MM m , - - . ■ * OF THE UNIVERSITY Of ILLINOIS ■■■ e '?* ' % »*% it«D ##•> . ^ ^_ ;.-i Wi rv««« 2* M ^a^L_ «*J» ~ # ^^ ^v '" >4*s, I *•* « &<+'- . Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/margaretherbride01stre MARGARET AND HE'E BRIDESMAIDS. BY THE AUTHOR OF "WOMAN'S DEVOTION." "Queen Rose of the Rosebud garden of girls."— Tenhtson. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 13, GREAT MARLEOROUGH S'flREET. 1856. vM J I DEDICATE THIS TALE TO MARGARET, MY SISTER, FEELING SURE, THAT THE SEVEN OTHEB SISTEBS WHO EQUALLY BELONG TO US BOTH, WILL APPLAUD MY SELECTION, AND APPROVE OF MY BOOK, IF ONLY FOB HER SWEET SAKE. MARGARET AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. CHAPTER I. In a small room, furnished so as to indicate its purport — a study — sat four girls. One placed rather apart from the others, occupied herself in some fancy-work, denoting by this, as well as by her age and appearance, that she was no longer a school-girl \ neither could she be mistaken for a governess. Her rich dress and patrician air, rather pointed her out as a parlour-boarder among those who were diligently occupied in painting and drawing. VOL. I. b Z MARGARET A large, fair, indolent-looking girl was employed in copying the picture of a chubby, smiling baby, while her neighbour, a dark- haired, bright-looking picture of a regular school-girl, strove in vain to impart a beautiful curl to the moustache of a knight. Her pencil was obstinate, and evidently possessed of a common-place mind, for nothing could in- duce it, guided by fingers ever so willing, to perform such " a love of a moustache," as the original from which it was copying. In somewhat scornful distance from these two, sat a girl of eighteen, painting flowers. Now and then they tittered and laughed to- gether in a subdued tone, as if indulging in some jest at the expense of the flower-painter, who, erect and disdainful, showed no other symptom of annoyance, than a slight dilating of her nostril, and a curl of the lip, that ap- proached a sneer too nearly not to mar her Saxon beauty. The graceful worker by the fire would raise AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 6 her serene pure eyes to the school-girl scoffers, now and then when they ventured a thought too far for politeness, and they would subdue their voices, as if in answer to the appeal. Through the crevices of large folding doors, came the hum and murmur of a busy school, which opening now, filled the smaller room with sound, until the new comer shut the door. A little, slight, childish thing, with thick rich curls in high confusion all over her head ; she proceeded to pour a quantity of counters, or good marks, into a little drawer in a bureau. " Ah ! Lotty," said the worker, " have you really gained all those ?" "Where is Margaret?" answered Lotty, quickly, and looking from one to the other, with large dark eyes of extraordinary in- telligence and beauty. " She is here," said a soft voice, at the small door of the apartment. They all exclaimed in various keys and B 2 4 MARGARET phrases; but Margaret's face told a tale that hushed them. They had parted from her the evening before, a gay school-girl, as thoughtless and merry as themselves. But some extraordinary change had taken place. Margaret was blushing, confused, her eyes veiled, her voice tremulous as she said, in answer to their queries as to what had de- layed her so long — " I have been engaged, I mean I am en- gaged ; I have only come for a few moments, I am going — that is, I wished to tell you myself, I am going to be married !" " Law ! my dear !" exclaimed Florence, the moustache attempter. " How nice !" drawled Caroline, the baby delineator. " God bless my Margaret !" said Millicent, the worker. " How very strange 1" murmured the scornful Augusta. AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. O " No !" came from the little compressed angry lips of Lotty. " And mamma/' continued the blushing bride elect, " permits me to come and ask you, I mean she would be glad — and you know that I shall be so also ; oh ! so happy, so pleased, if you will all be my bridesmaids." " I shall be delighted, my love," cried Florence. " How very nice !" exclaimed Caroline with alacrity. yS " With heartfelt pleasure, sweet Meg/' whispered Millicent. / "If it is soon," said Augusta sententiously, " I shall be happy to oblige you/' A most strenuous and indignant " Never !" burst from the lips of the little Lotty, as she fled from the room. Then they all left their several occupations, and in utter defiance of school hours, and manners, they crowded round the blushing Margaret. 6 MARGARET She had taken shelter at this important era of her life in the loving arms of Milly, her eyes glancing np but once, as the little, im- petuous Lotty left the room ; then, the irre- pressible smile of a new gladness born in a tine and sensitive heart, broke in dimples round her mouth, telling that tale the eyes hoped to conceal. " What shall you be married in, dear ?" said Caroline. " And how will the bridesmaids be dressed?" asked Florence, anxiously. " Shall you be married in church, or by special licence in the drawing room ? the latter is so nice, and no trouble," said Caroline. " Don't have a bonnet, if you love me, but be covered with a veil from head to foot/' cried Florence. " And also other flowers are worn in the bridal wreath now, besides orange blossom, which, I think a blessing." "A blessing on my Margaret," whispered Milly's gentle voice. AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 7 " But, my dear, who is the happy man ?" said Augusta. " And may I beg you to be early in naming the day, otherwise I know not if I can officiate as bridesmaid." " Pray, why not ?" asked Florence, mock- ingly. " I may be a bride myself," answered Augusta, haughtily. " My marriage is likely to take place within a few months/' " To whom, I wonder !" exclaimed the two girls sarcastically. " Is it the old postman, or the policeman round the corner ?" "For shame!" retorted Augusta; "you judge of me by yourselves ; a pair of hoyden school-girls, who cannot see when a gentleman shows his preference by the delicate attentions of a gentleman. I allude to Sir Harold Leigh." " Who ?" said Margaret, raising herself from Millicent's arms ; " ah no, Augusta !" " Wherefore not, my dear, do you think no one has a lover but yourself?" Margaret placed her hand on Augusta's mouth. 8 MARGARET " Hush !" she said, " he is here, he is with mamma, he is my Harold, I am his Margaret." And at this avowal the fair face grew crim- son with blushes, and was fain to hide itself in Milly's redundant curls. Augusta tried to laugh off her mistake with ill-concealed dismay, but the other girls were too happy in the prospects of a wedding and all its fun, to laugh at her as unmercifully as she deserved, so that she soon recovered her usual composure and assurance. Besides, they all loved Margaret so well, her happiness absorbed all other feelings. Caroline loved her, because she was so un- selfish and generous, virtues in which she did not shine herself. Florence because Margaret was so simple and ingenuous, not able to say what she did not think (a quality quite out of Miss Florence's way, by the by). Augusta loved her, or rather liked her, be- cause Margaret was rich and well-born, and AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 9 freely imparted the advantages of the first quality to those who required them. Millicent, because she saw in Margaret a pure and loving heart like her own, within the pious depths of which, none knew the strength and power that would come forth. Lotty loved her — but Lotty is a wilful little thing, and it is hardly possible to say whom she loved, or why she loved. One thing alone was certain ; when Lotty loved, it was no half measures — her heart and soul were alike in- volved. But the unusual commotion in the inner school-room had made itself known through the folding doors, and Miss Elton, the head governess, appeared. Millicent divulged the happy tidings, Mar- garet was kissed and congratulated, a holiday given on the spot to the whole school, upon her whispered request, and, after asking for Milli- cent and Lotty to remain the day and evening with her, Margaret departed. A strange, fluttering sensation filled her 10 MARGARET heart, as she passed through the garden, and heard the merry laughter and joyous glee of her schoolmates. She felt happy, but it was an awe-struck happiness, that made her think the world too small to contain such feelings, and only in the pure and lofty firmament of Heaven could she find space sufficient for the love and gratitude welling from her heart. It seemed to her as if a new sun, a fairer sky, a more brilliant world was placed before her ; and yet she had done nothing, had no claim to make for such gifts. Therefore they might fade ; to-morrow they might be gone — leaving behind that grey cloud of blight and disappointment, conse- quent upon such a flood of light and happiness. As she placed her hand upon her heart, to still its tumultuous beating, and that one dread feeling, " could all this be real ?" she heard a faint sob, which came from behind a tree. " My little Lotty," exclaimed Margaret, springing to her schoolfellow's side. AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 11 " Why do you wish to marry ?" murmured Lotty, turning her wet face from Margaret's kisses. " Because, because — " began Margaret. " Was not I your husband ?" interrupted Lotty, impetuously ; " and have not I always been your little fond, foolish husband ever since I came to school ?" " Yes, my Lotty, and so you shall always be my little school husband.' ' " Then why do you want another ? I have always been a very kind, good husband ; mended all your pens, done all your sums, run all your messages, and would have told fibs for you." " That last was quite unnecessary, you know, little Lotty—" " Don't joke with me. I cannot bear it, but who is he ? I don't mind your marrying one person that I know of, and if it is him I won't fret any more, for it is very fatiguing." Margaret could only whisper the name. 12 MARGARET Lotty exclaimed loudly. " Oh, hush, Lotty !" besought Margaret. " I thought that man was making love to Augusta." "And so did poor Augusta herself," said Margaret, her eyes drooping. " However," said Lotty brightening up, " I always told her the truth, that he really did not care for her one straw, but admired you more, and I was right." "Poor Augusta !" murmured Margaret, her new sun, bright world, and happy feelings be- ginning to fade. " Not at all," said Lotty ; " she made the most love, and besides he has shewn his good taste, though he is not the right man, mind, Margaret, so I never will give my consent. He is a good judge of a horse though ; Lucifer, the steeple-chaser, belongs to him ; I should like to ride that horse, Queen Meg." " Nonsense, Lotty !" " Why say ' nonsense/ Margaret ? I will AND HER BRIDESMAIDS, 13 try and reconcile myself to the marriage, if you will ask Sir Harold to let me ride Lucifer sometimes/' " He may consent, but I shall not, Lotty." " Supposing he were to throw me, which no horse ever did yet, Margaret, you won't care, you will be thinking of your lov — " " Hush, you naughty Lotty ; why should I love you less ?" " I might have guessed what was going to happen, if I had had the sense of a mouse, and then I could have warned you, Margaret." " Against what, Lotty ?" " Marrying Sir Harold Leigh. I know some one who loves you much better — " " Lotty, Lotty I" " And so this is the reason we have been asked so often to your house, this half year, and Sir Harold always there ; and thus it comes you like to talk of horses and dogs, and I, like a goose, listening to it all so un- suspiciously. I don't deserve to be Charlotte Beauvilliers." 14 MARGARET CHAPTER II. Margaret was the only child left to her parents out of many, and had been born in their old age as it were. Some of their children had married and left descendants, but the affection they had be- stowed alike on son and daughter, was now wholly concentrated on the blooming girl of eighteen. Not even his fine sturdy grandsons (all that remained to him of his first-born son) could rival, in old Sir Thomas's eyes, the shadow of his daughter's form ; while " Margaret, my Margaret, sweet Margaret," formed the pith of all Lady Montagu's conversation. AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 15 To lose nothing of her sweet company, they had for the last five years lived in Bath, where Margaret could have the advantage of masters and companions of her own age. They were so unselfish in their love, they would not tie her merry spirit down to their aged fire-side, but lovingly said to each other, "What have we now to live for, but to make our Margaret happy ?" In the merry companionship of her school- mates, the gentle, quiet home of her parents, Margaret had grown up, the simplest, most innocent-hearted girl, as she was almost the prettiest and best. She had but just expe- rienced her first sorrow, namely, that she was to leave school, and part with her girlhood's friends, unknowing if they might meet again, when she made that abrupt entry into the school-room, with the announcement that was almost as startling to her as to them. In their daily school walks, the girls were aware (as what girls are not) that they attracted much attention. 16 MARGARET Some were keenly alive to it, as Augusta, Florence, and Caroline ; others scarcely noticed it, as Margaret and Milliceut; again, little turbulent spirits like Lotty's, were indignant at such implied rudeness. Certainly, the little jealous school* husband had cause for being irate. No sooner did the school emerge from the house-door, all bon- neted and shawled, escorted by, and under, the strict surveillance of the English and French governesses, than the handsomest man in Bath came curvetting down the street on the most beautiful horse in the town. Slowly, at a funereal pace, went the well- trained steed, by the long two-and-two line ; the rider's eyes generally rivetted, as Lotty indignantly declared, on Margaret; as Augusta exultingly believed, on herself. The gaze (if she caught it) but deepened the bloom on Margaret's cheek ; but she was too much en- gaged to attend to it. This was her time for telling stories to the little girls, and at present AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 17 the tale was most alarmingly interesting, and was duly repeated at night by the one fa- voured little maiden, who heard it from the fountain's head, to the others, when supposed to be innocently sleeping. Sir Harold might have been satisfied had he been able to gain as much of Margaret's attention as he did of Augusta's. But after six weeks' gazing, he found he made no ad- vance, so he contrived an introduction to Sir Thomas and Lady Montagu. There he certainly was in the same room with the lovely face which had so rivetted his attention as to make him forget hunting, racing, and steeple -chasing, and all other sports so dear to his heart. But he did not make much way. In fact, being an experienced man of the world, having been courted, flattered, spoilt, and made much of; he could not understand the shy, sensitive heart, that belonged to the prettiest face he had ever seen. v OL. I. L IB MARGARET One evening, after devoting a whole hour to entertaining Margaret with stories of his horses and dogs, and seeing, with pleasure, how her shy eyes began furtively to glance up into his, with evident interest ; how they rested for full ten seconds on his face, giving him time to see how dark and soft they were, when he told of his favourite horse's love for him ; how the half smile was beginning to break into irrepressible dimples, and the rosy lips to give glimpses of the little w r hite teeth within, he was wholly unprepared for the un- restrained look of delight with which she sprang from this most interesting conversation to greet her school-fellows. They had been invited to tea that evening : and as the stately Augusta swam into the seat Margaret had so willingly vacated, he pished and pshawed himself into a vile humour, and determined to be revenged. So he devoted himself entirely to Augusta, and when he glanced round now and then, to see if the AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 19 lesson were taking effect, his state of mind was not improved, by discovering that nobody seemed to be caring in the least how he and Augusta were amusing themselves. Lotty, Milly, Carry, and Flo., were all in high glee, and Margaret the merriest among them ; but there was a glow on her cheek, and a light in her eyes, which made Harold fancy, that, without knowing it, she was happy in his evident attentions. Notwithstanding, she did not seem the least affected by his flirtation with Augusta. He overheard her telling them about his horse, and was sensible of such a pleasurable emotion thereat, that he did not heed Augusta in the very middle of a sentimental harangue, and her evident discomposure became appa- rent to Carry and Flo., much to the gratifi- cation of those two worthy young ladies. As he went away, Margaret raised her fawn's eyes, and said, in a low, shy voice, c 2 20 MARGARET " Will you ride that horse when you pass us again ?" "With great pleasure/' he answered, in nearly as low a voice ; but his heart bounded, and he was glad to rush out into the street, and then away into the fields, under the broad moonlight, to give some scope to his joy. " To think, after having passed unscathed through all the courts of Europe, that I should at last be caught by a simple school-girl. She is so fresh, so shy, so natural ; what soft, loving glances, she gives her father and mo- ther ; she must be mine ; I am too impatient to wait longer. Besides, if I do not provide myself with a decisive impediment, in the shape of a wife, Augusta Clare will marry me by force. Nevertheless, if I speak to Mar- garet, I know I shall undo the work of the last six weeks ; her shy nature will prompt her to reject me at once. I will call on Sir Thomas to-morrow, and state all my wishes and intentions ; and I will ask his consent to AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 21 visit them constantly, with the avowed inten- tion of making myself acceptable to his sweet daughter. I knew I was not mistaken the first time I saw her walking ; such a lovely figure, such a perfect walker, so light and elegant, yet so firm and dignified. I admired the walk for a whole week before I saw the face, and when she becomes frank and open with me, as she is with her father and mother, and when I am permitted to excite and join in the happy gladness of her spirit, how like a sunbeam she will prove. Ah ! how she will brighten up our dull, stately home, where my mother rules at present, with Prudence and Propriety, as I call my two sisters. And my mother, she must be pleased with her ! for who could resist sweet Margaret ? while Pru. and Pro. will learn to look upon her as a stray star, wandering there solely to enliven and shine upon them. I believe the dullness of home has hitherto alarmed me with regard to matrimony, devoutly as my mother has QO MARGARET wished for such an event. I shall certainly speak to Sir Thomas to-morrow. Her eyes are like brown velvet, and all her movements the perfection of lady-like grace. Sweet Mar- garet 1 I could never be unhappy with you." AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 23 CHAPTER III. Harold fulfilled his overnight intentions. Now it cannot be denied that Sir Thomas and Lady Montagu were more grieved than pleased at his communication, albeit that the matter was so flattering to their Margaret. w She is so young," pleaded the father. " She is our only one," murmured the mother. " We hoped to keep her always," said Sir Thomas. "We cannot expect to live much longer," sighed Lady Montagu. Harold was sensibly affected. Not with- 24 MARGARET standing a very good heart, he was unaccus- tomed to consult any other wishes than his own ; and he did not see why, because they were so alive to the merits of their Margaret, they should insist upon keeping such a charm- ing thing all to themselves. " I grant she is very young," said Harold ; " but I dare say it will be six months and more before she will permit me to be sufficiently intimate to begin to make love, much less tell her so. Though I have now seen her every day for six weeks, I have never even shaken hands with her, and she never voluntarily spoke to me until last night." "True, very true," said Sir Thomas; "our Margaret is very shy." " She is very timid, I know, in some things," said Lady Montagu. "All I wish to do now, is to gain your permission to try and win her affections. Knowing how my feelings were warming to- wards her, I could not visit at your house AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. SO without informing you of my hopes and in- tentions," said Harold. " Very honourable indeed, I must say," said Sir Thomas. " My dear Anne, Sir Ha- rold is a man of honour." " Indeed he is, and we ought to be grate- ful, I am sure," said Lady Montagu, looking just the contrary. " He comes of a very good family, Sir Thomas, I know, for your mother I remember very well, Sir Harold; she was lady-in-waiting to good Queen Charlotte, and amid all the state and reserve of that court, she ever bore the palm of the most dignified and discreet." Harold bowed at this praise of his mother, while he mentally said, " No wonder my mo- ther is so stiff and stately, and Leigh Court so dull and precise. If I succeed in gaining her affections, I do not see why you should not come and live near us," he continued aloud. "Dear, dear," said Lady Montagu, "you 26 MARGARET are too quick, you anticipate too much, Sir Harold. Margaret may not perhaps like you," continued she, brightening up. Harold smiled; certainly a smile of self- satisfied import ; nevertheless he replied, " Perhaps not." "Well, well," said Sir Thomas, "now let us drop the subject, it makes me nervous and fretful. But you are an honourable young man, Sir Harold, and we ought to be obliged to you, though we do not exactly feel so." " Then I may visit the house, and try to win Miss Montagu's heart, if I can ?" said Harold. " Yes, I suppose so. I suppose we must not stand in her light, we must let her judge for herself, poor pet ; but I hope you may think better of it. I truly hope you may see another face that you like better than our Margaret's." So Sir Harold took his leave, none the less anxious to obtain the dear Margaret from the difficulty there seemed to be about it. AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 27 " My dear Anne," said Sir Thomas, after their visitor had departed, " I will tell you what we will do. We must ask all Margaret's prettiest school-fellows here ; you must find out all the belles of Bath, and on the evenings that Sir Harold is here, we will surround him with such pretty faces, that he will not see our sunny Margaret, the light of our old age." " A very good idea, Sir Thomas, and I will also renew my acquaintance with Lady Kath- erine ; she may not perhaps like the connec- tion ; our Margaret may be too simple and natural for such a grand lady, and she may forbid the marriage. I have always heard that her son was very dutiful, and she, I know, carries duty, etiquette, and propriety to the extreme verge, and has always kept her chil- dren in full order." " It seems to me, Anne, that we are becom- ing two selfish, hypocritical people in our old age ; but if we lose our Margaret, I think our business in this w T orld is well nigh over." 28 MARGARET " I shall feel as if it were, I am sure," said Lady Montagu, her tears falling ; " neverthe- less, we will bear everything, so that sweet Meg is happy. We will hope that she loves her old father and mother too fondly to wish to leave them so soon. I will always ask that pretty Miss Clare here with her ; she seems greatly taken with Sir Harold, and is, in man- ners and appearance, much more fitted for a great lady than our Margaret." Sir Thomas and Lady Montagu were sim- ple-minded, good, kind people. They thought themselves very treacherous and hypocritical, inviting all the prettiest girls in the neigh- bourhood to meet the wolf that had come to steal their lamb, and yet it never occurred to them that they had a much surer way of keep- ing their Margaret than the means they now employed. They had but to say, or even do no more than imply, that they hoped, while their little span of life lasted, that she would remain with them, and the warm, sensitive AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 29 heart would have responded instantly. All the lovers in Christendom, were they hand- somer than Adonis, and more amiable and de- voted than the knights of old, could not have obtained entrance to Margaret's heart, with her parents' wishes to guard the door. But they had never allowed her to know how necessary she was to their happiness ; in their unselfish love, they had ever placed her little pleasures and wishes as completely se- parated from theirs ; yet, at the same time, were so anxious that she should enjoy them. Margaret, if she ever thought on the subject, might have imagined they considered her a grandchild rather than a daughter. Once or twice circumstances had so oc- curred as to make Margaret think, " How sorry mamma must be that I am so young, and that I was not born about the same time as my other sisters." She was so simple, modest, and humble, that it never entered her innocent mind she was the cynosure of any 30 MARGARET circle, and with such natures it is not difficult to believe, that when once they are aware of the fact, once they feel the value of their love to another, death alone can extinguish the feeling thus awakened, the grave only do away with these first impressions. It was so with Margaret. By degrees she became aware that she was an object of interest to another ; she, who thought it so good of everybody to love her ; so kind of her father to let her kneel by his chair, and play with his white curls ; so good of her mother to allow her to fly over the house on all sorts of messages. At first she confided to her school-husband that it would be very nice if Sir Harold was her brother, then he could call her Margaret, without saying that formal " Miss Montagu/' " And I suppose you would call him Ha- rold ?" said the little fiery school-husband. " Yes, of course," said Margaret ; cf Ha- rold, not Sir Harold; it sounds very nice, docs it net, Lotty ?" AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 31 " No. it sounds very forward and Augusta- isli of you, and I won't allow you to do it." " Oh no," said Margaret, " not for the world — how could you think I would do it?" So thus it came to pass, that the experienced man of the world gained his end, against the simple, unworldly-wise old couple ; and thus it came to pass, that Margaret uttered the memorable speech, half hidden by the school- room door ; and also thus it happened, Miss Augusta Clare had a little method in her mad- ness, when she promulgated the fact, that she intended to marry Sir Harold herself. She had met him quite as often as Margaret, according to old Sir Thomas's base arrange- ment, and she had talked to him a great deal more. For whereas Margaret was very shy, retiring and difficult of access, Augusta took an ell for every one of Sir Harold's inches, and made the most of them. 32 MARGARET CHAPTER IV. So Margaret accepted Sir Harold, and the wedding-day was fixed, she, all unknowing of the blank that now fell on her aged parents' existence, while they, as heretofore, studiously concealed from her anything but their warm interest in her happiness, and seemed to take such a pride and delight in her trousseau, car- riages, horses, and bridesmaids, that Margaret could only say to herself, " They will be so happy together, now they have no wild girl to trouble them ; and I hope my Harold and I may be like them when we grow old." Nothing could exceed the stately conde- AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 33 scension with which Lady Katherine Leigh received her intended daughter-in-law ; and the pale Pru. absolutely kissed the bright girl with fervour, while the meek, quiet Pro. became quite flushed and animated, on hearing they were to be bridesmaids. Although of an antique age compared to Margaret, being some years older even than their brother, Pru. and Pro. (whose real names were Charlotte and Georgina, in reve- rential memory of the Court, wherein Lady Katherine shone so conspicuously), were still considered young girls by their courtly mamma. They always walked behind her, like two model maids of honour, attendant on a des- potic sovereign ; they curtsied on leaving her gracious presence, they asked permission to take the air, and even to the colour of their dresses and ribbons, all was deferred to their mother. Pru. had once indulged in a little flight of emancipation, which led to the dis- VOL. I. D 34 MARGARET covery, that she had absolutely been seen speaking, upon several occasions, to the curate. Urged by incipient love, Pru. feebly chirped forth that " he was a very good young man." The shade of Queen Charlotte rose before the indignant mother, but history does not say how Pru. w T as brought to reason. Doubtless, the way was stringent, for the cure was ef- fectual ; Pru. and Pro. were never seen to speak voluntarily after that to any man under eighty years of age. Sir Harold was very generous. He pre- sented each bridesmaid with her dress com- plete, and a turquoise ring ; but Lotty was firm in her determination not to be one of these favoured mortals, which Florence and Caroline, with more candour than politeness, told her was a very good thing, as there would have been an odd bridesmaid; now, the numbers were even. " I don't care how odd I am," said Lotty, taking the matter literally. AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 35 Neither the policeman nor the postman having proposed, as Florence and Caroline maliciously hinted, Augusta was able to offi- ciate as bridesmaid. The two former were so far justified in their unlady-like remarks, that Augusta's cupidity, in the way of admiration, made her swallow anything from anybody that fed her vanity. She was a beautiful girl, very fair, with sunny hair flowing in thick curls over cheeks quite rivalling the peach in bloom. A fine, tall figure, rounded in proportion, with the utmost grace ; and a bewitching, sweet, taking manner, that would beguile a weak man of his heart at first sight. Her eyes were peculiarly beautiful, the lids so white and full ; the eyelashes almost black, and the orbs themselves of a clear blue. Sir Thomas and Lady Montagu might well have hoped, that a being so gifted by Nature, would prove more attractive than their simple, pretty Margaret. But a true man of the world will only give his heart into Nature's d 2 36 MARGARET keeping. He laughs, talks, sentimentalizes with beings like Augusta ; he places his heart in the keeping of a loving, simple nature like Margaret's. So the wedding-day came, and Lotty agreed she would take care of Sir Thomas while the others were at church. " He and I do not approve of the mar- riage," said Lotty, with dignity ; " though I allow Harold is not a bad fellow ; he has pro- mised me a son of Lucifer's, and he will be rising five about the time I leave school, which will be the thing just." "Did one ever hear such language!" said Flo. to Carry, as they arranged each other's dresses. Lady Montagu would fain have remained at home with her husband ; her heart felt ill at ease, and only her utter forgetfulness of self made her attempt the exertion. She could not but think of the three daughters she had already seen married under the hap- AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 37 piest auspices, and now they were no more Was this to be the fate of the youngest, most gifted, most beloved ? " God's will be done !" she whispered to herself many times ; and often she had to appeal to the same gracious help for strength to support this day, without the loved object of her unselfish affections perceiving on this, which ought to be the happiest day of her life, the sorrow they were suffering. Poor Sir Thomas shook with suppressed emotion as the gentle, fair girl knelt for his blessing, before proceeding to the church, while she felt — as what bride has not ? — that it was agony to leave her childhood's home for an untried affection, a new existence. " If papa would but say, ' Stay, my child,' I could not, would not, leave him," said she, to herself. But the good old man fondly kissed her, and exerting himself for her sake, that she might not see his grief and sorrow, he feebly made an attempt at cheerfulness, saying, 38 MARGARET " My darling will be Lady Leigh when I again see her." Lotty, with tearful eyes, did her best to cheer his spirits, as the fair vision, white as marble, passed from his sight. " Sir Harold loves her very ranch, no doubt," said she, " though no one can love her as we do, can they, Sir Thomas ?" " No ! no ! not as her fond old parents do." "And I, Sir Thomas, too !" said Lotty, with a little acrimony ; " but though Sir Harold is a very good fellow, I wish we had not let her marry so soon, because I know of a much better match for her." " My dear, what are you saying ?" said the old man, who was beginning to think Lotty 's mode of consolation none of the best. " I think if Margaret had waited until Basil Erie had come home, he would have asked her to marry him. I don't know much about love-matters, but I am almost sure, AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 39 when we were all staying with you last holi- days, Basil was falling into downright love Avith Margaret ; and you know what Basil is, such a fellow !" " My dear boy !" said Sir Thomas, " I believe, indeed, there are few like him." The old man, between grief, the tears that blinded his eyes, and Lotty's peculiar style of conversation, was becoming oblivious of the sex of his companion. Lotty flushed up, and then continued in a softer voice, " Basil is just as good a man as Millicent is a woman, they are a worthy brother and sister; and though I am very young, Sir Thomas, not more than fifteen, I have seen a great deal of life, and of men, and I never saw any one like Basil. I don't like men in general, excepting the Beauvilliers ; I think them stupid, egotistical fel — creatures I mean ; but if Margaret had waited to marry Basil, then she would have lived all her life close 40 MARGARET to you, and that would have been much better." "Very, very true, but I never heard that Basil wanted our Margaret," said poor Sir Thomas. " Well, he never did say so, more's the pity ; he might have guessed before he went abroad that every man who ever saw Margaret would want to marry her. I am sure I should." " And why did you not say so, my dear ? for if you had, then, perhaps, you would not have minded living with us." " No ! I should have liked it of all things ; but I should not have been good enough for Margaret ; only Basil is." "But when did he propose, my dear?" " He never did, Sir Thomas, and that's the worst of it, and I know he will be dreadfully unhappy when he hears Margaret is married. Perhaps he will kill himself, though I think he is too sensible for that. But I will tell AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 41 you how I know. I love Margaret better than any other woman in the world, I don't mind telling you, Sir Thomas." " She deserves it, my dear boy ! she de- serves every one's love," Lotty winced again, and again modulated her voice to a lady-like pitch. " So, loving Margaret as I did, I soon saw who loved her besides ; and I felt that my love was just a grain of sand to what Basil could give, and I dare say he would have told Margaret, but then she was a school-girl. Besides, you know what a bad character his father bears, and what a wretch Ladv Erls- court is, so I suppose he thought it wrong to take Margaret to such a house as that." " But they could have lived with us, my dear, and Basil is such a good young man," sighed Sir Thomas. " ' Good/ does not express what he is," re- turned Lotty j " but it is too late now ; here they are all coming back from church." 42 MARGARET " Well, God's will be done ! I hope we have acted for the best," said Sir Thomas. " We might have done better, I think," re- plied the sorry little comforter. " What will Anne say ? she is so fond of those two, Basil and Millicent; I doubt we have been too hasty, Margaret was too young, yes, too young to marry. I thought that, Anne. Anne, we were too hasty. Dear me, dear me !" And the poor old man sobbed aloud. " For goodness sake, don't do that," ex- claimed the alarmed Lotty, " they will think I have been beating you. And here is Lady Montagu being carried in as if she had fainted." Startled out of his grief, Sir Thomas hur- ried out to meet the poor mother, and being both utterly unable to control their feelings longer, they fell sobbing into each others' arms. Alarmed at this unwonted display, Marga- ret flew to them from her husband's arm. " Oh, mamma ! papa ! oh, mamma ! papa !" was all she could say at first. AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 43 " I will not leave you. I cannot go. My own dear father and mother, bid your Marga- ret stay ever with you." " Oh, hush, dear Meg," whispered Milly ; " remember the vows you have just pro- nounced." " But papa ! mamma ! my kind^ loving pa- rents. Can this grief be for me? is it my loss they mourn thus ? Oh, Milly, I must not, cannot leave them." " Remember, dearest, they may be overcome with the recollection of your sisters. See, Harold wonders at you. Let them grieve a little. Leave them to themselves, for none know what their loving hearts have suffered. " Lotty and Millicent led the afflicted parents into another room, while Harold drew Marga- ret aside, and whispered fond, endearing words to her, saying that now she was his, her word should be his law ; and if she wished to stay with her parents, she should ; she had only to name her wishes and he would consent. 44 MARGAKET Margaret raised the seldom-seen eyes to his face. In the one short glance he read the world of love she could bestow. The sensi- tive maiden heart opened to let the wife's de- votion enter, and Harold knew that the grave alone could extinguish the love expressed in that glance, Proud and elated, he continued, as he folded her in his arms, " God forbid, my sweet wife, that my first act as a husband should be to take you from your parents : go, settle with them what you like ; what pleases you, will do the same by me." But the constant habits of forbearance which they practised, shortly came to the aid of the fond father and mother. Margaret was permitted to think that a tide of old recollections had overcome them, though she could not avoid seeing the extent to which they mourned for her. It was agreed, that instead of going abroad, the bride and bridegroom should return in a short time to the old hall of her father, " Mon- AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 45 tague House," and in looking forward to this speedy reunion, they were enabled to bid their darling " God speed :" while she left them in some degree comforted, more than ail re- collecting the kind and loving way in which her Harold had come forward, when he might have resented her first conjugal act. In her heart of hearts she promised him her life's devotions. We must trace her through it, and in the meantime wonder, if, like Lotty, we shall say at the close of it, — " Margaret was very foolish not to wait for Basil. 5 " 46 Margaret [CHAPTER V. I think we ought to learn who " Basil" and " Millicent" are. On the borders of the New Forest in Hamp- shire, rose the stately towers of Lord Erlscourt's castle. The family were neither old nor particularly wealthy, so that the persent lord did not dis- dain the appointment of Ranger of the Forest. He had married, early in life, a very beautiful and amiable woman of high rank and some wealth. During her lifetime the family were much loved and respected, and the embar- rassed estates (left so by the present lord's AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 47 predecessor), under her judicious sway were becoming free and unencumbered. Unfor- tunately for her husband and the estates, still more for her children, she died from the effects of a low, lingering fever, that often hangs about a densely-wooded country. Either soured by her loss, or losing that restraint which her fine and noble character intuitively put upon one very much the reverse, Lord Erlscourt became a very different man. He grew careless and indifferent about his habits and appearance. He became mixed up with a number of very questionable characters, and report was rife with tales of his midnight doings ; when, instead of putting down the lawless poaching and glaring thefts of wood, he was described as head poacher and principal thief. He consummated the ruin of his character as a gentleman and an honourable man, by marrying a handsome but vulgar girl, niece to one of his under officers, whose former life could by no means bear an inspection. 48 MARGARET Elated by her unexpected rise in life, the new Lady Erlscourt added to other disagreeable qualities, so much vanity and overweening pride, as to disgust even those of her own grade. With the low vulgarity of a small mind, and the vindictiveness of a very base one, she poured upon the heads of her unfor- tunate step-children so much mean and petty persecution, that Basil, the' boy, ran away. He was then about ten years old, and his little heart beat and swelled with indignation at the treatment both he and his gentle sister had borne ; the bitter wrong caused him to reason and think with premature wisdom. " I am very strong for my age," said the little fellow to himself, " and I know the wood paths in every direction. I shall go to-night as far as the hollow oak, and in the morning I will strike up to the left, and if I run as well as walk, I shall be at Montague House by ten o'clock. I will tell Sir Thomas what we have to endure. I shall ask him to send for Millv. AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 49 I shall refuse ever to return to my father's house unless she is released ; then, if they will not let her come, I shall ask Sir Thomas to take me before a magistrate, and I will swear, swear solemnly by that great God who has made our own mother an angel in heaven, that we are starved, beaten, and ill treated, and Sir Thomas must write to grandpapa." Thus soliloquising, the little fellow ran with unabated energy and speed towards his in- tended resting-place. He felt no fear at pass- ing the long night in the dark woods. He remembered nothing but his little sister's cries of agony at her stepmother's harsh treatment, and when he reached the old oak tree, he knelt upon the rustling bed of leaves at the foot, and prayed the Lord God of Heaven to assist him in his designs, and whispered to himself, as he climbed up into his resting-place, " My dear, angel mother will watch me while I sleep." And he slept the sound sleep of the inno- cent ; nevertheless the important step he was vol. t. e 50 MARGARET about to take, seemed to move him in his sleep, for he awoke at the first faint streak of light that came stealing through the trees. Hastily descending (for he seemed to know intuitively that Lady Erlscourt would never let him escape, and that the knowledge of his flight would only make her the more determined to get him again into her power), he lost no time in pursuing his way. Every nerve braced by the fear of being captured ; every instinct startled by the danger, into forethought and judgment, with very few mistakes, the little fellow at last saw Montague House before him. Faint and exhausted, he made one last effort, and as he did so, he heard in the woods he had just left, the cracking of whips and shouting of men, which thrilled him with the knowledge that the pursuers were on his track. The large window of the breakfast room at Montague House was wide open, and as Basil approached, he saw it was full of people. " I am unable to say a word, I am so ill and AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 51 faint, and those people will be here ere I can tell all, and I shall be taken back. Oh ! mother, mother, why did you die and leave your poor children !" At this moment he saw, not ten yards from him, a little girl, who was gazing at him with unbounded amazement. Basil sprang forward, and grasped her dress. "Do you hear those people in the wood ?" he gasped breathlessly. " And that noise ? they are looking for me." " Why do you run from them ?" she an- swered. " Because they beat and ill-used me, and I have run this morning many miles to tell Sir Thomas Montagu ; but I am so tired and faint — they will be here before I can do so — will you hide me until they go ?" " Yes, yes," said the little girl, " come with me." They ran together down a gravel walk which led to a conservatory, from thence a narrow e 2 52 MARGARET staircase wound up to the highest story of the old-fashioned Elizabethan house. Holding his hand fast, she darted into a large sort of empty lumber-room, and bidding him lock himself in, said, " I shall get vou some milk." She ran down stairs again, locking the last door as weD as she could, and entered the large open window just as the cavalcade of horse- men appeared upon the lawn. There was no mistaking Sir Thomas Mon- tagu's utter ignorance as to any fugitive having been seen near his house : besides, it was al- most incredible that a boy of such tender age could have travelled so far without food or help. So that the party prepared to depart just as the little girl had collected her portion of breakfast, and was asking permission to eat it out of doors. This being granted, she but waited to see them fairly away, ere she tripped up first with a cup of milk. Her prisoner had not locked the door, he AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 53 was lying in a deep, exhausted faint on the floor. " Mamma ! mamma !" said the little fairy thing, as she flew down the house stairs ; " come with me, I want you." Her mother could not resist the earnest appeal. " Don't tell papa yet, pray don't. I pro- mised I would not, it is such a secret ! Dear mamma ! you must wait until he is well, that he may tell you everything himself." In much amazement Lady Montagu listened to the talk of her little girl, and fairly cried out when she saw the beautiful, pale face of an apparently dead boy. Comprehending in a moment what her little girl only half under- stood, she lifted up the worn-out frame, and carrying it tenderly into her own room, she laid it on a bed. Then the fleet-footed little maiden ran hither and thither, according to her mother's directions, for restoratives, her excite- ment rendered double by the fact that it was her 54 MARGARET secret and hers only. She was standing eagerly watching her mother's face as she bathed the broad, fair brow, and poured the tiny restor- ative drops between the colourless lips. A sigh, a shiver through the limbs. The large, beautiful eyes opened for a moment, and gazed on the kind face bending over him. " Mother," he faintly said and smiled, and seemed to die away again. But Lady Montagu redoubled her efforts, and again consciousness seemed to be restored. The eyes opened and looked enquiringly, first on her, and then fell on the little girl ; a colour flushed his face, he tried to stretch out his hand, but was too weak. But the lips opened, and with a smile of ineffable sweetness he half whispered, "Basil thanks you." And this was the first meeting of Margaret and Basil. It is needless to say that as soon as Basil could tell his tale, Sir Thomas was quite ready to listen to it ; and acted with so much judg- ment and discretion in the matter, that no AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 55 alternative remained to the weak and repre- hensible father, but to yield up his children to their grandfather's care and protection. The conduct of Lady Erlscourt was so well known and notorious, that they were glad to hush the matter up anyhow. And thus it fell out that the two poor ill-used children came to have an honoured and happy home, and received the education their rare and fine qualities deserved. And fortunately this time continued until Basil was nineteen, just two years before Margaret's marriage. At that time their grandfather died, and then came a chequered and trying season, which served to prove that the spirit of the mother had fallen on the children, and that they were meant to bear the burthens of life with the lofty, firm faith of Christians. 56 MARGARET CHAPTER VI. Lotty, or rather Charlotte Beauvilliers, must not be passed cursorily over, as if a thing as small in importance as she was in person. Margaret's little school-husband was born of a peculiar people, and in a peculiar manner, as befits a heroine. The Beauvilliers were a race of strong, sturdy, Britons ; true hearts of oak dwelt in their fine, athletic frames ; and as is often the case, under gigantic proportions simple and kind hearts are to be found, so it was with them. Fearless, guileless, frank and ingenuous, no one ever heard that a Beauvilliers did an AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 57 action of which he was ashamed. Perhaps no great intellect was to be found among them, but warm-hearted, generous deeds followed their steps. And for no virtue were they more conspicuous than for family love. Brothers dwelt side by side, and seemed to love each other more, the closer they lived together. Large families were brought up in love and amity ; none ever heard a Beauvilliers use a harsh word or say an unkind thing. A jovial, hilarious, vigorous race, they bound themselves to the country and soil, eschewing towns and professions, as something of another sphere than theirs. Those who were rich enough, hunted, shot, and fished ; those who were not, farmed, dug, delved and planted; none were absolutely poor, and none were more than commonly rich. They had no expensive wants, but were generally remarkable for their simple tastes. One other peculiarity existed in the race of 58 MARGARET Beauvilliers, the preponderance of males in the family ; a girl was now and then born, but they were so scarce, that they were considered as sorts of natural curiosities, and treated accordingly. About fifty years before our story com- mences, one Beauvilliers, larger, taller, stronger than the rest, with an extra portion of bonhommie and kindness, had been made, through these gifts, a sort of head of the family ; he rejoiced in six sons. When he died, the eldest of these was worthily ap- pointed to fill his place, being the true scion of his fine, old, jovial father ; and he had six sons, all true Beauvillians. The youngest of these, at the age of eight years, was found thrashing a boy twice his size, for ill treating a little girl ; and he was brought into the parlour, flushed with excitement, and covered with blood and glory. " Really," said his mother, " I think it is full time Norman went to school/ 5 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 59 " He is our youngest, Belle," said the father. " Let us keep him with us a little longer, to warm our old hearts ; we might get rusty and cold, wife, with no boys to trouble us." " I have some idea he will not be the youngest long," said Mrs. Beauvilliers, with a rising flush on her cheeks. "What now, Belle! more boys coming?" exclaimed the jovial father. " That's capital, I never heard better news in my life ; what will Ned, Will, and Charlie say ? Seven boys ! why, I shall outdo my father. I always thought there never was a woman in this world like you, Belle, and I think so to this minute. Odds me ! but I must write the news off, and invite them all to the christening." "No, no, my dear husband, have com- passion on me ; remember, c there is many a slip between the cup and the lip/ and don't get a christening dinner ready, till you have a child to christen. Pray think how long 60 MARGARET it is since such an event occurred here, and that I am very nearly as much surprised as you are, and rather put out too." Mrs. Beauvilliers was a clever, talented woman ; she had just the sort of calm, ex- cellent good sense, which it was desirable to graft on the stock of the kind-hearted, though somewhat heedless Beauvillians. Throughout the whole clan she reigned pre-eminent in worth and talents, and received a sort of feudal adoration from the simple-hearted race. Mr. Beauvilliers could not forbear letting out the secret of his expected blessing, to all his brothers, each in strict confidence ; and therefore they were all prepared with rounds of congratulations and hearty good wishes on the happy advent. But all the five uncles, all the six little ex- pectant brothers, all the cousins, nephews, kinsmen of every degree, were thrown into a state of profound amazement. The expected seventh boy proved a little, small girl ! AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 61 As soon as they had recovered from the astounding fact, a regular commotion ensued among the clan of Beauvilliers. No two re- mained long in the same place ; they hunted each other up far and near, merely to shake hands and say, " We have got a girl." The fine old family mansion of Beau-court, where the wonderful event occurred, was besieged with every Beauvilliers that had ever been heard of : only to see the happy father, shake hands, and mutually say, "We have got a girl !" At the christening (the like of which had never been seen before), the girl was handed round, as Newman Noggs hath it, " as if it were something to eat." Perhaps a pervad- ing feeling of disappointment might have gone through the company, on perceiving that the baby girl was not at all unlike what some of the baby boys had been. " But smaller, oh, yes ! decidedly smaller," as some said, with confident satisfaction. Upon the whole, 02 MARGARET the affair went off admirably. When the girl was handed from one to another, it gazed from face to face with wise little eyes, which made everybody declare, that the girl was the most sensible child that had ever been born. When the holy water was dashed in its face rather violently, (as it was then beginning to be thought the proper thing to do,) the girl neither started nor winced, but opened her eyes, and fixed them with a sort of question- ing wonder on the clergyman. Whereupon everybody thought, " The girl is a true Beau- villiers, and does not know what fear is." The amount of presents which it was es- teemed necessary to bestow upon the girl, made her a little heiress on the spot. She might have set up a shop of corals and bells only ; she might have turned silversmith and dealt in silver mugs, tiny [knives and forks, in red morocco, and every other sort of case ; she might have opened an account with her bankers, and put out her money at in- AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 63 terest ; she might have been smothered beneath the weight of gold chains and coral necklaces. As for her nurse, she was looked upon as a peculiar person of the angel species, and came in for her share of presents, until she bent under the accumulation of gowns, shawls, and new guineas. 64 MARGARET CHAPTER VII. It became a sort of custom among the nearer relatives, to make periodical journeys to Beau-court, to see how the girl was getting on ; and as no one ever came empty-handed, her possessions were becoming vast. As she grew older, the sort of notice and homage she received might have proved very injurious ; but she had one Beauvillian pe- culiarity, an adoration of her mother. Her word was law, her look a command ; and being so talented and clever, the little girl reaped all the benefit of such an affection. Mrs. Beauvilliers became aware that her AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 65 daughter was of a very peculiar character; and while she wondered how such a disposition would make its way in the world, she could not' but admire the fearless, independent spirit, the extreme truthfulness of her words and actions j Lotty's word might be relied on as certainly as the sun travels from east to west. Of course it must be allowed that her edu- cation was of a more manly description than befits a young lady. Each brother was anxious to impart some of his knowledge in the bold sports of the Beauvillians j each uncle enquired diligently after her progress in riding, leaping, and jumping; nevertheless they looked with reverence and delight upon all Mrs. Beauvilliers' feminine accomplish- ments ; and when Lotty, escorted by her six brothers, brought down, on her father's birth- day, a silk pocket-handkerchief hemmed by herself, the sensation it caused was wonderful. " Here, papa, is my present ; I hemmed it myself; mamma says it is pretty well done, vol. i. f 66 MARGARET and I have only been three weeks to-morrow doing it." " Yes, papa, this is our Lotty's hemming," said one brother. " Only three weeks to morrow doing it," continued another. "Look well at it, papa," exclaimed a third. " Mamma says it's well done," said the fourth. "No, only pretty well !" said the matter-of- fact Lotty. Papa looked at it with an admiration and delight that quite satisfied the six brothers ; then the handkerchief was put away, but upon the arrival of any fresh Beauvilliers, it was brought out, shown, and admired, and that Beauvilliers went away, and to the next Beauvilliers he met, he told the news. " Our girl has hemmed a handkerchief, in three weeks all but a day, and it is pretty well done." Whereupon that Beauvilliers went to see it, AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 67 until the whole clan had been favoured with a view thereof. Much to the detriment of the beloved little girl, after a short illness, Mrs. Beauvilliers died, just when her daughter was of the age when she would most want her cares and at- tention. As she felt her end drawing near, she called for the little idolized being, now about twelve years old. Generally calm and self-possessed in a remarkable degree, Lotty was taken to her mother, convulsed with grief. " Take me with you, mother ! take me with you !" she rather screamed out than said. But that soft, low voice calmed her in a moment. " God sees fit to separate us, my child; mur- mur not, but rather strive to obey His will. that we may meet again. Now, my Lotty, listen to your mother's last words ; they need be but few to you, thank God : ' Know your duty, and do it.' " " I will try, mamma; T promise." f 2 68 MARGARET " Then that is enough ; and now remember, papa suffers a greater loss than you do. You must, instead of grieving, comfort him. That is your present duty."