturesque adventures, 
 and fragments of serious speculation. We gain from this narrative of persecution and exile 
 a better idea of the governing system in Russia, than from any previous work. It is rich la 
 curious and authentic detail." — The Leader. 
 
 THE MOSLEM AND THE CHRISTIAN ; OR, ADVEN- 
 
 TURES IN THE EAST. By SADYK PASHA. Revised with original 
 Notes, by COLONEL LACH SZYRMA, Editor of "Revelations or 
 Siberia." 3 vols, post 8vo. 15s. bound. 
 
 " Sadyk Pasha, the author of this work, is a Pole of noble birth. He is now commander 
 of the Turkish Cossacks, a corps organised by himself. The volumes on the Moslem and 
 the Christian, partly fact and partly fiction, written by him, and translated by Colonel 
 Siyrma, display very well the literary spirit of the soldier. They are full of the adventures 
 and emotions that belong to love and war; they treat of the present time, they introduce 
 many existing people, and have the Danubian principalities for scene of action. Here are 
 sources of popularity which the book fairly claims." — Examiner. 
 
 HOME LIFE IN RUSSIA. REVISED BY COL. LACH 
 
 SZYRMA, Editor of " Revelations OF Siberia." 2 vols. postSvo. 12s. 
 
 "This work gives a very interesting and graphic account of the manners and customs of 
 the Russian people. The most interesting and amusing parts of the work will be found to be 
 those interior scenes in the houses of the wealthy and middle classes of Russia upon which 
 we have but scanty information, although they are some of the most striking and truthful 
 indications of the progress and civilization of a country. As such we recommend them to the 
 study of our readers." — Observer. 
 
 REVELATIONS OF SIBERIA. BY A BANISHED 
 
 LADY. Third and cheaper Edition. 2 vols, post 8vo. 16s. 
 
 " A thoroughly good book. It cannot be read by too many people." — Household Words. 
 
 " The authoress of these volumes was a lady of quality, who, having incurred the 
 displeasure of the Russian Government for a political offence, was exiled to Siberia. The 
 place of her exile was Berezov, the most northern part of this northern penal settlement ; and 
 in it she spent about two years, not unprofitubly, as the reader will find by her interesting 
 work, containing a lively and graphic picture of the country, the people, their manners and 
 customs, &c. The book gives a most important and valuable insight into the economy o/ 
 what has been hitherto the terra incognita of Russian despotism." — Daily News. 
 
 " Since the publication of the famous romance the * Exiles of Siberia,' we have had 
 no account of these desolate lands more attractive than the present work." — Glube, 
 
 i
 
 HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. & 
 
 THE JOURNALS AND COREESPONDENCE OF 
 
 GENERAL SIR HARRY CALVERT, Bart., G.C.B. and G.C.H., Ad- 
 
 jutant-General of the forces under H.R.H. the Duke of York, 
 
 comprising the Campaigns in Flanders and Holland in 1793-94; -with an 
 
 Appendix containing His Plans for the Defence of the Country in case of 
 
 Invasion. Edited by His Son, SIR HARRY VERNEY, Bart. 1 vol. royal 
 
 8vo., with large maps, 14s. bound. 
 
 " Both the journals and letters of Capt. Calvert are full of interest. Sir Harry 
 Verney has performed his duties of editor very well. The book is creditable to all parties 
 concerned in its production." — Athenaeum. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY MILITARY LIFE. BY 
 
 COLONEL LANDMANN, Late of the Corps of Royal Engineers, 
 Author of " Adventures and Recollections." 2 vols, post 8vo. 12s. bound. 
 
 " Much as has been written of late years about war and Wellington, we know of nothing 
 that contains so striking a picture of the march and the battle as seen by an individual, or so 
 close and homely a sketch of the Great Captain in the outset of the European career of Sir 
 Arthur VVeliesley." — Spectator. 
 
 *' The deserved popularity with which the previous volumes of Colonel Landmann's 
 adventures were received will be increased by the present portion of these interesting and 
 amusing records of a long life passed in active and arduous service. The Colonel's 
 shrewdness of observation renders his sketches of character highly amusing^." — Britannia. 
 
 COLONEL LANDMANN'S ADVENTURES AND Re- 
 collections. 2 vols, post 8vo. 12s. bound. ■ 
 
 " Among the anecdotes in this work will be found notices of King George III., the Dukes 
 of Kent, Cumberland, Cambridge, Clarence, and Richmond, the Princess Augusta, Genera 
 Garth, Sir Harry Mildmay, Lord Charles Somerset, Lord Edward Fitzgerald, Lord Heath- 
 field, Captain Grose, &c. The volumes abound in interesting matter. The anecdotes are 
 one and all amusing." — Observer. 
 
 ADVENTURES OF THE CONNAUGHT RANGERS. 
 
 Second Series. By WILLIAM GRATTAN, Esa., late Lieutenant 
 CoNNAUGHT Rangers. 2 vols. 21s. bound. 
 
 " In this second series of the adventures of this famous regiment, the author extends 
 his narrative from the first formation of the gallant 88th up to the occupation of Paris. All 
 the battles, sieges, and skirmishes, in which the regiment took part, are described. The 
 volumes are interwoven with original anecdotes that give a freshness and spirit to the whole. 
 The stories, and the sketches of society and manners, with the anecdotes of the celebrities of 
 the time, are told in an agreeable and unaffected manner. The work bears all the character- 
 istics of a soldier's straightforward and entertaining narrative." — Sunday Times. 
 
 NARRATIVE OF A RESIDENCE AT NEPAUL. BY 
 
 CAPTAIN THOMAS SMITH, late Assistant Political-Resident at 
 
 Nepaul. 2 vols, post 8vo. 12s. bound. 
 
 "No man could be better qualified to describe Nepaul than Captain Smith j-and his 
 concise, but clear and graphic account of its history, its natural productions, its laws and 
 customs, and the character of its warlike inhabitants, is very agreeable and instructive 
 reading. A separate cliapter, not the least entertaining in the book, is devoted to anecdotes 
 of the Nepauiese mission, of whom, and of their visit to Europe, many remarkable stories 
 are told."— Pos/,
 
 10 HURST AND BLaCKETt's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 AET AND NATURE, AT HOME AND ABROAD. BY 
 
 G. W. THORNBURY. Esa. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. bound. 
 
 "This i3 the best book Mr. Thornbury has written. Being an artist, he M'rites about 
 art; as a Londoner, with quick eyes and a cultivated taste, he writes of London } as an 
 artist who has travelled he tells anecdotes and dwells on scenes of his past life abroad. All 
 this he does in a frank, genuine way." — Examiner. 
 
 "This is a book belonging to the tribe of which GeoflFrey Crayon is patriarch. Mr, 
 Thornbury's drawing may be less accurate than crayon drawing, but it is richer in colour, 
 and wider and more versatile in the choice of subjects. As a whole, Mr. Thornbury's 
 volumes are lively, pictorial, and \aLi\oxis." —Athenaum. ^ <' 
 
 " We have not met with so original a work for many a day as these two volumes by Mr. 
 Thornbury. They have the freedom and freshness of genius. Acute observation is com- 
 bined with great research ; yet the style is so dashing, that the last thing we think of is the 
 variety and the extent of knowledge which these sketches evince. Mr. Thornbury's volumes 
 contain matter to please all tastes. He is grave and gay, picturesque and reflective ; and in 
 all moods and on all subjects he is vivacious and amusing." — The Press. 
 
 " Of all Mr. Thornbury's contributions to the literature of the day, his Sketches 
 entitled ' Art and Nature ' are the best." — Morning Post. 
 
 CLASSIC AND HISTORIC PORTRAITS. BY JAMES 
 
 BRUCE. 2 vols, post 8vo. 12s. bound. 
 
 This work comprises Biographies of the following Classic and Historic Per- 
 sonages : — Sappho, ^Esop, Pythagoras, Aspasia, Milto, Agesilaus, Socrates, Plato, 
 Alcibiades, Helen of Troy, Alexander the Great, Demetrius Poliorcetes, Scipio 
 Africanus, Sylla, Cleopatra, Julius Caesar, Augustus, Tiberius, Germanicus, 
 Caligula, LoUia Paulina, Csesonia, Boadicea, Agrippina, Poppaea, Otho, Commodus, 
 Caracalla, Heliogabalus, Zenobia, Julian the Apostate, Eudocia, Theodora, 
 Charlemagne, Abelard and Heloise, Elizabeth of Hungary, Dante, Robert Bruce, 
 Ignez de Castro, Agnes Sorrel, Jane Shore, Lucrezia Borgia, Anne B alien, Diana 
 of Poitiers, Catherine de Medicis, Queen Elizabeth, Mary Queen of Scots, ' 
 Cervantes, Sir Kenelm Digby, John Sobieski, Anne of Austria, Ninon deTEnclos, ' 
 Mile, de Montpensier, the Duchess of Orleans, Madame de Maintenon, Catherine 
 of Russia, and Madame de Stael. 
 
 " We find in these piquant volumes the liberal outpourings of a ripe scholarship, the 
 results of wide and various reading, given in a style and manner at once pleasant and pictu- 
 resque." — Athenaeum. 
 
 SCOTTISH HEROES IN THE DAYS OF WALLACE 
 
 AND BRUCE. By the Rev. A. LOW, A.M. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 " We may say with confidence that it would not be easy to find a more enjoyable and 
 instructive book in the whole range of biographical and historical literature. Never before 
 has full justice been done o the Scotch heroes of the days of Wallace and Bruce, and 
 there is not a southron an'ong us who will not read with deep and sympathetic interest 
 this graphic and authentic narrative of their gallant exploits." — Morning Post.
 
 HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 11 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CORRESPONDENCE OF MAJOR 
 
 GENERAL SIR W. NOTT, G.C.B., Commander of the Army of 
 Candahar, and Envoy at the Court of Lucknow. 2 vols. 8vo. 
 with Portrait. 16s. bound. 
 
 " These highly interesting volumes give a valuable contribution to the history of India 
 and an admirable portrait of a most distinguished officer." — John Bull. 
 
 "The volumes form a valuable contribution to the biographical stores of the age. To 
 the young soldier, in particular, they will form a most valuable guide, worthy to be placed 
 by the side of the Despatches of the great Duke of Wellington." — Messenger. 
 
 " We know not a book, after the Wellington Despatches, more deserving of the study of 
 a young officer. It might be made one of the standard manuals of military education," 
 '—Literary Gazette. 
 
 " One of the most interesting records of military life that we possess, and a genuine me- 
 morial of one who has achieved a right to be reckoned among England's greatest men." — 
 Daili/ News. •» 
 
 MILITARY LIFE IN ALGERIA. BY THE COUNT P. 
 
 DE CASTELLANE. 2 vols, post 8vo. 12s. bound. 
 
 " We commend this book as really worth perusal. The volumes make us familiarly 
 acquainted with the nature of Algerian experience. St. Arnaud, Canrobert, Changarnier, 
 Cavaignac, Lamorici^re, are brought prominently before the reader." — Ejraminer. 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN ENGLISH SOLDIER IN 
 
 THE UNITED STATES' ARMY. 2 vols, post 8vo. 12s. bound. 
 
 '* The novelty characterising these interesting volumes is likely to secure them many 
 readers. The author went through the Mexican campaign with General Scott, and his volumes 
 contain much descriptive matter concerning battles, sieges, and marches on Mexican 
 territory, besides their sketches of the normal chronic condition of the United States' soldier 
 in time of peace." — Daily News. 
 
 CANADA AS IT WAS, IS, AND MAY BE. BY THE 
 
 late LIEUTENANT-COLONEL SIR R. BONNYCASTLE. With an Account 
 of Recent Transactions, by SIR J. E. ALEXANDER, K.L.S., &c. 2 vols., 
 post 8vo. with maps, &c., 12s. 
 
 ATLANTIC AND TRANSATLANTIC SKETCHES. BY 
 
 CAPTAIN MACKINNON, R.N. 2 vols, post 8vo. 12s. bound. 
 
 "Captain Mackinnon's sketches of America are of a striking character and permanent 
 value. His volumes convey a just impression of the United States. They are light, ani- 
 mated, and lively, full of racy sketches, pictures of life, anecdotes of society, visits to re- 
 markable men and famous places, sporting episodes, &c., very original and interesting." — 
 Sunday Times. 
 
 , SPAIN AS IT IS. BY G. A. HOSKINS, ESQ. 
 
 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 I'. 
 
 .HISTORY OF CORFU ; AND OF THE REPUBLIC 
 
 ' OF THE IONIAN ISLANDS. By LIEUT. H. J. W. JERVIS, Royal 
 
 Artillery. 1 vol. post 8vo. 6s.
 
 12 HURST AND BLACKETT S NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 OEIENTAL AND WESTERN SIBERIA. A NAR- 
 
 RATIVE OF SeVEK YeARS' EXPLORATIONS AND ADVENTURES IN SiBERIA, 
 
 Mongolia, Daouria, the Kirghis Steppes, Chinese Tartary, and 
 Part of Central Asia. By THOMAS WITLAM ATKINSON. Dedi- 
 cated, by Permission, to His Imperial Majesty, Alexander II., Emperor of 
 All the Russias, &c. Preparing for Publication, in one large volume, 
 royal 8vo., Price £2 2s., elegantly bound- Embellished with numerous 
 beautifully coloured plates, and woodcuts, from drawings by the Author, 
 and a map. 
 
 Extract prom the " Examiner," October 25, 1856. — •' Mr. T. "W. Atkinson, an artist 
 of extraordinary merit, in pursuit of the picturesque, has ventured into regions where, 
 probably, no European foot, save his, has ever trodden. Mr. Atliinson's travels embrace 
 Oriental and Western Siberia, Mongolia, Daouria, the Kirghis Steppes, Chinese Tartary, 
 and portions of Central Asia, and occupied him for the space of seven years, time which he 
 has turned to admirable account. It argues no slight devotion to Art, to have undertaken 
 the task of giving to civilised Europe a transcript of what is at once most beautiful and 
 most wonderful in nature, in countries so remote, so difficult of access, and, in many 
 instances, so dangerous to the traveller, whose enterprise led him there. The public may 
 really feel grateful to Mr. Atkinson for thus widely extending our knowledge of this hitherto 
 unknown but most interesting part of the globe." 
 
 Extract from the "ATHENiEUM," October 11, 1856. — "Mr. Atkinson's sketches 
 were made by express permission of the late Emperor of Russia, during seven years' hunting, 
 sketching, and travelling in the plains and mountains of Oriental and Western Siberia, 
 Mongolia, Daouria, the Kirghis Steppes, Chinese Tartary, and Central Asia. Perhaps, no 
 English artist was ever before admitted into this enchanted land of history, or provided vvith 
 the talisman and amulet of a general passport; and well has Mr. Atkinson availed himself 
 of the privilege. Mr. Atkinson's encampments lead us away into forests, gorges of moun- 
 tains, where the thunder shakes the ground and the lightning strikes, like God's sword-blade, 
 among the trees — where the Tartars cower in their felt hut, and the tea-drinkers grow silent 
 round the red logs. Rivers to swim, torrents to pass, became trifles to this adventurous 
 traveller, who has brought us records of places never, perhaps, before visited; for no 
 Englishman has been there — no Russian traveller has written of them." 
 
 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY ROUND THE WORLD, 
 
 Comprising A Winter Passage across the Andes to Chili, with a 
 Visit to the Gold Regions of California and Australia, the South 
 Sea Islands, Java, &c. By F. GERSTAECKER. 3 vols. 31s. 6d. 
 
 ** Starting from Bremen for California, the author of this Narrative proceeded to Rio, 
 and thence to Buenos Ayres; where he exchanged the wild seas for the yet wilder Pampas, 
 and made his way on horseback to Valparaiso across the Cordilleras — a winter passage full of 
 difficulty and danger. From Valparaiso he sailed to California, and visited San Francisco, 
 Sacramento, and the mining districts generally. Thence he steered his course to the South 
 Sea Islands, resting at Honolulu, Tahiti, and other gems of the sea in that quarter, and from 
 thence to Sydney, marching through the Murray Valley, and inspecting the Adelaide district. 
 From Australia he dashed onward to Java, riding through tlie interior, and taking a general 
 survey of Batavia, with a glance at Japan and the Japanese. An active, intelligent, observant 
 man, the notes he made of his adventures are full of variety and interest. His descriptions of 
 places and persons are lively, and his remarks on natural productions and the phenomena of 
 earth, sea, and sky are always sensible, and made with a view to practical results. Those 
 portions of the Narrative which refer to California and Australia are replete with vivid 
 sketches ; and indeed the whole work abounds with living and picturesque descriptions of 
 men, manners, and localities." — Globe 
 
 1
 
 VOYAGES AND TRAVELS. 13 
 
 LAKE NGAMI; OR EXPLORATIONS AND DIS- 
 
 COVERIES DURING FoUR YeARS' WaNDERINGS IN THE WiLDS OF 
 
 South-western Africa. By CHARLES JOHN ANDERSSON. 1 toI. 
 royal 8vo., with Map and upwards of 50 Rlustrations, representing Sport- 
 ing Adventures, Subjects of Natural History, &c. Second Edition, 30s. 
 handsomely bound. 
 
 "This narrative of African explorations and discoveries is one of the most important 
 geographical works that have lately appeared. It contains the account of two journeys 
 made between the years 1850 and 1854, in the first of which the countries of the Damaras 
 and the Ovambo, previously scarcely known in Europe, were exploredj and in the second 
 the newly-discovered Lake Ngami was reached by a route that had been deemed imprac- 
 tlcabler but \vhich proves to be the shortest and the best. The work contains much scientific 
 and accurate information as to the geology, the scenery, products, and resources of the 
 regions explored, with notices of the religion, manners, and customs of the native tribes. 
 The continual sporting adventures, and other remarkable occurrences, intermingled witk 
 the narrative of travel, make the book as interesting to read as a romance, as, indeed, a 
 good book of travels ought always to be. The illustrations by Wolf are admirably designed, 
 and most of them represent scenes as striking as any witnessed by Jules Gerard or Gordon 
 Gumming." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 "Mr. Andersson has made no hackneyed excursion up the Nile and back again, but a 
 painful journey, something between a pilgrimage and a wild-beast hunt, which might have 
 tried the patience of a fakir and the pluck of a gladiator. Such narratives are agreeable 
 changes in our day, and take hold of attention like the old travels. Mr. Andersson is a 
 good-natured and cheerful writer j and his book may be read with as much pleasure as 
 profit. For the details of a romantic and laborious journey, — for particulars about the 
 ostrich, the hippopotamus, the lion, and the hysena,— for curious illustrations of savage 
 "fe.— for that kind of interest which is awakened by dangers bravely, and by fatiguef stoutly 
 borne — readers would do well to consult the book itself. The printers and engravers have 
 done Mr. Andersson justice j and we think the reading public will go aud do likewise." — 
 AthencBum. 
 
 " This handsome book is one for everybody to read. As a record of travel, every page is 
 fascinating, while the naturalist and the geographer will be delighted with the new facts it 
 reveals. The sporting adventures of Mr. Andersson, too, are not less wonderful than those 
 of preceding African travellers. The plates are numerous and admirable." — The Press. 
 
 THE OXONIAN IN NORWAY; OR, NOTES OF 
 
 Excursions in that Country. By the Rev. F. METCALFE, M.A., 
 Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford. With Rlustrations, bound. 
 
 "'The Oxonian in Norway ' is replete with interest, is written in an animated style 
 and is .>ne of those books which cannot fail to be at the same time amusing and instructive 
 Mr. Metcalfe visited places where an Englishman was a rarity; and all who take an interest 
 in customs practised by various peoples, will welcome his book for the accounts of Nor- 
 wegian manuers and customs which have not been touched upon before. Numerous inte- 
 resting and exciting anecdotes, in connexion with the author's excursions in pursuit of 
 fishing and shooting, pervade throughout." — Chronicle. 
 
 " Mr. Metcalfe's book is as full of facts and interesting information as it can hold, and 
 is interlarded with racy anecdotes. Some of these are highly original aud entertaining. 
 More than this, it is a truly valuable work, containing a fund of information on the statistics 
 politics, auid religion of the countries visited." — Blackwood's Magazine.
 
 14 HURST AND BLACKETt's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 CHOW-CHOW; BEING SELECTIONS FROM A JOUR- 
 NAL KEPT IN INDIA, EGYPT, AND PALESTINE. By the VIS- 
 COUNTESS FALKLAND. 2 vols. 8vo. With Illustrations. 
 
 SPORTING ADVENTURES IN THE NEW WORLD ; 
 
 OR, DAYS AND NIGHTS OF MOOSE HUNTING IN THE PINE 
 FORESTS OF ACADIA. By CAMPBELL HARDY, Royal Artillery. 
 2 vols, post 8vo. with illustrations, 21s. bound. 
 "A spirited record of sporting adventures, very entertaining and well worthy the atten- 
 tion of all sportsmen who desire some fresher field than Europe can afford them. The 
 forests of Nova Scotia abound in moose, cariboo, bears, wolves, partridge, snipe and wild 
 duck, while the rivers are teeming with salmon and other fish, so that Lieutenant Hardy's 
 sport was of the best kind, and in the details which he has given ns there is much to 
 interest and amuse. He is a thorough sportsman, patient, skilful, and active, and relates 
 his adventures with the gusto of a man who enjoys the life." — The Press, 
 
 TRAVELS IN EUROPEAN TURKEY: THROUGH 
 
 Bosnia, Servia, Bulgaria, Macedonia, Roumelia, Albania, and 
 Epirus ; WITH A Visit TO Greece and the Ionian Isles, and a Home- 
 ward Tour through Hungary and the Sclavonian Provinces of 
 Austria on the Lower Danube. By EDMUND SPENCER, Esa. 
 Author of " Travels in Circassia," etc. Second and Cheaper Edition, in 
 2 vols. 8vo., with Illustrations, and a valuable Map of European Turkey 
 from the most recent Charts in the possession of the Austrian and Turkish 
 Governments, revised by the Author, 18s. 
 
 A TOUR OF INQUIRY THROUGH FRANCE AND 
 
 ITALY, Illustrating their Present Social, Political, and Religious 
 Condition. By EDMUND SPENCER, Esa., Author of "Travels in 
 European Turkey," " Circassia," &c. 2 vols, post Bvo. 21s. 
 
 ARCTIC MISCELLANIES, A SOUVENIR OF THE 
 
 LATE POLAR SEARCH. By the OFFICERS and SEAMEN of the 
 EXPEDITION. Dedicated by permission to the Lords of the 
 Admiralty. Second Edition. 1 vol., with Illustrations. 6s. 
 
 " This volume is not the least interesting or instructive among the records of the late 
 expedition in search of Sir John Franklin, commanded by Captain Austin." — Times. 
 
 A PILGRIMAGE INTO DAUPHINE. BY THE REV. 
 
 G. M. MUSGRAVE, A.M., Oxon. Author of •' A Ramble through Nor. 
 
 mandy," etc. 2 vols, with Illustrations. 21s. bound. 
 
 " It would be difficult to find a more agreeable and instructive travelling companion 
 Muin the author of these volumes. He has sufficient antiquarian, scientific, and artistic 
 knowledge to make him an enlightened observer and reporter, and a quickness of discern- 
 ment which detects the smallest point of interest."— G/oAe.
 
 VOYAGES AND TRAVELS. 15 
 
 RUSSIA AFTER THE WAR : TEE NARRATIVE OF 
 
 A Visit to that Country in 1856. By SELINA BUNBURY. 2 vols, 
 post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 '•We congratulate Miss Bunbury upon having written a very entertaining book— one 
 that has the merit of being readable from the beginning to the end. The author saw all 
 that she could, and has described with much vivacity all she saw. Her book is full of 
 pleasant pictures, commencing with St. Petersburg and its lions, and ending with the 
 coronation. It will find numerous readers." — Daily News. 
 
 " Miss Bunbury's vivacious sketches are not only piquant with meaning as to the state 
 of society in Russia, but have all the charm and freshness of first impressions on an active, 
 thoughtful, and observing mind. We can cordially recommend the work, as presenting a 
 very entertaining and varied panorama of the route taken by this intelligent lady, and, 
 moreover, as conveying the most recent information with regard to the present state and 
 condition of the more important parts of the Czar's vast territories." — Morning Post. 
 
 A SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE; INCLUD- 
 
 ING Sketches in Sweden, Norway, Finland, the Aland Islands, 
 Gothland, etc. By SELINA BUNBURY. 2 vols, post Svo., 21s. 
 
 '•All readers of the works of lady-travellers will be glad to know that they are favoured 
 again by Miss Bunbury with an account of her experience in Northern Europe, including 
 much of the seat of the late war — Finland, for example, and the Aland Isles. The book 
 is a very welcome contribution to the reading of the season." — Examiner. 
 
 "Avery lively and agreeable book of travels, full of sketches of national character and 
 descriptions of scenery given in a pleasing and entertaining style. To all who wish for a 
 gay and varied panorama of northern life and scenery, and for a work full of information and 
 entertainment, we recommend these volumes as among the most lively and generally attrac 
 tive travels that have lately appeared." — Sun. 
 
 THE WABASH: OR, ADVENTURES OF AN ENG- 
 
 LISH GENTLEMAN'S FAMILY IN THE INTERIOR OF AMERICA. 
 By J. R. BESTE, Esa. 2 vols, post Svo. 21s. 
 
 •' Mr. Beste's book is interesting. In literary merit it is above the majority of books of 
 travel. It deserves consultation from all who may wish to receive a candid, sensible, an 
 fair account of the author's experience." — Athenceum. 
 
 AUSTRALIA AS IT IS: ITS SETTLEMENTS, FARMS, 
 
 AND GOLD FIELDS. By F. LANCELOT, Mineralogical Sur- 
 veyor IN THE Australian Colonies. Second Edition. 2 vols. 12s. 
 
 " This is an unadorned account of the actual condition in which these colonies are found, 
 by a professional surveyor and mineralogist, who goes over the ground with a careful glance 
 and a remarkable aptitude for seizing on the practical portions of the subject. On the 
 climate, the vegetation, and the agricultural resources of the country, he is copious in the 
 extreme, and to the intending emigrant an invaluable instructor. As a guide to the auriferous 
 regions, as well as the pastoral solitudes of Australia, the work is unsurpassed." — Globe. 
 
 A LADY'S VISIT TO THE GOLD DIGGINGS OF 
 
 AUSTRALIA. By MRS. CLACY. 1 vol. 6s. bound. 
 
 " The most pithy and entertaining of all the books that have been written on the gold 
 diggings." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 
 
 By MRS. CLACY. 2 vols, post Svo. 12s. bound. 
 
 •♦While affording amusement to the general reader, these 'Lights and Shadows ot 
 Australian Life,' are full of useful hints to intending emigrants." — Literary Gazette.
 
 16 HURST AND BLACKETt's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 THE CRESCENT AND THE CHOSS. BY ELIOT WAR- 
 
 BURTON. Thirteenth Edition. I vol., with 15 Illustrations, 6s. bound. 
 
 " Independently of its value as an original narrative, and its useful and Interesting 
 information, tliis work is remarkable for the colouring power and play of fancy with which 
 its descriptions are enlivened. Among its greatest and most lasting charms is its reverent 
 and serious spirit." — Qunrteriy Review. 
 
 " A book calculated to prove more practically useful was never penned than the 
 ' Crescent and the Cross' — a work which surpasses all others in its homage for the sublime 
 and its love for the beautiful in those famous regions consecrated to everlasting immor- 
 tality in the annals of the prophets — and which no other modern writer has ever depicted 
 with a pencil at once so reverent and picturesque." — Sun. 
 
 " In the mixture of story with anecdote, information and impression, it perhaps sur- 
 passes 'Eothen.' Innumerable passages of force, vivacity, or humour are to be found iu 
 this volume." — Spectator. 
 
 TRAVELS IN PERSIA, GEORGIA, AND KOOR- 
 
 DISTAN, WITH Sketches of the Cossacks and the Caucasus. By 
 Da. MORITZ WAGNER. 3 vols., post 8vo. 
 
 " We have here learning without pedantry, acute and close observation without the 
 tedium of uninteresting details, the reflections of a philosopher intermixed with the pleasant 
 stories and graphic sketches of an accomplished traveller." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 "A book which abounds in varied and useful information. We doubt whether anywhere 
 the reader can find a more trustworthy and satisfactory account of the Koords of Persia, or of 
 the Cossacks of the Caucasus, than in these interesting volumes." — Post. 
 
 FOREST LIFE IN CEYLON. BY W. KNIGHTON, M.A. 
 
 Second Edition, 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 " A very clever and amusing book, by one who has lived as a planter and journalist many 
 years in Ceylon. The work is filled with interesting accounts of the sports, resources, pro- 
 ductions, scenery, and traditions of the island. The sporting adventures are narrated in a 
 very spirited manner," — Standard. 
 
 "We have no recollection of a more interesting or instructive work on Ceylon and the 
 
 ingalese than that which Mr. Knighton has just given to the world. It displays a great deal of 
 
 acuteness and sagacity in its observation of men and manners, and contains a vast deal of 
 
 useftil information on topics, historical, political, and commercial, and has the charm of a 
 
 fluent and graphic style." — Morrdng Post. 
 
 TROPICAL SKETCHES; OR, REMINISCENCES OF 
 
 AN INDIAN JOURNALIST. BY W. KNIGHTON, M.A. 2 vols. 12s. 
 " When Mr. Knighton's pleasant volumes on Ceylon were published, we freely gave his 
 publication the praise v^hich it appears to have well deserved, since another edition has been, 
 calledfor. Amongst the writersof theday,weknowof none who are morefelicitousin hitting oflF 
 with an amusing accuracy, the characters he has met with, and his descriptive powers are first- 
 rate. Take his Sketches up and open where you will, every page teems with instruction, 
 combined with lively detail." — Sunday Times. 
 
 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST INDIES. BY CHARLES J 
 
 W. DAY,Esa. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 " It would be unjust to deny the vigour, brilliancy and varied interest of this work, the 
 alKindant stores of anecdote andincident, and the copious detail of local habits and peculiarities 
 in each island visited in succession." — Globe.
 
 VOYAGES AND TRAVELS. 17 
 
 A PERSONAL NARRATIVE OF. THE DISCOVERY 
 
 OF THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE with Numerous Incidents of Travel 
 and Adventure during nearly Five Years' Continuous Service in the Arctic 
 Regions while in Search of the Expedition under Sir John FrankKn. By 
 ALEX. ARMSTRONG, M.D., R.N., late Surgeon and Naturalist of H.M.S. 
 * Investigator.' 1 vol. With Map and Plate, 16s. 
 "This liook is sure to take a prominent position in every library in which works of 
 discovery and adventure are to be met with. It Is a record of the most memorable geo- 
 graphical discovery of the present age. It conies from one who has himself actively 
 participated in all the stirring incidents and exciting scenes it so ably describes, and thus 
 possesses that charm of freshness and interest no mere compiler can ever hope to obtain. 
 The stirring passages of L)r. Armstrong's narrative bear ample evidence of their having 
 been written hy an accomplished and highly-educated man, possessed of quick sensibili- 
 ties, cultivated powers, and a refined mind." — Daily News, 
 
 " Aa a full and authentic record, Dr. Armstrong's work will be one of the most 
 valuable of the Arctic narratives.'* — Literary Gazette. 
 
 THE WANDERER IN ARABIA. BY G. T. LOWTH, 
 
 Esa. 2 vols, post 8vo. with Illustrations. 21s. bound. 
 
 "An excellent book, pervaded by a healthy enthusiasm, novel and varied in its incidents 
 picturesque in its descriptions, and running over with human interest." — Sun. 
 
 "Mr. Lowth has shown himself in these volumes to be an intelligent traveller, a keen 
 observer of nature, and an accomplished artist. The general reader will find in his descrip- 
 tions of his wanderings in Arabia, and among the most interesting monuments of old 
 Christian lands, a great deal that cannot fail to interest and amuse him. — Post. 
 
 EIGHTEEN YEARS ON THE GOLD COAST OF 
 
 AFRICA; including an Account of the Native Tribes, and their 
 INTERCOURSE WITH EUROPEANS. Bv BRODIE CRUICKSHANK, IWPember 
 OF the Legislative Council, Cape Coast Castle. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 "This is one of the most interesting works that ever yet came into our hands. It 
 possesses the charm of introducing us to habits and manners of the human family of which 
 before we had no conception. Mrs. Beecher Stowe's work has, indeed, made us all familiar 
 with the degree of intelligence and the disposition of the transplanted African ; but it has 
 been reserved to Mr. Cruickshank to exhibit the children of Ham in their original state, and 
 to prove, as his work proves to demonstration, that, by the extension of a knowledge of the 
 Gospel, and by that only can the African be brought within the pale of civilization. ^We 
 anxiously desire to direct public attention to a work so valuable. An incidental episode in 
 the work is an affecting narrative of the death of the gifted Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E.L.) 
 written a few months after her marriage with Governor ftlaclean." — Standard. 
 
 THE HOLY PLACES : A NARRATIVE OF TWO 
 
 YEARS' RESIDENCE IN JERUSALEM AND PALESTINE. By 
 HANMER L. DUPUIS. With Notes on the Dispersed Canaanite 
 Tribes, by JOSEPH DUPUIS, late British Vice-Consul in Tripoli and 
 Tunis. 2 vols, with Illustrations, 21s. bound. 
 
 EIGHT YEARS IN PALESTINE, SYRIA, AND ASIA 
 
 MINOR. By F. A. NEALE, Esa., Late Attached to the Consular 
 Service in Syria. Second Edition, 2 vols, with Illustrations, 12s. 
 
 KHARTOUM AND THE NILES. BY GEORGE MELLY, 
 
 Esq,. Second Edition. 2 vols, with Maps and Illustrations, 12s. bound.
 
 18 HURST AND BLACKETT's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 RULE AND MISEULE OF THE ENGLISH IN 
 
 AMERICA. By the Author of " SAM SLICK." 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 " We conceive this work to be by far the most valuable and important Judge Haliburton 
 has ever written. While teeming with interest, moral and historical, to the general reader, 
 it equally constitutes a philosophical study for the politician and statesman. 1*"''"^^/^°"'''; 
 to let in a flood of light upon the actual origin, formation, and progress of the republic of 
 the United States."— iVawa/ and Military Gazette. 
 
 SAM SLICK'S NATURE AND HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 2 vols, post 8vo. 24s. bound. 
 " Since Sam Slick's first work he has written nothing so fresh, racy, and genuinely 
 humorous as this. Every line of it tells some way or other ; ^"^^^'•"^f^^^/' .^^"^/"f,^^^^^^ 
 jocosely, or wittily. Admiration at Sam's mature talents, and laughter at his droll iarns 
 constantly alternate, as with unhalting avidity we peruse these last volumes of his. Ihey 
 consist of 25 Chapters, each containing a tale, a sketch, or an adventure. In every one of 
 them, the Clockmaker proves himself the fastest time killer a-going."— 06seruer. 
 
 SAM SLICK'S WISE SAWS AND MODERN 
 
 INSTANCES ; or, What he Said, Did, or Invented. Second Edition. 
 
 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 " We do not fear to predict that these delightful volumes will be the most popular, as 
 beyond doubt, they are the best, of allJudge Haliburton's admirable works. The ' Wise 
 Saws and Modern Instances' evince powers of imagination and expression far beyond what 
 even his former publications could lead any one to ascribe to the author. We have, it is true 
 long been familiar with his quaint humour and racy narrative, but the volumes before us 
 take a loftier range, and are so rich in fun and good sense, that to offer an extract as a 
 sample would be an injustice to author and reader. It is one of the pleasantest books we 
 ever read, and we earnestly recommend it."— Standard. 
 
 "The humour of Sam Slick is inexhaustible. He is ever and everywhere a welcome 
 visitor • smiles greet his approach, and wit and wisdom hang upon his tongue. The present 
 is altogether a most edifying production, remarkable alike for its racy humour, its sound 
 philosophy, the felicity of its illustrations, and the delicacy of its satire. We promise our 
 readers a great treat from the perusal of these 'Wise Saws and Modern Instances which 
 contain a world of practical wisdom, and a treasury of the richest fun."-Jlformng Post. 
 
 THE AMERICANS AT HOME; OR, BYEWAYS 
 
 BACKWOODS, AND PRAIRIES. Edited by the Author of "SAM 
 SLICK." 3 vols, post 8vo. 31s. 6d. 
 •• In the picturesque delineation of character, and the felicitous portraiture of national 
 features, no writer of the present day equals Judge Haliburton. ' The Americans at Home 
 will not be less popular than any of his previous works."— Pos^ 
 
 TRAITS OF AMERICAN HUMOUR. EDITED BY 
 
 the Author of ''SAM SLICK." 3 vols, post 8vo. 31s. 6d. 
 
 "No man has done more than the facetious Judge Haliburton, through the mouth of 
 the inimitable ' Sam,' to make the old parent country recognize and appreciate her queer 
 transatlantic progeny. His present collection of comic stories and laughable traits 18 a 
 budget of fun full of rich specimens of American humour."— G/oie.
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 19 
 
 PEN AND PENCIL PICTUEES. BY THOMAS 
 
 HOOD. Second Edition, Revised, with Additions. 1 vol. with numerous 
 Illustrations, by the Author, 10s. 6d. bound. 
 
 r,. f" ^*"'7il' ^^^^ «^^° t'^'s book announced without having a wish to welcome it. By his 
 poetry and his prose, Thomas Hood the Second distinctly announces himself to be his 
 
 !vl iVh l'°''" ?.'^ '""''*' ^^' ^ "°*^ ^^""^ ^"^ *h"« ^'•°'n the old household lullabies to 
 7nZ: ."''^^'''1 '■"'^^'^- ^°™^ °^ ^'^ thoughts have the true family cast. But his 
 o?vn ''°t;^''^o"y the song of a mocking-bird-his sentiment can flow in channels of his 
 
 tT.^Vh his speculations and his stories have a touch, taste, and flavour which indicate 
 
 vid. J»rr' "°°V.^f '•'"■'" "''" "^y "P"" ^"'^ "^^ into one of those original and indi- 
 v^ual authors who brighten the times in which they write, and gladden the hearts of those 
 among whom their lot is cast."— Athenceum. 
 
 ''We are happy to find that the delightful volume. 'Pen and Pencil Pictures,' has 
 Ifr, k"* T°" ^'^'"°"' ^'"^ *^^t the reception of the younger Thomas Hood, by the 
 public, has been worthy of the name he bears. The work is considerably augmented by 
 passages of increased maturity and vigour, such as will contribute still furtlier to its 
 popularity among the reading classes of the public."- LiYerar^ Gazette. 
 
 THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF MARY RUSSELL 
 
 MITFORD. Author of" Our Village," " Atherton," &c. 2 vols, post 8vo. 
 with Portrait of the Author and other Illustrations. 21s. ' 
 
 n,n J' ^^'' 77'""^.^"'^ ^^>«« Mitford's dramas heartily to all by whom they are unknown, A 
 more gracefu addition could not be made to any collection of dramatic ^vorks."-Blackwood. 
 Aliss Mitford has collected into one chaplet the laurels gathered in her prime of author- 
 ship. J.aid by the side of the volume of dramatic works of Joanna BaiUie, these 
 volumes suffer no disparagement. This is high praise, and it is well deserved."-^^A^««,^,„. 
 
 SONGS OF THE CAVALIERS AND ROUNDHEADS 
 
 JACOBITE BALLADS, &c. By G. W. THORNBURY. 1 vol. with 
 numerous Illustrations by H. S. Marks. 10s. 6d. elegantly bound. 
 
 •' Mr Thornbury has produced a volume of songs and ballads worthy to rank* with 
 Macaulay's or Aytouii's Lays."— Chronicle. 
 
 Athe'nlum^ '''''° ^"^^ picture, life, and costnme in song will here find what they love."— 
 
 «,„ "Ji^'^pu'"""^ '''"' '^''^ ^^'- Thornbury's literary reputation higher than it has yet 
 mounted. The vigour of his muse asserts itself in every niie."-Literart, Gazette 
 
 rhe poems show great power, and profound thought and feeling. But, more than all 
 they display imagination. They glow with all the fire of poetry."-^.r;,reA-s. 
 
 THE MONARCHS OF THE MAIN; OR, ADVEN- 
 
 JURES OF THE BUCCANEERS. By G. W. THORNBURY. 3 vols. 15s. 
 
 " An unwritten page of the world's history is not to be met with every day. The author 
 Of these volumes has discovered one, and has supplied the deficiency. The deeds of alter 
 nate violence and heroism of the wild adventurers, who soon after the discovery of America 
 started forth in search of plunder, and sometimes of territorial conquest-now sweeping the' 
 main with their piratical vessels-now surprising and sacking some rich and flourishing 
 town-now fortifying themselves in some strong island-hold, where they could bid defiance 
 to a world in arms against them— form the subject of a narrative rich in variety of incident 
 and replete with striking exhibitions of life and character. To the lover of maritime ad- 
 
 ^!"*u""!u *^ ^""^^^ °^" ^ ^""'^ °^ infinite amusement, doubly attractive from the novelty 
 of the theme."— JoArt Bull. ' 
 
 DARIEN; OR, THE MERCHANT PRINCE. BY ELIOT 
 
 ^ AYARBURTON. Second Edition. 3 vols, post 8vo. 
 
 m„JTi-^ scheme for the colonization of Darien by Scotchmen, and the opening of a corn- 
 Ton o?thi" storri-'h ^"-'^ "n' '''''' '"°'' ^^^ Isthmus of Panama, furnishes ^the founda: 
 he • Cres en «?;. h r " '-V T^^^^^ '^"''^"^ °^ the high reputation which the author of 
 ne descent and the Cross' had already made for himself."— /oAn Bull.
 
 20 HURST AND BLACKETT's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 FAMILY ROMANCE; OR, DOMESTIC ANNALS OF 
 
 THE ARISTOCRACY. BY SIR BERNARD BURKE, Ulster King of 
 Arms. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 Anions the mativ other interesting legends and romantic family histories com- 
 prised in these volumes, will be found the following:— The wonderful narrative 
 of Maria Stella, Lady Newborough, who claimed on such strong evidence to be 
 a Princess of the House of Orleans, and disputed the identity of Loms Philippe-- 
 The story of the humble marriage of the beautiful Countess of Strathmore, and 
 the sufferings and fate of her only child-The Leaders of Fashion, from Graraont 
 to D'Orsav— The rise of the celebrated Baron Ward, now Prime Minister at 
 Parma— The curious claim to the Earldom of Crawford— The Strange Vicissitudes 
 of our Great Families, replete with the most romantic details— The story of the 
 Kirkpatricks of Closeburn (the ancestors of the French Empress), and the re- 
 markable tradition associated with them— The Legend of the Lambtons— The 
 verification in our own time of the famous prediction as to the Earls ot Mar- 
 Lady Ogilvy's escape— The Beresford and Wynyard ghost stories correctly told— 
 &c. &c. 
 
 " It were impossible to praise too highly as a work of amusement these two most in- 
 teresting volumes, whether we should have regard to its excellent plan or its not less ex- 
 cellent execution. The volumes are just what ought to be found on every drawmg-room table. 
 Here you have nearly fifty captivating romances with the pith of all their interest preserved 
 in undiminished poignancy, and any one may be read in half an hour. It is not the least of 
 their merits that the romances are founded on fact-or what, at least, has been handed down 
 for truth by long tradition-and the romance of reality far exceeds the romance of faction. 
 Each story is told in the clear, unaffected style with which the author's former xvorks 
 have made the public familiar, while they afford evidence of the value, even to a work of 
 amusement, of that historical and genealogical learning that may justly be expected of the 
 author of ' The Teerage."'— Standard. 
 
 " The very reading for sea-side or fire-side in our hours of idleness."— Athsnaum, 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE FORUM; OR, NARRA- 
 TIVES SCENES, AND ANECDOTES FROM COURTS OF JUSTICE. 
 SECOND SERIES. BY PETER BURKE, Esa., of the Inner Temple, 
 Barrister-at-Law. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 PRINCIPAL CONTENTS :— Lord Crichton's Revenge— The Great Douglas 
 Cause-Lord and Lady Kinnaird— Marie Delorme and Her Husband— The 
 Spectral Treasure-Murders in Inns of Court-Matthieson the Forger-Trials 
 that established the Illegality of Slavery-The Lover Highway man-The 
 Accusing Spirit-The Attorney- General of the Reign of Terror-Eccentric 
 Occurrences in the Law-Adventuresses of Pretended Rank-The Courier of 
 Lyons-General Sarrazin's Bigamy— The Elstree Murder— Count Bocarme and 
 his wife — Professor Webster, &c. 
 
 " We have no hesitation in recommending this, as one of the most interesting works 
 that have been lately given to the pyibWc."— Morning Chronicle. 
 
 ♦• The favour with which the first series of this publication was received, has induced 
 Mr Burke to extend his researches, which he has done with great judgment. The incidents 
 forming the subject of the second series are as extraordinary in every respect, as those which 
 obtained so high a meed of celebrity for the first. Some of the tales could scarcely be believed 
 to be foun ied in fact, or to be records of events that have startled the world, were there not 
 the incontestable evidence which Mr. Burke has established to prove that they hay ^ 
 actually happened."— itfessew^er. x j 
 
 it 
 
 d\
 
 WORKS OF FICTION. 
 
 21 
 
 NOTHING NEW. BY THE AUTHOR OF "JOHN 
 
 HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 2 vols. 21s. 
 
 JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN. NEW AND 
 
 Cheaper Edition. 1 vol. 10s. 6d. bound. 
 "This is a very good and a very interesting novel. It is desiened to trace the career 
 
 hn!^ .VP?;\°°H h" .T °' " P^'-f-^t "^a"-a Chriftiau gentleman, and ifabou .ds in inciden 
 both well and highly wrought. Throughout it is conceived in a high spirit and written 
 
 ruEL?.''-/i:;Se ''"" '''" '"^ '''""'' ^^°^'^' ''' '^'"'^' «f '*^ 'deserved'.;" ucTiS 
 
 8UCcesI'''j"ohn Halifl'r^hl 1^'^'°^ ?h*^'' interesting work will doubtless meet with great 
 success John Halifax, the hero of this most beautiful story, is no ordinary hero and this 
 his history IS no ordinary book. It is a full-length portrait of a true gentlem ,n one of 
 nature's own nobil.ty. It is also the history of a home, and a thorouS Eng"isS one 
 The work abounds in incident, and many of the separate scenes are full of gi^ph ic powe; 
 
 "'John Halifax' is one of the noblest stories among modern works of fiction Th,. 
 interest is enthralling, the characters admirably sustained, fnd ?he moTalexcellent ''->rT^^^^ 
 
 EY MRS. GORE 
 
 THE 
 TWO ARISTOCHACIES. 
 
 3 vols. 
 
 A LIFE'S LESSONS. 3 vols. 
 
 "•A Life's Lessons' is told in Mrs. 
 Gore's best style. She showers wit, 
 grace, and learning through the pages 
 with her usual felicity."— IJatVi/ News. 
 
 BY MRS. TROLLOPE. 
 
 FASHIONABLE LIFE ; 
 
 Or, PARIS AND LONDON. 3 vols. 
 
 "The book has among its merits the 
 invaluable one of being thoroughly read- 
 able." — Examiner, 
 
 GERTRUDE; 
 
 Or, family pride. 3 vols. 
 " The publication of this work will add 
 to Mrs. Trollope's high reputation as a 
 novelist."— Pos^ 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF MARGARET MAITLAND. 
 
 LILLIESLEAP. 
 
 Being the Concluding Series op 
 "Passages in the Life of Mrs. Mar- 
 garet Maitland." 
 
 Cheaper Edition, 1 vol. 6s. 
 
 "The concluding series of passages in 
 the 'Life of Mrs. Margaret Maitland' is, 
 to our thinking, superior to the begin- 
 ning ; and this we take to be about the 
 most satisfactory compliment we can pay 
 the authoress. There is a vein of simple 
 good sense and pious feeling running 
 throughout, for which no reader can fail 
 to be the better." — Athenceum. 
 
 '" Lilliesleaf ' is a sequel to the charm- 
 ing ' Passages in the Life of Mrs. Margaret 
 Maitland,' told also by herself in her own 
 quaint way. and full of the same touching 
 grace whicii won the hearts of so many 
 people, young and old. It is to be said 
 but rarely of a sequel that it possesses so 
 much beauty, and so much sustained 
 interest, as the tale of " Lilliesleaf."— 
 Examiner. 
 
 THE DAYS OP MY LIFE. 
 
 an autobiography. 3 vols. 
 
 " The author writes with her usual fine 
 capacity for the picturesque, and her in- 
 variable good sense, good feeling, and 
 good taste. No part of the narrative is 
 uninteresting."— AthencBum. 
 
 "This story is most eloquently written 
 and is extremely attractive."— Press. 
 
 MAGDALEN HEPBURN; 
 
 a STORY OF THE SCOTTISH REFORMATION. 
 
 3 vols. 
 "A well prepared and carefully exe- 
 cuted picture of the society and state of 
 manners in Scotland at the dawn of the 
 Reformation." — AthencBum. 
 
 HARRY MUIR. 
 
 Second Edition. 3 vols. 
 
 ADAM GRAEME, 
 OF MOSSGRAY. 3 vols.
 
 22 
 
 WORKS OF FICTION. 
 
 A WOMAN'S STORY. 
 
 By Mrs. S. C. Hall. 3 vols. 
 
 CUTHBERT ST. ELME, M.P. ; 
 
 Or, passages IN THE LIFE OF 
 A POLITICIAN. 3 vols. 
 
 THE ROSE OF ASHURST. 
 
 By the Author of " Emilia Wyndham," 
 3 vols. 
 
 " This story inevitably pleases, because 
 a clever and right-minded woman seems 
 to have really put her heart into the 
 telling of it. An air of enjoyment in the 
 writing finds its way into the reading." — 
 Excnniner, 
 
 MARGUERITE'S LEGACY. 
 
 By Mrs. T. F. Steward. 3 vols. 
 
 " Rarely have we met with a more 
 interesting book than this. The story is 
 of a most thrilling description. The au- 
 thoress writes with much vigour, and from 
 the faithful delineation of her characters, 
 the admirable selection of the incidents, 
 and the graphic description of scenes and 
 events, the reader is enchanted with the 
 work throughout." — Chronicle. 
 
 GOOD IN EVERYTHING. 
 
 By Mrs. Foot. 3 vols. 
 
 " There is both talent and power in this 
 Qovel. Mrs. Foot has demonstrated that 
 she is capable of weaving a plot of the 
 most absorbing interest." — Messenger. 
 
 THE SECOND WIFE. 
 
 3 vols. 
 
 " This book is sure of a favourable re- 
 ception. The plot of the story is carefully 
 constructed and well sustained. The 
 sketches of fashionable life are all excel- 
 lent, showing intimate knowledge of 
 society and keen perception." — Press. 
 
 ALCAZAR. 
 
 By J. R. Bestk, Esq., Author of" Mo- 
 u£R.v Society in IIomk, &c. 3 vols. 
 
 "There are novelty of scenery and sub- 
 ject in ' Alcazar,' with plenty of variety 
 and adventure." — Spectator. 
 
 EDGAR BARDON. 
 
 By W. Knighton, M.A. 3 vols. 
 
 ** The story is in every way worthy of the 
 author's reputation. It is full of exciting 
 incidents, romantic situations, and 
 graphic descriptions." — Post. 
 
 DARK AND FAIR. 
 
 By the Author of " Rockingham." 3 v. 
 
 " The author of ' Rockingham ' has sur- 
 passed himself in ' Dark and Fair.' The 
 characters are distinctly drawn. The 
 story is simple and spiritedly told. The 
 dialogue is smart, natural, full of charactei'. 
 The women are sketched with a decision 
 and delicacy that make them live before 
 you. In short. 'Dark and Fair' takes its 
 place among the cleverest novels of the 
 season, and desertes to be popular. It is 
 tlie cream of light literature, graceful, 
 brilliant, and continuously interesting." — 
 Globe. 
 
 ROSA GREY. 
 
 By the Author of " Annk Dysart. 3 v. 
 
 "The characters are well delineated, 
 the story is lucidly told, and the conver- 
 sations are spirited, and impressed with 
 the individuality of the speakers. Alto- 
 gether the work is a success." — Daily 
 News. 
 
 ISABEL ; 
 
 THE YOUNG WIFE, AND THE OLD 
 LOVE. 
 
 By J C. Jkaffreson, Author of " Crbwb 
 Rise." 3 vols. 
 
 "A clever picture of modern life, written 
 by a man who has seen the world. ' Isa- 
 bel ' is a fresh, healthy, entertaining 
 book." — Leader. 
 
 WILDFLOWER. 
 
 By the Author of "The House op ETl- 
 more." 3 vols. 
 
 "One of the best novels it has lately 
 been our fortune to meet with The plot 
 is ingenious and novel, and the characters 
 are sketched with a masterly hand." — 
 
 f^yfiSS 
 
 THE GENERAL'S 
 DAUGHTER. 
 
 By Capt. Brook J. Knight. 3 vols. 
 
 " A lively, dashing tale, with broadly- 
 marked characters, and more than the 
 average number of startling incidents." — 
 Lit, Gag. 
 
 MARRIED FOR LOVE. 
 
 By Author of " Cousin Geoffrey." 3 v. 
 
 "* Married for Love' is as full of lively 
 sketches, smart writing, and strongly- 
 drawn character as ' Cousin Geoffrey,' and 
 the story is of a more exciting and moving 
 nature." — Globe. 
 
 THE YOUNG LORD. 
 
 By the Author of " The Discipline of 
 Life," &c. 2 vols. 
 " This new novel by Lady Emily Pon- 
 sonby is interesting as a story, and stil| 
 more to be commended for the prolitabU 
 lessons it inculcates." — Lit. Gaz.
 
 
 11-92
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 004244585